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.
"The Sweet Escape"
"Okay," Mateo whispered, voice suddenly stripped of its usual theatrics. "Okay, so, um. We have...we have a lot of people."
Hudson sat on the edge of the bed.
Liam stood by the door, bare feet silent on the floor, every muscle in his body awake.
Mateo kept scanning.
"I see TMZ," he said, counting off with the same hand that held the blind slat. "I see...ugh...Daily Mail. That one with the weird logo. There's...hold on... there's like...real news camera."
Liam moved closer, not to the window, but to its side. His face didn't change, but his eyes did: focus tightening, the way a lock clicked into place.
"How many vehicles?" Liam asked, low.
Mateo blinked, startled by how calm Liam sounded. Then Mateo's own face shifted, like something in him rose to meet the seriousness. He leaned in, squinting.
"Two vans for sure," Mateo said. "One is definitely TMZ. The other one, could be a local station. There's also a black SUV. And..." he craned his neck, "... there's a guy on a scooter filming on his phone. Hate him already."
"How many people?" Liam pressed.
Mateo scanned again, eyes moving fast. "Maybe...fifteen? Twenty? Hard to tell because half of them are hiding behind cars like they're in the military, which is so dramatic..."
Liam cut in gently but firmly. "Mateo. Focus."
Mateo swallowed. "Right. Sorry. Focus." He took a breath and recalibrated, like he'd just switched into a different version of himself. "Okay. Twenty-ish," he said, more precise. "But only...maybe ten with real cameras. The rest are phones or backup."
Liam nodded once, already building a map in his head.
"Where are they clustered?" Liam asked.
Mateo pointed through the blinds without thinking, then realized pointing could be visible and pulled his hand back. "Front entrance," he said. "Both sides of the sidewalk. They're aiming at our building. There's also...hold on...two guys further down near the corner. Like they're setting up a line of sight. And one guy across the street under that tree, pretending to be on a call."
Liam's jaw flexed. "Describe him."
Mateo squinted harder, like he was zooming with his eyeballs. "Baseball cap, gray hoodie, camera strap. He's got...yeah, he's got a DSLR, but he's not holding it up like the others. He's watching. Waiting."
Liam's expression didn't change, but something darker passed behind his eyes.
Mateo went on, "And he keeps looking at his phone like he's checking messages. He's not shouting like the rest. He's...quiet."
Liam exhaled once. "Stringer."
Hudson's head snapped up. "What?"
Liam didn't take his eyes off the window area, even though he still wasn't looking directly outside. "They sell raw footage fast," he said, voice tight and flat. "They don't care about quotes. They care about proof."
Mateo whispered, "That's exactly his vibe."
Liam turned slightly, scanning the apartment as if it were suddenly a chessboard. "Any drones?"
Mateo's brows shot up. "Drones?"
Liam's gaze flicked to him. "Look up. See if any are hovering."
Mateo leaned back and angled his head upward toward the slice of sky visible between buildings. "No drones," he said. "But..." he paused, listening, "...I do hear a helicopter."
Liam's face tightened. "How close?"
Mateo listened again, then shrugged. "Could be normal LA helicopter. Could be...not."
"Okay," Liam said, voice controlled. "We're going to treat it like it's not normal."
Hudson's voice cracked. "Liam…"
Liam finally looked at Hudson, brief, steady eye contact, and the tenderness flashed for half a second, like a hand placed on Hudson's shoulder. "I've got it," he said. Then he turned to Mateo again, all business. "I need you to do three things," Liam said.
Mateo's posture changed. He squared his shoulders as if he were suddenly wearing a headset. "Okay," Mateo whispered.
Liam held up a finger. "One: check the building lobby."
Mateo blinked. "Now?"
"Yes," Liam said. "But don't take the elevator. Stairs. If they're watching the front entrance, they'll watch the elevator for movement. Use the back stairwell. Peek through the lobby glass. Tell me if any of them got inside."
Mateo nodded immediately. "Okay."
Liam held up a second finger. "Two: check the fire escape access."
Mateo stared. "We have a fire escape?"
Hudson muttered, "We do?"
Liam didn't flinch. "Every building has one. Find it. Make sure nobody's on it. Make sure it's not visible from the street."
Mateo whispered, "This feels like a heist."
Liam's mouth twitched once, humorless. "It is."
Mateo nodded again, fully locked in now.
Liam raised a third finger. "Three: find me something to cover the windows."
Mateo's eyes darted around the room. "Curtains?"
Hudson pointed weakly. "We don't..."
Mateo snapped his fingers. "Blanket."
Liam nodded. "Anything. If a lens catches movement inside, they'll start guessing. Guessing becomes calling. Calling means more vans."
Mateo was already moving, silent and fast. He grabbed a dark throw blanket from the couch, then paused and grabbed another one for good measure.
"Okay," Mateo whispered, voice half excited, half terrified. "Blanket mission. Got it."
Liam stepped toward the bedroom door, lowering his voice. "Hudson. Stay away from windows. Don't answer your phone if it rings. If you get texts, don't open them."
Hudson swallowed, nodding.
"Wait," Mateo whispered. "What about the back alley? Like, behind the building. I took the trash out there. It's quieter."
Liam's eyes sharpened slightly. "Is there camera coverage back there?"
Mateo thought fast. "No. Not that I've seen. There's a container area, and there's a narrow lane that leads to the side street. If you walk two blocks, you can hit a different intersection."
Liam nodded slowly, already adjusting his plan. "Good."
Mateo added, "Also, there's a maintenance gate near the container. Sometimes it's locked but sometimes it's open. It connects to the parking area."
Liam's gaze held Mateo's, assessing. "How are you this competent right now?" he asked.
Mateo shrugged, eyes wide and intense. "I'm a power bottom, not a liability."
