Hidden Flames – Chapter X (Part One)

The morning was already hot before the sun climbed over the hills. The damp air settled on the farm as if the house, the stable and the trees were all breathing the same slow, heavy air.

Lucas and Nathan were still in bed. The sheet was twisted loosely around their waists, and a faint sheen of sweat and the ghost of each other’s touch still glimmered on their skin.

The lovemaking had been hot. The movements familiar. Their bodies responded to each other.

Yet something was missing.

Nathan turned his face into the pillow and watched Lucas in profile. There was a deeper line on his forehead than usual. His gaze did not sink into Nathan’s eyes, it only glided past them, as if searching for something farther away, beyond his shoulder.

His hips moved, his hand held Nathan, he knew exactly how to touch him. His body knew the choreography.

His soul seemed half a beat behind.

There were no gentle pauses. None of those moments when he would stop for a breath and smile down at him. Instead he was carried along by momentum, as if he wanted to finish it quickly, like a ritual to be checked off.

Nathan felt it. The tension in the muscles. The rushed air. The flickers in Lucas’s eyes.

He said nothing.

He let the body finish what it had started. When Lucas finally exhaled and his chest began to rise and fall slowly, Nathan was still looking at him. He waited for his eyes, that warm look that usually calmed him.

Lucas only sent him a half smile.

There was no malice in it.

But there was no depth either.

In the bathroom the warm water ran slowly down their backs. The tiles began to mist, steam wrapped around the space. Nathan hugged Lucas from behind, pressed his chest to his shoulder blades and rested his chin on his shoulder.

He breathed in the faint clean scent of his skin. The scent he loved.

His hand slid onto Lucas’s shoulder.

“Is everything alright” he asked softly.

Lucas paused for a heartbeat, then gave a small nod.

“Sure” he answered. “I am just tired.”

He did not turn around. He did not look him in the eye.

The water hurried on over them. Steam wrapped around them, but the closeness somehow felt colder than it should have.

⸻

Outside in the yard the air was already scorching. The sun was high, dust rose slowly with every step. The smell of boards and freshly turned soil mixed with the salty, familiar scent of sweaty skin.

They both worked shirtless. Little islands of light danced across Lucas’s shoulders when he lifted the hammer. A thin line of sweat ran down Nathan’s side, following the outline of his stomach all the way to the waistband of his trousers.

The hammers beat out a rhythm in the quiet of the yard.

“What did you plan for the stable today” Nathan asked as he held a plank in place for Lucas.

“I want to finish the roof” came the short reply.

No details. No extra sentence. None of that eager explaining from before, when he would talk at length about his plans.

Nathan drew a deep breath.

“I thought we could rest a bit this afternoon” he tried again. “Or go down to the lake if it is not too hot.”

“We will see.”

The sentence landed like a full stop. He did not argue, but he did not hold on to the thought either.

Nathan fell silent. A slow, stabbing feeling began in his chest. Not loud, not dramatic. More like a hairline crack forming somewhere inside the silence.

Then they heard the sound of hooves.

It was different from the usual noises of the farm. A fresher rhythm, a younger energy. On the dusty road a horse appeared, with a boy on its back. Not a child, but not yet a man. Somewhere in between, in that age when every movement carries a natural, easy pride.

As he came closer, his shape became clear. Sun browned skin, broad shoulders, a tight shirt that clung just enough to show the muscles working underneath. His hair fell messily over his forehead, as if wind and sun were his permanent companions.

Nathan wiped his brow, put the hammer aside and smiled.

Lucas however suddenly looked as if someone had turned up the brightness inside him. His gaze sharpened. He shifted so that his chest stood out more, his shoulders spread a little wider.

The boy slid down from the saddle. The movement was light and practiced, his body knew the horse’s every shift.

“I am Sam” he said, stepping toward them. “From the neighboring farm. I thought it would be right to come and introduce myself.”

Nathan offered his hand and greeted him with a warm, friendly grip. He felt the youth in his palm, that raw strength that has not yet learned to hide itself.

Lucas’s hand stayed on Sam’s a shade longer than it should have. His gaze ran along his arm, his shoulder, the line of his jaw. Not in embarrassment, not in apology. Rather with curiosity. With hunger.

Nathan followed that look with his own.

It was as if someone had taken hold of his chest from the inside and squeezed, firmly but quietly.

Sam glanced around, smiling.

“You have a beautiful place” he said. “If you feel like it, you could come over for dinner tonight. I cannot promise anything fancy, just a simple meal on the veranda, but we could get to know each other better.”

