The afternoon sun had begun its slow, orange descent over the Manila Bay, casting long, amber fingers of light through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Rockwell condo. The quiet hum of the air conditioning was the only sound until a groan, deep and primal, echoed from the hallway.
Kaito emerged from the bedroom like a ghost that had been through a centrifuge. His hair was even more chaotic than it had been, and he was squinting at the light as if the sun had personally offended him. He was clutching a pillow to his chest, his gait unsteady.
Jake, still wrapped in the cashmere throw Markus had given him earlier, looked up from the book he had been trying to read. Markus was in the kitchen, nursing a cold brew and staring intensely at a tablet, likely tracking a fleet of trucks in the south.
"Water," Kaito croaked, collapsing onto the sofa next to Jake. "I need water. And perhaps a new heart. Or a lobotomy. Whichever is faster."
Markus didn't even look up from his tablet. "Kitchen sink. Help yourself."
Kaito groaned again, burying his face in the pillow. "You're a cold man, Markus. A stone. A mountain of ice." He turned his head sideways, blinking blearily at Jake.
"Hey, Princey. You still look like a Renaissance painting. How do you do that? I look like a wet cigarette."
"I... I had a very good mango," Jake offered, feeling a strange mix of pity and amusement.
Kaito sat up with a wince, leaning closer to Jake. The smell of stale tequila had mostly dissipated, replaced by the scent of Markus's expensive laundry detergent.
"She dumped me, Jake. Did I tell you?" Kaito suddenly uttered like a child. "Over a text. A text. 'It's not you, it's the lack of emotional depth.' What does that even mean? I'm deep! I'm a canyon! I have layers!"
Jake shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sure you are very... multilayered, Kaito."
"I gave her everything!" Kaito continued, his voice rising in that operatic quality again. "I bought her a vineyard in Tuscany! I fly her to Tokyo just for sushi! And she says I'm 'unavailable.' I'm a tech mogul, Jake. I'm literally connected to the cloud twenty-four-seven! How much more available can a man be?"
Markus let out a sharp, irritated huff from the kitchen island. "Maybe she wanted a boyfriend, not a service provider, Kaito. Shut up and drink some water."
Kaito ignored him, his red-rimmed eyes narrowing as he focused on Jake. A mischievous, drunken glint began to replace the sorrow. "What about you, your Royal Highness? You're hiding out here in the slums of Makati with this grumpy ogre. Who are you running from? A Princess? A Duchess? A secret commoner lover?"
Jake felt a flush of heat rise to his cheeks. "I am not running from any person."
"Boring!" Kaito chirped, leaning in even closer, invading Jake's personal space in a way that would have made a royal equerry faint. "Come on. A guy who looks like you? You must have a trail of broken hearts from here to London. Is there a girl? A lucky lady waiting in a castle?"
"I... I don't have a girlfriend," Jake said, his voice hesitant.
"Aha!" Kaito pointed a finger at him, swaying slightly. "A boyfriend? A secret scandal? Tell Uncle Kaito everything. Is that why you're here? Did the King find out you've been naughty?" he teased him.
"Kaito, leave him alone," Markus growled. He had put down his tablet. His posture had changed—he was no longer the relaxed host. His shoulders were bunched, and his grip on his coffee glass looked tight enough to shatter the lens.
"I'm just asking!" Kaito defended, his voice getting louder and more grating. "I'm curious! We're roommates now, aren't we? A Prince and a Convict and a Heartbroken Genius. It's a sitcom! So, Jakey, tell me. What's your 'type'? Do you like them tall? Blonde? Do they have to have a title, or do you prefer someone who can... I don't know, take you down in a fight?" Kaito nudged Jake's shoulder playfully, but his voice was like a drill in the quiet room. "I bet you like them bossy. You look like you need someone to tell you when to put your shoes on. Is that it? Are you into—"
BAM!
Markus slammed his hand down on the zinc counter. The sound echoed through the condo like a gunshot. Jake jumped, and Kaito actually fell back against the sofa cushions.
"That's it," Markus said, his voice dangerously low. "Out."
