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Hakka couldn't, not this, not like this. He didn't think this would transpire into anything. It wouldn't have; it shouldn't have. But it did. It absolutely did, and Hakka was screwed, worse than karma getting him threefold. He had Zanny, his boyfriend, so this was unnecessary. But he was too deep. He was drowning in a flood of his own making.
Vain, he had met Vain, Zanny's friend. It was just a few meetings. Going to Vain's pub a few times with Zanny, seeing Vain at Zanny's club. It was only a few times, but it soon spiralled. He noticed. Hakka noticed things about Vain, like how he saw things about Zanny when they started dating. It was happening. Again. Fuck, not again. The signs of him falling. If it happened, he'd go deeper into the rabbit hole he wasn't meant to fall into.
Hakka noticed how his boyfriend and his friend were close, how they shared similar humour, how both smiled at him effortlessly, making it feel as if a knife was being plunged into his heart, plunge, plunge, deeper, more profound, it made his heart hurt, it hurt so much, he couldn't go down this rabbit hole, but, he didn't know that he would end up falling it.
Days, weeks, and months had passed since the multiple meetings, and during one, Vain and Hakka had gotten each other's numbers. Zanny was aware. Yet, Hakka couldn't; he didn't know how or when this became his new regular, sneaking around with Vain, while still being the perfect boyfriend for Zander. But, he noticed, he could see it. But Hakka hid; he hid it to the best he could. He hid it.
"On your phone again," Zanny said. It was Tuesday, their coffee date. A weekly thing. Happened before Zanny opened the doors of his club,
"Sorry, baby..." Hakka said with a chuckle, and he placed his phone face down
"You're on your phone a lot these days," his boyfriend said, stirring his black coffee,
"No, I'm not,"
"You are,"
"No, no..." Hakka was trying to convince himself, but that feeling, the knife, was in his heart.
Plunge, plunge, plunge. Hakka was trying to convince himself that he wasn't always on his phone; he wasn't, he wasn't, he wasn't, he wasn't.
Hakka's phone notification went off. It was a ding.
On the screen of Hakka's phone, when flipped over to see the screen, it would have shown a notification from Vain, Zanny's friend.
'Please, I need you...tonight?'
"I know you still think of him," Vain said, buttoning up his shirt. Hakka, sitting in bed, in Vain's bed, shifted, the blankets falling off his body to show the aftermath of their guilty, sinful, unfaithful passion.
"Vain, I promise, I wasn't..."
"Sweetie..." Vain's voice filled the room. He walked to Hakka, "It's Zanny, he'll always be your only." Hakka wanted to argue, but he counted; he knew he couldn't.
"I...I want to be yours, Sweetie, but...fuck, I can't compete, not with Zanny."
"You shouldn't..."
"But I want to...I...fuck..." Vain sighed, hand running over his face. Hakka knew. Both knew. This, this fucking arrangement. Sneaking behind Zanny. What were they thinking?
"Vain," Hakka beckoned his boyfriend's friend to come over.
Plunge, plunge, plunge. That bloody knife. In Hakka's heart.
"Sweetie..." Vain went to Hakka, and they kissed. Their own poison, the sin they bore on their hearts.
Plunge, plunge, plunge. The knife was also slowly entering Vain's heart.
"Who are you looking at?" Zanny asked, when he and Hakka hugged in bed,
"You, of course, my baby," Hakka said, head on Zanny's chest.
"Don't lie."
"Baby, I'm... I'm not..." Hakka said, but it was a lie. Both knew.
"Then, when you look at me..." Zanny's eyes didn't meet Hakka's. "Who do you see?"
When Hakka looked at Zanny, he saw Vain. But when he looked at Vain, he saw Zanny. He saw both. It was torture.
Plunge, plunge, plunge.
It was always a back-and-forth. Hakka could hear them both.
"Choose me..." was Vain's voice,
"Choose me..." was Zanny's voice
"No, no..." Hakka said to himself
"I cannot choose one," Hakka heard his heart say.
When the three were together, at Vain's pub, Zanny's club, or just in one another's homes. It was a suffocating atmosphere for Hakka; it was suffocating for him. He was hyperaware of everything, every noise, every action.
Despite Hakka being between them, Vain and Zanny usually act with each other. But he noticed. Vain's eyes flickered to Zanny and looked at him longer than needed, considering how Zanny's arm would brush against Vain's in passing. Hakka saw it all. He didn't want to notice it all. Each time he did, the knife. That fucking knife pierced his heart again.
Plunge, plunge, plunge. It always went deeper.
Hakka knew he was unfaithful to both. His heart was in too many places. He couldn't; he couldn't keep his heart to love just one. He loved both. His love was greedy. His passion was lustful. Hakka had everything with Zanny. But he wanted more. I needed more. So, his heart chose Vain. His heart. It was greedy. Hakka was a two-timer.
Hakka wanted both, had both. But, he knew, he couldn't keep both.
Sometimes, Hakka wondered if, by chance, Vain and Zanny wanted each other. However, God forbid that it happens.
They both sat in Zanny's club, in the back corner. Zanny, being the owner and bar host, attended to patrons.
"We..." Vain's voice stopped. Hakka knew what Vain wanted to say. They had to stop. Stop seeing each other. But they couldn't.
"I don't want to..."
"Sweetie, I know...but..." Vain sighed,
"We're hurting him,"
"I know..."
"We have to stop..."
"But I can't..." Hakka looked to Vain, his eyes pleading.
"I can't either..."
The two looked at Zanny, still working the bar.
Plunge, plunge, plunge.
It was eating Hakka alive; he was on his phone, texting Vain. He turned off his phone when Zanny entered.
"You're elsewhere," Zanny bluntly said as he passed behind Hakka, kissing the back of his neck.
"I'm here..."
"Bullshit," Zanny said with a dry laugh. "You're more obsessed with your phone nowadays..."
Plunge the knife. Zanny was right, plunge.
"I love you," Zanny told Hakka,
"I love you too," Hakka told Zanny
"I..." Hakka couldn't form words. He sighed
"I'll say it for the both of us," Vain said, "I love you."
"Me too," was all Hakka could manage.
Hakka felt it, the fucking knife. Plunge, plunge, plunge. Hakka knew. His own greediness and unfaithfulness. He made his own living hell.
Yet, his heart wanted both.