Deja Vu

Micah jolted awake, his heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to escape. His dream lingered in fragments—soft hands on his body, the whispered words of a lover, and a voice murmuring, 'Callum.'

"What the fuuu—" 

Before he could finish the expletive, his bedroom door slammed open. 

"What the fuck!?" Micah yelped, fumbling to grab a pillow and throwing it over his very obvious morning wood. 

"What the fuck!?" Rosa echoed, wide-eyed and ready for battle, a half-eaten waffle in one hand and the other balled into a fist like she'd charge at an intruder if necessary. 

"Rosa, what are you doing!?" Micah shouted, his voice cracking. 

Elle stepped into the room behind Rosa, much calmer, and placed a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. "We heard you scream," she said evenly, holding Rosa back. "Are you okay?" 

Micah groaned and let himself fall back onto his bed, the pillow still clutched over his lap. "I'm fine." 

Even as he said it, his heart was racing so fast it felt like it might explode. His skin was damp with sweat and his body was still on edge from the vividness of the dream. 

Rosa narrowed her eyes. "You're such a terrible liar!" 

"Rosa," Elle said, her tone reprimanding. 

"What? He is!" Rosa shot back, pointing at him like she was presenting evidence to a jury. 

"Still, you can't just say that…"

Micah ignored their bickering and reached for his glasses on the bedside table. As he slid them on, he noticed a folded piece of paper tucked beneath them. He picked it up and opened it, skimming the note: 

'Had to leave for Switzerland. You looked so peaceful sleeping, didn't want to wake you. Will be back within the week. In the meantime, something is going to be delivered to you today. Don't ask what, it's a surprise. 

All my love, D.'

Micah groaned again, letting the note flutter to his lap. Now that he had a situation Damian would've loved to 'handle,' said boyfriend wasn't even here. 

He turned to Rosa and Elle, who were still standing in the doorway. "I'm fine, guys. Really. I just had a weird dream." 

Rosa raised an eyebrow. "Care to share?" 

Micah's mind flashed to the dream—Caelan's hands on him, Callum's face leaning closer, those dark eyes full of unspoken emotions. His cheeks burned hotter than the sun. "I can't really remember it," he lied quickly. 

"I call bullsh—" Rosa began, but Elle pinched her butt, cutting her off so she ended her sentence with a yelp.

"If you want to talk, we're here for you," Elle said kindly, shooting Rosa a look. 

Micah offered a faint smile. "Thanks, Elle." 

"Joining us for breakfast?" Elle asked. 

Micah's stomach twisted uncomfortably. The thought of food made the lingering anxiety from his dream churn into something heavier, colder. "Thanks, but I'm not really hungry." 

Rosa opened her mouth, no doubt to argue, but Elle clamped her hand over her girlfriend's face before she could say a word. "I'll leave some waffles out for you," Elle said, gently pulling Rosa out of the room. 

Before they could leave, Micah hesitated, his fingers tightening around the edge of his blanket. "Have you guys ever had déjà vu… for moments that couldn't have possibly happened?" 

Rosa managed to free her mouth from Elle's hand long enough to say, "Where I'm from, those are called delusions!" 

Elle covered her girlfriend's mouth again and smiled apologetically. "Can't say I have." 

Micah sighed. "Okay. Thanks for checking up on me." 

Elle pulled Rosa out of the room and shut the door behind them. 

Micah ran his fingers through his hair, staring at the ceiling. What the fuck was that dream? 

Was it some weird consequence of designing an OC who looked so similar to his very attractive boss? Was his brain just playing tricks on him, mixing reality and fiction until he couldn't tell the difference? 

If Damian knew about the dream, he wouldn't be happy. Micah sighed and sat up, tossing the note aside. He needed to redesign Caelan, to erase any trace of Callum from the character. 

But first, he had to take care of his… problem. 

Micah stood and glanced down at his still-persistent erection. "If only Damian was here," he muttered, heading to the shared bathroom down the hall. 

The cold shower helped, though it did little to settle the unease in his chest. He got dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie before retreating back to his room, trying to ignore the smell of waffles and the sound of Rosa and Elle's chatter coming from the kitchen. 

Sitting at his desk, Micah opened his sketchbook and flipped to the page with Caelan's design. He stared at the familiar features: the sharp jawline, the tousled dark hair, the intense eyes that now felt like they were staring back at him. 

Micah picked up his pencil and started erasing. He softened the jawline, changed the hairstyle, adjusted the nose—but no matter what he did, the changes felt wrong. Every adjustment made Caelan look less like himself, like he wasn't Caelan anymore. 

Frustrated, Micah set the pencil down and leaned back in his chair. His phone buzzed on the desk, and he picked it up to see Damian's name flashing on the screen. 

Micah groaned as he answered, "You left me!" 

Damian chuckled on the other end. "You were so tired, I didn't want to wake you." 

"You could've at least kissed me goodbye," Micah huffed. 

"After all we did last night, I didn't think you needed any more… kisses," Damian said, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. 

Micah's face burned. Last night had been… intense. Sex with Damian had always been explosive. Earth shattering. But his boyfriend had been more possessive than usual, his touches harder, his kisses rougher; like he was trying to fuck the fear of god into Micah. Micah's body still felt sore from it. 

"Damiaaaan," Micah whined, his voice half-embarrassed, half-pleading. 

Damian laughed. "So, what are you up to?" 

Micah glanced at his sketchbook, at the smudge of lead from where he'd over-erased. "Trying to redesign an OC. You?" 

"Getting dressed. I have a meeting soon," Damian said. 

Micah's heart sank. "You're leaving?" 

"It's just a quick thing," Damian reassured him. "I just wanted to hear your voice before I go. For good luck." 

Micah's disappointment melted into guilt. Damian worked so hard, and he needed Micah's support, not his complaints. "Good luck," he said softly. 

"Thanks, babe. Have you eaten today?" 

Micah hesitated, then decided not to lie—not after what happened last night. "Not yet." 

"Promise me you will," Damian said, his tone firm but affectionate. 

"I will," Micah promised. "I love you." 

"Love you too," Damian replied before ending the call. 

Micah set his phone down and sighed, picking up his pencil again. But after another twenty minutes of trying to redesign Caelan, the results were the same. Frustrated, he tossed the sketchbook aside and grabbed his VR goggles. 

"Welcome back, MicDrop23," the system greeted him as he booted up 'Pantheon: Lord of the Dead.'

He spawned into a save point inside his favorite game, the interior of an Ancient Greek inn. The soft glow of lanterns and the quiet hum of background music should've been comforting, but Micah's mind was elsewhere. 

On impulse, he opened the 'Find Friends' tab and typed in the gamertag: SirPierceALot. 

A green light appeared beside the name. Callum was online. 

Micah hesitated. He shouldn't. Not after that dream. Not after what happened with Damian. 

But before he could stop himself, his fingers moved on their own, sending the friend request. 

The acceptance was almost instant. 

Micah's heart jumped as a new message appeared in his inbox: 

'Hello, Micah Liu.'