Sweat ran ceaselessly down his back, dripping from his chin onto the floor. Once again, he lowered himself slowly, held the tension for a moment—and then pushed himself upward with all the strength he had left. His arms were already trembling, yet he forced them to move. Isaac clenched his teeth as he lowered himself again. Just a few more repetitions, he told himself. He had to start somewhere if he ever wanted to regain his former strength.
Since Vincent had healed him, the days that followed had passed like a haze. Sleep had defined his routine—deep, dreamless sleep, as if his body needed every second to piece itself back together. Only on the fourth day had the pain finally disappeared. What remained were the scars—pale, unyielding lines on his skin, silent witnesses to the bullets that had nearly killed him.
As quickly as his body had recovered, everything felt like a cruel, exhausting dream. Part of him wished the memories would fade just as easily. How deeply he longed to forget everything he had learned and experienced during that time.
He pushed himself up again.
His muscles had stiffened during the time he had spent lying down. He had lost weight, and despite the healing of his wounds, his physical condition had not improved as if by magic. He would have to work to move the way he once had.
Especially with the upcoming heist for the Boss.
The thought alone made his stomach tighten uncomfortably. He was supposed to steal from the Boss—the man who had taken him in during the worst phase of his life, trained him, and raised him. Through him, Isaac had gained the values that had become like a manifesto to him.
The Boss had fed him. Taught him skills that went beyond mere survival. Punished him when he failed, and praised him when he performed. For seventeen years, Isaac had strived to satisfy this man—out of loyalty, out of gratitude, perhaps even out of something dangerously close to love.
He had been the only father Isaac had ever had.
He had loved and respected this man.
Unfortunately, he wasn't naive enough to believe that the Boss would let him live after the last heist. The ring he had stolen still lay gleaming on the nightstand, reminding him daily of his failure to carry out his job, of nearly dying—and of letting Noah die, even though his most important task had been to protect the boy.
Isaac pushed himself up once more. His arms nearly gave out, trembling uncontrollably.
But Noah was dead, and there was nothing he could do to bring him back. Deep down, he still hoped the Boss might forgive him, yet he was painfully aware that he could never return.
Stealing from him didn't feel right.
However, this was the only way to uncover the truth—and whether Noctis had lied to him about this as well. Isaac knew everything about the estate. He knew where the Boss worked and slept. He knew who the Boss's closest allies were and with whom he kept in contact. Even most of his clients and business partners were no secret to him.
Isaac hadn't just stolen for the Boss.
He had transported goods, delivered messages, and acted as an intermediary. He had overseen handovers, assessed risks, and taken on tasks the Boss wouldn't have entrusted to anyone else.
Isaac knew very well that the Boss rarely engaged in deals that operated at the lowest level of illegality. Most of the time, he only made such deals to achieve something good. After all, he wanted to unite the city and rid it of crime. The Boss wanted to remove the filth, no matter how stubborn it was, and Isaac knew that he only ever sent Noctis to punish those who refused to comply.
He wasn't naive enough to believe the Boss didn't have blood on his hands. They were criminals. But wasn't that exactly why he had people like Isaac and Noctis under him? So that his own hands—and his principles—could remain clean while others dirtied theirs?
Wasn't that the point of a hierarchy?
All at once, he felt irritated with Noctis again. He still couldn't fully grasp any of it. Over and over, Noctis had told him how much he loved him and how long he had been devoted to him.
If that were really true, why had he never spoken plainly? Isaac couldn't have been so stubborn that Noctis had been afraid to talk to him about it.
Isaac stopped his push-ups and let himself drop to the floor. Then he rolled onto his back, staring breathlessly at the ceiling. He would have listened to him. He would have…
Would he really have listened?
Or would he have thrown him out of his apartment and called him a liar?
Damn it, Isaac didn't know what to think anymore.
He sat up, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and grabbed his water bottle. He drained it in one go, as if he could wash down the unrest inside him along with it. Then he got up and decided to do a few more stretches. His body still felt far too stiff.
He moved into a split, bent forward, and pushed himself deeper bit by bit until his wrists extended past his toes. A knock at the door interrupted him.
Isaac didn't react. Whoever it was would come in anyway.
The door opened, followed by a soft click as it shut again.
Isaac suppressed a snort. Of course it had to be Noctis, just when he'd been thinking about him…
He leaned forward again, resuming his stretch.
