The door opened. And there he was.
Adrian.
A rupture in the world. A face Logan had memorized and forgotten all at once. The shock of seeing Adrian would never dull. It cracked something open in him every time, as if his chest wasn’t made for this kind of reunion. As if memory and reality were fighting for the same space.
He stood there, caught in the gravity of him.
Adrian was light and shadow all at once—exhausted, beautiful, untouchable. Logan let himself bask in it, a man starved of sun finally stepping into morning. He drank in the sight with reverence, the way others might drink holy water, his soul stretching toward its missing half.
In that space, beneath the ruin and regret, beneath all the broken things between them, Logan could only thank the stars—whatever gods or ghosts or faith or streams had stitched this moment together—for letting him stand here. For letting him see him. For letting him try.
His heart whispered what his mouth couldn’t:You’re still mine. Somehow, you’re still mine.
And there, in the pause between heartbeats, they just stood facing each other, silence pooling between them. Adrian’s eyes were hollow constellations, impossible to read. He said nothing until he broke their spell and stepped aside, his bare feet softly sliding across the tile. Loganstepped inside, barely noticing the final click of the door closing behind him, his gaze fixed on Adrian.
Inside, the air carried the ghost of morning coffee despite the late hour and the distant breath of the Mediterranean drifting in through the open window. Beneath his shirt, the plastic film clung to his wrist, crinkling softly with every movement, the fresh ink beneath it still tender and concealed under the long sleeves of his button-down.
He followed Adrian into the kitchen, feeling both desperate and out of place, his pulse hammering with every step.
Then Logan’s eyes caught movement from the corner of the living room. Someone stood up from the couch, and the sight of him was equivalent to a punch to the gut:Itay.
Adrian’s ex.
Logan froze. An ache within his soul unfurled, weeping silently in anguish. He found himself caught in a haunting resonance of time, as though the walls had drawn inward, leaving only this stark reality: a figure from the past, suddenly, almost eternally, rooted in the heart of Adrian’s present. The same Itay they had run into in the Philippines, the same man who had tried to win Adrian back. He was tall, with unruly blond curls and striking blue eyes, wearing a crisp black button-down and light jeans. Even now, looking disheveled and a little raw, with puffy eyes and a scowl etched across his face, Itay still managed to look like he belonged in a magazine spread.
But none of that mattered. Logan didn’t care about the magazine-perfect details. What mattered—what thundered in his chest—was that this man was here. In Adrian’s house. On Adrian’s couch. In Adrian’s orbit. Like he belonged. Like he’d never left.
Logan’s mind raced.Had Adrian said anything? Had he mentioned someone? Had he mentioned… him?Had Adrian dropped a hint of a second chance with him?He couldn’t think of a single word Adrian had said about having a boyfriend in the past two days. No whispers of a lover’s return. No flicker of guilt. Nothing to brace against. Only this silence now, full of sharp corners.So, what the hell was Itay doing here?
Then Itay looked at him.
The stare was direct and unflinching—eyes bloodshot and shining with something darker than tears. Fury maybe. Or betrayal. Or the kind of pain that turns into fire if left unattended. His gaze sliced through Logan, an accusation without words:You don’t belong here.
Logan clenched his fists at his sides, his entire body vibrating with the urge to yell. To tell Itay to get out. To stand beside Adrian like a guard dog and demand that this man—this audacious, smug reminder of the past—leavehisAdrian alone. But Logan didn’t move.
Because he had no right.
He’d made his choice. He’d stood in front of Adrian and married someone else. He’d walked away, and Adrian… Adrian had every right to find comfort in someone else’s arms. Even if that someone was Itay.
Logan’s chest ached, the sharp pain threatening to tear him in two. His jaw tightened as his gaze flicked to Adrian, who stood silently by the kitchen counter, his face unreadable. Logan wanted to scream. He wanted to demand an explanation. But he didn’t. Instead, he swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat, his heart cracking a little more with every second that passed.
This wasn’t how he’d imagined this moment. Not at all.
Itay completely ignored Logan as if he didn’t even exist. He followed Adrian into the kitchen, speaking to him in rapid Hebrew.
Logan stood awkwardly in the middle of the house, sensing the tension thickening around him. Again, he felt left out, like an intruder in a space he had no right to occupy. He could hear Itay’s voice, sharp and insistent, like he was trying to talk sense into Adrian.
Logan moved to the living room and sat on the couch, deciding to wait and see what Adrian would do. He clenched his fists, his thoughts a chaotic mess of frustration, jealousy, and regret. From the living room, he could see Adrian at the counter, his movements methodical as he made coffee. Every so often, Adrian glanced at Itay, his expression guarded, unreadable.
“You’re not going to say anything?” Itay asked in Hebrew, his voice rising, tinged with anger. “You’re just… back together with him?”
Itay’s frustration filled the space of the small apartment. It was so poignant, so thick that Adrian felt it in his own body.
Over the years since Adrian and Itay had broken up, Itay had tried to move on. He’d dated here and there, half-hearted attempts to fill the void Adrian had left behind. But none of it ever worked. Deep down, Itay had never stopped chasing Adrian. The moment Logan walked out of Adrian’s life—marrying Sandy and leaving Adrian broken and vulnerable—Itay had stepped in, trying to rekindle what they once had.
Itay had tried everything. Again and again, he reached for the ruins they’d once called love, he’d brushed the dust off old memories and triedto remind Adrian of the long years they’d shared, their history, the love they’d built. He’d begged him to see reason, to let himself be loved again. But Adrian had been impenetrable, a fortress of anguish and heartbreak. It didn’t matter how many times Itay told him they could start over, that they could build something new—Adrian couldn’t hear it.
His heart still belonged to Logan.
