no more running

Ethan didn't call Marcus back.

He didn't call anyone.

He went home, stripped off his wet clothes, and sat in the dark living room staring at nothing until the sun came up.

His phone lit up periodically through the night. Lucas checking in. A missed call from his mother, probably hearing the news through the grapevine. Three texts from Marcus, each one more insistent than the last.

Nothing from Kai.

By morning, Ethan felt hollowed out. Empty. Like he'd been running on adrenaline and fear for weeks and his body had finally given up.

He made coffee he didn't drink. Opened his laptop to search for jobs he couldn't take. Stared at his bank account balance until the numbers blurred together.

Three months of savings left. Maybe four if he was careful.

The logical choice was obvious. Call Marcus. Apologize. Find a way back.

His finger hovered over the contact.

Then he thought about Kai's face last night. The way he'd looked at Ethan like he was watching something break in real time.

*You're looking for an excuse to run.*

Was he?

Ethan closed his eyes, tried to remember who he'd been a month ago. Successful. Controlled. Respected. Lonely.

So fucking lonely.

His phone rang. Not Marcus this time.

Diana Torres.

He almost didn't answer. But something made him pick up.

"I heard what happened," she said without preamble. "The non-compete. The lawsuit threat. You want to tell me what you're planning to do?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit. You know exactly what you want to do. You're just scared to do it."

Ethan laughed bitterly. "You don't know me."

"No. But I know Kai. And I know he came home last night looking like someone had torn his heart out." Diana's voice was hard. "So I'm calling to give you one chance to fix this before I show up at your apartment and make your life significantly worse."

"He ended it. He walked away."

"Because you asked for space right after telling him your relationship ruined your life. What did you expect?"

The words hit too close.

"I was panicking," Ethan said quietly.

"Yeah, well, panic less. Fix more." Diana paused. "You love him?"

"Yes."

"Then prove it. Because right now, all you've proven is that when things get hard, you blame him and run."

"I didn't run."

"You're about to. I can hear it in your voice. You're trying to convince yourself that going back to your old life is the smart choice, the logical choice. That Kai will understand, will forgive you for choosing safety over him."

"That's not—"

"He won't. He'll smile and say it's fine and he gets it. And then he'll spend the next two years putting himself back together. Again." Diana's voice cracked slightly. "I watched him barely survive it the first time. I won't watch it happen again."

Ethan's chest tightened. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to stop thinking about what you're losing and start thinking about what you're gaining. I want you to remember why you tore up that contract in the first place." She exhaled. "And I want you to fight for him the way he's been fighting for you."

"How?"

"Figure it out. You're the one with the fancy degree."

She hung up.

Ethan sat there, phone in hand, Diana's words echoing.

Fight for him

But how did you fight when every door was closing? When the choice wasn't between love and career but between love and survival?

His laptop was still open to job search sites. He closed them. Opened a different window instead.

Started typing.

By noon, he had a plan. Insane, probably impossible, but a plan.

He grabbed his keys.

The coffee shop was quiet, lunch rush not yet started. Lucas sat in their usual corner, looking surprised when Ethan appeared.

"You look like hell," Lucas said.

"Feel worse." Ethan slid into the booth. "I need your help."

"With?"

"The non-compete. Is there any way to challenge it?"

Lucas frowned. "Ethan, we talked about this. Fighting it means lawyers, money, time you don't have—"

"That's not what I asked. Is there a way?"

Lucas studied him for a long moment. "Maybe. If you could prove the clause is overly restrictive or that the firm is using it in bad faith to punish you rather than protect legitimate business interests."

"How would I prove that?"

"You'd need evidence that they're threatening the lawsuit to silence you, not because you're actually violating the spirit of the non-compete. Emails, memos, anything showing their real motivation." Lucas leaned forward. "Why? You thinking of fighting?"

"I'm thinking of not letting them destroy my life because I fell in love with the wrong person."

Something shifted in Lucas's expression. "The wrong person? Or the right person at the wrong time?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah. It does. Because if you really believe Kai was a mistake, walk away now. Save yourself the pain." Lucas paused. "But if you think he's the right person, then fucking fight for him."

"How? I have no money, no job, no prospects—"

"You have skills. Connections. A brain that got you through law school at the top of your class." Lucas pulled out his phone, started scrolling.

"And you have me. And people like Richard Chen who believe in what you could do. And a story that, if told right, could actually matter."

"What are you talking about?"

