Chapter 236

Andre slowly slid down the wardrobe, his legs feeling like jelly. He stared at the closed bathroom door, his mind a chaotic whirl of Cross's words. "Balls deep inside me." The phrase echoed, hot and insistent, in his ears. He touched his lips, remembering the ghost of Cross's kissed finger, and then the actual, searing kiss from last night.

He took a shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. This wasn't how he envisioned the morning. He had planned to be logical, to set boundaries, to calmly explain the impossibility of... this. But Cross, in his infuriating, seductive way, had turned everything on its head.

The man had cried. Cross, the "wild, cold, and unfeeling" mafia prince, had cried because he thought Andre was leaving. The admission had been delivered with a petulant shrug and a buried face, but the raw vulnerability of it had struck Andre with an unexpected force. It was a crack in Cross's carefully constructed façade, a glimpse into the emotional landscape Andre hadn't known existed.

And then the shift. From tearful despair to mischievous pursuit. Cross's questions, direct and probing, had systematically dismantled Andre's carefully prepared defences. 

The flinching, the "disgust"—Cross had seen it all and twisted it into something entirely different. "Quite the opposite," Andre had murmured, a truth that felt dangerous to acknowledge even to himself.

He closed his eyes, remembering the feel of Cross's hand on his chest, then trailing down to his abs. The sheer audacity, the blatant flirtation, it was all so undeniably Cross. And the way his voice had dropped, that soft, sinful whisper about his tongue... Andre felt a flush spread across his face.

He had tried to rationalise the kiss, to categorise it as a professional act of comfort, a "storm effect" intervention. But Cross, with his sharp, perceptive gaze, had seen right through it. "I knew you lied about that storm effect." The words were a challenge, an invitation to acknowledge the undeniable pull between them. 

The idea of Cross wanting him, openly and unapologetically, was both terrifying and exhilarating. Andre had spent his life meticulously building walls, adhering to a strict code of conduct. Danger, chaos, intensity – these were the things he avoided at all costs in his personal life. Cross was a walking embodiment of all three.

And yet, when Cross had hugged his waist, when he'd rested his head on Andre's chest, a warmth had spread through him, a feeling of belonging that he hadn't experienced in a very long time.

'I want you, Andre.' The directness of the statement was disarming. 

Cross wasn't interested in Andre's reasons, his logic, his fears. He was interested in Andre. His promise to "bring his best game," and to relentlessly pursue, was a threat and a promise rolled into one.

Andre pushed himself up, still feeling a little shaky. He walked to the window, staring out at the now clear sky. 

The storm had passed, but another, far more potent one, seemed to have just begun inside the room.
He knew, with a chilling certainty, that his defences were crumbling. 

Cross was right; he was playing a game, a very dangerous one, and he was losing. The cold dose of reality he had anticipated for the morning had arrived, but it wasn't the kind he expected. It was a reality where boundaries were blurred, expectations shattered, and the impossible suddenly seemed terrifyingly plausible. 

He would have to talk to Cross. But not about boundaries or expectations. He would have to talk to him about what 'this' was. And the thought, instead of filling him with dread, sent a surprising jolt of anticipation through him.

He was still Andre, logical, rational, in control. But a small, dangerous part of him, the part that had kissed Cross back with undeniable hunger, was also ready for Cross's "best game." And a question, long suppressed, finally surfaced: what did he want?

The sound of the shower starting in the bathroom brought him back to the present. He picked up the white shirt Cross had taken from him, folding it meticulously. He needed to be firm. He needed to be logical. He needed to be rational.

But as he looked at the door, a very faint smile touched his lips. "Balls deep inside me." The words echoed again, and this time, the chill was replaced by a strange, undeniable heat. Tomorrow could wait. For now, he just had to figure out how to breathe. And maybe, just maybe, how to play this dangerous game.
***
Ida asked Cody to stay in his room while he quickly handled something at the club. Willingly, Cody had stayed. He was ready to wait for Ida, as long as they got to talk in the end.

Cody's night passed quietly, wrapped in Ida's arms. He'd expected Ida to make a move on him, but nothing happened — just the steady comfort of being held. There was still a distance in Ida, a space Cody could feel but didn't care about. He just wanted his boyfriend back. Period.

Ida had someone deliver breakfast to Cody, but the food was still untouched, and it was getting close to midday. Cody wasn't going to touch the food until Ida returned.

Thinking back to what he did last night, he felt horrible for his actions, but he didn't know what else to do; if he let Ida walk out that door last night, it would have been for sure over between them. Ida seemed very solid in his decision, and Cody feared that part of him.

He suddenly heard the door being unlocked and sat up in bed, fixing his hair as his heart pounded anxiously.

Ida was back. It was time for a real talk.

Ida walked into the room and the first thing he did was to look at the bed and check if Cody was still there. He sighed in relief and walked over to him.

As he neared Cody, he paused when he noticed that the food he had sent quite earlier hadn't been touched. He frowned, "You didn't eat?" He asked as he sat close to Cody.

Cody still hadn't looked up at Ida, afraid of seeing the distance in his eyes.

"I was waiting for you," Cody said, rubbing his fingers together. 

Ida sighed, "Hey," He placed his hand on Cody's shoulder, waiting for him to look up.