“That sounds nice” Nathan answered automatically. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“We would be glad to come” Lucas cut in a fraction too quickly.

Sam chatted with them a little about the animals and the area, then swung back into the saddle. The horse’s hooves kicked up dust, his figure moved away, sunlight drawing bright lines across his back.

When he was only a small dot in front of the hills, Nathan spoke quietly.

“You should not have looked at him like that.”

Lucas turned to him. There was a tired irritation in his eyes.

“I promised to be faithful, not blind” he said.

The sentence cut sharply into Nathan’s chest. He did not shout. He did not answer back. He only swallowed the words that rose to his tongue.

He did not want to ruin the day.

But inside, another hairline crack formed.

⸻

In the evening, on Sam’s farm, the air felt warmer than at theirs. The veranda was wrapped in light, the smell of wood from the railing mixed with the spicy aroma of vegetables and meat on the grill. Three place settings awaited them, simple yet carefully arranged.

Sam lived alone. That quickly became clear from the conversation. There was pride in his voice when he talked about running the farm by himself, about dealing with bills and work and loneliness.

Nathan watched Lucas’s face as the boy spoke. He saw his eyes become even more alive. Saw him lean forward, ask questions, show interest. In the way he lately did less and less often with him.

The wine warmed his throat and then slowly his head. Nathan’s glass refilled too often, but he let it happen. The blur felt good, softening the grip that sat in his chest.

Sam’s stories were light, sometimes bitter, yet full of young resilience. Lucas’s laughter rang more freely at them than at any moment in the past days.

Nathan smiled slowly. Not with malice. Rather with sadness.

“How easy it is for you with him” he thought. “You do not carry his past, you do not know his scars. You only see his light.”

When the wine had gone too deep, Sam turned to him.

“I think you should rest a bit” he said kindly. “This wine is strong for the evening.”

“Probably” Nathan laughed. “I feel it. We have to get back somehow tomorrow anyway.”

Lucas stood.

“We will show you the guest room” Sam offered.

Nathan let the two men support him on either side. As their arms touched his waist for a moment he relaxed. They were still with him. They still walked with him down the hallway.

The guest room was small but clean. The bed was made with fresh, tightly pulled sheets, an old lamp cast a soft light on the dresser.

“Thank you” Nathan mumbled as he dropped onto the mattress. The room gently swayed around him.

He felt them set him down. Felt someone’s hand resting on his shoulder for a moment longer. He did not know if it was Sam’s or Lucas’s.

Then darkness slowly covered him.

Before he sank fully into sleep, he heard the soft click of the door closing. The muffled sounds of the hallway. Two deeper male voices blending in speech.

Then nothing.

⸻

Out on the veranda the evening was deeper. The stars glimmered faintly above the distant city lights, and the warm yellow circle of the lamp reached only to the edge of the railing.

The wine bottle was almost empty. A thin shining line marked the rims of the glasses.

Lucas and Sam sat facing each other. For a while Nathan’s absence vibrated between them, then slowly sank into their silence.

“You are very lucky” Sam said suddenly. “You can see how much he loves you.”

A faint, uncertain smile appeared on Lucas’s lips.

“Yes” he answered. “The question is whether I deserve it.”

Sam turned the rim of his glass between his fingers.

“You do not seem like a bad man” he said. “Just tired. As if you were carrying too much.”

“You have no idea how true that is” Lucas replied quietly.

The silence changed. No longer awkward. Only heavier.

Sam stood and stepped out to the railing. The boards creaked softly under his feet. In the dark his body was only a silhouette outlined by the lamp: broad shoulders, narrow hips, loose, easy posture.

“Sometimes I envy people like him” he said. “The ones who so clearly love from the heart. I am more afraid that I will be the one who runs out first, before the person I cling to.”

Lucas stood and moved beside him.

For a moment they stood side by side, looking out over the dark yard. A dog barked in the distance, the air barely moved, still hot around them.

Sam turned his head and looked at him. His eyes were darker in the night than in daylight. A tiny fleck of light sat in his pupils, and in it Lucas saw his own shape reflected.

“Are you afraid” Sam asked softly.

Lucas let out a short laugh. Not a cheerful one. More bitter.

“I am afraid that I cannot be good enough for the person who stands by me” he said. “That one day he will realise how many fractures I carry and walk away.”

Sam slowly, carefully lifted his hand and laid it on Lucas’s chest. He did not push or grab. His palm simply rested there.

“The question is not how flawless you are” he said. “The question is whether you dare to show someone the truth about yourself.”

