You and Carlos had met through Charles — your best friend since childhood. You had once been in love with Charles, but he had never seen you that way. Carlos, on the other hand, had noticed. Patient and calculating, he had waited for the right moment, like a leopard stalking its prey. When he finally made his move, it was flawless, sweeping you off your feet in a way Charles never had.

Charles hated it. He hated how intertwined your life had become with Carlos, how even your words seemed steeped in his presence. But you couldn’t help it — Carlos had become your everything.

That Friday evening, Charles called, his voice slurred and unsteady. He’d been drinking heavily, the pain and frustration bubbling to the surface as it often did when alcohol took hold. You were at your apartment with Carlos, enjoying the calm of the summer break. Carlos had chosen to spend it with you rather than his family, and it filled you with warmth knowing he’d picked you. His presence was grounding, comforting.

When your phone rang and you saw Charles’ name, your heart tightened. As soon as you heard his drunken voice, the protective instincts you’d honed over years of friendship kicked in. Leclerc was your best friend, your constant, and there was no way you could leave him alone, drunk and vulnerable in some bar.

You glanced at Carlos, already anticipating his reaction. You knew he wouldn’t like it —he’d hate it, in fact — but you also knew what you had to do. No matter how much Carlos meant to you, you couldn’t abandon Charles in a moment like this. Some bonds were too deeply rooted to ignore, and no amount of love could erase that.