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The call came at 3:17 in the morning.
Day was awake before the phone even started ringing.
For a few seconds he simply stared at the illuminated screen on his nightstand, his stomach already sinking before he even read the name.
Diesel.
Months ago, seeing that name would have made his heart race.
Now it filled him with dread. Because people only called at three in the morning when something was wrong. And when it came to Diesel, something was always wrong lately.
Day sat up immediately.
The room was dark except for the pale glow of the city outside his apartment window. Rain tapped softly against the glass. Somewhere in the distance thunder rolled across the sky.
The phone continued vibrating. Day answered on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
For a second all he could hear was noise.
Music, laughter,screaming over a bass line. Then a familiar laugh.
The sound hit him like a punch.
“Hey, Day.”
Drunk. The kind that made words blur together and that usually ended badly.
Day closed his eyes feeling a headache coming.
“Where are you?”
Diesel laughed again. Too loudly. The laugh of someone trying very hard not to think.
“Missed you too.”
“Diesel.”
“Mm?”
“Where are you?”
Another laugh. Then silence.
The music became louder for a moment.
Eventually Diesel sighed.
“You always sound worried.”
Because I am worried.
The words stayed trapped behind Day’s teeth.
Instead he rubbed his eyes.
“Tell me where you are.”
“No.”
The answer was immediate, childish and stubborn. Pure Diesel.
Day felt irritation rise in his chest.It was becoming a familiar emotion right after fear and worry.
Because loving Diesel had become an endless cycle of panic.
One day he would answer texts.
The next he would disappear for forty-eight hours.
Then he would show up again with a smile and an apology and Day would forgive him because he never seemed capable of doing anything else.
“I’m hanging up.”
“You wouldn’t.”
The confidence in Diesel’s voice made something twist painfully inside Day’s chest.
Because he was right.
“You called me.”
“I know.”
“At three in the morning.”
“Mhm”
“So tell me where you are.”
A long silence stretched.
When Diesel finally spoke again, his voice sounded softer, almost tired.
“I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Day stopped breathing just for a second. Then anger arrived. Because that wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair that Diesel could disappear for weeks and then say things like that.
It wasn’t fair that he could sound so lonely.
But after everything, Day still cared.
“Diesel—”
The call disconnected.
Day stared at the screen for a second and immediately called back.
No answer. Again. Nothing.
Straight to voicemail.
His stomach dropped.
“Fuck.”
Twenty-five minutes later, Day was standing outside one of Bangkok’s most exclusive nightclubs.
The rain had become heavier, neon lights reflected off wet pavement. Luxury cars lined the street, music shook the walls.
Day hated every second of it.
Because he knew exactly why Diesel loved places like this.
In clubs nobody asked questions even when they noticed that you were falling apart.
As long as you smiled and ordered another drink, everyone assumed you were having the time of your life.
It was the perfect place to hide.
Day walked past the security guards and stepped inside.
The music was deafening. Bodies pressed together beneath flashing lights.
The air smelled like alcohol and expensive perfume.
His eyes scanned the crowd immediately searching for him. He couldn’t find him. Not near the bar or on the dance floor.
His heartbeat accelerated.
Then he saw him on the second floor balcony.
Alone.
Day froze.
Because for a second Diesel looked exactly like the person he used to be.
Beautiful.Confident.Untouchable.
The kind of person everyone wanted to know.
Then Diesel turned his head and the illusion shattered.
Dark circles beneath his eyes, a healing bruise near his cheekbone his shoulders slumped forward.
An exhaustion so deep it seemed carved into his bones.
He looked twenty-five and fifty at the same time.
Day started moving immediately.
By the time he reached the balcony, Diesel was staring out over the city. Bangkok glittered beneath the storm.
Diesel didn’t turn around.
“I knew you’d come.”
Day wanted to scream. Instead he asked quietly,
“What happened?”
Diesel smiled, his expression looking wrong somehow. Like he had forgotten how.
“Nothing happened.”
Day laughed, a sharp, humorless sound.
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
“No.”
“Then stop lying.”
The smile disappeared instantly. Good.
Day was tired of pretending.
Tired of watching someone he loved slowly destroy himself while acting like everything was fine.
The rain landed on Diesel’s shoulders.
Neither moved.
For a moment they simply stood there listening to the storm.
Eventually Day spoke again.
“You disappeared.”
No answer.
“You ignored every text.”.
Each sentence landed harder than the last.
“You promised me you were okay.”
