Copyright © 2026 Nuno R.F.C.R. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher or author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles, reviews, and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by applicable copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), actual events, or real locales is entirely coincidental.
"Nobody"
Hudson woke slowly, not jolted but pulled from sleep like a tide receding.
His body felt heavy in that good, used way, warm, loose, satisfied. A silk sheet lay across his hips and thigh, cool against his skin. He blinked, stared at the ceiling, then turned his head.
Liam wasn't in the bed.
Hudson sat up slightly, the sheet sliding down, and scanned the room.
Then he saw him.
Liam sat in an armchair near the window, facing out toward the view, and he looked like he'd been there for a long time. Naked, too, but unselfconscious, one leg bent, an elbow resting on the chair arm, hand near his mouth. His hair was a soft mess.
He wasn't looking at anything specific. More like he was listening to the silence.
Hudson watched him for a long moment without speaking.
It was a small tableau: the famous man in his expensive house, alone in a chair at sunrise, not quite trusting happiness to stay if he moved too suddenly.
Hudson shifted, the sheet whispering, and Liam's head turned.
Their eyes met.
There were no words at first.
Just a glance that lingered, Liam's gaze flickering over Hudson's face, taking in the fact that Hudson was awake, that he was still there. Hudson saw relief behind Liam's calm, quickly hidden, like someone smoothing a wrinkle in a shirt.
Hudson let out a quiet breath. "Hey."
Liam's mouth curved faintly. "Hey."
Silence again.
It wasn't awkward. It was the opposite. Like both of them knew this softness, this uninterrupted morning, was borrowed time. Like it wasn't real in the way normal mornings were up until now. Outside those gates, there were phones, schedules, and people who demanded things.
Inside, there was just this.
Hudson rubbed a hand over his face, blinking sleep away. "How long have you been sitting there?"
Liam shrugged. "A while."
Hudson nodded slowly, as if he understood what that meant.
He tried to smile, but it came out smaller than he wanted. "You look like a sad painting."
Liam's gaze warmed. "You look like a very opinionated statue."
Hudson huffed a laugh, soft. "I'm stiff like one," he replied with that humorous smirk, built to hide his emotions.
Liam's eyes drifted down to the sheet over Hudson's body, then back up again. The quiet hunger was still there, but it was gentler now.
Hudson looked toward the window, where the sky was turning a pale blue, and then back at Liam again, making himself say the thing his body didn't want to.
"It's probably best if I leave," Hudson said.
Liam didn't flinch. He just went still.
His voice came out calm, but lower. "I'd rather you didn't."
Hudson swallowed. He picked at the edge of the silk sheet, as if it had suddenly become interesting. "I have a shift later," Hudson said, trying his best to make work sound like the real reason and not his own fear. "And if I show up looking like this..." he gestured vaguely at himself, "... I'll either get fired or start crying in the walk-in fridge."
Liam's mouth twitched. "You cry in the walk-in fridge?"
Hudson lifted his brows. "It's a private place." Liam's smile lingered for a beat, but Hudson could see it didn't reach all the way into him. So, Hudson softened his tone. "Look, this..." he started before movement stopped his words.
Liam stood.
He crossed the room in bare feet, light tracing his silhouette, making him look less like a star and more like a man who hadn't slept enough, who didn't want to lose something precious he'd just found.
He reached the bed and sat down beside Hudson.
For a second, he just looked at him, close enough that Hudson could feel the heat of him. Liam's hand came up and brushed Hudson's shoulder, a small touch, like testing whether Hudson was still real.
Then Liam leaned in and kissed him. Playful. Hungry in a way that made Hudson laugh into the kiss.
Liam pushed him gently back into the pillows, half-tackling him, the sheet twisting around Hudson's bare waist. Hudson's hands flew up to Liam's shoulders instinctively, gripping him, laughing again because it was ridiculous how quickly Liam could make him forget his own good intentions.
"Liam..." Hudson tried, but Liam kissed him again, stealing the words. Hudson broke away just long enough to breathe, eyes bright with amusement. "You know," he said, trying to sound stern and failing, "you make leaving extremely difficult."
Liam's mouth curved. "Good."
Hudson snorted. "Is that your whole strategy? Just..." he waved his hand, "...overwhelm me until I forget I have a life?"
Liam hovered above him, gaze locked on Hudson's mouth. "It seems to be working."
Hudson laughed softly and tugged Liam closer by the back of his neck. "You're going to ruin me."
Liam's voice dropped, intimate. "I already did. Six times," he teased, left hand sliding down Hudson's back, trailing a slow path down his smooth crack. "We should definitely aim for seven..." Liam added, his voice coming down to that raspy tone. "Seven is a great number," he muttered, lips diving into Hudson's neck.
Hudson's breath caught. His hand slid into Liam's hair, fingers threading through the mess, tugging lightly. Liam's eyes fluttered, mouth parting. They leaned in at the same time, about to kiss again.
And then Liam's phone rang.
Liam went still instantly.
Hudson felt it. The shift in Liam's body, the way his muscles tightened, the way his breath changed. As if a door had been slammed somewhere inside him.
The ringing continued. Liam didn't move yet, but his peaceful disposition had cracked. Hudson's hand stayed on Liam's neck, fingers still tangled in his hair, but his smile faded as he watched Liam's eyes flick briefly toward the nightstand. Toward the phone.
The ringing persisted.
Liam's right hand remained braced beside Hudson's head, his body hovering over him as if he could physically block the world with his spine. His gaze stayed on Hudson, not the phone.
"Look at me," Liam said quietly. Hudson did. Liam's voice softened, urgent in a way he tried to disguise as calm. "I mean it. I want you to stay."
Hudson swallowed. "Liam..."
"I have to take this," Liam said, nodding toward the phone without looking. "But…" He hesitated like the following words mattered more than any call. "Go take a dip in the pool while I deal with it."
Hudson blinked, thrown. "A dip?"
Liam's mouth curved faintly. "Yes. A dip."
Hudson looked toward the window, then back at Liam. He could feel the fear in himself, fear of leaving the room, fear that once Liam answered the phone, the spell would break completely.
He hesitated too long.
Liam's eyes softened, reading him. "Stop thinking."
Hudson exhaled, a small surrender. "Fine."
The relief that flickered across Liam's face then was quick, almost invisible, but it was there. Liam smiled, kissed Hudson once, warm, lingering, and then reached for the phone.
The moment his fingers touched it, something in him shifted.
Not all the way.
But enough.
He picked up. "Yeah," Liam said, voice instantly different, professional, smooth, awake. The actor's voice. "Morning."
Hudson sat up, sheet gathered around his waist, watching him. He'd seen Liam charm, tease, and burn. This version was polished. Efficient. Like a suit sliding on.
Liam stood and began pacing as he listened, free hand rubbing the back of his neck.
