Chapter Two-Hundred Fifty-Eight: Love Changes

Chapter 258

Love Changes

Celeste knelt on her lawn as she was hooking up the water sprinkler. She heard the stroller wheels against the pavement. Celeste didn’t rise.

Celeste: “What do you want, Ivy?”

Ivy stopped in her tracks.

Ivy: “I came to see how you’re feeling. I’m sure being cheated on by your boyfriend isn’t something any woman should take lying down. I’m sure you know how I feel…”

She gritted her teeth.

Ivy: “Since you fucked MY AIREN!!!”

She screamed.

Celeste grunted, wrestling with the heavy, sun-baked garden hose that seemed determined to maintain its stubborn, coiled shape. Her gloved fingers, slick with a fine sheen of dirt, fumbled with the metal connector as she tried to thread it onto the outdoor spigot. After several muffled curses and three attempts to align the gritty threads, the connector finally caught, tightening with a satisfyingly solid click.

She marched back to the lawn and cranked the handle; a sharp hiss preceded the rhythmic, heavy thrum of water surging through the green line. The sprinkler head gave a few tentative stutters before it began to oscillate in a smooth, sweeping arc, casting a refreshing mist into the humid air. Celeste stood back, wiping her hands on her thighs with a small, triumphant smile just as the peaceful evening was punctuated by a rhythmic, metallic sound. She pulled off her disposable gloves and tossed them in the trash.

Ivy: “Stop fumbling with that stupid thing and pay attention to me!”

She stomped her feet.

Celeste: “Why?”

Ivy sneered, her eyes gleaming with malice as she held up her camcorder.

Ivy: “You think I’m making this up? You think I’d waste my time with lies?”

She jammed the “play” button and shoved the device into Celeste’s face, nearly poking her with the plastic casing. The tiny LCD screen flickered to life, displaying a grainy but unmistakable scene: Fabien, standing in the cozy, dim light of the restaurant booth, swaying with effortless, teasing grace. He rolled his shoulders and glided across the floor, flashing a provocative, crooked smirk directly at Lena. The footage captured him leaning down, his green eyes sparkling with mischief, as he performed a sultry, deliberate dance that was clearly intended for her eyes only.

Celeste froze, the water from the sprinkler spraying harmlessly behind her as she stared at the screen. Her jaw tightened, a flash of pure, cold disbelief momentarily clouding her features before the sting of reality set in. She looked from the camcorder back to Ivy’s triumphant, twisted grin.

Ivy: “Face it, darling: Chelsea is dead, but her spirit lives on in Lena.”

Celeste looked away.

Celeste: “Well, he does this for his job and crap.”

She stated. Ivy smiled.

Ivy: “Your tiny little brain belies you, sweetheart.”

She chuckled.

Celeste: “I dunno what you want me to say, Ivy.”

She looked up at the sky.

Ivy: “You could start by groveling to me and begging my forgiveness for fucking my airen!”

She sneered, pointing to the ground.

Celeste: “You aren’t even with Tristan! You never were because you bitched at him for missing a lunch date and killed Chelsea!”

She snapped, glaring directly at her.

Ivy: “Yes, Celeste, blame ME for Chelsea’s death! You were sleeping and being lazy as you always are, but blame me!”

She started to choke.

Celeste: “I was sleeping because YOU drugged me!”

She fired back. Ivy sobbed.

Ivy: “I did not! Chelsea did it to get Jiro!”

She wept. Celeste furrowed her eyebrows.

Celeste: “It was you! Your ass is bigger!”

Ivy sneered at her.

Ivy: “I AM NOT FAT!!”

She screamed.

Celeste didn’t offer a verbal rebuttal; instead, she lunged for the nearby garden hose, her hand clamping firmly around the trigger nozzle. With a swift, practiced motion, she aimed the spray directly at Ivy’s chest and squeezed. A powerful, freezing jet of water blasted forward, catching Ivy mid-breath. Ivy’s scream of rage instantly morphed into a high-pitched shriek of pure shock as the drenching spray soaked through her expensive clothes and sent her camcorder flying into the wet grass.

Ivy: “MY DRESS!! MY HAT!! MY SHOES!!! YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!”

