Leave Me Alone, Big Brothers! [BL]-Chapter 138: Fragile as Glass

That day, Nathan felt dizzy in class. Every time he blinked, the room seemed to tilt a few degrees to the left.

He hadn’t even finished a full glass of Roger’s "sweet" cocktail, but his head felt like it had been stuffed with lead and set on fire.

During break time, he slumped onto his desk, burying his face in his arms as the rest of the students filtered out. He didn’t have the energy to move, let alone eat.

He felt a presence beside him before he heard the footsteps. A cool, steady gaze had been fixed on the back of his neck all morning, and now the shadow of that gaze finally moved closer.

Zane.

"What happened?" Zane’s voice was low, concerned. "Are you sick?"

Nathan didn’t lift his head. He just shifted slightly, his voice muffled by his sleeves. "No... but I feel dizzy." 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"Why?"

Nathan took a cautious breath, looking around to make sure the room was truly empty. The last few students had disappeared into the hallway. "I tried alcohol last night," he whispered, finally sitting up enough to look at Zane. "I don’t think it was a good idea. My head is killing me."

Zane didn’t look shocked. He didn’t even judge. He simply leaned against the edge of Nathan’s desk, his expression unreadable. "Drink more water. You’ll feel better later."

Nathan stared at him. The words Lucas had spat yesterday echoed in his mind. He looked at Zane’s perfect, calm face.

"Have you ever drunk alcohol?" Nathan asked.

Zane nodded without hesitation. "Of course."

"Of course?" Nathan’s brow furrowed. "But you’re underage. Your father is the Commissioner."

Zane leaned in a little closer, his gray eyes locking onto Nathan’s. "Trust me, Nathan. Nobody is as innocent as you think. We’re seventeen."

Nathan pouted, resting his chin on his hand. At the orphanage, there was no alcohol. Vale and Gerry had never even suggested it. He had spent his life thinking people like Zane were "innocent" because they followed the rules and stayed quiet. But Zane seemed to have more experience in the "real" world than Nathan did, despite the luxury.

Was Zane a "bad boy"?

A strange sensation bloomed in Nathan’s chest, a mix of doubt and a nagging insecurity. He felt like he was walking on thin ice with Zane, never quite sure where the surface would crack.

"Zane..." Nathan called out. He didn’t move his head from the table. His laptop remained closed.

Zane lowered himself, crouching so that his face was level with Nathan’s. The sudden proximity made Nathan’s heart skip a beat even through the dizziness. A faint flush crept up Nathan’s neck.

"Do you really love me?" Nathan asked abruptly.

Zane froze. The question was a physical blow; he hadn’t expected it. He stared at Nathan for a long time, his gaze intense and unblinking.

"Yes," he said, his voice a steady anchor. "I do."

"Do you really want to be... my lover?" Nathan pressed, his voice trembling slightly. "I never asked you properly. I just assumed we were together after you said you loved me. I don’t know if those are just... normal words."

Zane’s brow pinched together in a deep frown. "Normal words? I really love you, Nathan. I meant it. It’s not something you just say to anyone."

Nathan took a deep, shaky breath. Zane reached out, his cool palm pressing against Nathan’s forehead. His skin felt hot, a lingering fever from the night before.

"Are you still drunk?" Zane asked quietly.

Nathan shook his head, though the movement made his brain slosh. "No... I’m just afraid. I’m afraid I might be assuming the wrong things about us."

Zane straightened up, standing tall again, but he didn’t move away. "Have I made a mistake? Did I do something to make you confused about how I feel?"

"No, just..." Nathan trailed off. He wanted to say that he felt like he didn’t know the real Zane. He wanted to say he was afraid Zane’s love was as fragile as a glass ornament. But he was too scared of the answer.

Zane was about to speak when the door swung open. Eli bounded in, radiating his usual chaotic energy.

"Nathan! You aren’t at the cafeteria? I was waiting for you!" Eli stopped, looking between Nathan’s slumped form and Zane’s stiff posture. "Hi, Zane. I’ll bring you food, too."

He rushed to Nathan’s side, looking concerned. "Nathan? Are you sick?"

"No," Nathan groaned. "Just dizzy."