"Mmhm. Okay." A pause. "No, I read the new pages. I'm not worried about the scene. It's the transition that's clunky. Tell him to tighten the beats. Keep the silence, but cut the monologue by half." He nodded to himself. "Yeah. Exactly."
Hudson blinked. Liam glanced at Hudson as if suddenly remembering he was there, eyes softening for a fraction of a second.
Then he turned back to the call. "Yes, I can do the table read. But not at eight. Nine-thirty, minimum. I'm not a machine." A pause, then a dry little laugh. "No, I know. I'm aware they all think I'm one."
Hudson mouthed, Wow, silently. Liam's mouth twitched as if he'd heard it anyway.
He crossed the room, still on the phone. "Fitting...today? Not today. Tomorrow afternoon." A beat. "Because I said so. Put it after the meeting with costume. I'm not doing three hours of tailoring and then a script call. I'll get violent."
Hudson's eyes widened, amused.
Liam added quickly, as if clarifying to the person on the other line, "Metaphorically violent. You know what I mean."
He listened, then sighed. "Vogue...no. I'm not doing a shoot in the middle of prep week." Another pause. "Yes, I understand. Yes, I know it's 'important.'"
Hudson's eyebrows shot up at the air quotes implied in Liam's tone.
Liam's voice stayed polite, but the edges sharpened slightly. "If they want me, they can have me next month. I'm not doing a cover while I'm trying to build a character."
He stopped pacing for a second, eyes drifting to Hudson again. Hudson held up his hands in silent applause. Liam's mouth curved, warm for a heartbeat.
Then he turned away again, back into autopilot. "Okay. Fine. Tell them I'll do a quick digital. Ten minutes. No retouching approval debates. If they want more, they can wait."
Hudson slid off the bed, sheet slipping away, and grabbed the robe from the floor. He tied it loosely, still watching Liam.
Liam's voice softened, bargaining. "And no...no brunch meeting. I'm not meeting anyone for eggs at seven in the morning."
Hudson smiled, then pointed toward the window, toward the pool, making a small circular gesture with his hand. 'Now?'
Liam nodded once, still on the phone. "Yeah, yeah, I'll sign. Have legal send it. I'm not reading a PDF on my phone."
Hudson took two steps, then paused and made a helpless gesture toward himself and the robe, then mouthed, exaggeratedly, 'I don't have a bathing suit.'
Liam turned mid-stride, saw the mime, and his eyebrows lifted. Then he mouthed back with absolute calm, 'You don't need one'.
Hudson pressed a hand to his chest as if personally scandalized.
Liam's expression remained serenely wicked. He turned away, continuing the call, voice smooth. "Yeah. I'll be there." A pause. "No, I'm not late. I'm...calibrating."
Hudson mouthed, 'Calibrating?' with a grin.
Liam shook his head once, still pacing. "Tell makeup to stop sending me twenty options. I don't care. I'm not a painting. I'm a person."
Hudson, still holding the robe, backed toward the bathroom with comedic caution, as if the robe might fall off by itself and cause an incident.
Before he disappeared, he caught Liam's gaze one more time. Liam looked at him, eyes softened, and Hudson felt it like a hand on his ribs. Hudson nodded once, then slipped into the bathroom.
The door remained slightly ajar.
Liam's voice drifted through the opening. "No, I'm not upset. I'm trying to come up with a schedule that doesn't kill me."
Hudson turned on the faucet. Cold water splashed into the sink. He looked in the mirror, hair still a mess, cheeks still flushed from sleep and from everything else. He ran his hands under the water, slicked his hair back, then gave up and let it fall into its usual chaos. He grabbed a toothbrush from a drawer. Even the complementary toothbrush looked expensive. He started brushing.
And, with the absurdity of it all pressing on him, he began to sway, small movements at first, then bigger, playful. A little hip roll. A shoulder shimmy. The robe gaping slightly, tied lazily. He made a face at his reflection, eyebrows dancing, as if the mirror were his audience.
He looked ridiculous.
He looked happy.
Liam's pacing slowed in the bedroom.
Hudson could sense him watching.
Liam's voice on the call stayed calm, but a warmth threaded through it now, a faint distraction he couldn't quite hide. "Mmhm. Okay." He paused, listening. "No. I can do the rehearsal. But I'm not doing a second. One. Clean. Efficient."
Hudson rinsed, spit, then rinsed again, still moving like his body couldn't help itself. He toweled his face, then made a dramatic, exaggerated dab.
From the bedroom, Liam sighed softly into the phone. "Yes. I know. I'm aware. But if you schedule me like that, you'll get a zombie. And you don't want a zombie on set."
Hudson leaned over the sink, peering into the mirror, inspecting his teeth like he was judging a horse. Then he smiled at himself, shook his head, and laughed silently.
Liam's voice softened, still professional, but the edge eased. "Fine. Send me the revised timeline. I'll approve it in an hour."
Hudson picked up a comb, tried to fix his hair, then abandoned it after two strokes. He shrugged at his reflection like, I tried, and let the chaos take the prize.
In the doorway, Liam appeared, still on the phone, still pacing, but now leaning against the frame, watching Hudson, amused and quietly stunned, like he couldn't believe he'd been lucky enough to see this.
Hudson lifted his eyebrows, toothbrush still in his mouth, and pointed at Liam like, 'What?'
Liam mouthed, without sound, 'Cute'.
Hudson's eyes rolled dramatically.
Liam returned to the call, voice a touch warmer. "Okay. Great. Yeah. Tell them I'm on board." A pause. "No, I'm not going to post a 'morning update.' I'm not a motivational speaker."
Hudson finished rinsing and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then reached for the robe tie, tightening it slightly as if he'd suddenly remembered he was not, in fact, in his own bathroom.
He caught Liam watching again.
And the tenderness in his gaze, quiet, grateful, made Hudson's chest ache in the softest way.
Liam nodded once. Then he spoke into the phone, voice smooth again. "Alright. Text me the details. And put Stacy on."
Hudson held Liam's gaze through the doorway and made a little swimming motion with his hands. Liam smiled, then gestured with his chin toward the glass window. Toward the pool outside.
Hudson moved past Liam, brushing his shoulder deliberately as he passed, one slutty touch that made Liam's eyes half-close for a second, like the contact soothed him. Liam's free hand hovered as if it wanted to catch Hudson again. But he didn't.
He let Hudson go, watching him walk away with that playful, careless energy, while he stood there with a phone to his ear, juggling deadlines, scripts, fittings, and a magazine shoot. And looking, for once, like he didn't quite hate the noise as much, because Hudson's presence had slipped into the background.
Like a song Liam didn't want to hear the end of.
Hudson padded downstairs in Liam's robe. Almost like he hadn't arrived there a few hours ago in a car that probably cost more than his entire childhood. The house felt even quieter in daylight, the edges of everything sharpened.
