Blake woke in the middle of the night, his mind still buzzing with the weight of everything that had happened. The room was dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon through the blinds. He looked beside him at Aaron, the sight of him so peaceful, so vulnerable, sending a sharp pang through his chest. Aaron was lying on his side, his body naked, the soft rise and fall of his breathing almost enough to soothe Blake's troubled mind.
Blake ran his fingers through Aaron's blonde and messy hair, staring at Aaron's sleeping form. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Aaron's head. He wanted to stay, wanted to bury himself in the warmth of Aaron's embrace until the world outside couldn't reach him. But the truth gnawed at him like a festering wound. There were things he needed to do, things that Aaron couldn't be a part of.
Carefully, Blake slid out of bed, his bare feet silent against the cold floor. He didn't want to wake Aaron, not now. Not like this. He stepped into the bathroom, the cool air hitting his skin as he started the shower. The cold water should have fell painful against his muscles, but the tension in his chest wouldn't fade. He had to do this—no matter how much it hurt.
After he finished showering, Blake dressed quietly, making sure not to disturb Aaron. He went to the closet and grabbed his bag, zipping it open. As he packed, he shoved his gun between shirts, making sure it was well-hidden but accessible. A sharp knife slid between a pair of socks, tucked out of sight but ready for whatever was to come. He moved with practiced ease, each motion sharp and deliberate, as though he were preparing for something inevitable. Something dangerous.
Once his things were packed, Blake grabbed a pen and a small piece of paper from the nightstand. His handwriting was quick and neat, but the words carried all the weight he could muster.
I love you. I'll see you soon.
He placed the note beside Aaron, careful not to wake him. Blake paused for a moment, looking at the boy who had become more to him than anyone ever had. The vulnerability of the moment made his throat tighten, but he shoved the feeling down. It wasn't time for that.
Blake reached behind his own neck to undo one of the necklaces he always wore—the one with the spike that he'd never taken off. He ran his fingers over the cool metal, his thumb brushing against the point. With one last look at Aaron, he placed it gently into Aaron's open hand. It felt final, but necessary. Something to remind Aaron of him when Blake wasn't there.
He leaned down, kissing Aaron softly on the forehead again, his lips lingering for a moment longer than he intended. The kiss tasted like the last time. When he pulled away, he lingered just a little too long, wishing he could stay. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.
Blake grabbed his things, his bag heavy in his hand. With one final glance at Aaron, he made his way to the door. The silence of the room seemed to press in on him, thick and suffocating. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he stepped out of the room, the door closing behind him softly.
He left, the weight of the world on his shoulders, knowing that there was no turning back.
Blake got into his car, his movements sharp and efficient. The engine roared to life, and he pulled out of the parking lot without a second glance at the building behind him. His mind was already miles ahead, lost in the cold grip of what was to come. He plugged his phone into the car's system, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he scrolled through his contacts. The number he needed flashed on the screen, and he didn't hesitate.
The phone rang twice before it was picked up, the voice on the other end sharp and familiar. The words were cold, deliberate, a tone Blake had grown accustomed to over the years.