The warmth of his hand spread across Lucas’s skin. Underneath his chest his heart skipped a beat.

He slowly turned toward Sam.

From afar came the faint hum of a car, then it faded. Inside the house all was quiet, Nathan’s deep alcohol heavy sleep undisturbed.

At the edge of the veranda two men breathed in front of each other.

Lucas’s gaze moved across Sam’s face. The small uncertainty at the corner of his mouth. The thin tendon along his neck. The glint of light above his collarbone.

Sam did not look away.

The first kiss was slow. Careful. Testing. And yet sure.

Lucas’s lips touched Sam’s, and in that moment it was as if someone had cut a rope inside him that had been holding him back.

Sam’s hand slid higher on his chest, fingers clutching lightly at his shoulder. His other hand found Lucas’s waist and drew him closer. The kiss deepened, the air between them heated.

For a brief moment Lucas’s thoughts tried to resist. Nathan’s face flashed in his mind. His eyes when he looked at him. His voice when he said he trusted him.

His mind still knew the truth.

His body had made its choice long before.

Sam’s shirt slipped to the boards of the veranda. The light fell across his skin and the shadows on his chest. Lucas’s hand stroked along his collarbone, his shoulder, down to his waist. Sam’s fingers searched the buttons of Lucas’s shirt and the fabric gave way slowly.

They did not speak. They said nothing. Only their heavy breathing filled the quiet, the soft creak of wood as backs pressed against it while they moved closer.

In one of the darker corners of the veranda, just outside the circle of warm light, two men’s bodies met. Hands moved across skin, lips touched neck and shoulder and chest. Desire slowly, steadily took control.

Inside, Nathan lay motionless in sleep. In his dreams there was no jealousy, no suspicion. Only the heavy rest of a tired body.

Outside, in the quiet of the night, Lucas crossed a line that he knew he could never pretend had never existed.

⸻

In the morning the light in Nathan’s head was too bright. The room spun dully around him when he opened his eyes. His mouth was dry, his stomach heavy.

For a second he did not know where he was. Strange cracks spread across the ceiling, the smell of the bed was different from their own. The air carried a mix of unfamiliar spice and detergent.

Then the memories drifted back.

Sam’s smile. The dinner. The wine. The hallway. The guest room.

“Lucas” he called softly.

Silence replied.

He sat up and his head protested. He braced himself with his hand on the mattress and looked around. No one.

On the doorframe a faint smear of a handprint in the dust, as if someone had grabbed it in the middle of the night.

Nathan stood, carefully, and stepped barefoot into the hallway. Muffled sounds echoed in the house. Someone was already up, dishes clinked, water ran.

As he neared the veranda the smell of coffee reached him.

Lucas sat at the table. His hair was messy, his shirt crumpled, as if he had spent part of the night in it instead of in bed. His gaze froze for a moment when he saw Nathan in the doorway.

Sam stood at the counter, holding the coffee pot. When he turned, his eyes rested on Lucas’s face for a fraction of a second.

Something passed between them.

So quickly that they might not even have noticed.

But Nathan did.

He had no proof. He had seen nothing. He had heard nothing.

He simply felt that fine, tense vibration that remains between two people when something has happened that they have not spoken aloud.

“Good morning” Sam smiled. “How are you feeling”

“Like I was run over by a tractor” Nathan answered, trying to smile back. “But I am alive.”

Lucas stood.

“I made coffee for you” he said. “I put it on the table.”

Nathan looked at him. His eyes caught Lucas’s for a heartbeat, then Lucas quickly turned away. As if he were afraid of what he might see in them in that instant.

They sat down. The conversation was polite. Sam joked that he had opened wine that was too strong, Nathan replied that next time they would dilute it with water. Lucas said little.

When they said goodbye, Sam shook Nathan’s hand tightly and warmly.

“I am glad I met you” he said. “You are welcome any time.”

Nathan nodded.

Then he turned to Lucas. Their eyes met. There was an unspoken question in the look. A quiet expectation.

Lucas’s gaze flickered.

That was enough.

Something inside Nathan’s chest gave a small, definite crack.

⸻

The way home felt as if the road itself knew what weight they were carrying on it.

The sun climbed higher, the morning haze turning into thick blue heat. Dust rose lazily at their feet, puffing up with every step and slowly sinking back down.

Nathan said nothing.

Not because he had nothing to say. But because he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, too much would come out at once.

More than once Lucas acted as if he wanted to move closer. As if his hand wanted to reach for Nathan’s arm. Each time he held himself back.

As if he were no longer sure he had the right to touch him.

