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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
This story contains themes of incest. They are part of the narrative but not the whole story, nor are they meant to glorify or promote any sort of sexual behavior in any way, shape, or form. Despite being a work of fiction, if these themes are in any way triggering to you, I suggest you do not proceed with this particular story.

Man Up! - 3. "Underwater"

(10 years earlier)

The morning sun stretched lazily over the weathered brick facade of the school that loomed like a fortress before Caleb. The building seemed impossibly tall to his eight-year-old eyes, its towering windows reflecting flashes of light that danced and shimmered as if mocking his hesitation. He stood frozen at the gate, a small figure weighed down not just by the oversized backpack slung awkwardly across his narrow shoulders but by the knot tightening in his stomach. His green eyes darted nervously between the clusters of children gathered in the yard beyond the gate. Their laughter rang out in bursts, high-pitched and carefree. To Caleb, it sounded less like an invitation and more like chaos, each shout a reminder of how alien this place felt.

He gripped the straps of his too-big backpack tighter, his knuckles whitening under the strain. The bag had been a hand-me-down, its faded blue fabric sagging under the weight of books far heavier than they should have been. One strap kept slipping off his shoulder, and he adjusted it absently, though his thoughts were elsewhere.

The longer he stood there, the more overwhelming it all became. The sea of faces beyond the gate blurred, their movements erratic and unpredictable. A boy darted past chasing a soccer ball, nearly colliding with a group of girls skipping rope. Caleb took an instinctive step back, his sneakers scraping against the gravel beneath him. He wanted to go home, not later, not after trying to push through this day, right now.

"Hey, kiddo," came a voice behind him, sharp enough to cut through his spiraling thoughts but warm enough to anchor him.

Caleb turned slowly, already knowing who it was. His father's car sat idling just a few feet away, the rust creeping along its edges. Nate leaned out of the driver's side window, one arm casually draped over the edge like he had all the time in the world. His hair was tousled from wind or neglect, it was hard to tell, and his sharp eyes were fixed on Caleb with an intensity that made it impossible for him to look away.

"Don't just stand there like a statue," Nate added, raising an eyebrow as if daring Caleb to argue. His voice carried that unmistakable tone when he meant business, firm and unyielding, but something softer was underneath it, too. Something Caleb couldn't name but felt all the same.

"I don't want to go," Caleb muttered, his voice so quiet it barely rose above the hum of the schoolyard behind him.

Nate frowned slightly, his jaw tightening as though holding back whatever immediate response had come to mind. Instead, he sighed, a long exhale that carried equal parts frustration and patience, and pushed open the creaky car door with a groan of metal.

As Nate stepped out, his boots crunched against the ground with deliberate weight. He moved with purpose, each stride measured and steady as he closed the distance between them. When he reached Caleb, he crouched slowly until their faces were leveled. The movement was fluid, like someone who had done this countless times before and knew exactly what needed to be said or perhaps what didn't.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" Nate asked, his voice quieter now but no less firm. His hands found their way to Caleb's shoulders, broad palms resting there gently but securely, anchoring him in place.

Caleb hesitated, staring down at his worn sneakers as if they might somehow offer an escape from answering. A small pebble caught his eye near his toe, and he nudged it with the tip of his shoe as though testing its resistance. "Nobody's gonna like me," he mumbled, barely loud enough for Nate to catch.

For a moment, Nate didn't respond. He just studied Caleb's face, the slight downturn of his mouth, the furrowed brow that seemed too heavy for such a young boy, and let out another sigh. But this time, it wasn't frustration but something closer to understanding.

"What're you talking about?" Nate said after a beat, his lips curving into a crooked grin that softened the edges of his otherwise stern expression. "I like you just fine."

Caleb glanced up briefly at that, just long enough for Nate to catch a flicker of doubt in those bright green eyes, but quickly dropped his gaze again. Caleb didn't look convinced. If anything, his grip on his backpack straps tightened further until they dug into his tiny hands.

Nate's grin faded, replaced by something harder but no less earnest. He gave Caleb's shoulders a gentle squeeze before speaking again, his tone shifting into something more serious, more urgent.

"Listen to me," he said firmly but not unkindly. "You need to toughen up out here. The world isn't always gonna be nice or fair or easy, Caleb."

"But I have you," Caleb said suddenly, cutting through Nate's words with a quiet conviction that caught him off guard.

For a moment, Nate stared at his son, who believed so completely that nothing bad could happen as long as he was there to prevent it.

"You can't count on that," Nate said eventually, his voice softer now but laced with an edge of something Caleb couldn't quite place, regret, maybe? Or fear? "One day...I won't be here to protect you."

The weight of those words settled heavily on Caleb's small frame. His bottom lip quivered slightly, but he swallowed hard and nodded despite himself.

"Fine," he said at last, though nothing was fine about how hollow it sounded.

"That's my boy," Nate replied with another squeeze before standing up and stepping back toward the car.

With one last look over his shoulder at Nate standing tall by the car, arms crossed and nodding toward the schoolyard, Caleb took a deep breath and stepped through the gates alone.

The school courtyard felt like a foreign land to Caleb. He moved cautiously through the dense sea of unfamiliar faces, each turned away, locked in their own conversations and worlds. He scanned the groups scattered across the courtyard, his gaze lingering on clusters of kids already leaning into each other, sharing inside jokes or trading snacks like currency. Their laughter had a rhythm, a flow that he couldn't quite decipher as if they all spoke a language he didn't know.

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his fingers curling and uncurling nervously against the fabric. His shoulders hunched forward as if trying to make himself smaller, less visible. His eyes darted from one group to another, searching for even the smallest crack in their tightly knit circles where he might slip in unnoticed. But every glance confirmed the same: the spaces between them were closed off, fortified by bonds Caleb wasn't a part of.

His steps faltered as he spotted a group of kids gathered near the swings. Caleb recognized a few of them from his class. Their faces were familiar enough to stir a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance. He hesitated, his feet rooted to the spot as doubt crept in. What if they didn't want him there? What if they laughed at him for even trying? He swallowed hard and took a step forward anyway, then another, each one feeling heavier than the last.

As he approached, his gaze landed on Danny, a broad-shouldered boy with a perpetually smug expression that seemed carved into his face. Danny stood at the group's center like some self-appointed king holding court. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his sharp eyes flicked toward Caleb with an intensity that made him freeze mid-step. The corner of Danny's mouth tugged upward in a smirk. It was predatory, confident in its cruelty.

"Hey, you," Danny called out, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. The group fell silent, their heads swiveling toward Caleb as if he were an intruder who had wandered into forbidden territory. "What do you want?" The question wasn't curious but rather laced with disdain, which made Caleb's stomach churn.

Caleb's heart thudded heavily in his chest, each beat reverberating in his ears like a drum. He forced himself to take another step forward, though every instinct screamed at him to turn around and walk away. "I… I was just wondering if I could hang out with you guys," he said quietly. His words were shaky and uncertain, and he hated how small they sounded.

Danny let out a laugh, a sharp bark that made Caleb flinch. "Hang out? You?" He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over Caleb. The other kids snickered behind him, their laughter like needles pricking at Caleb's skin. Danny glanced back at them with a grin before returning to Caleb. "You don't belong here."

The words hit Caleb like a slap, leaving him momentarily stunned. His hands balled into fists inside his pockets as he tried to swallow the lump rising in his throat. His cheeks burned hot with humiliation, but he kept his head up, refusing to let Danny see how much it hurt.

Before Caleb could muster a response, one of the girls in the group stepped forward. Her shoulder-length brown hair framed her face, and her eyes stood out vividly against her pale skin. Her expression was different. It wasn't mocking or cruel like the others'. It was softer, more thoughtful.

"Danny," she said firmly but calmly. "Cut it out." She turned her gaze toward Caleb and offered him a small smile, an unexpected gesture that caught him off guard. "He's just trying to make friends."

