Chapter One
Tommy
Tommy loved his boyfriend.
That was the part that made everything else harder to admit.
Nothing was wrong.
Not technically.
Logan still reached for his hand when they crossed the street. Still kissed his forehead when he thought Tommy was asleep. Still texted him in the middle of the day, little check-ins that felt warm and automatic all at once.
Eat something.
Drive safe.
Miss you.
Safe love.
Steady love.
Tommy sat curled into the corner of the couch, socked feet tucked under his thigh, hoodie sleeves pulled halfway over his hands. The fabric swallowed his narrow shoulders, making him look smaller than he already was. His dark hair fell into his eyeswhen he tilted his head down at his phone, the screen casting a soft glow over blue irises that were always too easy to read.
Logan sat beside him, broad shoulders relaxed, unaware of how much space he took up. The light from the screen caught against bronze skin and traced the strong line of his jaw. His dark eyes, nearly black in this lighting, stayed locked on the game, focused and intent.
Close enough that their knees touched.
Close enough that Tommy could feel the solid warmth of Logan’s thigh pressed against his own.
And yet the distance felt wider than the couch.
Logan laughed into his headset. Loud and unrestrained, his shoulders shaking as he leaned forward with the controller gripped tight in his hands. His forearms flexed as he shifted, muscle built from years of lifting and labor, not vanity.
Tommy looked up from his phone automatically.
He couldn’t remember the last time that laugh had been because of him.
The realization didn’t land sharply.
It settled.
Slow.
Like dust collecting in the corners of a room no one had opened the windows in for too long. He had always been good at being easy to love, just not loud enough to be unforgettable.
There were takeout containers scattered across the coffee table. Soy sauce packets torn open. A grease stain blooming through the bottom of the paper bag.
The room smelled like fried rice and habit.
Tommy watched the way the television light caught along Logan’s stubble when he turned his head slightly, the curve of his smile, the deep concentration in his expression as he shouted directions into the mic.
He used to look at Tommy like that.
Not casually.
Hungrily.