She caterwauled.

Ivy, looking utterly disheveled and pathetic in her drenched clothes and dripping hat, scrambled toward the wet lawn to retrieve her camcorder. Her fingers clawed through the mud-smeared grass until she snatched up the device, wiping a streak of grime across its lens with a trembling hand. She then lunged for the handle of the stroller containing Samson and stormed off down the street, her heels clicking unevenly on the pavement as she continued to shriek frantic insults in Mandarin back at Celeste until her voice was nothing more than a ragged echo in the humid evening air.

~

Fabien returned home from his shift later that evening. After unclipping his server pouch and throwing it onto the armchair, he headed into the bedroom to shower.

Emerging from his bedroom nearly half an hour later, he had changed into a black T-shirt beneath a red flannel plaid shirt, paired with jeans and flip-flops. He retrieved a cold beer from the refrigerator and returned to the living room, where he caught sight of Celeste peering out from behind the couch. Fabien smiled at her and strolled over.

Fabien: “Are you hiding from me?”

He teased.

Celeste didn’t answer him. Fabien sat on the couch and smiled down at her.

Fabien: “Is there something wrong?”

Celeste: “I dunno.”

Fabien smiled warmly at her.

Fabien: “You can talk to me, mon chaton.”

He murmured.

Celeste rose to face him.

Celeste: “Why did you do that dance for Lena?”

She blurted.

Fabien’s warm smile faltered, replaced by a look of genuine confusion as he set his beer down on the coffee table. He furrowed his brow, searching her face for any sign that she was joking.

Fabien: “What do you mean?”

He asked, his voice laced with bewilderment.

Fabien: “It’s the restaurant’s signature routine, Celeste. Most waiters do it when the music starts; it’s just part of the performance for the customers.”

Celeste folded her arms and pouted.

Celeste: “No, it’s not!”

She huffed.

Celeste: “I saw you with other people and the other waiters. They never did that crap!”

She added. Fabien let out a long, heavy sigh, rubbing his temples as he leaned back against the cushions. He looked utterly exasperated, yet he took a deliberate, slow breath, clearly fighting to keep his tone level.

Fabien: “Celeste, I can’t control what the other waiters do. Some put in more effort than others, and some are just lazy. But for me, it’s a job. My intent was purely professional—it’s about the tips and the atmosphere, nothing more.”

He paused, his gaze softening with a mix of hurt and weariness as he looked directly into her eyes.

Celeste: “No! It’s not what I saw! You’re doing to me what Jaxon did to Chelsea.”

Fabien hung his head.

Fabien: “This is NOTHING like what Jiro did to you…”

He raked his fingers through his hair.

Fabien: “Jiro paid NO attention to you while focusing on Chelsea. Tristan noticed you were always sleeping. This doesn’t correlate!”

He threw his hands up.

Fabien: “I love you, Celeste. I’m here, right now, with you. Why would I jeopardize that for a split-second interaction at work? You’re projecting fears onto me that I haven’t earned, and it’s pushing me away instead of bringing us closer.”

He stood up, his posture rigid with frustration, and began to pace the small living room.

Fabien: “I get that you’ve been hurt, and I get that things in the past were twisted, but I am not Jiro. Every time you accuse me of these things, it’s like you’re trying to force me into a role that doesn’t exist. I’m just trying to work, come home, and be with you.”

Celeste folded her arms over.

Celeste: “You still let Lena come here and make lunch for you!”

She snapped. Fabien heaved a long sigh.

Fabien: “Yes, she did. I thought she was looking for Jiro, but she was looking for me and made BLTs for us. Nothing happened. I was hungry.”

Celeste: “ ‘cause you’re always smoking that crap!”

She pointed to his cannabis. Fabien paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the cannabis on the table. He took a sharp breath, trying to keep his composure.

Fabien: “Wow, that was a low blow!”

He laughed bitterly.

Fabien: “You’re really going to attack how I unwind after a long shift? My choice to smoke doesn’t turn me into a cheater, Celeste. That’s a ridiculous reach, and it’s honestly insulting.”