Lucas turned his phone around. A blog post, trending on legal forums: Corporate Law Firm Uses Non-Compete to Punish Employee for Same-Sex Relationship

"Someone leaked it," Lucas said. "About an hour ago. The story's spreading. People are pissed."

Ethan's hands went cold. "Who would—"

"Does it matter? The point is, you're not alone in this anymore. The firm threatening to sue you for taking a discrimination law job right after firing you for being gay? That's not a good look for them."

"I wasn't fired for being gay. They'd never admit that."

"No. But they don't have to. The optics are enough." Lucas leaned back. "You want my advice? Call Richard Chen. Tell him you're willing to fight the non-compete. Then call a press contact I have and tell your story."

"That would destroy any chance of going back to corporate law."

"Good. Because corporate law already destroyed you." Lucas's voice softened. "You're different now, Ethan. Lighter. Like you've been holding your breath for years and finally exhaled. Don't go back to suffocating just because it feels safer."

Ethan stared at his friend. "When did you get wise?"

"I've always been wise. You were just too busy being careful to notice."

They sat there for a moment, the weight of the decision settling.

"If I do this," Ethan said slowly, "if I fight them publicly, burn that bridge completely... I need to know Kai's still on the other side."

"Then go find out."

Ethan stood. "Lucas?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Lucas smiled. "That's what friends are for. Now go. And maybe shower first. You really do look terrible."

The photography studio was closed when Ethan arrived, lights off, door locked.

He tried Kai's apartment next. Knocked. Waited.

Nothing.

He was about to leave when the door across the hall opened. An elderly woman peered out.

"He's not there," she said. "Left early this morning with a bag. Looked upset."

Ethan's stomach dropped. "Did he say where he was going?"

"Didn't ask. But he does that sometimes. Goes away to think when life gets hard." She studied Ethan. "You're the boyfriend?"

"I... yeah. Maybe. I don't know."

She shook her head. "Men. You should know by now. Either you are or you aren't. There's no maybe when it comes to loving someone."

The door closed.

Ethan stood in the hallway, phone in hand, trying to think. Where would Kai go?

He tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

Texted: We need to talk. Please.

No response.

He was about to give up when his phone buzzed. Not Kai.

Diana: He's at the cabin. Two hours north. I'm texting you the address because I'm an idiot who believes in second chances. Don't make me regret it.

The address came through immediately.

Ethan didn't hesitate. He went home, threw clothes in a bag, grabbed his keys, and drove.

The cabin was exactly what Ethan expected. Small, rustic, nestled in the woods with a view of a lake that probably looked stunning in daylight. Now, in the fading evening light, it just looked isolated.

Kai's car was parked outside.

Ethan sat in his own car for a full five minutes, trying to figure out what to say. How to explain. How to fix what he'd broken.

Finally, he just got out and knocked.

Footsteps. A pause. Then the door opened.

Kai stood there, wearing an old sweatshirt, hair messy, eyes red. He looked surprised. Then guarded.

"How did you find me?"

"Diana."

"Of course she did." Kai didn't move from the doorway. "What do you want, Ethan?"

"To talk. To apologize. To—"

"You wanted space. I gave it to you."

"I was wrong."

Kai laughed, hollow. "Yeah. You were."

They stood there, the distance between them feeling wider than the few feet of doorway.

"Can I come in?" Ethan asked quietly.

Kai hesitated. Then stepped aside.

The cabin was warm, a fire crackling in the fireplace. Photos covered one wall, clearly Kai's work. A half-empty bottle of wine sat on the coffee table next to Kai's camera.

"You've been drinking," Ethan observed.

"You drove two hours to judge my coping mechanisms?"

"No. I drove two hours to tell you I'm sorry."

Kai moved to the window, arms crossed, staring out at the lake. "For what specifically? Panicking? Blaming me? Asking for space right after meeting my mother?"

Each word was a knife.

"All of it," Ethan said. "I was scared. Everything was falling apart and I didn't know how to handle it, so I lashed out at the one person who didn't deserve it."

"You said the relationship was a mistake."

"I said choosing happiness over logic was a mistake. That's different."

Kai turned. "Is it? Because from where I stood, it sounded like you were regretting me."

"I was regretting the consequences. Not you. Never you."

"That's the same thing, Ethan. You can't separate me from the consequences of being with me. They're a package deal." Kai's voice broke. "And if you can't handle the cost—"

"I can."

"You couldn't three days ago."