Hudson let out a strangled laugh.
Even Liam's mouth curved, just slightly. "Okay," Liam said, voice returning to steel. "Blanket the window. Then stairs. Report back."
Mateo saluted, actually saluted. Liam stopped him with a look. Mateo instantly corrected himself, whispering, "Sorry. Yes, sir."
Liam shook his head once. "No 'sir'. Just...go."
Mateo disappeared into the hallway with the blankets and his newfound tactical competence.
The moment he did, Hudson's breath started coming in sharper, shallow pulls, as if his lungs had forgotten how to do anything else. He stood near the bed, half-dressed, hair a mess, eyes fixed on the blinds like they could suddenly burst open and swallow them whole.
Liam crossed the room without hurry. That was the terrifying part.
No flailing.
No swearing.
No frantic pacing.
Hudson watched that calm and felt panic spike harder, because if Liam could look like that, it meant he'd done this too many times. It meant this was standard. It meant the wolves had teeth and Liam knew exactly how they bit.
Liam reached Hudson and slid his hands up Hudson's arms, grounding him, and pulled him in. Hudson went willingly, like his body had been waiting for permission to fall apart.
Their foreheads touched.
Breath to breath.
Liam's mouth hovered close enough that Hudson could feel every word before it became sound. "Hey," Liam whispered, the simplest thing.
Hudson let out a shaky laugh that sounded like it hurt. "Hey."
Liam's thumbs moved gently over Hudson's ribs. "Look at me." Hudson's eyes lifted. Liam's gaze was steady, unwavering. The world could scream outside. Liam's eyes didn't flinch. "I love you," Liam whispered, the words pressed into the space between their mouths.
Hudson's lips trembled. "I love you," he whispered back. But his following words tangled anyway. "But...if they see you here, if they figure it out, if this gets out..."
"They don't swarm a street like this for nothing. They're not here for 'maybe.' They're here for proof," Liam said.
Hudson's eyes darted to the window. The blinds looked innocent. The street beyond them was not. Liam's gaze softened for a second. He lifted one hand to Hudson's cheek, trying to brush away his panic, witnessing what lay underneath. Anger, the kind that finally showed up when you realized you'd been cornered by someone else's cruelty.
Hudson swallowed. "Why did she do this?" Hudson whispered. "It doesn't..." his voice cracked, and he forced it steady, "...it doesn't make sense."
Liam's expression shifted, hardened into something almost amused, but the amusement had teeth. There was a kind of weary knowledge in it, a sarcasm so practiced it had become armor. "It makes perfect sense," Liam murmured.
Hudson frowned. "How?"
Liam's mouth twitched. "She's testing me," he said.
Hudson blinked. "Testing you?"
Liam nodded once. "She's bullying me back into line," he said calmly. "She wants me to fold. To come crawling back." Hudson stared at him, stunned by the cold clarity of it. Liam's gaze flicked toward the ceiling, as if he could see the street through the floors. "Marina...she knows how to turn the volume up," he said. "She also knows how to turn it down."
Hudson's eyebrows knit. "You mean she can...make it go away?"
Liam's smile sharpened, small and bitter. "Yes," he said. "A phone call. A favor. A trade. A threat. A little money slid into the right pocket. Something else for them to chew on."
Hudson's chest rose with a shaky breath, anger blooming hotter now. He looked at Liam, then at the window again, and something in him snapped, some last shred of politeness toward the idea of Marina as a person.
He whispered, with absolute sincerity and a kind of adorable, righteous venom, "She's a fucking cunt."
For the first time since the street had erupted, Liam laughed. It wasn't loud. Just a soft, startled burst. His forehead dipped toward Hudson's, and he kissed Hudson quickly, warm and grateful.
"You're not wrong," Liam murmured, mouth still brushing Hudson's. Hudson's eyes stayed wide, still furious. Then he pulled back just enough to meet Hudson's eyes. "But I've been playing this game with her for years," Liam said quietly. There was no drama in it, just exhaustion, and the faintest hint of shame. "And I've always let her win."
Hudson's heart tightened. "Why?"
Liam's gaze flickered away for a beat, something old and complicated moving behind his eyes. Then he looked back. "I suppose...it was easier," he admitted. "Letting her win meant I stayed employed. It meant my mother got taken care of. It meant I didn't..." He stopped himself, jaw tightening, the details swallowed back behind the guardrails.
Hudson didn't push, the empathy in his eyes making Liam's throat work like he was fighting something.
Liam exhaled. "I don't know...maybe I felt...I didn't have anything worth fighting her over." Hudson's breath caught. Liam's eyes dropped to Hudson's mouth, then lifted again, fierce and tender all at once. "Until now."
Hudson's lips parted, but no sound came.
Liam's hand slid to the back of Hudson's neck, thumb resting there like an anchor. Then he exhaled, slow, like he was forcing himself to say something homely and necessary. "Hudson, listen to me. You can't go back to the restaurant," Liam said.
Hudson's eyes widened, confused and defensive. "What are you talking about? It's my job..."
"They'll be there," Liam said, flat. "They'll sit in the cage. They'll tip staff. They'll bribe Elliot. They'll follow you to your bus stop. They'll camp outside the back entrance. They'll take photos of you throwing trash away and sell them like it's evidence."
Hudson's mouth opened, but no words came.
Liam's voice stayed even, terrifyingly pragmatic. "They'll call your coworkers. They'll call your landlord. They'll find your high school yearbook photo. They'll dig until they find something."
Liam stared at Hudson for a beat, and Hudson saw it, the moment Liam truly registered it, not as a concept but as a consequence: his world had crossed a line. It wasn't only eating him anymore. It was reaching for Hudson too.
Hudson blinked fast. "What are you saying?"
