Somewhere Only We Know - 31. The Afterglow

The sky dimmed around them in soft watercolor strokes—lavender bleeding into blue, blue fading into the quiet silver of approaching night. The dock creaked gently beneath their weight, lakewater lapping in slow breaths against the posts. The air smelled faintly of cold pine, sunworn wood, and the beginning of frost.

Kitt lay half across Matt’s chest, cheek pressed over the steady drum of his heartbeat. Matt’s hoodie was warm beneath his skin, and his fingers traced aimless, loving lines up and down Kitt’s arm as if rediscovering a map he used to know by heart.

Kitt curled closer, breathing Matt in. “I can’t believe we’re here,” he whispered.

Matt kissed the top of his hair. “I can.”

Kitt smiled—small, tired, real. “Yeah?”

“I’ve been imagining this for months,” Matt murmured. “Every version of it. You’re always here. Right here.”

Kitt swallowed, heart tripping. “Can I… tell you something?”

Matt hummed. “Anything.”

Kitt drew a breath that trembled. “I’m pretty sure I knew before you did. About how I felt.”

Matt’s hand stilled.

Kitt continued softly, “Ninth grade. Maybe earlier. There were all these tiny moments that… stuck to me.” He lifted his head slightly, resting his chin on Matt’s chest. “Like that time you showed up at my house with hot chocolate when I got the flu. Or when you let me win chess even though I sucked at it. Or when you held my ankle after I sprained it and told me you weren’t going anywhere. Or even when we were here talking about nothing at all.”

Matt’s eyes softened with something deep and aching.

“I used to get jealous,” Kitt admitted. “When girls liked you. When your friends swarmed you. When people wanted a piece of you. I’d tell myself I didn’t care, but I did. I cared so much it scared me.”

“Kitt…” Matt whispered, thumb brushing his jaw.

“I was just so afraid,” Kitt said, burying his face briefly in Matt’s chest. “Afraid of losing you. Afraid of wanting you. Afraid because where I grew up, love like this was… dangerous.”

Matt wrapped an arm around him, holding him closer. “You shouldn’t have gone through that alone.”

Kitt exhaled shakily. “I kinda waited for you to make the first move. I prayed you’d see it.”

Matt let out a soft laugh—hurt and fond all at once. “I think I did. I just didn’t understand what it meant.”

Kitt looked up at him.

“In tenth grade,” Matt said quietly, “I kept gravitating toward you. My eyes always found you first. My day was better if you were in it. I always looked for you at the bleachers. I thought it was… normal. Best friend stuff.” He shook his head, smiling at himself. “But then I’d get jealous if someone else made you laugh. Or I’d feel off balance all day if you were upset. I’d catch myself staring and get angry at myself for it.”

Kitt’s heart pulled painfully.

“I kept pretending it was nothing,” Matt said. “Because if I let myself believe what it was… I was scared it would break everything we had.”

Kitt brushed his nose against Matt’s. “It wouldn’t have.”

“I know that now.” Matt cupped his jaw gently. “God, I wish I’d figured it out sooner.”

“You figured it out when you were ready,” Kitt whispered. “And you looked for me. Every day. Every weekend. You never stopped.”

Matt swallowed, throat tight.

They lay there in silence for a moment, watching the sky deepen.

“There’s something you should know. About your father.”

Kitt froze.

“He was in a car accident. But he survived, and he’s recovering now.”

Kitt went pale. “Is he okay? Was it serious?”

“From what I heard, yes to both. But someone helped him and donated blood, so it wasn’t life-threatening.”

“Thank God…”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. And I’ll keep my promise—when you’re ready, I’ll make sure you have a place you can call home.”

“Thank you, Matt,” Kitt said with a quiet exhale.

Then Matt added softly, “I also want to talk about the future.”

Kitt blinked. “What… kind of future?”

“Our future.”

Kitt’s breath caught.

Matt smiled—a small, shy, hopeful smile. “I’m pretty sure I’m getting the scholarship. Coaches are talking. Scouts are showing up. If I keep my grades solid, I’ll land at Northbridge.” He paused. “Our dream school.”

Kitt’s eyes softened. “You will.”

“And you’ll get there too,” Matt said, voice steady with belief. “GED first. Then community college if you want. Or direct entry if you’re ready. You can do it. You’re the smartest person I know.”