He walked over to the coffee table, his movements sharp and controlled. He snatched up the bag of cannabis and, without looking, tossed it onto the sofa cushion behind him, burying it out of sight. He turned back to her, his expression weary.

Fabien: “I’m not the enemy here.”

Celeste: “You do that shit Tristan does! When someone tells him crap, he twists so the other person looks bad and he comes out flawless!”

She barked. Fabien recoiled as if she’d slapped him, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides.

Fabien: “That is incredibly unfair, Celeste!”

He shouted, his voice cracking with a mixture of anger and hurt.

Fabien: “I am not twisting anything. I’m being as blunt and honest as I possibly can be, but you’re so determined to see a villain that you aren’t even listening to me! I’m tired of being the punching bag for your baggage! Stop trying to find Tristan or Jiro or whoever in every word I say and actually look at the man who is standing right in front of you!”

Celeste: “Yeah, and I am so sure every Danny Donger’s waiter would serenade some 18-year-old girl while she tickles his palm!”

She folded her arms in front of her and pouted.

Fabien: “What? How do you even know that? I do a lot of stuff like that. It’s an act! If I acted like Blair or even Deimos, I wouldn’t get any tips!”

He threw his hands up.

Fabien: “I laid the praise on thick for an old lady earlier for fuck’s sake! I’m not getting the third degree for that!”

He fired back.

Celeste: “Because whoever that old lady is doesn’t actually want you.”

Fabien stared at her, his expression twisting into a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. He let out a harsh, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn't quite fathom the mental gymnastics she was performing.

Fabien: “Oh, so that’s the metric? It’s only ‘cheating’ if they’re young enough or interested enough to be a threat? That’s twisted, Celeste. I’m doing my job—I’m being charming, attentive, and entertaining—because that’s what puts money in our pockets. Whether the customer is an eighteen-year-old girl or an eighty-year-old grandmother, I treat them with the same level of professional courtesy. You’re penalizing me for doing the very thing that keeps this household running.”

He hissed at her.

Celeste: “Pfft, I make more than you.”

Fabien stopped cold, his jaw dropping slightly as the pettiness of her remark hit him. He let out a sharp, hollow laugh that held no amusement, pacing back a step as if her words had physically shoved him.

Fabien: “Wow. Seriously? We’re debating my loyalty, and you’re suddenly making this about who pays the bills? That’s fucking low.”

He crossed his arms tightly, his eyes blazing with a mixture of betrayal and exhaustion.

Fabien: “I’m here trying to keep us together while you hunt for ghosts, and you’re trying to make me feel small because I don't pull in as much cash as you! I’m not your subordinate, Celeste, and I’m definitely not your enemy! But if you’re looking for a reason to push me away, you’re doing a hell of a job!”

Celeste: “I’m not huntin’ for ghosts, Fabien! I’m huntin’ for the truth that you’re trying to bury under all this ‘professionalism’ and ‘unwinding’ crap!”

She spat, her voice rising with a defensive edge as she ignored his hurt expression.

Celeste: “You’re doing exactly what Jaxon always does—making me feel like I’m the crazy one for noticing what’s right in front of my face. You’re gaslighting me! You act like a bachelor at work and then come home and expect me to just ignore it because you’re ‘tired.’ It’s not my baggage, Fabien; it’s your behavior!”

Fabien stared at her, the silence in the living room stretching thin and suffocating. His face went pale, the anger draining away to leave only a hollow, stunned disbelief. He looked at her, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to steady himself against the back of the couch.

Fabien: “Gaslighting? Is that really what this is to you?”

His eyes filled with tears as a sharp, mirthless laugh escaped him.

Fabien: “I have spent every single day trying to be the man you need! I work, I come home, I try to talk through your doubts, and today I am met with nothing but accusations and comparisons to Jiro! If you really think I’m that manipulative, that calculated... then maybe you’re right about one thing.”

Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he spun around and snatched his keys in one swift, erratic motion.

Fabien: “Maybe I am the problem. Because I don't know how to be the person you’re looking for when you’re so determined to see me in the same vein as Jiro.”

He marched toward the front door, his heavy footsteps echoing across the floor.

Celeste suddenly intercepted him, throwing her hands flat against the door to block his exit.

