Chapter 29
Ben can admit he’s made mistakes.
Not that he’ll ever apologize for them, not really. But sure, if he had to reflect, if he had to sit down and really think about his life—there were some things he could’ve done differently. Staying in the closet for so long, letting fear dictate his every move, pushing Charlie away whenever he tried to get close. His internalized homophobia was... something. Something he still hadn’t completely unraveled. It’s not his fault though, not really. Society made him this way. His parents made him this way.
And yeah, maybe he was mean sometimes. Cruel, even. But sometimes, he had to be cruel.
Charlie never knew when to stop. Charlie never knew when to just let things be. He had to push, had to demand more, had to be so fucking clingy all the time. Like a puppy begging for scraps. Like a boy who didn’t understand how the world worked.
Ben remembers the fights, the arguments—if you could even call them that. A lot of the time, Charlie barely fought back. It was exhausting. He’d make the wrong meal, and Ben would get angry, and Charlie would just fix it. Charlie would listen too much or not enough, and either way, it was annoying. He was annoying. He was too soft, too easy to mold, too easy to break.
And then there was the marriage.
That stupid fucking marriage.
Ben hadn’t wanted it at first. Not really. But Charlie did, and Charlie was nothing if not persistent. And fine, maybe a part of him thought—if he went through with it, if they got married, if they played house like Charlie always dreamed about—then maybe the nagging feeling inside him would finally settle. Maybe it would fix things.
It didn’t.
Instead, it made everything worse.
He had to come out. There was no hiding it anymore, no pretending he was just a really good friend. And his parents—God, his parents—did not take it well. They didn’t disown him, didn’t cut him off completely, but the disappointment in their eyes was something he’ll never forget.
So no, he didn’t want to hold hands in public. He didn’t want to act like the perfect gay couple, smiling and kissing and playing happy family. He didn’t want to be seen as that.
Charlie never understood that.
Charlie wanted too much.
Ben had no choice but to be cruel.
And that’s why he cheated. Yeah, infidelity and all that, blah, blah, blah. But the truth? The real, underlying reason?
Ben and Charlie’s sex life was bland, and Ben—God forbid—could never, ever bottom. Sorry, that was just too… gay.
Which was ironic, really, considering they were two men married to each other. But for Ben, marriage was just another performance, another role to play. He liked the aesthetics of it—the husband, the nice house, the quiet domesticity that looked good on paper. But reality? Reality was different. Reality meant commitment. Meant stability. Meant things like love and fatherhood and the kind of vulnerability Ben could never stomach.
So yeah, he cheated. Because Charlie—kind, devoted, loyal Charlie—was never enough. Because the idea of real intimacy terrified him. Because being with one person, fully and truly, was something Ben couldn’t handle.
He cheated, kept cheating, started an entirely separate life behind Charlie’s back. And eventually—bam—he was having a kid.
Ben. A father.
Now that was the real joke.
But nope, no punchline here. No grand revelation. He knocked someone up, Charlie eventually found out, and then—well, then Remy was born. And suddenly, the pretend house Ben had been playing in wasn’t pretend anymore. It was real. The crying, the sleepless nights, the responsibility. A husband and a kid?
Nope. Ben wasn’t cut out for that.
So he left. Left Charlie to clean up his mess. Left Charlie to raise the son he never wanted.
Because Ben has always been good at running away.
Ben is good at being cruel. He always has been. Manipulation is a craft, one he’s honed since he was a teenager, one that’s gotten him exactly what he’s wanted, time and time again. He’s learned how to make people feel small, how to twist words, how to plant seeds of doubt so deep they bloom into a garden of regret and obedience.
And for years, Charlie was his most prized creation.
Until he wasn’t.
Until Charlie ran.
Ben hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected his docile little husband, the one who flinched at raised voices and apologized before speaking, to up and leave. But Ben had miscalculated. He’d underestimated the fire inside Charlie, the one that flickered and wavered but never truly went out, and when he realized he’d lost control—lost the one thing that was supposed to be his—he had been furious.
