James sat on the couch, the glow of his phone the only light in the room. He'd been aimlessly scrolling through social media for hours, hoping to escape the gnawing ache in his chest. But then, like a punch to the gut, he saw it.
A photo.
It was Ethan, as radiant as ever, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that hugged his frame like a second skin. His arm was slung around the waist of a stunning actress, her smile dazzling as she leaned into him. They looked too close. Too perfect. The caption beneath it read: Hollywood's golden boy charms at the charity gala with his rumored new co-star.
James's stomach churned, a bitter cocktail of jealousy and insecurity twisting through him. His mind raced, trying to rationalize it. It's just for the cameras. It's part of his job. But the rational thoughts couldn't drown out the whisper of doubt in the back of his mind: What if he's better off without me? What if… I'm not enough?
The distance between them was already unbearable, but now it felt like a chasm—one too wide to cross.
His hand shook as he dialed Ethan's number.
"James," Ethan answered, his voice warm and familiar, and for a moment, James almost forgot the photo. "Hey, babe. What's up?"
James hesitated, his voice betraying his turmoil. "I… saw the pictures from the gala."
There was a pause on the line. "James, it's just work. You know that."
"Do I?" James asked, his voice sharper than he intended.
Ethan sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. "Babe, you're the only one I care about. You know that, don't you?"
But James didn't answer. Instead, he whispered, "I need to see you. I can't do this anymore."The next morning, James was on a flight to Los Angeles. His heart was a war zone of conflicting emotions—longing, anger, hope, fear. When he finally landed, Ethan was there, waiting for him, leaning casually against his car.
For a brief moment, all of James's doubts melted away. Ethan's smile was real, his eyes soft with relief as they met his.
The moment James stepped into Ethan's arms, the world around them ceased to matter. "I missed you," Ethan murmured, his voice low and full of emotion.
"I missed you too," James replied, though the ache in his chest hadn't completely disappeared. They didn't make it past the living room of Ethan's penthouse.
The door had barely clicked shut before Ethan had James pinned against it, his lips devouring him with a desperation that bordered on hunger. James clung to him, his hands fisting in Ethan's jacket as their bodies pressed together.
"You have no idea how much I've needed this," Ethan growled against James's neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin.
"Ethan," James gasped, his breath hitching as Ethan's hands roamed under his shirt, tugging it off and tossing it aside.
They stumbled toward the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothes in their wake. By the time they reached the bed, Ethan's hands were on James's waist, gripping him tightly as their mouths collided again, hot and bruising.
"Tell me you're mine," Ethan demanded, his voice rough with need.
"I'm yours," James whispered, his voice trembling. "Always."
The way Ethan made love to him that night was different—urgent, almost frantic, as though trying to erase the miles that had been between them. But there was an edge to it, something darker, something rawer. Ethan's fingers dug into James's hips as their bodies moved together, his mouth leaving marks on James's neck that would bloom into bruises by morning.
James gasped Ethan's name, his nails raking down Ethan's back as pleasure mixed with pain in a way that left him trembling. Ethan's lips found his again, swallowing his cries as they reached their peak together, their bodies collapsing into each other, slick with sweat and exhaustion.
For a moment, they lay in silence, their breathing the only sound in the room. Ethan pressed a soft kiss to James's forehead, his arms wrapping around him. "I never want to be apart from you again," he murmured.
James didn't respond. He couldn't. The doubts that had haunted him on the plane ride here were still there, lurking in the back of his mind. But the peace didn't last.
The next morning, Ethan's phone buzzed incessantly with calls and texts from his manager. James watched as Ethan's expression shifted from frustration to resignation.
"I have to go," Ethan said, his tone apologetic but firm.
"Already?" James asked, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.
Ethan leaned down, kissing him softly. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Promise."
James forced a smile, but as Ethan walked out the door, a familiar emptiness settled over him.
Hours turned into days, and though Ethan called every night, James couldn't shake the feeling of being an afterthought. The photo from the gala still lingered in his mind, a constant reminder of the distance between their worlds.
And then it happened again. Another photo. Another event. Another woman standing too close to Ethan, her hand resting on his chest.
James stared at the picture, his heart pounding. He wanted to trust Ethan. He wanted to believe in their love. But the whispers of doubt were growing louder, drowning out everything else.
By the time Ethan called that night, James was on edge.
"James, what's wrong?" Ethan asked, immediately sensing the tension in his voice.
"Is it always going to be like this?" James blurted out.
"What do you mean?"
"Me sitting here, waiting for you, while you're out there… with them."
Ethan sighed, his frustration seeping through the phone. "James, I'm not with anyone else. You know that."
"Do I?" James snapped, his voice breaking. "Because it doesn't feel like it."
There was silence on the line, heavy and suffocating.
"I love you," Ethan said finally, his voice quiet but firm. "But I can't keep explaining myself every time the press decides to make something up."
James closed his eyes, his chest tightening. "I don't know if I can do this, Ethan."
"You can," Ethan said, his voice tinged with desperation. "We can."
But as James hung up the phone that night, he wasn't sure he believed it anymore.