Danny's smirk vanished instantly, replaced by an irritated scowl. He rounded on her with a glare that could have melted steel. "Stay out of this, Emily," he snapped, his tone dripping with venom. "This is none of your business."

Emily held her ground, her chin tilting slightly as she met Danny's glare head-on. "You don't have to be such a jerk about it," she shot back evenly.

But before she could say anything else, or before Caleb could even process what was happening, Danny reached out and shoved him hard in the chest. The force of it sent Caleb stumbling backward. His feet slipped on the wet ground near the swings where rain had pooled into a shallow puddle. Time seemed to slow as he lost his balance and fell with a resounding splash into the muddy water. The cold water soaked through Caleb's clothes instantly, seeping into every fiber and clinging to his skin like ice. He lay there for what felt like an eternity as laughter rang in his ears and shame coursed through him in waves.

"Nice one!" someone shouted from the group.

Caleb clenched his jaw tightly to keep from crying. He wouldn't give them that satisfaction, but tears nonetheless stung at the corners of his eyes.

Then came the rain, soft at first but quickly escalating into a relentless downpour. The courtyard emptied almost immediately as kids scattered for cover under awnings and doorways. Within moments, Caleb was left alone in the puddle under the gray sky as rain pelted down on him mercilessly. He stared up at the swirling clouds above him, their gray edges heavy with more rain yet to fall, and wondered how something so vast could feel just as suffocating as this moment did now.

Eventually, Caleb forced himself to sit up. His palms sank into the cold, sodden earth, the mud oozing between his fingers as he pushed against the ground for support. The rain was relentless, soaking his hair until it plastered against his forehead in unruly strands. His clothes clung to him, the damp fabric pulling at his shoulders and hips, sapping what little warmth was left in his trembling body.

With shaky hands, Caleb wiped at his face, smearing rain and mud across his cheeks in a futile attempt to clear his vision. His arms felt weak, trembling under the effort to push himself upward. He staggered as he rose to his feet, swaying unsteadily. The wet ground squelched beneath his sneakers, threatening to pull him back down with every hesitant step.

For a moment, he stood there, hunched and shivering, staring at the empty expanse of the schoolyard around him. Though no one else was in sight, recess long over, Caleb couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. It wasn't the comforting gaze of someone who cared but rather the cold scrutiny of a nameless, faceless world that seemed content to let him drown in his misery.

Hours later, when the final bell rang and school let out, Caleb found himself standing in the rain again, waiting near the curb for Nate to pick him up. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest as though trying to hold himself together, though it did little to stave off the chill creeping through him.

The rain poured relentlessly now, each droplet slamming against cars and pavement with an unforgiving ferocity. When Nate's car finally pulled up beside him, its headlights cutting through the gloom like twin beacons, Caleb wasted no time sliding into the passenger seat. He winced as his soaked clothes met the leather upholstery with a squelching sound.

Nate turned toward him immediately, his sharp eyes scanning Caleb with an intensity that made him shrink back slightly into the seat.

"What happened?" Nate asked evenly, though an unmistakable edge beneath his calm tone was a quiet anger simmering just below the surface.

Caleb hesitated, staring down at his muddied sneakers. He fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve as if it might distract him from answering. "I… don't want to talk about it," he muttered, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

The rain drummed against the car roof like an unrelenting heartbeat in the silence that followed. Nate's jaw clenched visibly, his teeth grinding together with a faint but audible sound that made Caleb flinch again. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly.

"Who was it?" Nate pressed after a moment, his voice low but carrying an undeniable weight.

Caleb didn't respond right away. His shoulders hunched further as if trying to make himself smaller, to disappear entirely into the seat. He could feel Nate's gaze boring into him even as he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor mats.

"Who?" This time, Nate's voice cracked slightly, not with volume but with something sharper: frustration mixed with barely restrained fury.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Caleb lifted his head. His green eyes were glassy now, shimmering with tears he refused to let fall. He didn't speak. Instead, he turned toward the parking lot outside, where Danny stood beside a pristine white SUV. The boy's father was there too, a tall man with broad shoulders and an easy smile. He ruffled Danny's hair while saying something that made them laugh.

Nate followed Caleb's line of sight until his eyes landed on Danny and his father. His expression darkened instantly.

"Put your seatbelt on," Nate said softly after a long pause. But there was steel in those words, a quiet command that brooked no argument.

Caleb obeyed without hesitation this time, though his hands still trembled as he fumbled with the buckle. The click echoed loudly in the otherwise tense silence of the car cabin. The tires splashed through puddles as Nate eased forward, not hurriedly but deliberately, as though each movement was calculated for maximum effect. Caleb's heart pounded against his ribcage as he risked a glance at Nate's face.

Gone was any trace of warmth or humor that might have been there earlier. What remained was cold determination, a sharp-edged focus that sent shivers down Caleb's spine for reasons entirely unrelated to the rain or cold.

The white SUV eventually pulled into a driveway in a quiet suburban neighborhood lined with tidy lawns and identical houses painted in tedious soft pastels. Nate followed at what might have seemed like a safe distance from anyone else, but Caleb knew better now. This wasn't coincidence or curiosity anymore, it was purpose.

The SUV skidded to a halt at the curb, its tires kicking up a spray of rainwater. Danny shoved the door open before the vehicle had fully settled, his sneakers splashing onto the drenched asphalt. Without a word, he bolted toward the house, his small frame hunched against the relentless downpour. His hood flapped uselessly against his back as he sprinted into the house.

Across the street, Nate pulled the car to a quiet stop. He rested his hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles thinning as his grip tightened. His broad chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths, but each exhale seemed heavier than the last, like a dam barely holding back a flood.

"Wait here," Nate ordered, his voice low and firm. Caleb flinched slightly in the passenger seat but nodded, though Nate didn't look at him to confirm. Without hesitation, Nate pushed open the door and stepped out into the storm. Rain immediately soaked through his dark jacket, plastering it to his robust frame. He moved purposefully, his boots crunching beneath him as he crossed the street.

Caleb leaned forward instinctively, pressing his forehead to the cold glass of the car window. The rain distorted his view, turning everything beyond into a rippling blur. He wiped the fogged-up glass with his sleeve, trying to determine what was happening. His heart thudded in his chest as he spotted Nate approaching Danny's father, rummaging through his SUV's open trunk.

Danny's father straightened up slowly when he noticed Nate's approach. Nate was a tall man with an air of casual confidence that bordered on arrogance. His shoulders were squared, and his chin tilted upward as if daring anyone to challenge him. But Caleb noticed something in his posture shift as Nate got closer: a slight hesitation in how he stood, a flicker of uncertainty.

Nate stopped short of him, close enough for Caleb to see their faces through the rain-smeared glass. There were words exchanged, sharp ones. Nate's hands moved as he spoke, slicing through the air like blades. Even without hearing him, Caleb could feel the intensity radiating from every gesture. Danny's father raised both hands defensively, palms out as if warding off an attack that hadn't yet come.

Before Danny's father could respond, Nate's fist shot forward like lightning breaking across the sky. The impact was brutal and immediate. Danny's father's head snapped to the side as he staggered back against the car. The muffled thud reverberated through Caleb's chest, even from across the street.

He gasped audibly, clapping a hand over his mouth as if to stifle any sound that might give away their presence. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from what was unfolding before him.

Danny's father stumbled but caught himself against the side of the SUV. Another punch landed squarely in Danny's father's midsection, doubling him over with a wheeze of pain. Caleb winced involuntarily but kept watching, frozen in place by horror and morbid fascination.

The fight, or rather, Nate's relentless assault, escalated quickly. Blow after blow rained down on Danny's father until he crumpled to the ground in a sodden heap. The man tried weakly to shield himself at first but soon stopped moving altogether.

"Dad…" Caleb whispered shakily inside the car, though no one could hear him.

Nate stood over Danny's father's motionless form for several long seconds, chest heaving from exertion and adrenaline. Rainwater streamed down his face and dripped from his clenched fists, which were raw and bleeding now. Finally, he turned away without so much as a glance at the man lying unconscious behind him. His strides were measured but heavy as he returned to the car.

