2024 - Amazon Forest

Ayaz pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, fingers trembling slightly as he extracts one, the smooth paper crinkling against his skin. He flicks the lighter, a small orange flame dancing to life, illuminating his striking golden blond hair against the deepening shadows of the night. He takes a long drag, inhaling the smoke deeply, letting it fill his lungs and drown out the chaos swirling within him.

Settled on the worn wooden steps of Druig's cabin, he leans against a sturdy pillar, the stillness of the night enveloping him like a comforting embrace. He tilts his head back, gazing at the stars blanketing the dark sky, contemplating the strange clarity that descends upon him during moments like these. His mind swirls with unwanted feelings for Druig, a tempest of confusion and desire that he desperately wants to quell.

“Why did I even come here?” he mutters, the thought laced with regret. He should have stayed in France, surrounded by friends who knew him, who understood his pain.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, a fleeting hope that it might be Camille checking in on him. He pulls it out, only to be met with the cruel reality of no signal bars. “Merde,” he groans, frustration bubbling over. “She’ll freak out.” He tucks the phone away, feeling the weight of unspoken farewells hanging in the air. They deserve to know his truth, to understand the depths of his existence beyond the surface.

Memories of laughter with François and Louise flood his mind, bittersweet reminders of what he’s left behind. Camille, with her steady presence, has been his anchor during his darkest moments, listening patiently to his complaints and cradling his broken heart through sleepless nights. But even her comfort cannot shield him from the storm brewing inside him, the anger at Druig that refuses to dissipate.

As he finishes the last of his cigarettes, he searches the pack in vain, fingers brushing against empty space. “Fuck!” he shouts, frustration spilling over as he tosses the crumpled pack to the ground. His heart feels fragile, still mending from the heartbreak that echoes in the recesses of his mind.

Calming himself, he rises to take a walk, but the flicker of movement catches his eye—figures approaching through the dark. “I’m not playing your games, pretty boy,” he mutters under his breath, intent on retreating. But Druig’s voice cuts through the air, calling out his name with an urgency that sends a jolt through him.

He halts, body tense, and turns to face Druig, who stands only a few feet away, eyes wide with surprise as if he hadn’t expected Ayaz to stop. “I’m sorry. Who are you again? I had this terrible brain injury recently that caused me to lose all my memories of unwanted people in my life. So… would you mind awfully sodding off?”

“I get it. You’re mad,” Druig replies, his tone steady but edged with concern.

“Shit, Sherlock,” Ayaz snaps, the bitterness coating his words. He steps forward, anger radiating from him like heat from a flame.

“I'm sorry,” Druig says quietly, looking into the golden blond's eyes.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?” Ayaz's voice rises in disbelief, the hurt pouring out in waves.

“Yeah, I am,” Druig insists, reaching out a hand to Ayaz, but the frost-hearted Eternal swats it away, refusing to let him in.

Ayaz steps closer to Druig, their faces mere inches apart, fury radiating from him like a palpable force. “Apology not accepted. I think this is where you bloody leave me alone.”

As he turns to walk away, Druig falls in step behind him, calling out his name again and again.

Ayaz groans, annoyance bubbling to the surface. The last thing he wants is to be pursued. If he could, he would dig a hole and hide in it, just to escape this suffocating tension. He halts, taking a deep breath before glancing back at Druig, who lingers a step behind, an eager expression etched across his handsome features. “Stop stalking me. It’s getting creepy. I might think you're desperate for my affection.”

“I just want to talk,” Druig implores, his voice edged with urgency. “Just like the old times.”

Ayaz rolls his eyes, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “It’s too late for that, don’t you think?” His tone drips with sarcasm as he studies Druig’s expectant gaze.

“I’m not asking for a second chance,” Druig insists, desperation threading through his words.

“Good. Because you aren’t getting one anyway.” Ayaz's response is icy, masking the sting of his own hurt. The truth aches within him—Druig never wanted him before, so why would he want him now? The thought twists like a knife. Is Druig here to toy with his emotions, to watch him suffer? Not again. Not this time.

