The nights were the hardest.
Keal would lie awake in the dim glow of the apartment, staring at the ceiling, the silence pressing against his skin like a second weight. The sheets no longer smelled like Rivan. The laughter that once echoed through the hallways was gone, replaced by a quiet that stretched endlessly.
And Loira… she was gone too. Her warmth, her teasing smile, her voice that always soothed him—it all felt like a distant dream. Some nights, he would clutch the edge of the pillow and close his eyes, pretending it was her arm wrapped around him, her breath near his ear. He missed them both, and he hated the loneliness that came with being without them.
Rivan and Loira weren't doing much better.
They had each other—yes—but something was always missing. Keal's absence was a wound that never healed. His laugh. His touch. His fire. Every touch they shared felt like a shadow without him. On some nights, Loira would curl up in Rivan's lap, whispering, "Do you think he's sleeping okay? He always curled his legs like this, remember?"
Rivan would nod, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I miss him every damn second."
There were calls. Long, slow, late-night conversations. Whispered words in the dark, muffled sobs when they thought the other wasn't listening.
"I keep watching that old video," Keal whispered once, voice cracking. "The one where you both surprised me for my birthday. You kissed me on both cheeks at the same time… I've watched it every day this week."
Loira had cried then, quietly. "Come back to us," she had said. "Even if just for a second."
But life had tangled their paths in different directions.
Sometimes, the distance burned. Keal would feel his heart ache when he saw couples walking by. He would remember the way Loira used to walk ahead and pull him by the hand, how Rivan would lean into him, fingers grazing his. The memory of their touches—so familiar, so missed—would make him sink to the floor, back against the wall, whispering their names to the dark.
For Rivan and Loira, the nights brought more than memories. Sometimes, in the middle of their shared warmth, they'd speak of him. Rivan would whisper into Loira's skin, "He would have wrapped around both of us right now."
Loira would nod, tears mixing with kisses. "I dream of him coming home."
They would hold each other tighter, not to replace Keal, but to remember him better.
Years passed. Five long years.
But one night, just as the city had fallen into another hush, the doorbell rang.
Loira froze on the couch. Rivan's heart skipped. They looked at each other, breath caught in their throats.
When they opened the door, there he stood.
Keal.
Older. More tired. But those eyes—they still held everything.
Loira reached first, throwing herself into his arms. Rivan followed, wordless, just tears and warmth and years melting in one embrace.
And in that moment, the loneliness of five years vanished in the heat of their reunion.
---
Rivan's fingers brushed against Liora's as he reached for a piece of biscuit, and neither of them pulled away. Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them—something heavy with longing and unspoken need.
He didn't smile.
He didn't look away.
Instead, his thumb slid slowly across the back of her hand, and his voice came soft. "Do you know how many nights I fell asleep just imagining your touch?"
Liora's breath caught. "Every night you were gone, I imagined holding you like this. And it still didn't come close."
Rivan leaned in without hesitation, his hand slipping around the back of her neck. Their lips met—gentle at first, like a breath shared between them. Then deeper, fuller. Liora's hands curled into his shirt, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened into something that burned slow and hot.
From beside them, Keal watched with a quiet gaze, his cup forgotten. There was no jealousy—only the ache of having missed Rivan just as deeply. He reached out and placed a steadying hand on Rivan's thigh.
Rivan pulled back from Liora just enough to look at him. His chest rose and fell quickly, pupils blown wide.
"Keal…" he breathed.
Keal leaned in, his hand now cradling Rivan's cheek. "I want to feel you again too, Riv."
And Rivan moved—turned his body toward him, his hand never leaving Liora's, as his lips met Keal's in a kiss that was entirely different. Not tender and fragile like it had been with Liora —this one was desperate, rough around the edges, like they were trying to fix something that had cracked.
Keal groaned softly into the kiss, his hand sliding up under Rivan's shirt, feeling the tight muscle, the warmth of skin that still felt like home.
When they parted, both breathless, Rivan sat back, his arms stretched out—one hand gripping Liora's, the other resting on Keal's chest.
"I missed you both so much," he whispered. "Every part of me missed every part of you."
Liora shifted closer, her head resting against Rivan's shoulder. "Then let us show you you're not alone anymore."
Rivan kissed her again, longer this time. One hand slid along her side, under her shirt, tracing each rib like it was sacred. She moaned softly against his lips, her hands already slipping beneath his waistband.
Keal came behind Rivan now, his chest pressing to Rivan's back, lips trailing soft, slow kisses down his neck. His fingers moved in sync with Liora's—one exploring skin, the other gripping Rivan's jaw as he leaned in again for another kiss.
Rivan gasped between them, pulled taut between fire and comfort. "Don't stop," he whispered. "Please don't stop."
"You've waited long enough," Liora said, her voice hot against his skin. "Let us love you."
And so they did.
They undressed him slowly, reverently. Liora kissed each new inch of revealed skin. Keal held him close, lips brushing down his spine. Every touch from them was a welcome back, a prayer, a promise.
Rivan made soft sounds—broken moans and whispered names—as he melted into the warmth of their hands. Liora was in his lap, her thighs bracketing him, while Keal wrapped around him from behind, kissing the space just below his ear, whispering praises and confessions.
"I love you," Rivan whispered, first to Liora with a kiss that left them both breathless.
Then again, turning his face toward Keal, eyes wet and voice shaking. "I love you."
Keal kissed him in answer—deep and slow. "And we're yours. Always."
They stayed like that for a long time—intertwined, flushed, mouths meeting again and again. Each kiss was a reunion. Each touch, a story of longing and belonging.
No one rushed.
There was only breath, heat, and the slow rediscovery of the body that had been missed by two hearts for far too long.
The night stretched on, and the stars outside turned their gaze away.
Inside, love burned quietly—shared between three souls, two pairs of hands, and one man who had finally come home.