Caleb scrambled back into his seat when Nate opened the driver-side door and climbed in. The air inside seemed colder now, or maybe Caleb's trembling made it feel that way. Nate gripped the steering wheel tightly enough that Caleb thought it might snap under the pressure. He stared straight ahead, not saying anything for what felt like an eternity.

When he finally spoke, his voice was eerily calm but carried an undercurrent of something far darker, a quiet rage that hadn't yet burned itself out entirely. "He won't be bothering you again," Nate said.

Caleb swallowed hard and dared to glance at his father out of the corner of his eye. Nate had been his protector for years, the unwavering figure who shielded him from every danger and fear imaginable. But now, Caleb wasn't sure what or who he was looking at anymore.

As they drove away from the scene and from Danny's house, Caleb sat in silence beside Nate, grappling with emotions too tangled to name: awe at Nate's strength, fear of what that strength meant, and confusion about whether he should feel safe or terrified sitting next to him now.


(Present day)

Caleb lay sprawled on his bed, his body sinking into the rumpled sheets as if trying to disappear into the fabric. The earbuds nestled snugly in his ears and hummed softly, the melodies weaving a cocoon of sound that dulled the sharp edges of the world outside. His fingers clutched Edmund White's "A Boy's Own Story," the worn paperback creased at the spine, evidence of its well-loved status. Caleb's eyes moved hungrily over the text, devouring each word with an intensity that suggested he wasn't merely reading. He was searching.

He shifted slightly, carefully balancing the book against his bent knees. His body swayed almost imperceptibly to the rhythm of both the music in his ears and the cadence of Edmund's prose. It was as though the two were conspiring to create a symphony that only he could hear, a mixture of sound and story that made him feel seen and strangely whole.

But then, a pang, a sharp, undeniable tug of hunger, snapped him out of his reverie. His stomach growled softly, a low rumble that seemed almost apologetic for interrupting such a sacred moment. Caleb sighed, reluctant to leave the sanctuary of his bed and the world the book had crafted around him. With deliberate care, he set the novel on his nightstand, his fingers lingering on the cover for a moment longer than necessary. It felt wrong to stop reading mid-thought, like walking out on someone in the middle of an intimate confession. Tugging the earbuds from his ears, he finally swung his legs off the bed.

The floor was cool beneath his bare feet as he stood and stretched, his arms reaching toward the ceiling languidly, making his back crack softly. He rubbed a hand over his stomach absentmindedly as he padded toward the door, his mind still half-immersed in White's world.

He descended the stairs and stepped into the kitchen, where he froze mid-step. Leaning against the counter was Nate, his father's broad shoulders silhouetted against the muted sunlight spilling in from behind him. Nate's posture was relaxed but distant. His arms hung loosely at his sides while his eyes stared into some unseen space ahead. There was something heavy about his presence, an invisible weight tethering him to whatever thoughts had claimed him that he didn't notice Caleb enter.

Caleb hesitated by the doorway momentarily, unsure whether to retreat or break Nate's bubble. But as hunger gnawed at him again, practicality won out over awkwardness. He moved cautiously toward one of the cabinets, the creak of wood breaking through Nate's reverie.

He blinked once, twice, his focus snapping back to reality as he turned toward Caleb with a soft smile, careful smile. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Caleb replied, barely above a whisper. He fixed his gaze on the counter as if it held some great secret, avoiding Nate's eyes with precision. His movements were deliberate and stiff as he reached for a plate and then began rifling through drawers for utensils, a transparent attempt to busy himself.

"You need help with anything?" Nate asked after a beat, slightly shifting to lean more fully against the counter.

Caleb shook his head quickly without looking up. "No," he muttered under his breath. "I'm good."

But Nate didn't move away. Instead, he stepped closer and reached out for two slices of bread from where Caleb had placed them on the counter. "Let me," Nate said firmly but gently, already spreading them out on a clean surface before Caleb could protest.

Caleb stood frozen, unsure whether to step back or intervene. Nate's scent was stronger than usual, and Caleb had to close his eyes for a second in an attempt to cage the burning urge to leap into his father's arms and stick his tongue inside his mouth.

His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides as he watched Nate work. There was something almost meditative about how Nate moved, his hands deftly layering ingredients one by one without hesitation. He didn't ask Caleb what he wanted. He didn't have to. Each choice was instinctive, as though etched into muscle memory from years of knowing how to make sandwiches for this boy who now stood before him as something more complicated than just "his son."

And it wasn't just food, either. It was a ritual steeped in history: mornings before school when time ran short, but breakfast couldn't be skipped. Afternoons when sandwiches wrapped in foil waited patiently on car dashboards. On nights when storms knocked out power, peanut butter became their fallback dinner under flashlights.

When Nate finished assembling it, perfectly balanced layers were pressed neatly between two slices, and he handed it to Caleb without ceremony.

"Thanks," Caleb murmured quietly as he took it from him, cradling it carefully like it might fall apart if handled too roughly.

"Where are you going?" Nate's voice stopped him just as he turned toward the door.

Caleb hesitated for half a second before glancing over one shoulder, not enough to meet Nate's gaze fully, but enough to acknowledge him. “I…uh…I left my bike by the side of the road earlier," he said haltingly, each word feeling heavier than it should have. "Need to grab it."

Nate straightened slightly at this, crossing his arms over his chest in an unconscious gesture that made him seem more prominent. "I'll drive you," he offered evenly. "It's too hot out there."

"No." Caleb's response came too fast and sharp and hung awkwardly in its wake. "I don't need a ride," he added quickly when Nate raised an eyebrow.

For several long seconds, neither spoke. They just stood there.

Finally, mercifully, Nate relented with a slight nod and softer voice: "Alright…Just be careful."

"Yeah," Caleb mumbled before slipping out through the door without another glance back, the sandwich still clutched tightly in one hand.

He paused a few feet from the exit and took a bite of the sandwich, the bread dry against his tongue despite the layers of meat and mustard. He chewed mechanically, forcing it down as though swallowing would somehow suppress the emotions threatening to surge to the surface. He moved toward the door without another glance at the staircase or the living room around him.

Inside, Nate remained in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a posture that could have been mistaken for casual if not for the tension evident in his grip on the edge of the countertop. His gaze lingered on the doorway where Caleb had disappeared moments earlier.

The tension between them was beginning to feel suffocating, an invisible wall neither seemed willing to break down. Nate exhaled heavily through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, muttering. "Fuck," he said quietly to no one in particular. His voice carried a note of frustration, not at Caleb but at himself. He turned back toward the sink, staring blankly out at the backyard.

Outside, Caleb walked along the sunbaked road, his steps slow and uneven. A few strings of sweat already drizzled down his forehead. But it wasn't just the weather making him sweat, but also his thoughts.

He tried to focus on anything else, the road, the taste of the sandwich lingering in his mouth, but his mind kept circling back to Nate. The man who was, up until two days ago, everything Caleb thought a father should be: strong, unwavering, dependable. But now, that image felt distant and fractured.

As he approached the spot where he'd left his bike earlier that morning, the sight of its snapped tire greeted him like a cruel joke from fate itself. He sighed deeply before crouching down to inspect it again, even though he already knew there was no fixing it here. He hoisted the bike onto his shoulder with more effort than he cared to admit. The walk back felt endless, the ache in his arms growing steadily worse with each step, but strangely enough, something inside him felt lighter.

Maybe it was because he finally allowed himself to see Nate for who he was, not some idealized version of a father but someone real, struggling with deep feelings inside a cage of self-induced silence.

By the time Caleb reached home again and dropped off the bike in their shed, exhaustion clung to every part of him like a second skin. He closed the shed door, ready to walk back to the porch.

And that's when he saw him.

