No Feelings

Things were getting worse by the day. Butler had lost track of what month, what date, or even what day of the week it was. And frankly, he didn't care. It was probably better not to know how much time had passed since his personal hell began—coinciding with the catastrophe in this district. Two months, three, maybe even half a year? It didn't matter; time seemed to stretch out endlessly. More and more, Butler wondered if everything he'd done for his younger sister had been pointless. He didn't even know if she was truly okay, because all the information he had came from Gabriel—and could he really be trusted? These thoughts inevitably sent Butler into a panic, and he couldn't calm down. Gradually, he began to feel worse—mentally and physically. There was a heavy weight in his chest from the dark emotions that wouldn't leave him, a headache from obsessive thoughts, and a growing weakness and fatigue from constant inactivity. And then there were the other consequences of what happened in his room every evening—things Butler tried not to think about until evening actually arrived. Gabriel was incredibly toxic. Slowly but surely, he was poisoning Butler's soul, seeping under his skin with every glance, every touch, leaving his marks and even his scent. Gabriel's image was stuck in Butler's mind, and his voice rang in his ears, crowding out all other memories, emptying him of his sense of self, and robbing him of hope. It had gotten to the point where Butler was considering ending his own life. He thought maybe then his sister would be safe, since Gabriel would have no reason to harm her anymore. That was, of course, assuming Gabriel hadn't been lying to him all along—hadn’t already done something terrible to her, just because he wanted to. Just because he wanted Butler to suffer as much as possible. “Captain, are you feeling alright?” The usually emotionless guard looked strangely alarmed. Butler no longer had the energy to pretend or force a fake smile, so he met the man’s gaze with empty, dull eyes and replied indifferently, “I feel terrible.” He noticed the guard flinch at his words and awkwardly avert his gaze. And that reaction finally made Butler see something else in the man—something other than a silent statue it had always felt pointless to speak to. “Have any letters come for me?” The guard jumped and looked up at him. “Yes, all the time. But you know that…” “Can you bring them in here?” Butler interrupted. The guard stared at his feet, shaking his head. “You’re not allowed to receive them.” Butler sighed wearily. “Listen, I know perfectly well what the rules are. But I’m not going to respond—I just need to read what they say. In the best-case scenario, the major won’t even find out. And in the worst-case scenario, I’ll take full responsibility. You have nothing to worry about.” The guard looked at him thoughtfully, apparently weighing the risks—and finally smirked. “If that’s the case, then I suppose I can help you out. But…” The smirk vanished from his face. “Won’t that make things worse for you? They’ve probably written a bunch of questions in those letters that you won’t be able to answer. Isn’t it better not to torture yourself?” Butler blinked, pausing to consider his answer. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a weak smile. “It won’t get any worse.” Because it simply can’t. The guard understood what hadn't been said aloud and swallowed hard. “I understand, Captain. I’ll bring you those letters.” Hearing this, Butler managed a real smile. “Thank you.” Moments later, the letters were in his hands, and Butler immediately tore open the envelopes. The guard turned away to avoid being too intrusive. The dates on the letters made it clear that nearly half a year had passed since he’d last been able to contact anyone. As his watchman had said, the letters—especially the more recent ones—were full of questions. Why hadn’t he been in touch for so long? Had something bad happened to him? His loved ones said they had contacted his superiors, only to be told that everything was fine—that he was just constantly busy and probably didn’t have time to talk, even to his family. Butler gritted his teeth. Gabriel had never mentioned this. Further down, his relatives talked about their own lives, and there was good news—everything was going well, including with his sister. Her wedding had been postponed for unspecified reasons, but otherwise, she seemed to be doing perfectly well. Butler exhaled as the weight of uncertainty finally lifted from his chest, and he felt much better. At least now, he knew for sure he still had something to live for. He just needed to find the strength