Blood Of The Wilde - 8. "What God Writes, No Man Scribbles."

[6 months earlier]

"Jesus, Uncle John." Lucas chuckled.

"Shut the fuck up and come here," John demanded. Lucas rushed for the chair and hopped into his uncle's lap, who enveloped the boy in his arms. "He deserved it. Fucking arrogant prick." He groaned, stuffing his face inside Lucas' neck and kissing the boy. "How the fuck are you?" He questioned.

"I'm Bored. And it's barely starting," Lucas whined, pulling away from his uncle's embrace and standing up. He seemed restless as he wandered around the room, brushing his fingers over everything. His uncle's eyes followed his every move.

"Is it true?" The boy asked.

"What is?" John replied as he lit a cigar.

"That I look like him?" The boy elucidated. John smiled.

"Yes." He responded. There was a nostalgic tone to his answer. It came layered with what seemed like buried happy memories. "He was stunning." He stated. "And cocky. The fucker knew it." He added.

"Well, I don't think I'm like him. At all..." Lucas stuttered, stopping just before a small mirror above the liquor cabinet. "I don't think I have that confidence." The boy mumbled.

"You're pure, Lucas. Which makes you better than any of them," John said. He then took a long drag, leaned forward on his chair, and blew the smoke from his mouth, spewing a cloud of intense smoke around the room. "Don't let him change you, kid," he said. His words sounded ominous, like a warning of sorts.

The boy turned to his uncle and smiled, but John seemed distracted.

"See ya later, Uncle John," Lucas uttered before walking out the door.

"I didn't take you for one of those people, Bo. Lurking behind doors, listening to other people's conversations." John asserted, his eyes latched on the smoke room's doorway. A few seconds later, Bo emerged from behind it, slightly tipsy.

"I didn't want to interrupt," the stud clarified. John motioned for him to approach, taking his finger and gently tapping his cheek. Bo chuckled, walked over, and leaned down, kissing him. "Hey, Uncle John..." he greeted before letting his muscular body fall over the chair in front of John's. But as he did, John stood up, slowly stepping over to the window, stopping as his eyes scoured the crowd around the pool.

"I can't even remember the last time I attended one of these parties," John commented as he looked back at his nephew.

"You're not missing much. They're still rotten." Bo sighed. "Can I get you a refill?" He asked, pointing his chin to John's glass.

"Sure," John said, extending his arm. Bo stood up and took the glass from his uncle. The raven hunk's eyes lingered on Bowie's hands as he did. "That's funny...I never noticed," he said.

"What?" Bo questioned as he turned around, walking towards the minibar.

"We have the same hands," John commented as he stared at his own. "My dad's hands..." He added with an underlying nostalgia before he shifted his attention back outside. "Speaking of which, look at that." He stated as Bo returned with his whisky. He grabbed it, and the stud returned to his chair, sitting on one of its armrests. "The way they parade your brother around like a fucking trophy. Father would be proud..." John expressed, his words sagging with disappointment.

"You mean the Warren guy?" Bo questioned, his eyes on his uncle's figure, which loomed over the window, creating the most beautiful shadow that fell over the stud. "He's alright..." He murmured with an unconvincing tone.

"He's a piece of shit." John fired. His voice reverberated across the room. It was sharp and guttural. "Your brother made a new friend, it seems." He added. Bo's head immediately shot up, making John's lips stretch with tamed amusement.

"I should go." The stud announced, his whole body language changing. He seemed suddenly distressed, trying to mask an abrupt haste.

"Bo, keep an eye on Lucas," John stated, his voice piercing Bo's aloofness. The stud chuckled sarcastically.

"Sometimes I wonder if he even needs me." He muttered as his head fell between his shoulders.

"He'll always need you. Trust me." John noted, his voice lingering.

"How can you still come here? You know he hates you, right?" Bo uttered, pausing as he stared at his uncle. But he seemed serene as if Bo's words had bumped into an invisible wall he had erected to protect a different truth.

John's lips stretched into a smile, bringing a gentle breeze of old memories.

"Being the older brother is a lifetime commitment," John stated resolutely. "Now get the fuck out of here." The raven hunk playfully ordered.

Bo obliged, leaving John alone, his silhouette hidden behind the window as he watched William, his soul beaming with yearning and devotion.

Later that evening, after Lucas' performance and as the party died down, John took the opportunity to try to leave the party unannounced. He was ambling down the driveway towards his car when a voice called from behind him.

"I saw you clapping for Lucas," William hollered, his voice bustling. He seemed eager to stop John from leaving. William's usual cold expression melted as he turned around, and a lustful glint erupted from under it.

"He's remarkable," John said. You should be very proud of both your sons..." He added, a gentle smile pushing through.

"I am..." William acquiesced before pausing, his mouth wavering as if he struggled to say something. "Come with me to London next week." He blurted out.

"What?" John replied, squinting. William began to walk up to his brother slowly.

"I have a couple of business meetings. You could come with me...we could...spend some time together. Catch up." The blonde hunk suggested.

"Why not take your wife?" John provoked.

"I would rather not." William calmly stated that a strange benign tension was building.

"Oh right, I forgot...you just married her to spite me." John teased, a playful yet tangible jealousy spewing from his every word. William smirked.

"You're so fucking hot when you get like that. I could suck your cock right now." William mumbled.