Nate was in the lake, his body slicing through it, each stroke smooth and deliberate. The water seemed alive, embracing him like an old friend, glistening on his arms and shoulders as he swam further out. The pier stretched into the lake like a bridge to nowhere, its weathered planks sun-bleached and warped by years of use. One of the posts bore Nate's neatly folded shirt and shorts. They hung there like a banner of calm, a testament to a rare moment of solitude Nate had carved out for himself.

Caleb lingered, his shoulder pressed against the clapboard siding as he watched. He noticed how Nate's movements were unhurried, not driven by a need to be anywhere or accomplish anything. There was a grace to him that Caleb rarely saw on land. There was no tense jawline, no sharp words on the verge of spilling out, just quiet concentration. His face was turned toward the sky as he floated briefly on his back, eyes closed as if savoring an unspoken prayer.

A smile tugged at Caleb's lips before he could stop it. He hated admitting it to himself, hated even more that it was true, but seeing Nate like this made him feel oddly lighter. And he couldn't, even if he tried, prevent his cock from immediately hardening inside his denim shorts. It was almost enough to make him forget the sting of his father's actions towards him in the last couple of days.

But this feeling was short-lived.

The back door swung open with a sharp bang, its hinges groaning as it slammed against the side of the house. Caleb flinched instinctively at the sound, his head snapping toward it just in time to see Ryan barrel out onto the porch. He didn't even glance in Caleb's direction as he tore across the yard naked, his soft cock bouncing between his legs before he cannonballed into the water.

Nate surfaced, wiping water from his face as Ryan swam toward him. At first, Nate looked annoyed, his brow furrowing as he said something Caleb couldn't hear. But as Ryan started splashing him playfully, Nate's features softened. Slowly, his broodiness melted, and a chuckle escaped him as he splashed back. Soon, the two were locked in a playful wrestling match.

Caleb's jaw tightened almost instinctively, his earlier calm slipping away as he watched the scene unfold. Ryan again was worming his way into Nate's attention, trying to claim a space that Caleb felt should be his. But as Caleb stood there, his annoyance began to shift. His eyes narrowed, taking in the way Ryan flailed dramatically as Nate dunked him underwater, the way Nate shook his head in mock exasperation, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

And then, Caleb smirked. It was slow, unexpected. Finally, the corners of his mouth ripped open into a full-blown smile. What was he afraid of, Caleb thought?

He stepped forward, his movements calm and measured as he walked down to the pier. Neither Nate nor Ryan noticed him at first, too caught up in their playful struggle.

But Caleb wasn't in a hurry. He sauntered toward the pier's edge, his hands sliding casually into his pockets as he watched them, his smirk growing wider.

He paused at the edge, a soft breeze teasing the back of his neck. He stood there, the air still and heavy around him, as if the world had stopped moving to watch what he would do next.

Slowly, he reached down, tugging at the hem of his shirt. The fabric clung to his skin, dampened by the sweat of his long walk back. He peeled it over his head smoothly, revealing his lean frame beneath. His shoulders were sharp and angular, not yet broad like his father's but holding the promise of maturity. His collarbones jutted slightly, carving shadows along his chest, where his skin bore faint freckles that seemed to scatter like constellations.

The curve of his ribs was just visible beneath the surface, his torso lean and wiry from years of restless energy. A faint line of muscle traced down the center of his abdomen, a whisper of strength that betrayed the boyishness of his build. Caleb let the shirt drop carelessly onto the pier, its fabric crumpling against the floor, before moving to the button of his denim shorts.

The sound of the metal clasp undoing was almost inaudible over the soft lapping of the water but felt significant. He pushed the shorts past his hips, the denim catching briefly before slipping down his legs. The sun caught the curve of his thighs, calves, and still dirt-streaked skin.

He stepped out of the denim shorts one foot at a time, his toes curling momentarily against the rough wood. Now, he stood there in nothing but his own skin, his half-hard dick swaying with every micro movement. His posture was neither confident nor shy, a quiet defiance tempered by vulnerability. The breeze swept over him again, cool against the warmth of his skin, and he closed his eyes briefly as if savoring the sensation.

In front of him, Nate and Ryan had stopped whatever banter they'd been engaged in. Their playful splashes had faded into silence, leaving only the gentle lapping of the lake against the pier as their eyes gazed at Caleb, hostage to the boy's form. Caleb didn't look back at them, though he could feel their eyes on him.

For a fleeting moment, Caleb felt exposed not just physically but wholly, as though shedding his clothes had peeled away a protective layer that had shielded him for so long. It wasn't just the airbrushing his skin that made him feel raw but something more profound, as if the lake demanded his vulnerability.

Without dwelling too long on the feeling, Caleb inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air.

Ryan's voice broke, sharp and incredulous. "What the fuck is he doing?" His tone carried a thread of nervous laughter, like someone witnessing something they couldn't understand.

Nate's broad frame shifted slightly, blocking Ryan's view as if shielding Caleb from scrutiny. His voice was quieter, almost contemplative, when he finally responded. "He's playing the game." A pause lingered after his words before he added softly, almost to himself, "My beautiful boy..." Ryan huffed in disbelief, craning his neck around Nate's shoulder like a curious child.

Caleb bent his knees slightly, his toes curling over the edge as he focused on the water below. He launched himself forward with effortless grace, slicing through the air in a perfect arc. His body moved with a precision born of instinct, muscles taut and streamlined as if carved by the very water below. When he hit the surface, it wasn't with a crash but with a seamless entry that sent only a gentle ripple across the lake's surface. The water welcomed him like an old friend, cool and refreshing as it enveloped his youthful body completely.

Beneath the shimmering surface, everything felt different, quieter, softer. His lungs expanded and contracted in rhythm as he turned his head occasionally to breathe.

During one of these moments, he caught sight of Nate. His father's gaze was fixed intently on him, not harsh but watchful, curious. Their eyes met before Caleb dove deeper into the water, breaking their connection. Something in Nate's stare unnerved him. Was it pride? Desire? Lust? Caleb shook off the thought as bubbles escaped his lips and spiraled toward the surface above.

He drifted then, rolling onto his back and staring at the sky, feeling the lake cradle him as though it understood everything he'd been through. The storm inside him began to quiet as he floated there, weightless and untethered. Slowly exhaling, he turned again and dove downward with purpose this time, propelling himself toward the lakebed below.

The bottom wasn't far, a meter or so at most, but it felt like another world entirely. The silty floor rose to meet him as he sank gracefully into its embrace. Caleb curled slightly into himself as he rested on the lakebed, letting his fingers trail through soft sediment that clouded briefly before settling again. His heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears, a steady drumbeat despite how still everything felt around him.

But then came a shift, a subtle disturbance.

His eyes snapped open instinctively as he looked through the murky depths to see a shape approaching: Nate.

His father swam underwater toward him, his broad frame cutting through the lake's depths with a predator's grace. The faint rays of sunlight pierced through, catching on Nate's muscular shoulders and glinting off the ripples in his wake, turning him into a shadowed figure of power and mystery.

Caleb's emerald-green eyes tracked his father's every movement.

Nate didn't reach out or make any motion for Caleb to surface. Instead, he stopped a few feet away and hovered there, his body suspended in the calm stillness. His eyes locked onto Caleb's, watching him closely, waiting.

For a heartbeat, Caleb hesitated, caught between wanting to stay where he was and feeling an inexplicable pull toward his father. Then he saw a flicker in Nate's gaze, something subtle but undeniable. The hardness in his eyes softened just slightly, and they almost appeared startled. Caleb realized with a jolt that Nate wasn't looking at him with the distant detachment he'd grown used to.

Instead, there was an almost reverent curiosity in his father's expression, as though seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time.

The green of Caleb's eyes glowed brighter.

For reasons the boy couldn't fully understand or put into words, he leaned forward. It wasn't a conscious decision but an instinct, a pull as natural as breathing. The water carried him closer to Nate in slow, fluid movements until they were only inches apart. He reached out cautiously, his arms moving through the water like they were pushing against time itself.

Caleb wrapped his arms around Nate's chest, his hands resting lightly against his broad back. The embrace felt foreign but not wrong. For a moment, Nate didn't move. His arms floated weightlessly at his sides as though he wasn't sure what to do with them.