Hudson moved through it with an almost irritating ease. Not because he didn't feel the size of what was happening, he did. He felt it in the tight place in his chest, in the way his thoughts kept trying to run ahead and turn this into a story with stakes and consequences.
But Hudson had a gift.
A secret power.
An instinctive, gentle ingenuity that kept him tethered to the moment. Instead of drowning in the future, he usually found small, ordinary things to do with his hands. He adjusted the robe tie. He walked softly so the house wouldn't wake. He paused to admire a plant as if it were a close friend.
That was Hudson's gift: he made the monumental feel manageable.
He reached the sliding glass doors and pushed them open. The pool lay ahead, perfectly still. Hudson stopped at the edge, and for a second, he just stood there, robe on, hands at his sides, and watched the water. His heart was still beating fast from upstairs, from Liam's voice in the doorway, from the way he'd mouthed you don't need one, from the sensation of being wanted so openly it felt almost unreal.
Hudson breathed in. Then he did what he always did when life got too big. He chose play. He tugged the robe belt loose and shrugged it off his shoulders, letting it slide down his arms and fall in a soft heap on the stone. He stood naked in the open morning, just existing. He glanced once at the city, as if daring it to judge him.
Then he took a running step and jumped.
The splash was enormous, cartoonish, a big, jubilant, reckless burst of water that shattered the pool's perfect stillness and sent ripples racing outward. Hudson surfaced with a gasp and a grin, slicking his hair back with both hands, blinking water from his lashes.
"Holy mother f..." he sputtered, then laughed at himself. "Okay. Okay."
He swam a lazy lap, just moving for the pleasure of it. He floated on his back for a moment, arms spread, letting the water hold him like a hand. Every so often, he would dip under and come up again like a kid. Eventually, he drifted to the edge nearest the view.
He rested his forearms on the stone coping and crossed them, chin settling on top, body suspended in the water. From there, the city looked soft and distant, flattened into quiet. The hills rose in gentle folds, and the haze made everything dreamlike.
Hudson stared out at it.
His face grew still.
It was in these quieter moments that Hudson's eyes changed, like the usual jokes and motions were a curtain, and when it slid aside, there was something else beneath. His turquoise eyes caught the light and held it, not bright like glass but deep like water over white stone. They had a hypnotic quality, not because they demanded attention, but because they gave it, because they seemed to look through the world instead of merely at it.
There was something sacred about them, as if Hudson carried a hidden place inside himself, an Arizona sky before heat became punishment, a movie theater with torn seats and black-and-white flickers, a small boy with too much time and a heart that refused to harden. His eyes were a window to that place: a quiet, private sanctuary where hope still existed, stubborn and unembarrassed.
And anyone looking into them might feel, suddenly, the urge to be honest.
Of course, Hudson didn't know that. He had no idea of the depth and the beauty of himself. Or the blessing quality of his gaze. A turquoise ocean of glaring empathy and gentleness anyone would gladly drown in.
Because to Hudson, he simply was.
He stared at the horizon when a small splash sounded behind him. A body entering the water. Hudson didn't turn away. He stayed there, feeling the presence, the shift in temperature, the faint current moving toward him.
Hudson finally glanced over his shoulder.
Liam was floating toward him, his broad shoulders just visible above the waterline, face softer out here, stripped of the house and the phone calls and the armor. His eyes were fixed on Hudson with a quiet intensity that didn't have anywhere to hide in broad daylight.
Hudson's chest tightened. "Don't you have...calls to make? Like a whole team to manage?"
"I do," Liam said, coming closer. "They'll survive."
Hudson's eyebrows lifted. "That's your new motto? They'll survive?"
Liam's mouth curved. "It's either that or I don't."
Hudson's smile faltered for a second. Liam saw it. So he drifted closer until he was right behind Hudson, water pressing them near the edge.
Hudson turned fully now, leaning back into the coping, eyes on Liam. "So, you're not supposed to be in here," Hudson said lightly.
Liam's gaze dipped to Hudson's mouth. "I'm not supposed to do a lot of things."
Hudson exhaled. Liam moved in and slid an arm around Hudson's waist under the water, firm and gentle at once. Hudson's breath caught. Liam pulled him off the edge without warning, drawing Hudson into open water. Hudson let out a surprised laugh, arms instinctively wrapping around Liam's shoulders for balance.
"Hey..." Hudson spluttered. "I was resting."
Liam's voice was close. "I missed you."
Hudson froze. Not because the words were grand, they weren't. In fact, they were almost casual. But the truth under them hit harder than any compliment.
Hudson blinked, throat tight, then covered it with sarcasm. "It's been like...twenty minutes."
Liam's mouth brushed Hudson's temple in something like a kiss. "Long twenty minutes."
Hudson huffed a laugh that sounded too soft. "Jesus Christ, you're so dramatic." Liam's eyes met his, and they floated, the water holding them close, bodies moving with small currents like breathing. Hudson spoke again, voice low, careful. "I'm serious, you didn't have to come out here."
Liam's gaze stayed steady. "I wanted to."
Hudson swallowed. "Why?"
Liam's jaw flexed once, like he was choosing words that wouldn't betray him. "Because when you left the room, it got...loud again."
Hudson's expression softened despite himself. "You mean your phone."
Liam's mouth twitched, but his eyes didn't. "I mean everything."
Silence.
Hudson's thumb moved lightly along Liam's shoulder under the water, an absent, soothing motion. Hudson tried to keep it light, but at this point, everything with Liam felt too big.
"You're going to get me in trouble," Hudson murmured, and he meant it in every possible way.
Liam's brow lifted. "Trouble?"
Hudson nodded once, eyes flicking down to Liam's mouth and back up again. "You know. With my...very serious life."
Liam gave a quiet laugh. "Your serious life."
Hudson's smile was small. "I have rent."
Liam's arms tightened a fraction, as if the word rent was a reminder of the world waiting outside. A world he had forgotten existed. He looked at Hudson for a long beat, then said, softly, "I can't...change what I am."
Hudson's chest tightened again. He tried to pretend he didn't understand, but he did. He understood the gate. The driver. The cameras. The noise. The phone calls.
He kept his voice casual anyway. "I'm not asking you to." Liam's eyes searched his. Hudson shook his head. "I'm just..." he exhaled, then forced a crooked smile. "I'm just trying to not be a complete idiot."
Liam leaned in and kissed him. Hudson responded immediately, because there was no point pretending he didn't want it.
When they broke apart, Hudson rested his forehead briefly against Liam's.
"Last week I was serving fries," Hudson whispered, half laughing at the absurdity. "Now I'm naked in a pool with..." He stopped himself.
Liam's voice was hushed. "With me." Hudson nodded slightly. Liam's fingers traced Hudson's waist under the water. "I'm not trying to play with you. I just...I like being with you," he said. "You make things feel...simple."
Hudson snorted softly. "I'm literally a fucking mess."
