Elias stood by the edge of the village, the morning mist still clinging to the earth as if the world itself had not fully woken. It was strange—this quiet, peaceful life. It felt like a dream. A far cry from the life he had once known, the life of chains, whispers, and the unrelenting weight of power. The same weight that had nearly crushed him in the past, and yet still lingered in his chest, like a shadow he could never quite outrun.
He stared at the almond tree in the distance, its branches heavy with blossoms. The petals, delicate and pure, seemed to beckon him, offering a fleeting moment of peace. But no matter how hard he tried to focus on the beauty before him, his mind kept returning to Damien. To their broken past. To the promises that hung between them like fragile threads.
"Are you running away again?" Damien's voice cut through the silence, thick with an edge that Elias hadn't heard in a long time.
Elias turned slowly, his eyes meeting Damien's. The man stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable, but there was a tension in his posture—an unspoken weight he carried. It was the same weight that had been there from the very beginning. The weight of what they had done to each other.
"I'm not running," Elias said quietly, his voice betraying a vulnerability he hadn't allowed himself to show in years. "I just need space to breathe."
Damien stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Elias's face. "I can't give you space, Elias. Not anymore." His voice was low, almost a growl, as if the words themselves were a struggle to get out. "I've been living in a prison of my own making. I don't want to lock you in one again."
Elias felt the familiar sting in his chest at the mention of the word 'prison.' He had spent so many years in one, both literal and emotional, and the scars of that time were still fresh, hidden beneath the surface like a wound that never quite healed.
"I'm not asking you to," Elias replied, his voice tight. "I'm just trying to figure out how to be myself again, without everything else weighing me down."
Damien's gaze softened, but there was something raw in his eyes—a mixture of regret and desperation, of wanting to fix something that could never truly be fixed. "And you think I don't feel the same way?" His tone softened, and for a moment, it was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, leaving only the man beneath it. "I've spent every day of my life trying to make up for the mistakes I've made with you. And yet, here you are, still broken. And I don't know how to fix it."
Elias closed his eyes, fighting the emotions that swelled in his chest. "I don't think you can," he said quietly. "But I need you to stop trying. Let me find my way, Damien."
The silence between them was deafening. The wind rustled the leaves of the almond tree, carrying with it the scent of blossoms that reminded Elias of everything he had lost. And yet, amidst the beauty, there was an undeniable darkness. A darkness that, no matter how much they tried to deny it, had always been there between them.
"You don't have to do it alone," Damien said, his voice barely a whisper.
Elias looked up, meeting Damien's gaze, his heart heavy. There was no denying the pain in Damien's eyes. The guilt that had haunted him for years. And yet, there was something else there now. Something Elias couldn't quite name.
"I don't want to need you," Elias admitted, the words coming out before he could stop them. "I don't want to need anyone."
Damien's face hardened slightly, but there was no anger in his eyes, only a deep, aching understanding. "But you do need me, Elias. Just like I need you." His words hit Elias like a tidal wave, crashing over him and leaving him breathless. "And no matter how much we fight it, no matter how much we try to push each other away, we'll never stop needing each other."
Elias stepped back, the space between them widening as he tried to make sense of the storm inside him. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the pain of the past with the unexpected pull he still felt toward Damien. It was like a magnetic force—something he couldn't control, no matter how much he wanted to.
"You're right," Elias finally whispered. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to trust you again. But I can't keep running."
Damien didn't move. He didn't say anything. He just stood there, watching Elias, waiting.
And for a moment, time seemed to freeze. The world around them—the village, the trees, the sky—disappeared. All that was left was the space between them, and the unsaid things that lingered in the air like a heavy fog.
"Then stay," Damien said, his voice filled with quiet determination. "Stay and let me show you what I can be. What we can be."
Elias's chest tightened, his heart racing. He wanted to walk away. He wanted to leave before it became too real, too painful. But something inside him—something buried deep beneath all the hurt and the scars—wanted to stay. To take a chance. To let go of the fear that had held him captive for so long.
"I can't promise anything," Elias whispered, his voice breaking.
"I don't need promises," Damien replied, his voice soft but firm. "I just need you to stay."
The words hung in the air, suspended in time, as Elias looked into Damien's eyes. There was a plea there, an unspoken longing that resonated deep within him. And for the first time in years, Elias felt a flicker of hope.
Later that night, as Elias lay in bed, the room still, save for the soft rustle of the wind outside, his mind wandered back to the conversation. He had told Damien he couldn't promise anything. But maybe, just maybe, there was something worth fighting for. A future that didn't have to be defined by their past.
He closed his eyes, the weight of the day heavy on his chest. But for the first time in a long while, the weight didn't feel like a burden. It felt like a choice. And for once, that choice wasn't one he was running from.