Page 22 of Mutual Desire (The Awakening #1)

Breaking Point

Dimitri stared at his friend as Damien vomited onto the living room floor.

It was a pitiful sight—Damien, hunched over the sofa, his head hanging low, eyes half-closed. Dimitri had just come home from work when he stumbled upon the mess. The room was dimly lit by the soft, flickering glow of the television.

Dimitri’s heart clenched as he crouched down beside Damien, placing a hand on his shoulder. The scent of stale alcohol hung heavily in the air. Damien’s apartment had essentially become Dimitri’s living room for the past two days—a refuge where Damien drowned himself in booze, trying to numb the pain that clawed at him.

Damien groaned, glancing hazily at the damage he'd caused. “I’ll clean it,” he mumbled, his voice slurred and weak.

Dimitri shook his head gently, his hand moving from Damien’s shoulder to cup his cheek.

“D, don’t worry about it. Just sit still.”

Damien struggled to push himself upright. His body wobbled with the effort, but Dimitri was quick to stop him. “Nope. Stay put,” Dimitri ordered softly. “How many drinks did you have this time?”

Damien let out a bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a whimper. “I… stopped counting.” He avoided Dimitri’s gaze, the weight of shame pressing heavily on him.

“Of course you did,” Dimitri sighed. “Don’t move. I’ll clean this up.”

Before Damien could protest, Dimitri was already off, retrieving a bucket of water and towels. Damien gave one last, tired glance at the pool of vomit before collapsing back onto the sofa. Within minutes, his breathing deepened, and he drifted off into a restless sleep.

By the time Dimitri returned, Damien was snoring softly. Dimitri set the bucket down, cleaned the mess with practiced ease, and quietly disposed of it. He returned with a glass of water and some pills, setting them on the coffee table next to Damien.

Standing over his friend, Dimitri sighed. He knew Damien needed to talk—but not tonight. Not like this. For now, all he could do was pull a blanket over Damien’s limp body, switch off the television, and leave him in peace.

The next morning, Damien woke with a splitting headache.

His tongue felt like sandpaper, and the stale remnants of last night clung to his skin. He stumbled into the kitchen, grateful to find breakfast waiting on the counter—eggs, bacon and sausages, now cold but still edible.

He checked his phone while wolfing down the food. Two missed calls from Nick. None from Craig. None from Nabokov.

He forced himself not to think about Nabokov—he couldn’t afford to let his thoughts wander down that path again. Finishing his meal, Damien popped two painkillers and dragged himself into the shower, scrubbing away two days of alcohol and regret.

Once dressed, he decided it was time to face Craig. He couldn’t keep putting this off. He needed answers—and he needed to know if Craig still wanted them to have a future together.

Craig’s apartment was silent when Damien arrived.He let himself in, heart thudding in his chest. Night had fallen, and it was late , and the place felt eerily still. Craig must have been at work. Damien wasn’t sure when he’d be back, but he needed time to prepare for the conversation ahead.

Craig’s scent lingered faintly in the air, wrapping around Damien like a bittersweet reminder of the life they shared—a life now teetering on the edge. He wandered into the bedroom, inhaling the familiar smell of Craig’s pillow. It brought a painful lump to his throat, but he fought it back, determined to keep his emotions in check.

Settling on the bed, Damien turned on the television for background noise. He hadn’t even set the remote down when his phone vibrated against the nightstand. His stomach flipped.

He didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Nabokov.

The unregistered number glared at him from the screen. Damien’s heart raced. He let the call ring out, hand hovering over the power button, ready to switch off his phone.

Then came the text.

You don’t have to answer me but at least let me know if you’re doing okay .

Damien clenched his jaw, torn between ignoring it and giving in. This was exactly what Nabokov wanted—another way to sink his claws into Damien’s life. It was infuriating how easily the man invaded his thoughts. With a frustrated growl, Damien turned off his phone and stalked into the living room, where he found exactly what he was looking for—a bottle of whiskey.

The harsh morning light woke Damien several hours later.

He blinked groggily, sitting up on the bed just in time to see Craig standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Damien?” Craig’s voice was calm but edged with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

A lazy smile stretched across Damien’s lips, though it faded quickly as his headache roared back to life. “What does it look like?” he mumbled.

Craig took a cautious step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Are you drunk?”

“Maybe,” Damien slurred with a careless shrug.

Craig moved toward him, his concern barely masked. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

“No!” Damien snapped, stumbling to his feet. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The two men locked eyes, tension crackling between them. Suddenly, Damien grabbed Craig’s collar, yanking him closer.

“Are you cheating on me?” Damien demanded, his voice cracking with both anger and desperation.

Craig arched an eyebrow. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No!” Damien barked, tightening his grip on Craig’s shirt. “Are you?”

Craig’s expression turned cold. “You mean like you cheated on me?”

The accusation hit Damien like a slap. His mouth opened, ready to protest, but the words died on his tongue. He had no defense.

“I didn’t cheat,” Damien whispered, his voice small. “I swear, Craig... I didn’t.”

Craig let out a bitter laugh. “I never thought alcohol could make you spout bullshit. Getting off by another guy—what would you call that?”

Damien’s gaze dropped, shame burning through him. “I... I didn’t sleep with him,” he muttered, clinging to the flimsiest shred of truth. “I didn’t go that far.”

Craig’s lips curled into a sneer. “Because you love me, right?”

“Yes!” Damien cried, desperation breaking through his drunken haze. “I love you, Craig! I’m sorry—I know I fucked up, but please... please don’t throw us away.”

Craig stared at him, expression unreadable.

“I’ll do anything,” Damien whispered, clinging to Craig’s waist. “Just... don’t leave me.”