Liam's mouth brushed Hudson's again, an almost-kiss. "No. You're...clear."
Hudson's eyes softened, that window opening again, that sacred place behind them showing through. "You don't even know me."
Liam's gaze didn't waver. "I know enough."
Hudson's fingers slid into Liam's damp hair, gentle, grounding. Then he leaned in and kissed Liam again, slower this time, letting the kiss say what his mouth refused to risk.
Hudson hovered there, legs looped around Liam's waist beneath the surface, ankles loosely crossed at the small of Liam's back, as if he'd climbed there on instinct and his muscles had decided they liked the view. Liam held him with one arm around his lower back and the other hand splayed at Hudson's ribs, thumb moving in slow, absent circles.
They floated in the quiet middle of the pool, far enough from the edge that the world felt muted.
Hudson pressed his forehead to Liam's for a second, then pulled back. Liam's eyes were steady on his, almost carefully calm. Like if he relaxed too much, something might slip.
Hudson tried to joke his way out of the warmth that spread in his chest. "You should really get a dog," he said. "They're great for attachment issues."
Liam's eyes narrowed. "Wanna be my bitch?"
Hudson rolled his eyes, but his arms tightened around Liam's neck. "Funny," he muttered before his brain went into defense mode again. "Okay," Hudson said, clearing his throat. "I should probably shower."
Liam frowned slightly. "Again?"
Hudson gave him a look. "You're clingy, and I respect it, but yes."
Liam's hand slid down to Hudson's thigh under the water, thumb brushing lightly. "You don't need to."
Hudson frowned. "I'm not walking into my apartment smelling like your entire life."
Liam's mouth twitched. "My entire life?"
Hudson nodded firmly. "Yes. Your fancy candles. Your expensive soap. Your...existential dread."
Liam laughed, then sighed. "Fine. Shower."
Hudson added, trying to sound casual, "And I still have to take the bus back."
Liam's expression sharpened. "No."
Hudson blinked. "No, what?"
"No bus," Liam said, as if the concept offended him.
Hudson lifted an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Liam gestured vaguely toward the hills around them. "There isn't even a bus stop around."
Hudson's mouth twisted. "That's...very dystopian."
"It's convenient," Liam corrected.
Hudson scoffed. "It's rich."
Liam's eyes narrowed, amused. "I'll have the driver take you back."
Hudson's laugh burst out. "No fucking way."
Liam frowned. "Why?"
Hudson's eyes sharpened, water dripping down both of them. "Because I don't want my life...hijacked."
Liam blinked. "Hijacked?"
Hudson nodded. "Yeah. Like, suddenly I'm the guy who gets picked up by a driver every day, and then I forget how to exist on public transportation. Next thing you know, I'm eating chia pudding and calling water 'still' like an asshole."
Liam laughed, then leaned in and kissed Hudson's mouth like he wanted to shut him up and keep him talking at the same time. "Chia pudding is delicious."
Hudson pulled back, appalled. "You're proving my point."
Liam's hands tightened at Hudson's waist. "Let me take you home."
Hudson's voice softened, earnest under the sarcasm. "I have to be able to go home by myself, Liam. Like...normally."
Liam went still. He seemed to understand the deeper part of what Hudson meant: Don't turn me into something I can't control. Don't make me dependent on a world that isn't mine. Liam exhaled slowly. Then, like a switch flipping, he started doing what Hudson had already noticed he did best: managing impossible situations.
"Fine," Liam said, calm now, eyes focused. "We do it your way."
Hudson blinked. "We do?"
Liam nodded once, already forming a plan out loud. "Yeah. Shower. Take your bus. Go to work. I promise I won't send a driver to follow you like a creep."
Hudson's eyebrows relaxed. "Thank you."
Liam's gaze stayed steady. "But I wanna see you again." Hudson's chest tightened. Liam continued, practical, as if scheduling an entire film shoot and not a second date with a man he was trying not to fall for too fast. "Tonight. After your shift."
Hudson's eyes widened. "Tonight?"
Liam nodded. "You get off when?"
Hudson hesitated. "Late."
"How late?"
Hudson narrowed his eyes. "Are you...interviewing me?"
Liam's mouth curved. "Yes."
Hudson sighed theatrically. "Fine. Around midnight."
Liam nodded like that was completely acceptable. "I'll have the driver pick you up."
Hudson immediately said, "We went over this...No."
Liam's eyes flicked up. "Okay. Then I'll pick you up."
Hudson blinked. "Where?" Liam opened his mouth. Hudson cut in quickly. "Not my apartment."
Liam's brows lifted. "Why?"
Hudson grinned, embarrassed. "Because my roommate will freak out...and then he'll give you a speech about power bottoms, and I will die."
Liam laughed, startled. "Your roommate sounds fun."
"What can I say...he's...a public servant," Hudson corrected.
Liam's smile lingered, then he leaned in and kissed Hudson's mouth. When they separated, Liam said, quieter, "Your place can wait. I guess."
Hudson swallowed. "Okay," he said, breathless but determined, "we need to talk logistics."
Liam blinked. "Logistics."
"Yes," Hudson said, nodding earnestly. "You can't just..." He gestured vaguely at the house, the hills, the invisible cameras beyond them. "...appear places."
Liam smiled and kissed Hudson's cheek, right under the eye.
Hudson faltered. "Stop doing that."
"What?" Liam asked innocently.
"That," Hudson said, then lost his train of thought as Liam kissed the bridge of his nose. "I'm trying to be responsible here."
Liam's mouth curved. "I don't see the problem."
Hudson squinted at him. "You wouldn't."
Liam dipped his head and kissed Hudson's temple, lingering there just long enough to feel Hudson's breath hitch. "Fine. Tell me the rules."
Hudson sighed, torn between irritation and melting entirely. "Okay...rule number one: we don't meet anywhere with valet parking. That's just paparazzi bait."
Liam nodded solemnly. “No valet.”
"Number two," Hudson continued, gathering momentum, "you can't pick me up anywhere that looks remotely like a place where they'd shoot a music video." Liam kissed the side of Hudson's neck. Hudson sucked in a breath. "You are absolutely sabotaging this conversation."
Liam smiled against his skin. "I can't help it. You're adorable when you're focused."
Hudson's voice wavered. "I'm not adorable. I am cunning..." he added in the most adorable way.
Liam pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes soft, surrendered in a way Hudson still wasn't used to. "So, where do you want to meet?"
That stopped Hudson.
Not the question, but the way Liam asked it. No pushback. No argument. Like Hudson's comfort mattered more than Liam's convenience.
Hudson swallowed. "Somewhere boring," he said finally. "Somewhere...normal."
Liam's eyebrows lifted. "Ouch."
Hudson smiled faintly. "Exactly."
Liam leaned in again, kissing Hudson's jaw, then his chin. "Don't worry. I'll blend."
