Imagines (Beyonce x y/n)

Come home 3

"It was... it was a last-minute decision," he started, his gaze fixed on her, searching for any sign of her understanding. "A client, the one we're trying to land for the South American expansion, he insisted on a late dinner, then 'one last drink' at this new, exclusive club downtown. I just wanted to get home to you and Ava, but he was important. I couldn't risk offending him." He paused, remembering the stifling atmosphere of the club, the incessant thrum of the bass. "I had two beers, maybe three, over dinner. Nothing out of the ordinary. At the club, I stuck to water for a while, just trying to be professional, listening to him ramble."

His voice dropped, the memory still a visceral punch. "Then he ordered a round of shots. Tequila. I don't even like tequila, Bey, you know that. But he pushed, and it felt rude to refuse. I took one. Just one. And after that... everything just started to get... blurry. Not like normal drunkenness. It was a sudden, heavy blanket over my mind. My vision got tunnelled, sounds were muffled, and my body felt like it wasn't mine." He clenched his fists, the shame burning his cheeks.

"I remember trying to tell him I needed to leave. My words were slurred, I couldn't stand straight. He just laughed, said I was a lightweight. And then... then I remember seeing her. This woman. She was suddenly right there, in my space. I don't know where she came from. I remember thinking, very vaguely, that she wasn't right. That something was wrong. But I couldn't... I couldn't control my body. It was like I was watching myself from a distance, screaming, but no sound came out."

He swallowed, his throat constricting. "The next thing I properly remember is waking up. Not in my bed, not in our home. But in a strange room, a hotel suite, the morning light cutting through the curtains like a knife. And she was... she was there. Naked. I sprang up, Bey, I swear to God. My head was pounding, my stomach churning. I was terrified. Disgusted. I didn't know how I got there. I didn't know what had happened. It was a nightmare. I just wanted to disappear."

He ran a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the memory. "I got out of there as fast as I could. I threw on my clothes. I didn't talk to her. I drove straight home, my mind racing, trying to piece it together. Was I crazy? Did I black out? Did I... did I do something I couldn't remember? I was in a complete panic. I showered for an hour, trying to wash away the feeling of... of being contaminated I didn't even notice your stuff was gone until the evening "

Beyoncé watched him, her expression a careful mask. She hadn't flinched, hadn't interrupted. Her gaze was intense, absorbing every word.

"And then," he continued, his voice gaining a desperate edge, "Kelly Solange. They bombarded me. They knew, Bey. They knew before I even walked in the door. They had the pictures, the videos. They said... they said they were 'looking out for you.' They told me you deserved better. They told me that what happened last night proved I was still the same man I used to be, before you, before Ava. A cheat. A liar. They twisted it, Bey. They said, 'Just admit it, Yn. It's over. You finally showed your true colours.'"

His voice broke with the memory of their cruel words. "They threatened to ruin me, to make sure you saw everything, to make sure Ava knew. They said I had forfeited my right to defend myself. They were so convincing, so cold, so... gleeful. They said they'd been waiting for this. That they'd warned you about me for years. And because I couldn't remember, because I felt so sick and lost and guilty for even being in that situation... I let them. I let them convince me that I was a monster. I let them take control of the narrative. I didn't know how to fight back without sounding like a desperate liar."

He gestured vaguely at the envelope on the table. "It took me weeks to even begin to process it, to try and find a way to explain. I was terrified of what you'd think, of the disappointment in Ava's eyes. But something kept nagging at me. The way I felt. The suddenness of it. It didn't feel like me. It wasn't like any drunk I'd ever been. I started researching. GHB. Sudden onset. Memory loss. Disorientation. It fit. So I... I secretly got tested. I had to know. I needed proof, not just for you, but for myself. To know I hadn't lost my mind. To know I hadn't willingly betrayed everything we built."