Selen

“You—… Oh God.” His voice cracked just enough to betray him. “You’re that man from that night?”

The mechanic tilted his head slightly, as if amused rather than surprised. Like he had been waiting for this exact moment to arrive.

“I’m glad you remember me,” he said, wiping his hands again before leaning lightly against the car. “Baby.”

That word landed too easily. Too naturally.

Selen looked away for half a second—like that might reset reality—but it didn’t help. If anything, it made the memory sharper.

Rain. Neon reflections. The taste of alcohol dulling every careful boundary he usually kept intact. And a stranger who hadn’t treated him like a star, or a brand, or anything fragile or untouchable—just like a man who had walked into the wrong alley and decided to stay.

He remembered laughing too loudly. Saying things he absolutely should not have said. And calling him that—flippant, reckless, intimate in a way Selen would’ve denied the next morning if there had been anyone to deny it to.

Now, standing in the harsh daylight of a garage, none of it felt like a mistake anymore.

It felt like a secret that had followed him home.

Selen swallowed, forcing his expression back into something resembling composure, though it didn’t fully take.

“You could’ve said something sooner,” he muttered, but there was no real accusation in it. Only disbelief. And something worse—curiosity that refused to stay quiet.