The rain had stopped, no longer pounding the windows with its relentless fury, but somehow the silence felt worse. Sunlight streamed into the room in soft, warming rays, yet Daniel felt none of its comfort. The light only mocked him, illuminating the space where just hours ago, everything had seemed so dark. He sat there, still caught in the suffocating gloom that refused to lift, even as nature carried on its indifferent cycle. It was as if the world outside was laughing at his inability to match its pace, to move on as easily as the storm clouds had. Here he was, stuck in the aftermath of his own personal tempest, pretending he belonged in this world of warmth and beauty when all he could feel was the cold ache of failure.
He ran a hand over his face, trying to massage away the tension that had settled in his temples. He hadn’t been able to sleep for long, not properly at least, and it showed. He heard Alex downstairs, his voice hoarse with the echoes of tears, mingling with the hushed comforts from their friends. They really were the best, showing up like this, and Daniel knew it. He had never truly appreciated the truth in that old Dutch saying until now: "It's better to have a good neighbour than a distant friend." It was one of those things his mother-in-law had hammered into him after the move. Funny, he thought, how her heavy Dutch accent still rang so clear in his mind, like a bell tolling wisdom he hadn't realized he'd needed. Anne and Joost had proven her right. They weren’t just neighbours anymore—they were family. And family was what had kept Alex from crumbling completely.
Daniel wished he could say the same for himself. But all he could think was, Why? Why had this happened again?
He had been doing everything right—or so he’d thought. Sure, he was stressed sometimes, but wasn't everyone? This setback, this relapse into darkness, felt like a betrayal. He had run so far, for so long, only for it to catch up to him again. The fear that he was still that helpless man, who couldn’t outrun his own demons, terrified him. What if this time, he couldn't escape? What if this time, he wouldn’t make it?
“You’re up,” Alex’s voice was soft as he entered the room, and Daniel jolted slightly, lost in thought. He hadn’t even heard him come in. “I thought you were still asleep. I’ve been downstairs with Anne and Joost,” Alex’s smile was small, the kind of smile you wear when you’re trying not to break, “They brought muffins from Birdflower—your favourite.” He set the basket down, his eyes lingering there a little too long before he turned away. “They really are the best, aren’t they?”
Daniel saw it immediately—Alex’s red-rimmed eyes, the lines of exhaustion that hadn’t been there before. He could feel the weight of his own guilt rising like bile in his throat. “How are you feeling, D?” Alex’s voice broke slightly as he sat at the edge of the bed, finally facing him.
“You’ve been crying,” Daniel said softly, his throat tightening. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I know this has been a lot.”
The words felt empty, too simple to encompass the depth of what had happened. He saw how the darkness had seeped into Alex, how it had bled through him, tainting the light they had once shared. And worse, Daniel knew he was the cause of it.
Alex stopped him before he could spiral further. “Hey, it’s alright. Yes, it’s a lot, but I kinda love you, you know?” Alex’s voice was shaky, and he turned away again, unable to meet Daniel’s eyes.
Daniel felt a sharp wrench in his chest. “Alex, thank you… for everything. But you’re crying, and I hate that I’m the cause of this pain, hurting you.”
Alex crawled up next to him, his body sinking into the space beside Daniel’s, fitting as if they’d never been apart. Daniel held him close, feeling Alex’s body tremble against his own. “I’m ok. I really am,” Daniel said, his voice barely a whisper as Alex’s sobs grew louder, rawer.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” Alex choked out. “I didn’t know what to do, D. It was horrible. I’m sorry… I know it’s not about me.”
Daniel tightened his arms around him, pushing through the physical pain, though the emotional pain of seeing Alex like this hurt far more. “I know…I’m grateful you were here, but I hate that I put you through this. Again.”
Alex pulled back slightly, his wide, bloodshot eyes searching Daniel’s face. “This time was worse. I—I didn’t even know you were struggling. How did I not know? We may not be together anymore, but I should have known.”
Daniel’s heart twisted, tears pricking at his own eyes now. “I didn’t even know,” he said, stroking Alex’s hair, the soft, dark curls reminding him of better days, gentler moments. “None of this is your fault. You’ve always been there for me. We may not be together, but we still have each other, don’t we?”
He kissed Alex’s forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his lips, the subtle scent of his shampoo bringing a strange comfort. For a moment, it was like nothing had changed between them. Just two men, tangled in love and pain, trying to survive another day.
“You need to rest too, Alex,” Daniel said, his voice tender as he tried to force a smile. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Alex hesitated, his eyes searching Daniel’s face for any sign of a lie. Then, with a tired nod, he relented. “Okay. I’ll just take a nap, but I’m leaving the doors open, alright?”
Daniel forced a laugh. “Of course. I’ll just make some calls.”
As Alex left, kissing him gently on the head, Daniel could feel the weight settle back over him, heavier now that he was alone.
He reached for his phone, which had sat untouched on the nightstand, blinking with missed notifications—three missed calls, eleven messages, and a flood of emails that would have to wait. He opened Spotify first, the familiar classical playlist filling the room with a sense of calm he desperately needed.
His eyes fell on Lara’s name, the most recent message waiting for him like a lifeline. “I just talked with Alex darling, I am so glad you are okay, I love you, call me when you’re feeling better, sorry for the calls, I just panicked, you know your little Lala, always so dramatic, I just love you, I said that didn’t I, lol, Everyone is thinking about you, God be with you.”
