Writing on the Wall

The elevator's soft hum filled the air as Callum leaned back against the polished steel wall, his thoughts a tangled mess of frustration and exhaustion. The board meeting from earlier still clawed at his nerves. 

Wellspring Capital Partners. 

Of course it had to be Damian's company. There was no other explanation. The man had made it his mission to antagonize him, from that mocking smirk to the way he'd toyed with him during their fight. Now, he wanted Catalyst. Why? What did Damian hope to gain by coming after the company? 

Callum's fists clenched at his sides. This wasn't just business—it was personal. No matter how much Damian pretended their old lives didn't matter, the hatred between them still simmered beneath the surface, unspoken but undeniable. Callum wasn't guilt-free in that regard. He hated Damian too. 

And now, he was certain Damian wanted Catalyst for reasons far beyond profit margins. 

Callum rubbed his eyes as he stepped into the hospital reception. The hospital floor came into view as the elevator doors slid open, and the sterile scent of antiseptic hit him like a wall. He stepped out, his shoes echoing faintly against the tile, exhausted from the stress of the day.

Voices rang out ahead of him—sharp, frustrated. He blinked, his gaze landing on Rosa gesturing wildly at the nurse. He almost ignored it, his body begging for rest. But then Micah's name floated to him through the haze, and he straightened, walking toward the scene.

"You have to let us see him!" Rosa shouted, her voice sharp with anger. 

Callum's vision focused and he could see her leaning over the counter, glaring daggers at the nurse stationed there. Her tone was sharp enough to cut glass, her words laced with frustration. Her taller girlfriend, Elle, stood beside her, trying to calm her down. 

"I'm sorry, but it's against our policy," the nurse said firmly. "Only family members and those on the approved visitors list are allowed—" 

"We're his best friends! His roommates! His family!" Rosa snapped. 

"Rosa," Elle murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Please, let's just—" 

Rosa gestured wildly at the bag slung over her shoulder. "We brought his stuff! We just want to make sure he's okay!" 

"I'm sorry," the nurse repeated, her voice tight, "but I can't allow that—" 

"Add them to the list," Callum cut in, his voice firm as he stepped forward. 

The nurse's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "Mr. Pierce!" 

"Add them to the list," he said again. 

"Of course, sir. Right away." 

Rosa turned toward him, her eyes widening slightly. "Callum!" 

"Come with me," Callum said simply, gesturing toward the elevator. 

The tension in Rosa's shoulders eased slightly, and the two women exchanged a glance before following him. 

As they walked Elle spoke first. "Thanks for stepping in. We've been trying to get in to see him for days." 

Callum nodded. "No worries." 

Rosa crossed her arms, her tone still sharp. "It's kind of shitty they still locked us out." 

Callum exhaled heavily. "That's partly my fault. We've had problems with the press trying to sneak in for photos, so I instructed the staff to keep visitors under a close eye." He glanced at them. "As far as I know, there's only one other person on the list aside from me." 

"Damian?" Rosa guessed, her voice dripping with distaste. 

Callum sighed and the elevator dinged, and they stepped out onto Micah's floor. When Callum pushed open the door to Micah's room, his eyes immediately locked onto the blonde man sitting in the chair beside the bed. Damian's blonde hair was tied back, his posture casual, but the dark circles under his eyes betrayed the exhaustion he was trying to hide. 

"Damian," Callum growled. 

Damian glanced up, and a slow smirk tugged at his lips. "Yo, Callum. Did you hear the good news? I'm buying your company." 

Callum's fists clenched, and he took a step forward, his fury boiling over. Damian stood, squaring up with a dangerous glint in his eyes. 

"Don't tell me you're about to fight here," Elle said, stepping between them with her arms raised. "Seriously, guys. Not in a hospital. Not when Micah's lying right there." 

Callum's anger deflated immediately, and a fresh wave of pain crashed over him as his gaze flickered to Micah's unconscious form. Damian's smirk faded too, his shoulders sagging slightly. 