"You must be starving! I’ll go get you something right now!" Before Nathan could protest, Eli had already vanished, racing back out the door.

Zane reached out, hesitantly taking Nathan’s hand. He rubbed his thumb over Nathan’s knuckles, an awkward gesture, but one filled with heavy, silent sincerity. "Please," Zane whispered. "Tell me anything you’re feeling. Don’t keep it inside."

Nathan stared at their joined hands. "Have you ever had a boyfriend before?"

The silence stretched. Zane’s hand stilled. Finally, he shook his head. "No. Not really."

The doubt in Nathan’s chest grew. It would have been easier if Zane had said yes. If Zane had a history, he would be easier to understand. But this "innocent" Zane who drank alcohol and claimed to love a "stray" Salazar was a puzzle Nathan couldn’t solve.

"Why are you being so weird today?" Zane asked. "What happened?"

Nathan shook his head again. "Nothing. I just don’t feel well."

"I’m sure there’s more to it than that."

Nathan was silent for a few moments, watching the sunlight play across the classroom floor. "I just realized... I don’t really know you, Zane. I don’t know who your friends are. I don’t know your life. I just know that you’re a ’good boy.’"

***

The scent of expensive tobacco filled Antonio’s private terrace. Albert, his bodyguard, stood at a respectful distance, his expression unreadable as he delivered the message.

"Alexander requires your apology, Sir," Albert said, his voice level. "He says that if you want him back in the Salazar business, you must acknowledge what happened with Huan."

Antonio let out a dry, raspy laugh that turned into a wheeze. "That brat... he’s really feeling the wind in his sails. Demanding an apology from me?"

"He has every reason to be angry right now," Alfred noted quietly.

Antonio took a slow drag of his cigar, the amber tip glowing in the twilight. "I suppose he does. I think I need to see him."

Antonio was a man forged from iron and old-world cruelty, a man who viewed compromise as a death sentence. But because Alexander was his grandson—the only one with enough steel in his spine to lead the empire—he was willing to soften his heart.

Later that night, Antonio went to the mansion. The atmosphere inside the house turned brittle instantly. It was rare for the patriarch to arrive without warning, and the staff moved with frantic, silent efficiency to stay out of his path.

Natasha and Dante were nowhere to be seen. Antonio knew they preferred the sterile comfort of their private residence over the heavy, ghost-filled air of the main mansion. They avoided the weight of the Salazar name whenever possible.

Antonio walked straight to Alexander’s study. He sat behind the massive desk, occupying the space like a king on a temporary throne. He waited for nearly twenty minutes before the door opened.

Alexander walked in, his face a mask of cold indifference. He didn’t offer a greeting. He simply sat on the sofa opposite the desk and crossed his legs.

"I hope I get what I asked for, right here and now," Alexander said, his voice like ice.

Antonio leaned back, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Be grateful that I haven’t told anyone how you cried like a helpless child, Alexander."

Alexander’s eyes flashed with sudden, sharp fury. "You think it’s funny?"

Antonio chuckled, a dark, rattling sound. "Well, yes. It was profoundly entertaining. I really should have recorded you. It would have been the highlight of the next family gathering."

Alexander clenched his jaw, his lips thinning into a hard line. He had abandoned his pride that night, let the walls crumble because the thought of losing Huan was a death he couldn’t face. And now the old man was using that vulnerability to mock him.

"You really are the worst grandfather in the world," Alexander spat.

"Perhaps," Antonio replied, his amusement fading into a professional chill. "But at least I gave your man back. Now, get back to your responsibilities. Do not test my patience again, Alexander, or I will remove Huan for real this time. Permanently."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and jagged. Alexander felt a surge of white-hot resentment, but he knew the old man wasn’t bluffing. Antonio Salazar didn’t make threats, he made arrangements.

Antonio stood up, leaning heavily on his silver-topped cane. "I am a very busy man. How is it that, at my age, I still have to spend my mornings thinking about business?"

Alexander let out a long, weary sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally dropping an inch. "Go somewhere else then. Go enjoy what little of your life is left."

Antonio let out one last dry chuckle. "Do your job, Alexander. I need to retire soon."

He walked out of the room without looking back, leaving Alexander alone in the silence of the study. The apology was never spoken.