Desolate Love

Chapter 36: The Agreement

Vaughn POV

The Monday morning dragged on, but the tension from our earlier conversation lingered in the air like a storm cloud that wouldn't move. I tried to focus on work, I really did. The constant clicking of keyboards and the hum of the printers should have helped distract me, but all I could think about was Alec's voice, the words we exchanged, and what I was supposed to do with all the feelings that had surfaced.

I couldn't stop wondering what this *was* between us. Was it the same? Was it something else? And the kiss—how did that even fit into the equation?

I tried to keep my distance from Alec throughout the day. I didn't know what I would say to him if we were left alone again, but I could feel his eyes on me every now and then. I had to remind myself that this was *my* choice. I didn't owe him an answer, not yet.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Around mid-afternoon, Alec caught me in the hallway near the break room, his steps hesitant but determined. He looked like he had something on his mind, something he needed to say. My stomach twisted in anticipation, but I couldn't bring myself to turn and walk away.

"Vaughn," Alec started, his voice calm but his eyes searching me for some sign, some hint of what I might be feeling. "I think we should talk about the next meeting."

I raised an eyebrow. "The next meeting?"

"The fourth one," he said, a slight nervousness in his tone now, but he didn't back down. "I know we're taking it slow, and I don't expect anything to be *fixed* right away. But I was hoping that maybe we could do that... again. Like we agreed."

I hesitated. "You're serious?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I know we're still figuring things out. I just... I don't want to leave it all hanging, you know?"

I took a deep breath, letting the words settle in. I'd been avoiding the reality of these meetings, the idea that somehow, there might be more. I didn't know if I was ready for it. Hell, I wasn't sure I would ever be ready. But I *did* know one thing—despite the anger and the hurt and all the years of nothing between us, there was something about Alec's persistence, his quiet sincerity, that kept pulling at me.

"So, you want to go through with it," I said slowly, still trying to gauge how I felt. "The fourth meeting?"

"I do," Alec said firmly, though I saw the uncertainty in his eyes. "But I understand if you're not ready. I can wait for as long as you need. I just... I'd like the chance to prove that I can do better. That I'm not the same person I was."

I wanted to laugh, bitterly. I wanted to tell him that it didn't matter how much he tried to prove himself, that I didn't need it. But I didn't. Because deep down, I knew that the *effort*—his willingness to wait, his willingness to try—mattered more than I was willing to admit.

"I guess," I said, my voice quieter now, "we could have the fourth meeting. But don't expect me to suddenly forget everything, Alec. I'm not going to forgive you just because you show up."

Alec didn't flinch. His gaze was steady, even in the face of my challenge. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness, Vaughn," he said softly. "Not yet. I just want to be here. I want to show you that I can be someone you can count on."

Something about the way he said it—so simple, so unassuming—made my chest tighten. Maybe it was the exhaustion of carrying all the anger, the hurt, the confusion for so long. Maybe it was the small flicker of hope that, despite everything, this might be worth it.

"I don't know if I can ever trust you again," I said, looking down at the floor for a moment, but when I met his eyes again, I found myself softer than before. "But I'll give you the fourth meeting. Let's see how it goes."

Alec's expression softened into something like relief, but there was a quiet sadness there too. He nodded. "Thank you. You don't know what that means to me."

"I'm not doing this for you," I added quickly, wanting to make sure he didn't get the wrong idea. "I'm doing it for me. For once, I'm doing something that feels right, not something I feel like I *have* to do."

Alec smiled faintly, and for the first time in days, the weight between us didn't feel so suffocating. It wasn't resolved—far from it—but it was a step in the right direction. A small one.

"Alright," Alec said, his voice calmer now, "We'll take it slow. No rush. No pressure."

"Good," I muttered, finally feeling like I could breathe a little easier. "Let's just... take it one step at a time, alright?"

"Yeah. One step at a time."

I walked away from him, back to my desk, trying to ignore the faint flutter in my stomach. This was far from over. But for the first time, it didn't feel like it had to be.

And that, I realized, was something.

We were moving forward. Slowly, but forward nonetheless.