"Three days ago I was drowning. I couldn't see a way forward that didn't involve losing everything." Ethan stepped closer. "But then Diana called. And Lucas. And I realized I was so focused on what I was losing that I couldn't see what I still had."

"Which is?"

"You. If you'll still have me."

Kai's expression wavered. "You can't just show up here and expect—"

"I'm not expecting anything. I'm asking. I'm fighting." Ethan pulled out his phone, showed Kai the blog post, the messages from Richard Chen, the emails from lawyers willing to help challenge the non-compete.

"I'm not going back to the firm. I'm not choosing safety over you. I'm choosing to fight for a future where I don't have to choose at all."

Kai read the screen, eyes widening. "Ethan, this is... this is public. Everyone will know."

"Good."

"Your reputation—"

"Was built on hiding who I am. Maybe it's time for a new reputation."

Kai set the phone down carefully. "This could destroy your entire career."

"The career was already destroyed. I'm just deciding what to build in its place."

"And if it fails? If you fight the non-compete and lose? If you can't find work and run out of money and end up resenting me for all of it?"

"Then we'll deal with it. Together." Ethan caught his hands. "I'm not James, Kai.

I'm not going to ghost you when things get hard. I'm going to show up. I'm going to fight. And yes, sometimes I'm going to panic and say the wrong thing and hurt you. But I'll also apologize.

And try to do better. Every single day."

Kai's eyes filled with tears. "You really mean that."

"Yes."

"Even though I'm difficult and chaotic and come with a mother who threatens people?"

"Especially because of that."

Kai pulled his hands away, turned back to the window. "I'm scared."

"Me too."

"What if this doesn't work?"

"What if it does?"

Silence fell. Just the crackle of fire, the distant sound of the lake.

"I need you to understand something," Kai said finally. "I can't be the reason you give up on stability. I can't carry that weight."

"You're not. I'm choosing this. For me." Ethan moved to stand beside him. "I've spent my entire life building a version of myself that other people would approve of. And it made me successful. Respected. Empty."

Kai glanced at him.

"You didn't make me give that up," Ethan continued. "You just made me brave enough to admit I wanted something different."

"What do you want?"

"I want to work on cases that matter. I want to wake up next to someone I love. I want to stop performing and start living." Ethan turned to face him fully. "And I want to do all of that with you. If you'll let me."

Kai's breath caught. "You love me."

"Yeah. I do."

"Even though we're a disaster?"

"Because we're a disaster. The best kind."

Kai laughed, tears spilling over. "We really are terrible at this."

"The worst."

"And you're sure? About all of it?"

"No," Ethan admitted. "I'm terrified. But I'm sure about you."

Kai closed the distance between them, cupped Ethan's face. "If we do this, we do it honestly. No more running. No more panic-induced breakups in parking lots."

"Agreed."

"And when things get hard, which they will, we talk. We don't shut down or push away or—"

Ethan kissed him, cutting off the list of conditions.

Kai melted into it, hands fisting in Ethan's jacket, pulling him closer.

When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Kai rested his forehead against Ethan's.

"I love you too," he whispered. "Even though you're an overthinker with terrible timing and a tendency to catastrophize."

"Those are some of my best qualities."

"I know." Kai kissed him again, softer. "Stay tonight?"

"Yeah."

They moved to the couch, tangled together, fire warming the small space. Kai told Ethan about the cabin, how he'd bought it two years ago as a place to escape when the world got too loud. Ethan told Kai about the plan to fight the non-compete, the lawyers who'd reached out, the small grassroots movement forming around his case.

"It might not work," Ethan said. "The firm has more money, better lawyers, more resources."

"But you have something they don't."

"What's that?"

"The truth. And people who believe in you." Kai kissed his temple. "Including me."

That night, they lay in the cabin's small bed, wrapped around each other, listening to the sounds of the forest.

"What happens Monday?" Kai asked.

"I call Richard Chen. Tell him I'm fighting the non-compete. Then I call the reporters who've been emailing and tell them my story."

"And after that?"

"I have no idea. Maybe I work part-time somewhere while the lawsuit plays out. Maybe I start my own practice. Maybe I become a barista." Ethan smiled. "But whatever happens, I'm not doing it alone."

"No. You're not."

They fell asleep like that, holding each other, the future uncertain but finally, terrifyingly, theirs.

Three months later, the non-compete case was still pending, but things had shifted.

The blog post had gone viral. News outlets picked up the story. Other lawyers facing similar retaliation reached out. What had started as Ethan's personal battle had become something bigger.