Kitt flushed. “Funny you mentioned GED. Tom’s helping me study. He thinks I could take the test before winter break.”

“Who’s Tom?”

“A very good friend. He’s a professor at Northbridge.”

“Oh… Should I be jealous?” Matt teased.

“Don’t be silly.”

“Then that’s settled. I’ll wait for you there,” Matt whispered. “Or you’ll wait for me. Whatever works.”

Kitt’s chest ached with how badly he wanted that.
Wanted a life where Matt held his hand in the sun without fear.
Wanted holidays without dread.
Wanted mornings without cold floors and loneliness.

“I want that too,” he whispered.

Matt kissed his forehead. “Then we’ll make it happen.”

But Kitt’s expression dimmed. He hesitated.

“What is it?” Matt asked softly.

Kitt took a slow breath. “My dad… Matt, I know you said the situation has changed, but...”

“He came to me. He came to my parents. He apologized.”

“And you didn’t tell him where I was,” Kitt whispered.

“I didn’t tell him,” Matt murmured. “I won’t. Not until you say it’s okay.”

Kitt’s eyes shimmered. “Thank you.”

“But Kitt… he’s trying. He’s really trying. He’s not the same man he was.”

Kitt pressed his lips together. “I want to believe that. I do. But I can’t… go back yet. I can’t be trapped again. I can’t breathe if I’m scared all the time.” His voice wavered. “Please don’t tell him I’m here. Not now.”

Matt placed a hand at the back of Kitt’s neck, pulling him closer. “Then I won’t. I won’t say anything until you tell me to.”

Kitt exhaled, relieved. “I sent a postcard,” he whispered. “No return address. Just… that I’m safe. That’s all I can do for now.”

Matt nodded, forehead pressed to his. “That was brave.”

Kitt huffed a small laugh. “Terrifying.”

Matt kissed him, slow and warm. “I’m proud of you.”

Kitt melted into him.

A long, quiet moment passed between them, filled with everything they had been too young, too afraid, too lost to say.

Finally Matt whispered, “We’ll build something new. Together. Away from all the noise. Away from the fear.”

Kitt nodded, eyes closing against Matt’s shoulder. “Together.”

“Please remember that this is your pace, not mine. I’ll follow you wherever you go.”

The lake breathed beneath them.
The stars blinked awake overhead.
And for the first time in nearly a year, Kitt let himself imagine a future where love didn’t mean choosing between survival and happiness…
but finding both in the same pair of arms.

. . .

The walk back to from the bus station to his apartment was slow, dreamlike. Kitt kept touching his lips without realizing it, brushing the ghost of Matt’s kiss with his fingers. Every step made his heart flutter harder, replaying the heat of Matt’s breath, the tremble in his hands, the way he whispered Kitt’s name like it was something holy.

At the base of his building, he paused, pressing a hand to his warm cheeks. He knew he probably looked ridiculous—flushed, dazed, glowing—but he didn’t care. Not tonight.

He climbed the stairs.

The stairwell creaked under Kitt’s feet as he climbed toward the third floor. His mind was still drifting — full of Matt’s voice, Matt’s hands, the soft press of his lips — when he reached the top step.

Before he could knock, Mateo’s door swung open, as if he’d been standing behind it the whole time listening for footsteps.

Mateo leaned against the frame, arms crossed, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. His eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

Kitt blinked. “What?”

Mateo pointed at him like accusing a ghost. “You got laid.”

Kitt choked. “Mateo—!”

“Don’t lie to me.” Mateo dragged him inside by the sleeve, shut the door, then held Kitt at arm’s length. “You have the look. The dazed, blissed-out, ‘I just did something I haven’t done before but very much enjoyed’ look.”

Kitt covered his face with both hands. “We didn’t— not— It wasn’t—”

Mateo gasped dramatically. “It was something.”

Kitt’s ears burned so hard they hurt. “It was… only oral.”

Mateo slapped a hand over his heart. “My boy. My sweet, lost, runaway little Minnesota blond orphan—”

“I’m not an orphan,” Kitt muttered.

“—and now you’ve been enlightened.”

Kitt groaned loudly and flopped onto Mateo’s bed. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Mateo said, sitting beside him with a grin softening into something fond. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

Kitt let out a breath that trembled more than he wanted to admit. “It was… amazing. And terrifying. And I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Mateo nudged his shoulder. “That’s what happens when it’s with the right person.”

