Darrien's Perspective

For the rest of their journey, Cass refused to let Darrien venture to the bathroom alone. No matter where Darrien went, Cass shadowed him with unwavering vigilance, as if he expected trouble at any moment.

By the time they reached the mountains the next day at noon, the sky was a perfect shade of blue, with wisps of white clouds drifting lazily above the towering peaks. At the base of the mountain range, nestled among the pines, was a quiet little town. Cass rented a garage to safely store the car, ensuring it would be well-protected while they were away. After replenishing their supplies—stocking up on food, water, and a few other essentials—they began their ascent.

The air grew noticeably colder as they climbed, sharp and bracing, but clean and invigorating. Their breath came out in misty puffs, and with each step, the crisp scent of pine and damp earth filled their lungs. They had been hiking for three hours when Cass suggested they take a break. Darrien, though still sore and exhausted, was impressed by Cass's endurance. They had pulled off the highway twice before reaching the mountains, during which Cass had snatched only two brief, precisely timed one-hour naps. It defied logic how he could function on so little rest, let alone maintain such an unrelenting pace up the rugged terrain.

With brief stops to catch their breath and rehydrate, the climb stretched to five hours. By the time they finally arrived at the secluded cabin, dusk had given way to full night.

Darrien had expected darkness to greet them, but instead, the cabin stood bathed in an otherworldly glow, illuminated by various neon lights casting soft hues of blue, green, and violet against the wooden structure.

"They're solar-powered," Cass explained, catching the unspoken question in Darrien's awed expression.

Standing there in the half-light, Darrien couldn't help but admire how serene and picturesque the cabin looked. It was surrounded by a sparse cluster of trees, their branches rustling gently in the night breeze. A short walk ahead revealed a breathtaking view—the valley spread out beneath the mountain, stretching far into the distance, a sea of shadows and moonlit glades.

Inside, the cabin was more spacious than Darrien had expected. The main area featured a cozy living room with a stone fireplace, its hearth waiting to be lit. Opposite the fireplace was a small but functional open kitchen. The single bedroom contained a comfortable bed, a nightstand, and a closet. However, what truly surprised Darrien was the bathroom—a fully equipped space with a proper tub. The sight of it was a welcome relief after their arduous climb. They also had cold and hot running water. For a cabin in the middle of the woods it was perfectly acclimated to city standards.

Wasting no time, Darrien sank into a warm bath, the heat soothing his aching muscles and the lingering soreness in his throat. Meanwhile, Cass busied himself with lighting the fireplace, coaxing flames to life with practiced ease.

"You should wash up too," Darrien murmured, his voice still raw.

Cass, peeling off his jacket, nodded. "Alright. If you're hungry, there are some meals in my backpack. You can heat them in the microwave," he said, motioning toward the black bag propped against the mini-fridge.

"I'm more exhausted than anything," Darrien admitted, stretching slightly. "Go wash up. I'll wait for you."

Cass disappeared into the bathroom, and Darrien settled in front of the fire, sinking into the nest of soft blankets and plush pillows. The warmth of the flames combined with his sheer exhaustion made it impossible to fight off sleep. He hadn't even realized he had dozed off until the next morning, when he woke up in the bed.

Darrien blinked at the ceiling in confusion. He had no recollection of moving, which meant Cass must have carried him. That alone was surprising enough—but what puzzled him even more was Cass's own sleeping arrangement. Where had he slept?

Over the next few days, Darrien discovered the answer. Cass had been sleeping on the floor, right in front of the fireplace.

The realization unsettled him. Hadn't Cass dragged him all the way up here for revenge? Now that Darrien was isolated, cut off from the outside world, Cass could have done anything he wanted. He could have made him suffer, exacted whatever retribution he had planned. And yet… he hadn't.

Instead, Cass spent his days making sure there was enough wood for the fire, constantly checking on Darrien—asking if his wound was healing properly, if his throat still hurt, if he needed anything. Without fail, he prepared three meals a day, ensuring Darrien ate enough to regain his strength.

Cass was acting less like a captor and more like a caretaker.

Darrien couldn't remember the last time he had felt this... taken care of. His life as a Valmoor had been nothing but relentless demands—pressure, control, expectations, and endless responsibilities. There had always been something to strategize, something to manage, something to fight for. His days had been consumed with studying, social maneuvering, and maintaining his position. There had never been time for true rest.

Yet here, in this secluded mountain retreat, he found himself experiencing a strange and unfamiliar sensation.

Peace.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I need to go down into town," Cass told Darrien, his voice calm but firm. "I have to check on how things are progressing with the plan and pick up some provisions."

Darrien tensed. "You're leaving me here? Alone?" His voice came out sharper than he intended, laced with unease. He hadn't realized how much he had grown accustomed to Cass's presence until the thought of being left behind sent a strange ripple of anxiety through him.

Cass must have noticed, because he stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on Darrien's arm. "Don't worry. You'll be fine," he said, his tone gentle yet unwavering. "There aren't any wild animals around here, and if anything happens…" He turned toward the kitchen, guiding Darrien by the hand. Cass knelt and pulled open the cabinet under the sink. "There's a gun," he said, pointing to the sleek black handgun resting inside. Beside it sat a box of bullets, neatly packed.