Celeste: “You’re not leaving!”

She spat out. Fabien halted immediately, his chest rising and falling sharply as he stared down at her hands braced against the wood. While he refrained from physically pushing her away, his heavy gaze simmered with an intense blend of resentment and absolute, bone-deep exhaustion.

Fabien: “Get out of the way, Celeste.”

He spoke with a quiet, dangerous flatness that carried more weight than any of his earlier shouting.

Fabien: “You don’t trust a word I say, you think I’m a liar, and now you’re physically forcing me to stay?! What do you think this is going to accomplish?!”

He looked at her hands, then back up to her eyes, his shoulders slumping as if the fight was finally leaving him entirely. Celeste sneered at him, not moving an inch.

Celeste: “NO! You’re not going anywhere!”

Fabien: “Blocking the door is not going to fix this…”

He didn’t yell; the sheer coldness in his voice was far more alarming. He stood perfectly still, his eyes locked onto hers with a searing, unblinking intensity that seemed to drain the air from the room. The fight had drained from his shoulders, leaving him rigid and frighteningly composed.

Fabien: “I am not staying here to be insulted, interrogated, and trapped. Move, Celeste. Now.”

Celeste: “NO!”

She shouted, tightening her grip on the doorframe. Fabien let out a ragged, humorless laugh, his gaze flicking to her hands before returning to her eyes with a terrifying stillness.

Fabien: “You want to trap me here?”

He asked, his voice barely a whisper, yet it cut through the room like a blade.

She lunged forward, her fingers darting out to clamp around his wrists. She shoved him backward, pinning him against the wall beside the door. The thud of his shoulders against the plaster echoed in the living room. Fabien didn’t struggle; instead, he went limp against the wall, staring down at her with a mix of shock and hurt.

Fabien: “Is this really where we are now, Celeste?”

He didn’t fight her grip. He just stared, tracing the knuckles of her hands where they pressed against his wrists.

Fabien: “You’ve spent all evening tearing me apart, looking for shadows of Jiro in my actions, and now you’re resorting to this.”

He let out a shaky, jagged breath, his head resting heavily back against the wall.

Celeste: “I ain’t letting you go! You’re gonna have to fight me!”

She growled. Fabien’s eyes darkened, the shock slowly hardening into a cold, grim realization. He didn't tighten his muscles or push back; instead, he relaxed his stance completely, letting his head loll slightly against the wall behind him.

Fabien: “Fight you?”

He chuckled, a dry, hollow sound that barely reached his lips.

Fabien: “I’ve been fighting for us all night, Celeste. You’re the only one who seems to want a war.”

Celeste slammed his wrists against the wall.

Celeste: “You’re not fucking going anywhere!”

Spinning him around, she slammed his wrists against the door of the closet. She held back from using her full force.

Her hands remained clamped around his wrists as she maneuvered him into the bedroom, pushing him to lean forward across the desk while she stood positioned directly behind him. She thrust her hips so his groin rubbed the edge of the desk.

Fabien: “Why are you doing this…?”

He turned his head over his shoulder to look at her.

Celeste: “ ‘cause I don’t wanna lose you!”

She blurted.

Celeste: “I don’t wanna another fuckin’ Jaxon and Chelsea incident!”

She added.

Celeste: “I’m crazy about you, and I’d be an idiot to let you go! You’re the best thing to ever happen to me!”

She snapped.

Fabien: “If I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, then why are you treating me like a prisoner?”

His voice was barely a whisper, thick with a jagged, heartbreaking tremor. He didn’t try to pull away from her grip, his eyes searching hers with a raw, overwhelmed exhaustion.

Celeste: “Because I fucking love you!”

She hissed through clenched teeth. Fabien let out a choked, humorless laugh, his head sinking further against his shoulders as the weight of her admission hit him.

Fabien: “Then love me, Celeste. If you really love me, then trust me.”

He closed his eyes.

Celeste slowly released her grip from him. Fabien didn't move at first. The sudden lack of pressure against his wrists left him feeling strangely untethered, his arms dropping heavily to his sides as he remained hunched over the desk. He took a long, ragged breath, the sound loud in the quiet room, and slowly turned his head to look at her. The anger had drained out of him, replaced by a profound, hollow weariness that made his movements sluggish.

