15. Declan

FIFTEEN

DECLAN

With the door closed, the silence of my house swallows me whole. For a moment, I just stand there, staring at nothing, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. My lips still tingle from kissing Savion— Savion —and my hand, the one that had held his, feels strangely empty now, like it's missing something vital.

I sink against the door, dragging a hand through my hair. How the hell did we get here? My pulse is still pounding, not from nerves, but from something else—something deeper, more unsettling. That kiss, the way his fingers fit so perfectly with mine, cracked something open inside me.

And I'm not sure I'll be able to close it again.

But there's this gnawing fear too. What if this is too much too fast? What if I'm not ready for what this could mean? I've never felt this way about anyone, let alone another man. But when I'm with Savion, none of that seems to matter. It's like everything else fades away, and all I can see is him.

Running a hand through my hair, I sigh. I need to see him again. Soon. There's something between us, something I can't just walk away from. And maybe… maybe it's time I stopped trying to figure it out and just let it happen.

I expected a million things to come with being attracted to Savion, even possibly falling for him—confusion, fear, even guilt. What I didn't expect was the strange sense of comfort that settled in my chest when I told the band about him. No ridicule, no awkward silences. Just... support. The kind that came without conditions or judgments, the kind that only brothers can offer.

It's not like we haven't seen it all before. We're rockstars, for crying out loud. We've been surrounded by every kind of relationship you could imagine—polyamorous couples, open marriages, casual hookups, you name it. But this is different. This is me—us . And it isn't just some random fling. It isn't some backstage thing. This is Savion .

The guys didn't even blink when I told them how unexpected these feelings were, how new, but how real they feel. And their response? A few raised brows, maybe a nudge or two, but nothing more than warmth and acceptance. I don't know why that hit me the way it did. Maybe it's because I'd braced for something different—for them to question it, to question me . But they didn't.

It makes me appreciate them even more, like I have this crew of brothers who have my back no matter what, no matter who . I'm proud of them. And in a weird way, humbled. Not everyone has that. Not everyone gets to walk into the most confusing, terrifying moment of their life and find out that, actually, they aren't going to face it alone.

Still, as I replay tonight in my mind—the kiss, the look in Savion's eyes—I can't help but wonder: What now?

Is this— he —the start of something real? Or was it just the adrenaline of the moment that made everything feel bigger, more intense than it really is? I'm not naive. A relationship with Savion would come with its challenges, more than I could probably count. Our worlds are different, and then there's the fact that I am still figuring this out. Can I handle the pressure, the scrutiny, the questions I know would come?

But before I can spiral too far into overthinking, I stop myself.

Not tonight , I tell myself. Tonight isn't for overthinking or worrying about what might happen next. Tonight is about savoring the moment. About letting myself feel whatever the hell this is with Savion, and figuring it out one day at a time. There'll be enough time to worry about the future later.

Right now, all I want is to live in the here and now, with him. To enjoy this new dynamic between us without dragging it down with fears that might not even matter.

And as I stand there, staring out into the empty room, I know exactly what I want to do next. Something simple, but perfect. Something that will make him smile, that will show him how serious I am about this—about us .

The perfect way to celebrate, I think, a grin slowly spreading across my face.

After a long shower, I collapse onto my bed, still buzzing from the night. The kisses—from our first to the last one today—keep replaying in my mind. My lips tingle with the memory, and a grin spreads across my face. I grab my phone, the urge to connect with Savion too strong to resist. I type out a message.

Me: Can't stop thinking about tonight. Sleep well, Savion.

Almost immediately, my phone buzzes with a reply.

Savvy: Same here, Declan. Tonight was amazing. Sweet dreams, handsome. *face blowing a kiss emoji*

My heart does that stupid flip thing, and I let out a laugh, feeling like a damn teenager. I set my phone down, warmth from his message spreading through me. I drift off to sleep, already eager for tomorrow.

When morning comes, I wake up with traces of a dream about Savion just beyond my reach. I can't remember what it was about, but I bet it was something beautiful because, well, morning wood doesn't lie. His name is still on the edge of my mind, my body humming with the thought of him. I grab my phone, hoping for a message, and sure enough, there's one waiting.

