Chapter 11
After changing into something more comfortable, Rian walked into the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks.
The table was full—dish after dish, more than they ever cooked even on special occasions. It looked like a feast.
"Come on," Adrian said brightly, pulling out a chair for him.
Rian sat slowly, his eyes still scanning the food. "Isn't this too much? Or… are we having someone over?"
Adrian chuckled, shaking his head. "No. Just you and me." He reached for a bottle of champagne, pouring into two glasses. He slid one toward Rian with an easy smile.
Rian accepted it, though his grip felt stiff.
"To our love," Adrian toasted.
Rian forced a smile, raising his glass. The soft clink echoed in the quiet kitchen.
They ate mostly in silence. Adrian's eyes lingered on him often, as though searching for something. Rian kept his gaze down, chewing slowly, the food tasting richer than he could even register.
When they were finished, Adrian leaned back, satisfied. "Let's watch a movie. Like the old times."
Rian hesitated, then nodded. "Alright."
They settled on the couch. But instead of a film, the screen lit up with old videos—Adrian's old habit of filming their days together with his small camera.
There they were: Rian and Adrian at a café, Rian laughing freely. Another clip, Adrian asking him, "What was our favorite date?" and Rian answering with flushed cheeks, carefree, smiling like the world was theirs.
Onscreen, they held hands, walked through a park, leaned into each other, happy in a way that felt like a different lifetime.
Rian chuckled faintly at something the past-him said. Adrian laughed beside him, slipping an arm around his shoulders.
For a moment, it almost felt real again. Almost.
Rian's gaze shifted to the Adrian sitting beside him now. Adrian caught the look and smiled, warm, familiar.
He leaned in. Slowly. Carefully.
Rian didn't pull away. Their lips met—soft, lingering. The kiss deepened, dragging them into the memory playing across the screen.
On the TV, their younger selves laughed, holding hands in the sun.
On the couch, their older selves kissed in the flickering glow of the past.
------
The kiss deepened, slow at first, then hungrier. Adrian's hand cupped Rian's jaw, thumb brushing against his cheek with a tenderness that felt almost foreign now.
Rian's eyes fluttered shut. For a fleeting moment, it was as if the years of cracks between them had been sealed. As if nothing had broken.
Adrian's warmth pressed closer. His lips trailed down Rian's neck, a familiar pattern, a rhythm of touches Rian once craved. The scent of champagne clung to his breath, mixed with the faint spice of cologne.
"Adrian…" Rian whispered, but the name came out shaky, torn between resistance and longing.
"Shhh," Adrian murmured against his skin, pulling him closer, as if afraid Rian might vanish.
The video played on in the background—happier days, their laughter echoing faintly into the present. Onscreen, they were carefree. On the couch, they clung to each other like two drowning men sharing one breath.
Rian's body responded before his mind could catch up. His hands found Adrian's shoulders, then his chest, the fabric of his sweater soft under his fingers. The years of habit, of intimacy, of familiarity—they slipped back in like they had never left.
Adrian guided him gently, insistently, until the world outside no longer existed. Until the only sound was their breathing, the soft hum of the video, and the unspoken truth that despite everything—despite the lies, the pain, the fear—Rian was still bound to him.
The kiss deepened until Rian felt breathless, his body pressed flush against the couch. Adrian's hand slid lower, fingers grazing his waistband, and Rian gasped, clutching at his shoulders.
"Adrian—" his voice trembled, half-warning, half-plea.
Adrian pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. His smile was soft, but his gaze burned with hunger. "You don't have to say it," he whispered. "I already know."
Before Rian could answer, Adrian swept him up, strong arms lifting him effortlessly. The world spun, then steadied, as he was carried toward the bedroom—their bedroom.
The bed welcomed them with a soft thud as Adrian lowered him down, lips never leaving his skin. He kissed a trail along Rian's collarbone, down his chest, pausing only to murmur, "I've missed this. Missed you."
Rian's breath shuddered as Adrian's hands roamed, tugging away clothes with impatient ease. Every brush of skin against skin sent sparks racing through him, memories flooding back of every night they'd spent tangled like this before.
He knew he should stop it. Knew he should push Adrian away.
But when Adrian's mouth claimed his again, hot and desperate, the fight drained from him, replaced with a longing he thought he'd buried.
Adrian's touch was everywhere—possessive, claiming, as if to remind him that no one else had the right. The pace quickened, their bodies moving together in a rhythm that blurred reason into raw sensation.
The night melted into gasps and tangled sheets, into whispered names and desperate kisses.
By the time it was over, Rian lay against Adrian's chest, breath ragged, his body trembling from the intensity.
Adrian held him close, stroking his hair, his voice calm and assured, like a promise and a warning all at once.
"I love you," he murmured against him.
Rian closed his eyes, but the smile from the video replayed in his mind—his smile, back then. Carefree. Free.
He realized with a quiet ache that the man in those videos wasn't him anymore.
----
Alex sat in his car, the street outside his window blurring as the night dragged on. His coat still smelled faintly of Rian's house—warmth, faint traces of coffee, something achingly familiar.
He dragged a hand over his face. He hadn't meant to go there. Not like that. Not drunk, not half-frozen, not collapsing on Rian's doorstep like some broken man. But his legs had carried him there anyway, as if there was nowhere else left to go.
Rian's face haunted him. The way his voice broke when he asked him to leave. The slight tremor in his hands. Alex had noticed, even through the haze of drink. He'd noticed, and it had cut deeper than he wanted to admit.
But beneath that guilt was another weight—heavier, older.
Adrian.
Alex leaned back, staring at the car ceiling. His younger brother. The boy he left behind when he followed their mother out of that house. Back then, he told himself it was for the best. That Adrian would be fine. That their father, for all his flaws, wouldn't let him fall.
But that was a lie. And Alex knew it.
He remembered.
The factory floor.
The sound of fists.
The smell of blood.
He could see it again—his brother, Adrian, standing over a middle-aged worker. The man had tried to shield himself, but Adrian's rage was merciless, each strike sharper, heavier, fueled by something far darker than a simple temper.
The other workers just stood there. Silent. Frozen.
Alex had been the only one to move. His men rushed to separate them at his command, but Adrian had shaken them off like insects, straightening his collar as though nothing had happened.
And then—
That smile.
"Brother, I didn't see you there," Adrian had said, calm, pleasant, blood smeared across his collar. As if he hadn't just been seconds away from killing someone.
Alex dragged in a shaky breath, the memory tightening his chest.
He had gone to their father afterward, demanding action. But his father's voice still echoed in his ears:
It's handled. I paid the old man off. Adrian was just being childish.
Childish.
Alex shut his eyes, exhaling smoke through his teeth. That wasn't childishness he'd seen. That wasn't a tantrum. It was something else. Something dangerous.
And his father had smiled and brushed it aside, like it was normal. Like it was nothing.
The cigarette burned down to the filter, scorching his fingertips. He hissed, crushing it out against the ashtray, but the sting in his chest didn't fade.
He loved his brother. God help him, he did. But when he remembered Adrian's smile that day—calm, polished, so perfectly composed after so much violence—Alex felt something colder than guilt curl in his gut.
Fear.