He pushed himself away from the desk, finally standing upright, though he didn't step toward her. He looked at her, his eyes searching hers, looking for the woman he knew beneath the erratic, desperate persona she had been projecting all evening.

Fabien: “Don’t ever do that again.”

Celeste backed away.

Celeste: “I don’t wanna be with you anymore. It’s over.”

She said evenly. Fabien stood paralyzed for a moment, the finality of her words hanging in the air, sharper and more painful than the physical struggle moments before.

Fabien: “Celeste…?”

He murmured, knitting his eyebrows.

Celeste: “You kept doubling down instead of seeing why this upset me! You always have to be right!”

She snapped.

Celeste: “This is why I want to end it with you!”

She said as she pounded the wall.

She turned to look at Fabien, her chest heaving with the effort of her outburst. He stood perfectly still, as if the force of her words had anchored him to the floor. Tears welled in his eyes, shimmering in the dim light of the bedroom before tracing silent paths down his cheeks. His face held a look of profound, quiet heartbreak, a raw and exposed vulnerability that mirrored the devastating finality of her declaration.

Fabien: “I see.”

Wiping his tears away, a mirthless laugh escaped him.

Fabien: “Well, Celeste, I’m sorry… Thank you for tolerating me as long as you did.”

The single, hollow word was the final crack in his dam. Fabien’s shoulders suddenly buckled, and he collapsed back against the desk, his head falling into his hands. A sharp, ragged sob escaped his throat, followed by a succession of violent, chest-heaving tremors. He stood there for a long moment, gasping for air through the thick, stifling veil of his grief, his entire body shaking with the force of his weeping before he finally managed to draw a trembling breath.

Celeste turned her back, not wanting to face him. I’m sorry, Fabien, she thought as she embraced herself and stepped out of their house.

Stepping out onto the lawn, she lifted her gaze toward the pair of moons overhead, surrounded by the rhythmic chirping of crickets while allowing the cool spray of the sprinkler to soak her. She then jumped into the night air.

Ivy stepped out with a big grin on her face. And now you know how I feel about when you fucked my airen, she thought.

~

While Deimos was lounging back and having a beer on his backyard patio, Celeste relayed everything that had happened to him. She explained what Ivy had shown her, the subsequent fight she had with Fabien, and their eventual break-up.

Deimos: “So basically, you’re repeating what I did with Tristan because I listened to that bitch?”

He asked in an even tone.

Deimos: “Do you know where that got me? I had to fight tooth and nail to get him back. I also cheated on him because of my stupid insecurities. Celeste, you tried to patch Tristan and me up, so the least I can do is help you.”

He said firmly, sipping his beer.

Celeste: “But I saw footage of him dancing for Lena! She was tickling his hand, and he was singing those songs to her!”

She insisted.

Deimos: “Yes, Celeste, it’s a part of that job. This is why I could never work at Danny Donger’s. I would have to be nice to idiots and losers, which I cannot do.”

He said evenly.

Celeste: “But he had lunch with her! Lena went to our house to make him lunch, and he ate it!”

Deimos: “Well, you steal people’s snacks and my snacks, and you don’t have a thing for me.”

He shrugged.

Deimos: “She’s like her brother. She makes food to impress people, and Fabien loves food as much as you do. I’m sure that weirdo roommate of his would have eaten it, and he only loves people with nuclear stinky feet.”

He twisted his mouth.

Celeste: “I know, you had to replace your boots ‘cause he kept stealing them!”

She chirped. Deimos waved his hand.

Deimos: “Don’t fuckin’ remind me!”

Deimos heaved a deep sigh.

Deimos: “Look, listening to Ivy almost ruined Tristan and me. Ivy will never get him, but I don’t want to see you go down the same path of destruction I did.”

He knit his eyebrows.

Deimos: “And did I ever.”

He sighed.

Deimos: “I almost lost everything because I listened to that dumb bitch. This is why you never take advice from someone who thinks Hallmark movies are peak cinema.”

Celeste hung her head.

