Empty Cup

"Baby."

"Hmmp," I groaned, my face buried deep in the pillows.

"I’m going down to the laundry room," a soft, cheerful voice whispered. "Don’t forget to eat your breakfast while it's hot, okay?"

A sweet, innocent kiss pressed against my temple. I heard the rustle of a laundry basket, soft footsteps retreating down the hall, and the heavy click of the front door locking shut.

I slowly forced my eyes open.

Shit. The morning light felt like daggers in my skull. My head throbbed with a sickening hangover, and my entire body felt heavy, bruised, and completely drained. I rolled over and squinted at the digital clock. 8:00 AM.

The memories of last night hit me like a freight train. Andrew's cold, deadpan stare. The physical fight in the VIP booth. Gaby dragging my hollow shell back to the loft. The horrifying, desperate, entirely one-sided sex where I lay completely numb while she clawed my chest open. It was all vividly, agonizingly real.

I dragged my aching body out of bed and walked out to the kitchen.

Everything was sickeningly perfect. A hot plate of eggs and a steaming mug of coffee were waiting for me on the pristine marble island. I looked around the open-concept loft. It was absolutely spotless. The clothes we had torn off in a panic last night were gone. The ruined bedsheets had been stripped and replaced.

It was as if last night’s psychological nightmare had never even happened. Every single trace of our trauma had been methodically, desperately scrubbed away.

I walked into the bathroom and gripped the edges of the sink, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I completely froze.

The deep, bleeding scratches Gaby had clawed into my chest and the harsh bite marks along my collarbone had been carefully cleaned. They were covered with small, neat bandages and smelled faintly of antiseptic. She had treated my wounds while I was passed out.

Fuck. It wasn't a bad dream. But why the hell was she acting like a cheerful 1950s housewife after what we just went through?

I splashed freezing water on my face, walked back out to the kitchen, and took a sip of the coffee. It was perfectly brewed.

The manic fog had finally lifted. My cold, sobering rationality was back. I needed to talk to Gaby. I had to end this. I was turning her into a monster, and I didn't want to destroy her life any further.

The White Flag.

After forcing the breakfast down my throat, I carried my coffee mug out to the balcony. The cold, morning city wind hit my face. I leaned my forearms against the metal railing, sparked a cigarette, and stared out at the Chicago skyline.

I was deep in thought, coldly mapping out the logistics of the breakup. I needed to find a safe place for her to stay, since her summer classes were still ongoing and I couldn't just throw her out onto the street. I would offer to pay for a sublet. I would take the blame. I would do it cleanly.

Fuck. I felt terrible. After everything she had sacrificed to try and be enough for me, and after the horrific ways I had degraded her to numb my own grief... I was a total, irredeemable asshole.

"Baby..."

I flinched, violently pulled from my thoughts. I turned around.

Gaby was standing in the doorway of the balcony. She was holding the empty laundry basket against her hip. She looked absolutely exhausted. Her face was pale, restless, and her brown eyes looked completely cornered. She was staring at me standing in Jessica's sacred spot, and she looked absolutely terrified. She knew exactly what I was thinking. She was bracing for the end.

Fuck. Can I really do this to her? I looked at her trembling hands. My spine instantly dissolved.

"I didn’t hear you come in, babe," I said smoothly. The charming, perfect-boyfriend mask snapped instantly back over my face, accompanied by a warm, gentle smile.

She exhaled a massive, shaky breath. The terror vanished from her eyes, instantly replaced by her usual, desperate warmth. Just hearing me call her 'babe' was enough to convince her she was safe. "I wanted to surprise you, baby!"

Shit. I am a pathetic coward. "Let’s get back inside," I said, stepping off the balcony and closing the glass door behind me. "You still aren't done showing me that novel you were raving about last week."

She giggled, a bright, relieved sound, and immediately clung to my arm. "Yes! Let’s go, baby!"

My God. I am the worst person alive.

*

July 2012.

It had been three full weeks since the explosive intervention at the underground club.

I had completely ghosted the Russian crew. I actively ignored all of Nikolay’s calls and left Andrew's texts on read. I couldn't face them. Instead, I dedicated all my energy to maintaining a flawless, impenetrable facade with Gaby.

This time, it wasn't the manic, adrenaline-chasing "Sex Demon" controlling my actions. It was just the old, hypocritical, cowardly version of Daeron. I was staying with her because I was terrified of hurting her further. I hesitated every single day to have "the talk," entirely too scared to break her heart.

