Chapter Text
The darkness fell slowly, almost imperceptibly, as if the light itself was afraid to stay over the place for too long. The old warehouse stood on the sidelines, away from the busy streets and the gazes of others.
Dark, storm clouds covered virtually the entire sky. Heavy rain drowned out all the other sounds, and winds flew through visible gaps in the walls and windows of the old warehouse. In the middle of a large, quite old and already practically abandoned room, stood a tall man with a rather muscular structure. His bright hair contrasted with the darkness surrounding the entire place.
Now, hearing the sound of two more people approaching him up close, he turned his head towards them, but not completely—he continued to stare at the half-broken window in front of him. It was evident—his dominance over them.
"What did you find?" He asked with a cold tone, without even bothering to look at the other people around him. The way he stood told exactly everything. He was the boss here.
"We know in what hours he works, when he leaves the house and when he comes back. The trackimg device on the car is still there and he doesn't know about it," said one of the men, the taller one. Standing upright, looking out the window, perhaps looking for what the Captain really saw in him.
The blonde man nodded.
"Start preparing the second part of the plan," he said with a smirk on his face and gave with his hand a sign to both men that they might leave now.
Capitan, moments after them, also left the room, leaving only delicate traces of shoe prints behind. As he moved toward the stairs, his footsteps echoed deafly. With each step, the air became cooler and heavier. He descended a fairly hidden staircase, into a more remote part of the building, straight to the basement.
He pulled a small key from his pocket and removed the padlock from the metal door. Then he stepped inside.
It was a small room; paint peeling from the walls, and overhead pipes covered in rust and dust. In the rather cramped space, the only source of light was a small bulb in the middle of the ceiling, which, judging by its condition, had probably been there for years—it flickered constantly with a dim yellow glow. On the right side, various tools hung on a cabinet—ropes, knives, and other instruments. In the other corner stood a dark wooden chair, already set in place.
"Just a few more days," Capitan said to himself, running his fingers over the knife blade.
☆☆☆
Style woke up in the morning as usual. A few days had passed since he started living here with Fadel and Bison. Fadel had gone back to work, and Bison too. He spent most of his time at home—watching TV shows, sometimes cooking, or sleeping.
Today was a bit different. Fadel was supposed to take him to the market—to buy some things, clothes, and groceries. So Style waited for him to return from work. It was already 3pm so he should be back soon.
Style got out of bed and slowly started getting ready. He picked one of Fadel’s T-shirts from the closet and his own black baggy jeans. On top of that, he threw on a plaid shirt, leaving a few buttons undone so the T-shirt showed more.
He walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. The bathroom light flickered on as he stepped inside. He paused briefly, glancing at his reflection, fingers brushing over the hem of the shirt as if checking whether it sat properly. He turned the tap, letting the water run, watching as it shifted from cold to something warmer. The quiet sound filled the small space,
Leaning closer to the mirror, he ran a hand through his hair, fixing the strands that had fallen out of place during the night. His reflection stared back at him—familiar but...
Not the same as it used to be.
He splashed water onto his face, the warmth seeping into his skin, helping him wake up fully. Droplets clung briefly before sliding down, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand, exhaling softly.
"I think it looks fine.." He said staring at himself in the mirror.
His gaze lingered—on the way the fabric sat, on the lines of his posture, on every small detail that felt louder than it should. For a moment, he almost believed himself.
Until he noticed it.
His shoulder—more visible than it should be, too exposed. A small detail that already made his heart skip a bit.
A mistake.
His breath caught slightly as he reached up, fingers moving quicker than he intended, tugging the shirt back into place. He exhaled and smiled softly to the mirror. "You will be fine Style" He assured himself.
But — no matter how hard he tried to hide it — he was hurt. It's true. Everyday he made sure to smile softly, to act like his old self, to act like if nothing have changed but in fact he wasn't his old self. Anyone looking at him from the outside would have believed it. But he didn’t felt like the old Style anymore. It wasn't real.
Yeah, he didn't get raped since Fadel saved him, however...it still hurts. It hurts him as hell that every night he still feels these disgusting guys' hands on his body. He was never touched like this by anyone before. In fact, he was scared of physical touch. He acted confident but it was all just a lie, a mask. He always hoped to someday find a lover that he could experience every first thing with. Instead, he felt those hands sliding over his sides and chest, his nipples, going lower and lower...Even though he was dragged, he still remembered every single touch and punch, every detail. Every single left an aching pain in his fragile heart. Many days may have passed and the feelings still remained.
Just a few weeks ago he would say that the emotions that he felt the most were happiness and joy.