When at last their own stable came into view, Nathan stopped at the edge of the yard. The sunlight carved deep shadow across his face, pulling his features tighter.

“Look at me” he said quietly.

Lucas did.

His gaze was sharp and clear. Not angry, not hysterical. More like the eyes of a surgeon who knows exactly where to cut to reach the deeper layers.

“Something happened between you last night” Nathan said calmly. “Between you and Sam. Right.”

Lucas’s lips trembled.

He lowered his head. His chest rose and fell slowly. His throat tightened for a moment, as if he found it hard to swallow the truth.

“I did not want it” he said at last. “But yes. Something happened between us.”

Nathan closed his eyes for a moment.

He did not ask for details. He did not ask how far they had gone. His imagination would be more cruel than any spoken word.

“I am not stupid” he said slowly. “I felt for days that something was changing between us. Your silence. Your glances that slipped away from me. The rush this morning. I simply trusted you that if there was a problem, you would tell me.”

The word trusted fell between them like a stone into still water. Almost nothing showed on the surface, but in the depths waves began to move.

Lucas’s shoulders sagged.

“I did not want to hurt you” he said hoarsely. “It was not about you. Not because you are not enough. It is just that next to Sam everything felt easier for a moment. I did not have to show so much how afraid I am of ruining what we have.”

Nathan’s eyes filled with shining tears. He did not let them fall. They only trembled on his lashes.

“Lucas” he said. “I gave myself to you. My body. My story. My scars. Everything. And you did not take care of it.”

He stepped back.

Not in a dramatic way. Not for show. Only as far as a person steps back when he feels that if he gets even one inch closer he will not be able to think clearly.

“I do not want to be with you right now” he said softly.

The sentence did not come from anger. Not from revenge.

It came from self preservation.

Lucas’s hand moved instinctively. As if he would grab him, pull him back, stop him. Nathan pulled away.

“Please” Lucas whispered.

“No” Nathan shook his head. “Not now.”

He headed for the house. His steps were slow, as if he had to find his balance anew with every landing of his foot. Yet they were steady.

With every step his chest felt a little heavier.

Lucas remained in the yard, in the merciless light of the sun. Bare chested, in the dust, inside his own skin which suddenly felt much tighter than ever before.

The sun burned his shoulders, but something much deeper burned in his chest.

The realisation that for the first time in his life he was truly afraid of losing someone who mattered more to him than his own comfort.

⸻

The house quietly swallowed Nathan. The door did not slam, it only closed behind him slowly and tiredly.

The kitchen was dim. Morning light slanted in through the gaps in the curtain, drawing gold lines on the floor and on Nathan’s face.

He leaned on the counter with both hands, as if he were afraid that if he let go, he would collapse.

A single dense knot sat in his throat. It was not yet crying. Only that suffocating tension that sooner or later will force its way out.

“I am not enough” he whispered to himself.

This sentence had lived in him longer than Lucas. Longer than any man he had ever loved.

He had known it since childhood. From mockery. From contemptuous looks. From his first love who laughed at him. From the man who once told him he was too sensitive and that he did not want anyone like him.

Now this old sentence had a new face. Lucas’s.

When the tears finally started, Nathan wiped them away angrily. He did not want to cry over him. He did not want to cry over anyone.

Then another came. And another.

A person cannot always go against his own heart.

The floor received the first tear with a soft little tap. Then the second.

⸻

Lucas was still standing at the door. His hand hovered above the handle but did not touch it. His heart beat as if his ribs were trying to keep it from bursting out.

At last he raised his hand and knocked softly.

“Nathan” he called quietly. “I am here.”

Inside Nathan closed his eyes. His chest tightened painfully at the sound.

He longed for it. And he hated it for that very reason.

He walked to the door. Only a thin sheet of wood separated them. He placed his palm flat against it. He felt that on the other side Lucas was doing the same.

The wood grew warmer under his hand.

“I cannot talk right now” Nathan said. “I am not angry. It just hurts. A lot.”

His voice trembled, but did not break.

Lucas closed his eyes. He rested his forehead against the door, as if he could get closer to him without breaking through the boundary.

“I am the one at fault” he said quietly. “I do not know what to say to this. Only that I do not want to lose you. And I will stay here if I have to. Close to you. Even if you do not let me in.”

Nathan did not answer. He let the words sink deeper than he intended.

In the end he only said:

“I need time.”

Lucas nodded, knowing Nathan could not see it.

He slowly sat down on the floor outside the door, his back to the wood. He pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. He did not leave. He did not escape into the yard. He did not hide in work.

