Everything Meant Nothing | Part 22: The Kiss That Wrecked Me (Patreon)

All characters depicted in this story are fictional and 18 years of age or older. Everything portrayed is safe, sane, and consensual.

I didn’t sleep. Not really. My body went through the motions; eyes closed, limbs heavy, mind begging for silence but the second I slipped anywhere near unconsciousness, Luke’s face was waiting for me. His hand brushing my cheek. His lips on mine. My own treachery in kissing him back.

Every time my chest tightened with guilt, I rolled over, suffocating against the pillow. Every time I whispered to myself that I hated him, some traitorous part of me whispered back, But you don’t. Not fully.

By four a.m., I gave up. The building was silent, shadows stretched long across the walls. I lay there staring at the ceiling, counting cracks, listening to my heartbeat drum against the sheets. It wasn’t just Luke. It was Theo too. Every thought of Luke came tangled with Theo… his laughter, his warmth, the way he held my hand in public, unashamed.

I hated myself for it. Hated that I was splitting apart, tearing down the middle.

The first pale smear of dawn had barely touched the curtains when I heard a door creak. Soft steps in the hall. Then my own door pushed open.

“Troy?”

Theo’s voice, low, scratchy with sleep.

I shot upright, throat dry. He leaned against the doorframe, still in his warmups, a duffel slung over his shoulder. His hair was messy, his eyes half-lidded but bright in the way only his eyes could be.

“You’re awake babe?” he asked, stepping in before I could answer.

I tried to hide the way my hands trembled. “Yeah. Barely slept.”

He dropped his bag by the chair and crossed to me. “Nerves?”

I nodded automatically, though we both knew I wasn’t the one with a match in a few hours. He grinned… soft, crooked, the kind that unraveled me. “You didn’t need to lose sleep for me.”

“Couldn’t help it.” My voice cracked.

Theo’s weight dipped the mattress as he sat beside me. The air shifted instantly. He smelled faintly of bodywash, like he’d just showered to wake himself up. His thigh brushed mine, casual but devastating.

I kept my gaze fixed on my knees, afraid he’d see through me, straight into the storm inside.

Then, without warning, Theo reached over and cupped my jaw, turning my face toward him. My breath caught.

“You worry too much,” he murmured, eyes dropping to my mouth.

And then he kissed me.

Not a peck or some quick goodbye before a big game. It was soft at first, tender, like the early light itself but then it deepened. His lips moved against mine with deliberate slowness, savoring, tasting, claiming. He kissed like there was no rush, no match waiting, no audience… just me.

I melted before I could think. The heat of him poured into me, his hand steady on my cheek, the other sliding against my thigh. My mouth parted for him instinctively. His tongue brushed mine, and the sound I made was embarrassing… needy, wrecked but he swallowed it like he wanted more.

The world narrowed. All I felt was him… the press of his body, the warmth of his breath, the certainty in every touch. He pulled back just long enough to whisper, “Troy, you’re beautiful like this,” before kissing me again, harder this time.

And I kissed him back. Hungrily.

I knew I shouldn’t. Luke’s kiss was still burned into me from the night before, shame clawing at the edges. But Theo’s lips erased it. Every second with him was fire and safety all at once. He didn’t demand or plead… he just gave. He loved me like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

His hand slipped beneath my shirt, resting warm against my waist. Not urgent or pushing…just grounding me, pulling me closer. I clutched at his t-shirt, desperate, terrified he’d pull away.

When he finally did break the kiss, his forehead rested against mine. Both of us breathing hard. My chest heaved, my pulse roaring in my ears.

Theo pulled back with a crooked grin, his laugh low and teasing. “Don’t get me all hard before my match. I won’t be able to focus.”

I tried to smile, but my throat burned. Because it was what I needed. This softness. This steadiness. This love that didn’t come with conditions or wounds. But all I could think of was how wrong it felt to taste two different mouths in less than twelve hours. How much of a traitor I was to both of them… to Theo, for letting Luke steal a kiss; to Luke, for wanting Theo more in the aftermath.

Theo brushed his thumb over my cheekbone. “Hey. You okay?”

I nodded too fast, blinking away the sting in my eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, just nervous for your match—”

What could I say? That I was shattering from the inside out? That I was falling in love with him, but that another ghost still had its claws in me?

Theo smiled faintly, as if he didn’t notice the storm. Or maybe he noticed but chose to ignore it. “Don’t worry babe. You are my good luck charm.” He kissed my forehead, quick this time, then stood, grabbing his duffel.

I watched him adjust the strap across his chest, casual and unbothered. Like kissing me in the dawn light was as natural as breathing.

He turned back at the door, grin crooked again. “Try to sleep, okay? I’ll play better if I know you’re rested.”

I forced a nod. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

And then he was gone, leaving my room empty, the air still thick with him.

I lay back down, pressing my fingers to my lips. They still tingled, swollen and raw from him.

That kiss… god, that kiss…it felt like everything I’d ever wanted. Safe. Fierce. Loving.

But Luke’s kiss was still there too, haunting me, burning like a wound. His desperation, his broken confession.