Someone stepped through the sliding glass doors. It was Tristan. He wore a light blue pressed shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a blue tie, a black waistcoat, black pants, and black wingtip Oxfords.

Tristan: “I have a feeling something is afoot.”

Tristan stepped closer, his gaze darting between a somber Deimos and a visibly distressed Celeste. He adjusted his cufflinks, his sharp eyes taking in her somber expression.

Tristan: “Something is definitely afoot…”

He repeated, his voice dropping into that calm, measured tone that usually preceded a lecture. Deimos let out a sharp, cynical laugh.

Deimos: “Oh, you could say that. The usual culprit. Ivy.”

Tristan’s posture stiffened, his shoulders squaring as he looked at Celeste.

Tristan: “Ivy? What did she do this time?”

Celeste took a shaky breath, twisting her fingers in her lap.

Celeste: “She... she showed me a video of Fabien at Danny Donger’s. She made it look like he was—like he was doing something he shouldn't be. And I...”

She froze, unable to finish.

Deimos finished the thought for her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

Deimos: “She showed Celeste some 'evidence' of Fabien doing a sexy dance for Lena at Danny Donger’s. Celeste cracked, pushed him away, and now they're broken up.”

Tristan looked at Celeste, his expression hardening.

Tristan: “Celeste, do you not remember what she did to Deimos and me? She did the same thing, and look at what happened.”

Celeste hung her head, the weight of the realization sinking in even deeper now that Tristan was confirming what Deimos had just told her.

Celeste: “I know. I see it now. I just... I let her get in my head. I let her win.”

Tristan: “What was this sexy dance?”

Celeste rubbed the back of her head.

Celeste: “Dancing to these R&B songs, she tickles his hand, and he sang That Girl or some crap.”

Tristan nodded.

Tristan: “This was at Danny Donger’s, correct?”

Celeste nodded in confirmation. Tristan raked his fingers through his white hair.

Tristan: “Celeste, this is what he does with most of his patrons. It’s a restaurant built on sex appeal. Granted, he doesn’t get as close as Jaxon does with his clients, but still.”

He folded his arms over his chest.

Tristan: “Anyway, this reminded you of what Jaxon did to you with Chelsea at Seashell Cove.”

Celeste looked away. Tristan’s expression softened somewhat.

Tristan: “Celeste, I understand your plight, truly.”

He drew a long breath.

Tristan: “But this doesn’t correlate. Jaxon’s attention was always on Chelsea, and he wasn’t doing this for anything. Fabien did this for Lena for tips. Servers are not paid much, so they rely mostly on tips.”

He explained coolly.

Tristan: “And you end a beautiful relationship because of Ivy? Because you’re afraid of getting hurt again? Celeste, you’re cutting off your nose despite your face.”

He said with disappointment in his tone.

Tristan: “Jaxon is not Fabien; they are two different men. Jaxon always chased that high, and always looked for someone or something to fill in the void that can never be filled. Fabien loves you dearly.”

He said earnestly.

Tristan: “Fabien cannot control who crushes on him, Celeste. I’m certain many patrons at Danny Donger’s crush on him, but it’s you he comes home to… It’s you he fights for. It’s always been you.”

He said gently.

Celeste: “She went to our house and made him BLTs.”

She blurted. Tristan inhaled sharply.

Tristan: “What about it? What does that have to do with anything? Monica sends food to Papa; does this mean they’re having an affair?”

He challenged her. Celeste hung her head.

Celeste: “I’m dumb.”

Tristan: “You aren’t dumb, Celeste. You’re simply wounded, and that makes you vulnerable to people like Ivy who feed on discord. But you must learn to distinguish between your past and your present. If you truly believe he loves you—and I have seen the way he looks at you—then stop pushing him away and go fight for what is yours.”

He said resolutely.

Tristan: “Besides, Jaxon and Jordi are now dating or something to that effect.”

He stated. Celeste and Deimos raised their heads to lock their gazes on Tristan.

Celeste: “Then maybe that’s why she’s flocking to Fabien.”

Tristan paused and shook his head.

Tristan: “No, Jordi told me and told me he doesn’t want to tell Lena just yet.”