With a bitter edge, Ayaz continues, “Your place sucks. No Wi-Fi. No drugs. No clubs. No cars. No parties. It was good that you left me. Otherwise, I’d be stuck in your boring, messed-up life.” He raises his frost mask, carefully hiding the turmoil churning within, crafting a façade of indifference. But sometimes, even for someone whose heart is made of frost, it’s hard to keep the ice intact.

“Ayaz.” Druig’s voice softens, his expression shifting to one of deep sympathy as he watches the tears Ayaz struggles to hold back.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was?” Ayaz’s voice trembles, filled with raw emotion. “My biggest mistake wasn’t falling for you; it was thinking you had fallen for me too. I’m not going through that again.”

He slams his hands against Druig's chest, anger and pain colliding. “I hate you! I hate you for making me feel vulnerable!”

Druig is taken aback, his heart aching as he absorbs the weight of Ayaz’s anguish. He instinctively catches Ayaz’s hands, moving them away from his chest, both admiring and pained by the sight of the golden-eyed Eternal on the brink of breaking.

“Ayaz,” Druig whispers, his voice laced with desperation. He pulls Ayaz into his embrace, feeling the tension and heartache radiating from him. Ayaz’s sobs are ragged, raw, and unrestrained, pouring out the pent-up emotions he’s carried for far too long. Druig holds him tightly, offering warmth and comfort, his own tears slipping down his cheeks as he whispers, “My beautiful Ayaz, I’ve missed you. I didn’t want to leave you. I was angry at everyone, and I lashed out at you. It was wrong of me, and I regret every moment of it.”

The sincerity in Druig’s voice cuts through Ayaz’s defenses, and he pulls away slightly, searching Druig’s face for the truth hidden in his eyes. “I thought you didn’t want a chance,” he says, his voice shaky, still reeling from the emotional storm.

Druig offers a genuine smile, his dimples deepening, a flash of warmth in the night’s chill. “I lied. I might want a chance. Desperately.”

Ayaz shakes his head, stubbornly resisting the pull of Druig’s charm. “And I’m not giving you one.” The words come out harsher than he intends, masking the flicker of hope that ignites in his chest.

The playful pout on Druig’s lips, those deep-set eyes filled with longing, threatens to dismantle Ayaz’s resolve. “Don’t make that face,” he warns, his voice faltering.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Druig teases innocently, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze, fully aware of the effect he has on Ayaz.

“Fuck this.” The sudden rush of emotions overwhelms Ayaz. He leans forward, capturing Druig’s lips with his own, igniting a spark that he thought had long extinguished. Druig responds immediately, his hands finding Ayaz’s waist, grounding him as their kiss deepens.

In an instant, with Druig’s guidance, they teleport to the cabin, landing in the bedroom amidst a swirl of dark grey smoke. Ayaz kicks off his boots, shedding the weight of the world as he pushes Druig back onto the bed. The kiss never breaks, their lips moving in perfect harmony.

Druig hovers over him, arms resting beside Ayaz’s head, their chemistry undeniable. Ayaz’s hands roam eagerly, slipping beneath Druig’s tunic, tracing the contours of his chest as desire ignites within him.

In a fluid motion, Ayaz tugs at the end of Druig’s tunic, lifting it over his head and casting it aside. Druig returns the favor, peeling away Ayaz’s clothes, revealing skin that glows under the dim light.

As they pause for a breath, Druig’s gaze locks onto Ayaz’s, filled with longing and warmth. “We don’t have to—”

“It’s okay,” Ayaz whispers, brushing his lips against Druig’s as he speaks, a gentle reassurance amidst the tempest of their emotions. “I want to.”

Druig nods, surrendering to the moment, his lips finding Ayaz’s neck, leaving soft bites that elicit gasps and whimpers of pleasure. Ayaz arches into him, each thrust igniting a fire within him that he thought had long since dimmed.

They lose themselves in each other, the world outside forgotten as they reach their climaxes, breaths mingling and hearts racing. Once the storm of pleasure subsides, Ayaz flips their positions, now pinning Druig beneath him with a smirk of triumph. “My turn.”

Druig grins, eyes twinkling with admiration and affection. “Anything you want, beautiful Ayaz. I’m all yours.”