“The SIP”

Chapter Three — Threads Unraveling

Yay barely slept.

He spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, listening to Zain's breathing beside him.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the café.

Xan standing by the counter.

The way he'd looked at him.

The questions.

The unanswered pauses.

And, most of all, the way Yay had looked back.

He hated that part.

There had been nothing between them.

Not really.

They hadn't kissed.

They hadn't done anything he couldn't explain away.

Yet something had shifted.

And Yay knew it.

He turned onto his side.

Zain was still asleep, one arm stretched across the space between them.

Yay stared at him.

Four years.

Four years of knowing exactly where he belonged.

So why did one conversation with a stranger feel like a crack running through something he'd always believed was solid?

Yay closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, he would forget about Xan.

That was the plan.

Simple.

Necessary.

He would go to work.

He would focus.

He would come home.

And everything would return to normal.

---

Morning arrived too quickly.

Yay stood in front of the wardrobe longer than usual.

He changed his shirt.

Then changed it again.

He stared at himself in the mirror.

"You're being ridiculous," he muttered.

Behind him, Zain leaned against the bedroom door.

"Talking to yourself again?"

Yay turned.

Zain was holding two cups of tea.

One for himself.

One for Yay.

"Maybe."

Zain handed him the cup.

Then his eyes moved over Yay.

"You're dressed early."

"I have a lot to do."

"You always have a lot to do."

There was a smile in Zain's voice, but something underneath it was different.

Yay noticed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

Zain took a sip of tea.

Then, almost casually, he added, "You changed your shirt twice."

Yay froze.

"You noticed?"

"I notice you."

The words should have made Yay smile.

Instead, guilt settled heavily in his stomach.

Zain stepped closer.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

Another quick answer.

Another lie.

Zain didn't look convinced.

But he didn't push.

He simply reached out and straightened Yay's collar.

"There."

Yay looked at him.

For a moment, he felt the urge to tell him everything.

Not the details.

There weren't any details.

Just the truth that someone had gotten into his head.

But how could he explain something he didn't understand himself?

So he leaned forward and kissed Zain.

"I'll see you tonight."

Zain held his gaze.

"Tonight."

Yay left.

But as he walked toward work, one thought kept returning.

Zain had noticed.

---

Work was supposed to be a distraction.

It wasn't.

Yay arrived early and buried himself in tasks.

He checked equipment.

Reviewed schedules.

Answered messages.

He deliberately avoided the areas where he might run into Xan.

For most of the morning, it worked.

Then he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"You're avoiding me."

Yay's hand stopped over the clipboard.

He slowly turned.

Xan stood a few feet away.

Calm.

Composed.

As if he'd been there all morning.

"I've been working."

"That's not what I said."

Yay looked around.

Several people were nearby.

He lowered his voice.

"What do you want?"

Xan studied him.

"I wanted to see if you'd look at me."

Yay frowned.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Xan stepped closer.

Not enough to cause a scene.

Just enough to make Yay aware of him.

"You've been looking everywhere except here."

Yay forced himself to meet his eyes.

"There. Happy?"

Xan smiled.

"A little."

Yay shook his head.

"You're impossible."

"Maybe."

Xan glanced at the clipboard in Yay's hand.

"You've checked the same list three times."

Yay looked down.

He had.

He hated that Xan had noticed.

"You pay too much attention."

"I told you."

Xan's voice softened.

"I notice things."

For a moment, they simply looked at each other.

Then Xan said quietly, "You thought about me."

Yay's stomach tightened.

"No."

The answer came too quickly.

Xan didn't smile.

He didn't need to.

"Interesting."

"What?"

"You answered before I finished asking."

Yay looked away.

"You're playing games."

"Am I?"

Xan stepped closer.

"Then why are you still standing here?"

Yay opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Xan watched him for another second.

Then he stepped back.

"That's what I thought."

He walked away.

Yay watched him disappear into the crowd.

He should have felt relieved.

