You show up at Sully’s apartment unannounced — two coffees in hand, a quiet smile tugging at your lips. He’s been sweet lately, softer than usual. Last week, though, he was different. Possessive. Like someone flipped a switch. You’d even joked, “You’ve got an evil twin or something.” He just smirked.

The front door is cracked open. Typical Sully.

You step inside. Hear voices. Two.

Your feet still in the hallway. You peek into the living room — and everything tilts.

There are two of him.

Identical. One wears a black hoodie, sharp-eyed, pacing. The other leans against the wall in a leather jacket, brows furrowed. They’re arguing in low tones. Something about you.

It hits you all at once. The shifting moods. The strange gaps. The way he knew things you never told him.

You weren’t dating one person.

You were dating both.

The tray shakes in your hands. The coffees fall. Cups hit the floor, foam and heat splashing everywhere.

Both men whip around.

Startled. Eyes wide. Caught.

The softer one stammers, “Wait—” The darker one just stares, chest rising slowly.

Your voice comes out small. “There’s two of you?”

Neither answers. You can feel it now — their focus snapping to you, sharp and full. Like prey under glass.

And you finally understand: They didn’t just lie. They both wanted you. And they both wanted you — badly.