Diesel finally looked at him, his gaze full of emotions: guilt, pain and something like regret flashed on his face but they were gone before Day could fully identify it.
“I was busy.”
The lie made Day furious. Because it was pathetic.
Because Diesel couldn’t even tell the truth anymore.
“Busy doing what?”
Silence.
“Drinking? Partying? Trying to see how quickly you can ruin your life?”
Diesel flinched.
The reaction was so small that most people wouldn’t have noticed.
Day did.
Because he noticed everything when it came to Diesel.
And suddenly that made him even angrier.
Because if those words hurt, it meant they were true.
For months Day had watched it happen.
The drinking.
The disappearing acts.
The reckless behavior.
The increasingly empty smiles.
It felt like watching someone drown while insisting they knew how to swim.
“You know what’s funny?” Diesel asked suddenly.
His voice sounded distant, like he was somewhere else entirely.
Day crossed his arms.
“No.”
“I knew you’d be angry.”
“Congratulations.”
“But you still came.”
The statement wasn’t arrogant or mocking. It sounded sad. And somehow that hurt worse.
No matter how angry Day became. No matter how exhausted or frustrated. He would always come.
If Diesel called, Day would answer.
Every single time.
And maybe that was the problem.
“I was worried.”
The confession escaped before he could stop it.
Diesel looked away immediately.
Day hated how impossible it seemed for Diesel to accept being cared for.
Thunder echoed across the sky.
And suddenly Diesel looked exhausted.The kind that came from carrying something heavy for far too long.
“You should stop.”
Day frowned.
“Stop what?”
“Worrying about me.”
The words were quiet.
Day felt something cold settle in his stomach.
Because there was a finality to them.
“Don’t.”
Diesel laughed but it cracked halfway through.
“I’m serious.”
“Diesel.”
“No, listen.”
For the first time all night he looked directly at Day.
And Day’s heart stopped.
Because there were tears in his eyes. Waiting.
“I mean it.”
Everything disappeared. Only Diesel remained, looking more lost than Day had ever seen him.
And suddenly, for the first time that night, Day wasn’t angry anymore. He was scared that tonight was finally the night everything would break.
The drive back to Day’s apartment was silent.
Not the comfortable kind of silence they used to share, the one that came from knowing each other so well that words became unnecessary. This silence felt sharp, fragile, stretched so tightly that one wrong sentence might tear it apart.
Rain hammered against the windshield.
The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white beyond the glass.
Day kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel.
Diesel sat in the passenger seat staring out the window.
Neither looked at the other. They did not trust themselves.
The alcohol was beginning to wear off.
Day could tell.
Diesel’s posture had changed, his movements had become slower, more deliberate.
The careless confidence from the club was disappearing, exposing something raw beneath it.
Day hated that he knew the difference.
Hated that after everything, he could still read Diesel so easily.
“You should’ve stayed home.”
The words came unexpectedly.
Day didn’t look away from the road.
“What?”
Diesel let his head rest against the window.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
A bitter laugh escaped Day before he could stop it.
Harsh.
“You called me.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t act surprised that I showed up.”
Diesel’s jaw tightened like the reminder hurt.
Maybe it should’ve. Because Day was tired.
Tired of carrying the responsibility for both of them.
Tired of pretending he wasn’t angry.
Tired of watching someone he loved fall apart while refusing every hand offered to him.
For six months he had swallowed his frustration because he was afraid that if he pushed too hard, Diesel would disappear completely.
Tonight something felt different. He wasn't sure he cared anymore.
Not because he stopped loving him.
Because loving him was becoming unbearable.
The realization sat heavily in his chest.
Neither spoke again until they reached the apartment.
The moment they stepped inside, Diesel headed straight for the balcony. Anywhere except where Day could actually look at him.
Day locked the front door.
Removed his soaked jacket and followed.
The rain had weakened into a soft drizzle.
The air smelled clean and fresh. Almost peaceful.
A complete contradiction to the tension hanging between them.
Diesel leaned against the railing.
Day stood a few feet away, watching him.
“How many days have you been drinking?”
Diesel laughed.There was no humor in it.
Like he already knew where this conversation was going.
“Enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
Day closed his eyes.
“Try.”
The silence stretched.
Long enough to become uncomfortable.
“Most nights.”
The answer hit harder than Day expected.
His stomach dropped.
“Why?”
Diesel’s shoulders tensed immediately.
“There it is.”
“There what is?”
“The question.”