Then, it happened.

Nate's arms came up slowly, encircling Caleb and pulling him close firmly, making Caleb's heart stutter. The embrace perfect. Awkward in its initial hesitation but real. Nate held him like he was afraid to let go too soon as if this fragile connection might dissolve if he loosened his grip even slightly.

The lake seemed to still be entirely around them. The usual currents that tugged at their limbs faded into nothingness as if the water recognized the sacredness of this moment. Father and son remained tangled beneath the surface, silent yet profoundly connected in a way neither had experienced before. Caleb pressed his ear against Nate's chest and felt the steady thrum of his father's heartbeat reverberating through the water.

For years, Caleb had carried fear like armor, an invisible weight that pressed on his shoulders and fueled every interaction with Nate. He feared what he didn't understand about his father, what he himself felt and couldn't explain, perhaps a sickness that needed to be purged, but mostly, he feared that whatever twisted love this was that he felt, Nate didn't.

Yet, under the lake's gentle embrace, that fear seemed to lift just slightly. Suddenly, he didn't feel afraid anymore.

He felt safe.

Caleb pulled back slowly, almost reluctantly. He glanced at Nate before kicking upward toward the surface with powerful strokes.

The break into open air was sudden and sharp. Caleb inhaled deeply as his head breached the water, gasping for breath while droplets clung to his face and hair like diamonds catching the sunlight. He waded toward the shore without looking back at Nate, not out of shame or avoidance but because he wasn't sure how to process what had just happened. His steps were quiet as he reached the pile of clothes waiting for him. Grabbing them with hands that trembled slightly from more than just exertion, he tossed them over his shoulder and began trudging back toward the house.

Behind him, Nate lingered in the lake. His body remained mostly submerged except for his head, which was above the surface. He stared at Caleb's retreating figure.

Something had shifted between them in that brief moment beneath the lake's depths, not enough to erase the hurt and buried feelings, but enough to plant the smallest seed of understanding.

Then Ryan's voice suddenly cut through the stillness. "Jesus Christ, want me to get the tissues?"

Nate's shoulders tensed at the boy's words before he turned slightly in the water, just enough for his sharp eyes to meet Ryan's smug expression from where he stood waist-deep.

He bit his tongue, holding his gaze for a long moment until he forced Ryan's smirk to falter ever so slightly under its weight. "I'm going inside," Nate finally said, his tone clipped, final. He turned and began wading toward the shore without waiting for a response.

Then, as if unable to hold the building pressure inside, Ryan let out a low growl and slammed his fist into the water. The impact sent a spray of droplets into the air, the ripples echoing his anger outward. His teeth clenched as he muttered under his breath, frustration carving harsh lines into his face.

He eventually pulled himself out of the water and returned to the house. Inside, Nate cleaned the kitchen, gathering whatever had survived lunch. Ryan could hear the shower running upstairs with no sign of Caleb anywhere. He immediately began pacing around the living room, his blue eyes drilling holes into Nate's back, his soaked body dripping onto the floor. Nate grabbed a towel from one of the tall chairs by the counter without looking at him and tossed it to Ryan.

"You're dripping all over the floor," he groaned. The towel slammed against Ryan's face. He begrudgingly obeyed, but his anger mounted, ready to explode.

"And you're ruining the mood," Ryan said.

"You need to dial it down," Nate warned. Ryan seemed unwilling to do so, his competitive nature pushing through.

"I thought you wanted this. You're the one who said you wanted to toughen him up," Ryan argued, his malicious tone pushing through. But Nate said nothing, which seemed to rile Ryan even more. "It's depressing, you know? How you turn into this pathetic little creature every time he's around," Ryan provoked.

"Shut your fucking mouth," Nate warned, one single finger pointing at Ryan. His voice was controlled but layered with bottled rage.

"Why don't you let me handle it..." the boy said, slowly approaching Nate until they were inches apart, leaning into his stepfather's ear. "I'll whip him into shape...Man up that virgin pussy real good."

Suddenly, the room erupted with chaos, a deafening crash jolting like a thunderclap. The coffee table rattled under the force of the explosion, sending a half-empty mug tumbling to the floor, where it shattered into jagged fragments. Nate's arm shot up with the speed of a striking cobra, his fist colliding with Ryan's face in a sickening crunch. The impact reverberated through the room as if the very air had been split in two.

Ryan staggered back, clutching his face with one hand. Nate didn't pause. His movements were feral, driven by an unrelenting force that seemed to boil beneath his skin. With a guttural roar that filled the space like the growl of a cornered beast, he lunged forward and seized Ryan, the boy's neck bunched in his massive hand, yanking Ryan off balance with one fluid motion. The two crashed into the couch, their combined weight dragging it several feet across the floor with a grating screech that sent vibrations through the wooden planks below. Nate's grip was unyielding, his fingers clamped around Ryan's neck, thick, calloused digits digging into his skin like iron vises.

Ryan's eyes widened for a fleeting moment, a flicker of fear breaking through his mask of defiance. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a fiery glare that burned hotter with every passing second. Blood from a deep gash above his eyebrow now dripped steadily down his face, merging with sweat as it traced crimson lines along his temple. He spat out a curse, his voice hoarse but brimming with venom.

"Or maybe I should let Jenna in on our little secret," he tried to slither from under Nate's grip. "You know what...scratch that. She probably already knows..." he mocked, feeling Nate's hand tighten around his neck.

Ryan's eyes widened, pupils dilating as Nate's forearm pressed relentlessly against his throat. The muscles in Nate's arm were taut, veins bulging with effort, his knuckles white as they locked into place. Ryan's breaths came in sharp, desperate gasps, each one shorter than the last, his chest heaving as though trying to force air through an ever-tightening noose. His fingers clawed at Nate's arm, nails scraping skin, but the grip held firm.

A flush crept across Ryan's face, starting at his jawline and spreading upward like wildfire. His skin slowly shifted hues, first a mottled red, then darker, edging toward purple as oxygen escaped him. His legs kicked out wildly, his bare feet scuffing against the wooden floor.

Nate's face was a mask of cold fury. His jaw clenched so tightly that it seemed his teeth might crack under the pressure. And suddenly, his eyes glazed back, a black layer taking hold of them.

Ryan's lips moved soundlessly, forming words that never made it past the constriction of his throat. His eyes bulged further, shimmering with tears, not just from the pain but from panic. The primal fear of helplessness overtook him as his vision began to blur around the edges.

Then, out of nowhere, came the footsteps.

The faint creak of wood underfoot sliced through the tension like a blade. Nate froze mid-motion, his head snapping toward the staircase, every muscle in his body going rigid as though he'd been caught in the act of something forbidden. His grip on Ryan loosened slightly, not enough to free him but enough for Ryan to suck in a shallow, wheezing gasp that rattled like dry leaves.

At the base of the stairs stood Caleb.

Nate's breath hitched, and his grip on Ryan slackened just enough for the younger man to suck in another desperate breath, coughing violently. Ryan's hands trembled as they pressed against Nate's unyielding forearm, his body sagging under Nate's dominance.

"Let him go," Caleb whispered, a plea laced with every word.

Nate's chest heaved, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the force of his ragged breaths. His muscles coiled, taut, and trembling under physical exertion. The veins in his forearms stood out like cords as his grip finally slackened, fingers uncurling slowly from Ryan's neck. It was like a tether had snapped, releasing all the tension in a single, jarring moment.

Ryan crumpled onto the couch with a guttural gasp, one hand flying instinctively to his throat while the other braced against the cushions to steady himself. His chest heaved in uneven bursts as he sucked in precious air, each breath rasping painfully through his bruised windpipe. A raw, red imprint of Nate's hand marred his skin, standing out starkly against the pallor of his complexion. His lips parted to speak, but no words came, only a faint wheeze as his head lolled back against the couch.

