Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 265

I’ve always avoided the three of them. Cut them out because it was easier, or at least that’s what I wanted to believe. But Dorian.....Dorian’s different. There’s more than just not wanting to be reminded of the past. There’s that persistent thought that never fully left, back when everything fell apart. Small, but there. That if Dorian hadn’t been such an asshole, hadn’t chosen that night to pick another fight with Joe, I would’ve stayed at the restaurant. I would’ve been there, maybe I could’ve done something to make sure Joe stayed alive, which might’ve meant Andrew stayed alive too.

It was a dark, suffocating thought on top of all the darkness that already existed. But back then, it was the anger that fueled everything.....how I thought, how I spoke, how I moved through the world. I never told Dorian. Hardly let myself ponder it. But some part of me always knew he could tell whenever I looked at him. Always knew that a huge chunk of my anger had been aimed squarely at him.

The line rings, sharp in my ear before he picks up. Then there's silence for a beat before Dorian calls my name, low, cautious. I clear my throat and say, “Hello.” Already, I regret it. I’ve never called any of them first. They always call me. Always check in. Always give me the chance to push them away.

“This is a surprise,” he says. “You okay? Something happen?”

I shake my head, trying to sound casual, though my words feel hollow even to me. “No, everything’s fine. Just.... thought I’d check in.” My voice falters a little, betraying the awkward hesitation curling in my chest.

There’s more silence, then a soft huff of a chuckle. “You sure you’re good?” His tone carries something I don’t like, a mixture of shock and dread, like he doesn’t trust this call. Like he knows I never call for no reason, and there has to be a reason.... probably dark, probably dreadful.

“I’m sure,” I say. “Everything’s okay. How're you doing?”

“I’m good,” he says finally. “Had to rescue Nate from some shit last week, Ohio of all places. Otherwise....can’t complain. I'm currently in New York, just got here last night, actually.”

“For work?”

“It’s always for work,” he answers with a chuckle. Then he flips it back to me. “How about you? Anything bothering you? How’s work?”

“I’m good.” I say yet again, then I add quietly, “I actually quit The Pit.”

There's silence, the kind that hangs thick and accusing.

“Reason?” he asks.

I shrug, hoping it sounds casual. “Figured it was time to make a change.” I pause, clear my throat, and add, “Plus my boyfriend wasn’t really a fan of the place.”

A soft laugh escapes him. “So it’s true then, you’re really seeing someone.”

I’m not surprised, of course Nate told them both.

“That’s good.... really fucking good,” he says. And then, chuckling, almost embarrassed, “Nate actually showed me pictures of the guy. I'm half convinced he’s got a crush on him. What's his name again?”

“Xander,” I mutter, short, unsure why this feels so odd.

“Well, look at you,” he says after a beat, and there’s a smug approval there masked in his usual edge. “Actually dating someone. Huh.” Then his tone softens, genuinely curious. “You happy?”

The question catches me off guard. It’s genuine. Not the cold, sharp, calculating Dorian I know he is with everyone else. I nod slowly, deep breath filling the spaces in my chest like I’ve been holding it for years, finally letting it out.

“Yeah, I'm happy.” The words feel foreign but powerful. They hang in the line, and I mean them. I let it settle before I clear my throat and finally force the words out. If I don't bring it up, then this call will have been for nothing. “Dorian,” I start, my voice rough. “I know that back when I was locked up, you always came to see me.”

I hear him before he answers, and my mind drifts, even as my words hang between us. He made sure he visited every week, sometimes twice a week. At first it had been with Nate and Kieran, a kind of team effort, but then alone, because Nate and Kieran eventually realized I probably wasn’t ever going to say yes to seeing them. But Dorian kept visiting. For a whole year until eventually, he stopped.

And I always claimed I was relieved he stopped. That he'd finally gotten the message. But that was just the cowardly part of me, the part that was terrified of seeing either of them again while I was locked up, with all the time in the world to think about what had happened, to agonize over it.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that,” I admit finally, the words tasting bitter and soft at once.

“It’s cool,” Dorian says immediately. “You were hurting. You needed space, time. I just felt responsible, I’d already fucked up. And then, as if it wasn’t bad enough, you ended up in there. I'm pretty sure I was mostly just trying to soothe my own conscience.”

It hits me then, I’d never even stopped to consider that he blamed himself too. That the last interaction he'd had with his father had been a fight where angry words were exchanged. That maybe, he carries a guilt that's as heavy as mine. My stomach knots.

“You know,” he says, voice careful, “I called you a few times a couple weeks ago, I heard from Nate that your boyfriend had some kind of accident. I got worried. Thought about flying over, checking up on you....but I didn’t want to make things harder. How's he doing? Nate says he's fine now.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Yeah, he’s recovering. He’ll be okay.”

I catch myself on the word.

Okay.....

I let it sit on my tongue, strange and new. Somehow, it feels like it could catch me if I fall. I’m starting to like it again. There’s a softness to it I didn’t expect, a quiet kind of promise that doesn’t shout, doesn’t demand. It’s hopeful. Dangerous, fragile hope, but hope all the same.

Dorian’s quiet for a moment, so I go ahead and say, “What happened back then, it messed me up pretty bad.”

“I know. We all do. Nate wanted to stay back, keep an eye on you, but I dragged him with me when I left. Told him he was just a kid, that you wanted to be left alone, so that’s what we did.”

I swallow, hearing the old memory in his words. “You wouldn’t have stayed regardless,” And I know it’s true. They’re not built for one place.

“Still,” he counters, voice soft but carrying the weight of the past, “I should’ve tried harder.”

The words hit me like a mirror. I’ve said the exact same thing to myself a hundred times.

“It’s in the past,” I tell him finally, trying to keep my voice steady. “All of it. We’ve got to accept what happened and just try to move on.... I'm learning that now.”

“That’s true, we should. Especially you, Jax.”

I chuckle dryly, hollow. “I’m trying.”

Footsteps scrape softly on the floor, and I know Xander’s up. “I’ve got to go,” I tell him. “But I’ll try and call more often.”

“I’d like that. Might drop by sometime, say hi.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks for calling,” he says, and I tell him no problem, cutting the call as I turn around. And there's Xander, standing in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep, eyes still blurry. He's barely conscious, like he’s moving through a dream, and I can’t help the soft laugh that slips past me. I watch him as he drags himself closer. Then he presses his forehead to my chest and drapes his arms around me.... even loosely, it feels like the world contracts.