Liam's thumbs moved once along Hudson's jaw, a gentle motion that didn't match the ruthless clarity of his words. "I'm saying they'll make your life a living hell until you break," Liam said. "Until you say something. Until you slip. Until you get tired and you want it to stop and you trade them a piece of truth just to buy peace."
Hudson stared at him, stunned. "I wouldn't."
Liam's gaze held his, unwavering. "You might not mean to," he said quietly. "That's the point."
Hudson's stomach turned. He imagined it, the restaurant, Elliot's smirk, customers asking questions, cameras waiting outside his bus stop, strangers yelling his name like it belonged to them. He imagined his tiny life becoming public property, chewed up for content.
Hudson's voice cracked. "So what...what the fuck do we do?"
Liam's face stayed composed, but his eyes shone. "We leave," he said.
Hudson's heart stuttered. "Leave where?"
Liam didn't answer immediately. He looked at Hudson like he was trying to take him in, memorize him in case the next minutes went wrong. "Two weeks," he said. "Just two. Europe. We get the fuck out of dodge. Let the noise burn itself out."
Hudson stared at him like he'd just suggested they jump off the roof.
"Liam..." Hudson started, but Liam cut in gently, firm.
"I have a house in Milan," Liam said, like that was the most casual thing in the world. Then, because he was still Liam, because he couldn't help himself, his mouth twitched. "Luckily for us, Europeans don't give a shit about Americans." Hudson's eyes widened despite himself. "Especially if they're actors," he said, seriousness threaded with humor.
Mateo, who'd since walked back in from is scouting mission, made a slight noise behind them, half laugh, half disbelief.
Hudson's voice shook. "You can't just..."
"I've done it before," Liam said softly. "I just...never did it for the right reasons."
Hudson's chest rose and fell. His mind was racing: the restaurant, the rent, the bus, his entire life in a backpack. The weight of what Liam was offering pressed against his ribs like a hand.
Liam's thumb brushed Hudson's knuckles, grounding him. "Look," he murmured. "This feels loud right now because they think they're about to catch something."
Hudson swallowed. "They might."
Liam shook his head once. "Not if we don't feed it," he said. "They'll tire. They always do. Trust me. They'll move on to the next fire. We just have to give them time to get bored."
Hudson's gaze flicked to the window again, the blinds suddenly feeling like thin skin over a wound.
Liam's voice remained calm but held a fierce tenderness. "Two weeks gives us room to breathe," Liam said.
Hudson's eyes burned. "And if they follow us?"
"They won't," Liam said, confident in the way only experience could make you. "Not like this. Not once we're off their grid. Milan isn't..." he paused, then smirked faintly, "...Milan isn't West Hollywood."
Hudson's mouth opened, then closed. His hands tightened around Liam's.
Liam leaned closer, speaking into Hudson's mouth like a secret. "Say yes."
Hudson's breath trembled. "Jesus Christ, Liam... you're asking me to leave everything."
Liam's expression softened, guilt flickering, then determination. "They're waiting," he said simply. "If I walk out that front door, it's over. They win. She wins."
Mateo cleared his throat.
Both Hudson and Liam turned.
Mateo held up a finger slowly, like a student in class who had just remembered something crucial. "Well...I might have an idea," Mateo said.
He walked briskly into the kitchenette, grabbed his phone off the counter, and started typing with both thumbs so fast it sounded like rain.
Hudson stared at him. "Teo…"
Mateo held up one finger without looking up. "Give me thirty seconds. I'm saving your boyfriend's life."
Hudson made a strangled sound somewhere between panic and laughter. Liam's mouth twitched, the faintest sign of amusement slipping through the ice of his professionalism.
Mateo resumed typing. "Okay, so. I have...a resource."
Hudson's brows knitted. "A resource."
Mateo nodded, eyes glued to his screen. "A human resource."
Liam folded his arms, assessing. "Who?"
Mateo hesitated, just a fraction, then grinned like a sinner in church. "His name is Alex."
Hudson blinked. "Alex who?"
Mateo waved a dismissive hand. "Alex...hot. Alex 'don't ask questions'. Alex 'shows up when I say please'." Hudson's eyes widened as the implication hit. Mateo gave Hudson a look that said don't shame me in a crisis.
Liam's eyes narrowed slightly. "And Alex is...what, exactly?"
Mateo finally looked up fully, a little proud. "A decoy."
Hudson stared. "A decoy?"
Mateo nodded. "Yes. A decoy. Like in the movies. Which is kinda funny because..." he flicked his eyes to Liam.
Liam's expression stayed controlled, but his curiosity sharpened. "How does your decoy help?"
Mateo lifted his phone like he was presenting evidence in court. "Because Alex is, by the grace of God, genetics, and a very consistent gym routine, your size. Your height. Your build."
Hudson frowned harder. "Teo..."
Mateo steamrolled. "He can also do the hair. The little...swoopy thing." He mimicked Liam's effortless mess with his hand and then grimaced. "Okay, it won't be perfect, because Alex is not...you."
Liam's brow rose. "I'm flattered."
Mateo nodded solemnly. "But from twenty feet away through a hundred camera lenses? In your overpriced club clothes? In chaos? It's enough."
Hudson's heart knocked against his ribs. "Wait. You're saying..."
Mateo pointed at the bedroom door, then at the window, then made a swooping motion like a bird. "We stage a decoy exit. They swarm him. They get their footage. They scream. They run. And while the street is losing its shit over 'Liam Hart leaving the building,' you and Mr. Hart here..."
Liam corrected automatically, "Just Liam."
Mateo ignored him. "...you two slip out the back. I checked. It's not visible from the front. We walk two blocks, you get in an Uber, and you disappear into your rich-boy Italian villa like a tragic European gay prince."
