Seth lay on his back, naked, staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet except for the soft, even breathing of the man beside him, asleep and unaware. His body still felt the burn of what had just happened, a strange mix of adrenaline, heat, and something else—something he hadn’t felt in years. He wasn’t used to intimacy. Not like this. Not since Alex had died, not since the hospital had accused him of stealing medication, not since he’d been fired and left to spiral through months of loneliness and bitterness. Alex had been the only person who ever treated him like more than the scary old man everyone else assumed he was, the only one who had made him feel seen, even when he doubted himself.

His eyes drifted to the nightstand, where a small notebook peeked out from under a pile of papers. Something compelled him to reach for it, and the moment he saw the handwriting, his chest tightened. Alex. Every careful loop, every familiar stroke, brought memories crashing back—Alex’s voice, his laugh, the rides on the motorcycle when they talked about everything and nothing, the trust, the friendship, the one person who had never judged him.

Seth flipped it open almost without thinking, and then his eyes caught a name. The man lying beside him.

He froze. His stomach twisted, a mix of disbelief, guilt, and a strange, helpless awe. He pressed a hand to his mouth and muttered under his breath, “Oh shit… I just fucked my friend’s kid…”

The words tasted wrong on his tongue, heavy and bitter. He pressed the notebook to his chest, his hands shaking slightly. He remembered the hospital again, the accusation, the firing, the nights he had spent riding aimlessly on his motorcycle, trying to outrun the hollow ache of grief. He remembered Alex’s death, the way he had broken down alone that night, hitting walls, sobbing like a child who had lost his only anchor. And now… this. The child he had never known existed, lying beside him, asleep and oblivious to the revelation he had just uncovered.

Seth didn’t move him. He couldn’t. He just sat there, trying to breathe, trying to let the weight of it settle without crushing him entirely. He ran a hand over his face, muttering, “I can’t… I can’t believe this…”

The room stayed silent except for the soft rhythm of his breathing and the quiet presence of the man next to him. Seth felt the familiar gnaw of guilt, the ache of grief, and a sudden, sharp awareness that his life had shifted in a way he wasn’t ready for, that this connection to Alex—through the one person he had never expected—was now something he couldn’t ignore.

He leaned back, pressing the notebook against his chest, feeling the intensity of his emotions—grief, guilt, awe, and something like responsibility—pressing down all at once. For the first time in years, Seth felt a storm of feelings he couldn’t outrun, not on the road, not in his solitude, not even in the brief release of reckless intimacy.