The city was silent, but Lucas's mind was anything but. He lay sprawled across his bed, sheets twisted around his legs, sweat cooling on his skin. The night pressed in, thick and suffocating, and he knew sleep would not come easy.
He closed his eyes anyway. Slowly he drifted away.
Daniel & Lucas — Past
The memory always started with laughter.
He's back in that old apartment with Daniel, the one with the crooked windows and the leaky faucet. The air smells like fresh coffee and paint thinner—Daniel's art supplies everywhere, canvases leaning against the walls. Lucas stands in the kitchen, watching Daniel work, sunlight filtering through dust motes.
Lucas remembered the way Daniel used to laugh—head thrown back, eyes crinkling, the sound echoing off the kitchen tiles of their first apartment.
Daniel turns, smiling, and for a moment Lucas feels weightless, young, untouched by the years of regret that will follow. Daniel's hands are on his waist, warm and certain. They kiss, slow and deep, a memory so vivid it aches.
Daniel's hands, always paint-stained, would reach for him, tugging him close, fingers slipping under his shirt as if Lucas was something precious and breakable.
Tonight, in the memory, Daniel was painting. Lucas watched from the doorway, tie loosened, exhaustion melting as he took in the scene: Daniel, barefoot, a smear of blue across his cheek, humming to himself. The apartment smelled of turpentine, coffee, and rain drifting through an open window.
"You're staring," Daniel teased, glancing over his shoulder.
Lucas smirked, stepping into the room. "Can you blame me?"
Daniel set his brush down, cocked an eyebrow. "You look like hell."
Lucas shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. "Rough day."
Daniel crossed the space in three strides, crowding Lucas against
the wall. His hands slid up Lucas's chest, undoing buttons with slow, deliberate care.
"Let me fix it," Daniel murmured, lips brushing Lucas's jaw.
Lucas's breath caught. He closed his eyes as Daniel's mouth found his, soft at first, then demanding. Daniel's thigh pressed between his legs, hips rolling, and Lucas's control slipped. He gripped Daniel's hips, pulling him closer, the heat between them building fast.
Clothes fell away, scattered like secrets.
Daniel's skin was warm, slick with sweat, muscles tensing beneath Lucas's hands. Their bodies tangled, Daniel's laughter dissolving into gasps and curses, Lucas's name a broken prayer on Daniel's lips.
Lucas remembered the way Daniel would look at him after—eyes soft, fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest.
"You're safe here," Daniel would whisper, and for a moment, Lucas believed him.
But the memory always soured. Daniel's warmth faded, replaced by cold silence, the echo of slammed doors and words Lucas could never take back.
then the scene shifts once again—the light goes cold, Daniel's smile fades. The apartment is empty, silent. Lucas calls for him, but the only answer is the echo of his own voice, hollow and desperate.
He runs through rooms that keep changing—his childhood bedroom, a sterile law office, a bar thick with smoke and regret.
Faces blur past: his father's stern frown, his mother's disappointment, the strangers he's fucked and forgotten.
He's always running, always searching, but never finding.
He wakes with a gasp, heart pounding, sheets damp with sweat.
Lucas — Present
Lucas jolted awake, heart racing, sheets twisted around his body. The room was dark, the city's glow bleeding through the curtains.
He pressed a trembling hand to his chest, trying to steady his breath.
He could still feel Daniel—his touch, his heat, the ache of loss sharp as a blade.
Lucas rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. His body was restless, skin prickling with need and regret.
He squeezed his eyes shut, letting the memory take him—Daniel's mouth, Daniel's hands, the way he'd surrender and take control in the same breath.
His own hand drifted down, fingers wrapping around himself. He stroked slowly, imagining Daniel's voice, the scrape of stubble, the way Daniel would pin his wrists and whisper filthy promises.
Lucas's hips lifted, chasing sensation, his breath coming faster.
But the memory flickered, replaced by Elena—her wild hair, her ink-stained fingers, the way she'd bite his shoulder and leave bruises he'd wear like medals.
He saw her eyes, fierce and unafraid, saw the challenge in her smirk as she straddled him, nails digging into his chest.
He groaned, pleasure and pain twisting together, the ghosts of past and present colliding. He came hard, shuddering, Daniel's name tangled with Elena's on his lips.
For a moment, he lay there, spent and hollow, the ache in his chest both soothed and sharpened.
To be continued…