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84. Under the Same Roof

Author: WJRalde
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-08-10 04:11:38

It’s been five days since John left, and the storm, far from easing, seems to have settled like a curse that keeps us locked in this place, covering the horizon with clouds so dense that even the sea, usually so stubborn and loud, doesn’t dare to roar like before. There’s no clear news, only rumors that arrive late, fragmented, and every time I check my phone with the absurd hope of finding a message from him, all I get is that electronic silence that eats away at my patience and, though I try not to let it show, it’s killing me. Demon, of course, doesn’t help.

“He’s going to be fine,” he says with that certainty I can’t tell is real or just a well-practiced mask. “John knows how to take care of himself.”

He says it while pouring himself coffee as if he owned the kitchen, without asking me, without even offering me a cup, as if he’s decided this confinement has turned us into some kind of dysfunctional married couple where each of us survives by our own rules. I walk over, try to take
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  • Shared Desires   118. Learning the Rhythm

    The most surprising thing isn’t that it happened, but how quickly it now seems to repeat itself. Before, every brush between them relied on my push—a calculated provocation, a carefully planned accident. Today, though, I realize they no longer need me to guide them, and that certainty runs through me like a slow heat settling in my chest and sinking unhurriedly lower.The morning begins without hurry: pale light filters between the curtains, the air is warm and smells of something that’s not quite sleep and not quite wakefulness, but of skin still warm from the night. I’m half-awake, listening to their low voices, exchanging short phrases I can’t fully make out, but carrying that intimate tone that didn’t exist between them before. When I open my eyes, I see Demon lying on his side, his hand resting on John’s forearm as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and John not only doesn’t pull away but tilts his head slightly to hear him better.“Does it still hurt?” Demon asks, a

  • Shared Desires   117. First Spark

    It’s strange how, once a barrier breaks, the rest of the walls fall with a simple push. The tension that once hid in fleeting glances and “accidental” brushes now breathes in plain sight, and I notice it in the way Demon and John move when they think I’m not watching—though in truth, I don’t look away for a second.Awkwardness seeps in first, as if they’re still learning a new language, one made of fingers unsure where to rest and lips cautiously feeling their way forward. But every time one dares a little more, the other answers with a low laugh, as if discomfort dissolves in the spark of boldness itself.“Don’t look at me like that,” John says, though he doesn’t move the hand resting on Demon’s chest, sliding it slowly, as if measuring the distance to his neck.“Like what?” I ask, moving closer, leaning so my voice brushes their skin.“Like you’re planning something,” Demon cuts in, but he doesn’t stop me when my fingers slide over their shoulders and slip between them.“Maybe I am,

  • Shared Desires   116. Tightrope

    It’s no accident —though I pretend it is— that the three of us end up locked in this tiny room; the door jammed with a dry click when John tried to close it to keep the cold out, and now neither his strong hands nor Demon’s angry shoulder-pushes can make it budge even a millimeter. The most amusing part is that neither of them wants to admit that what unsettles them isn’t the lack of space, but the fact that it forces our bodies so close that the smallest movement turns into an electric brush of contact.The room holds nothing more than a narrow bed and a chair shoved into a corner by a small window, but since we’re condemned to wait hours until we can force the lock or help arrives, we end up in an awkward balance where every move requires an improvised choreography to avoid bumping into one another… or to bump into each other exactly when I decide.“We could organize ourselves,” I suggest, my voice soft, wearing the smile I know puts them on guard, “because otherwise we’re going to

  • Shared Desires   115. Crossed Provocations

    I don’t want to keep limiting myself to watching from the safe distance of a doorway or some corner where my hands knot together while they touch each other, because there’s something in the way Demon and John look at one another —even when they try to hide it— that ignites me, and I decide that if I want that spark to grow into a blaze, I need to feed it myself, brazenly, directly, without giving them any room to retreat behind their old walls.The opportunity comes early, when the day barely stretches its gray light across the house, and they, still drowsy, cross paths in the kitchen —one reaching for coffee, the other lighting a cigarette by the window. I slip between them as if it were the most natural thing, brushing my hip against John’s while my hand briefly rests on Demon’s abdomen to nudge him half a step aside, not because he’s in my way, but because I want him to feel I’ve touched him for no reason at all, a provocation disguised as a casual gesture.“You could try not igno

  • Shared Desires   114. Territory Games

    It starts with something that could seem insignificant.A gesture, a stray comment, a moment when none of the three of us has anything urgent to do and yet the air is already too charged for the calm to last.I’m leaning against the doorway to the living room when John, with that low voice he uses when he wants to provoke, tells Demon he doubts he could take him down in a clean grapple. Demon gives that slow, dangerous sideways smile that promises nothing innocent.—Want to try? —he asks, tilting his head toward him like he already knows the answer is yes.There’s no plan, no goal beyond testing strength, but the way they close in on each other makes it clear neither of them intends to hold back completely. John shrugs off his jacket, Demon pushes up his sleeves, and suddenly I have in front of me two bodies I know far too well—how they move, how they smell, how they react to touch.—This is going to be interesting —I murmur, crossing my arms and letting my gaze travel lazily from one

  • Shared Desires   113

    113. Adrenaline HangoverThe silence after the storm has always seemed more dangerous to me than the storm itself.The house, which just a few hours ago throbbed with hurried footsteps, tense voices, and the metallic clatter of ready weapons, now feels like a sleeping animal: it breathes, but could awaken at the slightest movement.The intruder is in custody, and that should give me peace… but what I feel isn’t peace. It’s something else—a slow, warm pulse that has nothing to do with fear.John sits on the couch, back straight, as if still expecting to hear a sound outside. Demon stands near the window, watching the snow fall without rest, as if the night had no intention of ever ending. I’m in between them, unwilling to move away from either. The tension between them is no longer a minefield, but it’s still ground that needs to be stepped on carefully.“You both need to sleep,” I say, and I don’t mean just them, though it’s easier to use them as the excuse.John looks at me, his gaze

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