"How else am I supposed to prepare for the heist? With my muscles this stiff, I won't be able to get in as easily as usual. Besides, we don't have a portal this time."
"I could help you become a bit more… flexible again," Noctis suggested.
"Forget it."
He wasn't about to let Noctis massage him—or do anything more intimate with him. Those days were definitely over. No matter how difficult it was to ignore the pull Noctis still had on him.
Noctis sighed so quietly Isaac barely noticed and sat down at the table, placing a plate on it.
"How are you?" he asked instead of pressing the previous topic.
Isaac closed his eyes briefly and exhaled slowly.
"Better," he replied. "I'm not as tired as I was the last few days."
Noctis let out a relieved breath.
"Are you still in pain?" he asked carefully.
Isaac shifted position, stretching out the other leg and bending over it.
"No."
"That's good, Dar… Isaac," he corrected himself softly.
Noctis came to see him every day, even though Isaac had made it unmistakably clear that he wanted nothing more from him and needed distance. He should have known Noctis wouldn't be stopped by his words. He had always shown up whenever he wanted—and only left once he had what he desired.
And yet, he hadn't touched Isaac the way he had grown used to over the past weeks.
Still, Isaac had noticed that Noctis always held his hand when he slept. More than once in the past few days, Isaac had woken to find Noctis hastily pulling his hand away.
No matter how much Noctis tried to convince him he was imagining it, the sudden coolness in his hand betrayed the absence of the warmth that had been there just moments before.
It wore on him.
Everything wore on him.
It was tearing him apart—the situation with the Boss, the trouble brewing in Magnolia's underworld, Noah's death, and perhaps worst of all, the loss of trust in Noctis. His betrayal. He wished he had never learned any of it—then he could have gone on, naïvely spending his time with Noctis as before.
He missed him.
He wanted to be called darling again.
He wanted to feel Noctis's warmth without pushing him away.
Without Noctis, he felt incomplete. Even though he had always managed well on his own, the thought of leaving him soon still hurt. He wanted to stay with him—but he couldn't, not after all the lies.
The anger he felt toward him was stronger than the desire to be close.
So strong that his hands trembled, and he didn't know what to do with these feelings. Noctis wasn't trying to pressure him, even though he was always there—and still, that closeness alone was already too much for Isaac.
He had to do something to get rid of this anger.
Isaac paused.
Then an idea came to him.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze and looked at Noctis, who was watching him from the table.
"Is there a training hall here?"
Noctis raised an eyebrow slightly.
"There is. Why? You want to lift weights?"
"No." Isaac straightened up fully. "I feel like beating you up."
The reaction was immediate. Noctis stood, a sharp interest in his eyes.
"Are you sure you're ready to fight?" His tone shifted into something familiar, lightly provocative. "In your condition, I'll have you on the ground faster than you'd like."
Isaac let out a quiet snort.
"Save your remarks for when you actually manage it."
A faint smile crossed Noctis's face, barely suppressing his laughter.
His supressed laughter echoed within Isaac. It had been so long since he had heard that sound from him. Once again, it painfully reminded him of what he had lost. He nodded toward the door.
"After you. Aside from this room, I don't know my way around here."
"As you wish," Noctis replied, in good spirits as he walked ahead.
His steps were lighter than in the days before. It irritated Isaac that Noctis was looking forward to the fight.
___
They reached the training hall within minutes. As they entered, a large, open space stretched out before them, its floor covered with mats. A few men—and the occasional woman—were in the middle of their exercises.
The moment their eyes fell on Noctis, they stopped.
Almost in unison, they straightened and bowed respectfully.
Noctis acknowledged it with nothing more than a brief tilt of his head. That was all it took. Instantly, the training ceased. Without a word, those present gathered their belongings and left the hall. A few cast Isaac brief, curious glances, but no one asked questions.
Then they were alone.
Silence settled heavily over the room.
Noctis walked onto the training area. Before stepping onto the mats, he removed his shoes and socks, set aside his weapons, his phone, and his keys. Then he let his jacket slip to the floor and moved toward the center.
Isaac had nothing with him, so he simply took off his shoes and followed suit.
He positioned himself opposite Noctis, who studied him with concern.
"Do you want to warm up first? After all, you've only just—"
He didn't get any further.
Without warning, Isaac moved.
He closed the distance in a single quick step and went straight on the attack. His fist shot forward, followed by another. He didn't hesitate for even a second, striking again and again.
"Whoa—careful!" Noctis called, raising his arms to block the blows.
