Bunnyman vs. Boyfriend 

The first thing they had to do was relieve their stand-in from her post and wait for their shift at the face-painting booth to end. Or at least, Micah had to wait for it to end. Callum was just helping him out, and Damian—being the perfect golden boyfriend he was—didn't seem to mind sticking around. He stood just behind Micah, leaning casually against Micah's chair, his perfect posture and easy grin drawing glances from every passerby. 

Callum's knuckles tightened around the paintbrush in his hand as he forced himself to focus on painting yet another tiger face on yet another giggling child. Micah stood beside him, cleaning up the brushes, humming softly under his breath like he didn't have a care in the world. 

Meanwhile, Damian, the thorn in Callum's side, was doing everything in his power to annoy him. He wasn't subtle about it, either. He was talking Micah up, making him laugh with little inside jokes, his deep, silky voice practically dripping with charm. Whenever there were no kids waiting in line, Damian would sneak a kiss on Micah's cheek or whisper something that made Micah blush and squirm adorably. 

It was infuriating. 

Callum glanced up briefly as Damian leaned down to murmur something in Micah's ear, the latter letting out a giggle that made Callum's heart twist painfully in his chest. Why was he even here? Wasn't Damian supposed to be on a business trip? Sure, he'd said he wanted to surprise Micah, but Callum had been having such a nice day with him before this interloper came along and ruined everything. 

Damian didn't even seem bothered by the fury radiating off of Callum, in fact, he seemed to bask in it. The way he kept glancing at Callum, making sure he was watching every kiss, every touch, every laugh, was maddening. It was like he'd come all this way just to make Callum jealous. And damn it, it was working. 

Callum didn't think he'd ever known jealousy like this before. It burned hot and sharp, twisting in his gut and pooling in his chest, threatening to spill out if he let his guard down for even a second. He hadn't felt this way about anyone since… 

Since some bastard started flirting with Ashur. 

His grip on the paintbrush faltered for a moment, a flicker of a memory flashing in his mind—Ashur laughing, his head thrown back, sunlight catching in the strands of his dark hair. He couldn't even remember said 'bastards' name or face. All Callum could remember was that that laugh was supposed to be just for him. 

The child in front of him wriggled impatiently, snapping him back to the present. He gritted his teeth, finishing the face painting with the most delicate movements he could manage. 

This wasn't him. He didn't get jealous. He didn't let emotions like this control him. 

Except he wasn't just him anymore, was he? 

If he were still Prince Caelan, heir to the throne of Aeryndale, he might have just grabbed Micah and kissed him in front of Damian. To remind Damian of exactly who Micah belonged to.

The thought startled him, and for a moment, his hand froze. In his head, he could almost hear Ashur's exasperated voice: 'If you're so jealous, stop sulking and do something about it.'

But this wasn't then. He was Callum Pierce now, not Caelan. He was Micah's boss, and making out with a man in public—especially one who was already taken—was a surefire way to destroy his career and any chance he might have of a future with Micah. 

Still, the longing refused to be ignored and it swirled darkly underneath his skin as he washed the last of the face paint off his hands. Moments like this had been happening more frequently, these strange flashes of his past life creeping into his mind like whispers from a half-remembered dream. 

The taste of honey-soaked quail. Ashur's secret bird watching hobby (which he found more embarrassing than his drawing hobby). The way Edric's real laugh had sounded—warm and unrestrained, not the practiced chuckle he used in court. Each memory came with the same ear-splitting headache.

Behind him, Micah laughed at another one of Damian's jokes and Callum felt annoyed all over again.

Maybe he should have stayed in his office. Coming out here was a mistake. 

"Callum!" Micah's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Micah pouting at him, his arms crossed. "Come on, we don't have all day!" 

Damian smirked from where he stood with his arms slung casually around Micah's waist. "Can't we just leave him here, babe?" 

Micah elbowed him in the ribs, earning a short puff of breath and a mock grimace. "Don't be mean. Callum is our friend. Friends stick together." 

Callum rolled his eyes as he grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands. He didn't remember agreeing to be friends with Damian Wells. Judging by Damian's frustrated huff, he was thinking the same thing. 

Micah didn't seem to notice the tension simmering between them as he tugged Damian forward. "Come on! Let's find a game to play." 

The three of them wove their way through the maze of booths and stalls set up in the park, Micah walking between them like a terrier puppy being guarded by two Rottweilers. His excitement was palpable, his eyes darting from stall to stall as he babbled about the games he wanted to try. 