Nate staggered backward, his movements stiff and mechanical, as though every muscle in his body resisted retreat. He dragged a trembling hand through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead in an almost absent gesture. The strands clung stubbornly to his skin, slick with sweat that had seeped into it.

Nate's gaze flickered down to Ryan, regret and anger swirling in his stormy eyes. But whatever emotion threatened to surface was swallowed quickly, buried beneath the rigid set of his jaw. He straightened to his full height and turned away with a sharp intake of breath that sounded more like a growl than a sigh before storming past Caleb without a word.

His feet struck the wooden stairs with thunderous force, each step reverberating like distant cannon fire through the house. The sound carried even as he disappeared onto the second floor, leaving Caleb standing motionless and Ryan sprawled on the couch amidst the wreckage of their confrontation.

Caleb's hands fell limply to his sides as he exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to steady himself against the chaos in Nate's wake. But a low groan soon pulled Caleb's attention back. Ryan shifted on the couch, dragging himself upright with painstaking effort until he slouched against the backrest. Blood continued to trickle down from the gash on his temple, carving an erratic path along his cheekbone before pooling at the edge of his jawline. He wiped at it half-heartedly with his hand, smearing streaks of it across his skin but doing little to staunch the flow.

Despite everything, his labored breathing, bruised throat, and battered appearance, Ryan managed a faint smirk that tugged at one corner of his mouth like some defiant badge of honor. "Well," he croaked hoarsely, voice roughened by both injury and amusement. "Remind me not to piss him off again..."

Caleb didn't respond. He merely shot Ryan a glance before moving toward the kitchen without a word. He rifled through one of the drawers near the sink until he unearthed an old first-aid kit, a scuffed white box with faded red lettering.

When Caleb returned to Ryan's side and placed the kit on the coffee table, the rain had begun to fall in earnest outside. The rhythm of water striking glass filled the gaps in their silence, a soothing counterpoint to the tension between them.

The antiseptic tinged the air with its sharp, sterile scent. As Caleb worked, his fingers brushed lightly against Ryan's skin, accidental, fleeting touches that sent a strange ripple of awareness through them.

Ryan's gaze lingered on Caleb's face, watching the way his lashes fanned over his cheeks and the faint furrow of concentration on his brow. He noted how Caleb's green eyes flicked between the wound and the supplies in his hands. Their usual sharpness softened into something almost tender. There was a quiet grace to Caleb's movements, a steadiness that Ryan hadn't expected, that he simply wasn't used to.

Their knees touched, a fleeting press of warmth that neither of them acknowledged aloud, but neither moved to break. Caleb was close enough now that Ryan could catch the faint scent of his skin. That intoxicating aroma.

The silence between them shifted, deepening into something charged. It wasn't just the aftermath of the fight or Caleb's strange intimacy tending to his wound. It was something older, something that had always been there but that they had never bothered to name.

Caleb broke the silence first, his voice low and rough as though he were speaking around something lodged in his throat. "I think there's a storm coming…"

Ryan blinked, jolted out of his reverie before his brow lifted sarcastically. "No shit," he replied.

When Caleb finally pulled back, setting the bloodied cotton pad aside and reaching for a bandage, his hand brushed against Ryan's jaw. Ryan stilled, his breath catching for a moment as their eyes met. Caleb hesitated, the bandage halfway to Ryan's forehead, his emerald gaze searching Ryan's face for something.

Ryan swallowed hard, the movement drawing Caleb's gaze like a moth to a flame. His Adam's apple bobbed, and for a moment, Caleb was transfixed. The curve of Ryan's throat seemed fragile and defiant, a contradiction mirrored so much about him. Caleb's eyes lingered longer than he intended, tracing that line before flitting back up to meet Ryan's. Their gazes locked, and there was no mistaking it in that brief, charged moment, the flicker of something undeniably present. It wasn't just recognition. It was an understanding, an acknowledgment of the magnetic pull that had always existed between them, simmering beneath the surface like the first rumblings of thunder before a storm.

Suddenly, Ryan noticed Caleb's eyes on him. "What?" he asked, frowning.

Caleb shook his head quickly, almost embarrassed. His cheeks tinged faintly pink. "Nothing," he muttered, looking anywhere but at Ryan. Then, after a beat, he added, almost too softly to be heard, "I just... never noticed."

"Never noticed what?" Ryan pressed, leaning in slightly. His tone was casual, but there was an edge and curiosity in the question.

Caleb hesitated, his lips parting as if to speak, only to close again, finally, with a breathless chuckle that sounded more like a self-deprecating sigh than amusement. "You have pretty eyes," he said.

Ryan froze for a fraction of a second. Then he snorted an awkward attempt to diffuse the weight of what had just been said. "This doesn't change anything, nerd," he said quickly, his tone defensive yet strangely soft around the edges. "I still hate you."

Caleb's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk. "I know," he murmured under his breath. "There," he said abruptly, snapping the tension as he finished applying the bandage to Ryan's forehead. He pulled back slightly but not before smoothing the adhesive down with careful fingers. The touch was featherlight but electric nonetheless, neither could deny it.

Ryan flinched and pulled away too quickly, almost stumbling as he stood up. "Thanks," he mumbled without looking at Caleb.

Caleb didn't respond right away. He packed up the first-aid kit, shoving gauze and antiseptic wipes into their designated compartments with more force than necessary. When he looked up again, Ryan was already halfway up the stairs.

Caleb sighed. Then, calmly, he stood up and began to pick up the pieces of Nate and Ryan's scuffle. He mopped the broken glass, straightened the couch, and returned the coffee table to its original place. About fifteen minutes later, everything was back the way it was. Caleb glanced at himself, noticing he was still naked, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. So he walked back up the stairs, determined to go back to his room and finally change. But as he stepped into the hallway, he noticed it. Nate's door, slightly ajar. He felt his feet being pulled across the floor, and soon, before realizing it, he was standing in front of it.

Caleb hesitated, his hand lingering on the smooth wooden doorframe as though it were a barrier he couldn't cross. The door hung there, a small, vulnerable opening into a space Caleb had grown in, but that now seemed unknown.

But that weight.
The fear.
It just wasn't there anymore.

So, Caleb pushed the door open.

Inside, Nate sat by the window, his silhouette stark. The sunlight slipped through the gaps in the curtains, casting fractured beams across the room and catching on the sharp angles of Nate's face. His broad shoulders were hunched slightly, his posture subdued, as though carrying a burden too heavy to shrug off. His gaze was fixed outside, distant and unfocused, scanning into nothing.

Caleb stepped inside tentatively, leaving the door open, his movements deliberate and quiet. He caught the slight shift in Nate's posture, a barely perceptible straightening of his spine, as if he'd sensed Caleb's presence but refused to fully acknowledge it.

Caleb momentarily faltered at this, feeling the familiar weight of hesitation press against his chest like an old friend he wished would leave him alone. But this time felt different somehow. No anger was simmering beneath the surface, no volatile energy waiting to explode.

Caleb straightened his back and squared his shoulders, forcing himself to find some semblance of confidence he wasn't sure he felt. "I thought you'd be punching a wall or something," he said, his voice low but steady, cutting through the quiet.

Nate turned his head slightly at that, just enough for Caleb to catch a glimpse of his profile, the sharp line of his jaw clenched tightly, the shadow of his untamed beard picking up the light. His expression wasn't angry or defensive like Caleb had expected. Instead, it was hollow, drained of any fight. Nate's eyes flicked briefly toward Caleb before darting back to the window as though looking at him for too long might shatter his fragile composure.

He leaned back in his chair slightly, resting one forearm on the windowsill. "I'm running out of walls," he muttered, his voice rough around the edges.

Caleb took another step into the room, crossing his arms over his smooth chest as he leaned against the dresser near the wall. The movement was calculated, meant to look relaxed even though he felt anything but. He studied Nate carefully now, watching how his father's fingers tapped absentmindedly against his knee or his shoulders sagged despite their size.

