Hands On

Callum leaned back in his office chair, staring at the ceiling as the events of the past day replayed in his mind. He shouldn't have taken Micah to the Aeryndale patch. 

The decision had been impulsive. One moment, he'd been in the Glades of Helios, petting Suncows and wondering if he wanted to join a raid. The next, Micah's friend request had popped up on his screen. He should've ignored it. Should've left things professional. But he hadn't. 

He'd wanted to see him. 

To see if there were any remnants of Ashur left in Micah. 

Callum pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. And there were. Parts of the man he loved were still in there. But… 

"I don't understand why you're so nice to me." 

"I want to go back to the person I was before you." 

"We need boundaries." 

Each line had felt like a knife to the chest. Micah didn't want anything to do with him anymore. That should've made things easier, right? But it didn't. If anything, it made everything worse. 

Now, Callum had to drive Micah home this evening, knowing full well how unwanted his presence was. It was going to be so awkward but he couldn't risk Micah walking alone again. Not after that night. Not after seeing the fear in his eyes, feeling the way he'd clung to Callum like his life depended on it. 

Even if being around Micah hurt, even if it chipped away at Callum in ways he couldn't explain, keeping him safe mattered more. 

A sharp knock jolted Callum from his thoughts. 

No, not a knock. The door swung open, slamming against the wall, and Genesis strode in like she owned the place. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, her hands on her hips. 

"Hello, Genesis," Callum said dryly. "I really appreciate you knocking." 

She ignored his sarcasm and marched up to his desk. "We're setting up for LevelUp— nice, a rhyme. Anyways, what are you doing?" 

He gestured to his monitor. "Working." 

"Uh-huh." Genesis tilted her head, clearly unimpressed. "Well, you need to be outside. Now." 

"And why is that?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. 

"Because you're the CEO, duh," she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I know how much you love brooding in the dark like, okay, Batman, but your presence out there will boost morale. Also, we need hands. Ryan helped set up chairs, for crying out loud." 

Callum sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hated public events like this. But Genesis wasn't wrong. His employees would benefit from seeing him out there working with him. Besides, if the event was a disaster, it would reflect on him. 

"Fine," he muttered. 

Genesis grinned, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the chair. "Let's go." 

---

The park near the Catalyst plaza was a hive of activity. Rows of booths were being set up, banners hung between trees, and tables were being prepped for the gaming consoles and laptops that would be arranged under colourful tents. Employees bustled about, carrying supplies and chatting excitedly. 

Genesis clapped her hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, everyone! The big boss is here to help!" 

A small cheer went up from the crowd, and Callum shifted uncomfortably, his face heating. Public speaking wasn't his forte, but he forced himself to say something. 

"Thank you for your hard work so far," he said, his voice even. "Let's make sure this event is a success." 

His gaze flicked across the group, and he spotted Micah near the back, kneeling over a canvas spread across the grass. Their eyes met briefly, but Micah quickly looked away, his expression unreadable. 

Genesis scanned her clipboard. "Alright, Callum, you'll be working on the mural with Micah Liu over there." 

Callum's heart sank. "You can't pair me with him," he said quickly. 

Genesis arched a brow. "Why not?" 

Callum opened his mouth to respond but couldn't think of a valid excuse that didn't make it sound like he and Micah had something going on. After a beat, he settled on, "I have no artistic abilities." 

"That's a lie, Callum. I've seen you draw," Genesis replied matter-of-factly. "You're no Da Vinci, but if you can handle a hand turkey, you can help with a mural. Now go." She thrust a can of red paint into his hands and turned away. 

"Wait—" 

But Genesis was already storming off, "Hugo! I said red wire before green wire! No, you can't mix them up!"

Callum sighed, the paint can feeling heavier in his hand than it should. With no other choice, he made his way over to where Micah was crouched. 

Micah was wearing one of those Catalyst T-shirts they put in the gift bags, paint splatters dotting the fabric. His headphones rested around his neck, blaring pop-punk music loud enough for Callum to make out the lyrics. He was focused, his brush moving across the canvas with quick, practiced strokes. His forehead glistened with sweat, strands of brown hair sticking to his skin. 

Callum's shadow fell over him, and Micah glanced up. His brows furrowed briefly before his expression smoothed into polite neutrality. 

"Mr. Pierce," he said, his tone clipped. 

Callum swallowed back the urge to correct him. Normally, this was the part where he'd remind Micah to just call him 'Callum.' But now? Nah, he couldn't do that. Boundaries. 

Instead, he nodded. "Micah Liu." 

Micah's gaze flicked to the paint can in Callum's hand, then back up to his face. "Don't tell me."

"Genesis made me," Callum replied, deadpan.

Micah sighed, setting his brush down. He reached behind him, grabbing an apron and tossing it toward Callum. "Well, grab a brush." 

Callum caught the apron and slipped it over his head, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He crouched beside Micah, the grass cool against his knees, and picked up a spare brush. 