Hudson's mouth parted. "That's...insane."
Mateo's eyes sparkled. "Thank you."
Liam watched Mateo for a beat, something like reluctant respect creeping into his gaze. "How do you get Alex here without them noticing?"
Mateo's thumbs resumed flying. "Because Alex doesn't come through the front like a dumbass. Alex knows the back gate by the trash because Alex is a...regular who has had to sneak into and out of this building several times for...personal reasons."
Hudson's face went hot. "Oh. That Alex."
Mateo looked up, deadpan. "Hudson, let me be a slut in peace."
Liam's mouth finally curved, a small, genuine smile. It was brief, almost startling on his face in this context, but it was there.
Then Liam's gaze sharpened again. "What if they get too close?"
Mateo nodded as if he'd already anticipated the question. "They might," he admitted. "But the point isn't to fool them forever. The point is to buy you ten minutes."
Hudson's throat tightened. "And Alex just...agrees?"
Mateo glanced at his phone, lips pursed. "Alex loves attention. He's an aspiring actor. Also…” He paused, then added with airy sincerity, "Alex owes me. So our secret is safe with him."
Hudson squinted. "Owes you?"
Mateo shrugged. "Yes. I've given him emotional support and amazing oral..."
Liam coughed once, a laugh trapped in it. "Okay."
Mateo grinned and held up his phone. He typed with theatrical focus, mouthing the words as he wrote them, then hit send with the satisfaction of a man lighting a fuse.
MATEO: You want a story? Put on a hoodie and become a myth for ten minutes.
Mateo added another message immediately, his thumbs moving like he was conducting an orchestra.
MATEO: Back alley. In ten. Bring your best 'don't perceive me' face.
He paused, eyes flicking between Hudson and Liam, then added.
MATEO: Also, do NOT speak. At all.
Mateo finally looked up, expression innocent. "Perfect."
Liam stared at him for a long second. Then, with quiet disbelief and a hint of admiration, he said, "You're...very resourceful."
Mateo nodded proudly. "I know." His phone buzzed almost immediately. Mateo glanced down, then grinned like the devil himself had texted back. "Okay," he whispered, eyes bright. "He's in."
Hudson's stomach dropped and flipped at the same time.
Mateo lifted his head, suddenly all business again. "Showtime," he said.
Seven long minutes later, the knock came.
Fast, two sharp taps, then a third.
Mateo's whole body snapped into motion. He padded to the door like a burglar with house keys. He cracked the door open a sliver. A hand shot through the gap and shoved it wider. A man slipped inside with the smooth urgency of someone who'd learned how to move unseen, tall, lean-muscled, wearing a baseball cap low and a zip hoodie.
His eyes were bright with mischief even as he whispered, "Okay, I'm here. I'm here. No one saw me, I think, unless your neighbor's cat is a narc."
Mateo grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked him fully into the apartment, shutting the door with surgical care. "Are you sure?" Mateo hissed.
The man, Alex, grinned, unfazed. "Yeah," he said. "But also...why are you whispering? Is this like..." his eyes swept the room with the confidence of someone walking into a hookup, "...a game?"
Mateo's gaze flicked to the blinds, then to Alex, then back to the blinds again. "Not that kind."
Alex's grin only widened. "Oh, so it's serious."
Mateo stared. "Alex..."
Alex held up a hand. "Okay, okay. Let me set the mood." He made a show of rolling his shoulders like he was warming up for a performance. "What are we doing? 'Strangers at the motel'? 'Boss and intern'? 'Two best friends who swear they're straight but can't stop making eye contact'?"
Hudson made a noise that was half cough, half strangled laugh.
Alex's head snapped toward Hudson for the first time, eyes lighting up. "Oh!" he said, delighted. "A third. Okay. Love this."
Hudson's eyes widened. "No..."
Alex pointed at Hudson like he'd just solved a puzzle. "Cute. Hi. I'm Alex."
Mateo grabbed Alex's chin gently and turned his face back toward him like he was redirecting a toddler. "Alex."
Alex blinked. "What?"
Mateo whispered, "This is not a fucking threesome."
Alex's expression faltered, then shifted into intrigued confusion. "Then why is there...?"
Hudson opened his mouth to answer, and then Alex's gaze drifted past Hudson, toward the bedroom doorway.
Toward Liam.
Even in Hudson's tiny apartment, he looked like someone who came with a spotlight attached. Alex stared. He didn't gasp. He didn't flail. He stared for a long, slow moment, as if his brain needed time to load the file. His mouth parted slightly. He blinked once.
Then, in a low voice, Alex whispered, "No."
Mateo whispered back, "Yes."
Alex's eyes widened further. "No."
Mateo's voice turned flat. "Alex."
Alex looked at Liam.
Then at Mateo.
Then at Hudson.
Then back at Liam.
His face followed the same staged progression Mateo had done the night before, but Alex's was more theatrical. Recognition. Shock. Awe. Existential dread.
Then, with a hoarse whisper, Alex breathed, "You gotta be fucking kidding me."
Liam lifted a hand slightly, a quiet acknowledgment that somehow made the situation even more surreal.
Alex's knees looked like they might buckle. "I..." He pointed at Liam, finger trembling. "You're...you're you."
Mateo clapped Alex lightly on the cheek. "Welcome to the crisis."
Alex swallowed, still staring at Liam. "What the fuck..."
Mateo cut him off. "Strip."
Silence.
Hudson made a small choking sound.
Alex's head snapped back to Mateo. "Excuse me?"
Mateo repeated, louder, like he was speaking to someone with bad reception. "Strip. Clothes. Now."
Alex's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, so it is kinky."
Mateo hissed, rolling his eyes. "Different genre."
Alex looked wildly between the three of them. "I...am I being punked?"