His laugh sounded hollow.
“Everyone asks eventually.”
Day frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Diesel turned toward him, looking at him for the first time since leaving the club.
And suddenly Day wished he hadn’t. Because he looked heartbroken.
The kind of broken that settles deep inside a person and refuses to leave.
“The same thing it always means.”
His voice dropped dangerously quiet.
“They want a reason.”
“I do.”
“No.”
Diesel shook his head.
“You want an explanation.”
His eyes glistened.
“Unfortunately I don’t have one.”
Day stared at him, disbelief slowly turning into anger.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
The response was immediate,sharp and defensive.
And suddenly they were both standing straighter, bracing for impact.
“You don’t care?”
Day repeated.
Diesel immediately looked away, which was a mistake because now Day knew he was lying.
Day was done with excuses.
“Do you think I’m blind?”
The question cut through the night.
Diesel froze.
Day took a step forward. Then another.
Months of fear and frustration boiling over.
“You look exhausted, you are drinking every night, you disappear for days and you barely sleep. You are the one that looks like death warmed over after the breakup.”
By now they were standing only a few feet apart.
Day’s heart was pounding fast.
“And somehow I’m supposed to believe you don’t care?”
For a second neither moved.
Diesel eyes filled with tears again.
“You really don’t get it.”
Day’s anger faltered.
“What?”
The smile on Diesel’s face shattered completely like something breaking beyond repair.
“I care too much.”
The ugly truth landed between them.
Day stopped breathing.
Diesel looked away immediately.
As if saying the words physically hurt because they had been trapped inside him for months.
“I care all the time.”
His voice trembled.
“I care when I wake up.”
A shaky breath.
“I care when I go to sleep and every time my phone rings.”
His eyes closed, he couldn’t bear looking at Day while saying it.
“I care every time I think about you.”
The apartment suddenly felt too small.
Too quiet.
Day swallowed hard, like he was fighting tears that were inevitable.
“Then why did you leave?”
The question finally escaped, months overdue but unavoidable.
The second the words left his mouth, Diesel went completely still like Day had reached inside his chest and grabbed something painful.
The breakup. The night everything fell apart.
Day watched the color drain from Diesel’s face, his hands curling into fists and panic flashing across his expression.
Whatever answer Diesel had been hiding— was worse than he thought.
“Don’t.”
The word came out broken,almost pleading.
Day’s heart clenched.
“No.”
For the first time all night, his voice was gentle.
“I deserve an answer.”
“You deserve better than an answer.”
The tears finally spilled over.
And for the first time since Day met him, Diesel didn’t wipe them away.
He just stood there crying, looking completely exhausted.
Like he no longer had the energy to pretend he was okay.
The walls were finally starting to crack.
The storm outside had ended but the one between them was only beginning.
For a long moment neither of them moved.
The city glittered beyond the balcony, thousands of lights stretching into the darkness, but neither of them noticed. The world had narrowed down to this small space, this apartment, this conversation they should have had six months ago.
Rainwater still clung to Diesel’s hair.
Tears still clung to his eyelashes.
Day had never seen him look so tired.
The words lingered between them.
Diesel genuinely believed he deserved someone better. Someone easier and far less damaged.
And Day was So fucking tired of hearing it.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
Diesel closed his eyes immediately as if the sentence physically hurt.
“You make it sound simple.”
The tears were falling steadily now.
Diesel didn’t seem to notice.
Or maybe he simply didn’t care anymore.
“You look at me and you act like I’m someone worth loving.”
Day stared at him in disbelief.
Because after everything,after six months of no contact,after all this pain— they were still here.
Still trapped in the exact same argument.
“No.”
His voice trembled.
“I’m not doing this again.”
The words hit harder this time.
Because there was no anger behind them.
Only the certainty of someone who had spent years hating himself.
And suddenly Day snapped violently.
“Shut up.”
Diesel froze.
Day never raised his voice. Never. Not like this.
Not at him.
“Day—”
“No.”
The word came out sharp like shattered glass.
“No, you listen to me for once.”
Diesel stared, shock flickering across his face.
Day’s hands were shaking. He wasn’t even sure whether he was angry or heartbroken anymore.
“You think this is noble?”
His voice cracked.
“You think pushing people away makes you selfless?”
Another step forward.
“You think deciding what I deserve somehow protects me? Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?”
The tears started before he could stop them, hot and frustrated.
He didn’t care. Not anymore.
For six months he had held everything together.
