From Frost to Flame

Chapter 6: The Weight of Heartache

After Kinn, Porsche, and Pete left, Vegas trudged toward the parking lot, feeling a familiar heaviness in his chest. He reached his Maserati and climbed in, slamming the door shut as if to shut out the world around him. As he sped away from the café, the engine roared beneath him, but the sound barely masked the whirlwind of memories swirling in his mind. Nawee—his ex-boyfriend—was out there living his best life, while Vegas felt stuck in a cycle of regret and unhealed wounds.

Every thought of Nawee hurt, reminding Vegas of the betrayal that still haunted him. It felt like he was watching Nawee from a distance, enjoying life, while he was trapped in a flood of emotions. The difference was infuriating. Anger mixed with sadness made it hard for him to breathe. Vegas tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying to concentrate on the road, but all he could think about was how much he wanted to move on, just like Nawee had.

He drove aimlessly, the city lights blurring as he navigated the streets. With each turn, the weight of his past pressed down harder, suffocating him. He didn't care where he was going; he just needed to escape. Eventually, he found himself on a deserted road, surrounded by nothing but darkness. The silence outside mirrored the chaos within him, and he pulled over, the tires crunching on the gravel as he parked.

In the solitude of the night, Vegas broke down. He buried his face in his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks as the dam he had built around his emotions shattered. He had loved Nawee fiercely, believing in the facade of charm and affection, only to be left broken and betrayed.
The memories, once sweet, now felt like thorns digging into his heart.

After a long time, he finally composed himself enough to drive again.

Meanwhile, Kinn was dropping Pete off at his apartment.

"Are you okay?" Kinn asked, concern etched on his face as he glanced over at Pete, who was deep in thought.

"I just can't believe how quickly everything changed," Pete replied, barely above a whisper. He still felt the weight of Vegas's sorrow hanging in the air. "I mean, we're all laughing one minute, and the next... he just leaves."

Kinn frowned, gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. "I hate Nawee for what he did to Vegas. If I ever see him again..." His voice trailed off, anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

"I'd help you," Porsche chimed in from the passenger seat, his tone fiery and stubborn. "That guy deserves it. No one should treat someone like that, especially not Vegas."

Kinn glanced over at Porsche, catching his intense gaze. "I know, but we can't let anger get the best of us. Vegas needs us to be strong right now, not to go off chasing ghosts."

"Yeah, but I just can't stand the thought of him hurting," Porsche said, frustration lacing his words. "It makes me want to punch something. Or someone."

"Believe me, I feel the same way," Kinn replied, his voice softening. "But let's not add to Vegas's pain. He's been through enough already. We need to show him he's not alone."

In the back seat, Pete was silently listening, absorbing their conversation, and feeling the weight of the situation. He couldn't help but admire the bond between Kinn and Porsche.

Porsche let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his seat. "You're right. It's just... it's hard seeing him like this. He deserves better."

Kinn nodded, a serious look in his eyes. "Hmm... I need to go home. We need to be there for him right now."

Porsche met Kinn's gaze, his expression softening. "You always know what to say. I just wish I could do more."

"Just being there for him is enough," Kinn reassured, easing his grip on the wheel as he took a calming breath. "We'll get through this together, I promise."

"Together," Porsche echoed, a small smile breaking through the tension. "Yeah, I like the sound of that."

After dropping Pete off, Kinn dropped Porsche to his apartment, but the tension was palpable. Kinn picked up his phone, hesitating before calling Vegas. The ringing echoed in the silence, but it went straight to voicemail. "Come on, Vegas, pick up," he muttered, worry creeping into his voice.

Kinn exchanged glances with Porsche, who looked equally troubled. "He's probably just upset," Kinn said, trying to convince himself. "He needs time."

In the meantime, Vegas, lost in his turmoil, finally drove home, arriving to the watchful gaze of his bodyguard, Nop. The man opened the door, his expression unreadable. "Sir, are you all right?"

"Just take me inside," Vegas replied, his voice hoarse. He stumbled through the entrance, the weight of his emotions crashing down on him once more.

As he entered his room, he collapsed onto the bed, the tears flowing freely now. Nop silently left the room, sensing that Vegas needed space. The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence enveloped Vegas like a suffocating blanket.