Hudson snorted. "You're six feet of recognizable cheekbones. How the fuck are you gonna do that?"
"I'll wear a hat."
"That has literally never worked," Hudson said.
Liam laughed softly and kissed Hudson's lower lip, pulling it playfully with his teeth. "Then tell me what will."
Hudson rested his forehead against Liam's, their noses brushing. "You walk. No driver. No entourage. You text me when you're close. If I see a camera, I bail."
Liam nodded immediately. "Done."
Hudson blinked. "That was...easy."
Liam kissed him again, brief and sweet. "I'm not negotiating."
Hudson's voice dropped, quieter. "You don't have to..." he choked.
Liam's hand tightened at Hudson's back, holding him closer in the water. "I want to."
Hudson looked at him for a long second before the city slowly began to blur behind Liam's shoulder. "You're terrible at pretending you don't."
Liam smiled, a little vulnerable. "Only when it's you."
That did it.
Hudson's whole body leaned in and kissed Liam, longer this time, slower, their mouths fitting together, tongues dancing. Liam responded immediately, a low hum in his chest, his thumb brushing Hudson's spine. He could feel Liam's hard cock crawl up his crack, nudging itself against his new favorite spot.
Hudson pulled back with effort. "Okay. Okay." Hudson's fingers slid into Liam's hair. "We just...take it slow."
Liam nodded against him. "Slow," he murmured, his tone dipping into that quiet hunger. "I can do slow."
They stared at each other, floating, the city below them, the world waiting at the gates.
Just as they were about to seal the deal, just as Liam's mouth moved toward Hudson's again, just as Hudson started to smile, a voice cut through behind them.
"Well," the woman drawled, loud enough to be heard over the water and their suddenly thudding hearts. "This is either the best PR stunt I've ever seen...or the dumbest."
Hudson jerked so hard he nearly dunked both of them. "Jesus!" he hissed, then immediately corrected himself, because he was naked in a pool and a stranger had just walked in on them. Unannounced. "I mean...holy..."
He twisted to look.
A woman stood at the edge of the pool like she owned the place. Huge sunglasses covered half her face. Her hair was immaculate. Her posture said she didn't knock, she arrived. She looked down at them with a slow, assessing stillness that made Hudson feel, instantly, like he'd wandered onto a set he didn't have a clearance for.
Liam's arms tightened around Hudson. His jaw set. He didn't look surprised. He looked upset. And Hudson felt the shift in Liam. The same thing that happened every time the phone rang.
Liam's voice went flat, restrained. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
The woman smiled, unreadable behind her sunglasses.
"Morning, Liam," she said sweetly. Then her gaze dropped pointedly to Hudson, wrapped around him in the water. "And...whoever this is."
Hudson drifted behind Liam without meaning to.
He hovered close enough that his chest brushed Liam's back, half-hidden behind Liam's shoulder, arms folding across his own chest underwater in a reflexive attempt at modesty that was, frankly, useless. The woman at the edge of the pool didn't look like the type who needed to see more to understand everything.
She stood with her weight on one hip, lips painted the kind of red that screams 'boardrooms' and 'expensive martinis'. Mid-forties, cougar-perfect, sleek hair, sculpted cheekbones, a white linen blouse, and gold jewelry.
Hudson cursed again, quietly, mostly to himself.
Liam spoke first, voice even. "Marina."
The woman smiled as if she'd been called to the front of the class. "So," she said. Then she angled her chin toward Hudson's position behind him. "This is new."
Hudson's mouth opened. He had exactly one second to decide whether he should speak or pretend he was a decorative pool feature.
Liam beat him to it, calm as a man reciting weather. "You're early."
Marina's smile didn't change. "Am I?"
"Yes," Liam said. "You are."
Marina's head tilted. "Interesting. Because my calendar says otherwise."
Liam's jaw flexed once. "Your calendar is wrong."
Marina let out a soft little laugh that sounded like someone who'd been amused by wealthy men for decades. "My calendar is never wrong."
Hudson watched Liam's hand close into a fist under the water for half a second, then open again. Like he'd been trained to argue without raising his voice.
Liam's tone stayed polite. "Then you should have waited."
Marina's smile cooled a degree. "I did wait."
Liam's eyes narrowed. "On my property."
Marina lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. "It's a lovely property."
Liam's voice remained soft, but the edge sharpened. "To which you weren't invited."
Marina leaned forward slightly, peering at him over her sunglasses like a teacher about to deliver consequences. "You disappeared."
Liam's expression didn't flicker. "I took a morning."
Marina's mouth curved. "You took a morning without telling anyone."
Liam's gaze held steady. "That's kind of the point of taking a morning."
Hudson's lips twitched despite the panic. Oh, he's good, Hudson thought, and then immediately thought, Oh my God, this is happening while I'm naked.
Marina's voice remained conversational, but it carried pressure. "There are calls you don't miss, Liam."
Liam's smile was brief and humorless. "And yet."
Marina sighed, patiently, as if she were dealing with a talented child. "You have a fitting at two. A script meeting at four. A call with the studio at five-thirty. And..."
Liam cut in gently, "Stop listing my day like it's a grocery list."
Marina paused, the smile returning. "Do you want me to list the consequences instead?"
Liam's eyes went colder. "Do you want to do this right here?"
Marina's gaze flicked toward the water, toward Hudson behind Liam. Her smile widened, feline. "Oh. Is it awkward to do in front of...company?"
Hudson made a slight choking sound that he tried to disguise as a cough. It came out like a dying dolphin. "Sorry," Hudson muttered, mortified.
Liam didn't turn around, but his hand drifted back under the water and briefly touched Hudson's thigh, one steadying press. Hudson clung to that touch like a life raft.
Marina's mouth curved as if she'd noticed everything anyway. "Who's he?"
Liam's answer was immediate. "He's not part of this conversation."
Marina's eyebrows lifted. "He's wrapped around you like a scarf, Liam."
Hudson squeezed his eyes shut. Kill me.
Liam's voice softened, dangerous. "Careful."
Marina held up a hand, mock innocent. "Fine. I'll be good."
Liam inhaled slowly through his nose.
Hudson leaned closer to Liam's ear, voice low. "Maybe I should...go."
Liam turned his head just slightly, not enough for Marina to see his expression fully, but enough for Hudson to catch it, tension held tight behind his eyes.
"No," Liam murmured.
Hudson blinked. "Liam..."
Liam's voice stayed calm but firm. "No. You should enjoy your morning off."
Hudson's throat tightened at the choice of words, afternoon off, as if Liam could still pretend this was normal.
Liam's gaze was fixed upward, speaking to Hudson as if Marina weren't there. "Stay."
Hudson hesitated, then nodded once, because there was something in Liam's voice that wasn't just command, it was need, dressed in calm.
Liam leaned back slightly and whispered close to Hudson's ear, so close that Hudson felt his breath.
