Somewhere Only We Know - 30. The Call

The late afternoon light slanted low across Riverbend as Kitt stepped out of the diner, the bell chiming faintly behind him. The note the waitress had given him—Matt’s number scrawled in blue ink—felt like it burned through his pocket. His heart thudded unevenly, breath thin, each step carrying the weight of a thousand memories and one impossible question:

What now?

He walked without aim, letting the streets guide him. The town blurred—small stores, shuttered windows, the humming traffic on the main road. It wasn’t until he smelled the wet leaves and the faint sweetness of the nearby food trucks that he realized he was heading toward the park. His feet had chosen for him.

The park was quieter than usual. A few kids tossed a football on the field; someone walked a dog across the footpath; a couple sat on the far bench sharing fries. And under a dim streetlamp, sitting on the bench with his legs stretched out and a convenience-store pastry in hand, was Andy.

Andy saw him first.

He straightened, blinking once before grinning in recognition.

“Look who wandered back,” he called, waving him over. “Haven’t seen you in a bit. Thought you moved out of this dump.”

Kitt managed a small smile and walked over. “Still here.”

Andy tilted his head. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost. Or, like… three ghosts.”

Kitt let out a shaky breath. “Something like that.”

Andy shifted his bag aside, leaving room for him on the bench. “Sit. I’m off the clock. Not waiting for anyone yet.”

Kitt sat, hands clasped between his knees. The air smelled like early winter, like damp leaves and metal.

“So,” Andy said, chewing another bite of his pastry. “You disappear for weeks, and then you show up looking wrecked. What’s up?”

Kitt stared ahead at the fading sky. “I… found something today.”

“I should hope it wasn’t a body,” Andy muttered. “This park’s sketchy but not that sketchy.”

Kitt huffed a humorless laugh. “No. A note. From someone I—someone I used to be close with.”

Andy’s eyes flicked sideways, assessing without pressure. “Ah. Love trouble.”

Kitt swallowed. Hard.

“Something like that.”

His throat tightened again. For a moment he couldn’t breathe around it. Not until Andy nudged his shoulder lightly.

“Listen,” Andy said, softer now. “You want to talk about him? Or do you want me to pretend he doesn’t exist and distract you with stories of my tragic life choices?”

Kitt hesitated… then nodded.

“He looked for me,” he whispered. “All this time. From the beginning.”

Andy’s brow lifted. “And… that’s bad?”

“I don’t know,” Kitt murmured. “It hurts. It feels… big. It makes me feel happy but also sad. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.”

Andy leaned back against the bench. “Sometimes big things hurt. No pun intended.”

Kitt couldn’t help but laughed a bit. “You said the exact same thing as my friend.”

“I bet he has a good sense of humor, then.”

“He does.”

Silence stretched between them. Comfortable enough.

After a moment Andy said, “You know, I honestly didn’t think you’d still be in Riverbend. Thought you’d run off to the city, or transferred somewhere bigger.”

“Transferred?” Kitt frowned.

Andy gestured with his pastry. “Yeah. To the university. Maybe My university. You remember — I told you I’m a college student.”

Kitt nodded automatically. “Right. I just… didn’t think you’d still have time for all of this.”

Andy snorted. “Please. I may sell my time to lonely men, but I’m not stupid — and I’m not dropping out either. I juggle both.”

Kitt’s cheeks warmed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Andy said, softer this time. “Relax. I’m not offended.” Then, leaning back, he added, “It’s a good school. Hard, but good. I like it. Makes me feel like I’m actually building toward something instead of… y’know.”

Kitt knew. The park. The hustling. The night boys drifting like shadows between streetlamps.

“What are you studying?” he asked quietly.

“Graphic design,” Andy said. “Might switch to digital art. Not sure yet. You thinking of school too?”

Kitt’s chest tightened. “Yeah. I was. Before everything.”

Andy looked at him for a long moment. “Then maybe you still are.”

Kitt didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

He told Andy—carefully edited—about the boy he left behind, about the dreams they had shared, about the silent ache that had been growing inside him since the moment he stepped into Riverbend.

Andy listened without interrupting, the neon light from the convenience store casting faint color across his cheekbones.