Our life over those three weeks became aggressively, suffocatingly normal. The only major difference was the sex. We no longer engaged in the wild, violent, boundary-pushing intensity we relied on to numb the pain. The adrenaline had completely dried up. Now, we were just two broken people playing house, trapped in a quiet, domestic purgatory.

Diiiing!

The sharp, sudden chime of the doorbell shattered the quiet purgatory of the loft. My head snapped up. It was highly unusual for anyone to visit. The doorman in the lobby always called up first to announce guests.

"Babe! Are your friends coming over?" I called out from the kitchen, wiping my wet hands on a dish towel.

"No?" Gaby replied, walking out of the bedroom and heading down the hall. "My friends always wait for me down on the ground floor."

A cold spike of paranoia hit my chest. I threw the towel onto the marble island and followed her. As I rounded the corner into the entryway, I stopped dead. Gaby was frozen, her hand still gripping the doorknob. The door was wide open.

Standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the hallway were Nikolay, Boris, and Andrew. Boris had his massive combat boot wedged against the bottom of the door so it couldn't be shut.

"Derro. Long time no see, eh?" Nikolay said. There was no booming laughter. There was no vodka in his hand. His tone was absolutely lethal.

"What’s wrong, boys?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave. I stepped forward, grabbing Gaby by the waist and pulling her firmly behind my back.

Nikolay pulled down his dark aviator shades. His eyes scanned the pristine, immaculate apartment, and a dark, disgusted smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Derro! We just missed you." He stepped forward, aggressively dropping his shoulder to shove past my chest and enter the loft. Boris and Andrew followed him inside like a heavily armed tactical unit.

Nikolay began slowly pacing around the living room, taking in the sanitized aesthetic that had completely erased my past. Boris and Andrew stood by the heavy front door, blocking the exit. They didn't speak. They just stared at me and Gaby with cold, unblinking judgment. I could feel Gaby’s small hands trembling violently against my spine as she hid behind me.

"Why did you come up here without calling me first?" I demanded, my ego instantly flaring up to mask my panic.

He didn't answer me. "Very neat place you have here, Derro. So clean. Not messy like it used to be."

He walked over to my leather sofa and sat down, spreading his arms across the backrest. "Come sit down. Why are you so tense, Derro? We are brothers, no?"

"You didn’t answer my question, Broda."

Nikolay stared at me. The silence in the loft was deafening. Finally, he stood back up. "You are a very interesting man, Derro."

He began to circle me like a predator assessing a wounded animal. "Sometimes you are charming. Sometimes you look like a genuinely dangerous fighter. Sometimes you act so damn smart." He stopped his pacing, standing just a few feet away. "But looking at you right now... hiding in your apartment... you just look like a pathetic coward."

My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth would crack.

"I gave you three weeks. THREE. FUCKING. WEEKS!" Nikolay suddenly roared, the sheer volume of his voice making Gaby flinch violently behind me. The veins on his temples bulged. "Initially, I wanted to give you one week to snap out of your bullshit. But Andrew suggested we should give you more space. He said you were hurting. But three fucking weeks of complete radio silence? Coward!"

"What the fuck do you want from me?!" I yelled back.

"What do I want?" He let out a loud, manic laugh that sent chills down my spine. "I want to look you in the eyes and tell you that you are a total hypocrite."

My fists clenched automatically, my knuckles turning white. Hypocrite. The word echoed violently in my skull, tearing open old, unhealed wounds. Tyson had called me the exact same thing right before I ruined my life in high school.

"But you’re not just a hypocrite," Nikolay sneered, pointing a finger directly at my face. "You are a narcissist. You are completely self-absorbed. You are entirely egoistic. And above all else, you are a fucking coward!"

My patience completely evaporated. The manic, predatory persona violently seized control of my brain. My muscles tightened, locking into a martial arts stance. Gaby gripped my shirt, terrified.

"You’re just a little boy spending your old man’s money to play pretend!" Nikolay spat, looking at me with absolute, unfiltered disdain. "Walking around the city acting like an independent, badass man. Hah! You are delusional! And you dared to taint an innocent girl, dragging her down into your sick misery just because you couldn't handle the problems you created yourself! You are disgusting. Maybe that’s exactly why Jessica finally left you!"

I completely snapped. The mention of her name blinded me. "FUCK! HOW DARE YOU!"

I planted my back foot, rotating my hips to launch a devastating, knockout kick directly at Nikolay's head.