Deimos laughed bitterly.

Deimos: “Oh, those fucking Vaquero siblings!”

Celeste: “What should I do? Should I go to Danny Donger’s tomorrow and sing some karaoke on stage?”

She asked. Tristan and Deimos gaped at her.

Tristan: “Why on Reona would you do that, Celeste?”

Celeste: “Oh, Trevor and I watch this show called ‘Rocket Scientist Nerds.’ One of the nerds breaks up with his girlfriend because she has more Batman cards than he does. To make it up to her, he sings a love song on stage in the comic shop, and they get back together.”

Tristan laughed awkwardly.

Tristan: “And that show is the best example to follow?”

He asked wryly as he stroked his ponytail.

Deimos: “Celeste, the characters on that show are just Blair Donati—all of them. Don’t do that shit. Seriously.”

He said sternly.

Tristan: “Be sincere. Bare your soul to him. Apologize and show him you cherish him. Be your authentic self, and he will welcome that.”

He said with a gentle smile.

Celeste rose and nodded.

Celeste: “Thanks, guys! Thanks for everything.”

She stated, determined to get to Fabien. She gathered her courage and leaped into the night air.

Tristan and Deimos watched her go. Suddenly, Trevor teleported before them.

Trevor: “Tristan, Percy wants to see you now.”

He drawled.

Deimos: “I’m coming, too.”

He stepped forward. Trevor put his hand up.

Trevor: “Sorry, man. He wants to see Tristan only.”

Deimos growled at him.

Deimos: “Like HELL he will! I am coming!”

He snapped. Tristan placed his soft hand on Deimos’ shoulder. Deimos relaxed to his gentle touch and gazed up at Tristan.

Tristan: “I’ll be fine, Deimos.”

He reassured him and stepped forward. Trevor grabbed him, and they teleported away.

Deimos: “Like fuck, I will heed that slimy snake!”

He lept into the night air and flew in the direction toward Percy’s mansion.

~

Fabien lay staring at the ceiling, the darkness of his bedroom reflecting the hollow ache in his chest. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, but the warmth did nothing to soothe the cold realization that Celeste was gone. Every shadow in the room felt like a reminder of her absence, a ghost of the laughter and light that had filled the space only hours before.

A sudden, sharp scrape against the window frame made him bolt upright. He froze, his heart hammering against his ribs as a silhouette struggled with the latch. The window groaned open, and a figure tumbled onto the floor in a heap of limbs and frantic energy. It was Celeste.

Celeste: “Fabien!”

She scrambled to her feet, her voice cracking as she lunged toward the edge of the bed. Fabien recoiled slightly, his expression guarded and etched with the fresh wounds of their earlier confrontation.

Celeste: “Don’t say anything, please, just—just listen. I’m an idiot. I’m a complete fucktard!”

The words spilled out of her in a breathless rush.

Celeste: “I let Ivy win. I let that bitch get in my head and ruin what we have because I was too scared to trust what was right in front of me. I saw that video, and I let my past with Jax win ‘cause it was easier than believing I could actually be this happy without it all blowing up!”

She reached out, her hands trembling as she hovered them near his, not quite daring to touch him yet.

Celeste: “I don’t want to live without you, Fabien. I don’t wanna breathe if you ain’t there. You’re the best man I’ve ever known, and I treated you like a criminal for the crime of loving me. I’m so sorry. Please, please don’t let me be this stupid and lose you!”

Fabien watched her, his initial rigidity slowly melting as he witnessed the raw, unshielded agony in her eyes. The anger that had sustained him in the dark began to evaporate, replaced by a profound swell of empathy. He saw the sincerity in every frantic gesture, the absolute regret in her broken voice. He let out a long, shuddering breath, the last of his defenses crumbling away.

Fabien: “Celeste…”

He murmured, his voice thick with his own unshed tears. He reached out and caught her shaking hands, pulling her toward him. Celeste collapsed into him, her weight a familiar and grounding presence. Fabien wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her onto the bed as they sank into an embrace that held all the desperation and relief of two people who had nearly lost everything, only to find it again in the dark.

