BAD BOYY [ 𝑀𝑀 ]

🍑 TWO 🍑

We're back in Moscow. Everything seems fine — perfect, even. So why does my chest feel so fucking tight?

I tell myself there's nothing to fear, but fear isn't the problem. Doubt is. That insidious voice in my head whispering, What if they're disgusted by you? What if you loose them? I know my friends wouldn't turn their backs on me for this. I know that. But logic means nothing when that voice keeps clawing at my thoughts.

Aurora's photoshoot gave us an excuse to celebrate, so we're eating outside. A perfect distraction. Mische and my baby boy don't have to cook tonight, which means they're free. And if he's free, that means he's mine.

I slip away unnoticed, my feet carrying me down the hall. My friends' rooms — Egor, Andrei, Oleg — line the same corridor as mine. But Maxim's? He's downstairs. Separate. Like temptation waiting in the dark.

I don't knock. I never do. I push the door open and step inside.

"Hey, baby"

He's curled in bed, fast asleep. It's early. Too early for him to be this deep under. Did something exhausted him today? My jaw clenches, my mind running through all the possibilities. But then I exhale, shake off the tension and lock the door behind me.

Slipping under his blankets, I press against his warmth.

"Baby", I murmur, but he doesn't stir.

Still, his body knows mine. Even in sleep, he reaches for me, burrowing into my chest like he belongs there. Like he always has.

And he does.

Tonight, I'll make sure of it.

I let my eyes close, my arms tightening around him. It's a strange feeling — this quiet, this stillness in my chest. I've had countless partners. All temporary. All fleeting. The second it felt like more than sex, I cut them loose. Because there was never anything to feel. Never any real connection. Just an aching, restless void I couldn't fill.

So I searched. Explored. Broke and ruined and tried again. And nothing.

Noting, until him.

Maxim.

The moment I met him, I knew. The missing piece, the invisible tether pulling me to him, the need to protect, to claim, to never let him leave.

My mother once told me I'd find someone one day — someone I couldn't live without, couldn't breathe without, couldn't think straight without. I never believed her.

But my heart? My fucking traitorous heart?

It tells me he's the one.

And deep down, I know.

He was born to be mine.

Just as I was born to be his.

"Yakow. . .", his whisper is barely audible, but it's enough to drag me from the depths of sleep.