But I never reached him. A massive, vice-like grip clamped down onto the back of my shirt, yanking me violently backward. I stumbled, glancing over my shoulder. Boris had silently flanked me while Nikolay was ranting. His expression was completely dead.

I instantly shifted my weight, dropping my center of gravity and swinging a brutal, specialized elbow strike aimed right at Boris's jaw.

It was completely useless. Boris was a massive, highly trained brawler, and he wasn't playing games. Before my elbow even came close to connecting, his huge palm slammed into the back of my neck. Simultaneously, his heavy combat boot swept the back of my legs with bone-bruising force.

The world spun wildly out of control. My body slammed down brutally against the hardwood floor. The violent impact knocked the air entirely out of my lungs, and I felt my ribs groan under the extreme pressure.

"Baby!!!" Gaby shrieked in absolute terror.

Boris's huge body dropped down on top of me. He effortlessly pinned my torso and my arms to the floorboards, applying just enough pressure to completely immobilize me. His massive hand grabbed the back of my head, crushing my cheek against the cold hardwood.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I thrashed wildly. I used every single grappling technique, every leverage trick, and every escape maneuver I had ever learned in the dojo. Nothing worked. It was like a toddler trying to wrestle a bear. He had me entirely, flawlessly locked down. I couldn't move a single inch. My physical ego was shattered in exactly three seconds.

"Bastards! Let me go! Fight me face to face!" I shouted, my voice muffled by the floor.

I heard Andrew's calm, authoritative voice speaking above me. I couldn't hear what he was saying over the frantic ringing in my ears. A second later, I felt the heavy vibration of the metal front door slamming shut. Gaby’s terrified presence was completely gone. The extraction was complete. Andrew had taken her away to save her from me.

"Assholes! Where is Gaby?!" I screamed, my throat tearing.

They remained completely silent. I kept struggling, twisting my shoulders and kicking my legs, desperately trying to fight my way out of the pin. But I was completely trapped.

"FUUUCK!!!" I gathered every last ounce of my adrenaline for one massive, explosive push. I shoved upward with all my might. I didn't even budge him.

My energy completely depleted. The fight drained out of my muscles, leaving me entirely limp against the hardwood floor. "Just let it go... please," I sobbed, my voice breaking. "Don’t take her away from me."

Hot, pathetic tears spilled from my eyes, pooling on the floorboards. The physical pain of the pin morphed into a suffocating, crushing helplessness. I was completely broken.

I heard the slow, deliberate crunch of footsteps. Nikolay crouched down on the floor, his face coming into my line of sight.

"Are you crying because she is gone, Derro?" Nikolay asked, his voice a low, devastating whisper. "Or are you just terrified of being alone in the dark again?"

His words pierced straight through my chest, twisting like a jagged knife. Because the dark, sickening, horrifying truth was... I didn't care about Gaby. I just didn't want to be alone. And as I lay crying on the floor, completely stripped of my pride, it wasn't Gaby's face I saw in my mind.

It was Jessica's.

*

The crushing pressure on my spine vanished. Boris slowly loosened his iron grip, stepping back and leaving me sobbing weakly against the cold hardwood floor.

"You keep ruining yourself because your cup is always full, Derro. That is why you keep making the exact same mistakes over and over again. Your cup is already full of rotten milk," Nikolay said, his voice dropping into a low, steady cadence.

I felt two massive hands grip my shoulders. Boris effortlessly hauled my dead weight off the floor, propping me up until I was sitting cross-legged, forced to look directly at Nikolay.

"Empty your cup, Derro!" Nikolay ordered, pointing at my chest. "Throw away the rotten milk!"

"…How?" I choked out. My voice sounded pathetic, hollow, and utterly desperate. "How do I do that?"

"By stopping your endless running. You have to face reality," Nikolay said. The manic, party-boy facade was completely gone. He was speaking to me with the stern, soothing authority of an older brother pulling a sibling back from the ledge.

"You do not make mistakes because you are trying to be a good person, Broda," a deep, rumbling voice echoed.

I looked up. Boris had broken his usual intimidating silence. He sat down heavily on the floor right beside Nikolay. His stone-cold expression melted into something incredibly soft and empathetic. "You make mistakes because you try so fucking hard to act like the bad guy."

I stared at the giant Russian, completely stunned.

"You think we keep you around because of your old man’s money? Or because you act like a crazy maniac at the clubs?" Boris rumbled. "Bullshit. We respect you because you take care of your people. Do you even remember what you did for us?"