"Shut up and fight!" Isaac snapped, pressing on.
He forced Noctis into a defensive stance, giving him barely any room to counter. Blow followed blow—hard and precise, at least as precise as his current condition allowed.
Noctis stepped back, blocking, redirecting. Then he launched a targeted kick. Isaac saw it coming in time and jumped back, narrowly avoiding the hit. But the moment he regained his footing, he advanced again.
This time, Noctis turned the tables. He intercepted Isaac's attack and countered—faster than Isaac could react.
Isaac responded as quickly as he could, though not without taking a hit to the shoulder. He could feel that while his body had healed, it was far from being in its former condition. At least he could still read where Noctis would strike—but his body couldn't keep up.
That was fine. He would train hard until he regained his former agility.
What followed was an intense fight that demanded all of his senses.
He couldn't say how much time had passed—only that Noctis still had the upper hand, effortlessly parrying his attacks. No matter what Isaac did, he couldn't get through to him. By now, sweat was pouring down his body. His breathing was heavy, his limbs were growing tired, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to evade Noctis's strikes.
His anger was still there, and slowly but surely, a deep frustration crept in. So far, he had only managed to land a single hit—nothing more. If this kept up, he definitely wouldn't get what he wanted.
Noctis caught his next punch with ease and held it in place. The attack stopped abruptly.
"Have you calmed down?" he asked, also out of breath, but noticeably more composed.
Isaac's expression darkened.
Not even close.
"Keep going," he hissed.
He tried to wrench his hand free, but Noctis's grip remained firm.
"Isaac, you should take a break."
The answer came without words.
Isaac slammed his foot down hard onto Noctis's. Noctis cursed and reflexively let go. Isaac seized the moment, driving a kick into Noctis's left side. Noctis barely managed to dodge.
"You're so damn stubborn!"
Isaac advanced again, striking upward, aiming for his chin.
"Look who's talking!" Isaac shot back. "You always do whatever you want and don't even think about letting me in on anything!"
"How are you even bringing that up now?!" Noctis asked, irritated. "I haven't even done anything today—"
Isaac's fist connected hard under Noctis's chin. His head snapped back, and he staggered. Isaac pressed on, dropping low and sweeping Noctis's legs out from under him, sending him to the ground—though not without being pulled down with him.
The next thing Isaac registered was that he was on his back, with Noctis pinning him to the mat.
He held him there, gripping his wrists above his head and pressing him down with his weight.
"Let go," Isaac gasped, his breathing uneven.
"Not until you calm down."
"I am calm," he hissed.
Noctis raised an eyebrow slightly. "You look more like an angry valkyrie. That's not calm."
Isaac tugged at his wrists, tensing his muscles, searching for a way out.
Hold me.
"Let me go, Noctis! I'm not done with you yet!" Isaac snapped. "I was too exhausted the whole time to hit you for everything you kept from me!"
Noctis's expression shifted. Confusion crept in.
"Darling, you almost died…" he said more quietly. "How exactly were you supposed to hit me in that state?"
Isaac's stomach tightened.
I want you to call me darling…
"Stop calling me that."
A brief moment of silence.
"Isaac…" Noctis began, but his voice lost its steadiness. He looked away. "I'm sorry."
Isaac's expression hardened.
Stop apologizing for everything! Why aren't you like you used to be?!
"Stop apologizing all the time," he snapped. "Do you think that'll make everything go back to how it was?"
Noctis looked at him seriously. "I would do anything to make you come back to me—to look at me the way you did before all of this."
A sharp pain shot through Isaac's chest.
I want you to stay with me. Hold me and show me the truth. Tell me this is all just some bad joke. Show me that I'm the idiot—that I'm misunderstanding everything.
His gaze flickered for a moment.
Then it hardened again.
"Let me go."
"Only if you calm down."
How was he supposed to calm down when so much had built up inside him? Where only a few days ago he had felt numb and empty, there was now anger. Anger, stress, and restlessness. Isaac felt like he was about to burst. So much had happened, and nothing he tried helped him deal with any of it.
Noctis was the last person he wanted to see, and yet the mere sight of the sorrow in those glowing golden eyes hurt him. He wanted to push him away, only to pull him close again the next moment and kiss him until they were both dizzy.
Despite all the pain, Isaac still desired him.
Despite all the lies and everything Noctis had kept hidden from him.
