The manor was silent.
Outside the window, rain kissed the glass in a gentle rhythm, and the world seed to exhale after a long day of tension. The soft golden glow of the bedside lamps lit the room in warmth, casting shadows that flickered against the high walls of Ethan and Adrian’s bedroom.
Adrian sat curled at the edge of the bed, his knees tucked beneath him, flipping through a book he hadn’t really been reading. His silver eyes moved across the page, but his thoughts were elsewhere — tangled in mories of long days, children’s laughter, and the lingering pressure of responsibility.
Then the door creaked open.
Ethan stepped in, his silhouette broad against the dim hallway light, his dark eyes softening when they landed on Adrian. He shut the door gently, as though he didn’t want to disturb the quiet sanctuary that had settled between them.
"You’re still awake," Ethan said, voice low and husky.
Adrian looked up and smiled faintly. "Couldn’t sleep. Too much in my head."
Ethan walked toward him, his footsteps padded and slow. He sat beside Adrian, close but not crowding, and leaned back on his hands, gazing at the ceiling.
They sat like that for a long mont. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled.
"I kept thinking," Adrian murmured, "what if we hadn’t made it through? What if sothing had gone wrong with the serum, with the kids, with you?"
Ethan looked over at him. "But we did make it."
"I know," Adrian said, but his voice cracked a little, betraying the fear still lodged in his chest.
Ethan reached out and cupped Adrian’s face gently. "Hey."
Adrian’s gaze flicked up to et his.
"You’re here," Ethan said. "I’m here. The kids are sleeping, and the world isn’t burning. Let that be enough for tonight."
Adrian’s lip trembled. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Ethan’s.
And then Ethan kissed him.
Softly. Slowly. Like the rain outside — gentle, lingering, familiar.
There was no urgency, only the desire to remind each other of the love that had pulled them through every storm. Ethan’s hands slid to Adrian’s waist, pulling him closer. Adrian shifted, moving to sit in Ethan’s lap, arms wrapping around his neck.
Their lips parted only for breath, and Ethan whispered against his skin, "You still taste like tea and trouble."
Adrian laughed quietly, his breath warming Ethan’s neck. "And you still sll like danger and coffee."
Ethan pulled back just enough to see his face — flushed, glowing, silver eyes shining with sothing unspoken.
"I missed you," Ethan admitted.
"You saw three hours ago."
"I missed this. Just us."
Adrian nodded. " too."
They sat there for a while, bodies pressed close, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence. Ethan pressed his lips to Adrian’s temple, then his cheek, then the edge of his jaw — soft touches like starlight, reverent and full of aning.
Adrian sighed, resting his head on Ethan’s shoulder. "You always know how to calm down."
Ethan chuckled. "It’s a talent. Or maybe I’m just obsessed with you."
"That too."
They both laughed, the sound low and warm, wrapped in love and years of shared mories.
Later, they lay side by side on the bed, under the soft blankets, facing each other.
Ethan brushed a lock of Adrian’s hair from his forehead, fingers trailing gently down his cheek.
"You’re beautiful," he whispered.
Adrian blushed, even now. "You’re biased."
"No," Ethan said, voice dipping low. "I’m in love. Big difference."
Adrian reached out, placing a hand over Ethan’s heart. "Does it still race when I touch you?"
Ethan captured his wrist gently, pressing a kiss to his palm. "Every single ti."
They shifted closer until they were nose to nose, knees brushing under the covers.
"I rember," Adrian whispered, "when I first t you, I thought you were the most irritatingly handso man I’d ever seen."
"I rember thinking you looked like a porcelain doll who might bite."
Adrian snorted. "Not wrong."
"But now," Ethan continued, his voice softening, "I see the man who stood through hell beside . The father of our children. The love of my life."
Adrian’s throat tightened. "I don’t say it enough, but I love you, Ethan. I an it. So much that it hurts sotis."
Ethan pulled him close again, wrapping both arms around him. "Then let’s hurt together."
They didn’t speak after that for a while. There was only the sound of the rain, the warmth of two bodies pressed together, and the deep, unwavering beat of their hearts in sync.
Eventually, Adrian yawned against Ethan’s chest.
"Sleep," Ethan murmured. "I’ll be here when you wake up."
"Promise?"
"Always."
.
.
The house was quiet.
