The bathroom stall door locks with a click, but I can still hear the muffled music from the bar below. Zhuge Dan kneels in front of me, his makeup smudged where tears have streaked down his face. "Let me help you," he says, his voice breaking as his hands reach for my belt.

I should push him away. We're brothers—twins. This is wrong on every level. But my body betrays me, already reacting to his touch despite the horror of what just happened upstairs.

The memory floods back unbidden—the hands restraining me, the unwanted touches, the sickening realization they thought I was him. My stomach churns with revulsion, yet my body throbs with the drug still coursing through my veins, awakening desires I've fought for years.

"You're not helping," I gasp as his fingers brush against my erection. It's too much—his proximity, his concern, the way his identical face looks up at me with those eyes that match my own.

He freezes, his hands hovering. In the dim light, his smudged eyeliner looks like tear tracks of blood. "What do you want from me, then?" His voice cracks. "I found you like that... let them touch you..."

The words hang between us. I can smell the alcohol on his breath mixed with the familiar scent of our shared shampoo. Outside, someone tries the door handle before moving on. We're alone, but not really—just two brothers in a bathroom stall, broken boundaries and bodies that remember exactly how we fit together.

"I don't know," I whisper, and it's the truth.