Court had been a fucking joke. A waste of time. He tried to take Charlie down, tried to paint him as unstable, incapable, unfit to be a father. But he’d lost. The judge had seen through him, seen through his charm and his money, had sided with Charlie.
That should have been the end of it.
But Ben isn’t the type to accept loss.
Years have passed, and in that time, he’s built himself back up. He’s made more money, climbed the ladder, and now, now he’s positioned himself exactly where he needs to be. A few bribes, a few whispered words in the right ears, and suddenly, he has a job as the principal of the very preschool his son attends.
It’s all coming together.
Charlie is his. Remy is his.
They always have been.
And Charlie? Sweet, stupid Charlie? He’ll see that soon enough.
Because Ben has learned from his mistakes. He knows where he went wrong before, knows how he let Charlie slip through his fingers. And he won’t make that mistake again.
No divorce papers will ever convince him that he’s lost Charlie for good.
Charlie belongs to him.
And now?
He’s going to make sure Charlie never runs again.
Ben watches. Observes. Calculates.
He’s not stupid.
He’s seen how Mr. Nelson—Nick—gets in his way. How he lingers too close to Charlie, how he shields him, how he softens at the kid. How Remy looks at him with trust, with something close to admiration. He’s seen how Charlie panicked when they ran into each other, how Nick was there, steadying him, supporting him, keeping him upright when Ben could have watched him crumble.
That should be him. That should have been his role.
But Charlie took that away from him.
And maybe Ben let it happen. Maybe he let himself see fatherhood as something terrifying, something he wasn’t ready for. Maybe he pulled back too much, let Charlie take the reins, let Charlie’s bond with Remy grow into something Ben was no longer a part of.
But it’s his son. His blood. His name.
And Charlie—pathetic, fragile little Charlie—had the audacity to try and erase him from Remy’s life. To pretend like Ben didn’t exist. And Nick? Nick’s just another piece of the puzzle, another obstacle standing between him and what’s his.
That needs to change.
So he shifts tactics. If taking Remy outright won’t work, if courts and fights and custody battles lead to dead ends, then he’ll be smarter. More patient.
Charlie is weak. He always has been.
And weak men are easy to manipulate.
Ben smirks as his back hits the cold tiles, the echo of the impact ringing in the empty hallway. He expected this. Anticipated it. Watched the way Nick’s patience had thinned day after day as he wormed his way into Remy’s head. Of course Nick was finally snapping. It was inevitable.
But what Ben didn’t expect was how satisfying it would be.
Nick Nelson, the golden boy, the perfect little teacher, the protector—pushed to violence? Over him? Over Charlie? Over a kid that was his by blood, not Nick’s? Oh, this was going to be fun.
Nick’s fists are curled at his sides, his body wound tight, fury radiating from him in waves. His face is inches from Ben’s, his breath heavy and sharp, and Ben doesn’t even have to fight the grin that pulls at his lips.
“What kind of stupid game are you playing at, Hope?” Nick growls, voice low and dripping with barely contained rage.
Ben tilts his head, feigning innocence. “You do realize you’re assaulting your boss, right?”
Nick lets out a humorless laugh, shoving him once more for good measure before stepping back, jaw tight. “You aren’t my boss for another two weeks, and even then, you won’t be my boss.” His voice is laced with venom. “Now answer the damn question.”
Ben exhales slowly, straightening his jacket, dusting off his sleeves as if Nick is nothing more than an inconvenience. “I’m connecting with kids,” he says, deliberately casual. “That’s kinda the point of my job.”
Nick’s eyes darken, his hands twitching like he wants to throw another punch, but he doesn’t. Interesting. Maybe he’s more controlled than Ben thought.
“Stay the hell away from Remy,” Nick hisses, voice like steel. “Stay the hell away from Charlie.”
Ben laughs, an easy, practiced thing. “I think that’s up to Remy, don’t you? I mean, you should’ve seen his little face today, Nick. He’s warming up to me.” He leans in, lowering his voice to a whisper, just to watch Nick’s jaw clench. “Maybe because I’m his actual father.”
That does it. Nick lunges, shoving him again, harder this time, and Ben stumbles before righting himself.
