The DON'S OBSESSION

Matteo The glass was sweating in his hand. Matteo stared at the amber liquid like it had betrayed him personally. The ice had melted halfway, thinning the burn he desperately needed. Around him, the bar pulsed with music and careless laughter. People leaned into each other. Strangers flirted. Someone shouted over a joke. The world had the audacity to continue. He lifted the glass and drank anyway. It burned but not enough. It was never serious. The words echoed again. Over and over. A knife pressed gently into his pride. He had given years to someone who walked away like it was nothing. He signaled for another drink. The bartender raised a brow but poured it anyway. Matteo wasn’t the type to lose control. He didn’t drown himself in alcohol. He didn’t make reckless decisions. He kept his life clean. Organized. Tonight, he wanted noise. Something loud enough to silence the humiliation replaying in his head. The door of the bar opened. He didn’t look.But the air shifted. A subtle tension crawled through the room. Conversations dimmed just slightly. A few people straightened unconsciously. Matteo frowned faintly and glanced toward the entrance. And that was when he saw him. Tall. Dressed in black like it was stitched onto him. Calm. Composed. The kind of man who didn’t enter a room he claimed it. Their eyes met. It was brief. But something hit Matteo square in the chest. A strange, sharp awareness. The man didn’t look away. He held Matteo’s gaze like he had already decided something. Matteo’s stomach tightened. He looked down at his drink again, pretending indifference. Pretending his pulse hadn’t jumped. Footsteps approached. The chair across from him slid back. He didn’t give permission. The man sat anyway. Up close, he was worse. Sharper. Darker. A faint scar near his jaw that somehow made him more devastating. “Rough night?” the stranger asked. His voice was low. Smooth. Controlled. Matteo forced a small shrug. “Is it that obvious?” “You’re gripping that glass like it offended you.” A reluctant breath left Matteo almost a laugh. The man’s expression shifted then. Softer. Darker. Like something inside him had decided to step closer. “Hi,” he said quietly. “Can I ease your heartache?” The words should have annoyed him. Instead, they settled into his chest like warmth. Matteo didn’t answer. But he didn’t leave. And the silence between them thickened. The stranger reached out slowly carefully and placed his hand on Matteo’s shoulder. The touch was warm. Firm. Matteo should have pulled away. He didn’t. “You shouldn’t look this heartbroken,” the man murmured. Their faces were closer now. Close enough that Matteo could feel his breath. Close enough to make thinking impossible. And then The kiss. It wasn’t soft. It was fire,Sudden,Fierce. Like both of them had been waiting for permission they didn’t need. Matteo inhaled sharply against his lips. The stranger’s hand tightened slightly at his shoulder, grounding him. Claiming him. Matteo kissed back. He didn’t remember standing up. Didn’t remember leaving the bar. Didn’t remember agreeing to anything. He only remembered heat. LUCA I should have left the moment I walked in. The place was beneath my standards. Too loud. Too careless. I don’t waste time in bars like this unless I have a reason. Then I saw him. And suddenly, I did. He was sitting alone like the world had just taken something from him. Shoulders stiff. Eyes heavy. Pride wounded but intact. Beautiful. Not the kind that tries. The kind that doesn’t need to. The pain on his face irritated me. Because someone else put it there. I don’t know why that bothered me. I don’t interfere in emotional disasters. I don’t rescue strangers. But the moment our eyes met, something clicked. Sharp. Immediate. Mine. The thought was instinctive. Dangerous. I walked toward him before I could reconsider. Up close, he was devastating. His lips were soft even when set in frustration. His eyes guarded, but not cold. There was warmth there buried. When he laughed quietly at my comment, something inside my chest tightened. I wanted that sound again. Only for me. When I placed my hand on his shoulder, I felt the slight tremor he tried to hide. He didn’t pull away. Good. When I kissed him, I didn’t hesitate. I don’t hesitate. His lips were softer than I imagined. Warm. Responsive after the briefest second of shock. When he kissed me back, it wasn’t timid. It was desperate. That desperation did something to me. My hand traced down from his shoulder slowly, memorizing the feel of him through fabric. The shape of him. The warmth. He fit too easily against me. Like this was inevitable. The hotel room was a blur of dim lights and heated breaths. I don’t remember the elevator. I remember pressing him against the door once it closed. I remember the way his fingers curled into my shirt. I remember thinking I am not letting this be the last time. Morning: Matteo woke to warmth. A heavy arm around his waist. A steady breath against the back of his neck. For a second, he didn’t move. Then memory hit. The bar. The kiss. The hotel. The stranger. Shame crawled slowly up his spine. What had he done? He turned his head carefully. The man was asleep. Relaxed. One hand resting possessively near his hip even in unconsciousness. In sleep, he looked younger. Less dangerous. That somehow made it worse. Matteo swallowed. He wasn’t this person. He didn’t jump into bed with strangers hours after heartbreak. He didn’t lose himself in heat just to forget pain. But last night Last night he didn’t want to think. Guilt settled heavy in his chest. Slowly, carefully, he lifted the arm off him. Luca shifted slightly but didn’t wake. Matteo slid out of bed. The air was cold against his skin. He dressed quietly, movements hurried but controlled. He avoided looking at the bed too long. Avoided thinking about how safe he had felt there. He grabbed his phone. Walked to the door. Paused. For a second just one he glanced back. He was still asleep. Strong. Calm. Unaware. Matteo exhaled slowly. And left. The door clicked shut behind him