My brow furrowed in genuine confusion. The tears blurred my vision. "I don’t understand what you're talking about."

Boris smiled—a rare, incredibly warm expression. "That is exactly why we respect you, Broda. The fact that you do not even remember doing it proves that your actions are genuine."

"Do you remember last winter, when you forced Andrew to cook golubtsy every single time my mother called me, just to cure my homesickness?" Nikolay asked softly. "Do you realize that you always go out of your way to help Andrew clean up our messy apartment, and you spent time with him more just because you knew he was the quiet introvert of our group? Or what about when you started stockpiling massive crates of orange juice in our fridge every single week until Andrew and I were sick of looking at it, all just because you noticed Boris loved to drink it?"

Nikolay paused, letting the memories hang in the quiet air of the loft. "To you, maybe those were just mundane, everyday acts. But to us? That means everything, Derro. It showed us your true character. It showed us that you actually protect the people around you. That is why you are our brother."

My chest violently caved in. The tears poured freely down my face. I had spent months trying to become a toxic, manipulative monster, completely forgetting that the very reason these guys let me into their circle was because I was a good, observant friend.

" That is why Andrew stepped up and took your punch last night without fighting back, Derro", Nikolay said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze my trembling shoulder. "He considers you his best friend. We all consider you our brother. And brothers do not let brothers turn into monsters."

I couldn't speak. I just wept, nodding my head.

"We are going to give you time to settle your business with Gaby," Nikolay stated, his tone shifting into firm, protective accountability. "We trust that you will make a good, sober judgment after this. But we are giving you two weeks, tops. If you do not handle this like a man, we will come pick Gaby up ourselves. We have already arranged a safe apartment for her to stay in if things between you two do not work out."

They had already set up a safety net for the girl I was abusing. They were saving us both.

"…Thank you," I sobbed, completely overwhelmed by their grace.

Both of them smiled genuinely, the heavy tension in the room finally evaporating.

"Trust yourself, Derro," Boris rumbled, clapping a heavy hand on my knee. "We always have your back."

Boris pulled out his phone and made a brief call to Andrew. Five minutes later, the front door opened. Andrew escorted Gaby inside, gave me one final, curt nod, and then the three brothers walked out, pulling the heavy metal door shut behind them.

The silence they left behind was deafening.

I wiped my raw face with the back of my hand and slowly stood up. The manic fog was completely gone. I needed to be brave. I needed to face my problems head-on and finally be the man Jessica and the brothers thought I was.

Gaby stood near the entryway, her arms wrapped defensively around her own stomach. She looked incredibly upset and terrified. I didn't know what Andrew had told her while they were waiting in the hallway, but the awkward, heavy tension between us was suffocating.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. I couldn't run anymore. It was time to put all my cards on the table and finally end this nightmare.

"Can we talk about this, Gaby?"

She flinched. She refused to meet my eyes, staring intensely at the floorboards. "… I can’t right now. I… I promised to hang out with my friends."

She dashed past me, escaping into the bedroom. A second later, she hurried out with her purse and rushed out of the front door without saying another word.

I walked into the kitchen and pulled a cold beer from the fridge. My chest physically ached watching her run away like that. She was absolutely terrified of having "the talk" because she knew exactly how it was going to end. It was entirely my fault. Nikolay was right. I was a fucking coward. An indecisive, self-absorbed monster. I was completely disgusted with myself.

The sun set, plunging the city into darkness, but Gaby still hadn't returned. I sat on the sofa in the dark, staring at my illuminated phone screen, desperately waiting for a reply to the texts I had sent her. The silence was deafening. Eventually, the mental exhaustion took over, and I passed out on the cushions.

"Baby…"

I woke up in a haze. I blinked against the dark, finding Gaby standing quietly beside the sofa, clutching her purse to her chest.

"You just got back?" I sat up, checking the glowing screen of my phone. It was 2:00 AM. "Are you alright, Gaby?"

"Were you waiting up for me, baby?" she asked, her voice impossibly small.

"Yeah," I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "But don’t worry about it. Listen... we really need to talk, Gaby."

"It’s already so late, baby. Let’s just go to bed, okay?" she deflected instantly, her eyes pleading with me to drop it.

"I’ll take the couch tonight, Gaby. It’s—"

"—Please." She lunged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck in a desperate hug. "Please. At least sleep in your bed tonight. I’ll take the couch if you need the space. Just don't push me away yet."

