Four-Year Longing

Fred Harrington was the quiet light I had spent four years secretly loving.

If we had not ended up tangled together in that bed, perhaps we would have remained best friends for a lifetime.

Five years after we parted, we met again at my younger brother Jude's wedding.

While everyone else was offering their blessings to the newlyweds, Fred leaned in close, his breath brushing against my ear.

His voice was low, heavy with mockery. "I heard you spent three years pining after me, Silas. Doesn't that make you sick?"

"Hey, what took you so long?"

Jude stood in his sharp, white tuxedo, the bright, familiar smile still lighting up his face. The kid I used to look after was finally getting married. Time really did fly.

"Flight was delayed," I said, offering a quiet apology. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"You're not late. The ceremony hasn't even started yet."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little girl walking over, having finally finished staring at the goldfish in the lobby fountain. I waved her over and introduced her to Jude with a smile. "This is my daughter, Elia."

"I know, I know! We're already best friends," Jude said, dropping to one knee to perform their secret handshake.

Watching them mimic each other's goofy gestures, I couldn't help but laugh. They had video called a few times before we flew in. Elia was a social butterfly who could strike up a conversation with absolutely anyone.

"I'll take her to see Dad," Jude said, taking her hand.

I nodded and watched them walk hand-in-hand toward the reception room.

Finding a quiet corner, I sat down and opened my laptop to reply to some work emails. After moving to London, I had taken up photography, finding a job there right after graduation. My inbox was flooded with inquiries and booking requests. Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I drafted polite rejections one by one. Elia had never been to the States before, and I wanted to spend some quality time with her during this trip. The freelance gigs would have to wait until we returned to the UK.

As my fingers flew across the keyboard, a familiar, rich scent of cedarwood and amber suddenly drifted into my space.

My hands froze over the keys.

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up as if a warm breath had just brushed past them.

In my peripheral vision, a hand appeared. It moved closer, slowly, until a set of pale, perfect knuckles rested firmly on the table.

The woody fragrance deepened, wrapping around me.

Two soft taps echoed against the wood. It felt as if those taps landed directly on my ribcage, sending a sharp tremor straight to my heart.

"Long time no see, Silas."

Hearing that familiar voice after five long years made my chest tighten instantly.

Fred Harrington.

The boy who used to be my best friend. And the one I had loved in silence for as long as I could remember.

The chair beside me was pulled back, and a pair of long legs entered my field of vision. He crossed them with a quiet, effortless elegance. The high-end fabric of his tailored suit didn't even crease. A flash of the signature red soles of his designer shoes caught the light, disappearing into the shadow of the desk like a passing spark.

My throat went dry.

Forcing my eyes back to the glowing laptop screen, I tried to resume typing. But within seconds, his voice stopped me again.

"Five years in London, Silas, and you've already forgotten how to speak to me?"

The tone was lazy, almost casual, yet it carried that familiar, demanding edge.

"No," I murmured, my voice barely audible.

I let my shoulders slump slightly, feeling a quiet wave of defeat. I hadn't expected to run into him here. Fred was never the type to attend family gatherings like this.

"Then answer me."

"Long time no see," I whispered.

But it wasn't true. For me, there had been no long separation. I had fallen asleep almost every night looking at his pictures, and his face was still the lock screen on every device I owned.

Fred let out a short, quiet scoff, though his voice softened when he spoke next. "Finally decided to come back?"

The lack of anger in his voice caught me off guard. I stared at the screen, stunned. It was as if the painful event that tore us apart had left no mark on him at all. Then again, why would it? I was the only one who had been drowning in the aftermath.

Taking a slow, quiet breath to suppress the ache in my chest, I tried to stay calm.

After all, I was the one who had cut off all contact. I was the one who had slept with the sole heir of the Harrington family, got caught by his powerful grandfather, and ended up banished across the Atlantic. Honestly, being sent away was the gentlest punishment they could have given me.

I cursed myself silently. How could I have been so reckless back then? Fred was different from me. He was normal, destined for a bright, conventional future. He shouldn't have been dragged into the dark, complicated mess of my life.

I pressed my fingernails into my palms, letting the sharp pain anchor me.

"Just here for Jude's wedding," I replied, keeping my voice as flat and emotionless as possible. "We'll be heading back right after."

It was a lie, but it didn't matter. As long as I didn't actively seek him out, the chances of us crossing paths in a city this size were practically zero. He would never know when I left, and he likely wouldn't care. Five years was a long time. It was more than enough to rewrite the history between two people.

"You're cold, Silas," Fred said, a trace of bitter humor in his voice. "First you vanish without a single word, and now you can't wait to draw a line between us. Tell me, do you really despise me that much?"

It sounded like a joke, but I knew him too well. Having spent three years as his shadow, I could read the subtle shifts in his voice like a familiar book.

My wrists felt stiff, hovering over the keyboard. When I finally let my arms drop to the table, they made a dull thud.

I couldn't bring myself to say the words. When it came to Fred, I had never possessed an ounce of strength.

"I don't despise you," I said softly, the weight of the confession heavy in my throat.

The only person I despised was myself.

"Then why did you..."

Fred's voice grew thick with sudden emotion, and his hand shot out, gripping my forearm tightly. The heat of his palm burned right through the thin sleeve of my shirt, making me shiver.