to do it. But by evening, a familiar heaviness crept in, and his mental state deteriorated again. He returned to the thought of suicide and suddenly realized that this idea wouldn't work. In this case, nothing could guarantee his sister's safety. Of course, to Gabriel, he was a vulnerability that might be better off erased—Gabriel would probably agree with that. But since Butler had become his ‘possession’ in every sense of the word, he wasn’t even sure anymore how much he still mattered to him. His suicide might even enrage Gabriel, and then who knew what his emotions would demand. So Butler abandoned the idea, but... How can I endure all this? This time, Gabriel arrived later than usual—and without his usual bottle. But even more surprising was the look on his face: completely emotionless. His eyes reminded Butler of the ones he saw in the mirror. “Did something happen?” he asked in a trembling voice. He cowered on the bed when Gabriel turned that empty gaze on him. “Nothing happened,” came the flat, equally emotionless reply. I don’t think so, ran through Butler’s mind. He had already decided that Gabriel must have found out about the letters he received today, but this was not at all the reaction he had expected. And yet, this behavior was just as frightening. “Nothing at all,” Gabriel continued, glancing sideways. “And it’s been that way for a long time. Time goes by, but... nothing ever happens.” He walked into the room without looking up and sat at the foot of the bed, a short distance from Butler. Staring silently at the floor, he remained motionless, completely indifferent to his surroundings. Butler couldn’t help but wonder why Gabriel had come to him in such a state. It was now clear that his initial explanation for this strange behavior had been completely wrong. “How much longer does it have to go on?” Gabriel asked, his voice barely audible. He flinched slightly when Butler spoke. “That’s the only thing that really matters to you, isn’t it? I mean, carrying out your plan. You’re not interested in anything else, are you? Not pleased with anything—not even a little?” “I’m not,” Gabriel agreed, without turning his head. At that answer, Butler felt a chill run down his spine. Of course, he had known this deep down for a long time, and yet such indifference to one’s own life still terrified him. He suspected Gabriel had been living this way for years. The silence between them lingered as Butler sat in thought and Gabriel remained motionless, only vaguely resembling a living person. Then Gabriel turned to Butler and looked into his eyes for several seconds. Slowly, the emptiness in his gaze gave way to something—an emotion Butler couldn’t quite name—and then... he leaned in closer, pressing his nose against Butler's neck. Butler froze in complete confusion. Gabriel was usually irritating—talking nonsense, toying with his feelings, causing pain, making him hate himself more and more. But now he was so different that the change didn’t make sense. To show such a vulnerable side of himself... was he feeling so bad that he’d lost control? Or maybe… for some reason, he was allowing himself this openness only with him? His thoughts were racing, and though the memory of daily pain was still vivid, his hands gently rested on Gabriel's shoulders. The other man immediately pressed closer, wrapping his arms around Butler's waist. “Phil,” he whispered, kissing his neck so softly that something ached in Butler’s chest. Then a chuckle escaped him, followed by another, and another, until nervous, staccato laughter overtook him. “Why are you laughing?” Gabriel asked quietly, pulling back slightly. Butler turned away, still laughing. “It’s just that… it’s so unlike you. I’m starting to think the person who comes to me in the evenings isn’t even you at all.” He continued to laugh until tears welled in his eyes. Then he forced himself to stop and lowered his head, hoping Gabriel wouldn’t notice. Gabriel leaned into him, holding him tightly in his arms. “I treat you terribly.” Then came a series of soft, gentle kisses—on Butler’s ears, cheekbones, cheeks, and neck. Butler closed his eyes, tilting his head back slightly. “What,” he murmured on an exhale, “what are you doing… mmm…” Gabriel was already unbuttoning his shirt, slipping his hands under the fabric to stroke Butler’s torso. His hands moved slowly down from Butler’s chest to his stomach, while his lips traced a path of deeper, though still cautious, kisses from Butler’s neck down his body. Butler moaned and leaned into the caresses—only to be pushed onto the bed a second later. This time, Gabriel was surprisingly gentle until the very end—so much so that