Liam spoke for the first time, voice calm and firm. "He's not joking."
Alex stared at Liam again, as if being ordered to undress in front of Liam Hart had short-circuited his entire nervous system. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay. Sure. Great. Cool. Normal day."
Mateo snapped his fingers. "Move."
Alex started tugging his hoodie off, still muttering, "This is crazy. Babe, if this ends with me dead in a ditch, I swear to God..."
"Less talking," Mateo said, "more pants off."
Alex obeyed, revealing a tank top under the hoodie that clung to his chest in a way that suggested he'd been grown in a lab explicitly designed to ruin people's concentration.
Mateo immediately fanned himself with his phone. "Jesus Christ."
Alex smirked.
Mateo's gaze slid to Liam, who had already started stripping too, pulling his t-shirt off in one smooth motion. He didn't do it like a tease. But the effect was unfair, nevertheless.
Mateo made a soft, reverent sound. "Two hot men stripping at the same time in my kitchen? This is the gayest emergency evacuation if there ever was one." Liam's eyes flicked up, amused despite himself. Mateo pressed his hand to his chest as if Liam had spoken his name in prayer. "I'm coping."
Alex tugged his tank top over his head, muscles shifting under skin with an ease that made Hudson's brain short-circuit for a second. Mateo practically whimpered.
"I need you to know," Mateo said urgently, "that if I die right now, it's because I was overstimulated."
Hudson laughed through the nerves, sharp and shaky. "Focus."
"I am," Mateo insisted, eyes wide. "On my will to live."
Liam pulled his jeans down next, stepping out of them. Mateo's eyes darted away on instinct, then snapped back like he couldn't help it. Liam's body was a shock, athletic, sculpted, the kind of beautiful that looked effortless.
"Oh," Mateo breathed, voice dropping. "Fuck, you're built."
Liam didn't even look embarrassed. He just reached for Alex's sweatpants.
Alex whistled under his breath. "Okay," he muttered. "This is really happening."
Mateo pointed at Alex's torso. "You're one to talk, shaped like a Greek statue. It's actually rude."
Alex grinned, unbothered. "You've seen me naked."
Mateo's eyes rolled back. "Yes, hence why you're still allowed to sneak into my apartment."
Alex stepped out of his shoes, then bent to peel off his socks with an exaggerated slowness like he was auditioning for a strip club. Mateo threw his head back with a groan. "Alex," Mateo hissed, "if you start doing JLo's Hustlers strip choreo, I will fucking push you into the blender."
Alex laughed. "Relax."
Liam moved to Hudson's bedroom and returned with last night's outfit, folded neatly, dark, sleek, absurdly expensive. He handed it over to Alex, who couldn't help but peek at the label inside the pants.
Alex's eyes widened. "Oh shit. This is...Tom Ford..."
"Put it on," Liam said.
Liam pulled Alex's hoodie over his head, then followed with the sweatpants. The outfit on Liam looked almost comical in its simplicity, like the world's most famous man had dressed down to become invisible. Yet somehow he still looked like a wolf in a cheap costume.
Alex, meanwhile, slid into Liam's clothes, and it was startling how quickly the illusion formed. The expensive jacket sharpened his silhouette. The fitted pants changed his posture. The outfit didn't just clothe him. It gave him presence.
Mateo stepped back, squinting dramatically. "Okay," he said, circling Alex like a critic. "You're...like the off-brand. Temu Liam. But you're...premium Temu."
Alex scoffed. "Fucking rude."
Mateo shrugged. "In this economy? It'll do." He took one last look at both men and sighed, dreamy. "Two hot guys, one apocalypse," he murmured. "Honestly? This is why I moved to LA."
Hudson looked at Liam and shrugged.
"Okay," Mateo said, "here's what's going to happen. Alex..." he jabbed a finger toward Alex, who was now looking equal parts thrilled and terrified, "...you are going to become...an idea."
Alex blinked. "What?"
Mateo nodded. "A blur. A sexy shadow."
Alex's eyes lit up. "Sexy shadow..."
Mateo cut him off. "Actually, scratch that. A quiet shadow."
Liam leaned against the wall, arms folded, eyes sharp, the calmest person in the room.
Mateo continued, "You walk out the front."
Liam's voice cut in, low and precise. "Not like you own it. Like you're fleeing it. Head down, glasses on, face covered."
Alex lifted the hood higher, nodding solemnly. "I can do mysterious."
Mateo glared. "You should do fast."
Liam added, "Don't stop. Don't turn around. If you hesitate, they'll zoom in and start comparing ears."
Alex's eyes widened. "Ears?"
Liam nodded once. "They're like sharks. They notice everything."
Mateo's mouth twisted. "Okay, that's terrifying. Great. So: sprint to my car."
Alex squinted. "You have a car?"
Mateo rolled his eyes. "Yes, bitch. I have a car. Not everyone in West Hollywood Uber's like they're royalty."
Hudson huffed a laugh from the bedroom doorway, then immediately sobered again.
Mateo pointed toward the front entrance with his whole arm. "You run out, you dive into my car, and you drive. You keep driving until you're, like...in another zip code."
Alex raised a hand. "I'm allowed to drive your car?"
Mateo stared at him. "Alex, I once let you borrow my favorite lube. Yes, you can borrow my car for ten minutes."
Hudson made a strangled sound. Liam coughed once, amused.
Mateo pointed at Liam and Hudson now. "Meanwhile, the real you..." he nodded at Liam, "and Arizona..." he nodded at Hudson, "go out the back. You cut left at the corner, two blocks, then you get into whatever vehicle Liam summons with his rich-boy powers."
Liam's gaze flicked to Mateo. "I already called my driver. He'll be at the side street in eight minutes."
