The crushing pressure on my spine vanished. Boris slowly loosened his iron grip, stepping back and leaving me sobbing weakly against the cold hardwood floor.

  "You keep ruining yourself because your cup is always full, Derro. That is why you keep making the exact same mistakes over and over again. Your cup is already full of rotten milk," Nikoy said, his voice dropping into a low, steady cadence.

  I felt two massive hands grip my shoulders. Boris effortlessly hauled my dead weight off the floor, propping me up until I was sitting cross-legged, forced to look directly at Nikoy.

  "Empty your cup, Derro!" Nikoy ordered, pointing at my chest. "Throw away the rotten milk!"

  "…How?" I choked out. My voice sounded pathetic, hollow, and utterly desperate. "How do I do that?"

  "By stopping your endless running. You have to face reality," Nikoy said. The manic, party-boy facade was completely gone. He was speaking to me with the stern, soothing authority of an older brother pulling a sibling back from the ledge.

  "You do not make mistakes because you are trying to be a good person, Broda," a deep, rumbling voice echoed.

  I looked up. Boris had broken his usual intimidating silence. He sat down heavily on the floor right beside Nikoy. His stone-cold expression melted into something incredibly soft and empathetic. "You make mistakes because you try so fucking hard to act like the bad guy."

  I stared at the giant Russian, completely stunned.

  "You think we keep you around because of your old man’s money? Or because you act like a crazy maniac at the clubs?" Boris rumbled. "Bullshit. We respect you because you take care of your people. Do you even remember what you did for us?"

  My brow furrowed in genuine confusion. The tears blurred my vision. "I don’t understand what you're talking about."

  Boris smiled—a rare, incredibly warm expression. "That is exactly why we respect you, Broda. The fact that you do not even remember doing it proves that your actions are genuine."

  "Do you remember st winter, when you forced Andrew to cook golubtsy every single time my mother called me, just to cure my homesickness?" Nikoy asked softly. "Do you realize that you always go out of your way to help Andrew clean up our messy apartment, and you spent time with him more just because you knew he was the quiet introvert of our group? Or what about when you started stockpiling massive crates of orange juice in our fridge every single week until Andrew and I were sick of looking at it, all just because you noticed Boris loved to drink it?"

  Nikoy paused, letting the memories hang in the quiet air of the loft. "To you, maybe those were just mundane, everyday acts. But to us? That means everything, Derro. It showed us your true character. It showed us that you actually protect the people around you. That is why you are our brother."

  My chest violently caved in. The tears poured freely down my face. I had spent months trying to become a toxic, maniputive monster, completely forgetting that the very reason these guys let me into their circle was because I was a good, observant friend.

  " That is why Andrew stepped up and took your punch st night without fighting back, Derro", Nikoy said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze my trembling shoulder. "He considers you his best friend. We all consider you our brother. And brothers do not let brothers turn into monsters."

  I couldn't speak. I just wept, nodding my head.

  "We are going to give you time to settle your business with Gaby," Nikoy stated, his tone shifting into firm, protective accountability. "We trust that you will make a good, sober judgment after this. But we are giving you two weeks, tops. If you do not handle this like a man, we will come pick Gaby up ourselves. We have already arranged a safe apartment for her to stay in if things between you two do not work out."

  They had already set up a safety net for the girl I was abusing. They were saving us both.

  "…Thank you," I sobbed, completely overwhelmed by their grace.

  Both of them smiled genuinely, the heavy tension in the room finally evaporating.

  "Trust yourself, Derro," Boris rumbled, cpping a heavy hand on my knee. "We always have your back."

  Boris pulled out his phone and made a brief call to Andrew. Five minutes ter, the front door opened. Andrew escorted Gaby inside, gave me one final, curt nod, and then the three brothers walked out, pulling the heavy metal door shut behind them.

  The silence they left behind was deafening.

  I wiped my raw face with the back of my hand and slowly stood up. The manic fog was completely gone. I needed to be brave. I needed to face my problems head-on and finally be the man Jessica and the brothers thought I was.

  Gaby stood near the entryway, her arms wrapped defensively around her own stomach. She looked incredibly upset and terrified. I didn't know what Andrew had told her while they were waiting in the hallway, but the awkward, heavy tension between us was suffocating.

  I took a deep, shuddering breath. I couldn't run anymore. It was time to put all my cards on the table and finally end this nightmare.

  "Can we talk about this, Gaby?"

  She flinched. She refused to meet my eyes, staring intensely at the floorboards. "… I can’t right now. I… I promised to hang out with my friends."

  She dashed past me, escaping into the bedroom. A second ter, she hurried out with her purse and rushed out of the front door without saying another word.

  I walked into the kitchen and pulled a cold beer from the fridge. My chest physically ached watching her run away like that. She was absolutely terrified of having "the talk" because she knew exactly how it was going to end. It was entirely my fault. Nikoy was right. I was a fucking coward. An indecisive, self-absorbed monster. I was completely disgusted with myself.

  The sun set, plunging the city into darkness, but Gaby still hadn't returned. I sat on the sofa in the dark, staring at my illuminated phone screen, desperately waiting for a reply to the texts I had sent her. The silence was deafening. Eventually, the mental exhaustion took over, and I passed out on the cushions.

