The disco pulsed with vibrant energy, the bass thumping through the air and resonating in the chests of everyone on the dance floor. Strobe lights flickered wildly; colorful lasers sliced through the darkness. The DJ perched high above the crowd, creating an intoxicating atmosphere where time seemed to blur, and worries faded away. But Charlie was in a different space. He plunged into the heart of the throbbing disco, the relentless beat pounding like a hammer against his chest, but nothing could silence the words Alan had hurled at him. They tore through his mind, sharp and jagged, slicing deeper with every thought. His heart was a storm of rage and sorrow, a chaotic swirl he couldn't outrun. The music blared, but even at full blast, it couldn't drown out the ache inside. His body moved with wild abandon, not to enjoy the rhythm but to outrun the pain, as if each frantic step could erase the pain that coursed through him. His limbs flailed, desperate, untamed, his vision blurring with sweat and raw emotion. The lights were blinding, searing his eyes, yet offering no comfort. Charlie danced like a man possessed, as though tearing himself apart in motion could somehow make the agony stop. But no matter how hard he moved, how violently he threw himself into the music, Alan's words clung to him, haunting him in every shadow, in every beat.
Charlie wailed, his voice swallowed by the roaring music, but the grief tearing through him was deafening. His body shook as he tried to scream louder than the pounding bass, hoping to drown out the anguish, but it only clung tighter, suffocating him. Around him, people danced in blissful ignorance, laughing as if the world held no suffering, no darkness, but not for Charlie. His world had shattered, crushed beneath the weight of the truth he had learned about that night, the truth about Babe, his love, his husband, his everything, the truth leaving him hollow and broken. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, his chest heaving, his heart aching in ways he couldn't contain. He wanted it to stop—wanted it all to be a nightmare he could wake up from, to open his eyes and find Babe beside him, untouched by the horror. But the pain was real, cutting deeper with every breath, and no matter how hard he wished, there was no escape, no waking from this living nightmare. His mind tortured him with every excruciating detail Alan had revealed.
Warning:
This can be very triggering. There are scenes of sexual assault and abuse. So, if you are uncomfortable and triggered by such events, kindly refrain from reading. Thank you!
*Flashback**
That night, Babe was overjoyed. After years of effort, a few months back, he had finally earned the opportunity to work with the man whose work he had admired his entire life. Even more, that very man was impressed by Babe's talent, had praised him, and promised him a great future in his company. Babe was on cloud nine, filled with a sense of pride and accomplishment. The weight of all his struggles seemed to lift, leaving only pure, unfiltered happiness. All he wanted was to celebrate this moment, this long-awaited victory, so he, Alan, and a few more friends decided to head to an exclusive club. Being a fashion photographer in the showbiz industry himself, Babe preferred places like this, where the elite gathered. The club was a hotspot for celebrities, influential businessmen, and people with powerful connections. It was the perfect setting for someone like Babe, a night surrounded by those who moved in the same glamorous circles, making the celebration feel even more significant.
They were having a fantastic time, enjoying delicious food, refreshing drinks, and lively music. Laughter and conversation flowed freely as they celebrated Babe's achievements. Babe stood up to head to the restroom, swaying gently to the rhythm of the background music. As he was taking care of his business in the restroom, his mind replayed the day's events, and a wide grin spread across his face when suddenly he heard a voice call his name from behind. When he turned to identify the source of the voice, his breath caught in his throat. Standing behind him was none other than the man he had idolized for years: "Way Ponrawat." The sight of the renowned figure sent a rush of excitement through Babe, amplifying the joy of the moment beyond what he had ever imagined.
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I love u with all my Heart (A Short-Story)
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