There was a brief silence before they both broke into laughter. A wave of euphoric nostalgia and joy rushed through them, bringing with them recollections of a happier and simpler time.

"I can't. Go to London, I mean. I have an appointment." John explained, his giggles still palpable.

"At the district?" William taunted, his charming and playful nature showing, which was only reserved for John.

"With a doctor. I've been having these migraines...they won't go away." John clarified.

"Stop drinking." William mocked.

"Funny..." John replied as the rush of their joyous moment subsided. His smile wavered, and he took a few steps back, turning to his car door. "Enjoy the rest of your night." He said, waving before springing inside.

He started to back the car into the metal gates when he heard William's voice calling.

"John!" The blonde hunk hollered, rushing down towards his brother's car. When John turned to look, William was reaching his opened window. The blonde hunk glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, before leaning into John's seat, sliding his head inside, and kissing him passionately. He could feel John's lustful groans enter his mouth, the unforgettable taste of his brother's spit, and the scent of his breath enveloping him. "I miss you..." William whimpered, his vulnerability flaring like wildfire. He could feel John's tongue sliding deeper inside his mouth, eager to own him, and soon, his brother's hand was crawling up the back of his head, pulling it in, aiding his tongue in diving even deeper. William's lips hugged John's, sucking on them as they pulled apart, both their mouths now flushed red.

They loitered there, eyes latched and twitching with desire.

"Fuck..." John mumbled.

"I know..." William whispered back.

They chuckled in unison, aware that whatever they had stowed away and tucked deep into the recesses of their hearts was still there, very much alive. And it had thrived and flourished despite the imprisonment it had been subjected to.

William glanced around one more time. Then, without missing a beat, he slid his arm inside the car, his hand squeezing inside John's pants.

"Will...what the..." John uttered, unable to cage his giggle as he felt William's finger gently rub against the tip of his cum soaked cock, pulling his foreskin back. Then, the blonde hunk pulled back his hand, taking his cum covered fingers into his mouth, moaning as he eagerly sucked on them. John chuckled. "You're fucking crazy, you know that?" He stated, his eyes on William's soft lips, grinning at him.

"I'll call you when I get back. You better fucking pick up!" William warned.

"I will," John replied as he backed the car, William's hand still floating in the air, seemingly incapable of letting go of him.

William watched his brother drive away, his heart beaming. But as those metal gates closed behind John, as they had once before, a profound sadness took hold, and Blanche's words came flocking back into his mind.

"I see a white silk sky floating over you and your lover. Your bodies are enveloped in a ritual of binding. But... there's a shadow looming."

[Present time]

"What is it?" William asked as he gazed through the window of John and Shannon's kitchen into their small patio, where his brother lay, his eyes meeting a sizable green field beyond it.

It was a modest home, very much contrasting with the comfort and wealth that had been part of John's early life. Yet, as William looked around the small room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of peace, comfort, and warmth, qualities he could never emulate in his own house.

"It's stage 4 glioblastoma," Shannon explained as she stood behind William, her hands leaning against the wooden counter. Her tone was unexpectedly soft and accommodating, of someone who understood the weight of her words. "By the time we found out, it was too late." She disclosed.

"You should have told me. I could have gotten him the best doctors in the country." William argued with subdued bitterness.

"He asked me not to. I think he didn't want to be a burden," Shannon revealed. William could sense her discomfort. She disagreed with John's decision. "It wouldn't matter, anyway. We've been to seven doctors. There's nothing to be done," she stated as her words lounged in sadness.

"How has he been?" William asked, his hands concealed inside his pockets. His fingers drilled into his skin, confining his despair.

"Most days, he seems fine. Every once in a while, he'll wake up in so much pain that he can't even get out of bed that day." Shannon informed. "But recently... he just wakes up and sits there for hours...staring into nothing, like he's searching for something." She said, walking over and standing next to William.

"Searching for what?" The blonde hunk questioned.

"Himself, I think," Shannon replied, glancing to find William's eyes glistening with tears.

"Thank you for telling me," William uttered, his voice struggling not to crack. You didn't have to," he conceded.

"I don't regret telling you. It's what he would've wanted. Even though he would never admit it." Shannon affirmed as she stepped back, walking up to one of the cabinets and grabbing a ceramic cup. She placed it on the counter and poured hot tea into it, adding a couple of drops of milk from a bottle. "My only regret is that I couldn't give John what he wanted the most. A child." She uttered, denouncing her first signs of weakness. William's eyes froze. "Perhaps you'll be able to help him find whatever he's looking for. What he lost... before..." She mumbled.

"Before what?" William asked, finally facing her as she sipped her milked tea.

"His mind is slipping away. I'm afraid that soon, there won't be anything left of John inside that man out there," she said.

They lingered there, gazing at each other. They stood in that small and humble kitchen, two people who had been strangers to one another for most of their lives, now bound by the most intimate recognition. In this shared silence, Sharon conveyed her truth to William: she had loved John for half her life, but what he now needed rested in William's hands, not hers.

"Would you like some tea, William?" She calmly stated, her eyes diving down as she concealed her watery eyes from him.

"That would be lovely, thank you," William replied softly, appreciatively.

As Shannon began to prepare his tea, William turned, taking a deep breath before walking to the door facing the patio where John sat and opening it. As he did, a fresh spring breeze rushed through him, his eyes closing in momentary delight. Strangely enough, the closer he got to John, the calmer he felt, and it wasn't long before his hand landed on his brother's shoulder, his fingers brushing against the soft cotton jumper he wore. John lifted his eyes, recognizing his brother immediately.

