Claiming Mr.CEO

"Let's break up." The words sliced through the silence like a dagger. Crescent’s voice trembled as he forced them out, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He had never imagined himself uttering those words—especially not to Ace, the one he had once believed he would grow old with. He didn’t look away. His eyes, red-rimmed and watery, were fixed on Ace as if searching for a flicker of doubt or hesitation. But none came. Crescent’s chest rose and fell with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. He was trembling, not from fear, but from the avalanche of emotions surging inside him—love, betrayal, anger, sorrow—all of it churning and consuming him whole. His hands clenched at his sides as he blinked, trying to stave off the tears that were now blurring his vision. Every blink dampened his thick lashes until the first teardrop finally spilled over and traced a path down his cheek. Ace stood frozen, his mind reeling. Despite the arguments, the tension, the confusion—never had he thought Crescent would end things. Not like this. Not when he loved him this much. His lips parted, but his voice cracked under the weight of his disbelief. “What?” he whispered, almost as if the word itself would stop this nightmare from unfolding. He didn’t move. He didn’t run after Crescent. He didn’t yell. His feet felt cemented to the floor, his heart thudding violently in his chest. It was as though time itself had paused around them, waiting for one of them to say something, to undo what had just been said. Crescent gasped for breath, choking on his sobs. He tried to find the strength to repeat himself, but the words refused to form. Still, he pushed them out anyway, as if the act of saying them would somehow release the torment building inside him. “I said… we need to break up,” he repeated, each word coated in agony, his voice hoarse and strained. The finality in his tone shattered the fragile silence between them. Ace’s heart dropped. The world around him blurred, and for a moment, everything felt distant—Crescent’s face, the furniture in the room, even the air he breathed. All of it felt unreal. He swallowed hard, trying to process the blow. But then something inside him snapped. “You’re doing this because of him, aren’t you?” he accused, his voice low and venomous, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward. Crescent’s eyes widened. “What?” “That guy. The one in the photos,” Ace growled, his fists clenched. “You want to be with him, so you’re just tossing me aside. Is that it?” “Ace, stop,” Crescent whispered, shaking his head. “You’re jumping to conclusions again. I’m tired of your insecurities. You don’t even ask me what really happened. You just assume. You don’t trust me, and now you’re blaming me for something I didn’t even know existed. Whoever told you that I'm cheating is lying!” Tears rolled down Crescent’s cheeks freely now, unbothered and unhidden. His pain was raw, his voice cracking with every syllable. Ace’s anger faltered as he watched the love of his life cry before him. For a fleeting second, he wanted to step forward, wrap Crescent in his arms, and wipe away those tears—tell him everything would be okay. But then those cursed images from the morning flashed across his mind: Crescent, laughing with someone else, someone dangerously close. The intimate gestures. The timing. The trust that once tethered them together had eroded completely. He couldn’t forget. And worse, he couldn’t forgive. “You betrayed me,” he muttered, eyes darkening. “The one person I trusted most…” “You trusted me?” Crescent scoffed bitterly, brushing away his tears. “Did I ever bring up your past, Ace? All those rumors, all those names people threw at you… I ignored them. I believed you. Even when you were the city’s biggest heartbreaker, I trusted you with mine.” Ace's brows furrowed. “I never did anything behind your back—at least not after we got together. Everything I had before… that was before you. Why can’t you believe that?” “Then why don’t you believe me?” Crescent snapped back, his voice rising for the first time. “Why do you think I’d cheat? Do you really think so little of me?” Ace opened his mouth, but Crescent cut him off. “I’m not explaining myself anymore, Ace. Not for something I didn’t do. I will never answer to your baseless questions.” “So you think my questions are baseless?” Ace’s voice was cold now, controlled but lethal. Crescent didn’t reply. He didn’t plead. He didn’t beg. And that silence—that heavy, damning silence—was the loudest sound Ace had ever heard. “This is how you’re ending it?” Ace asked bitterly. “By making me the villain? By pretending you’re the victim?” Crescent’s expression twisted with heartbreak. “We lost trust in each other, Ace. And without that… we have nothing. We’re only hurting each other now.” He turned to leave. But Ace wouldn’t let go that easily. In a blur, he reached out and grabbed Crescent’s arm, pulling him back. Their faces were inches apart. Crescent could feel Ace’s breath on his lips, smell the faint scent of his cologne, and see the storm swirling in his eyes. His body betrayed him for a moment—leaning forward, yearning for the comfort that once lived in Ace’s embrace. But he stopped himself. He turned his head away, stepping back, away from the heat, away from the love. Ace’s hand slipped from his arm like it had been burned. His expression flickered—hurt, then anger, then something else entirely. He laughed. A hollow, bitter sound. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s break up.” Crescent didn’t say a word. He didn’t look back. He just walked to the door, opened it, and stepped out of Ace’s life. The door closed behind Crescent with a soft but irrevocable click, and with it, a chapter of his life slammed shut. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. Just final. The kind of silence that fills the space when something truly breaks. Inside, Ace hadn’t moved. He remained frozen in place, staring at the door. The apartment felt suffocating now—too quiet, too empty. He wanted to scream. Or chase Crescent. Instead, he stood frozen. On the other side of the door, Crescent crumbled. He sank to the floor and cried, the kind of crying that shakes your whole body—the kind that takes every ounce of strength to endure. That day, the sky mirrored their sorrow. As Crescent walked to his car, the dark clouds rolled in, thundering with fury. The world seemed to mourn with him. He paused mid-step, looking up at the sky, his eyes hollow. A single raindrop landed on his cheek, cold and sharp, like reality slapping him back into the present. Then came the downpour. And just like that, the pain inside him bled out with the rain. All the love, the hope, the dreams—they all washed away under the grey sky. His hands hung at his sides, his shoulders drooped, and his heart ached as he stood there, drenched and broken. He had done it. He had ended the love of his life. Even if it had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, even if it tore him apart—he walked away. And with every drop of rain, Crescent wept—for the memories, the laughter, the nights spent wrapped in each other’s arms, for the promises whispered under the stars. --- Two people. Ace—strong, guarded, a man who had built walls so high that no one dared climb them. No one, except Crescent. Crescent—soft, sincere, the kind of soul who believed that love could heal even the deepest wounds. He had fought to break through Ace’s barriers, piece by piece, until he reached the heart Ace had locked away. And Ace had let him in. They had loved fiercely. They believed in each other. Sworn forever. But sometimes, love isn’t enough. Sometimes, the wounds run too deep. Misunderstandings take root, and pride feeds them. And when trust is lost, even the strongest bond begins to crumble. They didn’t want to part ways. But they did. All it took was a single misunderstanding. One moment of doubt. One lapse in communication. And everything was lost. Their story, once filled with warmth and laughter, now ended in cold rain and silence. It was over.