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No magic blue books spewing swirling green mist.
Just the quiet symphony of rain tapping softly against the worn wooden roof, a gentle lullaby that muffled the outside world.
And the steady, rhythmic thump of two hearts beating in unspoken understanding, echoing in the stillness of their tiny, rented house.
Sam was sprawled across Fred’s chest, his fingertips tracing delicate, trembling love hearts into the silky, warm curls of Fred’s golden chest hair.
The scent of rain mixed with Fred’s faint cologne—woodsy and smoky—filled the air, grounding him in this fragile moment.
The warmth of Fred’s skin beneath him was a steady anchor, a reminder that in this quiet space, their love existed in pure, unspoken truth.
“Hey, Fred?” Sam’s voice was a fragile whisper, trembling with hesitation, like a leaf caught in a wind he couldn’t control.
“Yeah?” Fred’s voice was soft, full of quiet anticipation, his sky-blue eyes searching Sam’s face with gentle curiosity.
They weren’t officially a couple. Not yet.
They went to the movies, shared slices of pizza that tasted like comfort, and their nights sometimes dipped into something deeper—something tender and raw.
But no labels.
Sam looked away, eyes fixed on the shadows flickering across the ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat of fear and longing.
He’d been afraid to speak first—afraid that if he voiced what he truly felt, it might shatter this delicate, beautiful thing they’d built.
Fred, with his easy smile and carefree charm, seemed to drift through life unburdened by such fears.
If someone stopped talking to him, Fred would shrug and move on, as if nothing had changed—yet inside, Fred felt everything. Every glance, every touch, every silent moment like a storm threatening to break.
Fred’s love for Sam burned quietly, a steady ember in his chest, glowing brighter with each heartbeat.
He knew it—felt it in every glance, every breath—yet the words refused to come out, lodged deep in his throat, trembling and heavy with the weight of unspoken promises.
“I—” Sam hesitated, his voice catching in his throat. Then he closed his mouth, shoulders sagging like a fragile flower wilted by doubt.
“I’m going to have a shower,” he whispered, voice trembling, and slowly pushed himself upright, leaving behind the warmth of Fred’s embrace.
Fred watched him go, his stomach twisting with ache and longing, hearing the sound of water cascading onto the shower floor.
Sam seemed content with the quiet, with their unspoken love.
Yet Fred’s mind was heavy with dreams of more—dreams of calling Sam his boyfriend, of stolen kisses that lingered, of futures filled with laughter, love, maybe even children.
He imagined a bigger house, a life built side by side, and the sting of jealousy when others claimed what he craved.
His heart ached with every second that passed.
The silence in the room pressed down on him like a weighted blanket, stifling and suffocating.
He turned onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow, trying to convince himself to stay dry-eyed, to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.
And then he heard it.
Sam was crying in the shower, heartbreak echoing through the walls, an uncontrollable, raw sound that tore at Fred’s soul.
He knew the weight of past wounds on Sam’s shoulders, the scars that ran deeper than skin—wounds from relationships that had broken him, fears that haunted his nights.
Fred couldn’t promise he wouldn’t hurt Sam someday, but he could promise to try—to heal, to be honest, to communicate better.
Slowly, he moved towards the bathroom, his bare feet silent on the cold tiles, heart pounding like a drum in his chest.
He gently pushed open the door, praying Sam hadn’t locked it, then slipped inside.
The steam curled around them, warm and thick, cloaking everything in a soft, hazy glow.
Fred’s hand reached out cautiously, fingers trembling as they wrapped around Sam’s trembling back.
He pulled him close—so close Fred could’ve sworn their souls were touching—the warmth of their bodies mingling in the humid air, the scent of rain and soap swirling around them.
Sam startled at first, a small gasp escaping his lips, but he didn’t pull away.
Instead, he let Fred hold him, trembling like a leaf caught in a storm, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the water falling around him.
Fred’s voice was a whisper, steady and full of love.
“I love you,” he said softly, the words flowing like a balm.
It was simple. Honest. Pure.
Sam’s breath hitched, a choked sob escaping as he whispered, “Don’t.”
Fred hesitated, searching Sam’s tear-streaked face, the trembling chin, the trembling hands, trying to hold back the ache in his own chest.
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I just needed you to know.”
“Love… it’s complicated,” Sam whispered back, voice breaking, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Love hurts.”
Fred nodded, heart aching painfully in his chest.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore. Maybe we should go back to just being friends.”
“No!” Sam’s voice shattered the quiet, echoing with desperate longing, tears shimmering in his eyes. “I don’t want to go back!”
Fred’s eyes searched his—blue gazing into brown, hope and fear tangled in their depths.
“Why don’t you want to be with me?”
Sam’s voice trembled, cracking under the weight of his fears.
“It’s not you. It’s me. I’m scared, Fred. Terrified. What if we ruin everything? What if I lose you? What if I can’t make you happy? What if you find someone else?”
Fred’s lips brushed softly against Sam’s—gentle, healing, tender—an anchor in the storm.
“What if it all works out?” Fred whispered, voice trembling with hope. “What if we’re meant to be?”
Sam hesitated, voice fragile.
“You know I don’t believe in soulmates.”
Fred smiled softly, eyes shining with quiet hope.
“If I’m wrong, you get to say ‘I told you so.’”
A faint, trembling smile appeared on Sam’s lips, but his eyes betrayed him—fear, longing, vulnerability all swirling together just like the mist pouring out of Joe’s magic book.
“Promise me,” Sam begged, voice cracking, trembling with raw emotion. “Promise me you won’t leave. No matter how hard things get. No matter how mad I make you. Just… don’t leave.”
Fred’s heart clenched painfully at the plea.
“Sam,” he began, knowing that no promise could truly guarantee forever.
“Promise me,” Sam pressed, voice fierce with desperation, “or we’re not doing this.”
Fred looked into Sam’s watery eyes and saw the raw, trembling heart inside.
“I want us to be together,” Sam whispered, voice trembling with hope and dread. “I want a future. You have to promise you won’t leave.”
Fred’s heart shattered a little more—overcome with love, longing, and the ache of vulnerability.
“I could never leave you, Sam,” Fred whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You’re my everything.”
Sam’s sobs echoed softly as he clung to Fred, tears falling like rain down his face, soaking into Fred’s skin.
“I’m so scared I’ll lose you,” he whispered brokenly. “Please, Fred. Don’t let me go.”
Fred reached out again, pinky finger extended—a fragile promise in the rain.
Sam rolled his eyes, but a small, trembling smile tugged at his lips.
“I, Fred, of sound mind and body, swear I shall never leave you,” Fred promised softly.
Sam’s lips quivered as he hooked his finger around Fred’s, sealing their vow in that quiet, rain-drenched moment.
“Thanks, Fred,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion, tears still glistening in his eyes.