Roommates With Benefits [BL]

•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•

Damien crossed the room. "Stop."

I looked at him. The intensity in his expression made my chest ache.

"You didn’t do anything wrong."

"But—"

"No."

His voice was firm enough to shut me up. "He deceived you." There was no room for argument in the way he said it.

"I still let him close."

"You believed he was a friend."

"But I barely knew him, I didn’t really trust him...but I should have realized." The self-recrimination kept looping, stubborn as a bad song stuck in my head.

Damien stepped closer, his hand resting on the back of my neck, the warmth of his palm anchored me. His thumb brushed once against the side of my throat, a small, grounding point of contact in the middle of the storm.

I stared at him and his eyes held so much anger it was almost terrifying...not because I worried he’d hurt me. But because I knew exactly who that anger was directed at.

Jeremy.

"Why does he hate you so much?" I asked. The question slipped out before I could decide whether I actually wanted the answer.

Damien’s expression shifted...just a little, but I caught it. A flicker of something older and sharper moved behind his eyes.

"There’s more to this, isn’t there?"

Damien studied me carefully. "I don’t know why, we haven’t really spoken much since we were preteens." The careful neutrality in his voice told me there was history there, the kind that didn’t get unpacked in a single midnight conversation.

I let out a frustrated sigh in response. Of course it couldn’t be simple. Nothing involving Damien’s past ever was.

"Do you believe her?" Damien asked.

"Melanie?"

"Yes."

I remembered the park, her tears, the photographs, the shame on her face. "Regrettably, yes. We have our answer to who was behind the blackmailing." The words tasted like resignation.

"No."

I frowned. "What?"

"We have a piece of the answer." His tone made it clear he was already three steps ahead, mapping out the rest of the puzzle while I was still staring at the first piece.

He let go of my hand and grabbed his coat off the hook, pulling it on with a decisive motion. The fabric snapped into place with practiced efficiency.

I blinked. "What are you doing?"

"I’m going to find Jeremy."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Right now?"

"Yes."

"Damien, it’s almost midnight." The clock on the microwave confirmed it with an unhelpful blue glow.

"I don’t care."

He slipped his arms into his coat, and I watched him with a mix of worry and admiration. There was something almost graceful about the way fury sat on him—controlled, focused, and completely uninterested in waiting until morning.

"Damn you’re extremely angry."

His eyes met mine. "I am beyond furious."

There was no humor in his tone.

No lightheartedness.

Just a thin layer of control barely masking his rage. It made the air around him feel charged.

"Someone watched you, took pictures of us. They manipulated Melanie. They threatened my family. They forced me into a decision between protecting you and dealing with my parents."

He stepped toward the door. Every word landed with quiet force.

"And now I find out the person responsible is someone I should have recognized." The self-reproach in that last sentence was subtle, but I heard it.

I threw on my jacket...Damien looked at me. "What are you doing?"

"I’m coming with you." I said in a duh tone. The zipper stuck for a second, because of course it did.

"No."

I stopped in my tracks. "Excuse me?"

"It might be dangerous, we don’t know else Jeremy is capable of." His voice had gone low and protective in a way that usually made me want to both kiss him and argue with him simultaneously.

"Yeah, which is why I’m not letting you go there alone." I slipped on my jacket. "I’m going with you." The second arm went in with more determination than grace.

"Oliver."

"Damien."

We both stared each other down, stuck in one of those moments where two stubborn people had to figure out who would back down first. The living room felt suddenly smaller.

I crossed my arms. "I’m sure as fuck not sitting around wondering what’s happening while you go confront the creep who’s been stalking us." My chin lifted a fraction, pure defiance mixed with residual caffeine.

His expression didn’t shift. "I don’t want you near him at all."

"Then don’t let him near me."

"That’s not funny."

"I wasn’t joking." The words came out steady, even though my heart was doing its best impression of a trapped bird.

That finally made him hesitate. I could see the internal debate play out across his face—protectiveness warring with the practical reality of dealing with me when I’d already made up my mind.

I walked over to him and stood my ground. "I know you’re angry."

"That’s an understatement."

"I realize you want to handle this alone."

"I do."

"But I’m involved here, whether you like it or not." I kept my voice even, refusing to give him an easy out.

His gaze softened just a bit and I reached up and adjusted the collar of his coat, giving my hands something to do rather than because it needed fixing. The fabric was still warm from where he’d been wearing it earlier.

"So I’m coming with you, take it or take it."

Damien looked at me for a long moment before exhaling through his nose. "You’re impossible."

"You’ve told me that before."

"And reckless."

"I’ve heard that, too."

"And stubborn."

"Alright, now you’re just listing my best qualities." A small spark of the usual banter flickered between us, thin but familiar.

The tiniest smile flickered across his face before disappearing as he shook his head. "Just stay by my side."

"I intended to."

"And if I tell you to leave—"

"I’ll think about ignoring you."

"Oliver."

"Fine. I’ll pretend to listen." The corner of my mouth twitched despite everything.

He shot me a look and I smiled back. It felt like the first real breath I’d taken since the park.

For the first time since Melanie handed me that envelope, I felt something other than helplessness. The anger was still there, thick and unresolved, but at least now it had somewhere to go.

I slipped my hand into Damien’s, and he gripped my fingers tightly as we stepped out of the dorm together, the cold night air rushing over us, biting into any skin that was exposed. The temperature drop was immediate and unforgiving.

The campus was nearly deserted at that hour, the pathways illuminated by pools of dim lamplight, while the rest of the university faded into darkness. Damien walked beside me, jaw clenched and expression unreadable, his hand holding mine firmly as though he couldn’t let go. Our footsteps echoed faintly against the stone.

For weeks now, we had been on the defensive.

The photographs, the blackmail, his parents, the threats.

Every time we thought we had one issue handled, another popped up from an unexpected direction. It was like playing emotional whack-a-mole with increasingly personal mallets.

But tonight felt different. Now, we finally had a name to all this fuckery.

Jeremy.

I glanced at Damien. He was staring straight ahead, every part of him radiating barely contained rage. The set of his shoulders said he was already planning several conversations, none of them pleasant.

"You alright?" I asked, squeezing his hand. The contact grounded me as much as it seemed to ground him.

He looked down at me.

"Yeah." The single word carried more weight than it should have.

And then I looked ahead once more. The path stretched out in front of us, quiet and waiting.

"Let’s go find the creep."

His eyebrow lifted slightly. Even furious, he still managed to look amused at my vocabulary choices.

"That’s the term you’re going with?"

"Would you prefer ’emotionally unstable photography enthusiast’?"

"No."

"Thought so."