Breaking In The Straight - Part 10 (Patreon)

Hey everyone!Many months ago, I started a little collab with a fellow talented Patreon writer, Steven Cavehill. We originally planned to finish this story together, but Steven abandoned me for dragons and worldbuilding, and honestly? That’s a very defensible life choice. Because of that, we never got the chance to complete Breaking in The Straight as a team.

Since I promised all of you an ending to this story quite some time ago, I decided to finish it on my own. I really hope you enjoy the final parts of Breaking in The Straight!

The Ultimatum

---------Alex’s POV----------

Everyone in this story is 18+

The library, the place where it all had begun with Chad, felt colder than usual. It wasn’t empty, but it may as well have been, with just a few scattered students clicking through essays or muttering over problem sets. I chose a quiet corner by the window, same one I used when I needed to think but didn’t want to be alone in my room.

Chad was late, which wasn’t surprising. What really surprised me was that he showed up at all.

When he finally came around the corner, he looked a little flushed, like he’d walked fast but wouldn’t admit it. He didn’t sit right away. Just stood there, hands stuffed into the front pocket of his hoodie, like he wasn’t sure whether this was a conversation or a trap.

I gestured to the seat across from me. “You made it.”

“Yeah,” he said, lowering himself down like his body weighed more than usual. “So… what’s this about?”

His voice was guarded. Too casual.

I didn’t answer right away. I’d been thinking about this moment since the last one ended with him storming out, full of frustration and fear. I wasn’t angry now. Not exactly. Mostly I was tired. Tired of having the same invisible fight over and over. Tired of pretending I didn’t care as much as I did.

“I don’t want to keep doing this if it’s not going anywhere,” I said finally. “I know we made rules. No strings, no drama, just whatever this was supposed to be. But things change.”

He looked down at the table. “You knew what this was.”

“Yeah. I did. But I also know what it’s become.”

His jaw tensed. His fingers curled lightly against the edge of the table like he was holding something back. I waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. Just stared at a scratch on the surface of the table like it could somehow give him an answer.

I leaned forward a little. “I like you, Chad. I think you like me too, but you’re so scared of what that means, you’d rather destroy it than risk anyone seeing it. And I can’t do that anymore.”

He didn’t look up. Just shook his head slightly, as if trying to shake off a thought.

“I’m not asking you to change overnight,” I added. “I’m asking if this means something to you. And if it doesn’t, that’s okay. But I need to know. Because if it doesn’t, then this stops here.”

When he finally met my eyes, there was something in them that almost looked like panic. Not loud or dramatic, but something tight and inward, like he didn’t know how to process what I was asking.

“I don’t know if I can do what you want,” he said, voice low. “Not now.”

It wasn’t unexpected, but hearing it out loud still felt like slipping into cold water.

I nodded. “Then that’s your answer.”

He sat up, suddenly defensive. “That doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “But caring isn’t the same as showing up.”

He looked at me like he wanted to argue, but nothing came out. Just another long silence stretched between us, and in that space I saw what I needed to see. I wasn’t going to change him. Not by waiting. Not by pretending to be okay with half of him when I wanted the whole thing.

“I don’t hate you,” I said quietly, standing up. “I just can’t be in this with someone who isn’t really in it. Or do this half-assed thing we have been doing.”

He stayed sitting, his hands now resting flat on the table. His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but no words came.

I didn’t wait around this time.

Outside, the sky had dimmed, stained with the early blue of evening. I zipped up my jacket and started walking toward my flat. 

Later, back in my room, I lay on my bed with the lights off, scrolling aimlessly through my phone. I paused on a message I hadn’t opened. Just a casual one from someone I’d met at a party a few weeks ago. Peter, I think. We’d joked about something stupid, maybe shots or fencing or terrible fashion choices and he’d asked if I wanted to get coffee sometime.

I didn’t reply then. I wasn’t really looking. I still wasn’t sure if I was. But tonight, for the first time, the idea didn’t feel impossible.

I left the message unopened, though. Just let it sit there for now. Maybe tomorrow.