Kaito blinked, confused. "What? Out where?"
"Out of my condo," Markus said, walking over with a predatory stride. He didn't look like the man who had just served Jake mango cubes. He looked like the man who had survived the underground. "You're loud, you're annoying, and you're giving me a headache. You're sober enough to call a driver. Go home, Kaito."
"Wait, what did I do?" Kaito scrambled to his feet, clutching his pillow like a shield. "I was just bonding! We were having a moment!"
"The moment is over," Markus said, grabbing Kaito by the back of his unbuttoned silk shirt and steering him toward the door. "You're reeks of self-pity and you're making the air heavy. Go sleep in your own mansion. Call Kian if you want to cry. I'm done."
"Markus! You're being emotionally unavailable too! It's a literal epidemic!" Kaito wailed as he was shoved toward the foyer. "Jake! Help me! Save me from the beast!"
Jake watched, wide-eyed, as Markus opened the heavy oak door and unceremoniously nudged Kaito into the hallway.
"Call me when you've had a shower and a personality transplant," Markus snapped, and then he slammed the door shut, the lock clicking with a definitive, heavy thud.
Silence returned to the condo, but it wasn't the peaceful silence of before. It was charged, vibrating with a strange energy that Jake couldn't quite name.
Markus stood by the door for a moment, his back to Jake, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He looked... agitated. Far more agitated than a "noisy friend" should have made him.
Markus finally turned around. He rubbed a hand over his face, his eyes landing on Jake, who was still tucked into the cashmere blanket on the sofa.
"He was... he was just being Kaito," Jake said softly, breaking the tension. "You didn't have to be so... physical."
"He was talking too much," Markus grunted, walking back to the kitchen. He started aggressively cleaning the counter, even though it was already spotless. "I have work to do. I can't think with him chirping like a broken bird."
Jake watched him for a long minute. He thought about Kaito's questions. He thought about the way Markus had reacted—the sudden, sharp defense of Jake's privacy. Or was it something else?
"Markus?"
"What?"
"Kaito asked if I had a girlfriend," Jake said, his voice steadying. "I told him no. But... what about you?"
Markus stopped scrubbing. He slowly turned his head to look at Jake, his expression unreadable. "What about me?"
"Do you have a girlfriend?" Jake asked, his heart doing that strange, uncomfortable flip again. "Is there someone who... who has a key? Someone I'm going to be intruding upon if I stay here?"
Markus let out a short, dry, and incredibly sarcastic laugh. He leaned back against the sink, spreading his arms wide to gesture at the dark, minimalist, and decidedly masculine space around them.
"Look around, Jake," Markus said, his voice dripping with irony. "Do you see a woman's touch anywhere in this tomb? Do you see flowers? Do you see a second toothbrush? Do you see anything that isn't black, grey, or made of cold metal?"
Jake looked around. The condo was beautiful, but it was a fortress. It was a place designed for one person to hide from the world.
"No," Jake admitted.
"Exactly," Markus said, his gaze dropping to the floor for a split second before snapping back to Jake's. "Women don't exactly line up for a guy with a record and a personality like mine. I'm a 'nuisance,' remember? I'm the guy people hire to move their heavy shit, not the guy they take home to meet their parents."
"I don't think that's true," Jake said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Markus locked eyes with him. The sarcasm faded, replaced by a raw, searching look that made the air in the room feel thin. "Yeah? Well, your opinion isn't exactly the gold standard, Your Highness. You've been here two days. You don't know me."
"I know you gave me a blanket," Jake whispered. "And I know you kicked your best friend out because he was making me uncomfortable."
Markus stiffened. "I kicked him out because he was making me uncomfortable. Big difference."
He turned away, grabbing his tablet and heading toward his office. "You can rest in that sofa. And keep the blanket. It's cold in here."
As the office door shut, Jake let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He snuggled deeper into the cashmere, the scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Markus enveloping him.
He didn't have a girlfriend. Markus didn't have a girlfriend. And for some reason, as Jake drifted toward a nap, that realization felt more important than any "perspective" he had ever been sent to find.