continued from the last conversation

The kitchen's golden light caught the wine's reflection in Lucas's glass, painting fleeting patterns on the table. Lucas broke off another piece of his empanada, the slow, almost meditative motion. "Guy number one, Paul... we met at a party during med school. It became physical very early. I thought I loved him, but with time, I wonder if it was just the physical connection that kept me there."

Kyle tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady but gentle. Lucas continued, his voice tinged with both clarity and regret. "I wanted tenderness, acknowledgment beyond the bedroom. I clung to the passion in his eyes, convinced it was love."

Lucas hesitated, tracing the rim of his glass. "But sometimes, I wonder... was I just seeing my feelings reflected back at me? Paul was funny and kind and... closeted. So deep in the closet, he ended up marrying a girl."

Kyle winced, his jaw tightening. "Wow. That's not just in the closet; that's the whole Narnia wardrobe. I'm sorry, Lucas. That must've hurt."

Lucas nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the ache behind his words. "I stayed for four years, thinking love meant patience," he admitted softly. "But he could never give me more than secrecy."

Kyle's hand found Lucas's arm, grounding him. "He never told anyone?"

Lucas shook his head. "Not even a hint. To his family, I was just his 'friend.' I played along because I loved him, but... after a while, I realized I was holding onto something that wasn't holding onto me."

Kyle flinched, remembering when he tried to leave Lucas before Hell's agents caught wind of his existence. He reached across the table and gently stroked Lucas's hand. "Sometimes loving in the open can be dangerous," he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of his own struggles. "But denying it—denying a part of who you are—is a slow death. Acknowledging you was the least he could do."

Lucas hesitated, his gaze dropping to his plate. "His family found out eventually. He left our chat open by mistake. They pressured him to break it off, and he called me to say it was over."

Kyle's fork froze mid-air. "He didn't even have the decency to face you in person?" His voice carried a quiet anger.

Lucas exhaled, shaking his head as though the memory was too much. "It wasn't just the breakup—the waiting, the secrecy, the humiliation. He returned a few months later, saying he missed me and wanted to fix things. Part of me wanted to slam the door in his face. But another part—a stupid, hopeful part—thought maybe things would finally change."

Kyle's jaw clenched, but he forced his voice to stay steady. "And?"

Lucas breathed deeply, trying to quell a fire in his throat. "He said he needed time. He still wouldn't be open about us. I tried to wait, and we became lovers again, but something had broken. Our love turned into shame. I ended it myself this time but was left questioning everything."

Kyle leaned closer, his voice steady but edged with quiet frustration. "I don't think Paul loved you, Lucas," he said deliberately and carefully. "He asked you to stay hidden to protect himself."

Lucas's lips trembled slightly, his fingers tightening on his glass as he whispered, "Maybe he did, in his way. But it wasn't enough."

Kyle brushed Lucas's hair gently, his touch lingering. "Afraid as I am to face the supernatural, I would gladly put my life on the line for you," he thought, but he held the words back, sensing Lucas needed comfort more than promises. Instead, he kissed Lucas's forehead, his lips warm against his skin. He whispered, "Love should be unconditional."

The soft gesture sent a wave of calm through Lucas. For a moment, he closed his eyes, the warmth of Kyle's kiss starkly contrasting the coldness he remembered from Paul. A faint, steadying breath escaped him as the ache in his chest loosened just slightly. "I know."

Lucas's fingers stilled, the faint tremor in his hand betraying the calm he tried to maintain. His eyes darted briefly to Kyle's, searching for reassurance before returning to his plate. Lucas closed his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I was a mess after that," he admitted. "I drank too much and made mistakes I can't even remember. But my friends pulled me out of the fog—camping, dancing, concerts. They reminded me I was worth more than the shame I'd carried."

Kyle's jaw tightened slightly. His hand instinctively reached across the table to brush Lucas's knuckles—a deliberate, grounding touch. His thoughts churned with Lucas's words, a mix of quiet anger at what Lucas had endured and a deeper determination to be someone Lucas could always rely on. "They sound like good friends," he said, his voice steady but warm.