Instead, he felt angry.

Mostly at himself.

---

By lunchtime, Yay had convinced himself he was done thinking about Xan.

Then he saw him again.

Across the room.

Xan was speaking with another member of the team.

He wasn't looking at Yay.

That should have made things easier.

Instead, Yay found himself watching.

The way Xan smiled.

The way he listened.

The confidence in his posture.

The strange calm that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

Yay caught himself staring.

He looked away immediately.

A few seconds later, his phone buzzed.

A message from Zain.

Lunch yet?

Yay smiled.

He typed:

Not yet. Busy.

Three dots appeared.

Don't forget to eat.

Yay stared at the message.

Something about it hurt.

Zain was still there.

Still caring.

Still loving him in all the ordinary ways that had once felt like the safest thing in the world.

Yay locked his phone.

Then he looked across the room.

Xan was already looking at him.

Their eyes met.

Xan didn't smile.

He simply held his gaze.

Yay looked away first.

---

That evening, Yay returned home later than usual.

Zain was sitting on the couch.

The television was on, but he wasn't watching it.

"You didn't answer my call."

Yay took off his shoes.

"Sorry. I was working."

"You've been working a lot."

"I know."

Zain nodded.

Silence settled between them.

Yay walked toward the kitchen.

"Did you eat?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I was waiting."

Yay stopped.

"For me?"

Zain gave him a small smile.

"Who else?"

Guilt twisted inside Yay.

He walked over and sat beside him.

"I'm sorry."

Zain looked at him.

"For what?"

Yay hesitated.

"Being distant."

Zain's expression changed.

"You've noticed?"

"Of course."

Zain turned toward him.

"Yay, what's happening?"

"Nothing."

"Don't."

The softness in Zain's voice made the word heavier.

"Don't tell me nothing."

Yay swallowed.

"I've just been stressed."

"Is it work?"

"Mostly."

Zain studied him.

"Mostly?"

Yay looked away.

That single word had betrayed him.

Zain reached for his hand.

"Did I do something?"

"No."

"Then is there someone else?"

Yay's heart slammed against his ribs.

"No."

This time, the answer came more slowly.

Zain watched him.

"You're sure?"

Yay nodded.

"Yes."

Zain looked down at their joined hands.

"Okay."

But his voice didn't sound like he believed him.

---

Later that night, Yay lay awake again.

Zain slept beside him.

The room was dark.

Quiet.

Safe.

Yay turned toward the window.

His phone rested on the bedside table.

He stared at it.

Then reached for it.

He opened his messages.

Zain's conversation was at the top.

Below it was a new number.

Xan.

Yay stared at the name.

He hadn't saved the number.

He shouldn't have had it.

Yet there it was.

A message sat beneath it.

You looked like you wanted to say something today.

Yay's heart began beating faster.

He read it again.

Then locked the phone.

He placed it face down.

Five seconds passed.

He picked it up again.

His thumb hovered over the reply box.

He could ignore it.

That would be the sensible thing.

He knew that.

But instead of deleting the message, he typed:

What makes you think I wanted to say something?

He stared at the words.

His finger hovered over send.

This was the moment.

Small.

Almost meaningless.

A conversation.

Nothing more.

Yay pressed send.

The message delivered.

Almost immediately, the reply appeared.

Because you keep looking at me like you're waiting for permission.

Yay's breath caught.

He stared at the screen.

Then slowly looked toward Zain.

Zain was still asleep.

Yay turned back to the phone.

Another message appeared.

Goodnight, Yay.

Then nothing.

Yay sat in the darkness, phone glowing in his hand.

He knew he should delete the conversation.

He knew he should block the number.

Instead, he saved it.

Xan.

He placed the phone beneath his pillow.

And for the first time, Yay understood that the danger wasn't simply that Xan wanted him.

The danger was that, somewhere inside himself—

Yay had begun wanting to be wanted.

And that was a thread he wasn't sure he could unravel.

---