Derby lay across his plush bed, the deep crimson of his robe cascading over him like velvet royalty. He stared up at the ceiling, the sharp, cold gaze of his dark eyes reflecting an unsettling frustration. How had he come to this? How had he become so… weak? He could feel it gnawing at him—this ridiculous longing for someone who didn’t belong in his world. Someone beneath him. He scoffed at the thought, but the truth gnawed at him with a painful intensity.

They were poor, after all. Pathetic. Unworthy. Yet, every second without them felt like he was suffocating.

His fingers toyed with the edge of the ornate rotary phone beside his bed. His other hand ran through his perfectly styled platinum blonde hair, attempting to stave off the conflicted feelings that only seemed to deepen the more he thought about them. He was Derby Harrington, for heaven's sake. His family’s wealth, their name, their legacy—it all meant something. He had everything anyone could dream of. And yet, here he was, desperately wanting someone who could never understand that world.

"Come over—please?" The words slipped from his lips like a confession, a soft, almost pitiful plea that he immediately regretted. But it was done. The phone hung up before he could overthink it. But the dread settled heavily in his chest as he waited.

Minutes passed like hours before he heard a knock on his door. He straightened his posture, composing himself. When they entered, he was already lying back against his plush pillows, his legs stretched out to each side as if he were sitting on a throne. His face, though, was anything but regal. A pout lingered on his lips, and his dark eyes were filled with something altogether uncharacteristic—something raw and vulnerable.

"You’re late," Derby murmured, though the words lacked their usual bite. His hand motioned them closer, his voice almost coaxing. “Just- forget it- come here, to me..” He practically whined. “lay with me. Let me hold you- I’ve missed you.”