35. Heaven's Way (part two)

Kyle's firm tone made Lucas's heart flutter. Over the window, the wind howled faintly, a fleeting echo outside, before fading into the muffled hum of passing cars; its rhythm mirrored Lucas's quickening heartbeat. Lucas grabbed Kyle's hair without thinking and pulled him in for a kiss. To his surprise, Kyle played along, letting Lucas take the lead. The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling until the need for air pulled them apart.

Lucas buried his face in Kyle's neck, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. The earthy, faint scent of Kyle's cologne grounded him. The bedside lamp cast a golden glow, softening the edges of the space and wrapping them in a world that felt momentarily safe.  The warmth of Kyle's arms around him quieted the storm inside, if only for a moment. Memories of past love—unspoken words, fleeting promises, and heartbreak—surfaced unbidden, tangling with the present.

"There's something I need to tell you about my past." Lucas began, his voice faltering as he avoided Kyle's gaze. He toyed with the edge of the bedsheet, his fingers brushing against the worn fabric. In the distance, the muffled hum of passing cars filled the silence, stretching like a taut string.

Kyle held him close, sensing the shift in Lucas's energy. A flicker of doubt pierced his confidence. Kyle gazed at the faint glint of Lucas's silver pendant, a small but steady anchor in the dim light, before tightening his hold briefly and loosening it. "The men who hurt you... and my secrets—they've only added to your pain. Can you forgive me, darling?" The thought tightened in his chest—a pang of guilt, perhaps, or the fear that his secrecy had only deepened Lucas's scars—but he forced himself to hold his composure for Lucas's sake. He loosened his grip slightly, giving Lucas the space he seemed to need.

"You don't have to tell me if you're not ready," Kyle said gently, his voice a soft murmur. He took Lucas's hand, tracing light circles in his palm. "But whatever it is, it won't change how I feel about you."

Lucas's breathing steadied, and some tension eased from his shoulders. The room seemed quieter now, the hum of the traffic a distant whisper. Kyle studied his face—the faint flush of his cheeks, the way his lips parted as if searching for words. He wanted to draw Lucas back into the safety of their moment, but pushing too hard wouldn't be fair.

Still, he wasn't ready to let the mood slip away entirely. Kyle shifted the moment's weight, hoping to bring back Lucas's smile.

Kyle offered a tentative grin. "What do you say we try something different? Maybe one of those recipes Lilian sent over?"

Lucas blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. He couldn't help but crack a small smile, a flicker of gratitude warming the edges of his weariness. "You? Do you want to cook now?"

"Call it... team-building, with a dash of us," Kyle said, his grin widening as he caught Lucas's fleeting smile.

Lucas hesitated, the remnants of their earlier intimacy lingering like an unfinished melody. Part of him wanted to stay wrapped in that warmth, but another knew that building something together, even as small as a meal, might mean more than words could express. Though doubt lingered in the corners of his mind like a stubborn shadow, Lucas chose to step forward. Lucas nodded silently, bringing a happy grin to Kyle's face.

In the dim light, they dressed again and went to the living room and kitchen, holding hands. For Lucas, it felt like a quiet declaration of courage, a choice to build rather than retreat—the quiet warmth contrasted with the fiery passion of their earlier intimacy, making his chest swollen and drawing a grin on his face. It reminded him of a different kind of closeness built through tangible, quiet moments and the daily actions of care. The warmth spread through his chest, making him take the space in the kitchen with confident strides.

Kyle's shoulders relaxed when he saw Lucas willing to engage in the kitchen tasks. The worn fabric of his shirt felt like a veil covering his desire, and he breathed deeply. Then, he caught Lucas's smile; he felt a flicker of hope that their bond was growing stronger despite their previous struggles.

Entering the kitchen, Kyle perused through the papers scattered on the kitchen counter until he found one that made him chuckle. "Look at this title." The words "Celestial Empanadas" glinted on the recipe paper, a whimsical yet fitting name. Fire and air magic, Kyle thought, smiling to himself. Lilian always knew how to weave a more profound meaning into the simplest things.