Mateo nodded, impressed. "See? Rich-boy powers."
Alex swallowed hard, eyes darting around. "And...what if they chase me?"
Mateo tilted his head. "They will." Alex's face drained of color. Mateo stepped closer, lowering his voice, suddenly sincere beneath the chaos. "Alex, listen. They're not chasing you. They're chasing him. You're going to be fine."
Liam spoke again. "If they surround the car, don't roll down the window. Don't speak. Don't get out. Keep moving."
Alex nodded, swallowing. "Okay. Okay. Silent film. Sexy mime."
Mateo glared. "Stop saying sexy."
Alex mouthed, 'sorry'.
Hudson retreated into the bedroom like a man being chased by his own adrenaline. The second he stepped inside, he spotted his backpack hanging on a chair and lunged for it. He yanked a drawer open and started shoving things in, with the frantic efficiency of someone packing for a hurricane evacuation. A pair of jeans. A clean t-shirt. Socks. His toothbrush, because he was apparently the kind of person who had a moral code about dental hygiene even during a catastrophe.
Liam followed him, silent as a shadow. He leaned on the doorframe, watching Hudson with an expression that was equal parts amusement and awe. "What are you doing?"
Hudson didn't look up. "Packing."
Liam blinked. "For what?"
Hudson shoved deodorant into the bag. "For...Europe?"
Liam's mouth twitched. "We're leaving for two weeks, not moving to another planet."
Hudson whirled, exasperated. "I've never packed to go abroad before!"
Liam paused, something soft blooming behind his eyes.
Hudson froze mid-breath, suddenly realizing something as he looked at Liam standing there in the cramped doorway, absurdly calm. He narrowed his eyes. "Wait." Liam's brow lifted. Hudson pointed at him with the toothbrush. "You've...never packed before either, have you?"
Liam stared at him for a beat. Then, slowly, he shook his head once. "No," Liam admitted.
Hudson's mouth fell open. "How have you..."
"Other people usually do it for me," Liam said. "Don't worry. We'll go shopping once we get there," he added.
Hudson stared at him, then let out a stunned laugh that sounded slightly hysterical. Liam just watched him, smiling like Hudson was the best thing he'd ever seen.
Hudson paused, caught by the expression. "Why are you smiling?"
Liam's eyes flicked over Hudson's face, cheeks flushed, hands full of socks and toothpaste and frantic love, and something in Liam's gaze cracked open, tender and bright. "I don't know," Liam said quietly, "I'm just...happy."
Hudson's throat tightened. He shook his head, laughing again because the alternative was crying. "Happy? Liam, this is…by far the craziest shit I've ever done."
Liam stepped forward. In one smooth motion, he snagged Hudson by the waist and pulled him in close, like the world outside didn't exist, like the noise and the cameras couldn't touch them if he held Hudson hard enough.
Hudson's hands fisted in Liam's shirt. "Liam..."
Liam kissed him.
Hudson melted into it, his fear and love tangling until he couldn't separate them. He kissed Liam back. When they broke apart, Hudson was breathless. Liam rested his forehead against Hudson's, smiling with that dangerous softness again.
Then, a knock.
Mateo's voice came through the door like a siren. "I hate to break your bubble, but...it's showtime."
*
Alex did not walk out of the building.
Alex launched.
The front door cracked open and, for half a second, the swarm's attention sharpened, the collective animal instinct of lenses and hunger snapping toward motion.
Then Alex burst into daylight like he'd been fired from a cannon.
Glasses on. Head down. One forearm raised across the lower half of his face. The suit hung just right, the silhouette familiar enough to trigger a chain reaction in the street. A shout went up, one voice, then another, then a dozen at once, names, questions, insults disguised as curiosity.
"LIAM!"
"LOOK HERE!"
"OVER HERE!"
The cameras erupted into frantic clicking, shutters firing like hail. Someone bumped a tripod. Someone nearly fell off the curb. The whole street surged as if pulled by a magnet.
Alex sprinted straight for Mateo's car, a sad little sedan parked a few steps down like it had no business being in a situation this expensive. He yanked the door open and dove in. And because Alex was, at his core, a creature with a flair for the dramatic, he made one fatal, stupid choice: he paused long enough to slam the door with cinematic force.
The swarm took that as confirmation.
They lunged.
Alex's hands shook on the steering wheel. He fumbled the keys, missed the ignition once, then got it. The engine coughed, then roared awake. A photographer slapped a palm onto the hood. Another tried to get an angle through the windshield. Alex did exactly what Liam had said: no window, no words, no acknowledgement. He just drove.
Hard.
The sedan lurched forward. The hand slid off the hood. Shouts spiked into something sharper, angered now, because prey had dared to move. And then the street became chaos. Paparazzi sprinted alongside the car, half-running, half-stumbling. A scooter guy swerved into the lane.
Someone shouted into a phone, "He's moving, he's moving...!"
Alex turned the wheel and shot down the street, forcing the pack to choose between chasing on foot or scrambling to vehicles. They chose vehicles. Doors flew open. Engines started. Vans lurched into motion. A line of headlights appeared in his rearview mirror. Alex's heart hammered so loudly he could barely hearanything as he crossed an intersection. He drove fast but not recklessly, making sharp turns and quick lane changes, keeping the car moving.
In the rearview, the swarm stretched and scattered, splitting to keep up, trying to anticipate where the "star" would go. And for ten precious minutes, Alex became exactly what Mateo promised: A myth. A decoy with a pulse.
And while the street convulsed with motion and engines, the back of Hudson's building stayed quiet. The kind of quiet that came from people not thinking to look.
Mateo moved first, cracking the back door like he'd done this a thousand times, peering out into the service lane behind the trash container.
Mateo glanced left. Right. Then he jerked his head. "Now."
