Ghosts Between Us (ManxMan)

Chapter 9: Haunting Past (Cole Pov)

Cole woke up in his own bed, his body still heavy from sleep, though his mind was already stirring with restlessness. His sheets felt cold, a stark contrast to the warmth that had enveloped him just hours before. Keaton's warmth.

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the night replayed in his mind. The cheap wine, the soft glow of the candles, and Keaton's laugh—all of it lingered, haunting him in the stillness of his apartment. The way Keaton had wrapped his arms around him while they slept, holding him so tightly, made Cole feel something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years. Vulnerable.

And that terrified him.

"Fuck." He muttered the word to himself, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. Why had he left like that? He didn't even say goodbye—he just bolted. The moment he felt Keaton's arm draped over him in the early morning light, something inside him snapped. It was like a switch had been flipped, sending him into a panic.

That wasn't him. He wasn't the guy who stayed after the night was over.

But then again, Keaton hadn't been like anyone else. It wasn't just a hookup. The thought of that made Cole's stomach turn.

He sat up in bed, kicking the sheets off, trying to shake the feeling of being trapped in his own skin. He couldn't remember the last time someone had made him feel so exposed, so raw. Not since Freddie.

Freddie. The name hit him like a punch to the gut, reminding him why he never let himself get too close to anyone. Not since Freddie had ripped his heart out and left him bleeding on the sidewalk, confused and humiliated. Freddie, who had backed away in disgust when Cole had confessed his feelings, had made Cole feel like his love wasn't just unreciprocated—it was unwanted.

It had been years since that day, but the pain lingered. It always did.

Cole swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching his arms overhead as if the movement could shake off the memories. He had built a fortress around himself after Freddie—charming, confident, and always in control. But last night, Keaton had slipped through the cracks of that facade. Keaton, with his soft smiles and gentle touch, had made Cole feel safe.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Cole padded over to his bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was still tousled from sleep, his skin pale in the early morning light. He splashed some water on his face, trying to wash away the remnants of last night, but nothing could erase the warmth he'd felt in Keaton's arms.

His phone buzzed on the bathroom counter, and for a split second, his heart jumped. Keaton?

But when he glanced at the screen, it wasn't Keaton. Just a notification from the dating app, reminding him of some unread messages. He grabbed his phone, swiping the notification away with a sharp flick of his thumb. He wasn't in the mood.

Cole moved back to his bedroom, tossing his phone onto the bed. He hadn't even opened the app again since he left Keaton's place. Part of him wanted to see if Keaton had messaged him, but the other part—the part that was terrified of what he might find—kept him from opening it.

As he went about his morning routine, grabbing coffee and heading out for a run, his mind kept drifting back to Keaton. The way Keaton hadn't seemed fazed by his presence. The way Keaton had seen past the bravado and the looks that everyone else was so charmed by. Cole was used to people fawning over him, chasing after him because of what they saw on the outside.

But Keaton... Keaton had looked at him like he saw something deeper. And that had stirred something in Cole he wasn't ready to confront.

His feet pounded against the pavement as he jogged through the park near his apartment, but no matter how hard he pushed himself, he couldn't outrun the thoughts of last night. The taste of the cheap wine, the smell of expensive candles, the softness of Keaton's skin—it all kept coming back in flashes, like scenes from a movie he couldn't turn off.

Why did I leave?

Because he couldn't handle it. Cole wasn't the guy who stayed. He wasn't the guy who let someone hold him like that. He was the one in control. He was the one who walked away before things got messy, before anyone had a chance to hurt him.

He couldn't let someone see the real him. The part that still hurt, that still carried the rejection from Freddie like a scar across his chest. The part that was terrified of letting anyone in because if they saw what was underneath all the confidence and charm, they might walk away just like Freddie did.

And Keaton... Keaton had seen too much already. Cole could feel it. Keaton had seen through the facade, past the cocky attitude and the good looks. He had seen Cole—really seen him.

Cole slowed to a stop, breathing heavily as he bent over to catch his breath. His mind was spinning. He needed to get control of himself, but the more he tried, the more he felt like he was slipping.

He stood there for a moment, looking at the early morning sky, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to him like vines.

Eventually, he walked back to his apartment, his body exhausted from the run, but his mind still racing. He grabbed his phone off the bed, his thumb hovering over the dating app. Should I message him? The question gnawed at him, the same question that had been lurking since the moment he left Keaton's place.

But every time he thought about messaging Keaton, the fear of rejection flared up inside him. What if Keaton didn't feel the same way? What if Keaton was pissed that he left?

Cole tossed the phone down again, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He didn't know what to do.

His phone buzzed again, and this time, he snatched it up quickly, hoping against hope that it was Keaton. But as he looked at the screen, his heart sank.

"Cole, I'm sorry. Let's talk, give me a call when you get a chance." The message was from Freddie.

Freddie. The one person Cole thought he'd never hear from again. The one person he had buried deep in his past, where all the hurt and rejection lived.

Cole's hand tightened around his phone as he stared at the message. He didn't want to open it. He didn't want to deal with Freddie—not now, not ever. But the message was like a bomb waiting to explode, threatening to drag him back into a past he wasn't ready to face.

He put his phone on silent and tossed it onto the bed, flopping down next to it, his mind now filled with both Keaton and Freddie, their faces haunting him in different ways. The soft, safe warmth of Keaton contrasted sharply with the cold sting of Freddie's rejection.

Cole spread out on the soft bed, with no idea what to do next...