Butler barely felt any pain, only waves of pleasure. He kept moaning and writhing beneath the lips and hands that coaxed such sensations from him, casting aside all shame, and for the first time, he didn't care at all. Gabriel whispered soothing words and compliments in his ear, making his cheeks flush and his whole body tremble. Butler reached for him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, his hands sliding along his back. Gabriel froze for a moment, then leaned into him, burying his face in Butler’s hair at his temple. “Don’t take your hands away,” he said quietly, and something painful tugged at Butler’s chest. For a moment he hesitated, but then he only hugged Gabriel tighter. The other man began to move faster, his trembling hands caressing Butler’s body. Butler arched his back, moaning loudly. “I feel so good with you, Phil, so good, God…” A shiver passed over his skin, and an incredibly pleasant sensation spread to his fingertips, building toward a peak of pleasure. For a few moments, Butler lost his usual sense of reality, nearly fainting. Gradually coming to, he felt a strong tremor running through the body pressed against him. They lay still for a moment, unmoving, until Gabriel finally raised himself and began covering Butler’s face with kisses, pressing his nose into his hair and inhaling its scent. Butler felt overwhelmed by this aching tenderness—something he hadn’t expected at all. “Stop,” he forced out, blushing, his hands slowly sliding off Gabriel’s back. “Please, that’s too much…” Gabriel smiled and placed one last kiss on his neck before pulling away, turning to get dressed. Still recovering from his embarrassment, Butler watched him—his movements seemed more hurried than usual. “Why were you like that this time?” he asked, noticing Gabriel’s hands trembling as they briefly paused. “Consider it gratitude.” The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “For what?” Butler stared at him in surprise. Gabriel was silent for a moment, then laughed briefly. “Never mind.” But Butler could already see the awkwardness in his expression. He remembered how Gabriel had behaved when he first entered the room, and his lips involuntarily stretched into a smile. “Is it because I brighten up your empty life?” Gabriel coughed lightly, as if to compose himself. “Listen,” he said, lowering his voice, “don’t take everything that happened here too seriously. It was just a bad day—those happen. You comforted me, for which I thank you.” He turned to Butler and looked into his face, then suddenly smiled—a strange, uncharacteristically normal smile, like that of an ordinary person. “I think I managed to calm you down too, didn’t I?” Butler nodded, unable to resist smiling back. Gabriel leaned toward him, kissing him on the corner of his lips. “Goodnight, Phil.” He left, as he always did. But now, something in Butler felt different. He wasn’t sure exactly how, but there was no doubt that he actually felt better. As sudden fatigue swept over him, he closed his eyes and lazily reflected on what had happened. It began to feel more and more like a dream. Such an open, receptive, even affectionate Gabriel—he considered it something bordering on fantasy. For the first time, Butler saw in him not a monster, not a devil who had crawled out of the very depths of hell, but a man. Broken, emotionally scarred—but a man nonetheless. And it was this man whom he sincerely wanted to comfort. He still couldn't accept Gabriel's madness or forgive everything he had done, but now he understood him better—his inner state, his pain—and realized he might even be able to reach him. However, it was still unclear what benefit that might bring him. For now, he felt a little better, but if things continued like this, he would eventually risk… getting confused about his feelings. Right? “Oh no,” Butler said aloud to himself, smiling and almost falling asleep, “I won't let that happen.” It had probably just been a dream or a hallucination, conjured by his sick imagination—or so Butler thought afterward. Because the one who kept coming to him every night was the same vile spawn of hell—the one he couldn’t stand. In a way, it was for the best—to hear the smug, nauseating stories, to see the vilest smile imaginable, to drink the blood-colored liquid, and to endure the acts that brought mostly pain and disgust. It left him no chance to forget his hatred. He felt it smoldering in his soul like a weak flame, one that could easily become an uncontrollable fire and burn Gabriel to ashes, given the right opportunity. But the right opportunity never came, and so Butler had to burn in the flame himself. That was the