The forest was thick with humidity, the warm air was like a bnket as Gun returned to the cottage. He arranged to meet the callboy again, despite the conflicting emotions swirling in his chest. Part of him craved the physical connection, the distraction from suffocating his memories and responsibilities. But another part of him knew this encounter wasn’t just about pleasure—it was about escaping the pain that has haunted him every day since King’s death.

  When the callboy arrived, Gun already had the blindfold on, waiting patiently. His pulse quickened as the callboy stopped in front of him. Gun could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

  “Rex,” the callboy whispered, his breath hot against Gun’s ear as he pushed him gently onto the bed.

  Gun’s breath hitched, his body already trembling with anticipation. The callboy’s hands roamed over him, exploring every inch of his skin, as if Gun’s body were a temple. The touch sent electric shocks through his veins, and before long, Gun’s moans filled the room, raw and uncontrolled.

  “You feel so good,” the callboy murmured, his voice low and thick with desire as he worshipped Gun’s body with his hands, lips, and tongue. Every touch, every kiss ignited a fire inside Gun that he couldn’t contain.

  The callboy entered him slowly, and Gun cried out, his back arching off the bed as pleasure rippled through him. He gripped the sheets, his fingers digging into the fabric as the callboy moved inside him, thrusting deeper and harder with every movement. Gun’s moans grew louder, his voice raw with pleasure as he lost himself in the moment.

  “Yes, like that,” Gun gasped, his body trembling under the callboy’s relentless pace. The sensation of being filled, of being completely taken over, was intoxicating. The callboy groaned, clearly enjoying the way Gun responded to every thrust, his body bending to his will.

  “You’re perfect,” the callboy whispered as he kissed Gun’s neck, his hands gripping Gun’s hips as he drove into him with increasing urgency. “So beautiful… so damn perfect.”

  Gun’s moans grew louder, filling the room, his body lost in the overwhelming pleasure. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think—only feel. The sensation of being worshipped, of being adored was almost too much to bear. Every touch, every thrust, every whispered word drove him closer to the edge until he was crying out, his body shaking as he came, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

  The callboy’s movements slowed, his breathing heavy as he finished, leaving them both panting and spent. The silence that followed was thick with the weight of what had just happened. As the callboy dressed and left, Gun y still, the blindfold slipping off as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

  But as soon as the door clicked shut, the emptiness crept back in.

  Gun sat up in bed, his chest tight as the memories flooded his mind. It wasn’t the callboy he felt when he closed his eyes—it was King. He could still see King’s face so vividly, could still remember the way King touched him, the way he smelled during sex. Gun’s throat tightened as tears welled up in his eyes.

  He remembered a morning when they were still together, waking up to find King sleeping beside him. Gun had watched him for what felt like hours, tracing the lines of his face with his eyes, memorising every detail. He remembered leaning over to kiss him awake, the gentle press of his lips against King’s cheek, and the way King had stirred, smiling before his eyes even opened.

  “I miss you,” Gun whispered to the empty room, his voice trembling.

  *

  Gun was standing in the Hall of Remembrance, a pce he had visited countless times since King’s death. The walls were lined with memories, pictures, and mementos of their life together. It was a sacred space, a pce where Gun could still feel King’s presence, even though he was gone.

  Gun stood in front of a photo of the two of them, his fingers gently tracing the outline of King’s face. The tears he had been holding back finally spilled over, his shoulders shaking as the grief washed over him.

  “I wish I could go back,” Gun said, his voice barely a whisper. “I wish I could tell you every second of every day how much I loved you. I didn’t say it enough. I didn’t… I didn’t appreciate you enough when you were here.”

  He wiped his eyes, trying to steady himself. “But I’m letting go now, King. I have to. I can’t keep holding on to the past forever. I miss you every day. But I have to move on. I have to live again.”

  Gun took a deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment as he tried to find peace in the decision. “I’ll always love you,” he whispered. “But I need to start living for me now. For the kids. And maybe… maybe even for someone new.”

  The words hung in the air, and for the first time in a long time, Gun felt a sense of peace. It wasn’t closure—not yet—but it was a step forward. A step towards healing. Towards a future where he could love again without guilt, without the shadows of the past haunting him.

  And with that, Gun left the Hall of Remembrance, feeling lighter, even if just by a little.