For the first time in years, he feels alive.
Nick steps back, shaking his head like he’s trying to reel himself in, trying to control the anger that’s so obviously clawing at his throat. “You don’t give a shit about Remy,” he spits. “You never have. This is about Charlie, isn’t it? You couldn’t control him before, and now you’re trying to get back into his head.”
Ben hums, tilting his head in mock thought. “Oh, Nicholas. You give me too much credit.”
Nick’s chest heaves. “I swear to God, if you don’t stay away"
Ben chuckles, stepping away, straightening his tie, already victorious. “you'll what? Hurt me?"
Ben watches Nick stiffen at his words, and oh, how he enjoys it. The tightening of Nick’s jaw, the way his shoulders go rigid, the small flicker of doubt in his eyes. Just a flicker, barely there—but enough.
Good.
Nick Nelson thinks he’s something special. Thinks he’s in control. Thinks he can waltz into Charlie’s life, into Remy’s life, like he belongs there. Like he has any right.
Pathetic.
Ben steps closer, just enough to make his presence known, just enough to remind Nick exactly what kind of power he holds here. The power Nick doesn’t have.
“You do realize I can have you lose your job, right?” Ben says, tilting his head slightly, watching the way Nick’s fingers twitch at his sides. He wants to hit him. Oh, Ben can see it. He can feel it in the air between them, thick with tension and barely restrained fury. “And if you lose your job, there’s no more looking out for Remy. Is that what you want?”
Silence.
Ben hums, shaking his head as if in disappointment. “No. Didn’t think so.”
Nick still doesn’t say anything, still just stands there, breathing heavy through his nose, his hands clenching into fists before slowly, carefully, relaxing.
Ben smirks. There it is. The restraint. The control. The weakness.
“So,” he continues, voice smooth, calculated, “you’ll let me talk to Remy. You’ll let me do my job of connecting with kids. And whatever happens between me and Charlie? That’s our business, not yours.”
Nick exhales sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring, but Ben isn’t finished. No, he’s just getting started.
“And might I remind you, Nick,” Ben leans in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to be a whisper, just enough to feel like a blade pressing into Nick’s ribs, “Charlie is your student’s parent. Might look bad if that happens to slip as one of the reasons you got fired.” He pauses, lets that thought settle, and then he twists the knife. “Especially if I add in that you assaulted your boyfriend’s ex.”
That’s what does it.
Nick’s hands clench again, his entire body going stiff, and Ben almost—almost—dares him to do something. Go on, Nick. Hit me. Give me exactly what I need to ruin you.
But Nick doesn’t.
Instead, he just stares, jaw locked so tight Ben can hear the faintest creak of teeth grinding together.
Ben chuckles, shaking his head, stepping back like he’s already won.
Because, well—he has.
"Good,” Ben says, with that same irritating smirk, the one that makes Nick’s skin crawl. “Glad that’s settled, yeah? No need to drag this out further. And maybe—just maybe—you keep this between us. No need to trouble Charlie with the details.”
Nick clenches his jaw. “What?”
Ben sighs, like he’s explaining something to a child. “Come on, Nick. We both know he’s a little… sensitive. Emotional. If he finds out about this, he’s just going to spiral, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone, would it? He’d feel guilty, think it’s all his fault, and we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”
Nick’s fists tighten at his sides. He knows exactly what Ben is doing—knows the manipulation, the twisted, calculated words, the way Ben frames himself as the reasonable one, the composed one, while subtly painting Charlie as fragile, as weak.
Nick exhales through his nose. “Fuck you.”
Ben barely reacts. Just shrugs, like it doesn’t matter, like Nick’s anger is amusing. “Oh, that’s cheating then?” He tilts his head, watching him with something between curiosity and amusement. “And here I thought you might actually be smart enough to make the right choice.”
Nick doesn’t take the bait. He doesn’t have to.
Ben stands, straightening his jacket. “Well, just be careful, yeah? That temper of yours—you wouldn’t want to become like me.” His smirk sharpens, his voice soft, taunting. “And we both know how much you hate me.”
With that, he walks away, as if the conversation meant nothing to him at all.