downside—it burned him from the inside, gradually destroying the person he once was, leaving only a vague shadow behind. The same shadow, with empty eyes and slumped shoulders, that still stared back at him from the mirror. A physical shell that resembled him, but without memories, without desires, without feelings. And to be honest with himself, it was all so unbearable that he might not have refused one more evening with the Gabriel from that strange vision. But of course, it would be better to just end it all. To stop this endless torment… he would have to stop his own heart. Lying on the bed in a room thick with the night's scent of wine and sweat, Butler stared at the ceiling—and through it—silently asking a nonexistent god if his sins were truly so vile that he deserved such punishment. And, as expected, no answer came. He smiled bitterly and closed his eyes. “You're not at fault, Captain Butler.” Butler shuddered. As he opened his eyes abruptly, he turned his head toward the source of the voice—so familiar, so gentle, almost forgotten. Her voice. “R-Rose?” His voice came out hoarse and unrecognizable, as if uttered by some dying old man. Rose—and it was undoubtedly her, in the same sweet dress she often wore in days gone by, her hair loose, flowing nearly to her knees—smiled softly with that very smile Butler had terribly missed. “Everything will be alright. You just need to wait a little longer. You can do it.” She slowly approached his bed and sat beside him, her warm hand touching his. Butler struggled to sit up; now she was very close, so close that he could touch her hair, cheek, chin—run his fingers over her lips—making sure it was really her. Warm, alive, real. “Rose…” He kissed her, burying his fingers in her thick, soft curls. To his surprise, she responded immediately, melting into his movements and falling with him onto the bed. He laid her down on the sheets and kissed her lips again—briefly—before his hasty kisses moved to her neck. His trembling hands awkwardly worked at the fastenings of her dress, but soon, he succeeded. Rose lay naked and shivering beneath him, breathing heavily. Butler pulled back, raising his gaze to her face. He wanted to calm her, to say something—but the words got stuck in his throat. Because Rose's eyes, her beautiful blue eyes, had glazed over, turning into cold, murky lakes. That heavy gaze was fixed on him, as if trying to pull him in, and Butler couldn't look away. However, even so, he noticed the terrible crimson stain spreading across Rose's milky-white belly. His mouth opened in a scream of terror, but no sound came out. And then... the blue eyes vanished, replaced by the now-familiar irises the color of red wine, cutting into him with their gaze. Instead of Rose's lips, thin, hateful lips stretched into a sneering smile. Butler wanted to run, but his body wouldn’t move—his limbs felt chained to the bed. And hands—hands that were certainly not Rose’s—grabbed him, pulling him closer. He couldn't break free from their steel grip. Something seemed to yank him, and Butler snapped his eyelids open. He was ready to breathe a sigh of relief, but instead, he shuddered all over again, seeing the same dark eyes and unpleasant smile in front of him. “What's wrong, Phil? Had a nightmare?” Gabriel sat on the bed beside him, leaning in so close that long strands of his hair tickled Butler's palm. As clarity returned, Butler turned away. “Did I really wake up from it?” he sneered, sitting up and reaching involuntarily for his head—after the brief but harrowing dream, it felt unbearably heavy. Gabriel laughed and stood. “Whatever it was, get up. I need you.” Glancing up at him wearily, Butler suddenly wondered how long Gabriel had been sitting there, watching him, without even trying to wake him. The thought made him uneasy, and to distract himself, he looked toward the other corner of the room, where a full bottle of wine sat on the table. The discomfort faded, replaced by a wave of nausea. He was sure that in his current state, even a sip would make him ill. “Maybe I should just stay here then?” he suggested, surprised to find himself saying it completely seriously. A flicker of surprise crossed Gabriel’s eyes, but he quickly masked it and chuckled. “No~, Phil. First, I want to talk.” Fighting through his weakness and headache, Butler obediently moved to the armchair. It was then, watching Gabriel pour wine into the glasses with a smile on his face, that he noticed the other man seemed to be in an unusually good mood—too good, in fact. And there was really only one thing that could bring him this kind of pleasure, which meant… “Richard came to see me today,” Gabriel