Things he almost remembers

The rain had settled into a permanent fixture of the estate, wrapping the glass walls in a persistent, soft blur. Damian hadn't looked at his corporate calendar in four days. The acquisitions could wait; the board could handle themselves.

For the first time in his life, the relentless drive that had defined his career felt entirely inconsequential compared to the quiet warmth of the mansion's interior.

Elias was sitting on the kitchen island, his long legs dangling, bare feet swinging in a slow rhythm. He was holding a green apple, turning it over in his sweater-swallowed hands but not eating it.

"We went to that little bistro near the harbor last winter, remember?" Damian asked casually as he poured fresh water into the espresso machine.

"The one with the terrible heating where we had to share a coat?"

Elias paused. His legs stopped swinging for a fraction of a second. He looked down at the apple, his dark brows drawing together in a faint, fleeting expression of uncertainty.

"I... think so?" Elias said softly. He looked up, offering a quick, self-deprecating smile. "My memory's been completely weird lately.

Everything feels a little foggy since last week."

Damian let out a low laugh, walking over to stand between Elias's knees, resting his hands on the boy's waist. "You've always had a terrible memory, sweetheart. You lost your keys twice a week."

"Right," Elias murmured, his smile widening as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Damian's chest. "I did. See? I'm completely hopeless without you."

It was a sweet, self-aware admission, but it lingered oddly in the air. The old Elias would have argued, listing off three separate occasions where Damian had been the one to lose something just to prove a point. Damian simply brushed a strand of dark hair from Elias's eyes, dismissing the small twinge of unease. People changed when they decided to mature. That was all this was.

Later that afternoon, they moved to the study.

Damian was reviewing some personal

investments while Elias curled up on the rug near the desk, lazily sketching on a pad of paper.

"We should plan a trip once the weather clears," Damian murmured, eyes on his monitor. "Maybe back to Kyoto. You loved the temples."

Elias didn't look up from his paper. "Did I? Maybe I just didn't like the weather that day."

Damian frowned slightly, pausing his tracking pad. "It didn't rain in Kyoto, Elias. We went in the spring. It was perfectly clear."

Elias stilled, his pencil hovering. Then, he laughed

—a soft, melodic sound that instantly diffused the tension-and looked up with wide, innocent eyes.

"Oh, right. I'm thinking of somewhere else. I told you, my brain is mush this week. But Kyoto sounds perfect. Anywhere with you."

He was so agreeable now. So soft. Damian felt a wave of intense gratitude wash over him, leaning back in his chair. The fiery, argumentative boy who used to storm out of restaurants over minor disagreements had smoothed out into a partner who simply wanted peace.

His phone buzzed on the corner of the desk. A brief glance showed a notification from his executive assistant, followed by a text from Noah.

> **Noah:** *Arthur called me.*

Damian didn't even read the full text before flipping the phone face down. They were all suffocating. His father, Noah, the firm-they wanted him to be the unyielding machine he had always been, but they didn't understand that he finally had a reason to slow down. He didn't need the outside world. He had his sanctuary.

"Who is it?" Elias asked, setting his sketchbook aside and crawling over to rest his chin on Damian's knee.

"Nobody," Damian said softly, running his fingers through Elias's soft hair. "Just noisy people."

"Good," Elias whispered, closing his eyes under the touch. "I like it better when you're relaxed."

They spent the rest of the evening in the living room, watching the fire crackle against the damp chill of the night. Elias was resting his head on Damian's shoulder, his breathing slow and even.

"Damian?" Elias murmured into the quiet room.

"Yes, love?"

"Do you ever feel like time skips sometimes?"

Damian shifted slightly, looking down at the dark crown of Elias's head. "What do you mean?"

"Like... you blink, and a whole hour has passed, but it feels like a second," Elias said, his voice entirely calm, almost philosophical. "Like the world is just waiting for you to catch up."

Damian smiled faintly, kissing the top of his head.

"No. I think you're just sleepy."

Elias hummed, a vibration of pure contentment against Damian's chest. "Me neither. Just thought I'd ask."

Before they went up to bed, Damian stopped by the entryway table to check his briefcase. His eyes caught a heavy white envelope resting near the key bowl-an invitation to a charity gala his family hosted every year. The date on it was tomorrow.

Damian stared at it, trying to remember when it had arrived, or if he had promised his father he would attend. The memory felt completely out of reach, blurred by a strange, heavy static.

"You don't need to go to that," Elias's voice came from the dark hallway. He was standing near the stairs, looking small and ethereal in the shadows, his hands tucked into his cream sleeves. "Stay here with me tomorrow."

Damian looked from the invitation to the boy waiting for him in the dark. The obligation to his family, the gala, the expectations-they all felt entirely meaningless.

"Yeah," Damian said quietly, leaving the envelope on the table and walking toward him. "I'll stay."

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