Damian huffed, brushing past Callum to sit back down. "Do you mind? I need a few more minutes with my boyfriend." His emphasis on the word 'my' was like a knife twisting in Callum's chest. 

Without a word, Callum turned and strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. He stopped at the far end, leaning against the wall as he tried to steady his breathing. 

A few minutes later, Damian emerged, his expression unreadable. 

"Why?" Callum demanded, his voice low but firm. "Why are you coming after Catalyst?" 

Damian leaned against the opposite wall, crossing his arms. "Because I want to take everything from you," he said simply. 

Callum's breath caught. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

Damian's gaze darkened, his voice cold and detached. "Your memory is so shit, Callum. I can't stand talking to you because you don't know a damn thing. You call me Edric but you don't know me like I knew you."

"I know you were there when King Tharion was murdered," Callum growled.

"You don't know how your own story ends!" Damian shot back, stepping closer to him.

Callum faltered, his heart racing as he stared into Damian's blue eyes. Those eyes, Edric's eyes, carried a grudge. Like Callum had hurt him more than he could ever know.

"I didn't die in that fire," Callum whispered, swallowing hard.

"You didn't," Damian confirmed, turning away. "But, let's face it, Callum. Our story is already written. We can't change destiny." 

Callum's jaw clenched. He'd come out here to talk about his company and now Damian was ranting about something else entirely. "What the hell are you talking about?" he repeated. 

"I thought you would remember when we fought," Damian replied thoughtfully. "I thought I could jumpstart your memories. But your head really is so dense. I guess some things never change."

"Damian…"

"I'm talking about fate, Callum," Damian tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "We're here in a new life, in a new world and even here, we can't escape the basic principle that we are who we are; pawns to the powers that be."

Callum couldn't understand what he was getting at. He couldn't comprehend what Damian was blabbering about. Fate? Destiny? Callum's purpose in this life was simple, he'd figured it out on one of those quiet evenings where he found himself praying for Micah to wake up. He would right his wrongs, correct his failures and make Micah Liu his. His purpose was not dictated by something as rigid as fate.

"Micah is destined to die," Damian said.

The words hit Callum like a physical blow, his breath catching in his throat. Images flashed through his mind—Micah's body sprawled on the street, the ladder slipping beneath him, the terrified look on his face that night in the alley. Every moment where he'd come so close to losing him. His fists clenched at his sides. "No," he whispered, shaking his head. "Shut up."

"Micah is going to die," Damian repeated, his tone sad, but final. Like he'd already come to terms with the reality of it. "No matter what you do, no matter how hard you fight, the universe will find a way to take him from you. From us." 

The words hit Callum like a physical blow. "You're lying," he said, his voice shaking. 

"Am I?" Damian's gaze was icy, his expression unyielding. "Think about it. The accidents. The close calls. This explosion. It's already happening, Callum. The cogs are turning, and there's nothing you can do to stop it." 

Callum's fists trembled at his sides, his vision blurring with fury and despair. "Why are you telling me this?" 

"Because I want to give you enough time to mourn your coming losses," Damian combed his fingers through his hair and his voice grew frustrated. "You don't even remember, do you? That's the most annoying part! You don't remember what you took from me. What I lost because of you."

Callum swallowed hard. What exactly had he done in his past life? What happened after that night in the burning stable?

Damian sighed and calmed down all over again. "It's fine though," he said, his voice low and venomous. "Like I said, our story is already written. You're the aggrieved hero, I'm the misunderstood villain and Micah is the love who dies in Act One. If he's going to die anyway," his steely gaze landed on Callum, "then I'm going to make sure you lose everything else, too. I'm going to make sure it hurts so bad that you remember the pain I suffered."

Callum's breath hitched, his chest tightening as Damian's words settled over him like a crushing force. 

Damian pushed off the wall, his expression cold and unrelenting. "Enjoy what little time you have left, Callum. It won't last." 

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Callum standing alone in the empty hallway, his world spiraling out of control.