"I'll be right back."
Hudson swallowed hard. "Okay."
Liam pulled away. The movement broke the illusion completely. Liam swam to the edge, climbed out of the pool, water streaming down his body in clean lines. Autopilot settling over him like armor. He reached for a robe draped over a sunbed and pulled it on, tying it with one quick tug.
Marina watched him, sunglasses hiding everything that mattered.
Liam glanced at her. "Let's take this inside," he said.
Marina's smile returned. "Fine."
Liam didn't look at Hudson again. He turned and walked toward the house, Marina following at his side.
The moment the glass door slid shut behind them, Marina turned on Liam so fast it was almost graceful.
"Are you out of your mind?" she hissed, the sweetness gone, the smile erased like it had never existed. Her sunglasses were still on, which somehow made it worse, like she didn't even need her eyes to cut. "Do you have any idea what's happening right now?"
Liam stood in the robe, water still beading on his collarbones, hands at his sides. He looked composed, but his jaw was set hard enough to crack a tooth.
"It's seven in the morning," he said. "Please don't start a war in my living room."
Marina laughed once, sharp, humorless. "The whole team is freaking out, Liam. Your publicist has been awake for twenty-six hours. Agents are on call with the studio. Everyone is trying to cover for you, and you're..." she pointed back toward the glass, toward the pool, as if she could still see Hudson floating out there, "...playing house."
Liam's eyes flickered, then hardened again. "I wasn't playing anything."
"You went off the grid," Marina snapped. "Again."
Liam's voice stayed low. "I didn't. I took a morning."
Marina stepped closer, heels silent on the floor, predator-quiet. "You don't get to 'take mornings.' Not when there are contracts. Not when there are press obligations. Not when the whole machine is moving, and you decide to sit down in the middle of it like you're...like you're a person."
The last words came with a strange contempt, as if 'person' were an inconvenience.
Liam exhaled slowly through his nose. "I am a person."
Marina's head tilted. "Are you?"
The way she said it, flat, almost bored, hit like a slap.
Liam's eyes flashed. "Don't."
Marina's lips curved faintly. "Don't what? Remind you who you are?"
Liam's voice tightened. "You mean who you made me."
For a second, something real moved under Marina's face, something like offense, something like wounded pride. Then it vanished, replaced by professional disgust.
"I did make you," she said softly, with dangerous certainty. "I built you. I picked you up when you were a kid with no guardrails and parents who couldn't even show up on time, and I turned you into the most bankable star in Hollywood. Do not speak to me like I'm the enemy."
"You're not my fucking mother," Liam said.
Marina smiled, sharp as glass. "No. I'm worse. Mothers get thanked. I get blamed."
Liam looked away, just for a beat, as if his eyes couldn't bear to stay on her. He crossed toward the kitchen island, putting distance between.
Marina followed immediately.
That was the choreography of them. Liam moved. Marina closed the gap. Like they'd rehearsed it for years.
"You're acting reckless," Marina said, voice dropping, turning coaxing, almost tender. Weaponized gentleness. "You've been...slippery lately. Not answering. Canceling things. Making decisions without consulting..."
"I'm twenty-five, for fuck sake," Liam cut in, turning back. "I don't need permission to breathe."
Marina's mouth tightened. "No, you just need an entire infrastructure to keep you from collapsing."
Liam's eyes went cold. "I didn't ask you to come here."
"You don't have to," Marina replied. "I come because if I don't, things unravel. That's what happens when you stop listening. When you start getting ideas."
Liam's nostrils flared. "Ideas like having a fucking life?"
Marina's sunglasses dipped slightly as she leaned in. Even without seeing her eyes, Liam felt the stare. "Yes," she said. "Exactly like that."
Liam let out a short, bitter laugh, disbelieving. "Do you even hear yourself?"
Marina's voice sharpened. "Do you? You're bringing strangers into your house. Into this house. You're letting them see you when you're not curated. When you're not..."
"I was in a fucking pool," Liam snapped.
Marina's smile returned, small and nasty. "You were in a pool with another man wrapped around you."
Liam froze. Not because she was wrong. Because she'd said it out loud.
Marina stepped closer, lowering her voice to something intimate, almost affectionate, as if she were comforting him, and not tightening the leash. "This is familiar," she murmured.
Liam's spine went rigid. "Stop."
Marina's head tilted. "Stop what? Pretending we haven't done this dance before?"
Liam swallowed. His hands flexed at his sides, then stilled again. He looked like a man trying to hold himself inside his own skin.
Marina continued, smooth, relentless. "What do you think happens if this gets out of control? What do you think the studio does if you become a liability? They don't care about your feelings. They care about numbers. Markets. Audiences that want you in a neat little box."
Liam's voice came out like a warning. "I said, stop."
"And don't," Marina cut in, "don't look at me like I'm the villain. I'm the only person in your life who tells you the truth without sugarcoating it."
"You're not telling me the truth," Liam said.
Marina's voice dropped, silk over steel. "I'm telling you what should scare you." She took one slow step nearer, invading his space with practiced precision. "There are pictures of you sitting with this guy in a second-grade restaurant. Granted, we can barely tell it's you," she said quietly. "But you know as well as I do, a story is a story even if it's wrong. Headlines like this become wildfire. And you know what the public loves more than you?"
Liam didn't answer.
Marina's mouth curved. "They love watching you fall."
Liam's chest rose with a slow breath. "So what is this? You're here to, what, save me from myself?"
Marina's sunglasses caught the light. "I'm here to save my investment."
There it was.
No love.
No concern.
Ownership.
Liam's face tightened, the word landing somewhere old and bruised.
Marina softened her voice again, turning it almost maternal, almost kind. "Liam... I've protected you for two decades. I have covered your mistakes. I have cleaned up your messes. I have kept you alive in an industry that devours boys like you."
Liam's eyes flickered.
Marina pressed. "Don't make me choose between protecting you and protecting your career."
Liam's laugh was empty. "Those are the same thing to you."
Marina didn't deny it. She lifted her chin. "Whatever you think you're doing," she said, "whatever experiment this is, this little...indulgence...you need to shut it down. Now. Before you start thinking you can have..." Her mouth hesitated for half a second, as if she wouldn't even say the word. "...both," she finished, and it was clear what she meant without naming it.
Liam's eyes went ice. "I don't wanna have this conversation."
Marina's voice sharpened. "Oh, we are having it. Because if you think for one second that you can..."
"Fuck off," Liam shouted again, louder this time. "Stop talking about me like I'm a problem to manage."
Marina didn't raise her voice.
She never did when it mattered.
She stood a few feet from Liam, posture loose, hands folded lightly at her waist, like she was waiting for him to finish a thought she already knew the ending to.
She sighed, slow and practiced. "Do you remember," Marina said gently, "the first time you froze on set?"
Liam's jaw tightened. "Don't."