announced, confirming Butler's suspicions. “He wanted to consult me about what he should do next. To achieve our ‘common’ goal,” he sneered, emphasizing the word as if it weren’t a complete lie. He went on, almost giddy, detailing how he and Richard were now ‘friends’, how Richard trusted him completely and relied on him in so many ways. Meanwhile, Butler watched Gabriel’s satisfied face with quiet sorrow, more aware than ever that the words which once only made him sick now made him reflect on how deeply unhappy the man in front of him truly was. Still, in this situation, the first person to pity was Richard. “What if Rose comes back one day?” he asked. “She must be doing much better now, right?” “To be honest, I don’t know much about that,” Gabriel winced and looked away for a moment. “Richard never talks about her, and I don’t ask. But I think you’re right. It’s quite possible she’s completely healthy now.” Seeing the shift in Gabriel’s expression, Butler began to regret bringing up the topic. But before the anxiety could settle in, Gabriel smiled broadly. “Even if that’s the case, it doesn’t matter. Even if I still can’t reach the place where they’re hiding her, Richard won’t let her out himself. He won’t let anyone interfere with his revenge—I’m sure of that now. And I’ll make sure it stays that way.” Butler shuddered. Gabriel’s words were chilling, yet he was smiling like a child who had finally gotten what they wanted, with a bright and open smile. Unable to bear the sight, Butler looked away, his fingers tightening around the seat beneath him. “You,” he paused, hesitating for a second before continuing, “have you ever thought about trying to live differently? You know… like normal people. Without revenge and all that other crap.” He was genuinely curious—curious enough to speak up, even if it meant risking Gabriel’s temper. But the reaction was quite calm—the other man smiled peacefully. “You might be surprised, but yes—there were times I considered that option too.” Butler looked up at him. “I’m curious,” he said, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. “Will you tell me more?” “Hm…” Gabriel shrugged, absently studying the nearly empty glass in his hand. He reached for the bottle and refilled it. Only after a few sips did he speak again. “It was when I was young. Back when I’d only just stopped being a child—and, in truth, could barely do anything yet. But I was already sure of my goal. I knew I had to learn a lot to achieve it. That included learning how to communicate with the right people in the right way.” Butler grimaced, and Gabriel responded with a slight smile. “Don't make that face. People interested me for more than just that—at least back then. But I never forgot what mattered most.” He paused, lowering his gaze—perhaps trying to recall the past, or deciding how much of it he was willing to share. Then he continued, not looking at Butler but somewhere off into the distance. “Even before I knew how, making new acquaintances came easily to me. Simply because I always stood out and drew attention. People naturally gathered around me, eager to befriend me. I never refused. At first, I was even happy about it…” He broke off again, gulping down the remaining contents of his glass and pouring another. Butler quietly asked, “Why only at first?” Gabriel looked at him with an inexpressive gaze and suddenly smirked, but the smirk was cold. “I quickly realized what it was all about. When they talked to me, it was only for their own benefit. They were drawn to what they saw on the outside, but cared little about the rest. They often approved of my actions, maybe flattered me a little. But none of them asked why I was trying so hard. And I didn't feel like I could share anything with them. So... I just acted friendly, pretending that everything they thought about me was true.” After emptying his glass, he refilled it to the brim. Butler noticed the wine in the bottle was now barely above the bottom. He glanced at his own glass—still half-full—and once again marveled at how Gabriel could drink so much without showing it. As Gabriel continued to drink in silence, Butler replied: “There's nothing unusual about that. Most people you know don’t really care about you—and you don’t care about them either. But you keep in touch, and everyone’s content with that, because you never know what might happen. That's how mutually beneficial relationships work.” Gabriel watched him closely the entire time, then laughed when he finished. “How well you've described it. That’s exactly how things ended up between me and those people—and with many others later. Overall, it’s not bad, I agree.” He