Shattered Bonds

EPISODE 33

Dylan had been watching Tristan closely, noticing how distracted he had become. The weight of everything was clearly taking a toll on him, and it was only getting worse.

“Jersey, you need to talk to Drake,” Dylan said, his voice laced with urgency. “Tristan’s not doing well at all.”

Jersey sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I will, man. I’ll try.”

Meanwhile, Dylan also approached Nathan. “Tristan isn’t okay, Nathan. He’s falling apart.”

Nathan scoffed, crossing his arms. “Oh, now you care? Did you forget I was told to mind my f*****g business?” But despite his cold response, something flickered in his eyes—worry, buried beneath the bitterness.

---

That day, Tristan couldn’t make it through school. He left halfway, unable to focus, his mind drowning in turmoil. When he arrived home, he found Drake sitting on the couch, his attention glued to his phone. Tristan stood there for a moment, waiting—hoping Drake would look up, acknowledge him, say something. But he didn’t.

Dropping his bag on the floor, Tristan took a deep breath before speaking. “Do you still love me?”

That question finally made Drake look up, startled. His fingers paused over his phone screen, and for a moment, the only sound was the faint noise coming from the video he had been watching. Then, in a quiet but firm voice, he replied, “Of course I still do.”

Tristan exhaled shakily and walked toward him. Without another word, he leaned down and kissed him. Drake hesitated at first, but Tristan deepened the kiss, desperation seeping into every touch. He needed to feel something—anything—other than this growing emptiness.

But just as he was getting lost in it, Drake suddenly pulled away.

Tristan stared at him, breath heavy. “What’s wrong, babe? Didn’t you just say you still love me?”

“I do, but…” Drake shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

Tristan let out a hollow laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You’ve changed,” he murmured. His gaze searched Drake’s face as if trying to find the person he once knew. “You used to always want me. Every chance we got, we’d be all over each other. Your hands were always on me. And I… I wanted you just as much. But now… Every time I try to get close, you have another excuse.”

Drake looked away, jaw tightening.

Tristan stepped closer, voice breaking. “If you don’t love me anymore, just tell me. Stop hurting me like this.” His eyes darkened with suspicion. “Is it Calvin? Did you fall in love with him?”

Drake’s head snapped up, eyes blazing. “You’re crazy, Tristan! I can’t do this with you.” He turned, ready to walk away, but Tristan grabbed his wrist, yanking him back and crashing their lips together.

Drake gasped, struggling against him, but Tristan was stronger. Fueled by pain and desperation, he lifted Drake into his arms, carrying him toward their bedroom. He didn’t break the kiss, his movements feverish, frantic. Once inside, he threw Drake onto the bed, climbing over him, pinning him down.

Drake twisted beneath him, pushing against his chest. “Tristan, stop!”

But Tristan’s grip only tightened. His lips trailed down Drake’s neck, his breath hot and uneven. “Haven’t you always wanted this? Haven’t you always begged me to make love to you?” His voice was hoarse, filled with something raw and aching. “Tonight, I’ll finally give you what you wanted.”

Drake struggled harder, his voice rising. “Tristan, stop! Remember—” He gasped as Tristan’s weight pressed him down. “Remember you promised! You swore you wouldn’t touch me until I was twenty-one!”

That stopped Tristan cold.

The air between them turned heavy, suffocating. Tristan pulled back slightly, staring down at Drake. His chest heaved, his fingers trembling where they gripped Drake’s wrists. Then, something shifted in his eyes—hurt, devastation, realization.

For a long moment, he just looked at him.

Then, silently, Tristan moved away. He sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense, fists clenched in his lap. His breath came out shakily, and for the first time in a long while, a single tear slid down his cheek.

Drake lay there, still, staring at him. He wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

Tristan got up, wiping at his face angrily. He grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys, his movements stiff and detached. Without another word, he walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

And Drake was left there, staring at the ceiling, his heart hammering in his chest, wondering if he had just lost Tristan for good.

---

Tristan stood outside for a moment, breathing in the cool night air before crossing the street. He had no destination in mind, no real plan—just an overwhelming need to be anywhere but in that house with Drake. His feet carried him to his friend's place, the only place he could think of.

When he walked in, Jersey and Dylan were playing a video game, their voices filling the room with friendly banter. Carl was on his phone, seemingly lost in whatever he was reading. But the moment Tristan stepped inside, all three of them looked up, noticing the exhaustion in his expression, the heaviness in his steps. Without a word, Tristan collapsed onto an empty couch, his body sinking into the cushions as though he could disappear into them.

Dylan immediately abandoned the game, his controller dropping onto the floor as he moved over to Tristan’s side. He sat next to him, eyes scanning his face.

“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked, his voice filled with concern.

Tristan let out a shaky breath, rubbing a hand down his face before answering. “Drake has fallen out of love with me.” His voice was quiet, but the weight of his words hung thick in the air. “He doesn’t want me close to him. He won’t even let me touch him, let alone kiss him. He keeps pushing me away, and I don’t know what to do anymore.” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Maybe this is the point where I stop forcing things. Because today…” He swallowed, his voice wavering. “I almost made a huge mistake. And if I don’t let go now, I might do something even more stupid in the future.”

Silence filled the room. The guys exchanged uneasy glances, processing Tristan’s words. They had all witnessed how deeply in love Drake had been with Tristan. If someone had told them that Drake would one day change, they would have bet their lives that he never would. Especially Dylan—who had watched Drake pine after Tristan for over a year. And now? Now that Drake finally had Tristan, he was pushing him away?

“That’s messed up,” Dylan finally said, his voice low with disbelief. “If you think letting go is the best choice, then I’ll always support you.”

Before Tristan could respond, the front door opened, and Nathan walked in, the faint smell of alcohol trailing behind him. His movements were slightly unsteady, his eyes a little unfocused.

Carl immediately rushed over, catching his arm. “Gosh, Nate, you stink of alcohol,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose. “How much did you drink?”

Nathan let out a humorless chuckle. “Just a couple of drinks. Daniel and Ethan insisted.” His words were slightly slurred, but his gaze was sharp when it landed on Tristan.

The moment their eyes met, something shifted in the room. Nathan took in Tristan’s slouched posture, the misery etched onto his face, and his chest tightened.

This… this was too familiar.

He remembered when Tristan had looked like this before—except back then, he had been the cause of it. He had been the one to break Tristan’s heart. And now? Now, the guy he had stepped aside for was doing the same damn thing.

A bitter taste filled Nathan’s mouth.

He had warned Tristan. He had tried to tell him. And yet, Tristan had seen him as the villain.

Their gazes remained locked, an entire conversation passing between them without a single word spoken. And then, just like that, Nathan looked away and walked off toward his room, leaving Tristan sitting there, broken and exhausted.

Tristan exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. He had lost Nathan once. And now… it felt like he was losing everything all over again.