"Will...I was starting to think you wouldn't come," John said. Right away, it was clear that he struggled with his speech. William smiled, laboring to hide the profound anguish of seeing John's spirit hijacked by this insidious ailment.

"I'm here." He replied, slowly sitting on the edge of John's sunbed, facing him.

John smiled and brushed his fingers over William's blonde silk hair, a mundane gesture he had done countless times but now bore the weight of a past galloping further away from his mind.

"When are you cutting your hair?" He questioned as if William's long blonde locs still skated between his fingers.

"I don't know... I kinda like it like this." William countered playfully, emulating their old banter. "John, I was thinking...it might be nice for you to come spend a few days at the beach house with me. What do you say?" William proposed. John's eyes squinted as if his brother's suggestion triggered a sudden brooding.

"I don't know. Dad hates it when we sneak off like this," John said. William sighed softly, trying his hardest not to denounce John's evident mental deterioration through his expression.

"Don't worry. I talked to him. It'll be fine." He appeased, winking.

"Okay, then," John replied, smirking jovially, his face morphing into a reflection of his old self.

William cordially sipped his tea for a few minutes before taking John to the car, driving towards the beach house.

He purposefully neglected to tell his brother that Lucas and Bo were on the other end of town, getting ready to meet them later that day at William's request.

For the last few days, the boys had been busy packing several suitcases, excited for the upcoming trip to Europe they had been planning.

"I was thinking of Milan, Verona, Venice, and Trieste." Lucas excitedly framed, his knees balancing on a chair facing Bo's desk as the stud packed his bags. The boy's finger traveled along a large map on the wall, his body dancing with anticipation as he planned their route. Bo occasionally glanced at him, beaming, his eyes shifting between Lucas' hands and his bubble butt, which seemed to inadvertently tease his cock. "Then we can rent a car and drive to Madrid, Toledo, Seville, and Granada. Maybe an early flight to Berlin, and I was thinking of Portugal next...? I've heard the men there are hot as fuck." He teased.

Bo's hands, entertained by pushing clothes inside his bag, suddenly stopped, his dark, piercing eyes locked on Lucas.

"Are you thinking about fucking other men on this trip?" He questioned, one of his eyebrows lifted.

"Only if you join me..." Lucas teased, wiggling his ass. Bo chuckled, tossing his bag to the side and rushing for Lucas. He grabbed his brother, yanking him off the chair, and threw him on the bed, immediately spreading his legs and sliding himself between them. "Are you excited?" Lucas asked, his face the embodiment of joy.

"Can't you tell?" Bo groaned.

"About the trip, silly," Lucas asked, giggling as Bo's hands slid under him. The stud's fingers grasped the waistband of his brother's shorts and pulled them off.

"You know I am." The stud moaned, unzipping his denim jeans and pulling his precum-soaked cock from inside, already rubbing the boy's taint with it.

"Do you think we should leave Dad alone? I mean..." The boy rambled. But Bo pulled him, Lucas' smooth body sliding across the silk sheets.

"Lucas...I'm trying to fuck you." Bo groaned, his voice brimming with lust.

"I just...oh fuck!" The boy hollered, his loud words bursting out unannounced as he felt Bo's thick, 9-inch dick enter him. And that was enough to quiet Lucas' unsettled spirit. "I'll shut up now." He whispered, his face squinting with pleasurable pain.

"Good boy," Bo uttered, falling over Lucas, their bodies locking as the fabric of their shirts rubbed together. Bo's trousers slowly fell to the floor, his muscular asscheeks now squeezing as he pumped his cock into his brother's hungry hole. He looked into Lucas' eyes that disarming vulnerability waiting for him. "Never gets old..." The stud muttered, his lips diving inside Lucas' neck.

"What?" Lucas questioned.

"The way your hole feels," Bo whispered as his mouth climbed over to his brother's ear. Lucas' arms circled Bo, his hands sliding down the stud's muscular back and landing on his ass, squeezing its naturally tanned skin.

"If I fucked some hot, Portuguese guy..." Lucas whispered. "Would you watch...?" He questioned, provoking Bo's cock with every word that fled his mouth.

"As long as he didn't fuck you." The stud answered. His tone was getting deeper, less soft. He pulled up, his hands holding the delicate, pulpy skin around Lucas' hips, and started thrusting his pelvis back and forth, the boy's hole queefing gently.

"Oh my God..." Lucas moaned, the feeling of Bo's cock fucking him making his eyes roll to the back of his head. "Why?" He whimpered as his curls bounced up and down.

"Cause I don't want anyone inside you," Lucas replied, snapping his head back, his long hair flying with it. "I'm the only one who gets to fuck you." The stud groaned, his words fueled with piercing authority, making every blonde hair on Lucas' body prickle with rapture. "Did you fucking hear me, Lucas...hum?" He asked. Lucas began to nod his head, slowly at first. But as Bo's thrust deepened, hitting his magic spot, his head began bobbing to the sides.

"Yes...Bo...my hole is yours..." Lucas whined, his arms stretching outwards as his fingers gripped the sheets around him. "All yours." The boy repeated as Bo grabbed his knees, locking them together. He swung Lucas' legs to the side, pulling his ass to the edge of the bed.

