Riven dreamt in heat and in breathless scenarios. A name echoed louder than thunder.
“Kael”
It slipped from his lips like a prayer, dragging him out of sleep with a gasp. Sweat clung to his chest, hands twisted in the blanket like he’d fought something in the dark.
He sat there breathing hard, eyes adjusting to the dimness.
Just a dream, he told himself. Only a dream.
But it didn’t feel like one. Not in the way his bones trembled..And definitely not in how clearly he remembered the shape of Kael’s mouth when it said his name.
He climbed out of bed on silent feet, the wooden floor cold beneath him. His head felt fogged — not from alcohol, but from something heavier.
At the fireplace, he opened the old cabinet.
Inside was filled worn magazines, faded postcards, a box of letters that smelled like dust and loss. At the very bottom, shoved between yellowed newspapers, was a thick leather-bound photo album. Still wondering how he didn't take notice or see any of them all this while,his fingers were already moving, trembling slightly, flipping open the cover.
And then — everything went white.
*******
Seven Years Ago
The locker room reeked of sweat, Axe body spray, and lies.
Riven Vale was sixteen. A boy built from charm and secrets. The kind of boy people adored on instinct. Teachers, girls, coaches and literally almost everyone wanted him close.
But no one really knew him. Except for a boy named Kael.
Kael Quinn didn’t belong. Not in that school. He was the scholarship kid with bruised arms and duct-taped sneakers. He sat in the back of every class, spoke only when forced, and never came to parties.
But he watched Riven. And Riven watched him back.
Weeks passed like that and glances in the hallway that felt like collisions were shared. Silent tension buzzed in the air between them. Until one night, when Riven pulled Kael into a supply closet, shoved him against the shelves, and kissed him like he couldn’t breathe without it.
And that was how it started.
Late-night rendezvous in the theater wings. Hands sliding under desks. Kael sneaking through Riven’s bedroom window like a secret too sharp to name. Riven pinning him to walls and doorframes and silence. It was messy, hidden, and breathless.
It was everything.But Riven never told a soul.
Not even when Kael whispered, “You make me feel like I matter “
Because Riven was scared.
Scared of being seen. Scared of what it would cost him. Scared of loving a boy when the world expected him to be perfect and straight.
So by day, he avoided Kael. Pretended not to see him in the halls. And when the rumors started — quiet jabs, ugly jokes, whispers about the “faggot behind the bleachers” — Riven did the one thing Kael didn’t expect.
He laughed out loud with them, and Kael heard it.
That particular night, Kael showed up at a party, red-eyed and shaking, tried to pull Riven aside.
But Riven pulled away. Public. Harsh. Made a joke cruel enough that the laughter stuck in people’s memories.
Kael left with pain that night. No one saw him again for months and then years...
********
Riven was still sitting on the cabin floor, the photo album open in his lap. The dream clung to him like fog, thick and slow, when the fire popped behind him and snapped him back.
He turned pages so fast with nervous fingers.. Reaching midway, He immediately froze.
A photo.
High school gym.
A banner stretched over the bleachers: Harbor’s Edge High — Winter Spirit Rally 2015.
A blur of sweaty teenage boys in half-shirts and streaked face paint. But one figure stood out instantly.
Him.
Younger, tousled black hair, a dimpled grin, a silver thumb ring. He looked so alive it almost hurt to look at. And somehow, beside him was Kael, who was not yet the man he’d become. Thinner, Sharper and bruised in the corners. But the eyes were the same. Piercing and unforgiving.
They were shoulder to shoulder, laughing at something just out of frame. Riven’s hand rested casually on Kael’s knee.
His stomach turned.
“No…” he whispered, he carefully flipped the page.
Another photo of them..This one taken in secret under the bleachers.
Kael’s mouth pressed to Riven’s throat. Riven’s eyes closed. His body angled toward Kael like he was gravity.
A Polaroid pohot.. faded with time. In the corner, scrawled in ink: 10/18/15.
Riven’s hands trembled. His entire body began to shake.
He hadn’t just stumbled into Kael’s orbit nor run
into a strange town.
He had lived here,breath here..
And somehow , he had forgotten it all.