Now, it was anxiety and fear.
Deep, lingering fear that stayed buried beneath his mask as he tried to hide it.
He hated that.
He was embarrassed—embarrassed to admit that, especially to Fadel. Style still loved him. With every shared glance, every soft conversation, every small moment in between, they were getting closer. Closer than they had been before. Closer than Style had ever let anyone get.
And what was the worse part? Whenever they were on the verge of kissing, Style was getting too fricking scared, all of these memories came back to him and overwhelmed him, making his eyes darken and unabled him to move even a finger.
As others says...healing takes time
So, the most he managed to do with Fadel was hug. Actually...they were hugging pretty often. Even though Style felt scared, being in Fadel's embrace calmed him down.
When Fadel held him, the world seemed to quiet down.
His whispers make Style forget about that night and comforted him when he needed it the most. It was quite surprising that someone like Fadel—so cold at first glance, so distant and so hard to read—had hands that felt warm. Arms that didn’t let go of Style too quickly. A presence that didn’t make Style feel uncomfortable. A quiet patience that Style hadn’t realized he needed until he had it. That someone like him would wipe Style tears that he kept on trying to hide. That he manage to make Style feel okay.
He saw right through Style's true feelings.
Not fully, but enough to understand him. Enough to notice when Style was trying too hard to stay strong. Enough to notice the way his voice trembled just slightly when he thought no one would catch it.
He never made a big deal out of it.
He just stayed.
Held him.
And somehow, that was enough to make Style feel… okay.
He heard the door opening and quickly left the bathroom. Fadel just came back. Style walked closer to him.
"Are you sure you want to go?" He asked Style, making sure he was ready "You don't need to force yourself."
But Style already made up his mind "Yeah, I am sure, just...don't leave my side."
"I won't."
☆☆☆
That's how it went, just two sentences and they were already in Fadel's car. The engine started and a silent car ride began. Style thought that the last time he was in Fadel's car was that night, but just as we was about to start reminding himself of that a noise caught his attention
"Style"
It was Fadel. Of course it was him. Style looked at him with curiosity but the look on Fadel's face said it all. He knew. He knew where his mind wandered so Style slowly, waiting and giving the other a chance to back out, placed his finger on Fadel's hand an waited. Waited and then Fadel moved his hand, linking their Fingers tightly to comfort. They stayed like this until the car stopped at the market. Fadel got out of the car and Style right after him quickly making sure to stay right by his side.
It was Style's first time outside after that night. A cold breeze hit Style directly, prompting him to wrap his arms around Fadel’s hoodie, which he was wearing. The sun was gently covered by clouds that took up most of the sky. Since Style had Fadel’s hoodie on, he didn’t complain about the weather.
He looked around. A few cars and motorcycles were parked on the side. Stalls were slowly being set up. Most vendors usually started selling early in the morning, but this time Fadel had taken Style to a market in the evening—or night, whatever others called it. Style rarely visited places like this; he usually bought equipment for his workshop in larger automotive stores—different types of tires, replacement parts, and so on.
They walked together through the alleys. Fadel held an list in his hand. They needed to buy some groceries and a few clothes for Style, since right now he just wore Fadel clothes that he lend him. If he had to be honest...he really liked wearing them. He felt closer to the other man in them what he could say, he was just in love. That how it worked.
They walked head to head together. First they went for the meat that Fadel needed for his burger joint. It's been a while since Style have been there. All these days he spent staying at Fadel's place; sleeping in his bed, stealing his clothes.
The only thing that Style could do for him was cleaning, even though the other man didn't allow him to enter all the rooms. He found himself wondering—quietly—what Fadel could be hiding behind those closed doors. What kind of secrets the cold, man kept tucked away where no one else could see.
It wasn’t suspicion thought—not exactly. More like curiosity… mixed with something fragile and uncertain. Once, he was so close to breaking into that room. His hand had hovered there, fingers almost touching the handle, his heart beating too loudly in his chest. For a brief moment, he had almost convinced himself to go through with it.
But in the end, he backed away.
What if that one small mistake shattered everything they had built? What if Fadel found out and stopped talking to him? Or worse; told Style to leave and never come back again. That would truly break Style's heart. So after that, the thought of doing anything that Fadel forbid him from doing, never crossed his mind again.
☆
After getting a few things they went to the biggest stall with groceries. They still needed vegetables—and a few other things Fadel had written down. Without hesitation, Fadel stepped forward, greeting the older auntie behind the stall as he began listing items out loud, his voice calm and familiar, like he had done this a hundred times before. Style stayed right behind him.
Instead of listening, he let his gaze wander.