Tonight he couldn’t.
Tonight he was breaking too.
“You vanished.”
Diesel looked away immediately.
“You vanished and I spent weeks wondering if you were alive.”
The guilt on Diesel’s face was immediate.
“You ignored calls.”
Another shaky breath.
“You ignored messages.”
His voice was getting louder now,Emotion pushing through every word.
“I saw pictures of you drunk in clubs at four in the morning and I had no idea if you’d even made it home.”
Diesel looked devastated.
Day couldn’t stop. Because the dam had finally broken.
“You left and somehow I was still the one worrying about you.”
His voice shattered.
“I was still the one waiting.”
Another tear slid down his face.
“I was still the one answering every time you called.”
Complete silence.
Diesel looked like he’d been punched.
But Day wasn’t finished.Not even close.
Because there was one thing he had never said that had haunted him every single day. Until now.
“You know what the worst part was?”
Diesel swallowed.
“What?”
Day laughed through tears.
“The worst part was that I would’ve stayed if you asked.”
Diesel stopped breathing.
Day could actually see it.
The exact moment the words landed and how deep they cut.
“I would’ve stayed through everything.”
His voice dropped,somehow even more devastating.
“The drinking.”
“The bad days.”
“The panic attacks.”
His lips trembled.
“I would’ve stayed.”
The tears running down Diesel’s face doubled instantly. Uncontrollable. Relentless.
Because suddenly he understood.
Day hadn’t left, he never even planned to.
The fear that destroyed everything had never been real. And that realization was crushing him.
“You never gave me a choice.”
Day’s voice broke completely.
“You just decided for me.”
A sob escaped Diesel.
The sound made Day’s chest ache. But he continued anyway.Because they needed this.
Both of them did.
“You decided I deserved better, that you weren’t enough and that our relationship was doomed from the start.”
His eyes burned and his throat hurt.
“And you never even asked me.”
The silence afterward felt endless.
The city lights blurred through tears.
The apartment seemed too quiet.Too small. Too full of things left unsaid.
Diesel laughed. And suddenly he was crying.The kind that stole your breath and made your chest hurt.
The kind that came from years of pain finally reaching the surface.
“You don’t understand.”
The words barely made sense.
Day’s heart clenched.
“Then explain it.”
“I can’t.”
“Try.”
Diesel dragged both hands through his hair.
Pacing now. Unable to stand still.
Unable to keep it together.
“Because you keep talking like this.”
His voice rose unexpectedly.Not angry.
Desperate.
“You keep saying things like that.”
“What things?”
“That you would’ve stayed.”
A sob interrupted him.
He looked furious at himself for it.
“You make it sound so easy.”
Day stared.
“You loved me.”
The words exploded out of him.
“You loved me so much and I couldn’t understand why.”
Day froze.
Diesel was shaking now like he was barely holding himself together.
“I kept waiting for you to realize it.”
“Realize what?”
“That I wasn’t worth it!”
The shout echoed through the apartment.
Day’s heart broke.Not because he was surprised.
Because he finally understood how deep it went.
How much pain Diesel had been carrying alone.
Day had never wanted to protect someone more.
Even if that someone was breaking his heart.
Diesel had always been the kind of person who suffered quietly. He drank until he blacked out, he disappeared. He pretended.
But he never let anyone see what was underneath.
Tonight there was nowhere left to hide.
The walls were gone.
Every ugly thought.
Every insecurity.
Every wound.
Exposed.
And somehow that was even more heartbreaking than the breakup itself.
Because Day was finally seeing the thing that had destroyed them.
Diesel’s inability to believe he deserved to be loved at all.
“You really believed that.”
The words came out as a whisper.
Red eyes lifted toward him.
“You didn’t? I spent every day waiting for you to wake up and realize I’d tricked you somehow.”
Day felt physically sick.
“I kept waiting for you to see me the way I saw myself.”
His voice cracked violently.
“I thought eventually you’d get tired.”
The tears kept falling.
“I thought eventually you’d leave.”
A shaky breath.
“So I left first.”
The confession settled over the room like a storm cloud.
And suddenly Day understood everything.
The breakup.
Diesel hadn’t left because he stopped loving him.
He left because he loved him so much that losing him terrified him.
And rather than risk abandonment, he had abandoned himself first.
The tragedy of it was almost unbearable.
Day laughed suddenly. A short, broken laugh.
Diesel looked confused.
The expression alone almost made Day cry again.