Isaac forced himself to calm down. Noctis watched him carefully. The moment his grip loosened ever so slightly, Isaac took advantage of it. With a swift movement, he reversed their positions. A heartbeat later, Noctis was lying on his back while Isaac straddled him. Surprise flashed in the golden eyes beneath him.
"Darling…" Noctis said softly.
Isaac felt as though he were being torn apart inside.
Too many emotions had piled up. Anger, longing, pain, desire—everything pressed against his chest at once until he could barely tell which hurt more. He didn't want to think anymore. Didn't want to analyze, doubt, or remember.
Why did Noctis of all people have to matter this much to him?
Why couldn't he simply shed his feelings like old skin?
But before he could think any further, he had already leaned down. His lips crashed against Noctis's in a hungry, almost desperate kiss.
Noctis reacted immediately.
He sat up and pulled Isaac tightly against him, his hands sliding over his waist and back as though he were afraid of losing him again. The kiss deepened, breathless and consuming. Not a word passed between them. They kissed as though trying to drown out everything else. And for one brief moment, it actually worked.
Isaac could feel Noctis's arousal beneath him, and his own body responded just as strongly to the kiss.
He felt Noctis's hand slide over his backside, kneading it until a sigh escaped Isaac's lips. Desire took control. He wanted more. He wanted to feel so much more. Suddenly, being here with Noctis felt unbearably right.
Noctis opened his pants. His hand moved over Isaac's bare, sweat-slick skin, fingers brushing teasingly against him before slipping inside. Isaac didn't stop him. He wanted to rid himself of all those bottled-up emotions. A moan left him as Noctis added another finger, preparing him impatiently for what Isaac so desperately wanted.
At last, Isaac broke the kiss and tore the damp shirt from his body. Noctis's lips found the curve of his neck, kissing their way downward. Isaac stripped off his pants, then guided Noctis against him and slowly lowered himself onto him.
It was far too tight, and he immediately felt just how long it had been since they had last been together.
That didn't frighten him.
If anything, it only turned him on more.
"Fuck, darling…" Noctis breathed hoarsely as Isaac rolled his hips once, taking all of him inside in a single movement.
A satisfied moan escaped him as he was filled completely, and he moved immediately, without giving himself even a moment to adjust.
This was exactly what his body had needed.
He rode Noctis hard until white spots danced before his eyes and his lower body went deliciously numb. His mind shut down, his lips finding Noctis's again. He felt his hands on him. His skin burned everywhere Noctis touched him.
"Noctis…" he breathed against his lips. "Hold me…"
Noctis's arms tightened around him, everything growing even more intense. But no matter how much pleasure coiled and pulsed through him, Isaac didn't stop. Instead, he adjusted his pace until he could feel him exactly where he needed him.
With a cry, he came, spilling across Noctis's shirt while Noctis climaxed deep inside him. Breathing heavily, Isaac collapsed into Noctis's arms.
"Darling… I'm sorry." His voice sounded fragile. "Please don't hate me for it anymore."
Reality hit Isaac abruptly.
Like a blow.
He froze.
Shocked, he pulled away from Noctis and scrambled to his feet. His heart was racing now for an entirely different reason. Without a word, he grabbed his clothes and pulled them back on as quickly as possible.
"What the hell am I even doing here…?" he muttered to himself.
Had he really just slept with Noctis because he didn't know how else to deal with the chaos inside him?
I still love him… despite everything…
He looked back at Noctis one last time. Flushed, exposed, still sitting on the floor, Noctis stared at him in disbelief.
"Isaac! Please don't go!" he begged.
Isaac bit down hard on his lower lip.
He couldn't afford to be weak now.
"Don't come see me anymore," he finally managed. "Not until we've cracked the Boss's safe."
He couldn't say anything more. Before Noctis could react, Isaac turned and fled the hall. Behind him, he heard hurried footsteps.
"Isaac, wait!"
But Isaac only quickened his pace.
He reached his room, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Only there did he allow the tension to leave his lungs.
His body was still throbbing.
He wanted to go back. Wanted more of Noctis's warmth, more kisses, more closeness. Wanted to lose himself in him until nothing remained but silence.
But his mind wouldn't allow it. The memories of everything he had learned were too vivid.
Isaac tore his clothes from his body and stepped beneath the cold shower. Water ran over his overheated skin, yet it failed to calm the chaos inside him.
He rested his forehead against the tiles and clenched his hand into a fist.
He never should have given in to the impulse.
And yet, it had felt good to simply let go.