SWEET

CHAPTER 15

Pete stood a few steps away from them, looking thinner than before, his hair was a little longer, his eyes still carrying that familiar warmth that never disappeared no matter what he went through.

For a moment, the noisy bar, the smell of alcohol and smoke, even Macau’s presence beside him—everything faded from Vegas.

Only Pete remained.

Vegas’ fingers tightened around the glass in his hand. His first reaction wasn’t joy. It was shock, followed by something sharp and complicated twisting in his chest.

“…Pete?” he repeated, as if saying the name out loud would confirm that he wasn’t imagining things.

Macau’s eyes moved between the two of them, immediately sensing that this was not a simple reunion.

He had heard enough about Pete—about what had happened, about what kind of scar he had left behind in Vegas’ life.

“I missed you, Wegas,” Pete said again, smiling in that same gentle, stupidly sincere way.

Vegas scoffed and looked away, downing what remained in his glass in one go. “Don’t call me that,” he muttered, his voice rough. “What are you doing here?”

Pete stepped closer, hesitating, as if he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to. “I… I work nearby now. I saw you from outside.”

Macau cleared his throat. “Well. This is awkward.” He stood up and patted Vegas’ shoulder. “I’ll give you two some space, yeah? Don’t kill each other.” Then he turned to Pete and added, “Nice to finally meet you. I’m the little brother.”

With that, Macau walked off, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind.

Vegas leaned back in his chair, eyes cold. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Pete’s smile shook, just a little. “I know. But I wanted to see you. I heard… about your father.”

Vegas laughed quietly, without humor. “News travels fast.”

They stood there for a moment, neither of them sitting, neither of them quite knowing what to say next.

Finally, Pete spoke again. “You look tired.”

Vegas almost snapped back something harsh—but stopped. He was tired.

Exhausted, really. And somehow, Pete had always been annoyingly good at seeing through him.

“What do you want, Pete?” Vegas asked.

Pete hesitated, then said honestly, “I don’t know. I just… wanted to know if you were okay.”

That did it.

Vegas’ jaw tightened. “You don’t get to ask that anymore.”

Pete flinched, but didn’t argue. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Silence stretched between them again.

Vegas stood up abruptly and grabbed his jacket. “Go home. Don’t come looking for me again.”

He turned to leave—but Pete’s voice stopped him.

“…You’re not alone anymore, are you?”

Vegas froze.

For just a second, Kim and Porchay’s faces flashed in his mind. The way they slept beside him. The way Chay hugged him. The way Kim looked at him when he thought Vegas wasn’t paying attention.

Vegas didn’t turn around. “That’s none of your business.”

But Pete smiled softly, as if that answer was enough.