Savvy: Morning, rockstar. Hope you slept well.

My smile stretches wide as I type back, the memory of last night's kisses fresh again.

Me: I did. Mostly because I was dreaming about you.

His response is instant. A string of smiling face with heart-eyes emojis fills my screen, and my heart does that flip thing again. Damn, this guy's got me hooked.

Savvy: That good, huh?

I chuckle, typing back.

Me: Better than good.

I hold my breath as I wait for Savion's reply, but I don't have to wait long.

Savvy: I dreamed about you too. *heart emoji*

Getting emotional at a response that was simple, genuine, I release the breath I didn't even realize I was holding.

Me: Hold that thought until I see you again, OK?

Savvy: You know it.

We fall into an easy rhythm, the conversation picking up pace. I shoot off a message.

Me: So, which do you think is cooler—being a paleontologist or a rockstar? *winking face emoji*

He responds quickly.

Savvy: Depends. Does the rockstar get to dig up fossils on tour?

I chuckle, typing back.

Me: Only if the paleontologist teaches him how. *smirking face emoji*

Savvy: Deal! *T-Rex emoji*

Savvy: But you might have to trade your guitar for a pickaxe.

I laugh at that one.

Me: As long as you show me how to use it without breaking anything important.

Savvy: I've got your back. And hey, who knows? You might find your own fossilized groupie.

Band practice starts at the usual time—Lars, Lennon, and Jasper already in their zone. My phone buzzes, and I can't help but check. It's Savion, of course, keeping up our text thread.

Savvy: Found something older than your debut album. *T-Rex emoji*

His reply comes with a picture of a partially assembled dinosaur skeleton, its massive bones laid out carefully in the museum's exhibit space . There's a winking emoji tagged on at the end, and I can't help but laugh.

Me: Touché, Dr. Dino.

I fire back a photo of my guitar mid-play, captioned: Your dinosaur friend is def older, but does it rock as hard?

His reply— Fossilized rockstars don't count —has me snorting.

Before I can come up with something to send back, Lars shoots me a knowing look. "Man, you've been glued to your phone since you walked in the door. What's Savion got you talking about this time?"

I shrug, trying to hide my grin. "Oh, just comparing notes. You know, the usual—who's cooler, a paleontologist or a rockstar?"

Lennon, still tuning his guitar, chimes in without missing a beat. "Please, you don't need a poll to know rockstars win that one."

Jasper snickers from behind the drums. "Yeah, but can a rockstar dig up million-year-old bones? Didn't think so."

Lars joins in, crossing his arms. "Sounds like you're leaning towards team paleontologist, Dec."

I shake my head, laughing. "Let's just say, I'm keeping my options open."

Throughout the day, the texts keep coming. I snap a quick selfie with the band—instruments in hand, sweat-drenched, and grinning like idiots. I send it off with a caption: Working hard or hardly working?

Savion sends a photo of a new fossil he's cataloging, its intricate details catching the light in a way that shows just how much he cares about his work. The caption reads: At least one of us is getting our hands dirty. There's a winking emoji tagged on at the end, and I can't help but laugh.

By the time practice wraps up, I'm practically buzzing with anticipation. I've been looking forward to this all day.

On my way out of the studio, I pull out my phone and call him. My pulse picks up as the line rings, and when he answers, the sound of his voice is enough to make my heart skip.

"Declan?"

"Yes, it's me. Want to have dinner with me? I'll cook."

"Can't wait."

"You have anything in mind?"

"How about a seven-course meal with lobster bisque, foie gras, and a side of truffle-infused risotto?"—and I can hear the grin in his voice.

"Tempting, but I was thinking something more down-to-earth," I say, leaning into the banter.

"Alright, alright," he concedes. "How about spaghetti with meatballs? My mom used to make it when I was a kid. Comfort food."

The mention of his mom brings a soft smile to my lips, because my mom used to love making the same thing for me too. "Spaghetti and meatballs, huh? Well that's one more thing I've learned about you."

"Taking notes?" he says, and I can almost picture him grinning on the other end.