"Why don't we let Callum pick first?" Damian said, his tone far too pleasant. 

Micah pouted. "No fair…" 

Callum tuned them out, hyper-aware of the way people were staring. A group of women giggled as they passed by, their eyes lingering a little too long on the three of them. Callum told himself it was because of Damian and his runway-worthy looks, but the knot in his stomach refused to loosen. 

"Excuse me," a soft voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see two women holding a poster. "Could you… sign this? Please?" 

Callum's lips curved into a polite smile. "Of course." 

They handed him the poster and Callum was annoyed to find that it was one of Aphrodite from his game in both her original and male forms. Damian leaned over his shoulder and looked down at the painting of the half naked goddess/god of love. 

"Oh, I remember him," he said, chuckling sultrily.

Callum ignored him as he signed the poster quickly and handed it back. 

"So," he said, clearing his throat, "what are we playing?" 

Damian's smirk widened. "I found a booth using haptic tech to simulate sword fighting." 

Micah perked up. "Sword fighting? That sounds fun!" 

"I was thinking just Callum and I could play."

Micah's joy instantly soured. "No fair."

Damian looked down at him, his gaze softening. "Oh, don't be like that, babe. Have you eaten today?" 

Micah's face turned bright red as he avoided his boyfriend's gaze. "Maybe…" 

"'Maybe' is not a yes," Damian said firmly. He leaned down, pressing a deep kiss to Micah's lips. Micah moaned softly into the kiss, his fingers curling into Damian's shirt as if to keep himself grounded. 

Callum's jaw tightened as he turned away, his hands curling into fists at his sides. 

Damian broke the kiss with a soft hum, brushing his thumb over Micah's kiss-swollen lips. "How about once Callum and I have a go at the game, we'll grab lunch. Then you can challenge me to any contest you want." 

Micah's face lit up. "Really?" 

Damian nodded, his voice a low murmur. "Of course, my prince." 

Callum bit back the growl threatening to escape his throat. "So, where's this game?" 

Damian smirked, gesturing behind Callum. "We're already here." 

Callum turned to find a wide tent fitted with a large visual panel displaying two knights engaged in clumsy combat. The teenagers wielding the haptic swords were wildly flailing, their movements barely coordinated. 

The attendant perked up as he saw Callum. "Mr. Pierce! I didn't know you were coming." 

"Slow hour?" Callum asked, glancing at the near-empty tent. 

The man sighed. "Yeah, I think those two scared off the crowd. They're… not great." 

Damian grinned. "We'd like to give it a try." 

The attendant's eyes lit up. "Of course!" 

After a few more minutes of horrible combat, the teens shuffled off and Callum and Damian were fitted into the lightweight vests. From the sidelines, Micah cheered, "Go Damian! Kick his butt!" 

Then, "Go Callum! Equally kick his butt!" 

Callum couldn't help but smile at that, and Damian chuckled. "You're so fair, babe." 

As the attendant adjusted Damian's vest, the man turned to Callum, his expression sharpening. He pulled his long blonde hair back, using a thin rubber band to tie it into a neat bun.

"Do you have any hobbies, Callum?" 

Callum frowned. "I used to ride horses, but I had to quit. Now I just… make games." He raised a brow. "You?" 

"Sword fighting," Damian said simply, his smirk deepening as the attendant stepped away. 

Before Callum could react, the speakers boomed: "Fight!" 

Damian charged. 

Callum's body moved on instinct, his sword clashing against Damian's with a resounding thud. It was as if his muscles knew what to do, even if his mind was scrambling to keep up. 

Damian was relentless, his strikes precise and calculated. Callum managed to block and parry, but each movement sent shocks up his arms, his grip on the haptic sword faltering. 

"Fight back," Damian hissed, their faces inches apart. 

The words struck him like lightning. 

"Fight back, coward!" 

A memory slammed into him with visceral force— an empty training lot, his hands around a bloodied sword, his fathers voice shouting angrily from the sidelines, "If you don't fight back, you'll die! If you don't die, I'll kill you myself!"

Callum's breath hitched, his grip tightening as the world blurred around him. Damian's next strike came fast and hard, and Callum blocked it with a force that sent both swords vibrating. 

A crowd was forming around the booth, their cheers a distant hum as Callum's heart raced. 

"I know you can do better than this, Caelan," Damian whispered again with a cruel smirk on his face. "Fight back!"

And Callum's world burst into flames.