Was Once the King: Chapter 22: The Quiet After the Storm
Mornings began without alarms now.
Sunlight pooled across the hardwood floors as Hector
stirred first, barefoot and quiet, padding into the kitchen to put on the
kettle. He’d grown fond of the little sounds—the water hissing into the pot,
the rustle of leaves outside their window, the sleepy shuffle of Benjamin’s
steps minutes later.
“Smells like peace.” Benjamin murmured, wrapping his arms
around Hector from behind, chin resting on his shoulder.
“That’s just the rosemary tea.” Hector teased.
“No, that’s you.”
They moved through the morning slowly, deliberately. No
rush, no press interviews. Just a shared rhythm that had finally learned to
trust stillness.
They made breakfast together—eggs, toast, and those
emotionally supportive cinnamon oats Benjamin insisted on buying. They ate on
the balcony, bare feet brushing beneath the table, laughter breaking over
soft-spoken silences.
“I used to dread mornings.” Hector said quietly. “The
quiet before the media storm.”
Benjamin nodded. “Now we get to define what the quiet
means.”
Later that day, they went grocery shopping. Benjamin
insisted on pushing the cart, even though he forgot something in every aisle.
“We already have oats.” Hector said, eyeing the box
Benjamin was trying to add.
“Not the cinnamon kind.” Benjamin argued. “And besides,
these have a bear on the box. They look emotionally supportive.”
“You are impossible.”
“Charming.” Benjamin corrected, winking.
They paused in the biscuit aisle, both reaching for the
same packet at once. Hector glanced over. “Did you just try to beat me to the
chocolate hazelnuts?”
“I’d never.”
“You always do.”
“Fine.” Benjamin relented. “You win. But only because you
smile when you do.”
They passed a child in the cereal aisle who pointed at
them and whispered something to her mother. The woman gave them a small smile.
Not pity. Not curiosity. Just warmth.
Outside the store, they sat on a low brick wall, sipping
overpriced coffee and watching people pass by.
“Do you miss it?” Benjamin asked.
“What?”
“The noise. The stage. The spotlight.”
Hector thought for a moment. “Sometimes. But not the way
I used to. I don’t need it to feel seen anymore.”
That evening, they cooked together. Hector chopped
vegetables with his usual surgical precision, while Benjamin played a playlist
that veered wildly between classic rock and obscure jazz.
“Are we having a dinner party or raising the dead?”
Hector asked as a particularly chaotic saxophone solo burst through the
speakers.
“Both. It’s fusion.”
They ate barefoot at the counter, laughing over burnt
onions and telling stories about dramas they'd never finish watching.
After dinner, they danced to a song neither of them knew.
Just slow swaying in the dim kitchen light, Hector's fingers curling into the
fabric of Benjamin's shirt like a quiet tether.
“See?” Benjamin said. “This is romance.”
“You, holding me while we sway to offbeat piano jazz?”
“No. You not running from it.”
Later, Benjamin read aloud from a novel he’d picked up on
a whim. Hector laid his head in his lap, fingers idly tracing patterns on
Benjamin’s thigh.
He didn’t fall asleep. Not fully. Just floated in the
warmth of Benjamin’s voice, letting the words settle like soft blankets over a
long day.
“I’m boring you.” Benjamin teased.
“No.” Hector whispered. “You’re home.”
They paused the reading when Benjamin couldn’t stop
laughing at the protagonist’s dramatic monologue about buttered scones.
“We need a vacation.” He said, wiping tears from his
eyes.
“We just got peace.” Hector grinned.
“Exactly. Let’s keep it fresh.”
As night fell, they climbed the rooftop again, a blanket
tucked under one arm and two steaming mugs in hand.
They didn’t speak for a while. The city moved below, a
silent theatre of blinking windows and distant laughter. Above them, stars
scattered in the haze.
“You know,” Benjamin said softly, “I used to think quiet
like this meant loneliness.”
“And now?”
“Now it just feels like... safety.”
Hector leaned against him. “We fought for this.”
“We did.”
“And I’d do it all again.”
Benjamin took Hector’s hand and kissed the knuckles. “So
would I.”
They spent another hour just wrapped in the hush,
reminiscing about strange set bloopers and weird fan encounters, trading soft
laughter beneath the moonlight.
Near midnight, Hector stood brushing his teeth, hair
mussed and face drowsy. Benjamin leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and
smiling.
“What?” Hector asked, spitting into the sink.
Benjamin grinned. “I was just thinking about how you used
to flinch when I touched you. Not in fear. Just... disbelief. Like you couldn’t
believe someone wanted to stay.”
Hector rinsed and met his gaze. “I did flinch. Because I
didn’t know how to trust it.”
“And now?”
“Now, I don’t want to blink in case I miss a moment of
it.”
Benjamin walked over, arms slipping around his waist.
“You won’t. I’ll be here for all of them.”
Hector kissed him then. Soft and slow.
No stage. No applause.
Just them.
Later, curled together in bed, Benjamin murmured against
Hector’s shoulder, “This isn’t a honeymoon phase, is it?”
“No.” Hector whispered. “This is just what we deserved
all along.”
Benjamin sighed contentedly, his fingers tracing slow
circles on Hector’s chest. “Sometimes I still can’t believe this is real.”
Hector tilted his head to kiss Benjamin’s forehead. “It’s
real. We made it real.”
Benjamin’s voice dropped lower, more vulnerable. “There
were so many nights I used to imagine what it would be like—coming home to you.
Hearing you laugh again. Watching you sleep beside me and knowing you’re safe.”
“And now?” Hector asked.
“Now I don’t have to imagine anymore. You’re here. We’re
here. And it’s everything.”
Hector smiled, tucking Benjamin closer. “You gave me the
space to come back to myself. To find peace.”
“You gave me the reason to stay.” Benjamin whispered.
Later, Benjamin murmured again, “Do you ever wonder how
we got here?”
Hector brushed his fingers through Benjamin’s hair.
“Every day.”
“It’s wild.” Benjamin whispered. “There was a time I
thought I’d never get close to you. And now... this is where I want to wake up
for the rest of my life.”
Hector smiled into the dark. “You waited. You stayed.
Even when I didn’t have the words.”
“I didn’t need the words.” Benjamin said softly. “I just
needed the space beside you.”
There was a long, gentle silence. Then Hector whispered,
“You know what kept me going through the worst of it?”
Benjamin lifted his head slightly, curious.
“The thought that someday, maybe someone would choose me.
Fully. Without needing me to be perfect. Without asking me to hide.”
He turned, pressing a slow kiss to Benjamin’s forehead.
“You were that someone.”
Benjamin exhaled, breath trembling slightly. “And you...
you were worth every second of waiting.”
They didn’t say anything more. They didn’t need to.
In the hush that followed, in the sanctuary they’d built
from splinters and flame, they slept.
Together.
Safe.
Home.
Comments
Post a Comment