Kiaan stepped forward and grabbed Kavi's wrist, firm, but not rough.
Kavi froze, startled, then turned sharply, his expression already defensive. "What the hell are you—"
But Kiaan didn't let him finish. He leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn't gentle.
It wasn't planned.
It was rushed. Messy. Full of everything they hadn't said—anger, guilt, want, all crashing at once.
Kavi stiffened. For a second, he almost pushed Kiaan away. His fists balled up against Kiaan's chest. But then… he didn't.
His hands opened, grabbing fistfuls of Kiaan's shirt. He kissed him back harder. Desperate. Like something in him had snapped.
Their mouths moved fast, clumsy, hungry. Teeth bumped. Breaths hitched. It wasn't smooth or pretty. It was real. And it hurt—in that way grief sometimes does when it finally surfaces.
Kavi's back hit the wall with a thud. Kiaan's hand slipped under his shirt, fingers brushing skin.
Kavi gasped into his mouth. Kiaan paused for half a second, checking his eyes—but Kavi pulled him closer, like he couldn't stand the space between them.
"You left," Kavi said, breathless, voice breaking. "You just disappeared."
"I know." Kiaan's forehead touched his. "I know. I didn't know how to face you."
Kavi's jaw clenched. "Then why now? Why show up now like—like this?"
Kiaan swallowed. His voice was low. "Because I'm losing it. I've been trying to move on, but everything feels wrong. And being near you… it's the only thing that ever made sense."
That word sat heavy between them. Sense. Home. Us.
Kavi looked at him for a long second. Then he kissed him again. Slower, this time. More uncertain.
As they moved down the hallway, still kissing, bumping into walls and half-laughing through it, the tension didn't disappear—but it shifted.
Kavi's hands trembled when he found Kiaan's skin again. The urgency was still there, but now it was tangled with fear. With hope.
By the time they reached the bedroom, Kiaan's shirt was off, and Kavi's fingers traced familiar lines like he was relearning something he'd almost forgotten.
Kiaan hovered, his weight held just above him. "Kavi… if you want me to stop—"
Kavi shook his head. "I don't."
"You sure?"
"I don't want to think," Kavi whispered.
Kiaan exhaled. He kissed him—gently, this time. "Then don't."
Kiaan's hands moved slowly, memorizing every inch of skin that once belonged to him.
Kavi lay beneath him, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. His eyes never left Kiaan's face.
Neither of them rushed.
Kavi reached up and cupped the back of Kiaan's neck, guiding him into another kiss—slower now. Less about desperation, more about presence.
Kiaan pulled back just a little, forehead resting against Kavi's. His thumb brushed lightly over Kavi's ribs. "You're shaking."
"I know," Kavi whispered. "So are you."
Kiaan exhaled through his nose, smiling faintly. "I didn't think I'd ever get to touch you again."
"Don't say that," Kavi said, voice raw. "Don't make this feel like goodbye."
"I'm not," Kiaan promised, brushing his lips gently against Kavi's. "I just… I missed you."
They kissed again. This one softer. Lingering.
Kavi's head rested on Kiaan's shoulder, their fingers laced. The silence stretched, but it didn't feel empty.
"I don't know what happens after this," Kavi murmured.
Kiaan turned to kiss the top of his head. "We don't have to know. Not yet."
"I just want to stay here a little longer," Kavi added, eyes slipping closed.
"Then stay," Kiaan whispered. "I'm not going anywhere tonight."
And for the first time in a very long time, Kavi let himself believe it.
He reached for Kiaan.
No more hesitation. No more holding back.
His mouth met Kiaan's in a kiss that wasn't gentle—it was surrender. Kavi pulled him down, hands roaming with a desperation he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years. He didn't care about the wedding. Didn't care that Kiaan was his sister's fiancé. Didn't care about the consequences.
Right now, this was the truth.
Moans filled the air again—shaky, stifled, breathless. They moved together with a different kind of urgency this time. Not rushed. But insistent. Like they were making up for everything that was stolen from them.
Once wasn't enough.
The second time came slower. More intense. Their bodies already slick with sweat, but they didn't care. Kiaan cradled Kavi like something fragile,
By the third time, they were laughing through the exhaustion. Kiaan's chest shook with breathless chuckles as he whispered, "We're getting old."
Kavi smacked his arm playfully, then let his hand trail down to his chest and rest there. "Speak for yourself," he mumbled, lips brushing Kiaan's collarbone.
They collapsed into the sheets again, entirely bare. Not just in body, but in soul.
Their arms wrapped around each other, legs tangled. There were no boundaries anymore. No roles to play. Just them.
"I haven't touched anyone in three years," Kavi admitted into the silence, voice barely above a whisper.
Kiaan smirked. "Me neither."
It hit them both, how much time they had lost. How much they had tried to forget. And how none of it worked.
Because here they were, again. Wrecked, reunited, and unable to pretend anymore.
For now, fuck the wedding.
Let their families rot in their delusions.
Let society choke on its hypocrisy.
Because for the first time in years, they felt real. Alive.
Whole.
And as Kavi curled into Kiaan's chest, his hand pressed flat over Kiaan's heart, they both knew:
Whatever came next, this night was theirs.
Undeniably. Theirs.