was still smiling, but his eyes dimmed for a moment. “Though it doesn’t make you want to live, I get it,” Butler added. Gabriel flinched and stared at him, the smile vanishing from his face. Then he laughed—but it was forced, clearly trying to cover up the emotion he’d just let slip. “But I'm sure that's not all,” Butler continued. “There must’ve been people who wanted to get to know you better. Some who even fell in love with you. There had to be someone like that.” Gabriel's gaze lingered on him again. “Are you trying to compliment me?” he smirked. Butler coughed and glanced away. “Why would I do that?” he muttered. “It's just... you said you attracted attention. So, that kind of attention too.” “Well, you're right there,” Gabriel agreed, saying nothing more. He looked away. There was no hint of thoughtfulness on his face—his expression was simply detached. It didn’t seem like he planned to say anything else, but Butler’s curiosity had already gotten the better of him. “Have you ever been in a relationship?” Gabriel laughed, but the sound quickly died in his throat. He downed the rest of his glass and set it on the table with a sharp clink that made Butler jump. “Do you really want to know that?” Butler nodded cautiously, eyeing the crooked smile that twisted Gabriel’s face. After a pause, Gabriel’s features smoothed out, returning to something resembling calm. “All right. It happened for the first time right around the time I was talking about. She... was different from the others. While the others surrounded me, playing at friendship, she just watched silently from a distance. I always felt her gaze on me, but as soon as I turned around, she immediately looked away.” Gabriel smiled almost imperceptibly, and for a moment, his face seemed to brighten—an unusual sight to Butler. “She wasn’t quiet and modest—quite the opposite. She was always surrounded by her friends, and her voice could be heard from the other side of the classroom. But in front of me, she’d always get shy. She couldn’t even come up to me, let alone speak.” “And then you went up to her yourself?” Butler asked, not noticing how the corners of his lips were turning up. But Gabriel smiled wryly. “No. You know, I... somehow knew in advance that I shouldn't get involved in this. Nothing good would come of it.” His face darkened again, and Butler felt awkward. It was already clear that, whatever Gabriel's relationship with that girl had been, it had ultimately turned out to be a very unpleasant experience for him. So he didn't ask any more questions, and silence settled over the room. Then Gabriel spoke up. “Nevertheless, one day she finally overcame her timidity and told me about her feelings. I couldn't refuse her—and I didn't really want to. After all, it was interesting to try… and I suppose I liked her, yes.” Butler smiled. It felt strange to hear Gabriel—who seemed to have long since lost the ability to feel anything for anyone—talk about a close relationship with a girl from the distant past, even remembering what he had felt for her. He was also surprised by how long the conversation had gone on without stirring any negative emotions. Butler couldn't remember the last time that had happened. “Everything was fine until a certain point. I saw that she was interested in me specifically, that she just wanted to be with me—not get anything out of our connection. Just like you said, she wanted to know more about me—and gradually, I opened up to her. It got to the point where I told her about my goal.” Gabriel paused, and Butler didn't dare ask what happened next—especially since he already suspected the answer. “What do you think, Phil, how did she react?” The expression that suddenly appeared in Gabriel's eyes made Butler's knees tremble. He felt an almost irresistible urge to get up and leave—just to get away from that cold, penetrating gaze. Somehow pulling himself together, he tried to answer as calmly as he could. “How should I know? But judging by how you're talking about it, I can guess that she didn't like it.” Gabriel's gaze became even more caustic, his lips twisting into a wicked grin. “She looked at me with horror. At that moment, she probably couldn't believe she had ever loved me.” Then he looked away. After a brief pause, he continued, his tone a little calmer, “She said I should forget about it. She promised she would help me.” He laughed sharply and went on, his voice returning to that mockingly evil tone. “But she couldn't hide the fear in her eyes. And frankly, she wasn't wrong to be afraid. Because I... was thinking about killing her.” A cold sweat broke out across Butler’s back at those last words—but something else