A game we can't win

Damian should've said no.

The second he walked into the bar that night, he knew. The moment he spotted Alex in the corner booth, two beers already in front of him—one for himself and one for Damian, like he knew Damian would show up—he knew.

Like the decision had never even been a question.

And maybe it hadn't been.

Maybe Damian was just pretending he had a choice.

Because no matter how much he told himself to step back, to give himself space, to think this through—he was here. Sitting across from Alex, already reaching for the beer, already feeling the weight of the night settle over him like something inevitable.

Alex's face lit up the second their eyes met, that cocky smirk tugging at his lips. "Knew you'd come."

Damian sighed, lowering himself into the booth like he was already regretting this. "Don't get cocky."

Alex pushed one of the beers toward him, fingers lingering on the glass. "Too late."

Damian rolled his eyes but took a sip. The cold bitterness grounded him, but only for a second. He needed that—something solid to hold onto before his brain started spiraling again. Before he let himself overthink everything.

They sat there in silence for a moment, drinking, surrounded by the low hum of the bar. The noise around them should have been enough to make this feel normal—people laughing, glasses clinking, conversations blending into a dull buzz of background chaos. It should have been easy to slip into the comfort of routine, to pretend nothing was different.

But it was.

It had been from the second he woke up this morning.

And Alex knew it, too.

He tilted his head slightly, watching Damian with that same sharp, unreadable gaze he always had when he was picking apart something Damian wasn't saying. He let the silence stretch for a few more seconds before finally speaking.

"You've been weird today."

Damian's grip tightened around his glass. His first instinct was to deny it. To brush it off. To pretend like he didn't know what Alex was talking about.

But he did.

And Alex did, too.

"No, I haven't," Damian muttered, a little too quickly.

Alex arched a brow, unconvinced. "Dude."

Damian clenched his jaw, his knee bouncing under the table. He should've known Alex wouldn't let this go.

"I'm fine," he said, voice too flat. Too forced.

Alex didn't buy it. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his expression unreadable but knowing. "Look, I'm not trying to make shit weird, alright? I just… I don't want you to start overthinking what happened."

Damian exhaled through his nose. Too late for that.

His fingers drummed against the glass, slow, steady. He wanted to say something to shut this down, to move past it, to make things go back to how they were. But nothing he could say would change the fact that everything already had changed.

Finally, after a long pause, he muttered, "I don't even know what happened."

Alex was quiet for a second. Then, softer, "Yeah. You do."

Damian swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the beer.

The weight of those words settled between them, heavy and undeniable.

Because Alex was right.

He did know.

Last night wasn't just a mistake. Wasn't just something to brush off and forget.

But admitting that? Saying it out loud? That was something else entirely.

He stared at his drink, watching the condensation drip down the glass. His heartbeat was slow, heavy, deliberate. The way it always got when he felt like he was standing on the edge of something he couldn't turn back from.

Alex was still watching him. Waiting.

And that was the problem with Alex.

He waited.

He gave Damian space to figure his shit out, never pushed, never demanded answers. Just… waited.

And maybe that was why this felt so dangerous.

Because Alex wasn't scared of this.

Maybe Damian was the only one afraid of what it meant.

The silence stretched too long, thick with unspoken words. Then, finally, Damian forced himself to meet Alex's gaze. "What are we doing, Alex?"

Alex didn't even blink. Didn't flinch. Didn't look away. "What do you want us to be doing?"

The question hit like a gut punch.

Because Damian didn't have an answer.

Or maybe, he had too many.

He wanted to say nothing's changed. That they were still just them, still just two idiots getting drunk together, still just friends.

But that wasn't true, was it?

His jaw clenched. He dragged a hand down his face. "I don't fucking know."

Alex sighed, but it wasn't annoyed. Wasn't frustrated. Just… understanding. He leaned back, his fingers tapping lightly against his beer bottle. "Then we figure it out. No pressure, no rush. We just… see where this goes."

Damian exhaled slowly. That should've been reassuring. Should've made this easier.

It didn't.

Because Alex made it sound so fucking simple.

But it wasn't simple. It had never been simple.

He looked at Alex again, at the certainty in his eyes, at the way he sat there like he wasn't afraid of whatever this was turning into. Like he was okay with the uncertainty.

Damian wished he could feel that calm.

Instead, all he felt was a slow, creeping realization.

They were playing a game with no rules. And sooner or later, someone was going to lose.