Was Once the King: Chapter 25: The One Who Watches Too Closely
The day began gently. Hector and Benjamin spent the
morning tucked into their usual routine—coffee, shared glances over breakfast,
soft laughter echoing through the apartment.
Hector had always loved mornings with Benjamin. The
quiet, unhurried rhythm of two people who no longer needed to explain their
silences. No stage, no spotlight—just the click of mugs against marble and
Benjamin humming some half-remembered tune. It made Hector feel like the man he
was before the world decided who he should be.
The city outside bustled with its weekday rhythm, but in
their little home, time slowed.
By noon, they were at a studio event—an industry
networking showcase—where past and present creatives mingled. The atmosphere
was light, the food surprisingly good, and the attention just manageable.
Until Adrien Vale appeared again.
He arrived mid-afternoon, dressed in sleek navy and
confidence. The stylist team whispered about him—he was consulting on a
neighboring shoot for a high-end fashion drama. Coincidence or not, his
presence felt… deliberate.
Whispers began to ripple like static—some subtle, some
not. A cluster of influencers tilted their heads toward Adrien’s confident
stride, but more eyes drifted back to Benjamin and Hector. There was a new kind
of curiosity there, Hector noticed. A shift in the air. Maybe it was the way
Benjamin reached for his hand without flinching. Maybe people were starting to
believe what they saw.
Benjamin noticed him first. Adrien caught his eye from
across the room, lifted his glass slightly, and smiled.
"Guess who’s here again." Benjamin muttered
under his breath.
Hector followed his gaze and sighed. “Let me guess. The
man with a plan and no boundaries?”
Benjamin chuckled, low and reassuring. “You don’t have to
worry.”
“I’m not worried.” Hector said. “Just… aware.”
Later, while Benjamin was talking with a producer, a
coffee delivery arrived with a note.
‘For the brightest light in the room. —A.’
Benjamin stared at it, unimpressed. He didn’t even touch
the cup. Instead, he walked straight to Hector and handed him the note.
“Subtle.” Hector muttered. He folded the note once, then
again, before setting it aside like it might burn. It wasn’t jealousy—it was
the echo of a thousand old fears. Of being replaced, of being a moment instead
of a forever. He didn’t voice it, not yet. But the weight of it clung like
static.
“Ignore it.” Benjamin said. “I already have.”
The week passed with more of Adrien’s perfectly placed
appearances.
He brushed past Benjamin during rehearsals, complimented
his latest magazine cover, sent over fruit baskets and handwritten notes that
were politely ignored. Each message was met with silence—or returned unopened.
But that didn’t seem to stop him.
One evening, as they curled up on the couch with their
dinner, Hector said quietly, “What if he doesn’t stop?”
Benjamin looked at him, really looked. “Then we make sure
he understands the word no.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” Hector admitted. “I
just… know how easy it is to be worn down. To second-guess. I’ve been the one
left behind before.”
Benjamin reached out and framed his face with both hands.
“I’ve already chosen. I’m just waiting for him to realize he’s not in the
race.”
A week later, Adrien crossed the line.
It was backstage during an awards event—Benjamin had just
finished presenting. Hector was on his way to meet him when Adrien caught
Benjamin alone.
“You were brilliant tonight.” Adrien said smoothly. “But
I have to ask—how long are you going to keep dimming yourself?”
Benjamin blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Come on.” Adrien continued, leaning in just a fraction.
“You don’t belong in Hector’s shadow. You shine when you’re seen. When it’s
your name on the credits, your face on the cover. He pulls you inward. But you
were made for more.”
Benjamin’s smile was sharp. Icy.
“I don’t live in Hector’s shadow.” He said. “He’s the
light I came home to.”
Adrien opened his mouth to argue, but Benjamin had
already turned and walked away.
That night, Benjamin sat beside Hector on their bed,
recounting everything.
Hector listened in silence, the tension coiled in his
shoulders. When Benjamin finished, Hector’s jaw was tight, but his voice was
soft.
“Thank you.” He said.
“For what?”
“For always choosing me. Even when you don’t have to.”
Benjamin leaned in, kissed him deeply, and whispered, “I
never don’t choose you. Not once.”
Hector closed his eyes. In another life, in another
chapter, he would’ve waited for the other shoe to drop. For love to come with a
receipt. But here, in this one-bedroom apartment with walls they’d made their
own, Benjamin’s love felt like bedrock. Not fragile. Not fleeting. Real.
They lay together in the dark, their fingers intertwined.
Outside, the city buzzed. But within their walls, there was only the steady
rhythm of breathing. Trust unspoken. Love unwavering.
Adrien might chase shadows.
But Benjamin had already found his light.
And he wasn’t letting go.
The following evening brought a formal gala—an elegant
affair with velvet curtains, string quartets, and a guest list brimming with
industry elites. Hector and Benjamin arrived together, looking effortlessly
composed.
The moment they stepped onto the marble floor, Adrien
made his move.
He crossed the room like he owned it, champagne glass in
hand, smile sharp as ever. The crowd shifted slightly—curious eyes drawn toward
the quiet tension that followed his every step.
“Benjamin.” Adrien said smoothly. “Dance with me.”
Benjamin blinked. “Excuse me?”
“One dance.” Adrien said, stepping closer. “As friends.
Or… maybe more. Don’t you think we owe the room something iconic?”
Hector turned, eyebrows raised. He didn’t move—he didn’t
need to.
Benjamin’s voice was clear and unwavering. “No.”
The air tightened. A few people stopped pretending not to
listen.
Adrien laughed softly. “Come on. Don’t make this
dramatic.”
“I’m not the one making a scene.” Benjamin said. “You
are. And I’m done being polite about it.”
He stepped forward.
“I love Hector. That’s not up for debate. I’m not
flattered by your persistence. I’m tired of it. So let me be crystal clear: I’m
not interested. Not in a dance. Not in a moment. Not in you.”
Someone near the punch table gasped softly. A few others
stood frozen, wine glasses halfway raised. It wasn’t just a scene—it was a
stand. One that crackled louder than any speech.
Adrien’s expression faltered. For a second—just a
second—his mask dropped, and Hector saw it. Not anger. Not wounded pride.
Panic.
The room that once adored him wasn’t watching him
anymore.
Adrien’s smile slipped, just slightly. “You’ll regret
this.”
Benjamin shook his head. “The only thing I’d regret is
letting you think you ever stood a chance.”
He turned and walked away—straight to Hector, whose hand
slipped seamlessly into his.
As they left the dance floor together, the crowd
murmured—not with gossip, but admiration.
Because it was rare to see love that sure. That unshaken.
And rarer still to see someone choose it out loud.
That night, after the gala, they sat on their apartment
rooftop—city lights twinkling below, wind threading gently through Hector’s
curls.
“You okay?” Benjamin asked.
“Yeah.” Hector murmured, then smiled. “I think… I’m
finally starting to believe I deserve this.”
Benjamin didn’t answer right away. He just laced their
fingers together again.
“You were always the king.” He said softly. “You just
forgot.”
Hector closed his eyes, the crown of love heavier and
truer than any applause had ever been.
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