Kyle handed the paper to Lucas. He raised an eyebrow and grinned, "It can be done, I guess," his cheeks flushed, "If we work together."

A moment later, Lucas felt the kitchen had never been so alive. The air buzzed faintly with the aroma of tomatoes, onions, goat cheese, basil, and other ingredients laid out like treasures on the counter. The ingredients' smell comforted him, and the hum of activity grounded him. He glanced at Kyle, who was inspecting a sprig of fresh basil with exaggerated seriousness.

"Basil?" Kyle declared, not knowing whether to bring about the old custom of using the herb in wedding cakes and love potions, "A bit bold. Are you sure you want to use it"?"

Lucas closed his eyes. Working in the kitchen with Kyle would be challenging, but a smile tugged at his lips. "It's fine. But maybe you need to relax and stop sniffing it like that."

Kyle grinned, handing the basil to Lucas. "Alright, master chef. Show me how it's done."

Lucas mixed the flour and salt in a wide bowl, his hands moving confidently. He added cubes of cold butter, motioning for Kyle to join him.

"We need a light touch," Lucas explained. "Use your fingertips like this. Gently."

Kyle copied him. It had been a while since he had managed dough, and he tried, though his movements were a bit clumsier than Lucas'. "Like this?"

Lucas laughed softly. "Close enough."

Kyle grinned. If nothing else, he liked seeing Lucas smile. They had been through a lot in just a few days, and Lucas was still there, healing, working, and hopefully putting his worries aside. He noticed his movements were precise if gentle. Lucas's injuries from Teufel's torture were no longer restricting his movements. He sighed. Lilian's potions and magic had done their job, but he knew many things inside Lucas's heart still made him ache.

Kyle's hands itched to pull Lucas closer, to shield him from every lingering scar of pain. Still, he forced himself to hold back, knowing that Lucas needed space to reclaim his strength—a quality Kyle admired, even if letting go felt like stepping onto uncertain ground. He breathed deeply and focused on the task at hand. Little by little, his dough had become a uniform, pliable yellow mass. He smiled faintly; it wasn't so bad. Lucas was a pretty good teacher, after all.

Lucas scanned the recipe, his brow furrowing. The next step wasn't just about cooking—it required magic. He glanced at Kyle, his chest tightening with excitement and nerves. "This second step... might be tricky."

Kyle came to him and gave him a peck on his cheek. "Count me in." He was also nervous but focused on supporting Lucas's attempt to combine their magic.

It was time to add sparkling water; according to the recipe, he had to use his magic to direct the water and mix the gas bubbles using its magic and Kyle's. Lucas paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. He glanced at Kyle, who offered a slight nod of encouragement.

"I'll follow your lead," Kyle said, his voice warm. "Just let it flow."

Kyle came forward and placed his hand on Lucas's waist. In Lucas's ear, he whispered, "Breath." He synced his breathing to Lucas's. The scent of forest-Lucas cologne filled him, bringing flashes of their lives together. Lucas's existence was inherently magical, and if Kyle could do something for him, it would pave the way for his growth. Then, he let go of his magic and wrapped it around Lucas's. A soft glow illuminated their hands.

The water stuttered mid-air, a reflection of his doubts. Lucas clenched his jaw. "I don't know why this keeps happening."

Kyle rested a calming hand on his back. "Stop overthinking it, Lucas. Let it breathe."

Lucas's breathing steadied, the faint scent of earth came to him through Kyle's cologne, and calm washed over him. Kyle had had that effect on him for a long time, inspiring him to achieve what looked impossible in the first place with a quiet promise of support.

The sparkling water danced, catching the light like liquid starlight. Lucas guided the bubbles into the dough, Kyle's steady energy merging with his, leaving him calm yet assertive.

"You're a natural," Kyle said, his grin wide.

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "It's just dough."

"Magic dough," Kyle teased, bumping his shoulder lightly against Lucas's. "Bet it'll become sentient and advise us if we let it rest too long."