Fuck.

"… Alright," I whispered, gently rubbing her back. "Let’s go to bed."

We walked into the bedroom. But when we laid down, the dynamic had completely shifted. She didn't press herself against my chest or cling to my arm. She stayed on her side of the mattress, staring at the wall.

For the next week, she built a fortress of absolute denial. Every day was aggressively, sickeningly normal. She reverted to her cheerful, tidy self, but the dark, submissive lust was completely gone. She didn't initiate sex once.

I texted Andrew, begging to know what he had said to her in the hallway to cause this shift. He just replied: ‘The necessary things.’ Whenever the atmosphere in the loft felt safe enough, I tried to gently breach the topic of our breakup.

"Look, the pacing in this book is actually incredible! You should read it!" Gaby beamed, waving a horror paperback at me in the mini-library.

"No way, Gaby. The last time you recommended a book, it gave me nightmares," I laughed softly. I set my own book down, taking a deep breath. "Anyway, Gaby... can we talk abou—"

"Baby! I’m going to make some ravioli!" she loudly cut me off, jumping to her feet. "I finally learned the recipe, and you absolutely have to try it! Wait right here!" She sprinted out of the library and into the kitchen, loudly clattering pots and pans to drown out my voice.

It was always like this. The second the illusion was threatened, she ran. And I was too guilty to force her to sit down and listen. I had already broken her heart; the least I could do was be patient and let her let go on her own terms.

**

Exactly one week later, the denial finally broke.

Gaby was sitting on the floor cushions in the mini-library. She didn't have a book in her hands. She was just staring blankly at the empty shelves.

"Baby... can we talk for a moment?" Her sweet, trembling voice broke the heavy silence.

"Yes?" I closed my textbook, my heart dropping into my stomach.

"I think... I’m going to move out tomorrow."

The words stung perfectly.

"I think your friend was right. You need a lot of space right now," she whispered. She looked at me, a subtle, heartbreaking smile fighting through the sorrow on her face. She wasn't angry. She was just defeated.

A sharp, agonizing tingle of guilt spread through my ribs.

"So... can I just cuddle with you tonight, baby?" Her brown eyes were swimming with unshed tears. "I promise, it’s only cuddling."

"… Yes. Of course."

She smiled brightly, a beautiful, tragic expression. "Thank you."

That night was the longest night of my life. My emotions were completely fractured. I held her as she slept peacefully against my chest, staring at the ceiling and silently praying that she would find someone who actually deserved her light.

The next morning, Andrew pulled his truck up to the loading dock to pick her up. He had arranged for her to move into a smaller apartment closer to campus. Right up until the moment she walked out of my door for the last time, she kept giving me that bright, warm, forgiving smile. She still had my spare key attached to her keychain, but I didn’t ask for it back. I would let her return it when she was ready to completely close the door.

**

After she moved out, the Russian crew stepped up. Nikolay, Boris, and Andrew visited the loft constantly, or I would go hang out at their place. We still hit the local bars, but we just drank and shot the shit like normal guys. There was no wild exhibitionism. No manic stunts. I knew they were deliberately holding back to protect my sobriety.

Nikolay started aggressively pushing me to get a part-time job. His intention was obvious: keep my hands and my mind busy so I wouldn't rot alone in my empty loft. I agreed with him. Boris pulled some strings, and within a few days, I was hired as a part-time barista at a busy local cafe.

When the Fall Semester started, I was officially walking the campus as a real sophomore. My lie was finally the truth.

Sometimes, I would pass Gaby in the crowded quads. We didn't stop to talk, but she would always catch my eye, flash her warmest smile, and give me a cute little wave.

It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. Sometimes, I selfishly wished she would just scream at me and hate me. Her unwavering grace was the ultimate punishment. Because every time I went home after seeing her, I didn't sit in the mini-library. I sat out on the balcony.

Thankfully, my new schedule kept me grounded. Between my sophomore classes and my barista shifts, I was constantly distracted. I was actually getting good at my job, talking with dozens of strangers every day, slowly relearning how to be a functioning human being.

But still, whenever the loft was too quiet, my eyes always drifted back to the glass doors of the balcony. The ghost was still there.

Until October 2012 finally arrived. The month I decided I was going to pack up the ghost and completely move on from this sad, broken mess. But true closure had to begin with one last visit, and one final goodbye, from the most genuine person I had ever met—the girl who became the victim of my manic ego.

Gabriella.