When Kitt finished, Andy let out a low whistle.

“Damn,” he said softly. “That boy sounds like he loves you a lot. Like really a lot.”

Kitt shut his eyes. “I know.”

“So why does that scare you?”

Kitt’s breath trembled. “Because if I let myself go back… if I let myself see him… I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to leave again. And I’m not ready to walk back into that house. Not yet. Not while everything still feels so… unfinished inside me.”

Andy studied him for a long moment. “So it’s not him you’re unsure of.”

Kitt shook his head. “No. It’s me. And home. And everything waiting there.”

Andy exhaled slowly. Then, with a surprising gentleness, he placed a hand on Kitt’s shoulder.

“You know why I’m still here, blondie?” he said quietly. “Why I’m still doing this crap at nights and taking two classes at a time?”

Kitt shook his head.

“Because nobody ever came looking for me.”

Kitt’s eyes snapped open.

Andy’s gaze held steady—open, honest, unembarrassed.

“If someone crossed a whole damn town for you,” Andy said, “if he looked for months… don’t run from that forever.”

Kitt’s breath broke on a small, shaky inhale.

“You think I should go back?” he asked.

“I think,” Andy replied, squeezing his shoulder once, “that you already know what you want. You’re just scared.”

He stood then, brushing crumbs from his hands.

“I gotta head out,” he said lightly. “Client’s waiting near the basketball court. But hey—don’t be a stranger. And don’t get lost in your head too much.”

He winked, slung his bag over his shoulder, and strode into the dimming park.

Kitt stayed on the bench long after he was gone.

The sky bled from pale orange to charcoal gray. Wind rustled through the trees. A couple walked past laughing. Somewhere across the park, music thumped faintly from someone’s speakers.

He didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

He stared at the ground until the streetlamps flickered on, one by one, casting long shadows.

Then he heard footsteps approaching.

A man—maybe late twenties, maybe older—it was hard to tell under the streetlamp’s sickly glow—walked toward him with a small, practiced smile.

“You working tonight?” the man asked casually.

Kitt stiffened. “No. I—I’m not.”

The man stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You sure? I could make it worth your time.”

Kitt’s pulse spiked. “I’m not—”

“Twenty bucks,” the man said, tone edged with impatience. “Quick. Let me blow you. You don’t have to do anything, just enjoy it.”

Kitt felt his face hot. He shot to his feet so fast the bench scraped.

“I—I have to go.”

“Hey—”

But he was already backing away, heart hammering, shaking his head. He turned, almost stumbling over a tree root, and hurried toward the street as fast as his legs could carry him.

He didn’t stop until the park was far behind him, the cold wind burning his lungs, the streetlight glow pulling him back toward something that felt safer, cleaner, real.

He pressed a trembling hand to his pocket.

Matt’s number was still there.

And now, more than ever, Kitt knew—

He couldn’t run forever.

Not from Matt.

Not from himself.

Not anymore.

By the time he shoved open the door to his building and stumbled up the narrow stairwell, his hands were shaking so hard he could barely press his palm to the railing. His heart hammered like a trapped thing, refusing to slow even when he reached the hallway and leaned against the wall outside his room.

He squeezed his eyes shut.
He had seen men in the park before.
He had survived worse nights in Riverbend.
But tonight the fear came from somewhere deeper — a fear of what he might become if he ever let desperation take over. A fear that maybe part of him understood why people chose that path. A fear that he was one slip away from losing himself entirely.

The thought made him sick.

He went to the third floor and knocked softly on Mateo’s door.

The door creaked open a moment later. Mateo stood there, hair messy, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, holding a mug of instant hot chocolate. His expression shifted instantly when he saw Kitt’s face.

“What happened?” Mateo asked, stepping aside so Kitt could enter.

Kitt shook his head, but his voice betrayed him. “Just… someone. At the park.”

Mateo’s jaw tightened. “Again?”

“Yeah,” Kitt whispered. “It was my fault. I was lost in thought and stayed too late.”

Mateo set the mug down and sat beside him on the bed without touching him, like he knew Kitt needed space first. “Tell me.”

Kitt stared at his hands. “He offered me money. To… you know.”