Lucas couldn't help but laugh, the sound lighter than it had been all day. "If this turns out awful, it's on you," he teased, though his smile betrayed how much he appreciated Kyle's encouragement.

Kyle feigned offense, his grin never faltering. "Trust me. With us? It'll be perfect."

Kyle then busied himself chopping sun-dried tomatoes and crumbling goat cheese as Lucas caramelized the onions. He couldn't help but notice how the steam from the pan seemed to hover around Lucas, curling and swirling almost playfully, as if the air was drawn to him. Kyle's lips twitched into a grin.

"My man is a Casanova," Kyle teased his voice light but tinged with admiration.

Lucas shot him a puzzled look, his brow arching. "I beg your pardon?"

Kyle feigned innocence, popping a piece of goat cheese into his mouth. "Nothing." His grin widened as Lucas glared at him. He marveled at Lucas— the way he moved, the quiet resilience that shone through every gesture. Humor was safer, an easier bridge to build between them, even as his heart swelled with something too profound to put into words. It wasn't the moment to tell him just yet.

"That's for the empanadas, not you," Lucas scolded, though his tone was more exasperated than angry.

Kyle shrugged, utterly unrepentant. "Quality control. You wouldn't want bad cheese slipping through, would you?"

Lucas shook his head, a reluctant smile softening his expression. "You're impossible."

Lucas felt utterly relaxed while standing before the pan, mixing the onions. Happy memories of their time together flowed freely in his head: their first meeting, their mornings together, and now, things had changed. He sighed deeply. Kyle's secrecy almost made him flee, but he had also tried tirelessly to make up for that.

Lucas touched the spot where Kyle's kiss lingered. Trust wasn't rebuilt through passion alone, but Kyle's quiet commitment—how he chopped tomatoes, fixed the apartment, or taught him magic—reminded Lucas why he stayed. His efforts to restore the apartment, teach him magic, and be patient made Lucas's heart flutter. He would remain, even if it were still hard.

Lucas smiled, his thumb tracing slow circles on the counter's edge. His gaze flickered to Kyle, his shoulders loosening, his fingers clenched briefly—a quiet reminder of the walls between hope and trust. He leaned into the warmth of Kyle's words, the doubt lingering in his eyes dimming just enough to let hope flicker through.

As they mixed the filling, their hands brushed occasionally—a fleeting touch that sent a quiet thrill through them. Kyle couldn't help but relish the soft contact with Lucas; he wanted to get more of it, so he purposely made a strange figure with the dough.

"Is it supposed to look like a map of Spain?" Kyle asked, feigning innocence.

Lucas burst out laughing, the sound bright and unguarded. "Not quite. Here, let me help."

Lucas reached over, his hands steadying Kyle's, their fingers overlapping. The lingering sensation brought a jolt of electricity to both of them. Lucas smiled, contrasting this moment with his guarded feelings from the past days. He realized that laughter catalyzed his healing as he learned to trust Kyle again.

Kyle watched Lucas laugh, his eyes alight with a joy he hadn't seen in days. Yet he felt something tighten in his chest, his breath hitching. His hands hovered over the counter, fingers curling briefly into fists before relaxing. He was caught between the urge to reach out and the fear of holding on too tightly.

Lucas didn't realize how much he shone, how effortlessly he seemed to pull the fractured pieces of their world into something whole. Lucas moved through the world with an unintentional magnetism, the kind that might draw humans and beings who lived beyond the veil.

Pride warmed Kyle's chest, but doubt crept in—a quiet fear that his cracks might let this light slip through. He exhaled sharply, steadying himself against the counter as he resolved to hold on—to Lucas, to hope, and to try.

"Do you think magic tastes better when it's shared?" Kyle asked suddenly, his voice quieter, almost reverent.

Lucas paused, his gaze lifting to meet Kyle's. Again, there was that glint of mischief and an invitation to try him. Being treated like a treasure felt like a gift, but at the same time, it made him feel self-conscious of every tiny flaw, outside and inside. Was he enough?