Hudson stepped out with his backpack tight on his shoulders, breath caught in his throat. Liam followed, shoulders squared. They didn't run at first. Running drew attention. They walked fast, heads down, bodies close to the wall. Mateo led with quick, silent confidence, pointing once: a narrow passage that opened toward a quieter side street.
They made it to the corner.
Mateo stopped them for half a second, hand splayed out like a stop sign. He listened, distant shouting from the front, engines accelerating, a crescendo that was moving away.
Mateo nodded once. "Okay."
Hudson's nerves couldn't take the stillness. He turned suddenly and grabbed Mateo. It wasn't staged. It was just Hudson, warm and shaking, wrapping his arms around his friend like he needed to prove the world still had solid things in it.
Mateo froze.
Then his arms came up, awkward at first, then tight.
Hudson's voice was muffled against Mateo's shoulder. "Thanks, Teo."
Mateo's throat bobbed. He tried for humor and failed on the first attempt. "Yeah," he managed, voice cracking slightly. "I mean...you're welcome."
Hudson pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes wet and fierce. "I love you."
Mateo blinked fast, then flicked his gaze away like he couldn't handle sincerity in direct sunlight. "Okay, okay...don't get all emotional. You'll ruin my brand."
Liam stepped closer. "You're a good friend," Liam said quietly.
Mateo's face did something complicated. His ears reddened. His mouth opened, then closed. He looked like he'd been complimented by a god and didn't know where to file the experience.
Finally, he scoffed, eyes darting away. "Yeah, well," he muttered, "I'm an Aries. Fearless and extremely hot under pressure."
Hudson let out a shaky laugh.
Liam's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "I can see that."
Mateo pointed at them both, immediately regaining his footing. "Go! Before I actually start caring." Then, he nodded sharply. "Two blocks. Left at the stop sign."
Liam held Mateo's gaze for a beat, then gave a small, sincere nod back.
Then Liam took Hudson's hand, and they moved.
They walked fast, then faster.
The side street opened into a wider intersection where a single car waited. The door popped open before Liam even reached it.
"Mr. Hart," Daniel said, voice low.
Hudson didn't have time to process the relief. Liam shoved him gently into the backseat first, then slid in beside him, their shoulders colliding. The driver closed the door quickly and pulled away from the curb the moment Liam was inside.
For one breathless second, it felt like it worked.
Then Liam's gaze flicked to the rearview mirror.
Hudson followed it.
And his stomach dropped.
Across the intersection behind them, a lone photographer stood under the shade of a tree, the quiet one. The stringer.
He hadn't chased the decoy.
He'd waited.
He lifted his camera and snapped once, twice, clean shots through the windshield, the angle catching Liam's profile and Hudson beside him. Then the stringer lowered the camera and pulled out his phone. Hudson's blood went cold. The car accelerated, but the damage was already done. In the mirror, Hudson saw the stringer turn slightly away from the street noise, thumb tapping, posture calm as if this was a business call.
He lifted the phone to his ear. Hudson couldn't hear the person on the other end, but he saw the stringer's mouth move.
He nodded once, then again, eyes tracking the car as it vanished into traffic. "Yeah," the stringer said. "They left through the back. Like you said." He listened, then smiled faintly, thin and satisfied. "Mm-hm. I got the shot," he added. Another nod. "And I already sent scouts after the car."
*
The city blurred beyond the tinted glass like a film Liam had watched too many times. Hudson sat pressed close to him in the backseat, backpack strapped to his chest. Liam's hand remained on Hudson's knee, steady, unnervingly calm.
"Private terminal is compromised," Daniel said.
Liam didn't even hesitate. "Always is."
Hudson blinked. The ease of the exchange made his stomach tighten.
Daniel's eyes caught Liam's in the mirror for a fraction. "LAX is chaos. Too many eyes."
"Agreed," Liam said, calm. "Burbank?"
Daniel nodded. "Smaller footprint. Less press density." A beat. "Still risky."
Liam exhaled.
Hudson finally found his voice, small and strained. "Can we...not go to an airport?"
Liam turned toward him, that controlled stillness softening for a moment. He reached up and tucked a strand of Hudson's hair behind his ear like they were alone. "Don't worry," Liam murmured. "It'll be fine."
Daniel's phone buzzed in the console. He didn't pick it up, but Liam's eyes flicked toward the sound.
Daniel's jaw tightened. "They tipped TMZ," he said quietly.
Liam let out a low breath through his nose, something like a laugh that had no humor in it. "She doesn't waste time."
Hudson stared at Liam. "She's already..."
"Already moving," Liam finished, eyes forward again. "Yeah."
Daniel turned off the main road into a route that felt deliberately forgettable, side streets, quick corners. A few minutes later, signs started appearing: BURBANK AIRPORT. Hudson looked down at Liam's hand on his knee. It was steady. His own hands shook.
"You okay?" Liam asked, voice low.
Hudson laughed once, breathless and bitter. "No."
Liam's thumb brushed Hudson's knee, grounding. "Good," he said. "Keeps you sharp," he added with a playful wink.
They pulled into the airport approach, and for a heartbeat, it looked normal. Cars. Families. People dragging suitcases. The mundane miracle of everyone minding their own business.
Then Daniel's shoulders tightened. "Fuck," Daniel said softly.
Hudson followed his gaze.
Cameras.
At first it was just one, a man leaning against a pillar in a parking structure, too still, too observant. Then Hudson noticed the second. The third. People on phones, heads turning too quickly, eyes locking onto their car like it had a spotlight strapped to the hood.
And then the first shout hit the air. "LIAM!"
It cut through the airport noise like a siren.
Hudson's blood went cold.
More voices joined, overlapping.
"Liam!"
"Over here!"
