If emptiness alone could kill, Bryce was certain he would already be dead.
The agony that had torn through him earlier was gone, yet it had left behind something no less unbearable.
It was as though every trace of that pain had been hollowed out and replaced by a crushing emptiness that spread through him, swallowing every emotion until there was almost nothing left.
Almost.
Because beneath that suffocating void, something still remained.
He could feel it.
Something paced restlessly within him, unable to settle, unable to quiet down. It writhed beneath the emptiness like a caged beast, simmering with fury that had nowhere to go.
Bryce hated it.
More than the pain itself, he hated not understanding what it was.
His chest no longer felt as though it were being ripped apart, yet the strange hollowness only made the restless presence inside him more pronounced.
At the same time, his stomach churned violently, the nausea refusing to subside. He pressed a hand against his abdomen and drew a slow breath, hoping the sensation would ease.
It didn’t.
Instead, another violent wave rolled through him, forcing the color from his face.
"Stop..."
The word slipped from his lips before he even realized he had spoken.
The cab slowed at once, pulling over to the side of the road as though it had intended to stop there all along.
The moment it came to a halt, Bryce shoved the door open and stumbled out. Barely making it to the roadside, he doubled over as his stomach convulsed, and a harsh, violent retch tore through him before he vomited uncontrollably.
"I want to die..." he muttered under his breath once the nausea finally subsided.
Bryce couldn’t deny it. He had always been prone to motion sickness. Long drives left him nauseated, and he had grown to despise traveling because of it.
Whenever he had no choice, he relied on over the counter medication just to make the journey bearable.
But this was different.
The sickness twisted inside him didn’t resemble anything he had experienced before. It didn’t feel like an ordinary upset stomach brought on by a moving vehicle.
It felt foreign, deeper, stranger, as though it belonged to the other half of his existence rather than his human body.
Only after straightening up did he realize the cab had stopped on the very street where he and Dave had lived together.
He stared blankly at the familiar apartment building before remembering that he had given the driver this address without even thinking.
He paid the fare with almost every coin he had left before making his way toward the building he no longer had any right to call home.
Each step up the staircase drained what little strength remained in him. By the time he reached the apartment, his legs felt unbearably heavy.
The door was locked from the inside.
Hope flickered through him without permission.
Maybe Dave had come back.
His trembling fingers fumbled for the keys in his pocket before he hurriedly slid one into the lock.
But it wouldn’t turn.
A heartbeat later, the door opened from the other side.
It wasn’t Dave.
A broad shouldered, middle aged man stood in the doorway, his imposing build and dangerous presence filling the narrow entrance.
The face...
It was familiar.
Bryce was certain he had seen it somewhere before, but no matter how hard he searched his memory, he couldn’t place it.
Perhaps it had been during one of the countless nights Dave dragged him to clubs, where Bryce spent hours watching him drink himself senseless while playing cards and other games with other men.
"Can I help you?" the man asked.
Bryce forced himself to step back.
"No... sorry. I think I got my friend’s apartment wrong."
The words barely left his mouth before he turned away.
His vision blurred.
For the first time since everything had fallen apart, he wanted to cry.
He had nowhere to go.
Reporting Dave to the police crossed his mind, but the thought died almost as quickly as it came. The police would ask for money to help, and he had none.
Besides, Dave had spent years slipping through consequences that should have caught up with him long ago. Somehow, he always walked away untouched.
That left Bryce with only two choices.
He could return to Dave, pretend they had reconciled, and endure the humiliation of crawling back to the man who had cheated on him for so long, even bringing a woman into the bed they had once shared.
Or...
He could return to the parents who had adopted him, pretend he was no longer gay, and apologize for being something he had never chosen to be.
Neither choice was bearable.
His jaw tightened.
No.
He would never apologize for who he was.
That left only one path.
He would go back to Dave, pretend they were together again, remain there only until he found his footing, and leave for good the moment he was able.
Resolving himself, Bryce pulled out his phone and dialed Dave’s number as he walked toward the staircase.
Just as he reached the top step, another ringtone drifted into his ears.
Bryce frowned.
The sound reached him with startling clarity, so close that, for a moment, he was certain it had come through his phone, but it wasn’t.
He looked around.
The hallway was empty.
Only after listening more carefully did he realize the sound was coming from the apartment he had just left.
Even from this far away, every word reached him as distinctly as though the man speaking was standing right beside him.
"Boss, he just came by... and he’s not looking so good."
The low voice was barely above a whisper.
Bryce froze.
His pulse skipped.
Who was the man talking about?
Him?
...Or had his mind finally begun playing tricks on him?
He pushed the thought aside and continued down the stairs. The first time he dialed Dave’s number, the line was busy.
He waited a moment before trying again.
This time, the call connected almost immediately.
"I..." His voice came out hoarse, drained of what little strength he had left. "Will you come and get me... or just send me the address?"
"I’ll come get you." Dave answered without the slightest hesitation, the urgency in his voice impossible to miss.
Bryce could hear hurried footsteps on the other end, followed by the faint rustle of what sounded like keys being snatched from a table.
"Wait right there."
Bryce’s footsteps came to an abrupt halt.
"Wait right there?" he repeated, his brows drawing together. "How do you know where I am?"
Silence.
Not the silence of someone searching for an answer.
The silence of someone who had been caught off guard.
When Dave finally spoke again, the confidence in his voice had noticeably faded.
"I’m... just guessing you’re at our old apartment." He gave an awkward laugh that sounded painfully forced. "I mean... I can’t really think of anywhere else you’d go."
Bryce said nothing.
His grip around the phone tightened almost imperceptibly.
The explanation sounded reasonable.
Too reasonable.
But something about the explanation felt fabricated, as though Dave had come up with it only after realizing he’d said too much.
The uneasy feeling that had been creeping through Bryce since leaving the apartment tightened around his chest once more.
The whispered conversation.
The stranger inside his former apartment.
Now this.
He found himself wondering whether there was something about Dave that he had never truly known.