Theo was peace. Luke was chaos.

And I was split wide open between them.

I rolled over, shoving my face into the pillow, whispering to no one. “I don’t know what to do.”

Sleep never came. Only the memory of Theo’s mouth on mine, and the taste of guilt I couldn’t scrub out no matter how hard I bit my lip.────────────────Later that morning, I startled awake to a crash at my door.

“Rise and shine, lover boy!”

Min’s voice. Loud. Annoyingly chipper. My eyes cracked open just as my blankets were yanked clean off me.

“Jesus Christ!” I yelped, curling up against the sudden cold.

Min loomed over me, grinning like a demon. “It’s match day! You didn’t seriously think I was going to let you mope in bed while Theo’s out there playing the most important game of his life?”

I rubbed my eyes, groaning. “It’s…what time is it?”

“Ten past nine,” Min said cheerfully. “Plenty of time to get ready before kickoff. Now, up!”

Before I could argue, another whirlwind stormed in. Yuki. She had glitter paint streaked on her cheek and an armful of cardboard tucked under her arm.

“Troy!” she sang, dropping the pile on my desk. “We’re making signs.”

“What?” I croaked.

“Signs!” she repeated, as if I were dense. “You know … ‘Go Theo!’, ‘Ashgrave Pride!’, that sort of thing. Every proper fan has a sign. We are not showing up half-hearted.”

“I—”

“Don’t argue,” Min cut in, tugging me by the wrist until I sat up. “She’s scarier than she looks.”

Yuki pointed a paintbrush at me like a weapon. “He’s right.” Then she shoved it into my hand. “Now. Write something.”

The next thirty minutes were chaos.

Yuki spread cardboard across the floor, dumping jars of neon paint in the middle. Min immediately started sketching caricatures of Theo’s face, which looked more like a deformed potato than a human being. Yuki kept critiquing his lack of artistic skill, which only made him double down, painting Theo with giant anime eyes and a cape.

“Because he’s our hero,” Min said solemnly, holding up the monstrosity.

I couldn’t help it… I laughed. Loud and sudden, spilling out of me before I could stop it. Yuki clapped, triumphant.

“There it is!” she declared. “The Troy laugh. I knew we’d dig it out eventually.”

I shook my head, cheeks burning. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously supportive,” Min corrected. He dipped a brush into blue paint and swiped it across my cheek like war paint before I could dodge.

“Min!”

He smirked. “Now you look ready.”

“Ready to murder you,” I muttered, wiping at it with the back of my hand. But the smile tugging at my mouth betrayed me.

Yuki was bent over her own poster, tongue sticking out in concentration as she wrote Theo #10 — My Captain, My King. She decorated it with glitter stars. Min groaned.

“Subtle,” he said.

“Shut up,” Yuki replied sweetly, sprinkling more glitter for emphasis.

Mine ended up simple… bold block letters spelling Go Theo! with Ashgrave’s colors streaked in the background. Min leaned over to inspect. “See? That’s how you know it’s real. Simple, straight from the heart. None of this glitter monarchy nonsense.”

Yuki threw a paintbrush at him. He ducked, laughing.

For a while, the room buzzed with easy noise. Paintbrushes clattering, Yuki humming, Min cracking stupid jokes. It felt normal. Light. Almost enough to drown out the ache in my chest.

Almost.

Every so often, I caught Min watching me. Not judging. Just…watching. Like he was measuring the slope of my shoulders, the quiet between my smiles. Each time, he said nothing, just went back to his sign, but the weight of it pressed against me. He knew. He always knew.

By the time we were finished, the posters looked like a chaotic mix of kindergarten art projects and actual fan memorabilia. Yuki insisted on taking pictures, forcing Min and me to hold our signs and pose like idiots.

“Smile, Troy,” she demanded.

I managed something close to one.

Then Min slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close just as Yuki snapped another shot. His voice dropped so only I could hear.

“Good, huh? Almost like you’re not dying inside.”

I stiffened, forcing my smile to hold. “Shut up,” I muttered.

He squeezed my shoulder, steady. “Just remember. You don’t have to figure it all out today. Just…cheer for him. Be there. Start there.”

I swallowed hard. Couldn’t answer.

Yuki was already at the door, waving her sparkly monstrosity. “Come on! If we’re not there early, we won’t get decent seats.”

Min released me, his usual grin snapping back into place. “You heard the lady. Let’s go.”

We gathered our signs, brushing glitter and paint off our hands, and headed out together.

The campus was buzzing as we walked… clusters of students in Ashgrave colors, faces painted, chanting as they streamed toward the stadium. Excitement fizzed in the air, contagious.

Yuki skipped ahead, her sign bobbing. Min walked beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed now and then, grounding without making a show of it.

And me? I clutched my simple Go Theo! poster like a lifeline, my chest tight, my lips still tingling from a kiss I wanted too much and a kiss I never should have let happen.

But I walked anyway. To the stadium. To Theo. To whatever waited on the other side.

────────────────Everything Meant Nothing | Part 23: Match Day