"Is that him?"
The sound was animal. Hungry. Excited. A pack recognizing something they'd been promised. Daniel didn't slow. He swung into the parking structure, tires whizzing over concrete.
Hudson's breath turned shallow. His name was safe in his own mouth. It had always been safe. Now he heard it used by strangers.
"Hudson!"
He froze.
He hadn't told anyone his name. Not publicly. Not to anyone who mattered.
And yet it came again, sharper this time, triumphant.
"HUDSON! HEY, HUDSON!"
Liam's hand clamped onto his, hard and immediate. Hudson looked down at their locked fingers.
Liam leaned in, mouth close to Hudson's ear, voice smooth. "Time to run, beautiful."
Daniel pulled into an angled stop behind a pillar like he'd done it a hundred times. He cut the engine.
"Two minutes," Daniel said. "Maybe less."
Liam was already moving. He grabbed a black, plain baseball cap from the seat and jammed it onto his head. He pulled the brim low. Then he reached into Hudson's backpack, yanked out the black hoodie. "Put it on," he instructed. Hudson obeyed without thinking, pulling the hoodie over his head. Liam's eyes flicked over him, a fast assessment, then softening. "Perfect," he murmured, like seeing Hudson in it again and it steadied him.
Daniel opened his door first, scanning. "Left side is clear," he said. "Right side has eyes."
Liam nodded once, then squeezed Hudson's hand. "Stay with me," Liam said.
Hudson's throat tightened. "Right."
They got out.
The moment Hudson's feet hit the concrete, the sound found them again. Footsteps echoed in the structure. Camera shutters. A voice shouting "That's him!"
Liam pulled Hudson close and they moved, fast, purposeful, bodies angled, hands locked. Hudson's hoodie bounced against his skin as they ran. Liam's hat brim shadowed his face. Their fingers stayed interlaced, not once breaking.
They cut through a service corridor Daniel pointed to, an employee stairwell door propped open just enough to slip through. The door slammed behind them. For a beat, the corridor was empty. They ran again. Up a stairwell. Out into the terminal. And suddenly the world was people.
Families.
Business travelers.
Teens with headphones.
A woman holding a latte the size of her forearm.
Hudson expected someone to scream immediately. But the terminal swallowed them for half a second, chaotic neutrality, the way crowds didn't register anything until it was too late.
Then someone's head snapped up.
"Oh my God..."
Hudson's stomach flipped.
They hit the security barrier.
The TSA line stretched ahead like a gauntlet. Metal stanchions. Signs. A wall of rules. Liam's jaw tightened. He was good at many things, but standing in line was not one of them. His world usually moved around barriers, not through them.
Hudson felt Liam's grip tighten.
The panic surged again, hot and choking.
This is where they catch us, his brain whispered.
But something else rose in him too, something he didn't usually let himself use. Not charm. Or jokes. But that quick social intelligence, survival skill disguised as politeness. Hudson scanned the line. He spotted a TSA agent near the front: older, tired eyes, bored posture. A person who'd seen every kind of traveler, every type of panic.
Hudson moved.
He pulled Liam a step sideways, still holding his hand, and approached the agent with a face that was both calm and sincere, the kind of face Hudson had perfected while working tables: 'I'm not trying to cause trouble, I'm trying to solve it'.
"Excuse me," Hudson said, voice warm, respectful. "Hi. I'm sorry to bother you. We have a flight that boards soon and..."
The agent's eyes lifted, ready to dismiss him.
Hudson smiled a little wider, gentle but urgent. "I know everyone says that. I do. I just..." he lowered his voice, "...there are people outside. Like...a lot of people. I don't want to cause a scene. Is there a way my friend and I can...get through quietly?"
The agent blinked. His gaze flicked to Liam's cap and hoodie, then to Hudson's anxious face.
Hudson didn't say Liam's name.
He didn't have to.
The agent sighed, like he'd just been handed another problem on a long shift. "What gate?"
Hudson's heart stuttered. "C...twelve."
The agent's eyes narrowed slightly, then he jerked his chin toward a side lane. "Go there. Shoes off. Don't make me regret it."
Hudson nodded fast. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
As they moved toward the lane, Liam murmured, "Who are you?"
Hudson's mouth twitched, breathless. "A waiter."
Liam's smile flashed. "Remind me to tip you."
Hudson snorted despite himself.
They moved through security, shoes off, belts out, bag on the belt, bodies sliding through the scanner. Hudson's hoodie bunched at his wrists. Liam's hat stayed low. And somehow, miraculously, they made it through.
On the other side, Hudson grabbed his backpack and turned, and Liam was already there, hand reaching for his.
Their fingers locked again.
They didn't stop.
They didn't look back.
They ran.
Through corridors. Past gate announcements and flight boards and travelers who turned their heads too late. Hudson's lungs burned. Liam's grip never loosened. Then, somewhere near a corner where the hallway widened and the windows showed planes sleeping on the tarmac, Hudson heard it.
Liam laughing.
A real, startled burst, like something in him had broken free. Hudson laughed too, breathless and disbelieving, the sound ripping out of him like a release. They were running, and laughing, and for a moment the chase became something else.
Not fear.
Not punishment.
A strange kind of freedom.
Liam escaping the machine that owned his name.
Hudson escaping the life that had taught him to run from feeling.
They were still running, yes.
But now, they were running together.
Hand in hand, refusing to let the world pry their fingers apart.
And even with the storm still out there, still hunting, still roaring, Hudson felt a clean, bright certainty settle in his chest.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't running away.
He was running toward something.
Toward a life that would be messy.
And dangerous.
And real.
And maybe, just maybe, worth it.
(To be continued...)
Hudson and Liam’s story doesn’t end here. If you’re reading along, I’d love to hear from you.
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