Edward Harris thought he would never see Eric Wright again in this lifetime.

Until the hotel mixed up the room cards, and upon opening the door, he found him lying alone on the bed with an eye mask on, calling out someone else’s name, “Back so soon…”

On impulse, he yanked off Eric Wright’s eye mask, but the moment their eyes met, he regretted it.

After six years apart, their reunion should have been more dignified.

·

—“At least on the overpass at 42nd Street, when we had nothing, we once owned the suspended sun, even if it was only for 15 minutes and 20 seconds.”

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Ambitious top x sickly beauty bottom

Reader’s Guide:

1. Nonlinear narrative; chapter titles will indicate (N for present, P for past). If you dislike this style, proceed with caution.

2. The bottom (Eric Wright) has bipolar disorder, and there are depictions of episodes. Proceed with caution.

3. Both angst and sweetness; more angst in the beginning, but the sweet moments are truly sweet. The perspective is marked [unknown] because the POV is fairly balanced—more from the top at first, more from the bottom later.

4. To preempt reader questions: at every stage, the top and bottom have no other partners—physically and emotionally exclusive.

5. Thank you for your clicks and comments; I read every single one carefully~ Thank you (heart)

Chapter 1 N. Unexpected Reunion

“Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”

The man’s voice on the phone was young and sincere.

“Ms. Jones is a huge fan of your work—she’s followed you since your early days. In fact, this isn’t much different from having your work displayed in a gallery. As collectors, we’ll treasure it just as much. Besides the generous payment, her engagement party will have a lot of exposure—we’ve invited many media outlets. This could be a great opportunity for you…”

Eric Wright felt dizzy, the heaviness making him seem especially patient. He poured the pills into his palm, washed them down with cold water, and tilted his head back to swallow.

When the other party seemed to finish, Eric Wright gently declined, “I’m sorry, I’m not in a good state lately… I think you’ll be able to find someone more suitable.”

The call ended, and the dim room suddenly fell silent—so silent it made Eric Wright’s heart race.

The metallic taste on his tongue hadn’t faded, and the side effects were already kicking in. Sitting on the bed, his hand trembled slightly beyond his control. Eric Wright was long used to this and didn’t think much of it. He simply gazed out the window, staring at the gloomy gray-white sky.

[Seattle is so boring. The weather’s always like this, and still no snow.]

He recalled what Henry Cooper had said just before leaving.

He couldn’t say anything then, and he couldn’t now either. He couldn’t respond—impolite, but Henry Cooper never said a word about it. Eric Wright was always grateful for his tolerance.

When the depression hit, he became dull. His thoughts froze, muddled and unclear, his mood plummeting to rock bottom—like a worm with its spine crushed, unable to move, or a lifeless scrap of paper.

In his mind, a voice both like and unlike his own kept repeating every flaw, every seemingly unforgivable mistake. The ground beneath his feet crumbled inch by inch, and it felt like soon, he’d be forced to flee to the window, fall from the sill, and plunge into this cold world.

Eric Wright slowly turned his head and reached for the eye mask on the nightstand.

He noticed the sunglasses Henry Cooper had left beside the eye mask.

Henry Cooper had snow blindness, so in weather like this, he always wore sunglasses just in case. Eric Wright knew he should get up and return the glasses—after all, it wasn’t a small matter; it concerned the other’s driving safety.

But he simply couldn’t move, his body controlled by boundless despair.

Avoidance was his default response.

After a long while, Eric Wright called Henry Cooper, put the phone on speaker, then put on the eye mask and lay down with a furrowed brow.

It wasn’t as cold here as in New York, yet he felt frozen through. The hotel comforter pressed down like a thick layer of ice, making it hard to breathe.

The beeps came one after another, cold and unfeeling. Eric Wright kept his eyes closed as the medication took effect, the sense of suppression growing heavier and heavier. His eardrums ached, and he couldn’t hear anything clearly.