Lucas (Present)
For a moment, he just breathes, staring at the ceiling. The ache in his chest is familiar—an old wound, reopened nightly. He reaches for his phone, checks the time: 3:14 AM. Too late for sleep, too early for anything else.
He throws off the covers and pads to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. In the mirror, he sees the new tattoo on his forearm—a labyrinth, ink still fresh. He traces it with a trembling finger, remembering Elena's words: "A map of where you've been—and where you might go."
His body is restless, skin humming with leftover adrenaline. He leans against the counter, eyes drifting shut.
A memory flickers—Daniel's mouth on his neck, hands exploring, the way Daniel would take his time, savoring every inch.
Lucas's hand drifts lower, seeking relief. He strokes himself, slow at first, letting the memories wash over him. Daniel's voice, low and teasing. The rough scrape of Daniel's stubble against his thigh. The way Daniel would look up at him, eyes dark with want.
Lucas bites his lip, pressure building, the ache turning sweet. He imagines Elena now—her hands, her mouth, the way she'd take control, pin him with her gaze.
The collision of past and present, Daniel's tenderness and Elena's fire, pushes him closer to the edge.
He comes with a shudder, muffling his moan against his arm, the release sharp and bittersweet.
After, he slumps against the sink, breath ragged. The emptiness returns, but softer now, edged with longing instead of despair.
Daniel (Flashback: End)
Daniel's voice had been quiet, but the words cut deep.
"I can't keep loving someone who won't let me in, Lucas. You're always somewhere else. With your work, your walls, your secrets."
Lucas remembered the fight, the way he'd lashed out—cold, cruel, desperate to push Daniel away before he could be left. He'd said things he didn't mean, words that hung in the air like smoke.
Daniel had packed a single bag, pausing at the door.
"I hope you find what you're looking for," he'd said.
Lucas never answered. He'd just watched Daniel disappear, too proud—or too scared—to call him back.
After Daniel, Lucas had thrown himself into work, into strangers, into anything that would numb the ache. He'd become the man he never wanted to be: closed off, untouchable, haunted.
Elena
Elena woke to the sound of her phone buzzing. She squinted at the screen—Lucas, a missed call at 3:30 AM. She sighed, rolling onto her back, staring at the ceiling.
She knew what haunted him. She saw it in the way he looked at her sometimes, desperate for connection but terrified of being seen.
She typed a quick message:
You okay?
No answer, but she didn't expect one. Not yet.
She closed her eyes, remembering the way his body had trembled beneath her hands, the way he'd surrendered, just for a moment.
She wanted more than his pain—she wanted his trust, his hope, the part of him that still believed in something real.
But she knew better than to rush him. Healing wasn't linear. Desire wasn't a cure. And two broken people simply cannot mend each other.
Lucas
He climbed back into bed, the sheets cool against his skin. He checked his phone—Elena's message glowed on the screen.
You okay?
He stared at it for a long time, thumb hovering over the keys.
I had a nightmare. About Daniel. About everything. I miss him. I miss who I was.
He hit send before he could change his mind.
A minute later, her reply came:
Come over. Or let me come to you. No masks tonight.
Lucas hesitated, then typed:
Come.
Elena
She arrived twenty minutes later, hair wild, eyes fierce. She didn't say anything—just crossed the room, climbed into bed beside him, and pulled him close.
Their bodies tangled, heat building fast. Elena's hands were everywhere—gentle, then demanding, coaxing him out of his head and into the present. Lucas let go, surrendering to her touch, her mouth, the way she whispered his name like a promise.
He lost himself in her, in the friction and fire, in the messy, beautiful reality of being wanted, being seen.
After, they lay together in the dark, breath mingling, hearts pounding.
Lucas pressed his face into her hair and whispered, "Don't let me go."
Elena kissed his shoulder, her fingers tracing the labyrinth on his arm.
"I won't," she said. "But you have to meet me halfway."
Lucas closed his eyes, hope flickering in the darkness.