"Fuck!" Lucas hollered as he felt the tip of Bo's cock pinch his prostate. Seconds later, his brother's hand came down, covering his mouth.

But suddenly, he halted, chuckling to himself. He was so used to hiding and numbing their love that the gesture of subduing his brother's pleasure had become second nature to him. So, he slowly pulled his hand away from Lucas' mouth and smirked.

"Ah, fuck it. We're gonna be out of here anyway." The stud stated. He pulled his right leg up, his right foot on the edge of the mattress, and began punching his cock into Lucas' hole at such an angle that the boy's screams of enjoyment burst from his mouth like a shotgun.

That was the last time Bo fucked Lucas in that house. Their uninhibited, unbashful, and unapologetic wails of love traveled across those halls, the stage of so much sorrow, like a vibrant song of passion. And they lingered there indefinitely, like stains of time on the walls.

About an hour later, Lucas was cramming their bags inside the jeep. Upstairs, Bo looked around his room, his eyes bidding farewell to what had been his home for most of his life.

"I knew one day I'd be standing here, watching you leave," Aibee's voice uttered from under the doorway.

"Aibee..." Bo muttered, his somber expression immediately changing. His whole countenance was now beaming. He walked over and hugged her, her head nestling inside his chest.

"I'm...so proud of you. Of the man you have become. Of what you...overcame." Aibee stuttered, caging her tears.

"You raised me right," Bo replied, his hands brushing against Aibeleen's thick grey hair. "Aibee... Lucas and I have been talking...once we get back, we're taking you out of here." The stud stated, pulling back and staring into her eyes. They were soaked in tears.

"Don't think about that now. Enjoy your trip," she said, her hand coasting on Bo's shoulder. As she did, Bo smiled, his love for her growing more potent.

"I love you, Aibee." The stud professed.

"And I love you, my sweet child," Aibeleen replied.

Bo grabbed his backpack and rushed past the hall and down the stairs, his chest tightening as he caged his tears inside it.

It had been a week since William and Nora's confrontation. Since then, the Wilde household had been submerged in a deep gloom. Nora would now spend most of her days secluded inside her bedroom. But in the evening's silence, Aibee would frequently find her wandering around the house in the dark, always carrying a full glass of dry martini in her hand.

A familiar voice broke inside the living room as Bo ran for the door.

"It doesn't matter what you do...or how far you run from who you are. Trust me, I know." Nora stated, her tentative figure crossing the void that filled the room. Despite everything that had happened and her drunken state, she looked flawless. Bo halted, his body slowly coming to a stop before he turned to face her.

"I'm not running away. I'm just trying to find happiness. You should do the same." Bo calmly stated. He marveled in silence, realizing this was the first time he didn't feel anxious in Nora's presence. She chuckled sarcastically, taking a generous sip from her drink.

"I did...once. It didn't really work out the way I planned." She declared as her eyes discreetly glanced at Bo's backpack. "When you're born from the gutter like us, you don't dream. You survive." She stated, her words bringing with them the shadow of her grievance. But as Bo's pity for her filled his eyes, Nora saw her own sad reflection inside them, and after years of neglect, she finally acknowledged him. "You're still my son. You'll always be my son. And I'll always be your mother." She remarked.

But it was too late. She had slowly carved herself out of her son's heart until nothing was left of her inside it.

"You were never my mother. You were just the person who gave birth to me." Bo stated. He swung his backpack over his shoulder and gently closed the door behind him.

Outside, Lucas waited for him near the car, his beautiful emerald eyes beaming at his brother. And in that moment, a wave of warmth and love filled Bo's spirit. He was finally free. He rushed for the car, and they drove through the metal gates, their hands holding across their seats.

And as they drove away, Bo never looked back. Not once.

About an hour later, their car pulled up the beach house driveway. William was already waiting for them, his hand holding one of his usual Cubans.

"Are you sure about this?" Lucas questioned as the car finally stopped, his hand still holding Bo's.

"Yes." The stud replied, his eyes locked on William. He opened the car door and hopped out, with Lucas following behind.

"Hey, Dad." Lucas greeted, walking over to William and kissing his cheek. He could immediately feel his father's tension.

"This might not go as we planned," William stated.

"What do you mean?" Bo questioned.

"He doesn't seem to remember anything from the past 25 years. It's like he's stuck back there." William endeavored to explain.

"Where he was the happiest..." Bo mumbled. William's glistening eyes glanced at him. I should talk to him alone," Bo suggested.

"He's upstairs," William informed.

Bo bolted inside, walking up the steps to the first floor and across the small hall. He stopped before the bedroom door, taking a deep breath before opening it. It felt peaceful inside as if time flowed differently there. His eyes scoured the empty room, stopping on the large glass window that gave access to an ample balcony. John sat on the other side, a scotch in his hand as his eyes scoured the tamed ocean before him. Bo strolled across the room to meet him.

"Do you mind?" Bo asked gently as he stepped inside the sundeck, waiting for John's head to turn. But it didn't. The stud walked over, leaning down next to his father's chair. As he did, John finally turned, his green eyes wandering around Bo's face.

"Who are you?" John asked, his eyes squinting. He didn't recognize Bo's face.

The stud smiled, his compassion immediately enabling and healing his father's discomfort.