Craig tried to gently pry him off, but Damien only held on tighter, tears welling in his eyes.

“I beg you... I need you,” Damien whispered. His lips grazed Craig’s neck, soft kisses trailing down his skin.

“Damien, stop.” Craig’s voice was firm, but not unkind.

Damien pulled back, looking into Craig’s eyes, his heart breaking. “Please. Don’t say it’s over... not over this.”

Craig’s gaze softened—just a flicker, but enough to give Damien hope. “I can't just pretend nothing happened and pick up where we left off.”

Damien gently cupped Craig's face, his thumb brushing over his skin, before pressing his lips to Craig’s.“That’s not what I want from you,” Damien whispered, his voice low but sincere. “I’ll give you all the time you need, but I need to know if you still believe in us. If you’re willing to give us another chance.”

Damien forced a kiss on Craig’s lips, but Craig didn’t return it. Instead, he pulled back, his eyes locking onto Damien's with an intensity that made Damien’s stomach churn.

“Before I even think about that, I need to know something.”

Damien’s stomach dropped. He knew where this was heading. “Go ahead,” Damien muttered, trying to keep the unease from his voice.

“I want to know what pushed you to do it,” Craig said, his tone quiet but demanding.

Damien’s chest tightened. He had hoped Craig would ask him anything else but this.“I… it was just a stupid moment, and I—”

“Damien!” Craig’s voice cut through his stammering, fiery eyes cutting through Damien like a blade. “I need to know!”

Damien froze. He had never seen Craig like this —angry, hurt, and so raw. He didn’t want to speak the words out loud, but he had no choice.

“He…” Damien trailed off, his throat tight. He couldn’t even form the words.

“Damien,” Craig urged, his grip on the edge of the conversation tightening.

Damien sighed, feeling the weight of the lie he was about to tell. “He insisted a lot,” Damien continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s... powerful, intimidating. And he kept pushing. I felt wanted, and I... I admit, I was physically attracted to him.”

Damien quickly dropped his gaze, unable to look Craig in the eye. “But that’s all it was. Just physical attraction. Nothing more.”

Craig remained silent, his expression unreadable. Damien lifted his gaze to meet Craig’s, desperate for some sign of relief.

“Craig, please. Please tell me you’ll forgive me. I’ll do anything, just... forgive me.”

Craig didn’t respond. He simply stared at Damien, his face hard, his silence unbearable.

Damien moved closer, his hands trembling as he took hold of Craig’s waist. His eyes begged for forgiveness.“If I have to let someone else jerk you off—someone you choose, whatever—just for you to forgive me, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever it takes, Craig.”

The look on Craig’s face was one of pure disgust.

“What?” Damien asked, his voice trembling. “I’m serious. Whatever you want, Craig. Just... forgive me. Don’t leave me”

Craig exhaled sharply, his frustration palpable. “We’ll start with this break. It’ll be good for both of us.”

Damien’s heart sank. He hated the idea of a “break.” He understood the need for space, but it felt like a final judgment.

“Okay,” Damien agreed reluctantly, the word tasting bitter. “But I want you to punish me first.”

Craig’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Fuck me like I’m your worst enemy,” Damien said, his voice raw with desperation.

Craig’s laugh was cold and mocking. “Do you really think, after everything, I could get hard for you?”

The words hit Damien like ice water. He couldn’t hide the shock and hurt that crept onto his face, but Craig didn’t seem to care.

“Let’s go,” Craig muttered, reaching out for Damien.

Damien shot him a resentful look, pulling away. He walked over to the bedside table and grabbed the bottle of whiskey, his hands shaking.

“I’m fine, okay? I don’t need you to be my damn Uber,” he muttered, his voice low with frustration. “Call me when you decide this break is over,” Damien added, his tone betraying the hurt.

Damien ignored Craig, walking past him without a word.

Craig called out to him. “Damien, I hope you're not planning to drive in the state you're in.”

Damien stopped in his tracks and turned, a sarcastic smile pulling at his lips. “Maybe, Craigson.” His words were a challenge.

“Damien!” Craig’s voice cracked with desperation.

Damien didn’t stop. He continued walking, determined not to show weakness.

“Damien,” Craig repeated, stepping toward him. Before Damien could leave the room, Craig grabbed his arm.

“Let go of me!” Damien screamed, trying to wrench his arm free. Craig held him tightly, his grip unyielding, and Damien fought him, tears streaming down his face as his anger and guilt tangled together. His legs gave out, and he collapsed against Craig, his sobs shaking his body.Craig didn’t say anything. He just held him, his arms wrapping around him like a lifeline.

After a moment, Damien’s tears slowed, and Craig whispered, “I’m going to run you a bath. You stink.”

Damien sniffed, lifting his head from Craig’s shoulder. “You hate me. You’re going to drown me in the bath, aren’t you?”

Craig sighed, but his touch remained soft. “Then take a shower, if that’s what you want.”

“No,” Damien replied stubbornly. “I want the bath. With a lot of water.”

Craig’s expression softened. He shook his head, but there was no real anger in it. “Fine, Damien. A bath it is.”

He led Damien into the bathroom, the tension thick between them but unspoken.

After the bath—with lots of water, Damien felt the weight of the world slowly drifting away, replaced by the numbing comfort of the water. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, but when Craig woke him, dried him off, and dressed him, he barely had the energy to protest.

Back in bed, wrapped in cool sheets, Damien, exhausted and empty,watched Craig undress.“I love you,” Damien whispered, the words feeling too small for everything he was feeling.

Craig turned, meeting his gaze. They held each other’s eyes for a beat—a quiet, fragile truce hanging in the air.

Craig didn’t say it back, but he didn’t have to.

For now, Damien could live with that.