Kitt’s voice came out smaller. “It was him. It’s always been him.”

Mateo smiled. “Then you’re lucky.”

. . .

After seeing Kitt off at the bus station, Matt walked home wearing the kind of silly grin he couldn’t hide even if he tried.

He didn’t even remember deciding to. His legs just carried him down the country road, across old fields, toward the quiet streets of Lakehurst. His hands stayed shoved in his pockets, but his face—he couldn’t stop smiling. He felt warm from the inside out, lit up with something that hummed beneath his skin.

Every few steps he let out a soft laugh he didn’t mean to.
Every few seconds he touched his lower lip.
Every few minutes he thought, I kissed him. I kissed Kitt.

His heartbeat danced with it.

But as he turned toward his house, that eased brightness changed shape.

Because Susan Wellington was sitting in his family’s living room.

He saw her through the front window before he even reached the porch — perched on the edge of the sofa, hands clasped tight in her lap, Eva beside her like a quiet anchor. His father stood leaning on the doorway, brows drawn with concern and sympathy.

Matt’s smile faded, replaced by a slow, cautious inhale.

Eva spotted him through the window and got up to open the door.

“Sweetheart,” she said softly, stepping aside.

Susan rose the moment Matt stepped inside. Her eyes were red — not from fresh tears, but from the kind that had been drying and falling in waves all night.

“Matt,” she breathed, voice small and shaking, “I was hoping you’d be home soon.”

He nodded, throat suddenly tight. “Mrs. Wellington.”

She took a shaky step forward, twisting a tissue in her hands. “Kitt… sent a postcard.”

Matt froze — a perfect stillness settling over him like snow.

“He… did?”

“He did.” Her voice cracked on the words. “Just a few sentences. No return address. But he said he’s safe. That he’s eating. That we… shouldn’t worry.”

Her mouth trembled, and she pressed the tissue to her lips, exhaling through it.

Matt forced himself to keep breathing, keep steady, keep careful. “I’m really glad,” he said quietly. “That must be a huge relief.”

Her eyes searched his face — not for guilt, but for hope. “Do you… know anything else? Has he… reached out to you?”

Matt’s heart thudded sharply, painfully.

He thought of Kitt’s hands on his face only an hour ago.
Kitt’s voice saying I love you.
Kitt’s mouth on his.
Kitt promising to see him again.

But Matt just shook his head gently.

“No. But I’m… I’m really glad he contacted you.”

It wasn’t fully a lie — but the truth was folded carefully inside him like a secret he would guard until Kitt said otherwise.

Susan nodded, wiping the corners of her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything you’ve done. I know you’ve cared about him more than anyone.”

Matt swallowed hard. “Always.”

Michael stepped forward, voice low and warm. “Susan, he’ll come back when he’s ready. He knows you love him. That matters.”

Her chin quivered again — not with grief this time, but with something like fragile hope.

Eva squeezed Susan’s shoulder gently. “Whenever you need us, we’re here.”

Susan nodded, then took a breath as if gathering herself. She walked toward the front door, paused, and looked across the street at her own house — where her son’s room sat dark, empty, and waiting.

“If you hear anything,” she whispered to Matt, “anything at all…”

“I’ll tell you,” Matt said quietly.

He would.
But only when Kitt said yes.

Susan crossed the street slowly, shoulders small but steps steadier than before, and Matt stood in the doorway watching her go — relief and ache twisting together in his chest.

Kitt wasn’t ready to come home.

But he wasn’t lost anymore.

And that was enough, for now.

. . .

Kitt lay awake that night in his small bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, the taste of Matt still warm on his lips. Every nerve in his body felt alive, humming, glowing. But threaded through the happiness was a knot of uncertainty.

What now?
Where do I go from here?
How fast is too fast?
What if I break this again?

But then he remembered Matt’s voice, gentle and steady:
This is your pace, not mine.

He exhaled slowly.
For the first time, letting himself believe he didn’t have to rush.
Didn’t have to run.
Didn’t have to hide.

Somewhere in Lakehurst, Matt lay awake too—smiling into the dark like a fool, heart bursting open, wondering how he could ever wait until the next time they met.

Two boys.
Two towns.
One fragile, beautiful beginning.

Everything uncertain.
Everything possible.