He just sat there like a quiet guard who knows that what matters now cannot be defended with strength, only with presence.

⸻

The sun slid lower in the sky. The light grew warmer, long shadows climbed the walls.

Nathan sat in the corner of the bedroom, his back against the wall. His tears were dry. His head hummed, his chest throbbed dully.

He looked toward the mirror. He saw his own face. The darker smudges under his eyes. The twisted shirt. The faint tremble at the corner of his mouth.

“Why am I so afraid of becoming not enough” he asked himself softly.

Not because of Lucas.

Because of himself.

Because deep down he believed that for a man like Lucas he was only attractive as long as he was new and interesting. As long as there were not too many tears, too much past, too many wounds under the surface.

Now this fear had taken a shape. Sam’s shape. His ease. His youth.

Nathan stood slowly.

He walked to the door.

He stopped.

On the other side Lucas lifted his head, as if he had felt him approach. The air thickened between them even with the wood still there.

Nathan put his hand on the handle. For a moment he stood with his eyes closed, then pressed it down.

The door opened with a soft sound.

Lucas sat on the floor with his back to the wall. He looked tired. More fragile than Nathan had ever seen him. Yet his eyes were clear when he looked up.

“Come in” Nathan said.

Lucas stood slowly and stepped into the room. He did not move too close. He stopped a few steps away, as if he no longer dared to go as near as he once had without thinking.

“I am not angry” Nathan said quietly. “But I am very afraid. Not of you. Of not being enough for you.”

Pain filled Lucas’s eyes. Not the self pitying kind. The kind that hits a man when he realises he has been hurting someone far longer than he was willing to admit to himself.

“Nathan” he said, his voice low and rough. “You are the first person in my life I am afraid to look at in the wrong way. You have no idea how much you mean.”

Nathan lowered his head. Something moved inside his chest. Not the pain. The other thing. That stubborn, slowly building something he still did not dare to name.

“Sit beside me” he said.

They sat on the edge of the bed, side by side. A hand’s breadth of space lay between them. This small distance sometimes felt larger than an ocean.

Lucas reached out carefully and slowly. He lifted his hand toward Nathan but did not touch him. He brought it close enough that Nathan could feel the warmth radiating from his palm.

Nathan looked at him. For a long time. Studying. With the gaze of someone who is not only looking at the man but at everything he has hidden.

“I am afraid” he finally said. “Afraid that one day I will run out for you. That you will see someone else and think he is easier. Happier. Carrying fewer wounds.”

Lucas slowly took his hand. He did not pull him toward himself. He did not drag him closer. He simply closed his fingers around his.

A warmth started between their joined palms that burned and healed at the same time.

“You are the last person I would ever walk away from” Lucas said. “You are not too little. You are not something that can run out. You are the only one who scares me and calms me at the same time.”

A tear finally found its way down Nathan’s face.

Lucas wiped it away gently with his thumb.

“I am not afraid because I do not love you” Nathan said. “I am afraid because there is finally someone I do not want to lose.”

Lucas moved closer. Not suddenly. Not demandingly. More like a man taking careful, small steps to find his old place beside someone.

He rested his forehead lightly against Nathan’s. That touch felt closer than any earlier kiss.

“I am here” he whispered. “And I want to stay.”

Nathan closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Then stay” he said. “But let us not lie anymore. Not to each other and not to ourselves.”

The silence of the room was no longer empty. It was filled with warmth. With slowly dissolving tension. With the faint outline of a promise that had not yet been spoken aloud.

Lucas’s arms wrapped around Nathan. He drew him to his chest and Nathan melted into him. He did not want to run. He wanted to remain.

Night slowly descended on them.

They did not make love.

They only held each other. Until Nathan’s breathing grew heavy, his body relaxed and he slipped over the edge into sleep.

Lucas stayed awake for a long time.

He watched his face. The tiny twitches beneath his eyelids. The small calm forming at the corner of his mouth.

He placed his fingers on his chest and felt the rhythm.

Somewhere in that core of silence, where there was no wine, no Sam, no accusation or defense, his own truth finally caught up with him.

Softly, meant only for the dark and for the heart beating beneath his hand, he said:

“I fell in love with you.”

Nathan did not hear.

But the words remained between them. Like an invisible seal that cannot be taken back.

Outside, the first stars slowly appeared at the edge of the sky.

Inside, two men breathed side by side.

The crack was still there.

But it no longer yawned like a chasm. It was more like a place where light had a chance to break through them differently than before.

And this night did not promise that everything would be easy from now on.

Only this. That neither of them would run away from his own feelings again.