The soft hum of the heater whispered through the walls, and the distant ticking of a clock marked each second with quiet indifference.
But inside the master bedroom, Isaac was drowning.
He jerked awake with a gasp, sweat clinging to his skin like cold syrup. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling too fast. His eyes scanned the room, wild and desperate, searching for sothing — soone — his mind hadn’t yet confird was real.
"Lucas," he rasped. "Lucas—?"
The bed beside him was empty.
And for a mont — that brutal, hollow, bone-splintering mont — Isaac’s mind betrayed him.
Lucas was dead.
Shot at the police station.
Blood on sterile white tiles.
Gone.
A sob caught in his throat as he tore off the covers and stumbled out of bed, legs shaking as he rushed out of the room like a man chasing a ghost. Every step echoed through the hallway like a punishnt.
He found Lucas in the kitchen, pouring water into a glass, dressed in soft pajamas, silver-blonde hair ruffled from sleep.
The second Lucas turned toward him, Isaac stopped.
His heart broke again — this ti from relief.
"Isaac?" Lucas blinked, stepping forward. "What happened?"
Isaac couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor with a choked sob, hands trembling as if the world beneath him had crumbled.
Lucas was beside him in an instant, setting the glass aside and pulling him into a tight embrace.
"I’m here," Lucas whispered, arms around him, grounding him. "I’m right here."
"I thought—" Isaac’s voice cracked. "I thought I lost you again."
Lucas held him tighter, hand stroking the back of his head, guiding Isaac’s face to his shoulder. "I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed in bed."
"No—don’t apologize—" Isaac shook his head, but his body betrayed his words. He clung to Lucas as though letting go would cost him everything.
Lucas whispered softly, "You were dreaming again?"
Isaac gave a small nod. "The station. The shot. You falling. There was so much blood... I reached out and—"
He couldn’t finish.
Lucas kissed the side of his head. "It wasn’t your fault."
"I should’ve protected you."
"You did. I lived."
"But I didn’t know that for months." Isaac’s voice cracked. "And I kept thinking — what if you were alone? What if you thought I left you? What if I never said goodbye properly?"
Lucas pulled back just enough to cup Isaac’s face. "Hey. Look at ."
Their eyes t — black and gold.
"I never thought you left ," Lucas said. "Even when everything went black, I rembered one thing: that I loved you. And I knew, sohow, you’d be hurting. But I also knew you’d survive it — because you’re Isaac. And now we’re here. Together."
Isaac’s lip quivered. "It still hurts. The dreams, they don’t stop. I feel like I’m losing you all over again."
"Then wake next ti," Lucas said. "Shake , cry, scream if you have to. But don’t go through it alone."
Isaac leaned into his touch. "How do you stay so calm?"
Lucas smiled gently. "Because I know love is stronger than death."
The words sat between them like light filtering through fog.
Isaac nodded slowly, his hands wrapping around Lucas’s waist, forehead pressed to his chest.
"Sorry I scared you."
"You didn’t," Lucas whispered. "But maybe... we need to talk more about this. You keep carrying it like a shadow behind you."
Isaac’s voice was small. "I don’t know how to let go."
"Then we’ll learn together."
Back in their bedroom, Lucas changed the sheets — the old ones were soaked in sweat. Isaac sat on the edge of the bed, breathing deeper now, watching Lucas move around with quiet efficiency.
Lucas returned with a fresh glass of water and handed it to him.
"Here."
Isaac took it with a shaky hand, sipping. His voice was steadier now. "Do you think it’ll ever stop? The nightmares?"
Lucas sat beside him. "Maybe. Or maybe they’ll beco softer over ti. I think so grief never goes away. It just... changes shape."
Isaac turned toward him. "You know, I don’t say it often enough, but—thank you."
"For what?"
"For being here. For coming back. For choosing to love soone who’s... like this."
Lucas leaned forward, brushing their foreheads together. "You’re not broken, Isaac. You’re healing. I’m lucky you’re letting be part of that."
The sky outside started to lighten — soft purples bleeding into the navy of night.
Isaac stirred first, blinking at the soft glow of dawn.
Lucas was still asleep beside him, one hand over Isaac’s chest, breathing even and peaceful.
Isaac stared at him for a long while, letting the image burn into his mory — this mont, this peace, this second chance at love.
He leaned over and kissed Lucas’s forehead gently.
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