was making him deeply uneasy. And while he was still trying to understand what it was, Gabriel said, “Of course, I didn't do it. Instead, I made her promise not to tell anyone. I suppose she kept that promise. But... she couldn't keep her other one.” “To help you?” Butler guessed, again drawing a piercing gaze from those dark eyes. “Exactly as you said once, right?” Then Butler finally understood why Gabriel was looking at him like that—and why a wave of discomfort had suddenly come over him. His own words, spoken many months ago, rang in his head, each one landing like a blow. If you were to reveal this truth about yourself to someone, I wonder what that someone would say. Would they suggest you seek some kind of treatment? Or would they simply... be horrified and run as far away from you as possible? He remembered saying those words just to get under Gabriel's skin, and had been genuinely surprised they had affected him so deeply. Who would have thought he’d hit the nail on the head. “You... broke up after that?” Butler stammered, feeling his voice tremble. Gabriel’s expression turned distant again. “Yes, but not immediately. And I had to be the one to tell her it was over, because she couldn’t decide. Can you imagine”—he smirked, his expression twisting into something disturbingly cold—“she was afraid to be around me, but she stayed anyway. Apparently, she was scared to upset me. Who knows what I might have done to her for that.” He laughed—a brittle, unpleasant sound—and reached for the bottle, pouring the last of it into his glass. “Maybe she just didn't want to break up,” Butler said hesitantly. “You might have misunderstood.” “Believe me,” Gabriel replied with a bitter smile, “I wasn’t wrong about that. And the relief I saw in her eyes when I said we should end things—there’s no mistaking that.” He drank the last of the wine, looking regretfully at the empty bottle. Meanwhile, Butler stared at him, feeling as though a rope were tightening around his chest, the knot twisted deep just above his solar plexus. “And you never tried to open up to anyone else?” he asked, though his tone made it sound more like a statement. Gabriel just nodded without looking up. “Well... did you let anyone else into your life?” “You mean relationships?” the other man smirked. “Yeah, it happened a few more times. But it never lasted long and, honestly, it meant nothing. Just to satisfy physical needs. A short-term distraction, nothing more.” Just like with me, Butler thought, but he bit his tongue before he could say it aloud. Instead, he asked, “Did it mean the same thing to them?” “Who knows. But I doubt they were too upset that I disappeared from their lives.” Butler was at a loss for words. In the silence that followed, Gabriel’s laugh rang out—so sharp it grated. “You know, some of them sometimes noticed that something was bothering me, and they asked about it. Of course I never told the truth; I just said it had to do with my past. And they... they’d say I needed to forget everything, let go of my worries and regrets, and just live. Ha, hahahaha...” His laughter ended in a sharp exhale. A strange smile froze on his face, and his eyes stared into nothingness as he said, “And I kept thinking—what was the point, then…” He faltered, glancing quickly at Butler. Then he looked at the clock, and at the table in front of him, before covering his face with a hand and laughing quietly. “I think I've had too much to drink. I'm talking such nonsense. Don't take this absurdity seriously, okay?” “Gabriel…” Butler bit his lip, watching as the other man stood, swaying slightly. He still couldn’t speak and wasn’t sure if he should, and Gabriel smiled at him. “Thanks for putting up with me this long. I'm finally leaving. Good night.” Gabriel was already a few steps from the door when Butler made up his mind and stood. “Wait.” The other man turned, still wearing that same smile, though his eyes questioned him. Butler looked away. “If you want... you can stay.