"You were thirteen," she went on, undeterred. "You forgot a line. Just one. And the director lost his mind. Yelled. Threw his script. Everyone watched."
Liam looked away, toward the glass, toward the brightness outside that felt unreachable now.
"I stepped in," Marina said softly. "I sent everyone away. I sat with you on the floor of that filthy bathroom while you cried into my jacket. You told me you didn't want to do it anymore." She tilted her head, studying him. "Do you remember what I told you?"
Liam swallowed. "You told me I was special."
"I told you," Marina corrected, voice kind but firm, "that if you walked away, the world would replace you before lunch. Talent is common. Staying power is rare."
She took a step closer.
Not invading.
Inviting.
"And you listened," she said. "You stayed. You worked. You became...this." She gestured vaguely at him, not the robe, or the house, but the invisible monument of his career. "I protected you," Marina continued. "From bad scripts. From scandals. From yourself." A pause. "I still do."
Liam's voice was tight. "By controlling me."
Marina smiled faintly. "By guiding you." She let the word hang, then softened again, like a hand on a fevered forehead. "You're standing on everything you've ever wanted," she said. "Legacy roles. Creative control. The kind of freedom people only get when they've proven they're worth the risk."
Liam laughed once, bitterly. "And I ruin that by...what? Liking someone?"
Marina's eyes sharpened behind the sunglasses. "By needing someone."
That landed.
She pressed on, relentless but calm. "You know how this story goes. It starts small. Discreet. You tell yourself you're being careful. Then someone sees something. Or someone talks. Or someone gets hurt." She paused. "And suddenly it's not about you anymore."
Liam's fingers curled into his palm.
"They don't forgive men who confuse them," Marina said. "They don't like it when the fantasy cracks. They don't want nuance. They want certainty." She reached out then, not touching him. "You can have this," she said, gesturing to the house, the future, the unspoken dream. "Or you can have...feelings."
Liam's voice dropped. "You're asking me to choose."
Marina's smile was almost maternal. "No. I'm reminding you which choice you've already made."
Liam looked past her, toward the door, toward the pool. His face betrayed him, too much tenderness, too much conflict. Then, Liam did what he always did when Marina cornered him.
He grabbed the nearest lie that would end the argument. "Relax," Liam said, voice flat. "He's...nobody."
The words left his mouth like ash.
Even as he said them, something in his face pushed through the lie, a flicker of regret too quick to catch unless you were looking for it.
Marina's smile softened, satisfied. "Good."
Just then, the glass door behind them creaked.
Both of them turned.
Hudson stood there. His face was pale with the shock of it, not just the argument, not just the intensity, but that one word.
Nobody.
The house held its breath.
Hudson's mouth opened as if a joke might rush out to save him, his usual armor, but nothing came.
Hudson's face emptied out so fast it was almost frightening. The hurt didn't flare or argue. It simply shut a door somewhere inside him and locked it.
"I just...came in to get my stuff," he said, voice flat with effort.
Marina's mouth curved like she'd been waiting for her cue. "Good. Then we should have you sign an NDA on the way out."
Hudson blinked once, like the words had to travel a long distance to reach him.
Liam snapped his head toward Marina. "You shut the fuck up!"
Marina lifted her chin, calm and superior behind her sunglasses, like she'd been yelled at by bigger men than Liam and lived to coordinate their schedules.
Hudson's gaze stayed on Liam for half a second, just long enough for Liam to see the damage, and then Hudson looked away.
Then, he moved.
Fast.
"I'm fine," Hudson said, already stepping inside. "It's fine. Seriously."
"Hudson..." Liam started, voice low, immediate.
Hudson didn't stop. He turned toward the stairs like he was trying to outrun his own heartbeat.
Liam followed.
"Hudson, wait," Liam said, crossing the living room in two strides. He hadn't touched him yet. He sounded like he was trying to keep everything from shattering just by controlling the volume of his voice.
Hudson took the stairs two at a time, the robe flaring behind him. He burst into Liam's bedroom, and the air in there felt different now, too full of the night that had happened and could never be unhappened.
He yanked his backpack from the corner where he'd left it, hands clumsy and shaking. Jeans. Shirt. Socks. His phone. His wallet. He moved like if he stopped moving, he might start crying. God knows, he wanted to.
Behind him, Liam appeared in the doorway.
He didn't block it. He didn't raise his voice. But the room narrowed anyway, because Liam had a way of doing that.
"Hudson," Liam said, carefully, "don't go."
Hudson laughed once, small, broken, almost embarrassed. "You don't get to..."
"I didn't mean it," Liam cut in, voice soft but strained.
Hudson pulled on his jeans, not even bothering to dry properly, the fabric struggling against his damp skin. "I know."
Liam blinked. "You know?"
Hudson's hands shook as he found his shirt. "Yeah. I know exactly what happened." He shoved an arm through a sleeve. "You said it because you had to."
Liam stepped farther in, barefoot on the carpet, voice still gentle, but the desperation in it crawled up every syllable. "Hudson, look at me."
Hudson didn't. He yanked on his shirt. "It's okay. I understand."
"That's not..." Liam's throat bobbed. He swallowed hard, and Hudson saw the old guardrails sliding into place, Liam fighting to stay open and failing. "That's not what I want."
Hudson grabbed his socks, shoved them into his bag without putting them on, hands moving faster now as if going fast could erase his humiliation.
"It's probably best if we end whatever this is," Hudson said, voice steadier than his body. "Before it...before it becomes something that fucks both of us up."
Liam's jaw flexed. "It's already fucked up."
Hudson shook his head, a sharp no. "No. You're fine. You have..." he gestured vaguely, helplessly, at the room, the house, the invisible machine of Liam's life, "...all this. And I'm..."
He cut himself off before he said nobody. The word was still lodged somewhere behind his teeth like a shard.
Hudson tried again, softer, because he hated that his voice was starting to break. "I would feel like shit if I were the reason your life got turned upside down. I don't want to be a...problem you end up regretting."
Liam stared at him like the concept was obscene. "You're not a problem."
Hudson slung his backpack over one shoulder and moved toward the door.
Liam stepped in front of him, not blocking, but present enough to stop momentum. "Please," Liam said quietly. "Don't."
Hudson tried to pivot around him. Liam's hand shot out and closed around Hudson's forearm. Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to stop.
They both froze.
Hudson stared down at Liam's hand on his arm like it suddenly belonged to a stranger. For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Hudson whispered. "Liam." Liam didn't loosen. Hudson swallowed, forcing the words out like they were needles. "Let me go."
Liam's grip tightened a fraction, instinctive. His eyes lifted to Hudson's, raw with something he was trying to hide and failing. "I don't want to," Liam whispered back.
Hudson's eyes shimmered, furious with tears.
He looked down at Liam, at this beautiful man with his world closing in around him, and something hard settled in Hudson's chest: a boundary built out of self-respect and survival.