“No, I don’t. To what?”

“He said he’d blow me for twenty bucks.”

Mateo cursed softly in Spanish and leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. God, Kitt. I’m so sorry. This place—this town—sometimes it’s…”

“It’s not the town,” Kitt murmured. “It’s me. I shouldn’t have been there again. I shouldn’t have—”

“Stop.” Mateo nudged his knee gently. “Nothing that happened was your fault.”

Maybe.
Maybe not.
Kitt couldn’t decide.

Silence settled heavy over the room.

After a long moment, he whispered, “Can I borrow your phone?”

Mateo blinked. “Now?”

Kitt nodded, fingers twisting in his hoodie sleeves. “I… I need to call someone.”

Mateo studied him for half a second, eyes narrowing like he already knew exactly who that someone was.
He didn’t say it.
He just handed over his phone.

Kitt held it like it was alive.

The waitress’s words from the diner earlier that day replayed in his head — That boy was looking for you. He left this for you.
Weeks.
Months ago.
The moment everything broke apart.

Kitt’s throat tightened.
If he didn’t call now, he might never call at all.

He dialed the number from memory.

The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times—

“Hello?”

Matt’s voice hit him like a physical blow — warm, steady, familiar, and full of something he hadn’t heard in months: hope.

Kitt’s breath stuttered. “Matt…”

There was a sharp inhale. “Kitt? Is that—Kitt, is that really you?”

Mateo stood quietly by the doorway, face softening as Kitt buried his face in his hand, shoulders shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Kitt whispered into the phone. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

“No,” Matt said, voice breaking. “Don’t—don’t apologize. Just… I can’t believe it’s you. I’ve been waiting for you, Kitt. Every day. You don’t know how scared I’ve been.”

Kitt’s chest hurt. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more than anything.”

Kitt closed his eyes. “I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know how to come back. Or what to say. Or how to face what happened.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Matt murmured. “Just hearing your voice is enough.”

Kitt swallowed hard. “I heard something today. At the diner. The waitress said you… left your number. Months ago.”

“Yeah,” Matt whispered. “I did.”

“And then at Javier’s? Why, Matt?” Kitt’s voice cracked. “Why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you give up on me?”

Matt’s answer came without hesitation. “Because I love you.”

Kitt pressed a hand to his mouth, tears hot against his skin. “Matt…”

“You don’t have to say it back,” Matt said quickly. “Not if you’re not ready.”

Kitt breathed in slowly, shakily. “I am ready. I’ve always been ready. I just… didn’t know if I deserved you.”

“You always have.”

Silence wrapped around them, thick and trembling.

“Kitt?” Matt asked softly.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something else. Your dad came to our house.”

Kitt froze.

“He apologized. To me. To my parents. He asked for help finding you.”

“And did you…?”

“No. I didn’t tell him anything.” Matt’s voice was firm, protective. “I won’t tell him until you’re ready.”

Kitt wiped his face. “I don’t know if I can go back.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” Matt murmured. “You only have to decide if you want to see me.”

Kitt let out a trembling breath. “I do.”

“When?”

“I’m off Wednesday.” His voice shook. “All day.”

Matt didn’t hesitate. “I can go there.”

“No, let’s meet there instead. I’ll take the bus there and will arrive sometime in the afternoon. But I can’t let anybody see me.”

Matt understood right away. “Our place.”

Kitt’s heart squeezed. “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too,” Kitt whispered, voice raw and steady at the same time. “I always have.”

The breath that shuddered through the phone was almost a sob. “I love you too.”

They stayed on the line for another long moment, neither wanting to end it, both overwhelmed by the fact that they were finally here — talking, choosing, reaching for each other again.

When Kitt finally lowered the phone, Mateo didn’t speak. He simply stepped forward and pulled Kitt into a long, steady hug — not possessive, not jealous, just the kind of friend who held you together when you couldn’t quite do it alone.

“You okay?” he murmured.

Kitt nodded into his shoulder. “Yeah. I think… I think I will be.”

Mateo squeezed him tighter. “Good. Because I’ve never seen you look like that before. Like someone finally opened the door you’ve been pounding on for months.”

