Simon's words hovered in the dimly-lit hotel suite, breath and heartbeats tangled in the hush that followed. He stared at his hands, his knuckles white against the curve of his glass. "There was something about him, Tom. The man from Uganda, Yusufu Matovu. I can't explain it. It was like he recognised me, or maybe I recognised a shadow in him. I left the conversation unsettled, as if I'd brushed up against the edge of a story I was never told." Tom listened, attentive, his gaze steady. He reached across the table to close his hand over Simon's, his thumb tracing circles absently as if calming the tremor that ran beneath the surface. "Sometimes," Tom replied, his voice low, "the past finds us in faces we don't expect. It's why I want to talk to Phoebe. There are things she's never told you, never told me. I think… it's time." Simon looked up. The vulnerability in his eyes was raw, unguarded—the storm of histories and futures colliding inside him. He let out a shaky laugh, half-disbelieving. "You were always the one to turn toward the light, Tom. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you again." Tom's hand tightened over Simon's as the words he'd carried for years pressed at his throat. "I have something to tell you." The confession unfolded slow and fierce; a lifetime's worth of longing released in a single, trembling breath. "I love you, Simon. I have for as long as I can remember. I've tried to leave it behind, to bury it beneath friendship, duty and family, but it's always been you. Every time I close my eyes, every time I run, it's your name on my lips." Simon's response was silence at first—a charged, trembling quiet. Then he leaned in, closing the distance between them, his forehead resting against Tom's. "Call it the universe," Simon whispered, his voice rough with emotion, "or call it fate. I think we've been circling this fire since the moment we met. I haven't stopped thinking about you since you came back." The dam broke—years of yearning crackling into heat. Their lips met, tentative at first, then wild and unrestrained, as longing surged between them. Hands mapped familiar territory now made sacred by confession—touches at jawlines, a thumb rough against a cheek, Simon's fingers curled in Tom's hair. They tumbled to the bed, laughter and whispered names tangled in the night. Shirts were shed with feverish carelessness, bodies pressed close, skin to skin, the distance of lost years collapsing until there was only this: the heat of want, the solace of belonging, the exquisite ache of being known. They moved as if to memorise each other, as if every touch might mend what was broken, might forge something new in the aftermath of longing's wildfire. They lay together afterwards, their limbs entwined, the hush broken only by the syncopated pattern of their breaths. Outside, dawn threatened through the curtains. Inside, the past loosened its hold, just enough to allow hope a foothold. Simon pressed a kiss to Tom's shoulder, his voice barely more than a sigh. "Whatever comes next — whatever truths are waiting — I want you beside me." "Always," Tom promised, and in the soft glow of morning, it felt like a vow that might just hold the world together. As the sun crept higher, Simon's thoughts grew restless, drifting to the meeting that lay ahead. He was silent for a long while, staring at the ceiling, then he finally spoke. "I keep thinking about Shane. I wonder if he'll accept me. He's mixed race—he's always had each foot in two worlds. And here I am—black, and for so many people, that's all they see. What if he doesn't want a brother like me?" Simon's voice was small and vulnerable, weighted by the uncertainty of kinship found and the chasm of difference that might divide them. Tom slid his hand under Simon's, squeezing gently. "You're his brother, Simon. That's what will matter. You're more than what anyone sees. And you're not alone—not with me, not with Shane. You have us, no matter what." A slow smile curved Simon's lips, but doubt lingered in his eyes. "I guess I must believe that. I just… I want this to be real. I want him to look at me and see family." Tom reached over, brushing a stray curl from Simon's forehead. "He will. And if he doesn't right away, we'll give him time. We're building something new, all of us." Simon laughed softly, shifting in the bed to look at Tom, warmth flickering in his expression. "You know, if I'd known that making love was going to be that good, I wouldn't have waited so long. Honestly, Tom, you're dangerous." Tom grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, you were waiting for me. And now that you've found out, I suppose we'll have to do it every day—just to make up for lost time." Simon rolled his eyes affectionately. "Every day? You're ambitious!" "Absolutely. I have years to make up for," Tom replied, pulling Simon close, their laughter mingling with the sunlight filtering through the curtains. The following day arrived with a different kind of heat: dread, sharp and insistent, knotted behind their ribs. For Simon, the prospect of meeting Shane — of seeing, in the flesh, a brother conjured from stories and secrets — was a reckoning he'd both craved and feared. For Shane, the news was equally seismic; the existence of a sibling, a rewriting of family, an unmooring of everything he thought he knew. The hours crawled by, each tick bringing the moment closer, each glance between Tom and Simon heavy with unspoken anxieties and the memory of the night's confession. That evening, as they dressed in silence broken only by the clink of cufflinks and the distant hum of city life, Simon turned to Tom and caught his gaze. "Will you come with me? To see Phoebe?" Tom nodded. "I wouldn't let you go alone. This is your reckoning, but I'll be there—every step." Simon swallowed, a flicker of boyhood fear crossing his face. "She left me at a bus stop, Tom. I was a day old. I've spent a lifetime trying to make sense of that one moment." Tom crossed to him, his hands on Simon's shoulders, grounding him. "You're not alone. Not now. Whatever answers she holds, whatever the past was—it doesn't change who you are, or who we are together." Simon closed his eyes, letting Tom's words steady him. "Then let's go. Let's finish this chapter. For all of us." As they stepped into the corridor, ready to face truths long hidden, the fires that had once threatened to consume them now cast light ahead. It was enough, perhaps, to find their way home.