His expression softened, and a quiet vulnerability shone through. "There is only one way to find out," he replied, his voice just as soft.

They lined the empanadas on a baking sheet, their golden edges brushed with egg yolk. As the oven hummed to life, Kyle and Lucas leaned against the counter, savoring the quiet moment. Lucas leaned in, letting his head rest on Kyle's shoulders. He allowed himself to linger there, the weight of the moment sinking in like a balm against the echoes of past wounds.

"You were right," Lucas admitted, glancing at Kyle. "Cooking together... it's nice."

Kyle tilted his head, his grin playful. "Nice? I'll take it." He let the moment linger, then winked, "But we're not done yet. You have to taste the magic."

When the empanadas emerged from the oven, their golden crusts shimmered under the kitchen light, flecked with crisped flour. The rich aroma wafted through the room. Lucas hesitated for a moment, marveling at the sight before him.

Kyle picked up an empanada, breaking it open to reveal the steaming, aromatic filling. "Moment of truth," he said, grinning and holding it to Lucas.

As Lucas took his first bite, the flavors unfolded on his tongue—a symphony of buttery pastry, sweet caramelized onions, and the sharp tang of goat cheese strung together by the minty basil. But more than the taste, the warmth spread through him as if the magic they'd woven together lingered in each bite, binding them in quiet harmony. The empanadas' flavors mirrored his life, blending sweet and sour into one whole. He glanced at Kyle, his smile tinged with wonder. "This... this is amazing," he said, his voice filled with awe.

"Told you," Kyle said, his grin widening. "Magic."

He looked at the paper on which the receipt was written; it lay forgotten on the counter. Lilian named this exercise "Celestial Empanadas," a blend of their fire and air magic, either by choice or destiny. They made a formidable team, and their affection grew with each moment. Days ago, he lashed out at Kyle for not telling him who he was; now, though he was slightly ashamed of his reaction, he understood Kyle's hesitation and affection. Kyle loved him back, and his kisses felt like heaven.

Lucas smiled more than he had in weeks. It wasn't just the food that made him happy—it was the feeling of being seen, supported, and understood.

A satisfied thrum came from Kyle's insides. Although working in the kitchen together was a new experience, it only reinforced his belief that their partnership was worth the sweat and tiredness. Kyle reached for Lucas's hand, his touch light but deliberate. "We make a good team."

Lucas glanced at the tray of empanadas, a playful question forming. "Think we can save a few for customers tomorrow?"

"It will be hard not to finish them all, but we should try cooking together as soon as possible," Kyle replied with a grin.

Lucas's fingers brushed Kyle's, a deliberate gesture that felt like a quiet promise. The buttery empanadas grounded him in the moment as Kyle poured two glasses of wine.

As Lucas reached for his glass, the faint aroma of caramelized onions hovered in the air. He sipped, the wine's warmth unfurling in his chest like a tentative balm. "I've been thinking a lot about why I struggle to trust," he began, his voice steady but carrying the weight of unspoken scars. "It's because of the people I've let in before..."

Kyle eased into the seat across from Lucas, their glasses clinking softly. The quiet settled between them like an unspoken agreement.

"Red flags attract me," Lucas admitted, his voice trembling slightly as he broke off a piece of the empanada. The pastry crumbled delicately under his touch, a sharp contrast to the heaviness of his confession.

Kyle chuckled softly, taking a sip of wine. "And here I thought I was the perfect boyfriend," he teased, though his eyes searched Lucas's face with quiet warmth.

"You are," Lucas replied with a soft laugh that faded into reflection. He glanced at the plate, his thumb brushing its edge. "But before you, I had a knack for chasing the wrong people."

Lucas's voice dropped. "It started with my family." He hesitated, his fingers brushing the glass stem. "I wasn't the son my father wanted, so I searched for validation elsewhere." He glanced at his glass, the faint reflection of the kitchen light catching his eye as he waited for Kyle's response.

Kyle touched Lucas's shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly. "A pair of guys with daddy issues; what a couple we are," he said with a soft smile, his tone a blend of humor and quiet understanding.