"Daddy!"

I turned quickly.

Jude was walking back toward us, holding Elia's hand. The little girl broke free and ran, throwing herself into my arms. I spun around to catch her, shielding her as the heavy warmth on my arm vanished.

Pulling a small comb from my bag, I knelt down to smooth the wild curls around her face.

"Daddy, Grandpa gave me so many chocolates! I don't want to eat them now. Can we put them in your bag?"

"No sweets before dinner, okay?" I reminded her, opening my satchel so she could drop the colorful foil-wrapped candies inside.

Like a little hurricane, Elia was gone as fast as she had arrived, dragging Jude toward the dessert table.

"Is she... your daughter?"

Fred's voice drifted down from behind me, much lower and rougher than before.

My hands froze as I sat back down. A sudden, cold panic gripped my chest. I silently prayed he hadn't looked closely enough to see the familiar shape of her eyes, the familiar curve of her jaw.

Feeling his heavy, searching gaze on me, I forced myself to nod.

"You're married?" he asked, his voice strained.

I nodded again, my fingers returning to the keyboard, though I couldn't see the screen through the haze of my anxiety. Elia had to remain my daughter alone. She had nothing to do with the Harrington family.

"Does your wife know you're gay?"

The raw malice and mockery in his voice made me flinch. It was a tone I had never heard from him before.

My fingers began to tremble.

"I heard you spent three years pining after me, Silas," Fred sneered, leaning closer. "Doesn't that make you sick?"

It felt as if a physical blow had landed on my chest, leaving a hollow, aching void. I hid my shaking hands beneath the long tablecloth, forcing myself to look up and meet his gaze. I managed to pull my lips into a fragile, hollow smile.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I don't feel that way anymore. And I won't bother you again."

He looked thinner than he used to, his cheekbones sharper, his dark eyes like endless wells of shadow. But right now, his face held nothing but deep, burning resentment. It was a look that shattered the last of my resolve.

I could barely draw breath under the weight of it.

This was truly the end. We would never see each other again.

A sudden rush of air brushed past me as he turned and walked away.

The wedding ceremony began, but as I glanced around the beautifully decorated hall, Fred was nowhere to be seen.

He had left.

I leaned back against my chair, staring down at the deep, red crescent marks my nails had carved into my palm. I had driven him away. No one wanted to share a room, let alone a meal, with the guy who had harbored a pathetic, secret obsession with them for years. It was bound to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

The reception was flawless, like something out of a classic movie.

"Silas, you should stay at the house while you're in town," Jude said afterward, his eyes slightly red from the emotional day. "I had your old room cleaned up and everything."

"It's alright," I said, offering a small smile as I squeezed Elia's hand. "We'd only be in the way. The hotel is closer to the venues anyway. It's easier."

"Are you still angry with Dad?" Jude asked softly.

"The past is the past, Jude," I murmured, reaching up to ruffle his hair gently. "Look at me. I'm doing just fine."

We were a blended family. My mother had passed away from complications during my birth, and due to my frail health, I spent my childhood living with my grandparents in a quiet coastal town. I was only brought back to the Kingsley estate when I started high school.

Someone called Jude's name from the crowd. I patted his shoulder, urging him to go tend to his guests.

Using a ride-sharing app, I booked a car and took Elia to the lobby to wait.

"Daddy, a nice mister gave me two candies earlier. One for you, one for me!"

"A mister?" I asked, adjusting the hem of her lace dress. "Who was he?" It was probably one of Jude's friends. "Remember, too much sugar will ruin your teeth. A princess can't have a ruined smile."

"But these are really good! Better than the chocolates Grandpa gave me."

She opened her small hand, revealing a round candy wrapped in pale blue foil.

A sea salt mint.

My heart skipped a beat. The first time I had ever tasted that exact flavor, Fred had shoved it into my mouth after a grueling basketball practice.

"Do you like them?" I whispered.

"I love them!" she beamed.

Children usually disliked the sharp, bracing taste of mint, but Elia's tastes had always been uniquely her own.

I took the candy from her hand, slowly peeling back the foil, and let the cool, sharp sweetness melt on my tongue.

The sharp ring of my phone woke me the next morning.

I quickly hit the mute button, checking on Elia, who was still fast asleep under the heavy hotel comforter. Slipping out of bed, I walked barefoot out onto the balcony, closing the glass door behind me before answering.

It was Lance, my mentor and closest friend in London.

I pulled the phone away from my ear for a moment, waiting for his usual burst of high-energy chatter to quiet down before speaking.

"Silas! Tell me you didn't just ignore my brilliant greeting," Lance's accented English filled the line.

A genuine smile touched my lips. "Of course not."

"How long are you staying in the States?" Lance asked. "I need a massive favor. The local agency I'm partnering with for a campaign needs a temporary photographer. One of their lead shooters went down with the flu."

"I'll be here for about two months," I replied. "If the schedule isn't too crazy, I can help out."

I owed Lance a lot. He had taken me under his wing when I arrived in London with nothing but a camera and a broken heart.

"You're a lifesaver! Are you free tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sure. Send me the details."

After hanging up, I went back inside. Elia was awake, sitting cross-legged on the bed and quietly flipping through her picture book. She never woke up grumpy, which was a blessing since I was useless before my morning coffee.