The hotel was supposed to be a sanctuary. But the moment Ethan and Nathan stepped back into the public eye, it became a glass cage.Cameras lined the streets. Protesters and supporters alike had taken over the sidewalks. Some waved rainbow flags, others raised Bibles and signs that read "Shame" and "Abomination." The air was thick with tension, an old war reigniting in a new age.Nathan's grip on Ethan’s hand didn’t falter. Not once. They walked into the press conference like soldiers returning from a long, bloody campaign. The hotel ballroom was packed with journalists, activists, and political opportunists. Some faces were familiar, others wolf-like, hungry for something they could twist.Ethan’s heart pounded. He looked at Nathan beside him, the stoic protector who once lived behind shadows and crime. Now exposed. Vulnerable. But still unyielding.They sat. The cameras flashed.Ethan leaned into the mic. “My name is Ethan Blackwood. I’m twenty-one years old. I’m gay. I’m in love wi
The morning light bled slowly through the gauzy curtains, and Ethan found himself wide awake long before the alarm clock blinked 6:00 AM. He hadn’t really slept, not with the ache in his chest that still whispered of everything they’d lost and everything they’d barely survived.Nathan’s arm was draped around him loosely, protective even in sleep. His breath, warm and steady against Ethan’s shoulder, was a grounding rhythm in the chaos of Ethan’s thoughts.But today was different. Today was the memorial.They hadn’t held it earlier. Not when the media circus had devoured every corner of their lives. Not when the hospital visits had consumed them. And not when Ethan’s mental health had been so fragile, even thinking about closure had felt like trying to swim through glass.But now... now, they are ready.Sort of.Ethan untangled himself from Nathan carefully, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before slipping out of bed. He stood in front of the mirror, staring at the boy who had once hi
The Hearth – Two Days LaterThe silence in the room was too thick to ignore.Ethan sat at the long wooden table, hands clenched around a cup of untouched coffee. Across from him, Nathan paced like a caged animal. Isabelle, eyes sharp with worry, watched them both from the corner, her phone gripped tightly.The letter from Elijah lay between them like a loaded weapon.“What does he have on you, Nathan?” Isabelle finally asked, breaking the silence. “Whatever this file is, it’s got you acting like we’re already doomed.”Nathan exhaled, running both hands over his face.“It’s from before Ethan,” he said quietly. “Years ago. After my father died and I took over the company, I made some deals I shouldn’t have. With people I shouldn’t have trusted. To keep things afloat. To clean up the mess my father left behind.”Ethan’s voice cracked. “Illegal deals?”Nathan nodded. “Not just illegal. Dangerous. Dirty contracts. Off-record payments. A few tied to violence nothing proven, but enough to de
The rain came in soft drizzles that morning, tracing silver rivulets down the glass walls of the hospital atrium where Isabelle sat, fingers trembling around a lukewarm paper cup of coffee. The silence around her was too clean, too sterile, broken only by the occasional intercom call and distant rolling of gurney wheels. She hated hospitals. The last time she was in one, her mother had died. Now, she sat again in another antiseptic hall, this time for a different kind of reckoning.Sarah hadn't spoken to her since the interview.Lucas had moved back to Texas.And Vanessa who had once clung to her with broken sobs had cut her off completely.Isabelle had never known this kind of silence before.She took a breath, steadying her hands as she pulled out her phone. The screen glowed with a message from Ethan. A simple one: "If you're ready, come. You deserve your own ending, too."She stared at it for a long time.Ethan had every right to hate her. They all did. Her silence, her cowardice
The Hearth looked smaller than Ethan remembered.Five years had passed since he and Nathan had last stepped through the wide front doors not for a visit, not for a tour, but simply… to return. Not as leaders. Not as guardians.But as guests.Autumn leaves scattered across the porch, the same creaky step still groaning in protest beneath their shoes. The wind carried the scent of lavender, paint, and something sweet from the kitchen, maybe cinnamon bread.And yet, beneath it all…The house breathed the same way it always had.Alive. Listening.Inside, voices echoed through the walls.Laughter. Music. A slam of a cabinet. A playful shout.Then footsteps.Evan appeared in the hallway, taller, sharper around the edges, but with the same steady light in his eyes. His hoodie was too big, sleeves fraying at the cuffs, clipboard tucked beneath one arm.“Hey,” he said, trying not to smile too hard. “You’re late.”Nathan chuckled. “Traffic. And sentimentality.”Evan rolled his eyes, but his voi
It started with rain.Not the soft kind.The flood-the-garden, tear-the-branches-down kind.Nathan was the first to notice the leak just past midnight, water trailing down the hallway wall like tears.Ethan ran for buckets.Vanessa grabbed towels.And Evan?He stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, watching the ceiling swell.By morning, the leak had turned into a minor cave-in in the guest bathroom.No one was hurt. But the damage was obvious.The city inspector arrived with a clipboard and a polite but firm frown.“I’m afraid if the repairs aren’t addressed in sixty days, the house could be deemed structurally unfit for occupancy.”Nathan barely blinked.Ethan stood straighter.Vanessa folded her arms. “You tried to shut us down before. Didn’t work then either.”The man didn’t argue. Just handed over a checklist.That afternoon, Ethan gathered at the house.Kitchen table. Big energy.“The roof’s failing. The city’s watching. But we’ve survived worse.”He looked around