"I'm Bowie... but everyone just calls me Bo." The stud said, stretching out his hand and holding his father's.

"Nice to meet you, Bo..." John muttered, his eyes glancing down where they lingered. Suddenly, he took his other hand and slowly skated his fingers over Bo's skin, scanning every inch of the stud's hand. "Your hands..." He uttered.

"They look exactly like yours." Bo interrupted, drawing a soft, tender smile with his lips.

"I take after my father, you know. He has rough hands." John said, sighing. "I bet he'd hate for people to point that out, though." He added, his face frowning as if he searched for his memories and words, one at a time.

"I never knew who my real father was," Bowie replied.

And at that moment, as John peeked inside his eyes, Bo understood just how callous a curse destiny had placed upon them. That he would finally allow them to meet as father and son, only for life to pull them apart yet again. But from under this despairing realization, Bo's unwavering spirit pushed through. Like his father, he persevered. And he forgave. Even the cruelest of fates. It was their nature. His and John's.

"That's a shame. I never had any children myself, but...You seem like a kind young fellow. I'm sure any man would be proud to be your father." John stated, his eyes pivoting to the ocean as the sun descended over it.

Bowie leaned in and hugged John, his face nestling into his father's neck. The stud lingered there, and in those few moments, those seconds, the life that could have been flashed before his eyes. One where he and John had been given a chance to love each other and where their souls hadn't been plagued by the longing for affection.

"Oh..." John uttered, surprised. Yet, despite his initial reaction, his body language showed no discomfort or awkwardness. It seemed as if the boy's touch seemed right—meant to be.

"Thank you, John," Bo whispered into his father's ear.

Everything went silent, and John's hand climbed up the stud's back, melting into his neck. Bo felt John's body fall into him, his chest trembling as he began to sob.

Bo held his father in the comforting embrace only a son could provide, and their silence was filled with all the sweet words they never got to say to each other.

Their untold story was ushered away with the dying sun. To be held for eternity beyond the sea, where it would live, like a vivid dream.

Bo tucked John into bed, the exhausting emotional encounter taking a toll on him. Moments later, the stud returned to the living room, where William and Lucas waited.

"We should go, or we'll miss the flight." Lucas cautiously warned, aware of how deeply emotional the last few days had been for Bo.

"Yeah," Bo replied, grabbing his backpack from the couch. But suddenly, he lingered, his eyes on William.

"See you, Dad. We'll talk when I get back," the boy asserted. "I'll be in the car," he whispered to Bo as he walked out.

As the door closed, a deep silence landed.

"Did he...recognize you?" William questioned, his voice eerily soft.

"No," Bo replied. I think... we shouldn't tell him," the stud said, surprised by his one word. But there was resolve in his heart and a sense of responsibility for John's well-being. "It would just be adding to his suffering. He deserves some peace of mind," he concluded.

"Yeah," William replied, his voice cracking. Bo turned to leave. "Bo...wait." William blurted, stopping the stud in his tracks. "I..." The blonde hunk stumbled. He wanted to say so much, but his guilt prevented him.

"It's funny..." Bo said, his voice so low that William had to lean in to listen. But as the stud lifted his head, his tone became less murky. "I can still feel you inside me," Bo said. I think I'll always will."

"Bo..." William mumbled.

"But I don't know what I feel for you anymore," Bo said, his eyes glistening. "It's like...where my love for you was...there's just...loss." The stud struggled to explain. "Maybe, one day, who knows...I'll be able to find it again." Bo hoped.

William's legs trembled, a profound sadness bathing over him. He thought how deeply he had hurt that boy and how ashamed he felt. He finally realized that the dream he thought he had built for him and Bo, that dome that shielded their desires from the outside world, had been Bowie's prison—and his own.

"I hope...you can. One day." William replied, his head dropping between his shoulders. He couldn't bring himself to look up, his face shrinking with misery as he felt Bo's feet moving away from him.

But the fainter they got, the lighter William's heart became. Not because he felt less guilty but because he knew that the further Bowie was from him, the higher the chances were that the boy he had cared for, and the young man he had learned to love, could one day find true happiness. And that was worth every ounce of pain he would endure for not having Bo in his life.

For the next few days, William lingered around the house, John's mumblings of discomfort echoing through it. He nursed his brother, holding his hand through the worst of his pain until he finally fell into a deep respite. During that time, William's memories became his only companions, his soul's whispers his only friends. For those few days, as his soulmate rebounded from the worst of his illness, William experienced what a simple life could have felt like. A life free from pressures and obligations. Slowly but surely, he felt the world's noise and the insidious voices that had plagued him for so many years finally begin to soothe. No meetings, dinners, or parties to entertain. Just him, John, and an infinite ocean before them. Could it have always been like this, he thought? Could his life have been happy if he had only kept his heart open?

Or was Blanche right, and his life been nothing but a series of predestined choices leading up to this?

On the morning of the third day, as William entered John's room, he was faced with the answer.

"I zoned out again, didn't I?" John asked as he sat on the edge of the bed. He seemed depleted, but as he lifted his head, William saw his brother's vibrant soul staring at him.

"John...?" William uttered, cautious. Internally, he was screaming with joy.

"Fuck..." John muttered, ashamed as if he had gone through this before.

"Hey, it's okay." William calmed, rushing to John's knees.

"She called you, didn't she?" John questioned, his tone changing.