Daniel smiled for the first time in what felt like forever, imagining her voice, her dramatic flair. She always had a way of making everything feel lighter, even in moments like these. “Just woke up. Thank you, I am good. I’ll call you tomorrow, little Lala. Love you too,” he replied, his chest loosening just a bit.
Then his eyes fell on Michal’s name. Six unread messages. His heart skipped. He opened them, skimming through before sending a quick response. “I am so sorry, I’m just seeing these now. Had a little accident, nothing serious. Haha, I’m just resting now. Hope you’re enjoying Haarlem. Looking forward to Tuesday. Can’t wait to kiss you again.”
But the words felt hollow. As Clair de Lune played softly in the background, the melody seemed different, sadder now, as if it were mourning something too. He switched the song, trying to shut out the storm still raging inside him, but it wasn’t working.
What is Michal doing in Haarlem?
***
Daniel stared at the phone, his jaw tightening as the seconds ticked by in an almost mocking rhythm. His message still sat unread. He could feel the tension in his body building, frustration weaving through every muscle, but it wasn’t just about the message. It was about Michal, his maddening aloofness, and the fact that for once in his life, Daniel wasn’t in control of the situation.
He put the phone down again, pushing through the pain as he stood and limped across the room. The silence around him felt oppressive, his mind refusing to quiet. The more he tried to distract himself, the more his thoughts circled back to Michal—his mysterious smile, the way he seemed to keep just enough distance to leave Daniel wanting more.
Why won’t he let me in?
It wasn’t like Daniel to be unsure. People had always flocked to him—he had spent years with the world at his feet, adored, envied. Even in his moments of weakness, his status had granted him power, leverage. But with Michal, none of it seemed to matter. No amount of wealth, charm, or beauty seemed to be enough to crack the boy’s shell.
He limped into the bathroom, catching sight of himself in the mirror. The bandage on his forehead was a stark reminder of his vulnerability. His reflection didn’t feel like his own—he looked exhausted, his face pale and drawn. It wasn’t the image of the man he had built himself to be. This was someone else—someone weaker, who wasn’t in control of his own narrative.
He leaned closer, studying the lines around his eyes, the faint bruising beneath them. He had always been handsome, and for years, that had been both a blessing and a curse. He knew his looks had opened doors for him, made life easier in ways he couldn’t deny. But they had also trapped him, made him a prisoner of others’ expectations. And now, staring at his reflection, he wondered if his beauty had ever been more than just a mask, hiding the cracks that were always there.
His phone buzzed, and his heart leapt. He hobbled back to the bed, his pulse quickening, but it wasn’t Michal. Just another work notification, as if the universe were toying with him. He collapsed back onto the mattress, rubbing his temples in frustration.
What am I even doing? he thought bitterly. Waiting around for some kid to text me back? This isn’t me. This isn’t who I am.
But even as he thought it, he knew he was lying to himself. He was invested—more than he wanted to admit. There was something about Michal that had gotten under his skin, something that had drawn him in deeper than anyone had in a long time. And it wasn’t just physical. There was an intensity to Michal, a mystery that Daniel couldn’t shake.
He remembered the first time he had seen Michal smile, that crooked grin that was both playful and guarded at the same time. It had left Daniel feeling off-balance, like he was the one doing the chasing, for once, instead of the other way around. It had been intoxicating, and terrifying.
And now he’s in Haarlem, Daniel thought, his frustration mounting. Doing God knows what. With who knows who.
He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to shake the intrusive thoughts. He needed to stop spiralling, needed to find something to focus on, anything other than the gnawing uncertainty about Michal. But every time he tried to let it go, the questions came rushing back. Why wasn’t Michal here? Why wasn’t he with him in Amsterdam, Haarlem? Why hadn’t he invited him? Why did he feel so completely in the dark about what was happening?
Daniel grabbed his MacBook, forcing himself to open his emails, scrolling through them without really seeing the words. He told himself he was being productive, that he was moving on with his day, but the reality was, his mind kept drifting back to that unanswered message.
He’s probably with someone else. The thought gripped him again, and he hated himself for it. He wasn’t usually the jealous type—at least, that’s what he had always told himself. But Michal had brought something out of him, a possessiveness he wasn’t used to feeling.
The more Daniel tried to rationalize it, the worse it got. What if Michal had found someone else? What if all of this had just been a game?
A wave of bitterness washed over him. He was Daniel Dansson—people didn’t just move on from him. They didn’t forget him. And yet here he was, feeling cast aside, waiting on a message that might never come.
He tossed the laptop aside and stood up again, pacing the room despite the pain in his foot. The ache was good—it gave him something else to focus on, something real. His body was recovering, but his mind was unravelling, piece by piece.
He hobbled back to the bathroom, splashing more water on his face, as if the cold would somehow wash away the thoughts clinging to him.
And then, without warning, a memory surfaced. Not of Michal, but of a woman from his past. Bára. He could barely recall the details now, but he remembered the intensity of her gaze, the way she had looked at him once, years ago, like she knew something he didn’t. He shook the thought away, focusing instead on the immediate present.
I’m overthinking this, he told himself, but even as he tried to convince himself, the nagging doubt refused to go away.