The alleys were beginning to fill with people, the quiet of earlier hours slowly dissolving into something louder, more alive. Voices overlapped—vendors calling out prices, customers bargaining. Some kids were still playing football around, trying to avoid the stalls. Not far from them, couples walked side by side, hands brushing, while families moved together in small clusters, discussing what to buy, what to cook and what they needed.
That's how life looks like. Style took a deep breath. Maybe the air was a bit polluted, he still felt relieved that he could breath some fresh air outside instead of staying inside.
When he turned around to check if Fadel had finished buying, he froze.
Fadel wasn’t there.
At first, it didn’t fully register. Style blinked, his eyes scanning the space where he had just been standing, as if he might reappear if he looked long enough. Style looked around—from one stall to another, many different faces, too many.
No sign of him.
His breath began to quicken.
“Fadel?” he called out, his voice uncertain at first, barely rising above the noise around him. Then, louder. “Fadel!”
No answer.
Without thinking, Style moved back toward the stall, his steps uneven as he approached the auntie. There was a slight tremor in his hands now, and his voice was not as steady as he wanted it to be.
“Sorry, did you see where he went? A tall man who just bought groceries from your stall.” he asked, trying to keep his tone calm, trying not to let the fear show too much.
The Auntie thought for a minute "No. He bought the stuff and walked away."
Style could feel his heart beating so freaking fast. He started stressing out.
He promised.
Fadel promised to not leave him. Style couldn't breath. He could feel like if the air was being taken out of his lungs. So he walked. He walked through the alleys to get out of here to an open space so he could breathe. He stumbled into a few people on his way, but he didn't even care. He apologizing to the quickly even though it more sounded like muttering. Style felt his whole body trembling. It was too much for him. He stopped. The was scared and lost. He didn’t even knew how far we walked away right now; and the most important—where Fadel was.
He took a step back and accidentally bumped into a food stall. He luckily just hit the wall as his back slides to the ground. His whole body trembled like crazy. His vision started getting blurry as he fighted the tears.
"Style!"
Did he heard that right? He looked up from his tearful eyes and saw Fadel looking for him. In the second their eyes looked at each other. As soon as Fadel saw Style on the ground; he ran over to him and slowly, not touching him first, he kneeled down.
"Style, are you okay?" He asked and his heart skipped a beat as Style in a second clung to Fadel body. He did the same right after. "Don't cry." He muttered and soothingly wiped the tears from Style's cheeks.
"Where have you been..." Style whispered and hide himself, from the people around, in Fadel's embrace.
"Shh, I will explain everything alright? Let's go back to the car." Fadel stated and helped Style get up guiding him towards the car.
☆
As they sat in the backseat, the door shutting with a quiet thud and the noise of the outside world faded away.
"I...I am sorry Style. I saw some man taking hidden pictures of woman on the other side of the alley, I had to move quickly. I was about to get back to you right after but you suddenly just wasn't there. I didn't mean to scare you."
“Mhm…” Style murmured, lifting his head just enough to look at him. His eyes were still a little unsteady, but calmer now. “I didn’t mean to get that scared either. It’s just… everything hit me at once.”
Fadel’s always cold expression softened.
Slowly, he reached up and cupped Style’s face in his hand. This time his touch was warm. His thumb brushed lightly against his cheek, as if trying to wipe away the other man's tears from before.
“It’s not your fault,” he said quietly. “Remember that.”
Style stilled.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The space between them felt different now—closer and intimate. Style’s gaze dropped briefly to Fadel’s lips before flickering back up. A warm feeling filled Style's chest.
He didn’t pull away—but he didn’t move forward either.
Fadel noticed. As he always did.
His hand lingered against Style’s cheek, giving him time—waiting, as if silently asking a question without forcing an answer. Style’s breath hitched—just slightly.
But this time… he didn’t freeze.
Slowly and still fairly hesitantly, he leaned in.
The distance between them closed in a quiet, fragile moment—until finally his lips brushed against Fadel’s.
He didn't move for a second, waiting for Fadel's reaction. For Fadel to kiss him back. Like he was testing whether it was real.
Fadel didn’t rush it. He stayed still for just a second, letting Style set the pace, before leaning in just enough to return the kiss.
He kissed Style's lower lip as Style's hand went onto Fadel's shirt—holding it tight. The kiss was slow, even though they both were waiting for so long to do that. None of them rushed, letting their feelings take over and making sure to not hurt the other.
As they slowly moved back, their foreheads were still touching. Their breaths still uneven but calmer now.
And for the first time in a while—
Style didn’t feel afraid.