Richard Chen hired him as a consultant, paying enough to cover rent while the lawsuit played out. It wasn't corporate law money, but it was enough. More importantly, the work mattered.

Kai's photography career took off after a profile piece about him supporting his boyfriend's fight against discrimination. Galleries that had ignored him before were suddenly interested. He hated the attention, but couldn't deny it helped.

They fought sometimes. Ethan would spiral about money. Kai would withdraw when Ethan got too focused on work. But they also talked. Learned each other's patterns. Figured out how to navigate the hard parts.

Carmen had them over for dinner every other week. Lucas became a regular fixture in their lives, bringing wine and unsolicited advice in equal measure. Diana stopped threatening Ethan's life and started inviting him to gallery events.

It wasn't perfect.

But it was real.

And on a random Tuesday evening, sitting in Kai's apartment while Kai edited photos and Ethan reviewed case files, Ethan realized something.

He was happy.

Not the performed happiness of his old life. Not the careful contentment that came from checking boxes and meeting expectations.

Real happiness. Messy and complicated and uncertain and absolutely worth every risk.

"You're staring again," Kai said without looking up from his screen.

"Can't help it."

"What are you thinking about?"

Ethan closed his laptop, moved to stand behind Kai's chair. He wrapped his arms around him, pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"I'm thinking about how I used to believe that choosing between career and love was inevitable. That you couldn't have both, so you had to pick."

"And now?"

"Now I think maybe the real choice isn't between love and career. It's between fear and courage." Ethan turned Kai's chair, knelt so they were eye level. "And I choose courage. Every time."

Kai smiled, eyes soft. "Even when I leave my cameras everywhere and forget to do dishes?"

"Especially then."

"And when you reorganize my studio without asking and color-code my files?"

"I'm helping."

"You're controlling."

"Same thing."

Kai laughed, pulled him into a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too."

His phone buzzed. A text from his lawyer: Judge ruled in our favor. Non-compete is unenforceable. You're free.

Ethan stared at the screen, heart pounding.

"What is it?" Kai asked.

"We won. The non-compete is void."

Kai's eyes widened. "Ethan, that's... that's huge."

"Yeah."

"You can take the job at Chen's. Full-time. Or go anywhere you want."

Ethan looked at him, this man who'd pushed him and challenged him and loved him through the messiest parts. Who'd never asked him to be anything other than himself.

"I want to stay at Chen's," he said. "The work matters. And I'm good at it."

"You sure? You could probably go back to corporate law now. Bigger firms, better money—"

"I don't want that life anymore." Ethan cupped his face. "I want this one. With you. Building something that matters."

Kai kissed him, deep and sure. "Okay then."

"Okay."

That night, they celebrated with cheap wine and takeout, curled up on the couch, talking about the future in ways that felt possible instead of terrifying.

And when Ethan finally fell asleep, Kai's head on his chest, city lights painting patterns on the ceiling, he felt something he'd been chasing his entire life without knowing it.

Peace.

Not because everything was perfect.

But because for the first time, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

With exactly who he wanted to be with.

Building exactly the life he wanted to live.

The cost had been high. His old career, his reputation in certain circles, the approval of people who'd once mattered.

But what he'd gained was worth infinitely more.

Himself.

His truth.

His love.

And a future that, while uncertain, was finally, beautifully, completely his own.

Six months after that, Ethan stood in a small courthouse, hand in hand with Kai, surrounded by the people who'd helped them survive the hardest year of their lives.

"You sure about this?" Kai whispered.

Ethan looked at him, this chaotic, brilliant, brave man who'd crashed into his carefully ordered life and turned everything upside down in the best possible way.

"Never been more sure of anything," he said.

The officiant smiled. "Then let's begin."

And as Ethan said his vows, promising forever to someone he'd only known for a year, promising courage over fear and truth over comfort, he realized something.

Sometimes the best decisions aren't the logical ones.

Sometimes the best decisions are the ones that terrify you.

The ones that cost everything but give you back yourself.

The ones that look like mistakes until suddenly, impossibly, they look like destiny.

Kai slid the ring onto his finger, eyes shining.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too."

And when they kissed, the small crowd cheering, Ethan felt something click into place.

Not an ending.

A beginning.

The start of something messy and beautiful and absolutely worth every risk they'd taken to get here.

Together.

Finally, perfectly, devastatingly together.

And that was more than enough.