Episode Five:The Return of the Past
924 Words
He stood like he owned the sidewalk.
Tall, lean, sharp edges dressed in designer confidence. A smug grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes didn’t leave Jace—not even to glance at me.
“Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” the man said, voice smooth and low.
Jace stiffened beside me.
“Lucas,” he said flatly.
Lucas stepped forward, arms crossed, tilting his head slightly.
“You going to introduce me to your new... companion?”
Jace didn’t answer, so I did.
“I’m Ethan.”
Lucas smiled. “Of course you are.”
---
The tension thickened instantly.
Jace stood still, but I could see it—the tightening in his jaw, the way his right hand twitched like he wanted to shove it deep in a pocket just to keep it from shaking.
Lucas’s gaze slid over me slowly. Measuring. Calculating.
“You look... safe,” he said.
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. So I didn’t respond.
Lucas turned back to Jace. “I’ve been meaning to reach out. You left some things behind.”
“Burn them,” Jace said.
Lucas tsked. “So dramatic. You always were.”
Jace took a slow breath. “What do you want?”
Lucas shrugged. “Just passing through. Saw a familiar face.”
He smiled again. “Figured I’d say hello. See if you’d come to your senses.”
I stepped forward, voice calm but firm. “He doesn’t owe you anything.”
Lucas didn’t even blink.
“Oh, I see. You’re the knight in button-down armor.”
He looked back to Jace. “You really don’t learn, do you?”
Jace’s eyes narrowed. “Walk away, Lucas.”
Lucas gave a mock bow. “As you wish.”
And just like that, he turned and walked off—casual, like the moment hadn’t just turned Jace’s skin to stone.
---
We stood in silence as Lucas disappeared around the corner.
Then Jace exhaled, long and slow, and leaned against the nearest wall like his legs had given out.
“I didn’t know he was back in the city,” he said.
“He seemed... calculated.”
“That’s the nicest possible word for him.”
I moved closer, but didn’t touch him yet. “You okay?”
“No,” Jace admitted. “But I’m used to not being okay.”
---
We didn’t talk much on the way to the new place.
It was a small apartment over a used bookstore—walls painted a faded green, floorboards creaking with every step, the whole space heavy with the scent of old paper and lavender from a diffuser someone had left behind.
He handed me the key at the door.
“This is mine now,” he said. “Found it last week. Wasn’t sure I’d let anyone else in.”
I turned the key in my hand. “You sure about me?”
“No,” he replied, then smiled softly. “But I’m tired of being alone.”
---
The space didn’t have much.
A mattress on the floor. A single lamp. A few canvases stacked against the wall, blank.
“I wanted this to be clean,” he said. “A place without ghosts.”
I nodded. “Then let’s not bring any in.”
He looked at me for a long time.
Then came to stand in front of me.
Slowly, carefully, he reached for my hand and placed it over his chest.
“Feel that?”
I nodded.
“That’s yours,” he said. “Unless you break it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then stay.”
---
I stayed.
We didn’t undress each other that night.
We lay on the mattress fully clothed, shoes off, limbs tangled.
And for the first time, it wasn’t about proving something or chasing heat.
It was about being allowed to rest.
---
In the morning, he was already up.
Coffee on the stove. The windows open. He was sketching.
I leaned against the doorframe and watched.
“You sketch me when I’m not looking?”
“Constantly.”
“Can I see?”
He turned the page around.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it looked like me.
Not how I appeared. But how I felt with him—open, undone, half-finished.
“I like it,” I said.
He gave a small smile. “I think I do too.”
---
Around noon, my phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
> “We should talk. It’s about Jace. You don’t know the full story.”
I stared at it for a long moment.
Then texted back.
> “Who is this?”
> “Lucas.”
> “I’m not interested.”
> “You should be. There are things he didn’t tell you.”
I locked the screen.
Didn’t tell Jace.
Not yet.
I didn’t want to break the peace we'd barely built.
---
That evening, while Jace painted in silence, I sat on the windowsill, watching the light shift on his skin.
He was beautiful when he worked.
Focused. Still. Vulnerable in a way he never let show in words.
I could’ve watched him forever.
And maybe I would.
If the ghosts didn’t come back.
But later that night, I found a manila envelope slipped under the front door.
No name. No return address.
Inside: a single photo.
Jace.
And Lucas.
Entwined.
The timestamp?
Two weeks ago.
And suddenly, I didn’t know what to believe.
- Writer