The ghost of a smile tugged at Lucas's lips, a flicker of light breaking through the shadows of his memories. "They saved me. It wasn't easy to let them, but I realized I couldn't carry the weight alone. Little by little, I found my footing again." He traced the rim of his glass absently, the faint refrigerator hum a steady backdrop to his words.

"It wasn't immediate, though," Lucas murmured, his voice carrying gratitude that softened the ache in his chest. "Healing was messy, but eventually, I let myself hope again. That's when he appeared."

"Guy number two, huh?" Kyle's voice carried a teasing edge, his attempt to draw Lucas back to the present. He shifted slightly, the table's edge pressing into his hip, grounding him as he observed Lucas's expression.

Lucas smiled faintly, sipping wine. The glass felt cool against his fingers, and its weight grounded him. "We locked eyes at a concert, and it felt like the world had shifted. The music resonated through me, deeper than sound—like it was part of my soul."

Kyle tilted his head, amusement flickering across his features, though his chest tightened with a faint unease. The world shifting... that sounds too familiar. "Are you sure it wasn't just an outstanding concert?" His lips quirked upward, though his grip on his wine glass tightened slightly.

Kyle felt a flicker of something he couldn't quite name—jealousy? Frustration?—at the thought of someone else leaving such an indelible mark on Lucas. But he let it pass as he studied Lucas's face, framed in the golden kitchen light. This wasn't about him. It was about Lucas.

Lucas shook his head, his smile fading into something softer, almost reverent. "It wasn't the music. It was him." He paused, swirling the wine in his glass, watching how the liquid caught the light. "He had violet eyes," Lucas murmured, his voice tinged with awe. "We race towards each other; then he said "You are like me," and his voice seemed to stop time." His gaze flicked briefly to Kyle, whose expression remained calm though his mind whirled with recognition.

Kyle took a slow sip of wine, buying himself a moment. Violet eyes. You are like me. The pieces clicked into place with unnerving precision. Of course, it's him. His thoughts raced, but he forced himself to speak lightly, his tone betraying none of his realization. "Sounds like he left quite an impression," he said, though his voice carried an edge of vulnerability.

Lucas nodded, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his glass. "He did. It felt like we'd known each other forever. I felt whole, happy, and proud of the love I could give, and then... he was gone. It was like touching heaven momentarily, only to lose it." His voice softened, and his words carried a wistful ache.

Kyle leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. He would leave, Kyle thought bitterly. That's what he does—he whispers, he heals, but he never stays. He studied Lucas's face, the way his voice carried a hint of the spirit's touch, like a breeze lingering long after it had passed. "Who knows why he left? Maybe that's his way of loving—a gift for you," Kyle said gently, his voice steadying. "Sometimes love isn't meant to stay but to guide you toward what you could become. But that might not be the love you were looking for."

Lucas glanced at him, the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at his lips. "It felt like going back to the mountains, feeling the cold breeze and sun kissing my skin, like going home. Except it wasn't home but a brand new place—a place I started to look for since then," he admitted. "Until I found you."

Kyle's arms encircled Lucas, his grip firm but gentle as he kissed his temple. "Whoever he was, I'm glad he gave you something to hold onto, even if just for a moment," Kyle murmured, his words carrying a quiet sincerity. And I wonder if he's still watching over you.

Lucas leaned into Kyle, inhaling deeply as the warmth of his chest steadied him. "Me too," he whispered, his voice soft but sure.

Lucas paused, the faint clink of Kyle's glass against the table breaking the silence. "Even after he left, I carried that feeling with me, the loving tenderness. I went to more concerts, hoping to find him again—the man who made me feel this incredible connection. But I never did. And that's when Guy Number Three appeared."

Kyle studied Lucas's face, noting the tight line of his lips and the furrow in his brow. Reading Lucas's expression, he could guess he also ended up hurt. His hand shifted on the table, brushing against a stray crumb as his heart sank. "Darling?"

Lucas nodded, his gaze dropping to the scattered golden crumbs of the empanadas. "I ran into him four times at different venues. He wasn't like Guy Number Two—he wasn't ethereal or mysterious. He was... persistent. Flirty. He made me feel noticed, like I mattered."

