Roommates With Benefits [BL]

For a few seconds, everything was still. The room fell into a strange silence after I’d hit Jeremy, which was pretty impressive considering the music was still blasting somewhere behind us, as if the speakers hadn’t caught on that a whole emotional mess just unfolded.

Jeremy still lay sprawled on the floor under those ridiculous purple neon lights, one hand pressed against his face, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

I stood a few feet away, my chest heaving so hard that I could almost hear my own heartbeat.

The whole scene felt like someone hit pause on a terrible reality show, forgetting to mute the soundtrack, leaving us frozen in this awkward, glowing display of bad choices and worse lighting.

My knuckles were throbbing.

Actually, calling it ’hurting’ was an understatement. They were on fire and swollen now, and each time I flexed my fingers, a sharp jab shot up my hand and into my wrist.

Apparently, punching someone was way tougher than it looked on TV.

Who knew?

Well I did, but I hadn’t punched anyone since highschool freshman year...and man, did it feel good.

Damien still had a firm grip on my arms, making sure I didn’t suddenly decide to go after Jeremy again and kick him on the nuts.

Judging by his expression, he wasn’t exactly confident I’d learned my lesson.

I wasn’t sure I had either.

There was still a spark of pure, undiluted anger simmering in my chest, the kind that made me want to lean over and ask Jeremy if he had any more brilliant confessions lined up for us that night.

Jeremy slowly propped himself up on one elbow, looking a total wreck.

I might’ve felt bad for him, but then I remembered how he’d spent the last twenty minutes explaining how he manipulated me, stalked us, ruined Damien’s family relationships, and used my life to weaponize against someone he was actually obsessed with.

So, yeah...no sympathy.

If anything, seeing him in this state just confirmed my fist had managed to deliver a pretty clear message.

He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand and stared at me, still managing to look smug despite everything.

That annoyed me even more than the blood.

There’s something really offensive about someone bleeding on a stranger’s floor and still managing to wear that look like they just won a minor debate trophy.

Damien seemed to notice too.

His grip tightened for a moment before he released me, stepping in front of me to place himself between Jeremy and me.

His face was frighteningly calm now, not angry in that loud, obvious way most people show. Damien’s anger was a lot worse than that.

It was quiet and calculated.

Every movement of his seemed controlled, as if he was making an effort not to lose his cool.

I noticed how his shoulders relaxed, his voice stayed steady, and I felt a random flicker of admiration for how he could turn silence into a threat.

"You’re going to stay away from us," he said.

Jeremy let out a weak laugh from the floor, but Damien didn’t budge.

"I don’t care what you do with your life, who you hang out with, or how you’ve managed to ruin whatever’s left of your reputation. That’s none of my concern anymore."

Jeremy’s smile faltered.

"But if you come near Oliver again," Damien’s voice dropped slightly, "if you follow him, reach out to him, take pictures of him, threaten him, or involve yourself in our lives in any way, I promise you tonight will be the least of your problems."

Jeremy stared up at him, actually speechless for once. I looked at Damien from behind him and, despite the whole situation, a tiny part of me wanted to cheer him on.

There was something almost terrifyingly attractive about him in moments like this, though I knew this wasn’t the right time to admire my boyfriend’s way with words.

Still, my brain seemed to think appropriate timing was optional.

I mentally filed away my thoughts under "things to process later when my hand stops hurting."

Damien bent down and picked up the envelope that had fallen near the coffee table.

He glanced at the scattered photos on the floor, collected them carefully, and slid them back into the envelope like he was handling something delicate.

Jeremy tracked his every move, still convinced he had some leverage left.

"You think you’ve won?" he asked quietly.

Damien straightened, looking stoic.

"I don’t think anything."

Jeremy smiled, but his face tightened in pain.

Damien just stared at him. Jeremy’s eyes flicked between us, and then he said.

"You have no family left." There was a twisted satisfaction in his voice. "Your parents hate you, your sister doesn’t know what to do with you, and you’ve thrown away your inheritance, your position...everything your family built for you."

His gaze shifted to me. "And all of that for just him. For someone with nothing to offer in return but his ass, it’s a nice looking ass yeah...but surely you know it isn’t enough."

I felt my jaw tighten. His words hit like someone had rehearsed them in front of a mirror.

Jeremy chuckled softly, "You’re going to lose, Damien."

Damien said nothing in response.

Jeremy wiped another streak of blood from his lip. "Because at least I still have a family that will stand by me and fight with me no matter what. Don’t worry, sweetie...I’ll let you know how it feels like."

That was it, I moved before I even thought it through, Damien caught my arm right away. "Oliver."

"I won’t hit him again I promise." I lied, "I just wanna get a little closer to him to talk."

"No."

"Damien, let me—"

"No."

Jeremy actually smiled then. He knew exactly what he was doing.

That smug look on his face was enough to make my blood boil all over again; I could practically feel the urge for a second punch bubbling up in my shoulder.

"You see?" he said, "He’s making you angry too."

I struggled against Damien’s hold.

"That little—"

"I said no."

Damien’s voice was low. I stopped...not because I suddenly became rational, because clearly that trait had left me somewhere between the checkbook and the coffee incident, but because Damien’s expression shifted.

He looked at Jeremy, really looked at him. Then he let go of my arm.

I blinked. "Damien?"

He stepped forward. Jeremy’s grin vanished.

"You wanted to know what I think?" Damien asked quietly.

Jeremy swallowed hard.

Damien then punched him.

The sound echoed through the room. Jeremy’s head whipped sideways, and he hit the floor again, a satisfying thud that somehow sounded both gratifying and slightly expensive.

And Jeremy was out like a light.

I just stared, for a moment, I completely forgot how to breathe. The neon lights kept flickering as if nothing happened, which made it all feel even more surreal.

Damien straightened up slowly, his hand hanging loosely by his side. He looked down at Jeremy.

"That’s for touching what’s mine."

I blinked at him, then back at Jeremy, then back at Damien.

"Okay," I murmured, "didn’t see that coming."

Damien glanced at me. "He deserved it."

I couldn’t argue there. Mostly because my hand was starting to feel like it had been run over by a truck, and I had no desire to find out what Damien’s punch did to his knuckles.

There was a good chance that between us, we’d invented a new form of shared regret.

Jeremy groaned from the floor, but Damien didn’t look back.

"Stay away from us." Then he headed for the door. I followed him.

As I passed Jeremy, I stole one last glance at him. He lay there staring at the ceiling, breathing heavily, his previous confidence completely wiped away.

For once, I didn’t feel like being sarcastic...I was just tired.

Tired of him, tired of the photos, tired of the blackmail. Tired of uncovering one horrible truth after another about people I’d trusted and let into my life.

Most of all, I was exhausted by the feeling that our lives didn’t belong to us anymore.

The neon buzzed behind us as if trying to convince us it was just another Tuesday night party that had gone a little off the rails.

I followed Damien out into the hallway. The door slammed behind us, and the loud music faded instantly, replaced by the building’s quiet hum and the soft echo of our footsteps on the carpet.

I exhaled.

"Well," I said, glancing at Damien, "that was a pleasant social call."

He looked at me. "You punched him."

"You punched him too."

"You punched him first."

"Sure, but I was emotionally compromised."

"So was I."

I met his gaze, and we held it for a moment. Despite everything, I let out a tired laugh. "Fair enough."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!