"Doesn't matter." William appeased. He would've used this to his advantage any other time in the past to keep John's soul bound to him. But everything was different now. He was different. William now understood: this was no longer about him.

William squeezed between John's legs, their emerald gaze merging once again.

"I dreamt of you..." John whispered as William held his brother's face in his hands. "How long have you been here?" he asked.

"A while," William uttered in the most soothing tone. John's eyes fled for the window, where the tamed sea awaited him.

"I love this place so much." He stated.

"I know." William acknowledged, leaning into John, his nose scavenging for his brother's scent.

"I haven't showered..." John whispered, chuckling.

"Even better," William replied, pushing his lips against John's. Their mouths blended effortlessly in a passionate kiss that echoed years of restraint and sacrifice. But as their tongues dove deeper inside, all the hurtful past, the tribulations, and painful moments faded away, leaving nothing but their hopeful spirits that had waited, patiently underneath their surface, for this moment to arrive.

"Hazelnut and cocoa butter..." John whispered as his tongue grazed William's lips, their mouths lingering inches from each other.

"John, I love you." William whimpered, his vulnerability viciously crawling its way out. "You're the love of my life." He finally professed.

John pulled away, his whole soul radiating from within. The vestiges of his illness rinsed away before William's eyes.

"I waited my whole life to hear that," John stated.

And inside his soulmate's eyes, William finally understood how strong his love for John could be. And then, those faithful words echoed inside his head.

"If you're here... it means you already made the choice...But... You'll have to understand why you made it."

"All these years wasted..." William stuttered, dropping his head down as tears plunged down his cheeks.

But suddenly, he felt John's hand grab his chin and lift it. His brother, his soulmate and the love of his life, was there to greet him with a lenient smile.

"Then let's make up for the lost time. Let's love each other..." John proposed.

"Like we were meant to," William added as their smiles met.

John paused, his expression shifting.

"Stand up," he uttered. William smirked, excited for what was to come. Now, take your clothes off," he ordered. William kicked his shoes off to the side, a particular urgency in him. But rushing things wasn't in John's plans. "Slowly," the raven hunk demanded with the calmest and most profound tone.

William froze, his heart beating faster as John's gaze began to shred through his shell, uncovering his true nature. It only took one look.

William began to open his shirt, his fingers plucking one button at a time, slowly unveiling his chest. It wasn't as smooth as John remembered, the golden fuzz now filling the space between the pecs before dissipating outwards. William was also bulkier, his slimmer physique now overtaken by a powerful, muscular man. The blonde hunk pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the ground, exposing his flawless physique, which immediately began to tease John's cock. He could feel it pulsating and slowly engorging inside his robe. William's hands began to skate along his torso, with John's eyes following his every move. And with each inch of skin his fingers plundered, he was helping John remember. He unbuckled his belt and pulled the waistband of his pants down, his hard 11-inch cock pushing through his white undies. John smiled, allowing William to slide them down, finally unveiling himself.

"Are you nervous?" John questioned, his cock throbbing and his eyes glistening with emotion. William's lips stretched, and his head tilted slightly to the side in the most adorable way.

"Not this time." The blonde hunk whispered as the light coming from the balcony descended over his naked body, turning his pale complexion into the most beautiful silver gray.

"You're exactly as I remembered," John mumbled. "Perfect." He declared in awe.

As he stared at his brother, John learned that the cunning, sharp, and incredibly wise young boy he once knew still resided inside this mature man. So, he peeled away his robe and stretched his arm, welcoming William into his lap.

John fucked William with searing passion that night. A passion only rivaled by their first night together. And William relinquished his body to the only man ever to gaze at the magnificence of his vulnerability. Overwhelmingly rare, a gift bestowed as a token of the most profound adoration. They loved each other, their bodies surrendering to every second of it, determined to make up for all the moments they had missed over the years.

And after two hours of the softest, tender, most disarming, and intimate lovemaking of their lives, their tired bodies collapsed over each other, laying in bed, facing one another as their hands held in a tight grip.

"I don't want to lose you, John. I can't." William whispered, his voice faltering. Every inch of that once cold, stone-hearted man stripped down to a thin layer of who he once was. And in John's eyes, the reflection of who he was meant to be.

"You won't. I'll always be with you, and I'll always be around," John whispered back.

"You promise?" William prayed.

"I promise," John swore.

They exchanged vows of eternal love inside the prophetic white silk sky that shielded their souls. A love unbound by time and space. That night, John's words gave William the hope he needed. Because he knew that even in death, his brother would keep his promise.

John C. Wilde passed away peacefully in his sleep three days later. Nestled inside William's embrace.

Those three days were the happiest of William's life.

 

[6 months later]

"What's wrong?" Lucas questioned as he looked at Bo, who stared back at him perturbed, his hand dropping his phone in his lap.

"That was Aibee. He's been missing for 3 weeks." The stud informed.

"What do you mean?" Lucas questioned, their expressions suddenly matching. They had sat in their car in the airport parking lot for over 15 minutes, dumbfounded by William's unexpected disappearance.

"After the funeral, he met with the lawyers. He signed a living inheritance. Some of the money was transferred to one of his accounts. Then he just vanished into thin air." Bo replied, chuckling nervously.

"Hmm..." Lucas mumbled, reclining in his chair. I think I have an idea," he uttered, signaling Bo to start the car.