He cradled her face, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. Celeste looked up, her breath hitching as their gazes locked, the silence in the room heavy with everything they had been through. Fabien leaned down, his forehead resting against hers for a fleeting, steadying moment before he tilted his head. He kissed her gently at first, a soft, testing pressure that deepened instantly as she surrendered into it, clutching the back of his shirt. It wasn't just a kiss; it was a desperate vow, a physical assurance that they were together again, pouring all the fear, the anger, and the overwhelming love of their reconciliation into the deep, lingering contact.

Celeste slipped off her leather mules before pulling his shirt over his head. Fabien undid her tank top and removed it, while she quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. With a soft chuckle, Fabien slid his jeans and briefs below his hips. He captured Celeste’s lips with his, reaching behind her to unhook her bra and slide the straps off her shoulders. Celeste then unbuckled her belt, shedding both her Daisy Dukes and her panties.

Fabien pulled the covers back, and they moved together onto the sheets, their skin finally meeting in a long, seamless embrace. He trailed his fingers down the curve of her spine, marveling at the way she seemed to fit perfectly against him, as if the simple proximity of their bodies had smoothed away the jagged pieces of their argument. Celeste let out a soft, contented sigh, burying her face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne.

Fabien: “I got you.”

He whispered against her temple, his voice a low, steady anchor in the quiet room. He began to kiss her again, each touch deliberate and worshipful, moving from her jawline to the hollow of her throat. It was a slow, rhythmic reconnection—a silent apology and a promise rolled into one. Celeste responded with equal fervor, her hands exploring the hard lines of his shoulders and back.

In one smooth movement, Fabien turned around, straddled her shoulders, and dropped his head between her legs. Celeste lifted her head and took his cock in her mouth as he ran his tongue up and down the seam of her vulva. Celeste murmured and opened her legs wider for him. She loved the taste of his hard cock in her mouth. It was a contrast to the soft kiss he placed on her clitoris. It was a gentle kiss followed by a series of licks. He spread her wider with his fingertips and licked deeper inside. Fabien’s cock was deep in Celeste’s mouth. Her eyes rolled back in her head as her licked and teased her throbbing clit.

As she sucked him, she ran her hands up and down the backs of his legs and grabbed his ass. Fabien groaned and pushed his hips in and out of her mouth. He took his time, teasing her clit and making her spread wider for him. He caressed her wet, open body with his fingertips, massaging her labia minora and teasing her vagina repeatedly.

He pushed two fingers in and licked her clitoris. Celeste moaned loudly as he fucked her mouth. Fabien did one final push as his cock swelled in her mouth and his balls twitched. With a low groan, he released his load in her mouth. Celeste squeezed her eyes shut as his hot cum filled her mouth. She swallowed and savored the taste of the man she loves.

Fabien pulled out of her, laid her on her back, and lifted her leg. The crown of his penis teased her soaking wet pussy. Fabien’s green eyes met her violet eyes as he gently pushed the tip inside. She moved her hips with his, rocking him deeper inside her. Celeste wrapped her arms and legs around him. Her chin rested on his shoulder, her mouth to his ear. He pushed her with hard, strong thrusts.

Celeste: “Oh, Fabien…!”

She moaned in his ear as she raked her fingers through his silver-white hair. Fabien raised his head to meet her gaze.

Fabien: “Celeste…”

He whispered. Her feminine core clenched his cock. Fabien bared his teeth as he increased the speed of his thrusts.

Celeste: “Oh, Fab!”

She whimpered in his ear and yelped when she found her release.

Fabien continued ramming her until he came with a loud groan. Celeste’s eyes rolled back into her head when she felt his hot cum flow into her body. He slowly pulled out and rested his forehead on her shoulder.

Fabien: “I love you, Celeste.”

He murmured.

Celeste: “I love you, too, Fabien.”

The two locked their lips in a deep, passionate kiss, a silent promise that whatever shadows had tried to pull them apart had finally been swept away by the truth of their love.

As the silence of the night settled back over the room, they drifted into a heavy, restorative slumber, their limbs entangled and hearts beating in a synchronized rhythm. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the turmoil of the day finally vanished, replaced by a profound and lasting peace.