Darrien exhaled slowly as he reached down and picked up the weapon, running his fingers over the cold metal. It was a good, reliable firearm—compact, powerful. He weighed it in his palm, testing its balance.

"You know how to use one, don't you?" Cass asked, watching him closely.

Darrien gave a small nod. "I do."

He could handle himself when it came to firearms. And yet, for some reason, the knowledge didn't make him feel any less uneasy about Cass leaving.

Cass studied him for a moment, then lifted a hand, fingers brushing against Darrien's cheek in a fleeting touch—so brief and light it sent an unexpected warmth coursing through him. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised.

Darrien forced a faint smile. "Okay."

Cass left at dawn, his silhouette disappearing into the misty mountain path. Darrien stood at the window long after he was gone, staring into the vast expanse of forest. It was strange—before meeting Cass, he had never thought of himself as someone who feared solitude. He had spent his entire life locked in his own world, surrounded by people yet perpetually alone. But now, the cabin felt too still, too empty.

With nothing else to do, he tried to distract himself. He read for a while but couldn't focus on the words. He cooked all three meals from scratch instead of heating up leftovers, yet the act of chopping vegetables and stirring pots felt oddly hollow. Even splitting wood for the fireplace—a task he had never done before—only served to remind him how vast and lonely the mountains felt without Cass there.

By late afternoon, the weather shifted. Dark clouds rolled in, thick and heavy, and soon, rain began to fall in steady sheets against the roof. Darrien watched from the doorway, his arms tightening around himself. There was no way to contact Cass. No cell signal. No radio. Nothing.

By nightfall, the rain had transformed into a full-blown storm. Thunder rumbled through the valley, lightning splitting the sky in violent flashes. The wind howled through the trees, rattling the windows and making the cabin feel smaller, suffocating.

Darrien wasn't afraid of storms. He had faced worse, survived worse. But this time, fear gnawed at him—not for himself, but for Cass. Was he stuck out there, somewhere on the mountain? Had something happened to him? The thought clenched around Darrien's chest like a snake.

Sleep never came. He spent the night curled up by the fireplace, staring into the flames, body tense and mind restless.

Then, just before dawn, he heard it—faint footsteps outside, struggling through the mud.

Darrien sprang to his feet and flung the door open.

Cass stood there, drenched to the bone, mud splattered up all over his body, his clothes torn in places. His dark hair clung to his forehead, water dripping from his lashes. He was breathless, exhausted, worn to the bone. But he was there.

He was alive.

Before Darrien could stop himself, a strangled sound tore from his throat, and his vision blurred. He was crying—he hadn't even realized until Cass pulled him into a tight embrace, his arms strong and unyielding.

"It's okay," Cass murmured against his hair, his voice hoarse. "I'm here now."

Darrien buried his face against Cass's chest, his shoulders shaking. He didn't cry. He never cried. Not when he was hurt. Not when he was scared. But now, the sheer relief of Cass's return overwhelmed him.

Cass held him close, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other stroking slow, reassuring circles down his back. "Were you scared?" he asked softly.

Darrien shook his head. "Not for me. I was scared something happened to you. That you wouldn't come back." His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and unguarded.

Cass exhaled, resting his chin atop Darrien's head. "I'm sorry. I slipped, and my backpack strap snapped. It rolled down a slope, and I had to climb down after it. By the time I got it back, the storm had already made it hell to climb back up."

Darrien pulled back slightly, searching Cass's face. "Are you hurt?"

Cass gave him a tired smile. "Just a few scratches." He brushed his knuckles against Darrien's cheek.

Darrien suddenly realized they were still standing outside in the freezing rain, their clothes soaked through. Cass's body was ice-cold beneath his touch.

"Get inside," Darrien urged, pushing him gently toward the doorway. "Take a hot bath before you freeze."

Cass kicked off his muddy boots on the porch and peeled off his soaked clothes, leaving only his underwear. Darrien swallowed, looking away quickly as heat flushed his cheeks. He couldn't help but notice the faint scratches on Cass's back and arms—but thankfully, nothing serious.

Cass disappeared into the bathroom without another word, and Darrien, trying to steady his breath, turned to the abandoned backpack. He emptied its contents onto the kitchen counter—cans, frozen goods, fresh produce. No wonder the strap had snapped with all this weight.

After putting everything away, he reheated the potato soup he had made earlier and set it on the table along with some cold medicine.

When Cass emerged from the bathroom, towel-drying his damp hair, Darrien gestured toward the food. "Eat," he said. "And take the medicine. You're not getting sick on my watch."

Cass smiled and sat down without protest.

"I'm going to wash up too," Darrien added quickly before rushing into the bathroom.

As soon as he was alone, he let out a deep breath, pressing his palms against his face.

He felt ridiculous. Crying like that. Letting Cass see him so vulnerable. He had been through hell before and never shed a tear. And yet, the thought of Cass not coming back… the sheer relief of seeing him safe…

Darrien closed his eyes.

There was no point denying it anymore.

He didn't just care about Cass.

He was in love with him.