Echoes of Us: The CEO and His Soulmates [BL]

Micah emerged from the bathroom wrapped in Callum's oversized hoodie, the fabric swallowing his small frame. The sweatpants Callum had given him weren't much better—the legs pooled at Micah's feet, dragging slightly as he shuffled forward. His damp curls clung to his forehead, his eyes downcast, and he looked impossibly fragile. 

Callum stood in the kitchen, watching him with a knot tightening in his chest. He tried no to think about how good his shower wash smelled on Micah and he refused to dwell on what had happened earlier, tried not to picture the way Micah had trembled in his arms or the haunted look in his eyes. The worst was over. For now, all he could do was focus on making sure Micah was okay. 

"Are you hungry?" Callum asked gently. 

Micah shook his head, his hands fiddling with the hem of the hoodie. "No," he said softly, his voice barely audible. 

Callum frowned. "You should eat something," he said, keeping his tone light. "Come on, I'll make you some grilled cheese." 

But instead of agreeing, Micah's face crumpled with distress. "I can't eat right now," he murmured, his voice trembling. "I need to call Damian." 

The mention of the name felt like a punch to Callum's gut. He tried to ignore the sharp twist of jealousy that followed. This wasn't about him. Tonight wasn't about his feelings or his past and the messy implications of reincarnation that came along with it. It was about Micah and, right now, he had a feeling the intern hadn't eaten all day. 

"Let's focus on making sure you're okay first," Callum said, careful to keep his voice steady. 

"No," Micah said, shaking his head frantically. "You don't understand. Damian's going to be worried, and… and he doesn't know where I am, and—" 

"Micah." Callum interrupted softly, stepping closer. "How about this: I'll make you a sandwich, you eat it, and I'll call him for you." 

Micah hesitated, his hands still fidgeting with the hoodie's sleeves. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Okay." 

Relieved, Callum nodded toward the kitchen. "Come on." 

Micah perched on one of the stools by the counter, his legs swinging slightly as he sat. He twiddled his thumbs, glancing around. His movements were restless and unsure. Without his glasses, he squinted faintly at everything, and Callum realized all over again just how vulnerable he looked. 

Callum kept himself busy, pulling out bread, butter, and cheese. He worked carefully, using the time to collect his own thoughts. His mind was still buzzing, fragments of the evening replaying in his head. Less than a few hours ago, his worry had been that Micah—Ashur—had a boyfriend. Now his prayer was that he never crossed paths with the man who'd hurt Micah again. He didn't trust himself to hold back. 

The grilled cheese sizzled in the pan, filling the kitchen with the comforting aroma of melted cheese and butter. Callum glanced up at Micah as he worked, catching the boy nervously twisting the fabric of the hoodie. His heart ached all over again. 

When the sandwich was ready, Callum plated it and placed it in front of Micah. "Here you go," he said gently. 

Micah picked it up and took a small bite of the edge with slow, mechanical movements. "It's… a good sandwich," he said quietly. 

Callum managed a small smile. "Thanks." 

Micah set the sandwich down after another small bite and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Callum, his hands shaking slightly. "His number's saved as 'My Love,' with two heart emojis," he said, his voice a little steadier. "I just… I don't want him to worry any more than he already is." 

Callum's chest tightened at the reminder that it didn't matter if he'd defied death to meet the man before him again, Micah—Ashur—had a love that wasn't him. He swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside. 

Callum took the phone with a nod and stepped into the living room which was only a few feet away from the kitchen. He made sure to remain within eyesight and earshot of Micah while giving himself just enough distance to make the call. 

The line rang twice before a sharp voice answered. "Micah, babe, where are you?" 

Callum cleared his throat. "This isn't Micah," he said evenly. 

There was a pause before the voice on the other end turned icy. "Who the hell are you, and why do you have my boyfriend's phone?" 

Callum stiffened at the hostility in Damian's tone but forced himself to stay calm. "This is Callum Pierce," he said. "Micah's boss." 

"What's going on?" Damian demanded. "Where is he?" 

"There was an incident," Callum began carefully. "He's safe now, but—" 

"Where. Is. He?" Damian interrupted, his voice sharp and commanding. 

Callum clenched his jaw and gave his address. Before he could say anything else, the call clicked off. Callum sighed, lowering the phone. 

He walked back to the kitchen, setting the phone on the counter in front of Micah. The boy looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes. 

"What did he say?" Micah asked softly. 

Callum hesitated. "Not much," he admitted. "But I think he's on his way." 

Micah nodded, letting his shoulders lift and fall in a lazy shrug. "It's Damian," he said simply. "Of course he's on his way." 

Silence settled between them, but it was heavier now, the tension palpable. 

Micah glanced down at his plate, his fingers brushing against the edges of the sandwich. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "For tonight, for doing all this. You must be exhausted." 

Callum let out a dry laugh. "I'm a CEO and game dev, Micah. Late nights are my religion." 

"Still…" Micah murmured, his voice trailing off. 

Callum shook his head, his gaze softening. "What will I do with you, Micah Liu?" he said quietly. 

He pulled the plate closer, using a bread knife to cut the sandwich into bite-sized pieces. Then he pushed the plate back toward Micah. "There's no rush," he said gently. "Take it one bite at a time, and… don't worry about a thing." 

Micah's green eyes filled with tears again, and he looked at Callum like he couldn't understand how someone like him could possibly exist. He glanced down at the sandwich, then back up at Callum. 

"You should eat too," Micah said softly. 

Callum smiled faintly. "I will later." 

"Join me?" Micah asked, his voice hesitant. 

Callum hesitated for a moment, then reached out and picked up one of the small pieces of grilled cheese. He popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly. 

Micah smiled—a small, shaky smile—and picked up a piece for himself. They ate in silence, trading pieces of the sandwich until the plate was empty. 

The buzzer rang, breaking the quiet. Callum stood, his chest tightening. 

Before he could even move to the door, his phone rang. He picked it up, a voice from the front desk informing him that one Damian Wells had arrived and was looking for him.

"Send him up," Callum said, his voice steady even though his heart felt like it was going to implode. 

He barely had time to return to the kitchen before a sharp knock echoed through the apartment. 

Callum opened the door and froze. 

The man standing on the other side was tall, with long, slightly disheveled blond hair and sharp blue eyes that burned with urgency. He was breathing hard, his leather jacket unzipped over a plain white shirt. His presence was commanding, familiar in a way that sent a chill down Callum's spine. 

"Where's Micah?" the man demanded, his voice tight with concern. 

Callum's breath caught. 

He needed no introduction to know he was staring at Damian Wells. 

Or, as his heart whispered traitorously: Edric.