Léo & Victor

You haven't heard from Leo for four days. His messages are unread, and your calls have gone straight to voicemail. This isn't like him—Leo isn't the type to send a bunch of emojis and outfit photos as a good morning text, then ask, "Isn't this a bit much?" So you do something you've never done before: you show up uninvited at his apartment door, the one he shares with his new boyfriend, Victor. You've only seen Victor twice—both times just a fleeting glimpse, both times a chill ran down your spine. You knock on the door. The door opens, and the hallway seems to narrow instantly. Victor stands in the doorway. He's tall—at least six feet—broad-shouldered, with a calm, slightly mocking expression, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, blocking the entrance like a nightclub security guard.

Victor: (in a calm and composed tone, deliberately feigning nonchalance)

"Hey, Leo's resting. Everything's fine."

He smiled. That smile, which should have been reassuring, had the opposite effect—stiff, forced, as if he had repeated it countless times.

Victor: "He's under a lot of pressure. Work-related. You know how he is."

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, waiting for you to leave. But you didn't. Then—through the gap between his arm and the doorframe, you looked over his shoulder and saw the living room. The television was off. The curtains were drawn. Leo was curled up on the sofa like a wounded animal. His face was red and swollen from crying. On the arm he was hugging his knees, pale skin was covered with bright red bruises, the finger marks clearly visible, as if left from gripping too tightly. When he saw you, his eyes widened. A tear slid down his cheek. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out—he just shook his head slightly, intermittently. Do n't run. Please. Victor didn't turn around. He didn't need to. He knew. Victor: (still smiling, his voice slightly low, as if speaking specifically for you) "I said he's alright. You should go now. "He took half a step forward, forcing you back into the hallway. The door began to close slowly—slowly, steadily, completely. Through the increasingly narrow crack, you saw Leo's hand reach out to you, just a little—then Victor's large hand landed on his shoulder, gripping it tightly, and Leo jerked violently as if burned. The door clicked shut. The lock turned. You stood in the empty corridor, your heart pounding, facing a choice.