"I wanted to believe you were a certain way," Caleb began after a beat of silence, his tone quieter now but no less firm. "So I think...I made up this version of you in my head. This perfect father figure who always knew what to do, always had my back," He paused here for emphasis, letting the words hang in the air like smoke before continuing. "But you were never that guy."

Nate flinched almost imperceptibly at those words, not enough for someone else to notice but enough for Caleb to see it clearly. His hand gripped the edge of the windowsill tighter for just a second before relaxing again.

"I wish you'd open up to me," Caleb went on softly, his voice dipping into something closer to vulnerability now, even as he kept his gaze steady on Nate's profile. "But I know you won't...not really. Maybe you were thought to think less of yourself if you did." He let out a shaky breath, feeling some invisible knot in his chest loosen slightly as he finally voiced thoughts that had been sitting heavy inside him for years.

"Still," he added after another pause, "I want you to know…I understand now." He swallowed hard before finishing: "Why you did it."

Nate's shoulders stiffened again, an almost instinctive reaction, but he didn't turn around fully this time either. Caleb could see it anyway, the faint glint of tears gathering in Nate's eyes as they caught what little light filtered into the room.

"You started fucking him so you wouldn't fuck me," Caleb said bluntly but not cruelly, his tone matter-of-fact rather than accusatory. But after a pause, he slightly straightened as if trying to conjure some hidden strength. "I wish you had..." the boy whispered, finally unleashing the truth buried deep inside. "I would've wanted you to," he confessed.

After several long seconds, the declaration hung between them like an exposed nerve neither wanted to touch. Then, finally, Nate broke first, not with words but with motion: one hand dragging across his face while releasing a shuddering exhale that sounded perilously close to breaking apart entirely.

"Why did you come back?" Nate asked eventually without turning around fully. His voice was quieter now, too, but still roughened by emotion, barely held in check.

Caleb shrugged lightly, and even though Nate couldn't see it, he could feel it.

"I don't deserve you," Nate murmured after another stretch where time seemed suspended entirely between them.

"You're right. You don't," Caleb answered without hesitation but also without malice or cruelty in how plainly honest those two words came out.

"Then why are you still here?" Nate asked, his voice low but weighted, the kind of question that refused to be ignored. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest as though bracing himself for whatever answer might come, his jaw rigid, his eyes fixed on Caleb with an intensity that bordered on pleading.

A sharp gust of air broke from Caleb's nose, not quite a laugh but something close. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that seemed more habit than necessity. "Who the fuck knows," he muttered, his voice carrying a raw edge that suggested he'd asked himself the same question more times than he could count. Then, after a beat, he added with a sardonic chuckle. "But I'm done trying to figure it out."

Something about the way he said it, a finality, a resignation, suddenly decompressed Nate's chest.

And then, Caleb's hand slipped down his stomach, gripping the towel's fabric and tugging it off. It fell to the floor with a soft thud before he moved to the bed, powdering the towel beneath his feet. He slid his smooth body onto the mattress, luring Nate's gaze towards him. The hunk swiveled in his chair, rotating to face his son and finally rising from the seat.

Caleb watched, his heart pounding in his chest, as Nate walked to the door, closing it slowly with the gentlest click. Seconds later, the sound of the lock turning echoed through the entire cabin.

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of blue eyes watched from the shadows of the hallway. Ryan stood just out of sight, his back pressed against the cool plaster wall. His breath was shallow, and each exhale was carefully measured to not give himself away. He could feel his pulse thrumming as he listened, every word sinking into him like stones dropped into a still pond before he finally stepped back, his movements deliberate and cautious. His hand brushed against the wall for balance as he turned toward the shared bedroom he and Caleb had once occupied.

The room was steeped in twilight, shadows stretching long and thin across the walls as the sun dipped below the horizon. Ryan carefully closed the door behind him, leaning against it momentarily as though seeking support. His chest rose and fell in uneven rhythms, his mind replaying fragments of what he'd overheard like a broken record.

His blue eyes scanned the room quickly, too quickly, darting from corner to corner as though expecting something or someone to leap out at him. But it was empty. Quiet. Just him and the remnants of Caleb scattered across the space. His gaze snagged on Caleb's bed, the sheets slightly rumpled and a hoodie draped over the edge like an afterthought.

Ryan hesitated, his body rigid as emotion surged, part longing, part ache. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he moved toward the bed. Each step felt tentative, as though he were crossing into forbidden territory. His fingers trembled when he reached for the hoodie, brushing over the fabric with an almost reverent care. It was soft beneath his fingertips, worn in places from years of use.

He brought it to his face without thinking, inhaling deeply. The scent hit him all at once, something purely Caleb: warm and grounding yet utterly elusive. A shiver ran down Ryan's spine as he closed his eyes. His lips parted slightly in a breath that was half-sigh, half-sob.

Then, slowly, carefully, he slipped it over his head. The act was slow, methodical. He wasn't putting on a hoodie. He was slipping into Caleb's skin. The fabric engulfed him instantly, the sleeves hanging a tad past his wrists and the hem brushing against his thighs. He absently smoothed his hands over the fabric, tracing its seams as though trying to memorize every stitch.

Crossing to his own bed, Ryan sank down onto the edge of the mattress with a heaviness that seemed to sap all strength from his limbs. The springs creaked faintly beneath him as he pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them like a child seeking solace. He stared out toward the window, where faint streaks of orange and pink still stubbornly clung.

And then it happened, the tears came without warning or preamble. They welled up quickly until they spilled over unchecked, carving silent trails down his cheeks. He first buried his face in his hands but promptly sought refuge in Caleb's hoodie instead, pulling the hood over his eyes, trying desperately to hide his vulnerability.

Something Ryan knew how to do.

After all, he had done it all his life.


(To be continued...)

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Chapter Comments

All these delicious layers; I’m positively giddy.

It’s a treat to watch Nate discover the conviction hidden beneath what he thought was dependence. Caleb’s been holding back almost as much as his father and the irony is how he hesitated out of self-preservation while Nate acted in desperation. Who’s the weak one here?

For all that he’s caught in the crossfire, I can’t help but suspect Ryan put himself there. What I’m curious about is if it’s self-sabotage or genuine jealousy. Is his new family too much of a good thing or does he feel he isn’t good enough for his new family?

You never fail to impress!

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Nate still confuses me. I don't fully trust him with Caleb, no matter how much I root for them. I suspect that the whole thing between Ryan and Nate happened because the latter foresaw the undeniable connection between Ryan and Caleb. It's not just about Nate using Ryan as an alternative because he couldn't fuck Caleb, but also about steering Caleb, his sole interest, away from a potential threat.

This is why Nate exploded when Ryan expressed his desire to take away Caleb's "purity"—something Nate believed should only be tainted by him. The tables didn’t just turn; they were completely overthrown.

Anyway, I loved how Caleb made a show of himself and left them salivating, especially Nate. Ryan deserved it for his vindictiveness and for being a "pick me." Lastly, for their first time, I want Caleb to top Nate as a form of retribution for everything he’s endured. If that isn't possible, at least don't let Nate just fuck his way through Caleb. Edge him so hard that he begs for it. 

Edited by tmanac
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Cane23

Posted (edited)

I might be completely wrong (as I said, you are never certain with @CasualWanderer82), after reading all the chapters and many comments... Nate is very dangerous, cunning man. A true predator! All of this, (the Men Up game) was planned a long time ago. Everything, including alcohol and joint performance. Even the time is not coincidence. Caleb is 18, old enough by law to make his own decisions. How old is Ryan - he's 19. He's sexual affair with Nate started one year ago - the time Ryan got age of consent. But I don't think Nate did it out of consideration toward the boys...no, he wanted to protect himself in front of the law. Everything is consensual, right? And if we add something that @tmanac excellently pointed - 'Nate foresaw the undeniable connection between Ryan and Caleb' - voila, the plan for Man Up action is here!

What Nate didn't plan, blinded by his own lust and feelings, is the power Caleb has over him! Especially now, when all the brakes are down. What will the Caleb do with all that power? He could destroy them all. So, I agree with you @Danners - "Who's the weak one here"?

