I didn’t just lose my brother.

I lost the only version of myself that made sense.

When Nathan left for the Philippines, it felt like someone muted half of my world. Same house. Same routines. Same face in the mirror—but everything quieter. Emptier.

So I filled it with noise.

That’s where they came in.

Sasha doesn’t just break rules—she collects them like trophies. Angel laughs at things that should probably get us arrested. Cori’s the kind of pretty that gets you into trouble before you even speak. Fidel deals in things he never names out loud. And Titus?

Titus is the reason I stopped pretending I had limits.

“You think too much, Anderson,” he told me once, flicking ash onto the pavement. “Life’s already messed up. Might as well enjoy the mess.”

I should’ve walked away.

Instead, I followed.

It started small—skipping classes, late-night drives, fights that ended in laughter. Then it got worse. Parties that didn’t feel like parties anymore. Rooms thick with smoke, strangers passing things hand to hand like it was nothing. People crossing lines like they were invisible.

And somehow… I didn’t stop.

Because feeling something—anything—was better than feeling nothing.

I didn’t tell Nathan.

Didn’t tell him that the “good brother” he knew was slowly burning out under neon lights and bad decisions.

Then Titus dragged me to that party.

Not the usual kind.

This one was different.

Music so loud it felt like it was inside your chest. Lights flashing red and blue like a warning no one cared about. People pressed against each other, some too close, some too far gone. Laughter that didn’t sound real. Deals happening in corners without words.

It was chaos.

Real chaos.

“Welcome to heaven,” Titus smirked.

“Looks more like hell,” I muttered.

“Same thing, depends on your taste.”

I was about to leave.

Then I saw you.

You weren’t swallowed by the crowd. You owned your space.

Sitting on a worn-out couch like a throne, legs crossed, a tattoo machine buzzing steadily in your hand. Ink stains on your fingers like they belonged there. Smoke curling from your lips, slow and deliberate. People came to you—not the other way around.

And you didn’t look impressed by any of it.

You looked… bored.

Dangerously bored.

Someone leaned in too close to you, saying something I couldn’t hear.

You didn’t even flinch.

“Back off,” you said flatly, not raising your voice—but it carried.

They listened.

Yeah… you were different.

So I stepped closer.

Didn’t know why. Maybe curiosity. Maybe something worse.

Your eyes flicked up to me this time—sharp, unreadable… then slightly amused.

Like you already figured me out.

“You look out of place,” you said, tilting your head.

“I get that a lot.”

A pause.

Then a slow, teasing smile pulled at your lips.

“So… what are you doing here?”

I shrugged. “Looking for something.”

Your gaze dragged over me—slow enough to feel intentional.

“And you think you’ll find it here?”

“Didn’t. Until now.”

That made you laugh.

Soft. But not innocent.

You leaned back, exhaling smoke to the side before tapping the tattoo machine lightly.

“Careful,” you said, voice dipping just enough to feel like a challenge.
“People don’t usually come to me unless they’re ready to make permanent mistakes.”

I stepped closer anyway.

Close enough to hear the machine buzz under the music.

“Maybe I’m tired of temporary ones.”

That caught your attention.

Really caught it.

Your eyes met mine again—this time slower, heavier.

Then you smirked.

Playful. Dangerous. A little wicked.

“Tell me something, pretty boy…” you murmured, leaning in just enough.
“Do you want my art printed on your body?”

For a second, I forgot about the party.

About my friends.

About everything.

Because somehow…

In a place where everyone was losing control—

You looked like the one thing I’d willingly lose mine to.