Hudson's voice came out low, shaking. "Well...this is not about what you want anymore."
Liam blinked, as if the words stunned him.
Hudson gently but firmly grabbed Liam's hand and peeled it off his arm. He stepped past him and flew down the stairs. In the living room, Marina stood exactly where she'd been, still as a sculpture, sunglasses on. Hudson brushed past her without stopping.
He was halfway outside before he realized his hands were shaking so badly he could barely tie his shoes. He kept moving anyway, barefoot panic replaced by adrenaline. He jogged down the driveway, robe replaced by his wrinkled clothes, hair a mess, eyes burning. He cursed under his breath in a stream that was mostly vowels and rage. He blinked hard, over and over, trying to cage the tears before they spilled.
He reached the gate.
The gate was closed.
Hudson stopped dead, chest heaving, and stared at it like it was personally mocking him.
He looked left.
Fence.
He looked right.
More fence.
He looked up at the keypad mounted on a pillar like a bomb he didn't know how to defuse.
"Are you..." Hudson started, then caught himself, because screaming at an expensive gate felt like a new low even for him. He slapped the pillar lightly, as if reprimanding it. "Open. Please. I'm having a crisis."
The gate remained unmoved.
Hudson glanced back up the driveway, disoriented, shoulders rising with a helpless laugh that sounded one second away from becoming a sob.
That's when a soft mechanical whir started. The gate began to slide open. Hudson blinked, startled, then looked up the driveway again.
Marina stood there near the top, arm extended, holding a small remote like a queen granting mercy. Sunglasses still on. Posture flawless. Calm as if she hadn't just detonated a bomb in Liam's living room.
Hudson's mouth fell open.
He threw his hands up and shouted, voice cracking between sarcasm and genuine gratitude, "Thank you!"
Marina didn't wave.
She lowered the remote and walked away.
Hudson slipped through the opening as soon as it was wide enough, practically sprinting out of the property.
And he didn't look back.
Not once.
*
The lock stuck for half a second before it gave.
Hudson twisted the key hard and shoved the door open with his shoulder, stumbling into the apartment.
Mateo was in the middle of the living room, shirt half-buttoned, one earring in, the other dangling from his fingers. He looked up, took one look at Hudson, and didn't even bother softening it.
"Wow," Mateo said. "You look like shit."
Hudson didn't answer. He just let the door close behind him and leaned against it for a second, forehead resting on the wood.
Mateo squinted. "Wait." He glanced at the clock on the microwave. Then back at Hudson. "Hold on. You're late for work."
Hudson pushed off the door and shuffled forward.
Mateo's brow furrowed. "You're never late for work."
Hudson crossed the room like his bones had turned to sand and collapsed onto the couch, sinking into it as if it were the only thing left that knew how to hold him. His backpack slid to the floor. His phone slipped from his hand and landed beside him.
He stared at the ceiling. The fan blades turned slowly above him, chopping the air into useless pieces.
Hudson blinked once.
Then again.
He tried to keep it contained, kept his mouth pressed tight, jaw clenched, breath measured.
But it didn't work.
The sound came out of him before he could stop it, a slight, broken hitch that cracked open into something wetter and messier. His face folded. He turned his head toward the back of the couch, pressing his cheek into the cushion like he could disappear into it.
Mateo froze.
Then, without another word, he dropped his bag. The earring clinked against the coffee table as he abandoned it. "Oh," Mateo said, tone immediately different. "Oh, no. No, no, no.”
He crossed the room in two steps and sat down hard beside Hudson, then thought better of it and turned, pulling Hudson toward him instead. Mateo wasn't gentle in a careful way. He was solid, present, arms wrapped around Hudson.
Hudson's breath stuttered. His shoulders shook. He cried into Mateo's shirt with the ugly, undignified honesty of someone who'd been holding it together on pure adrenaline.
Mateo pressed his cheek to the top of Hudson's head and rocked him slightly. "Okay," he murmured. "It's okay. I've got you." He stopped himself. "Just...breathe."
Hudson nodded against his chest, a small, helpless movement.
Mateo glanced toward the kitchen, toward the clock again, then back to Hudson. "I'm gonna assume," he said gently, "this has something to do with your mysterious date last night."
Hudson let out a shaky laugh that turned into another sob. He nodded again.
Mateo winced. "Hudson, did he..." he hesitated before resuming. "Did he hurt you?"
Hudson pulled back just enough to shake his head. His eyes were red, lashes clumped, face blotchy and exhausted.
"No," Hudson said hoarsely. "Not like that."
Mateo studied him for a second, then nodded as if that confirmed something. "Okay." He shifted, still holding Hudson. "Because if you want, I know some guys. Strong thighs. Questionable morals. They could kick the shit out of him."
Hudson huffed weakly. "Don't."
"I'm serious," Mateo insisted. "I'd outsource violence for one of my friends."
That finally got a real laugh out of Hudson, small but it was there. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand.
Mateo relaxed a fraction, relief flickering across his face. "There he is." He squeezed Hudson once more, firm and grounding. "Listen to me. You're gonna shower. Let the water do the crying." He pulled back just enough to look at him. "I'll drive you to work."
Hudson opened his mouth.
Mateo pointed a finger at him. "Once your shift's over, text me. I'll pick you up. We'll come home. We'll watch something dumb. Or gay. Preferably both. Eat junk food and forget about 'men' problems. Okay?"
Hudson stared at him for a moment, then nodded. The world felt too big to fight kindness.
"Okay," he whispered.
Mateo smiled softly. "Good."
Hudson dragged himself off the couch and toward the bathroom. He turned the shower on, the sound of rushing water filling the apartment.
Mateo exhaled and leaned back against the counter, rubbing his face once.
That's when Hudson's phone buzzed. Mateo glanced down reflexively at the lit screen.
PLUTO.
Mateo blinked.
It buzzed again.
Mateo frowned, then picked it up, reading the name like it might explain itself if he stared long enough. He walked to the bathroom door and knocked lightly.
"Uh," Mateo said. "Hudson?"
The water muffled his voice, but Hudson answered anyway. "Yeah?"
"There's a...PLUTO calling you."
There was a pause on the other side of the door.
Mateo could hear the water, the movement, Hudson's hands brushing shampoo through his hair, the sound of it rinsing away.
Hudson didn't answer.
The phone buzzed again in Mateo's hand.
Mateo leaned against the doorframe and called through. "Who's PLUTO?"
Inside the shower, Hudson stood still for half a second. Then the water shifted again.
And that's when his voice finally came through.
Quietly, evenly, like he was practicing the lie until it fit.
"He's...nobody."
(To be continued...)
Hudson and Liam’s story doesn’t end here. If you’re reading along, I’d love to hear from you.
Leave a comment with your thoughts, feedback, and your favorite moment. Your feedback is appreciated.
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