The morning light slid across the bed in soft gold.
Leo stirred first, blinking slowly. He felt the warmth behind him before the memory caught up—the storm in Kieran's eyes, the softness in his touch, the heat between them.
Kieran's arm was still wrapped around his waist, bare chest rising and falling against Leo's back. Peaceful. Human.
Leo smiled faintly and whispered, "Still here?"
Kieran didn't open his eyes, but his voice was clear. "Told you. I don't run anymore."
Leo turned in his arms, their legs tangled under the sheets. He rested his head on Kieran's shoulder, drawing slow circles on his chest.
Kieran looked at him. "Last night…"
"I wanted it," Leo said. "All of it. No regrets."
Kieran smiled—just a little. "You're kind of dangerous when you're stubborn."
Leo kissed him lazily. "Guess you've got a type."
---
But peace didn't last long.
By afternoon, news trickled in—quiet and sharp like a blade.
The fire didn't kill everyone.
One body was missing.
Kieran stood by the sink, phone in hand, jaw tight.
Leo approached. "Rael?"
Kieran nodded. "He made it out."
Leo swallowed. "Do you think he'll come back?"
Kieran looked at his reflection in the window—dark eyes, messy hair, marks still faint on his throat.
"He never left."