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the smile vanish from Gabriel’s face. “Why?” Gabriel asked, his tone suddenly cold. Butler felt even more embarrassed. “I think you'd be better off not being alone right now,” he mumbled. “So... if I'm right, and you need some company, you can...” “Why, Phil?” Gabriel said again. Butler looked at him, slightly bewildered. “What? I just said that—” “Why do you need this?” There wasn’t even a trace of surprise in Gabriel’s gaze—only pure distrust, as if he were absolutely certain this impulse couldn’t possibly be sincere. Confused, Butler lowered his head, not knowing how to explain what he was feeling. Honestly, it felt strange to him too—but everything he’d just heard made him see Gabriel in a different light. And for some reason, it hurt—not physically, but rather… “Don't tell me,” Gabriel gave a mocking smile, “that after all this drunk rambling, you feel sorry for me.” Butler flinched. It was true. Exactly that. But at the sight of his reaction, Gabriel just laughed—then spoke again, with no trace of humor. “Even if you ignore how much of what I said was true... I’m still the same, Phil. Nothing about me has changed. I’m still the same monster—the one you can barely breathe around.” The words struck Butler again, sharp and cold. “You still remember that,” he said with a faint smile, avoiding his eyes. “I have a good memory,” Gabriel replied icily. “You should remind yourself how much you hate me.” As soon as he said that, the most repulsive episodes involving Gabriel—times when he had treated someone, or Butler himself, cruelly—came flooding back into Butler’s mind. Those memories revived all the old feelings: pain, anger, helplessness. But even so, the feeling he had now wouldn’t go away. Gabriel had already turned to leave when Butler spoke again. “I know.” The other man turned, and now there was astonishment in his eyes. “I know that you're still the same, and that you can't be changed. But I also know that I can help you—maybe only a little, but still. That’s why you come here every evening.” Gabriel’s lips trembled, as if he were about to say something. But in the end, he remained silent. “And if I really can do that... then I want to.” He looked up at Gabriel, steady and unwavering. The other man scrutinized him for a while before smirking and saying, “Alright, let's say I stay. So what are we going to do?” “Ah…” Butler was taken aback, but he quickly came up with an answer. “Well, anything. We can just spend time like we usually do.” “Usually,” Gabriel said, his smirk growing more bitter, “I complain to you about life or tell you something. But I’ve already talked enough for today. We also drink, but as you can see, I’ve had enough of that too. And since both of those options are off the table, what else is left of our usual routine?” Butler lowered his eyes, finally understanding where this was heading. Meanwhile, Gabriel continued, his voice mocking, “So, are you saying you’d go along with it? Even though I could’ve just walked out today—and you could’ve avoided all this?” Butler was silent, his jaw tightening at the caustic tone of the question. Gabriel looked at him for a moment, then seemed to calm down. His voice softened, and his smirk faded into a tired smile. “Let's forget about it, okay?” He almost turned to the door when Butler said softly, “I'm just offering to let you stay. You can do whatever you want.” After that, he couldn’t bring himself to look up; he just stared at the floor in silence. A few seconds of heavy stillness were broken by a quiet chuckle. “You’re serious? You’re even ready to give yourself to me, to… Why, Phil? What are you trying to achieve?” Gabriel was laughing, but the sound was strange—strained. When Butler looked up at his face, he saw something even more unsettling. Though the laughter continued and Gabriel’s mouth was curved in a smile, his eyes were cold, even angry. “Of course it would be you.” His voice grew increasingly hostile. “Just like always. You’ve always found a way to get what you want from others.” Butler clenched his teeth and turned away, swallowing the lump tightening in his throat, making it even harder to breathe. “What can I even... do? It's not like I can harm you or stop you in any way. The most I can hope for is a short-lived favor from you as a condescending gift.” Gabriel stopped smiling, and maybe that unsettling look in his eyes vanished too, but Butler couldn’t be sure—he couldn’t bring himself to look at him anymore. “To hell with it,” he muttered, just above a whisper, feeling his eyes start to sting. “You can go wherever you were going.” Gabriel stood there a moment longer, then turned sharply toward the door and left. Butler turned toward the opposite wall, walked to the window, and stared into the darkness beyond the glass, his palms pressed to the sill. Drops of moisture soon fell onto the backs of his hands. “Damn it, what's wrong with me?” he mumbled, wiping his wet cheeks. But the tears kept welling up. He gave a forced laugh. “Did I really want to spend the night with him?” No. That's not it. He hates me, still... he looks at me the same way. “What?” Butler said aloud, startled by his own thoughts. “So I don’t hate him?” And the answer that came to mind made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. I don't know anymore.