Chapter Text
rome doesn't announce himself.
he just shows up - standing at the edge of a life he once abandoned, like he has the right to exist there again.
mhok sees him by accident.
it's late afternoon, the kind of hour where the sun softens everything and makes mistakes look forgivable. mhok is halfway through locking up, keys cold in his hand, when the air shifts. he feels it before he understands it - an old, instinctive awareness curling low in his chest.
he looks up.
rome is across the street.
not moving. not waving. just standing there like he's afraid that if he takes one more step, the ground will remember what he did and swallow him whole.
time doesn't stop. it fractures.
rome looks older. sharper around the eyes. his shoulders are tense, like he's learned how to brace for impact and never unlearn it. he's dressed wrong for this place - too neat, too careful - like he's still trying to be someone acceptable.
mhok hates that it still hurts.
their eyes meet.
rome's face does something - breaks, maybe. relief flashes first, then guilt, then something dangerously close to hope, it makes mhok's jaw lock.
of course rome looks relieved. of course he does. he's back now. that's supposed to mean something, right?
mhok turns the key.
the lock clicks loudly in the silence, a deliberate sound. a warning.
rome crosses the street anyway.
"mhok," he says, breathless, like he ran - even though he didn't.
mhok doesn't look at him again. he slips the keys into his bag with hands that don't shake, because he learned a long time ago how to keep himself together when rome is nearby.
"you shouldn't be here," mhok says flatly.
rome flinches. "i- can we talk?"
that old familiar plea. the one that always came after damage had already been done.
"there's nothing to talk about."
rome steps closer, too close. mhok can smell him now - soap, something clean and expensive, something that doesn't belong to the boy who once smelled like rain, cigarettes and desperation.
" i didn't know how else to come back," rome says quietly.
mhok laughs. it comes out sharp, ugly. "that's funny, you didn't seem to have trouble leaving."
silence crashes between them.
rome swallows. "i was scared."
mhok finally looks at him then - really looks - and whatever expression he was wearing wipes clean.
"congratulations," mhok says. "so was i."
people pass them. cars. voices. the world doesn't stop for unfinished love stories, and mhok is painfully aware of how exposed they are - two men standing too close, speaking too softly, history vibrating in every inch of space between them.
rome glances around instinctively, lowering his voice. that reflex - the need to be careful - sets something hot and bitter off in mhok's chest.
"dont," mhok snaps.
rome blinks. "don't what?"
"don't look around like that. don't whisper. don't come back and act like nothing's changed."
rome's mouth opens, then closes again. he looks - lost. like he expected anger, maybe tears, maybe forgiveness. not this cold, measured fury.
"i never stopped-" rome starts.
"don't," mhok says again, louder now. "you don't get to start sentences like that."
rome's hands curl into fists at his sides. "i didn't stop loving you."
the words hit anyway. of course they do.
mhok steps back, because staying still would mean leaning forward, and that would be a mistake he promised himself he'd never make again.
"love isn't something you abandon," mhok says. "it's something you choose. every day. you didn't."
"i know," rome says, voice breaking. "that's why i'm here."
mhok shakes his head. "you're here because it's convenient now. because whatever scared you before doesn't anymore."
"that's not true."
"isn't it?" mhok snaps. "your parents still pretend i dont exist. we're still not out. nothing changed except you decided you could live with yourself again."
rome reaches for him without thinking.
mhok slaps his hand away.
the contact - brief, electric - sends a shock through both of them. rome freezes, eyes dark, breathing uneven.
"don't touch me," mhok says. his voice is steady. his heart is not.
"i'm sorry," rome whispers.
mhok exhales slowly. "you don't get to apologize your way back into my life."
"i'm not asking for that."
"yes, you are."
rome looks like he wants to argue - but he doesn't. instead, he says, "i just want a chance to prove i won't run again."
mhok laughs again, softer this time. tired. "you don't get a tria; period, rome. this isn't something you can test."
"i'll take whatever you give me."
"that's the problem," mhok says. "i already gave you everything once."
they stand there, inches apart, saying everything they shouldn't. the air between them hums, think with want and resentment and all the things that never went away.
rome gaze drops - just for a second - to mhok's mouth.
mhok sees it.
something ugly and reckless rises in him. he steps closer, deliberately invading rome's space, lowering his voice to something dangerous.
"if you look at me like that again," mhok says, "you'd better be ready to mean it."
rome's breath stutters. "i do."
"no," mhok says. "you think you do."
mhok steps away, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"this was a mistake," he adds. "don't come back here."
rome watches him go, helpless, as mhok walks away without looking back - heart pounding, skin burning, every step a betrayal of how badly he still wants to turn around.
behind him, rome stays exactly where he is.
because even now - especially now - he knows this isn't over.
not even close.