  "Baby…"

  I woke up in a haze. I blinked against the dark, finding Gaby standing quietly beside the sofa, clutching her purse to her chest.

  "You just got back?" I sat up, checking the glowing screen of my phone. It was 2:00 AM. "Are you alright, Gaby?"

  "Were you waiting up for me, baby?" she asked, her voice impossibly small.

  "Yeah," I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "But don’t worry about it. Listen... we really need to talk, Gaby."

  "It’s already so te, baby. Let’s just go to bed, okay?" she deflected instantly, her eyes pleading with me to drop it.

  "I’ll take the couch tonight, Gaby. It’s—"

  "—Please." She lunged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck in a desperate hug. "Please. At least sleep in your bed tonight. I’ll take the couch if you need the space. Just don't push me away yet."

  Fuck.

  "… Alright," I whispered, gently rubbing her back. "Let’s go to bed."

  We walked into the bedroom. But when we id down, the dynamic had completely shifted. She didn't press herself against my chest or cling to my arm. She stayed on her side of the mattress, staring at the wall.

  For the next week, she built a fortress of absolute denial. Every day was aggressively, sickeningly normal. She reverted to her cheerful, tidy self, but the dark, submissive lust was completely gone. She didn't initiate sex once.

  I texted Andrew, begging to know what he had said to her in the hallway to cause this shift. He just replied: ‘The necessary things.’ Whenever the atmosphere in the loft felt safe enough, I tried to gently breach the topic of our breakup.

  "Look, the pacing in this book is actually incredible! You should read it!" Gaby beamed, waving a horror paperback at me in the mini-library.

  "No way, Gaby. The st time you recommended a book, it gave me nightmares," I ughed softly. I set my own book down, taking a deep breath. "Anyway, Gaby... can we talk abou—"

  "Baby! I’m going to make some ravioli!" she loudly cut me off, jumping to her feet. "I finally learned the recipe, and you absolutely have to try it! Wait right here!" She sprinted out of the library and into the kitchen, loudly cttering pots and pans to drown out my voice.

  It was always like this. The second the illusion was threatened, she ran. And I was too guilty to force her to sit down and listen. I had already broken her heart; the least I could do was be patient and let her let go on her own terms.

  **

  Exactly one week ter, the denial finally broke.

  Gaby was sitting on the floor cushions in the mini-library. She didn't have a book in her hands. She was just staring bnkly at the empty shelves.

  "Baby... can we talk for a moment?" Her sweet, trembling voice broke the heavy silence.

  "Yes?" I closed my textbook, my heart dropping into my stomach.

  "I think... I’m going to move out tomorrow."

  The words stung perfectly.

  "I think your friend was right. You need a lot of space right now," she whispered. She looked at me, a subtle, heartbreaking smile fighting through the sorrow on her face. She wasn't angry. She was just defeated.

  A sharp, agonizing tingle of guilt spread through my ribs.

  "So... can I just cuddle with you tonight, baby?" Her brown eyes were swimming with unshed tears. "I promise, it’s only cuddling."

  "… Yes. Of course."

  She smiled brightly, a beautiful, tragic expression. "Thank you."

  That night was the longest night of my life. My emotions were completely fractured. I held her as she slept peacefully against my chest, staring at the ceiling and silently praying that she would find someone who actually deserved her light.

  The next morning, Andrew pulled his truck up to the loading dock to pick her up. He had arranged for her to move into a smaller apartment closer to campus. Right up until the moment she walked out of my door for the st time, she kept giving me that bright, warm, forgiving smile. She still had my spare key attached to her keychain, but I didn’t ask for it back. I would let her return it when she was ready to completely close the door.

  **

  After she moved out, the Russian crew stepped up. Nikoy, Boris, and Andrew visited the loft constantly, or I would go hang out at their pce. We still hit the local bars, but we just drank and shot the shit like normal guys. There was no wild exhibitionism. No manic stunts. I knew they were deliberately holding back to protect my sobriety.

  Nikoy started aggressively pushing me to get a part-time job. His intention was obvious: keep my hands and my mind busy so I wouldn't rot alone in my empty loft. I agreed with him. Boris pulled some strings, and within a few days, I was hired as a part-time barista at a busy local cafe.

  When the Fall Semester started, I was officially walking the campus as a real sophomore. My lie was finally the truth.

  Sometimes, I would pass Gaby in the crowded quads. We didn't stop to talk, but she would always catch my eye, fsh her warmest smile, and give me a cute little wave.

  It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. Sometimes, I selfishly wished she would just scream at me and hate me. Her unwavering grace was the ultimate punishment. Because every time I went home after seeing her, I didn't sit in the mini-library. I sat out on the balcony.

  Thankfully, my new schedule kept me grounded. Between my sophomore csses and my barista shifts, I was constantly distracted. I was actually getting good at my job, talking with dozens of strangers every day, slowly relearning how to be a functioning human being.

  But still, whenever the loft was too quiet, my eyes always drifted back to the gss doors of the balcony. The ghost was still there.

  Until October 2012 finally arrived. The month I decided I was going to pack up the ghost and completely move on from this sad, broken mess. But true closure had to begin with one st visit, and one final goodbye, from the most genuine person I had ever met—the girl who became the victim of my manic ego.

  Gabriel.