"You know it," I say, ending the call with a hint of mischief. I head straight to the grocery store, grabbing everything I need for the meal. My mind is already on the evening ahead—on Savion's smile, the way his eyes light up when he's surprised, and the chance to cook for him, to share something real and intimate without rushing.

The anticipation is almost too much, but it's a feeling I want to hold onto, savoring every moment until I'm standing at his door, groceries in hand, ready to see where the night takes us.

My heart picks up speed as I knock. The thin plastic bags filled with groceries dangle from my fingers. The door swings open, and there he is—Savion, in a fitted navy t-shirt that hugs his lean frame just right. His hair's a bit tousled, like he's been running his hands through it, and the scent of cedarwood and something unmistakably him drifts toward me. There's a hint of surprise in his eyes as he takes in the sight of me, bags in hand, but it quickly melts into a smile.

"Declan." He breathes my name, almost like he's been caught off guard in the best way. He finger brushes his golden strands over the left side of his face.

"Hey." I can't resist anymore. I lean down, closing the distance between us, and press my lips to his. The kiss starts sweet, just a gentle brush, but there's an underlying heat that sparks to life as his lips part slightly, welcoming me in. God, he tastes so good, so fresh, so clean, with something deeper underneath that makes me want to keep tasting him. His fingers curl into my shirt, holding me close, and for a second, everything else fades away—just the two of us in this quiet, intimate space.

Eventually we pull back, both of us breathing a little harder, eyes locked.

"What did you bring?" Savion asks, gesturing to the bags with a playful arch of his brow.

"Dinner," I say, stepping inside and nudging the door shut with my foot. "Figured I'd give you a break."

"Oh, so now you're my personal chef?" He smirks, taking one of the bags from me. His fingers brush against mine, sending a spark straight up my arm.

"Only if you ask nicely," I shoot back, heading toward the kitchen.

We start unpacking the groceries, and the teasing begins almost immediately. Savion picks up the fresh basil, sniffing it with an exaggerated flourish. "Is this for decoration, or do you actually know how to use it?"

"You'll see," I challenge, pulling out the flour and setting it on the counter. "Just don't get in my way."

He chuckles, sidling up next to me, his arm brushing against mine. "I wouldn't dream of it, Chef Declan."

There's this light, flirty energy between us as we fall into the rhythm of cooking together. I start on the sauce, while Savion chops garlic and mushrooms, sneaking glances at me every chance he gets. The kitchen fills with the rich scent of sautéing garlic and butter, and I can feel his eyes on me, even when I'm not looking.

Savion bumps into me as he reaches for the salt. Our arms linger against each other, and when he turns, I take the opportunity to lean in and steal a kiss. He laughs against my lips, a soft sound that sends a warm thrill through me.

"Focus," he murmurs, but there's no real heat behind it, just a smile that says he's enjoying this as much as I am.

"Can't help it," I admit, nudging him with my shoulder. "You're kind of distracting and amazing."

He grins, but there's a softness in his eyes that wasn't there before. "You're not so bad yourself."

We move around the kitchen in sync, the rhythm of our playful banter like a melody I can't get out of my head. I'm stirring the sauce, lost in the rhythm of cooking, when Savion suddenly steps closer. His eyes are locked on my face, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"You've got a little something…" he says, voice low, and before I can ask, he reaches out, his thumb grazing my cheek.

I freeze. His touch is warm, tender, and the simple act of wiping the flour from my skin sends a jolt straight through my groin. His thumb doesn't leave my cheek immediately, though—it glides softly along the line of my jaw.

My breath catches, his does too. The air between us feels heavier, thick with something unspoken. I don't even think—instinct takes over. I lean in, closing the gap between us, and my lips find his. This kiss... it's… it's deep, slow. The kind of kiss that sinks its teeth into your soul and won't let go. His hand slides up, fingers curling around the back of my neck, threading into my hair as he pulls me closer, anchoring me to him, and my heart pounds in time with the intensity of the kiss. There's a deliberate intensity in the way his lips move against mine, like he's savoring every second, and it hits me right in the chest. My knees go weak, and for a second, I'm pretty sure the only thing holding me up is him.

We pull apart to catch our breaths. His breath mingles with mine, and for a moment, we're just... there, lost in the space between us. His eyes hold mine, and I wonder if he's feeling it too—the way the ground seems to have shifted beneath us.

