2024 - Amazon Forest

Druig stirs awake the next morning, the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the cabin’s rustic windows. He blinks, heart racing, when he spots Ayaz, already fully dressed, meticulously styling his golden blond hair. The low whistle of a tune hangs in the air, a melody Druig can't help but smile at.

“Is that t-shirt mine?” Druig asks, amusement creeping into his voice as he notices the snug pale black T-shirt hugging Ayaz’s torso—an old piece from his own wardrobe.

Ayaz glances at him with a smirk, tossing his hair back. “Looks better on me.”

“You're right, my love,” Druig replies, his tone light yet filled with an undercurrent of something deeper. He settles against the headboard, watching Ayaz with a mixture of affection and uncertainty. “Are we okay now?”

“Let me think,” Ayaz retorts, tapping his chin dramatically as if weighing the options. His expression twists into a wicked smirk. “I don’t want you and never will. And guess what? This is me getting even with you. Surprise!”

Druig’s smile falters, replaced by a frown as the hurt is etched across his face. He’s momentarily lost for words, the silence stretching between them like an unbridgeable chasm.

“You feel that?” Ayaz’s voice turns colder, his dry chuckle echoing with bitterness. “That’s what I felt that day. It was a lot worse for me, to be honest. Like someone crushed my heart into bloody mist.” His eyes flicker with restrained emotion, the golden hue darkening as he struggles to contain the tempest within. “Oh, and by the way, you should know that I won’t let you crush my heart again, pretty boy.”

Without waiting for a response, Ayaz teleports outside, leaving Druig staring after him, the sting of his words lingering like a ghost. It feels like a betrayal wrapped in sweet revenge, a thrill coursing through Ayaz as he relishes Druig’s visible pain. Each moment he watches Druig’s hope shatter is a perverse satisfaction, a balm for his own heartache.

“Imbécile,” Ayaz mutters under his breath, shaking his head, though guilt tugs at him, a flicker of regret gnawing at the edges of his resolve.

He yearns to run back, to wrap himself in Druig’s arms and whisper apologies, to cover his face in kisses and mend the frayed threads of their bond. But doubt clouds his mind—did Druig ever look back? Did he ever care as Ayaz suffered alone? He swallows hard, forcing the guilt down. Druig deserves this.

Taking a deep breath, Ayaz allows the crisp morning air to fill his lungs, invigorating him. A wide smile spreads across his face—this day is his, and he intends to embrace every moment of it.

As he strolls through the compound, Ayaz spots Hestia and Ikaris tangled in each other’s arms, their passion unabashed and infectious.

“Try not to swallow each other!” Ayaz calls out with a teasing grin, and Hestia flashes him the middle finger in return without breaking her kiss. Laughter bubbles within him, shaking his head as he strides into the kitchen, where he finds Kingo seated alone at the expansive table.

“You’re glowing, Jack Frost,” Kingo remarks, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Not that ‘I’m out of control’ glowing, but the ‘I had sex’ kind. My boy is all grown up.”

“Such a pain in the arse,” Ayaz mutters, shaking his head, then turning to the woman preparing breakfast. “Can I have a cup of coffee, please?”

Her gaze flickers with a golden hue as she speaks in a monotone, “You can’t be mad at me forever, beautiful Ayaz.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ayaz exhales slowly. “Guess I’ll just stick with water.”

He looks up to find the woman now glancing at him in confusion, the fog of Druig’s influence lifted. “Can I help you, sir?”

“No, I’m good,” Ayaz replies, forcing a small smile as he returns to Kingo, slumping into a chair. “I hate this place.”

“Druig needs to think, and Sersi wants us to wait, so... we wait,” Kingo replies, and Ayaz grimaces at the mention of his former lover.

“Where’s Karun?” he asks, noticing the absence of Kingo's ever-loyal valet.

“He’s a late bird. He’ll be up soon, though,” Kingo shrugs, taking a sip of his orange juice. Then, with a teasing grin, he leans in. “So spill the details. Were you top or bottom?”

Ayaz raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips as he fills his plate. “That’s high-level secretive information you’re asking for, mon pote.”

“Trust me, you owe me this. You two were so loud last night, I think the whole world heard you. It was disgusting,” Kingo complains, shaking his head.

Ayaz scoffs, diving into his food. “Do I care? No.”

“So, you brought clothes with you?” Kingo gestures at the T-shirt Ayaz wears.

“Isn’t mine. Druig and I are the same size in everything. So why not borrow?” Ayaz shrugs, feeling a sense of defiance simmer beneath his surface.

“God.” Kingo scrunches his nose in mock disgust, but his grin returns. “So, you guys are together again?”

“Nope,” Ayaz answers, pushing his empty plate aside and gulping down his glass of water. Just then, he notices Karun standing in the doorway, a new camera in hand, recording everything.

“I thought you broke it,” Ayaz remarks.

“Always bring backups,” Karun replies, grinning.

In a flash, Ayaz teleports to Karun, grabbing the camera and freezing it mid-air. He hands it back with a fierce glare. “Have fun.”

“You have a very angry family, sir,” Karun observes, now clutching the frozen camera with a bemused frown. “Yeah, it’s a big issue.”

Ayaz opens his mouth to make a witty retort when a loud crash reverberates outside, followed by a piercing shriek. “What the bloody hell is that?” he exclaims, heart pounding with curiosity and a hint of dread.

The day is shaping up to be anything but boring.