Kitt let out a shaky laugh. “Maybe they did.”

Mateo smiled softly. “Wednesday, huh?”

Kitt nodded.

Mateo patted his back. “Then you better get some sleep. You have a big day coming.”

. . .

Wednesday arrived with a sky the color of pale silver, thin sunlight drifting through morning frost as if the world were holding its breath. Riverbend was quiet at that hour. Dew clung to the grass, and Kitt’s breath misted as he stepped off the bus and onto the familiar gravel path leading toward the lake that had shaped half his childhood.

Every step made his pulse thrum harder.

He walked slowly, not because he wanted to delay the moment, but because the weight of it settled over him with every footfall. The trees thinned. The air cooled. The water came into view — smooth, dark, still.

Their lake.

The same one where they had jumped off the dock when they were thirteen.
Where Matt pushed him in and apologized by cannonballing after him.
Where they had stayed after sunset, talking until their bodies went numb from the cold.
Where they made promises they pretended were jokes.
Where they let their shoulders press together just a little too long.

Where everything had begun, long before either of them understood what it was.

Kitt stopped at the edge of the clearing.

Matt was already there.

He stood on the far end of the dock, hands in his pockets, head bowed as if he had been staring into the water for hours. He looked broader than Kitt remembered — taller, stronger, shoulders filling out the navy hoodie he wore. His hair was just a little longer than before, wind-ruffled, catching faint glints of gold from the pale autumn sun. And when he lifted his head—

Kitt felt the world tilt.

Matt froze mid-breath, eyes widening in a way Kitt had never seen. Pure shock. Pure relief. Pure disbelief.

“Kitt,” he breathed, name falling from his lips like a prayer.

Kitt’s throat tightened. He stepped forward slowly at first, then faster, until his feet hit the wooden planks of the dock and carried him straight into Matt’s arms.

Matt caught him instantly, arms wrapping around his body with a force that nearly knocked them both backward. Kitt pressed his face into Matt’s chest, breathing in a scent he’d missed so fiercely it hurt — warm, familiar, like home after a long exile.

Matt’s fingers slid into his hair, holding him like he was terrified the world might take him away again.

“I thought—” Matt choked, voice breaking. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Kitt clutched the back of Matt’s hoodie, arms trembling around his waist. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Matt.”

Matt shook his head fiercely. “Don’t apologize. Please don’t. Just—God, let me look at you.”

He pulled back just enough to take Kitt’s face in his hands. His thumb brushed lightly over Kitt’s cheekbone, tracing the new sharpness there — not unhealthy, but different. Older. Tougher. And when Matt’s gaze swept over him, it wasn’t pity he saw. It was awe.

“You’ve changed,” Matt whispered. “You look… stronger.”

Kitt let out a fragile exhale. “You have too.”

Matt huffed a wet laugh. “Yeah. Coach says I’m built like a truck now.”

Kitt shook his head. “Not that.” His eyes softened. “You look… steady. Like you’re holding yourself together even when everything around you isn’t.”

Matt swallowed hard, thumb pausing at the corner of Kitt’s mouth, tracing the curve of a smile that hadn’t been there for months. “Only because I kept hoping I’d see you again.”

Kitt felt something in his chest tremble — a trembling he didn’t fight this time.

Their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the soft cold. For the first time since running away, Kitt felt warmth settling inside him instead of fear.

“I love you,” Kitt whispered again, softer this time. “I meant it.”

Matt’s breath shuddered out of him, and he cupped the back of Kitt’s neck with one hand, pulling him just close enough that their noses brushed.

“Can I—?” Matt whispered.

Kitt nodded before the question finished.

Their lips touched — soft at first, barely a question. But Kitt answered it immediately, leaning in, fingers sliding up Matt’s chest to his shoulders. Matt kissed him again, deeper this time, his hand cradling the back of Kitt’s neck, guiding him closer until their bodies pressed together from chest to knee.

Kitt let out a quiet sound into Matt’s mouth — small, involuntary, shattering — and Matt exhaled sharply, kissing him harder. The world narrowed to heat and breath and the sweet, aching familiarity of Matt’s mouth against his.

Months of wanting, months of missing, months of pain spilled into the space between their lips.