Then, the unmistakable sound of sizzling fills the kitchen. The sauce in the pot begins to hiss, demanding attention like a restless child. We both break apart, breathless, our foreheads resting together as we share a small, almost giddy laugh.

"Guess the food doesn't want to wait," I murmur, my voice still a little rough from the kiss.

Savion chuckles, his hand lingering a second longer before he steps back, his eyes dancing with warmth. "Wouldn't want to burn it after all this effort."

We go back to cooking, but the air is different now. Charged. Every time our fingers brush as we pass ingredients, there's this spark, like we're still kissing, even when we're not. We don't say much—just exchange small smiles and quiet glances that say more than words ever could.

We sit down to eat, and I can't help but watch him, anticipation swirling in my chest as Savion twirls the spaghetti onto his fork. My mind races, waiting for his verdict—on the way the meatballs turned out, whether the sauce has enough flavor.

He takes his first bite, his eyes falling shut as he savors the food. The low, quiet sound of approval that slips from his lips sends warmth rushing through me, though it has nothing to do with the meal itself.

"This is amazing," he says, finally opening his eyes and meeting mine. There's something soft, vulnerable in the way he looks at me. "You weren't kidding about knowing your way around the kitchen."

The compliment hits deeper than I expect, and I smile, feeling the warmth between us grow into something more solid, more real.

"I have my moments." I shrug, but there's a warmth spreading through my chest at his praise, a satisfaction that goes beyond just the food. It's the way we've fallen into this easy rhythm, like we've been doing this for years.

We continue eating in a comfortable silence, our fingers occasionally brushing as we pass the bread or exchange a smile, leaving the air charged with something unspoken but undeniably there. I can't help but think that I could get used to this—being with him, sharing these moments, building something real.

After dinner, we tackle the dishes together, a simple rhythm of scrubbing and rinsing, but even that feels more like a game than a chore. Savion bumps his hip against mine as he hands me a plate, and I grin, flicking a bit of soapy water at him in retaliation. He gasps in mock outrage, swatting at me with a dishtowel, and before I know it, we're both laughing, the sound echoing in the cozy kitchen.

When the last dish is finally put away, we drift into the living room. Savion grabs the remote, plopping down on the couch, his expression already daring me to challenge him. "So, what do we watch?" He gives the remote a little twirl between his fingers, smirking.

"Something good. You ever watch Knight Rider ?" I ask, dropping onto the couch beside him, my knee brushing against his.

He wrinkles his nose, barely holding back a laugh. "You mean that ancient show with the talking car?"

"It's a classic, man. Michael Knight was a legend." I cross my arms, feigning offense.

"Yeah, maybe back when dinosaurs roamed the earth," he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He leans back. There's something in his gaze, a warmth that makes the teasing feel less like a pretend insult and more like an invitation.

I roll my eyes, but I can't help grinning. "Alright, wiseass. What did you watch growing up? Power Rangers ?"

He laughs, a genuine, full-bodied sound that makes my chest tighten. "Guilty. That and Animaniacs . And Fresh Prince , of course."

"Of course," I echo, nodding in approval. "You had some taste, at least."

The conversation shifts naturally from there, the TV momentarily forgotten. We start trading stories about our childhoods—his filled with happy memories of family trips, birthday parties, and Saturday morning cartoons; mine a mix of rebellion and survival in the foster care system. I don't go into too much detail, just enough to let him in a little more.

"I guess I was kind of a handful," I admit, scratching the back of my neck. "Ran away a couple of times, but I always ended up back in the system. It wasn't all bad, though. Met some good people along the way."

Savion's quiet for a moment, his gaze softening as he looks at me. There's no pity in his eyes, just understanding. "You turned out pretty good, considering," he says, nudging my foot with his.

"Yeah, well, I had to figure it out on my own. But I guess it made me who I am, right?" I shrug, trying to keep it light, but there's a weight to the words.

"Right," he agrees, his voice low.

We eventually settle on watching something—a random episode of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air , but neither of us is really paying attention. I end up on the floor, leaning back against the couch, and Savion drapes his legs over my shoulders. The casual intimacy of it sends a thrill through me, the warmth of his skin against my neck making it hard to focus on anything else.