Oh, Ryan. according to most of the comments, the most unpopular character. In my opinion, he is the only victim here. I don't think he is innocent in this 'plot' but he is (complicated, damaged...) kid. Caleb is a kid. Who is the only adult here - papa himself. I didn't like Ryan's sarcastic and malicious comments but, is it really who he is, or it is his form of self-defense, or maybe even the roll he plays in this farce? So, daddy will get the subject of his wet dreams, Caleb...well, he got a rather brutal awakening, but he will get the man of his dreams...which leaves - Ryan. Broken, abandoned, crying on the bed in fetus position. If Ryan does something terrible out of jealousy or desperation (kill them all, burn the house...) it is not going to be act of an evil but broken boy. 

Edited by Cane23
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7 hours ago, Danners said:

All these delicious layers; I’m positively giddy.

It’s a treat to watch Nate discover the conviction hidden beneath what he thought was dependence. Caleb’s been holding back almost as much as his father and the irony is how he hesitated out of self-preservation while Nate acted in desperation. Who’s the weak one here?

For all that he’s caught in the crossfire, I can’t help but suspect Ryan put himself there. What I’m curious about is if it’s self-sabotage or genuine jealousy. Is his new family too much of a good thing or does he feel he isn’t good enough for his new family?

You never fail to impress!

I could say the same about your insights, my friend!

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4 hours ago, tmanac said:

Nate still confuses me. I don't fully trust him with Caleb, no matter how much I root for them. I suspect that the whole thing between Ryan and Nate happened because the latter foresaw the undeniable connection between Ryan and Caleb. It's not just about Nate using Ryan as an alternative because he couldn't fuck Caleb, but also about steering Caleb, his sole interest, away from a potential threat.

This is why Nate exploded when Ryan expressed his desire to take away Caleb's "purity"—something Nate believed should only be tainted by him. The tables didn’t just turn; they were completely overthrown.

Anyway, I loved how Caleb made a show of himself and left them salivating, especially Nate. Ryan deserved it for his vindictiveness and for being a "pick me." Lastly, for their first time, I want Caleb to top Nate as a form of retribution for everything he’s endured. If that isn't possible, at least don't let Nate just fuck his way through Caleb. Edge him so hard that he begs for it. 

Nate is probably one of the most complex characters I've written. I, for one, am completely enthralled by him. Let's hope he let's me poke inside his head a bit without choking the life out of me...😜

  • Love 1
  • Haha 1
35 minutes ago, Cane23 said:

I might be completely wrong (as I said, you are never certain with @CasualWanderer82), after reading all the chapters and many comments... Nate is very dangerous, cunning man. A true predator! All of this, (the Men Up game) was planned a long time ago. Everything, including alcohol and joint performance. Even the time is not coincidence. Caleb is 18, old enough by law to make his own decisions. How old is Ryan - he's 19. He's sexual affair with Nate started one year ago - the time Ryan got age of consent. But I don't think Nate did it out of consideration toward the boys...no, he wanted to protect himself in front of the law. Everything is consensual, right? And if we add something that @tmanac excellently pointed - 'Nate foresaw the undeniable connection between Ryan and Caleb' - voila, the plan for Man Up action is here!

What Nate didn't plan, blinded by his own lust and feelings, is the power Caleb has over him! Especially now, when all the brakes are down. What will the Caleb do with all that power? He could destroy them all. So, I agree with you @Danners - "Who's the weak one here"?

Oh, Ryan. according to most of the comments, the most unpopular character. In my opinion, he is the only victim here. I don't think he is innocent in this 'plot' but he is (complicated, damaged...) kid. Caleb is a kid. Who is the only adult here - papa himself. I didn't like Ryan's sarcastic and malicious comments but, is it really who he is, or it is his form of self-defense, or maybe even the roll he plays in this farce? So, daddy will get the subject of his wet dreams, Caleb...well, he got a rather brutal awakening, but he will get the man of his dreams...which leaves - Ryan. Broken, abandoned, crying on the bed in fetus position. If Ryan does something terrible out of jealousy or desperation (kill them all, burn the house...) it is not going to be act of an evil but broken boy. 

Damn, @Cane23 🤯

Caleb and Ryan are definitely byproducts of Nate's behavior and choices. Wrong as they may be, he doesn't want to hurt the boys. But what does he want then...? 🤔 

  • Love 2
37 minutes ago, CasualWanderer82 said:

But what does he want then...? 🤔 

He wants to have his cake and eat it too. Hehe.

If you ask me, Nate wants Caleb to be strong enough to survive/stand on his own two feet if and when he’s gone. I think he also wants to mold Ryan into a man who will stand with his (biological) son instead of against him and maybe take some of the weight off both boys’ shoulders.

But until that happens, it’s …

sergio leone film GIF

  • Haha 3
2 minutes ago, Danners said:

He wants to have his cake and eat it too. Hehe.

If you ask me, Nate wants Caleb to be strong enough to survive/stand on his own two feet if and when he’s gone. I think he also wants to mold Ryan into a man who will stand with his (biological) son instead of against him and maybe take some of the weight off both boys’ shoulders.

But until that happens, it’s …

sergio leone film GIF

Oh, what a good Samaritan! He wants to fuck them bad, to take good out of them! 🤣

  • Haha 3
  • Wow 1
54 minutes ago, Danners said:

He wants to have his cake and eat it too. Hehe.

If you ask me, Nate wants Caleb to be strong enough to survive/stand on his own two feet if and when he’s gone. I think he also wants to mold Ryan into a man who will stand with his (biological) son instead of against him and maybe take some of the weight off both boys’ shoulders.

But until that happens, it’s …

sergio leone film GIF

"Let them eat cake!"

  • Haha 2
3 hours ago, CasualWanderer82 said:

Damn, @Cane23 🤯

Caleb and Ryan are definitely byproducts of Nate's behavior and choices. Wrong as they may be, he doesn't want to hurt the boys. But what does he want then...? 🤔 

I think Nate loves both boys but is struggling through some deep seated issues and self-loathing….fucking his aggressive/cynical stepson is acceptable as means of not fucking his sensitive/innocent son. In the end, I think, he wants each boy to Man Up by recognizing the strength of the other.  He wants Caleb to be unafraid, in all ways, but specifically to pursue what he wants, like Ryan does/did. And he wants Ryan to understand strength isn’t mutually exclusive from kindness and compassion.    But I’m not sure Nate is going make it to the end of the story to see that happen

  • Love 2
3 hours ago, CasualWanderer82 said:

Damn, @Cane23 🤯

Caleb and Ryan are definitely byproducts of Nate's behavior and choices. Wrong as they may be, he doesn't want to hurt the boys. But what does he want then...? 🤔 

I think Nate loves both boys but is struggling through some deep seated issues and self-loathing….fucking his aggressive/cynical stepson is acceptable as means of not fucking his sensitive/innocent son. In the end, I think, he wants each boy to Man Up by recognizing the strength of the other.  He wants Caleb to be unafraid, in all ways, but specifically to pursue what he wants, like Ryan does/did. And he wants Ryan to understand strength isn’t mutually exclusive from kindness and compassion (I recognize that this is an odd take away given Nate’s violence towards Ryan in this chapter but so far Ryan has only responded to that behavior).    But I’m not sure Nate is going make it to the end of the story to see that happen

10 hours ago, 349bdr said:

I think Nate loves both boys but is struggling through some deep seated issues and self-loathing….fucking his aggressive/cynical stepson is acceptable as means of not fucking his sensitive/innocent son. In the end, I think, he wants each boy to Man Up by recognizing the strength of the other.  He wants Caleb to be unafraid, in all ways, but specifically to pursue what he wants, like Ryan does/did. And he wants Ryan to understand strength isn’t mutually exclusive from kindness and compassion.    But I’m not sure Nate is going make it to the end of the story to see that happen

All I can say is: you definitely have the right mindset for this story. 

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