Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL] Chapter 21: Ansel don’t do this

Serena scoffed, like she had heard the most absurd thing.

"Disobedient? You think I’m so doll? Or a puppet? I’m human, Ansel. I think, I feel, I rage. I’m not a dog it’s not possible to obey you 100% and why should I? Do you think you’re God? Why should I give you my 100% when you’re only giving 10%, you give less but ask for 100%"

Ansel stared at her for a silent beat, the air stretching thin.

Then he stepped closer.

One step.

Then another.

It wasn’t fast or threatening.

But Serena’s breath hitched anyway.

"You misunderstand sothing fundantal," Ansel said, his voice low and infuriatingly calm. "You were never asked to give 100%. I don’t care about your devotion. I don’t care about your feelings. I don’t certainly care about your effort."

He stopped right in front of her and she swallowed.

"I asked.." he continued, "for obedience."

He tilted his head slightly.

"And even that, you failed to give."

Serena clenched her jaw, nails digging into her arms. "Because you treat people like they’re disposable. Like they don’t matter."

"Because they don’t.." he replied without hesitation.

Her expression cracked with hurt, disbelief, frustration, all bleeding together. "So that’s it? After everything we—"

"Do not romanticize what happened between us.." Ansel cut in sharply. "We slept together. You enjoyed the lifestyle. I tolerated your presence. That is the full story."

Serena’s breath trembled, fury returning fast. "You really think you can talk to like that and walk away?"

Ansel raised an eyebrow.

"I already have."

She opened her mouth, but he lifted a hand, not touching her, just stopping her cold.

"You staying here... lingering... arguing... clinging..." His eyes narrowed. "It tells you truly believed you were special."

Serena stiffened.

"And now you’ve convinced yourself there’s soone else."

He turned his back on her, walking toward his desk.

"There isn’t."

Serena blinked. "There isn’t? That’s a lie,. whose heart are you going to break next."

Ansel didn’t answer imdiately. He set the phone back on the desk, glancing once at the paused image of Lance leaning over his laptop in soft clothes, exhaustion written all over his face.

His fingers tapped the desk once.

Then twice.

When he finally looked at Serena again, his eyes were colder.

"You don’t get to ask these questions."

Serena stared at him, searching for even a hint of softness, but there was nothing there. Nothing to hold onto. Nothing she could twist into hope.

"Ansel.." she whispered, her bravado slipping. "Don’t do this."

"I’m not doing anything. You are.." he replied. "You chose to disobey . You chose to stay after being dismissed. You chose to make this unpleasant."

His voice dropped.

"So now you should choose to leave."

Serena’s lips trembled from anger, humiliation, pride and then she finally snapped.

"You’re impossible.." she spat. "Utterly impossible. No wonder no one stays with you."

Ansel’s jaw twitched with annoyance.

He leaned back against the desk, arms crossing.

"That’s because I don’t want them to."

Serena’s breath left her in a shaky exhale. She looked at him one more ti, really looked, and finally seed to understand the thing she’d refused to believe all this ti:

There was nothing to win here.

No angle to play.

No affection to revive.

He would never choose her.

He had never chosen her.

She wiped the corner of her eye quickly, refusing to let the tear fall, grabbed her purse, and stord toward the door.

Her heels clicked sharply against the marble as she left, each step filled with a mixture of rage and wounded ego.

She slamd the door behind her.

The echo faded but Ansel didn’t move.

He waited until silence settled completely before picking up his phone again.

He tapped the screen and the feed resud.

Lance was leaning against the bathroom doorfra now, one hand pressed to the small of his back, looking exhausted.

Ansel’s irritation from Serena lted away instantly, like it had never existed.

His eyes softened with sothing dark, possessive.

He murmured "That’s more like it."

Then he zood in and kept watching.

He could call Lance tomorrow, but doing it frequently could make Lance clingy and he wasn’t ready to deal with feelings.

It was a hassle.

For now Lance was well behaved. He placed the phone down, his mind tracing back to what Serena said.

He couldn’t quite place a hand on why he was so fixated on obedience.

Why did he feel the need to always be in control?

He didn’t need a therapist to tell him that he was psycho but that didn’t really matter to him.

He had Lance to play with for three months, if he was satisfied he would keep him for a few more months until he was tired.

Ansel relaxed on the chair, so far so good. He thought to himself but there was one person that looked like he was going to cause trouble.

Henry Backster. Lance’s so-called best friend.

He tsked, that filthy bastard better not get in his way, friendship wise? He was the worst.

He was obviously interested in Lance but he disguised it with friendship.

Ansel had seen n like him before, hovering, orbiting, waiting for the mont the object of their affection got hurt so they could swoop in as the "safe option."

Pathetic.

He zood in again as Lance finally stepped into the bedroom, he watched him flopped into the bed, lying on his stomach because his back hurt.

Right now there was nothing really special about Lance.

And yet that idiot Henry wanted him.

Ansel scoffed to himself.

Of course Henry wanted him.

Anyone with eyes would.

But wanting wasn’t the problem.

Interfering was....

That was where the line was drawn.

Ansel’s eyes narrowed, jaw tensing as he leaned back in his chair.

Troubleso best friends were the easiest to get rid of.

They were emotional creatures. Predictable. And weak in the places that mattered.

And Lance... Lance was loyal to a fault.

A single nudge in the right place and friendships crumbled.

Ansel tapped the edge of his phone again, thoughtfully.

Henry had better stay in Canada for a long, long ti.

For his own sake.