I rest my hands on his calves, absentmindedly tracing patterns on his skin. He shifts slightly, and I glance up to find him watching me, a soft smile playing on his lips. The show becomes background noise, a comforting hum as we sit there, just being together.

"You know," he starts, his voice low and almost hesitant, "I've never done this before."

"Done what?" I tilt my head back to look up at him, curious.

"This." He gestures vaguely with one hand, as if that explains everything. "Just... being with someone like this. Even with Haley, it was never this comfortable just being around each other. It's nice."

"Yeah," I murmur, my heart doing a little flip in my chest. "It is."

There's a silence that follows, but it's not awkward. It's full, charged with the unspoken things that are starting to build between us. I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, the weight of his legs grounding me, the steady rise and fall of his breath a quiet reminder that he's here, that we're here, together.

I don't know where this is going, but for now, this is enough. More than enough.

Then a sudden spark ignites in my mind. The emotions from the day—everything from our playful banter to the intimate moments we've shared—crash together, forming a melody I can't ignore. My fingers twitch with the urge to capture it before it slips away. I dig my phone out of my pocket, my heart racing with the thrill of creation.

I start typing furiously, my thumb flying over the screen. The lyrics flow out, raw and unfiltered. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, and the words come faster than I can keep up.

Sometimes love's like a midnight ride

A wild wind that takes you high...

Savion shifts slightly, as if sensing the change in my energy. He watches me with a curious gaze, his fingers still lightly grazing my hair, sending shivers down my spine. "You get your best ideas like this?" he asks softly, his voice a soothing balm against my excitement.

I nod, my concentration barely broken. "Yeah, inspiration's unpredictable. It hits when you least expect it. The best stuff comes from deep inside, where everything's raw and unfiltered."

He leans in closer, intrigued. "Can I see what you've got so far?"

I turn my phone towards him, showing him the screen. "Sure. Just some lines."

He reads the lines, his fingers absentmindedly brushing my hair.

In the silence of the night

Where shadows play and dreams take flight…

"That's really beautiful."

I can't help but smile, his praise warming me from the inside out. "Thanks. It's just the beginning. I'm still figuring out the rest."

Savion's gaze lingers on me, and I can feel the intensity in his eyes. He shifts even closer, his body brushing sensually against mine. The atmosphere between us changes, charged with something more than just words and music.

As I set my phone down on the floor beside me, Savion leans forward, his lips brushing mine in a slow, upside-down kiss. The position makes it feel oddly exhilarating, and my entire body responds, excitement and desire bubbling up. Our mouths move together, exploring and savoring the sweet taste of each other.

He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his breath warm against my face. "This," he murmurs, "feels incredible."

"Yeah," I breathe out, my voice barely more than a whisper. "It does."

He lowers his head, his lips on mine again. The kiss deepens, our passion igniting as we lose ourselves in the moment. His hands find their way to my face, cupping it gently, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. Every touch, every caress feels electric, heightening the connection between us.

I can't resist the urge to kiss him back with the same fervor. My hands slip around his waist, pulling him closer. We're tangled together, our bodies pressed firmly against each other, the world outside fading into the background. "I want you so much," I confess between kisses, my voice rough with need.

Savion's response is a soft, throaty groan. "And I want you, Declan. More than anything."

The words are honest, but I hear the hesitation beneath them. He wants this, but there's something holding him back.

Why is he holding back? He said he wants this, wants me, but there's a caution in his touch, a quiet restraint. It dawns on me then: he's self-conscious, guarded, even though he's more open now than when we first met. I don't know the full extent of his physical scars, but I suspect they go beyond his face.

His lips graze against mine and I vow silently to be patient with him. This is more than lust—it's something deeper, something worth waiting for. I want to show him that he can trust me, that it doesn't matter how long it takes for him to let his guard down. I'll be here, with him, for as long as it takes.

I tighten my hold around his waist, pulling him closer. "I know," I whisper, my voice rough with emotion. "And I'm not going anywhere. We'll take this at your pace, Savion. Whatever you need."