The kiss broke only because Kitt needed air, but Matt chased him, pressing smaller kisses along his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his jaw, like he couldn’t stop himself.

“Matt,” Kitt whispered, shivering. “Slow down—”

Matt froze instantly, forehead pressed to Kitt’s. “Too much?”

“No,” Kitt breathed, his fingers sliding up into Matt’s hair. “Not enough.”

Matt’s breath hitched.

The dock creaked as Matt walked them backward toward the shadowed corner near the old ladder, pulling Kitt with him until their backs were hidden from the path and lake. Matt’s hands slid to Kitt’s waist, gripping gently as Kitt reached up and kissed him again — deeper, longer, bolder. Matt let out a low sound Kitt had never heard from him before, something that made his whole body warm.

Kitt’s hands tugged Matt’s hoodie upward, not to take it off, but just to feel him — his warmth, the steady flex of muscle beneath cotton. Matt shuddered, kissing him harder, his thumb stroking just under Kitt’s ribs through his shirt.

“Kitt…” Matt murmured against his mouth, voice low, “I want—”

Kitt swallowed. “I know.”

They kissed again — slow and messy and hungry. Matt’s hands slid under the hem of Kitt’s shirt, fingers tracing the warm skin of his lower back. Kitt arched into him, breath catching. Matt pulled him closer until there was no space left between them, their bodies pressed fully together, heat spreading from everywhere they touched.

“Kitt, tell me to stop if—”

Kitt cut him off with another kiss, deeper than before. “I don’t want you to stop.”

The wind shifted as Kitt leaned into Matt’s kiss, and something inside him gave way—softly at first, then all at once. The months of distance, longing, fear, and ache poured straight into Matt’s mouth. Matt kissed him back with a hunger that wasn’t rough, but sure, like he had been holding himself back for too long.

Kitt slid his hands up Matt’s chest, under the fabric, feeling heat and muscle and the shiver that ran through Matt’s body. Matt groaned softly against his lips, a sound so low it went straight through Kitt, making his breath catch.

“Kitt,” Matt whispered, forehead pressed to his, “tell me to slow down if—”

“Don’t slow down,” Kitt breathed.

That was all it took.

Matt kissed him deeper, backing him gently toward the shadowed corner of the dock, hands at Kitt’s waist, fingers slipping beneath his shirt. Kitt’s breath hitched—Matt exhaled shakily—and then they were pulling each other closer with something like urgency and reverence tangled together.

Their hands wandered.
Slowly.
Curiously.
Learning warmth and softness and the places that made the other gasp.

Matt’s lips moved from Kitt’s mouth to his jaw, then lower, tracing along his throat in a line of heat that made Kitt arch into him with a quiet, helpless sound. Matt smiled against his skin, the kind of smile that said this was something he had dreamed of and feared he’d never have.

Kitt’s fingers trembled as he touched Matt in return—shy at first, then bolder as Matt’s breath broke against his ear in a way that made Kitt feel powerful, wanted, needed.

Their touches grew slower, more certain.

Kitt felt Matt’s forehead drop to his shoulder as he exhaled a soft, unsteady, “God, Kitt…”

The rest blurred into heat and breath and whispered pleas for more, the kind of closeness they had imagined separately a hundred times and were now discovering together—carefully, tenderly, with mouths and hands and hearts finally allowed to speak the same language.

The dock creaked beneath them.
The lake held their reflections.
The world narrowed to touch, to warmth, to the rhythm of two boys giving in to everything they had held back for years.

Nothing graphic.
Nothing crude.
Just slow, trembling exploration—an unspoken promise becoming real.

And when it was over—when the shadows softened and their breathing steadied—they lay side by side on the dock, Kitt’s head on Matt’s shoulder, Matt’s hand tangled with his.

Matt turned and brushed a soft kiss to Kitt’s temple, their bodies still warm and close.

“You okay?” Matt whispered.

Kitt nodded, voice barely there. “I’ve never been better.”

Matt smiled, thumb brushing Kitt’s cheek. “Me neither.”

Kitt leaned into him, letting the sound of the water settle around them.

He had never felt more fully seen.
More fully chosen.
More fully loved.