Kyle's chest tightened, a faint tension settling in his shoulders. "Lucas, did he hurt you?" he asked, his voice low and steady, laced with quiet intensity.

Lucas shook his head quickly. "No. It was consensual. But I was too vulnerable back then." He hesitated, biting his lip. "I thought his persistence meant he cared, that it could lead to something real." A soft laugh tinged with self-awareness escaped him. "I was so naive. I imagined I could recreate what I had with Guy Number Two, as if being sweet and open would make it happen again."

Kyle tilted his head slightly, his eyes steady on Lucas. "And?" he prompted gently.

Lucas exhaled, his voice trembling. "There was no connection. No spark. The moment it was over, I just felt... disgusted. At him. At myself." He stared at the last empanada on the plate, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I told myself maybe something casual was better than nothing. That it was all I deserved after everything with Paul. But it wasn't. It wasn't love. It wasn't even close."

Kyle's fingers brushed against Lucas's knuckles—a deliberate, grounding touch. He broke the empanada in half and offered Lucas a piece, his voice steady but warm. "Lucas," he said firmly, "you don't owe anyone your body—not for their persistence, not for their attention. They were blind to your worth. That's on them, not you."

Lucas accepted the empanada, a tear slipping down his cheek as he nodded. "I tried dating after that, but it always felt wrong," he murmured.

Kyle reached for Lucas's hand, his touch firm and reassuring. "You were grieving," he said softly. "Losing love doesn't heal overnight."

Lucas's fingers tightened around Kyle's, grounding him. "I kept questioning myself. Was I asking for too much? Was Guy Number Two real, or just a dream? For a while, I thought the problem was me. But then," his voice steadied, a newfound resolve lacing his words, "I realized they just weren't enough for me. I didn't need to settle for scraps."

Lucas sighed, his fingers tracing the rim of his nearly empty wine glass. "I started to travel and enjoy my youth. That's when I met Jacob; there was an instant connection. He promised me freedom and love, but after the honeymoon phase, it became clear he couldn't handle himself, let alone us."

Kyle shifted closer, his jaw tightening as he struggled to contain his emotions: guilt for scaring Jacob weeks ago and anger at Lucas's endurance. "He told you what you needed to hear," he said, his voice low and tinged with quiet anger. But it wasn't real, was it?"

Lucas shook his head, a hollow laugh escaping him. "When he pulled away, I felt invisible, like I was back where I started. Worse—because I knew what I was losing this time."

Kyle's hand found Lucas's beneath the table, his thumb brushing steadily, grounding them both. His voice dropped, quieter but no less resolute. "He made you feel like it was your fault, didn't he?"

Lucas nodded, his gaze fixed on the table. "I told you, he said I was naive," he murmured, his voice heavy with the ache of old wounds. "For months, I tried to make it work. If I changed—if I were more exciting, more... everything—he'd stop."

Kyle's chest tightened as he remembered their earlier conversation: Lucas admitting he'd tried toys, seduction games, anything to reignite the connection. The restrained fury he'd felt then burned hotter now in the face of Lucas's raw vulnerability.

"He let you carry all that guilt," Kyle said, his voice trembling with controlled anger. "He watched you try to save something he didn't even care to fix." His knuckles whitened briefly against the table's edge. "That bastard."

Lucas's voice tightened, his fingers curling briefly under Kyle's. "When he cheated, it wasn't just about sleeping with someone else. It was... everything. I gave up so much—my home, family, career—and it felt like none mattered to him. I kept telling myself I could fix it. I wanted to fix it. But the truth was, he didn't want me to."

Kyle's jaw clenched as the memory of Jacob's evasions during their earlier confrontation flickered. His grip on Lucas's hand tightened slightly. "He didn't deserve you," Kyle said, his voice raw. "He never did. And letting you think it was your fault?" He exhaled sharply, a low growl beneath his words. "He was the problem, Lucas. Not you."

Lucas leaned closer; his voice was soft but steadier now. "It's in the past. The pain takes time to heal, but now... you are my present and future."

Kyle hesitated, his lips pressing together as Lucas's words settled over him. His voice softened, though his resolve remained. "I'll admit, I no longer feel bad for scaring Jacob. Not after what he did to you. He won't get another chance to hurt you."