“Roman? Harlow? What the hell are you doing here?” Riven’s voice echoed off the pine-paneled walls, sharp with surprise.Roman stepped forward, his tone steady but urgent. “We got the burner alert about the fire. First flight out. We drove straight from the airport.”Harlow didn’t bother with a greeting. “This wasn’t some accident. You know that. So do we.” Her hood dropped back, revealing her platinum bob as she scanned the room like she expected something hidden in the walls.Kael turned from his workbench and cleared his throat. “Am I supposed to know what’s going on?”“I’m Kael Quinn.” He extended a hand to Roman.Roman met it with a firm grip. “Roman Vale. Riven’s brother.”Kael gave a brief nod, then looked to Harlow.“She’s my manager,” Riven said quietly.Kael studied her. “You’re the one who keeps him alive, huh?”“Most days,” Harlow replied, her voice dry but not unfriendly.“They’re here because this fire wasn’t random,” Riven added. “Someone set it.”Kael’s expression hard
The day was too bright for how wrecked Riven felt inside. His skin buzzed with the weight of last night’s dream, the photo album still burned behind his eyes, and Kael’s name clung to the back of his throat like smoke he couldn’t cough out.He wasn’t ready to confront him..not yet,but the universe didn’t wait for readiness.Because there he was. Kael was standing outside the bar just off Main, laughing with someone.Riven stood still on the sidewalk, breath catching like he’d been slapped. The man next to Kael was tall, tan, and tattooed, with a cocky smile and a backwards hat. He leaned into Kael too easily, touched his shoulder like it meant something. And Kael didn’t pull away.Jealousy wasn’t something Riven liked admitting to. But it bloomed inside him anyway, slow and sour like poison spreading in his chest.He tightened his grip on the envelope in his hands — the one holding all the photos and old evidence he’d found.Before he could take a step, a hand tapped his shoulder fro
Riven dreamt in heat and in breathless scenarios. A name echoed louder than thunder.“Kael”It slipped from his lips like a prayer, dragging him out of sleep with a gasp. Sweat clung to his chest, hands twisted in the blanket like he’d fought something in the dark.He sat there breathing hard, eyes adjusting to the dimness.Just a dream, he told himself. Only a dream.But it didn’t feel like one. Not in the way his bones trembled..And definitely not in how clearly he remembered the shape of Kael’s mouth when it said his name.He climbed out of bed on silent feet, the wooden floor cold beneath him. His head felt fogged — not from alcohol, but from something heavier.At the fireplace, he opened the old cabinet.Inside was filled worn magazines, faded postcards, a box of letters that smelled like dust and loss. At the very bottom, shoved between yellowed newspapers, was a thick leather-bound photo album. Still wondering how he didn't take notice or see any of them all this while,his fing
The sky cracked open before Riven could hurry out to go get groceries.Rain fell like punishment — harsh and unrelenting, loud enough to drown out thought.The truck's light blinked twice and died, and darkness swallowed everything except the sound.He stood by the window, coffee cooling in his hand, watching headlights bob through the trees. The light cut a jagged path through the fog until it hit the clearing. A truck,old and familiar. Kael’s.The engine sputtered, died, then turned over again and failed completely. The door opened and Kael climbed out, soaked from hair to boots, moving fast through the storm like he hadn’t meant to stop . Like something had pulled him off course and dropped him here anyway.Riven cracked the door open and shouted over the rain.“Truck dead?”Kael didn’t look up. “Yeah.”“Well,” Riven called, shrugging, “guess you’re stuck here.”Kael finally turned. His hair clung to sharp cheekbones, shirt plastered to every muscle, rain rolling off him in sheets.
The cabin was too quiet but not peaceful — just the kind of quiet that curled under your skin and made your neck itch.The coffee in Riven's hand was bitter and watery, but it was hot. That was enough. He sat on the porch step, hoodie tugged low over his eyes, staring into the thick fog as it slid between the trees like it was alive.It had only been two nights, but already the place felt less like a hideout and more like a slow, sprawling trap. His phone had two bars, barely. Still, when it rang, he answered before the second buzz.Harlow.“Took you long enough.”Her voice cut sharp. “Took you long enough to almost ruin your life.”“I thought we were past that.”“We’re not past anything, Riven. Your dick is still trending.”He leaned back against the wooden post, lips tugging into a smirk. “So it’s true what they say. Bad press is still press.”“This isn’t press. It’s war.”She wasn’t joking. Not really. Her voice cracked just enough at the edges to let the truth bleed out.“I’m in
The champagne was still fizzing in Riven’s veins when he slid his keycard into the hotel door, lips still slick with someone else's gloss from the lounge downstairs. He didn’t know whose. He didn’t care.The party had been chaos dressed in couture, a networking retreat in name only. Really it was Hollywood at its worst—messy, indulgent, insatiable. He danced until his knees ached, flirted with anything in a suit, smiled until his jaw burned.Now, back in the hush of his suite, he kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the bed without even bothering with the lights. His phone buzzed once beside him, a soft vibration against the dark. Confirmation of the order.Not food,not room service.A hookup.He didn’t usually do this. But tonight wasn't usual. Tonight was about forgetting.Then came the knock.He rose slowly, shirt open, belt half undone. opened the door and froze upon seeing a tall and built blonde. Eyes wild under the hallway light. The man’s lips parted like he wanted to speak