My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 167: Guilt (BC)

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"I don’t even deserve be called your boyfriend at this point." He sighed, "this is so messed up."

I gazed down at the delicate porcelain cup resting in my hands, watching the wispy steam curl up as if it could carry my thoughts away. My fingers shook a bit, and I hated that he picked up on it—hated how he always seemed to see right through me, even when I fought to keep it all together.

"Ethan," I murmured, my voice more fragile than I meant for it to be, "it’s not—"

"It is," he interrupted softly, shaking his head as he leaned in closer, elbows resting on his knees. His shoulders drooped, like he had been carrying something unbearably heavy all night. "It’s my fault! I shouldn’t have let you go alone. I knew that party was a bad idea, yet still, I let you walk into it without me."

"That’s not fair," I replied, swallowing hard as I finally met his gaze. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his usually neat hair was a mess, as if he’d spent the night running his hands through it, trying to undo something that couldn’t be fixed. "You didn’t make them do this. You didn’t tell them to hurt me."

"But I wasn’t there," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I was supposed to be there. I’m your boyfriend, Noah. That’s literally my job."

The word boyfriend hit me hard, stirring up guilt I desperately wanted to keep buried. I wrapped both hands around my cup, feeling its warmth grounding me.

"You can’t be everywhere all the time," I whispered. "And I don’t want to live my life feeling like I need protection every second like I’m some girl or something."

He really looked at me then, as if trying to memorize every detail to ensure I was still there. "I just keep thinking about what could’ve happened if we’d been a few minutes later," he said, his voice hoarse. "It makes me so fucking sick."

I nodded slowly because, honestly, I’d been thinking the same thing. Those images kept replaying in my mind, creeping in when I least expected them, but I wasn’t ready to say that out loud. Not yet.

"I’m here in one piece," I replied instead, forcing a small, shaky smile. "That counts for something, right?"

Ethan exhaled, reaching out cautiously, like he wasn’t sure I’d let him, then resting his warm hand over mine. His touch felt familiar and steady, almost making me cry again. "You shouldn’t have to be strong about this," he said gently. "You don’t have to pretend with me."

And that was the issue. I didn’t want to pretend; I just didn’t know how to share the truth without everything shattering.

"I’m not pretending," I said, even though a part of me knew that wasn’t completely true. "I’m just... trying to breathe. One step at a time."

He nodded, squeezing my hand softly. "Okay. One step at a time."

We sat in silence for a moment, the soft clink of porcelain and the quiet ticking of an unseen clock filling the space between us. I could feel his worry and love wrapping around me like a shield, making my chest ache in ways I didn’t fully understand yet.

Whatever was coming next, I knew one thing for sure: nothing was simple anymore. A lot had changed. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t have set foot in that stupid party just to prove something to myself.

I kept my fingers wrapped around the warm teacup, staring into the amber surface as if it might somehow reveal answers if I looked hard enough. The porcelain felt fragile in my hands, too delicate—like it could shatter if I squeezed too tightly, which seemed fitting given how close I was to breaking myself.

"Ethan..." I started, then paused, swallowing past the tightness in my throat. My voice sounded steadier than I felt, but it took effort to keep it that way. "Can I ask you something?"

He looked up immediately, his focus snapping back to me as if nothing else mattered. "Anything."

I nodded once, mostly for my own sake, then forced the words out before I lost my nerve. "Why weren’t you there?"

The question hung heavy between us, unavoidable. I didn’t look at him at first, my gaze firmly on the cup as I turned it slowly in my hands, watching the liquid inside ripple.

"They used you to lure me out, you know." I continued quietly, my chest tightening as the memory replayed itself again. "They texted me from an unknown number, pretending to be you. They said your phone died and you were borrowing someone else’s. You wanted me to come outside to talk." I let out a shaky breath. "And me being stupid as shit...believed it."

I laughed weakly, though it wasn’t funny at all. "I just... I didn’t even question it. I walked out there like an idiot, Ethan. Like everything was fine and normal."

His chair scraped softly against the floor as he shifted, and when I finally looked up, he was tight with anger and something resembling pain.

"Noah," he said firmly, leaning forward. "You are not stupid or an idiot. Don’t ever say that."

I shook my head, blinking hard. "I am, though. I should’ve known better. Things like this don’t happen to smart people, right? If I’d just paused for a moment and thought—"

Things like this don’t happen to smart people twice, right?

"No," he interjected, sharper now, his voice rising just enough to make me stop. "That’s not true. That’s victim blaming, and I won’t allow you to do that to yourself." His jaw tightened, his blue eyes intense. "They manipulated you. That’s on them, not you."

I looked away again, my grip on the cup tightening despite myself. "I’m not blaming you," I said quickly, needing him to understand that part at least. "I swear I’m not. I just..." I hesitated, then lifted my gaze to his again. "I need to know where you were."

He went still.

"I called you," I continued softly. "I texted you. You didn’t answer, and you didn’t show up when you said you would. I kept thinking maybe you were busy or something happened, but..." My voice wavered despite my efforts to keep it calm. "I need to hear it from you."

Ethan dragged a hand through his messy hair and exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath for too long. "My phone died," he finally admitted, frustration creeping into his tone. "Completely. I didn’t even realize how low it was until it turned off, and by the time I got a charger and powered it on again, I’d missed everything."

He met my gaze then, really met it, guilt flooding his features. "The second I saw your missed calls, I ran. I didn’t even think twice. I just knew something was wrong."

I studied his face, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands shook slightly as they rested on his knees. Part of me wanted to lean into him again, to let him reassure me that everything would be okay and to believe it without question.

But another part of me, the one that had learned the hard way not to ignore the ache in my chest, needed honesty more than comfort.

The guilt in his eyes made my chest ache differently because I knew he meant it. None of this was as simple as blame or fault.

"I know," I whispered, curling my fingers slightly around his. "I just...needed to understand."

The room fell silent again, filled only by the faint clink of porcelain and the weight of everything we still hadn’t said.

"But, there’s more," he continued.