Playing both sides was a razor’s edge, but essential. Alexander had to remain untainted. He had to continue convincing Hawthorne of his allegiance.
And somewhere in that treacherous space between performances lay the truth he was clawing for: the simple right to be Sebastian, whole and acknowledged, without the constant weight of secrets and shame.
It was worth the risk. Worth every damned bit of it.
18
Treason and Tech Support
Ethan looked like he’d lost a fight with a very expensive duvet. He was slouched on Sebastian’s townhouse sofa in sweats, hair a mess, holding a mug of coffee like it was both life support and a weapon.
“You know,” Sebastian said, sauntering in from the kitchen with a second mug, “most people who get dumped by their girlfriend and betrayed by their co-founder don’t end up looking like a tragic cologne ad.”
Ethan didn’t move. “I am actively mourning.”
“You’re actively dramatic.”
“I was betrayed.”
“You were in a startup. Betrayal is part of the pitch deck.”
Ethan finally turned his head. “Do you ever, like, care about anything?”
Sebastian handed him the second mug and dropped into the adjacent armchair. “Of course I care. I care about espresso. Tailoring. Whether my hair does the thing I like in photos.” He paused, watching Ethan’s dejected posture. “And occasionally, I care about my friends who spend all night digging through encrypted files to help me investigate my morally bankrupt fake father.”
Ethan’s eyes flickered up. “That’s… surprisingly honest.”
“Don’t get used to it.” Sebastian pulled out his phone, scrolling through something. “Which is why we’re getting outof here.”
“I don’t want to go out.”
“You’ve been wearing the same hoodie for three days.”
“It’s cashmere.”
“It’s sad.” Sebastian stood up and pulled the coffee mug from Ethan’s hands. “Go shower. We’re leaving in an hour.”
Ethan groaned. “Where are we even going?”
“Somewhere your social media followers will be exceedingly jealous to see you. Something that says ‘I’m thriving,’ not ‘I’m writing regrettable texts while eating imported ice cream straight from the container.’”
“That was one time.”
“And it will remain one time because we’re going out.” Sebastian was already typing on his phone. “There’s that new exhibition downtown. Very exclusive preview. Then drinks at Luca’s new place—the one with the ridiculous ceiling installation everyone’s been posting about.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes. “How’d you even get invites to the exhibition? I heard it was impossible.”
Sebastian smiled thinly. “The curator owes me a favor because I helped him avoid an international incident involving a priceless sculpture and an overzealous cleaning staff.”
“You’re making that up.”
“Only partially.” Sebastian tossed a navy shirt at Ethan’s head. “Wear this. It makes your eyes look less like you’ve been crying.”
“I haven’t been—”
“Save it for someone who hasn’t seen your search history.” Sebastian’s voice softened almost imperceptibly. “Look, I need you functional. Not just for the Hawthorne thing, but because watching you mope is physically painful.”
Ethan sighed, finally standing. “Fine. But I’m not posting anything. I’m avoiding the socials so I don’t have to be subjected to all the drama.”