“Do you know what the stupidest part is?”
Diesel frowned.
“What?”
Day wiped angrily at his eyes.
“The stupidest part is that you’re standing here talking about how unlovable you are.”
His voice shook.
“And somehow you still haven’t realized that you’re the reason I couldn’t move on.”
Something shattered in Diesel’s expression.
Day stepped close until barely a foot separated them.
“You think I spent six months miserable because I had nothing better to do?”
A tear slid down his cheek.
“I tried.”
His laugh sounded exhausted.
“God, I tried.”
Every date, every distraction. Every attempt to move forward. A complete fail.
“I deleted your number.”
Diesel froze.
“I blocked you.”
Another breath.
“I even made myself stop going to places we used to visit.Nothing worked.”
Diesel stared at him speechless.
Because for the first time since they met, Day wasn’t protecting him from the truth.
He wasn’t softening it or making it easier.
He was simply telling him.
And the truth was devastating.
“You ruined me.”
The raw words slipped out and Day immediately regretted it but he didn’t take them back. Because they were true.
Diesel looked like he’d been shot.
Day continued anyway.
“You ruined me because I loved you.”
His voice cracked.
“And then you left.”
The tears came harder now.
Months of grief finally escaping.
“I kept wondering what I did wrong.”
Diesel’s face crumpled instantly.
“No.”
“I kept replaying every conversation.”
“Day—”
“I kept asking myself why I wasn’t enough.”
The sentence hit Diesel like a physical blow.
He staggered backward.
For six months they had been carrying the exact same pain. The exact same fear.
Looking at opposite sides of the same wound.
Diesel thought he wasn’t enough.
Day thought he wasn’t enough.
Both suffering.
Both loving.
The realization seemed to destroy whatever composure Diesel still had.
Suddenly he was crying harder than before.
Like years of pain were finally ripping themselves out of him.
“No.”
The word came out broken. Desperate.
“No, no, no.”
He dragged both hands through his hair.
“I never thought that.”
His voice rose, panicked.
“I never thought you weren’t enough.”
Another sob escaped him.
Day’s own tears fell faster.
Because this wasn’t fixing anything.
It wasn’t making the pain disappear. It was simply exposing it.
Showing them exactly how badly they’d hurt each other.
“I loved you.”
Diesel’s voice shattered completely.
“I loved you so much I couldn’t breathe.”
The confession echoed through the apartment.
And suddenly he was screaming.
Not at Day. At himself.At the universe.
At every terrible thing he’d convinced himself was true.
“I loved you and I hated myself for needing you.”
Tears streamed down his face.
His chest heaved. His entire body shook.
“You became my favorite part of every day.”
Another sob.
“And that terrified me.”
Day started crying harder.
“I couldn’t imagine losing you.”
His voice cracked.
“So I left before it happened.”
Day crossed the remaining distance. Slowly.Giving him time to pull away, to run.
Diesel didn’t move.
For the first time in months he stayed.
Day reached up.
His hands cupped Diesel’s face gently.
The touch immediately made Diesel cry again.
Day almost did too.
“Look at me.”
This time Diesel obeyed.
Red eyes.
Wet cheeks.
Broken expression.
Beautiful.
Because even now, Day loved him.
“I am going to tell you something.”
Diesel swallowed.
“Okay.”
Day’s voice trembled.
“I don’t need you to be perfect.”
Fresh tears filled Diesel’s eyes.
“I don’t need you to have everything figured out, I don’t need you to stop struggling overnight.”
His own tears spilled again.
“I just need you to stop fighting me.”
Diesel stared at him.
And for the first time all night, something changed.
Hope.
“You still want me?”
The question came out so quietly that it almost broke Day’s heart all over again.
Because after everything—
after all this love—
after all this pain—
Diesel still wasn’t sure.
Day laughed through tears.
Then leaned forward.
And kissed him,months of longing crashed into the moment.
Diesel made a broken sound against his mouth.
His hands immediately grabbed Day’s shirt, holding on desperately as if he were afraid this wasn’t real.
When they finally pulled apart, both were crying again.
Foreheads touching, breath uneven, hearts racing.
Neither willing to let go.
“I still love you.”
Day whispered it against his skin.
Diesel closed his eyes. Then a small laugh escaped him.
The first genuine laugh Day had heard in months.
“I love you too.”
Outside, the storm had finally ended.
For the first time in a very long time, neither of them was running.
And for the first time in a very long time, neither of them was alone.