Lucas's gaze met Kyle's, his voice quiet but firm. "Kyle. Don't. Whatever you're planning, it's not worth it."

Kyle's grip tightened briefly, a silent promise lingering in the air. "Loving you honestly, earnestly, without shame—that's the bare minimum you deserve." He wanted to rewrite Lucas's past, to erase every moment of pain Jacob had caused. But he couldn't. He could only ensure Lucas never felt that way again.

Lucas leaned in, his voice quiet but resolute. "It's in the past. The pain takes time to heal, but now... you are my present and future."

Kyle hesitated, his lips pressing together briefly as a flicker of doubt crossed his eyes. "Lucas... I see everything you've been through, and I wonder... am I enough?" He paused, his voice almost a whisper. "I've kept secrets, made mistakes. And sometimes I wonder if you'd be safer with someone else."

Lucas cut him off, his other hand resting firmly over Kyle's. "No, Kyle. You're everything. You're different." His voice carried a quiet intensity that filled the small space between them.

Kyle blinked, caught off guard by Lucas's certainty. His lips parted slightly, but he faltered. "Different, how?"

Lucas exhaled, his fingers brushing Kyle's wrist. "Paul was a coward, afraid of what others might say and scared to stand against his family. I don't think that will be a problem with you, and I am convinced your dad set us up."

Kyle chuckled, turning his hand to clasp Lucas's. "My dad loves to meddle with everyone's life, but I agree. Family approval won't be an issue, and I will do anything to protect you," he said, his voice low but sure. Except for Michael, who will throw a fit when he knows."

Lucas smiled faintly, the corners of his lips trembling. "With Guy Number Two," he continued, his voice quieter, "There was a fleeting connection, but you stayed, deciding to give us a chance. And now I can make celestial empanadas because of it, and they are damn good."

Kyle stayed silent, a grin on his lips. Whatever this love was, it also grounded them and allowed them to grow. He could feel the effect of Lucas's magic in each bite.

"And Guy Number Three..." Lucas faltered, his brows furrowing as his fingers pressed lightly against Kyle's palm. "There isn't even a comparison. That encounter felt... transactional. But you..." His voice cracked, and he squeezed Kyle's hand, grounding himself. "You don't demand anything. You don't take. You just... give."

Kyle leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently against Lucas's. His voice was barely a whisper. "That's because I don't need anything from you, Lucas. Just you. All of you."

Lucas leaned in, the faint aroma of wine and the lingering trace of caramelized onions wrapping around them like a memory. "That's why it's different with you. I don't have to fight to be loved. I don't have to be someone else. You see me—the real me—and still stay."

Kyle brushed a strand of hair from Lucas's face, his touch featherlight. "You stayed, even after learning about my past and the supernatural chaos. Baby, I see all of you—your strength, kindness, and flaws. You are the sweetest guy in the world, and just for not running to the hills and far away, I will deal with whatever issues you have."

The last empanadas were gone, their golden crumbs scattered across the plate, and their glasses were nearly empty. Yet, the warmth of the shared meal lingered in the air as if the kitchen held onto their conversation. Lucas leaned back in his chair, his gaze meeting Kyle's, the light reflecting faintly in his eyes. "I never expected sharing something so simple—food, wine—could feel like this," he admitted softly.

Kyle smiled, his fingers tracing a gentle pattern over Lucas's knuckles as he reached across the table. "Everything is better when shared."

Lucas's grip tightened slightly, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest as he drew a steadying breath. The lingering taste of wine and magic danced on his tongue, grounding him in the moment. "Maybe it's because of the wine, but I think trust isn't built all at once," Lucas said softly. "It's layered, like these empanadas—every piece deliberate, every part worth the effort."

Kyle let out a low chuckle, his smile softening. "Maybe I shouldn't give you more wine," he teased, a playful light in his eyes. His tone shifted, becoming steadier and warmer as his thumb brushed Lucas's hand. "But you're right. Us—it's worth every effort, every piece, every layer," he said, his gaze unwavering. "And I'll ensure every layer we build is strong enough to last."