They worked in silence at first, the only sounds between them the faint scrape of bristles on canvas and the muffled bassline from Micah's headphones. Callum hated every moment of it. He couldn't think of a moment when they weren't talking to each other, when Micah's green eyes didn't look at him with shock and awe. Now, it was like he wasn't even here. Micah was completely in his own world.

Callum tried to focus on the mural, but his gaze kept drifting toward Micah. The younger man was so precise, so deliberate with every stroke. His fingers were steady, his brows furrowed in concentration. 

"Your perspective's off," Micah said, his voice soft but firm. He didn't look up, his focus entirely on the canvas.

Callum blinked, startled. "What?"

Micah gestured toward the swirl of red on Callum's section, which looked more like a smudge than part of a flower. "It's too flat. Here—" He reached over before Callum could react, guiding his hand to adjust the angle of the brush.

The brief touch made Callum's breath catch. Micah's hand was steady, his fingers warm even through the slight disconnect of touch in the real world. Callum's pulse stuttered in response, a spark of something unspoken lingering between them.

Micah pulled his hand back abruptly, his face neutral as he returned to his own section of the mural. But the flush crawling up his neck betrayed him.

"Thanks," Callum said quietly, his voice rough.

Micah didn't reply.

The silence stretched on, thick and awkward. 

Callum swallowed hard and went back to painting the flowers the 'right' way. Genesis was right. He was no Da'Vinci but painting was therapeutic and he got lost in the motion of dipping his brush into paint, smearing paint against the canvas and switching the brush to repeat the process. Why did he ever stop drawing. This was fun.

He reached over for the can of yellow paint and—

"Shit." 

Callum looked up to find Micah seated up on his knees staring down at the mess of paint on his crotch. The mess of yellow paint on his crotch… Yello paint that was dripping from Callum's brush.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry," Callum hurriedly said, reaching down.

His hand froze. Reaching down to do what? Stroke the paint of Micah's dick?

"It's fine," Micah muttered, his cheeks tinged pink. 

He looked down at the hand hovering above his crotch and Callum pulled it back like he'd been burned. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

"It's fine, Mr. Pierce," Micah said carefully, shifting further away from him. "Paint splattered jeans are in."

"Well, I don't imagine you'd want a bright yellow target on your balls," Callum said, without thinking.

"Callum!" Micah's eyes widened like he'd been electrocuted and Callum mentally face palmed himself. Was he always this socially inept or did Micah bring it out in him?

"I'm sorry," he repeated, for the third time.

Micah pushed his glasses up his nose and a pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. "I—"

"Hugo! Do you want to blow us all up!?" Genesis yelled from across the green, interrupting whatever Micah had been about to say.

The intern shut his mouth but the smile on his lips was unmistakable. This was how Callum found out that Micah, like Ashur, didn't know how to hide his amusement. It was all in the eyes. They scrunched up whenever he was holding back a laugh.

Callum raised a brow. "What's so funny?" 

"Nothing," Micah said, shaking his head. 

"Micah Liu…"

"Callum Pierce…" Micah drawled with the same tone. He snorted out a laugh and Callum's heart stuttered. 

Micah could not ask him to keep distance between them when he teased Callum like that. It wasn't fair. Micah's smile had the same effect as it always had. Different time, different body, but it still hit him the same way it had when Ashur laughed beside a crackling fire in the dark corners of the castle.

The memories came unbidden, and Callum shoved them aside. This wasn't Ashur. And he wasn't Caelan.

As if he realised what he was doing, Micah's face went pale. He scooted another inch away from Callum and looked more than grateful when someone called out, "Micah! Can you measure where the next canvas should go on stage?" 

Micah stood, wiping his hands on his apron. "Yeah, one sec!" 

He grabbed a tape measure and ran toward a ladder propped up near the stage. 

Callum followed, frowning slightly. "I could do it," he offered. 

Micah waved him off. "I got it." 

Callum's frown deepened. "You don't have to—" 

"Callum, I'm fine," Micah snapped, cutting him off. His voice was sharper than he intended, but there was a defiance in his tone that made it clear he didn't want Callum's help. 

Callum hesitated, then stepped back, his jaw tightening. 

Micah climbed the ladder quickly, determination stiffening his movements. The tape measure dangled precariously from his wrist as he reached the top, muttering numbers under his breath.

Callum hovered nearby, his brows furrowed. "Be careful," he called out.

Micah shot him an annoyed look. "I said I've got it." But even as the words left his mouth, his foot wavered against the next rung. The ladder shifted slightly beneath him, a faint creak breaking through the noise of the park.

Callum's stomach tightened. Something felt off. He opened his mouth to say something, but before the words came, Micah moved again—too fast, too determined. His foot slipped off the rung.

"Micah!" Callum shouted, his heart lurching.

Micah's arms flailed as he lost his balance, the tape measure clattering to the ground. 

And then he fell.