About one hour later, they parked in front of the beach house.

Inside the house, everything seemed just as it always was. The beds had clean sheets, the fridge was empty, and there was no trace of William's presence. They scoured the house, rummaging through every nook and cranny with no lead on his whereabouts.

"He didn't take anything...not even a piece of clothing," Lucas said as he closed William's large wardrobe sliding doors, sporting a puzzled tone before finally turning to Bo. "I don't think he's coming back," he added.

They walked down the stairs into the living room, and Bo strolled to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Lucas was about to follow him when he suddenly stopped. His eyes latched on an oil painting hanging above the record player.

"I wonder..." Lucas whispered, approaching the wall and carefully pulling the frame out. Behind it, a built-in metal safe was hidden.

"Pfff...you're never going to get that opened," Bo jested, leaning against the living room doorway as he chugged his water bottle.

Lucas stretched his index finger out and punched an 8-digit code into it. Seconds later, a soft click broke from inside, the door gently sliding open.

"Da fuck." Bo exclaimed.

"Before we left, while you talked to Uncle John, he gave me the code," he explained, glancing back at Bo, who frowned. "In case anything happened, he said," Lucas stated, turning to the wall and opening the safe's door.

Inside was an old vinyl record and a leather file folder, which Lucas proceeded to pull out. He opened it, lingering for a moment as he read it. He could hear Bo's anxious feet tapping against the wooden floor.

"So?" The stud questioned impatiently.

"He left me in charge of everything," Lucas mumbled.

"Well...that's not really breaking news," Bo replied, walking over to the couch and letting his body fall over it.

Lucas closed the file folder, his green eyes already scouring the safe.

"There's a letter." He informed, noticing a small envelope tucked deeper inside.

"Well...read it," Bo suggested. But Lucas seemed reluctant to, and after a few seconds, the boy turned to face his brother, a soft smirk on his lips.

"It's...not for me." He revealed, extending his arm.

Bo paused, his deep, dark eyes staring at the white envelope. He leaned forward and gently pulled it from Lucas' hand. He turned it around to find his name written on the back, with William's signature handwriting. And that was all it took to get his heart racing. He slid his finger under the corner and ripped the top off, pulling the folded paper from inside.

"My sweet Bo,

By the time you read this, I'll be gone. Hopefully, somewhere new and exciting, trying to find whatever is left of who I once was. Maybe I'll follow my mother's advice and try to keep my heart open this time.

But I wanted you to know how much you meant to me. You were the light in my darkest moments and the joy in my saddest. My saving grace. And I will forever be grateful for those beautiful moments we shared.

You really are your father's son. He was the kindest, most beautiful, compassionate, and loyal man. And I know, like him, you would rather die than break an oath.

Which is why I'm setting you free, just as you once asked me to. I only ask one thing in return. One final promise. Never let go of what you and Lucas share. Respect it. Embrace it. Love your brother, as brothers are meant to be loved.

I'm leaving you half of everything I own, along with my most prized possession. Make good use of it.

Love,

William

A sudden sob broke from Bo's mouth as he tossed the letter over the table, the paper now completely smudged in his tears. As Lucas rushed to hold him, his trembling body fell into his brother's. But gradually, his tears turned into joyous laughter, filled with nothing but beautiful memories.

In a final act of compassion, William gifted Bo with an incalculable treasure: to know that he had been loved, after all.

The stud slowly pulled away, stood up, and walked to the safe, his fingers still rubbing the tears off his eyelids. He pulled the old vinyl from inside and opened the glass lid of the record player, carefully placing the disk over it. He moved the needle and smiled. And as he turned around to face Lucas, music began to play.

(Music playing in the background)
"Some day, when I'm awfully low,
When the world is cold,
I will feel a glow just thinking of you,
And the way you look tonight."

Bo stretched his hand, inviting his brother to dance. Lucas chuckled, his pale cheeks reddening with embarrassment. As he grabbed Bo, the stud pulled him up, their bodies bumping together. Lucas' arms crawled around Bo's neck, taking hold of it as they kissed softly before their foreheads finally coasted together.

(Music playing in the background)
"Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm
And your cheeks so soft,
There is nothing for me but to love you,
And the way you look tonight."

Their chests merged, and they wavered there, dancing to the rhythm of William and John's love song.

(Music playing in the background)
"With each word your tenderness grows,
Tearing my fear apart,
And that laugh that wrinkles your nose,
It touches my foolish heart."

"Will it always be like this?" Lucas whispered, his head dipping into Bo's chest, the stud's heart pulsating inside his ear.

"Yes." Bo softly stated with overwhelming certainty.

"How do you know?" Lucas questioned.

"Because...I have a promise to keep." Bo answered, holding his brother's head with his hand, his presence steering away Lucas's doubts.

(Music playing in the background)
"Lovely, Never, ever change.
Keep that breathless charm.
Won't you please arrange it?
Cause I love you, Just the way you look tonight."

Lucas smiled, his eyes glistening with sentiment as his head rested on his brother's warm chest. And he felt his soul finally fill with contentment and fulfillment.

Because he knew, with all his heart, that Bo meant it.

 

[A few months later]

"Can you get me another dry martini?" Nora requested, sitting on one of the sunbeds near the pool.