Cody slowly raised his face and looked at Ida, blinking slowly. 

Ida gave him a small smile, "I ordered the food for you, Cody, just you. You didn't have to wait for me. This is almost midday and you've had nothing to eat, that's not a very healthy habit, Cody." He told Cody, concern lacing his voice.

"I'm sorry," Cody muttered.

Ida shook his head, "You don't have to apologise, Cody. You just need to take care of yourself, for yourself. Okay?" He asked quietly.

Cody didn't like the sound of that, 'take care of myself for myself?' He pondered.

Does it mean that Ida was really planning to break up with him?

"You said you wanted to talk this morning, right? What's it about?" Cody suddenly asked, a little frown appearing on his face. 

Ida took a deep breath and nodded, "Yeah... about..." he pointed his hand between them, "us." 

Cody nodded, too, "I know what you're trying to do, Ida. And if it's because of what I did last night, I want to say I'm really sorry, I should never have acted the way I did, it was stupid, unreasonable and unfair, I know. But, please, don't abandon me, don't leave me, I'm incomplete without you, Ida... I'm hopeless without you," He said, holding Ida's hand gently.

Ida placed his hand behind Cody's head and placed his forehead on his, staring into his eyes, "This isn't healthy anymore, Cody. I never want to be the reason why you lose yourself. Instead of fighting for me, fight for you, Cody... I want you to heal, physically and mentally," he paused and wiped Cody's tears from his eyes.

"So? This is it?" Cody asked quietly.

Ida didn't answer immediately, he took his time to stare at Cody's face before he replied, "I will always care about you, Cody; it's impossible not to. Trust me, it's hard for me, too. Don't see me as the heartless ex." He chuckled, a sad chuckle.

Cody removed his face from Ida's, "I said I'm sorry for last night. Do you really have to do this, Ida? I'm sorry, okay?" His voice cracked, eyes reloading a whole drum of water all over again.

Ida balled his fists, looking away from Cody's tears, "I'll be leaving tomorrow -"

"Fine," Cody cut him off and stood from the bed.

"Hold on," Ida caught his wrist and stood as well.

He stood in front of Cody and held his face in his hands, "I need you to calm down, Cody. This isn't fun for me, either." He said.

Cody wasn't looking into Ida's eyes, his eyes roamed the ceiling, his lower lip between his teeth. 

"I'll be leaving for a month, Cody. The boss asked me to take care of something back home. Can I ask you for a favour?" Ida asked.

Cody finally looked at him, "Yeah." He said, heart racing. 

This was the most uncomfortable topic he'd held with Ida, it ripped his insides apart. 

Ida smiled and hugged Cody, "I can feel your heart pounding. Relax, Cody, it's not the end of the world. I don't define you and you don't define me; we should be able to live freely by ourselves, independent of a partner or a friend. Do you agree?" He asked, his hand slowly rubbing Cody's back to soothe him.

Cody shook his head, "What is living freely if you have no one to share your moments with? Life is already too boring and serious; you were the only colour to my world, Ida. And now, you're stripping me of the only thing I love... you." He answered, his eyes showing his desperate plea.

Ida sighed, "Sometimes, Cody, love turns toxic, suicidal, unhealthy... that's what our love is at the moment. And, when it turns out this way, we take a step back, allow the bad blood to flush away." He smiled.

"Take this one month as a break, take it to be a semi-breakup between us -"

"So we're breaking up after all," Cody chuckled.

Ida held Cody's hand, "I'm doing this for you, Cody. I never want you to lose yourself in the process of finding me. You wouldn't understand how special you are to me -"

"Then don't fucking leave me," Cody snatched his hand and stepped back, frowning.

"If I'm that fucking special then don't fucking leave me!" Cody raked his head, breathing hard.

Ida gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to listen and abide by Cody's command, "I'm not leaving you, per-se. I'm going to take care of something for the boss. But, if after my return, you don't feel anything for me anymore, I'd step back, Cody. After all, my goal is for you to move on happily. If this strange feeling between us doesn't disappear after a month, we have to let go of whatever we have, Cody. It should be a healthy separation, no malice, no regrets, no hate," Ida carefully explained. 

Cody took a deep breath, "As you wish. Have a safe flight, Ida." He said and walked past Ida without looking at him.

Ida turned and watched Cody walk toward the door, his heart shattering from the sudden cold treatment but he wasn't complaining. This is what he wanted: Cody taking back his control.

"Take care of yourself, Cody," Ida said to Cody as Cody stepped out of his room... his life.

His hand went up to his chest as his door slammed; he felt like it was his heart that was being slammed between the door. 

He was hurting like a bitch. 

Looking around the empty room, it felt cold, ghostly. 

Cody was also the colour to his grey life, but this decision was the best for both of them. Setting a healthy boundary is the best he could do for Cody. 

He used to hate the phrase, 'If you love them, let them go.' But, maturing is realising that that phrase was a chef's kiss, perfect for applying to everyday struggles. 

Holding onto someone you love even when that love starts to hurt or even threatens one's life is no longer considered love but selfishness; it is best to set them free because if we really loved them, we wouldn't want to hurt them.

"I'm letting you go, Cody, because I love you," he whispered, closing his eyes to relish his pain