The once vibrant Wilde household was now a shadow of its former self. Everything had become neglected. The pool had turned green, the grass grew untamed, and most rooms were locked, with no one to occupy them but the mold blots. With William's disappearance and Lucas' new modern and progressive direction for the family businesses, the court of public opinion, specifically the conservative circles, had deemed Nora a "persona non grata." At her request and in a forgiving gesture on his part, Lucas had allowed her to remain in the house, providing her with a symbolic allowance. Not nearly enough for her to maintain her former lavish lifestyle. As such, she was forced to cut down on staff and maintenance. And as time moved on, the few remaining servants left except for one.

"There's not much left. Maybe enough for two more," Aibeleen replied from the other end of the bog-looking water.

"Didn't Lucas bring some the last time he was here?" Nora questioned, embarrassed.

"I think he forgot, Mam," Aibeleen responded, her hands crossing over her belly.

"I see..." Nora uttered, her glistening eyes hidden behind her huge sunglasses. "They think they can break me by
leaving me alone. Loneliness doesn't scare me..." She commented as if trying to garner the attention of a packed room. But as she looked around, she realized there was no one to convince. "...You may as well join me, Aibeleen," Nora suggested reluctantly.

"Are you sure, mam?" Aibee questioned, squinting.

"Yes..." Nora assured. Aibee could feel Nora's underlying plea as her loneliness screamed from under her cold facade. Aibee walked up the steps to the house, and a few minutes later, she was sitting down, their glasses skimming together in a toast.

"I noticed Miss Agatha stopped visiting," Aibee commented, her soothing voice opening a doorway between them.

"They all did. They didn't come here for me. They came here for the money, Aibeleen." Nora explained, chuckling sarcastically before her faux smile melted into a soulless expression. "I know Lucas has been trying to get you to go live with them," she commented.

"Yes," Aibee confirmed, her eyes on Nora.

"Why haven't you?" Nora asked.

"I thought you might appreciate some company...mam," Aibeleen answered. Nora stammered, turning her face to the side. But even then, Aibee could see her lips trembling. There was a brief silence before she finally composed herself. Then she turned, pulling her sunglasses off and revealing her glistening dark eyes.

"How long have you worked in this house, Aibeleen?" She asked.

"53 years, mam." Aibee disclosed proudly.

"53 years...my God," Nora uttered. Aibeleen noticed her fingers nervously fidgeting with the fabric of her skirt. Well...tell me a little bit about your life, Aibee... to keep me distracted..." She muttered, her voice weakening as she finally opened up.

Aibee smiled and began to speak about her life. They stayed there the entire afternoon, with Nora's unwilling giggles starting to fill the void left around her.

[2 years later - Somewhere in the south of France]

"Can I get five diet vodkas, please?" The attractive young man ordered as he pushed his chiseled stomach against the 5-star beach bar counter. "Five...with tray..." He mimicked, his arms flailing around at the waiter, who looked at him from the other side, his whole face shrugging.

"Cinq vodkas light pour la table douze. Le groupe bruyant à l'arrière." A deep voice worded from two chairs down.

"Oui, monsieur William." The bartender replied, smiling.

"Thank you, Renier." William graciously expressed before glancing at the young man. He took the Cuban out of his mouth and lowered his glasses, his emerald eyes inspecting the stud.

"Thanks." The young man uttered, awkwardly lifting his hand in greeting before brushing his beautifully lush raven hair away from his face, his naturally tanned complexion and thick beard being touched by the sunlight.

"Are you enjoying your stay?" William asked.

"Yeah. I'm with a group of friends," the stud said, pointing to a particularly loud table in the back.

"I know. I've heard them." William countered, turning to face the bar again.

"Do you live here?" The young man questioned, fidgeting as he leaned further into the counter, desperately trying to keep the blonde hunk's face in his line of sight. William smirked, knowing full well what was about to happen.

"I live in my boat." He responded.

"Where's your boat?" the stud asked. William took the cigar to his mouth and blew the largest cloud of smoke into the air before swirling his chair and pointing at the colossal yacht stationed at the dock. "Jesus..." the young man mumbled, his chin slightly dropping.

"I'm..." William introduced, extending his hand in greeting.

"William, I heard." The stud interrupted, trying not to look at William's intimidating, verdant gaze, which seemed to drill a hole through his forehead. Aren't you going to invite me on your boat, William?" he suggested, his chest punching forward recklessly. William chuckled, his perfect whites finally showing as he stretched his lips into the most alluring smile.

"Are you bringing your loud friends with you?" He teased.

"No..." The stud mumbled. His focus was now on William, hooked on his charming presence like an addict.

"That's Good. I usually take it out around 7 a.m. Don't be late," the blonde hunk said, standing up.

"Don't worry, I'll be there." The young man immediately answered, following William with his eyes as he unhurriedly walked away. But as he was about to leave, the blonde stud halted, turning back.

"Hey...you never told me your name?" William asked.

"I'm John." The young man replied.

A breath of air flew from William's lungs, bursting out of his nose. He felt his body stumble forward momentarily before he swiftly regained his footing.

"Will you be around later tonight, John?" He questioned.

"Oh...I'm always around." John replied, stepping into the light and allowing William to notice his green gaze for the first time, glowing excitedly at him.

William smiled, turned around, and walked down the beach, his bare feet punching the warm, velvety sand. As his eyes set on the horizon, a delicate whisper hauled by the ocean's breeze echoed through him.

"What God writes, no man scribbles."

THE END