What began as a summer between two boys on the.
Water has carried. Across a decade of silence,
whispers. And the.
Ache of what was never said. They have come back.
Together, not. Only in memory, but in the open,
where family and friends have begun to see what had always
been true from the clips of their.
Youths. To the Sunday tables of Eden,
they stood side by side. At last.
But now the tide has shifted again and offer waits in Sydney,
a future not yet built, a question still hanging in the.
Salt. Heavy air.
Will Kai. Choose to stay where he has
always. Belonged or stepped into a life
beyond Eden with Noah, the question didn't vanish when the
harbor. Quieted.
It stayed. Caught in the Gauls cries
pressed against Kai's chest. With every breath.
If I ask, would you go with me? It was the kind of question that
couldn't be shrugged off, A question that demanded an
answer, even if Kai wasn't ready to give one.
And before the night ended, he did.
This is salt in our veins. Chapter 6.
The tide we choose the final. Chapter where the.
Ache of waiting meets the promise of tomorrow.
Noah's words hung there. If I asked, would you go with
me? Kaistjal tightened.
He looked at the harbor instead of Noah.
I can't, he said finally, the words rougher than he meant.
My whole life's here. But what didn't flinch, didn't
push. He only gave the smallest nod,
as though he already expected the answer.
I shifted, searching for something else to say, but the
words wouldn't come, and Noah, after a long moment, turned
away. I'll see you tomorrow, he
murmured. I watched him go until the sound
of his footstep faded into the night.
The next. Morning.
The harbor was already alive. A blast of horns cut across the
Wharf. I looked up just as a cruise
ship pulled into harbor, a white giant looming over the smaller
boats. Tourists lined the rails.
Cameras. Raised, he watched.
Them spill onto the docks, strangers in white hats, hits
pointing at the CSOD. Never seen it before.
Their laughter echoed off the water, foreign and loud, so
different from the quiet rhythm he always know.
High script, Titan of the ropes. His life was here, but
sometimes, sometimes he wondered what it would feel like to step
onto a ship and not look back, to chase Horizon instead of
hauling mats. To belong to the world instead.
Of one town. The thought lodged in his chest,
a guilty flicker he tried to smoother.
With work by. Doom.
The sun was high, sweat streaking Kai's back.
He was tying off a line when a familiar voice called behind
him, Brought new lunch. Noah stood there with two
sandwiches wrapped in butcher paper, his shirt sleeves rolled,
hair catching the light. He didn't push.
Didn't mention last night. Thanks.
Their eyes met. For a moment.
Steady, lingering before Kyle looked back down at the bread in
his hands. They eat quietly.
Every so often I felt Noah's gaze on him, patient in
searching, and each time he forced himself to focus on the
ropes coiled at his. Feet when the.
Food was gone. Noah brushed his palm clean,
still watching him. You'll wear yourself out.
Noah said lightly. Work doesn't wait.
I need to finish this. Noah didn't argue.
He just nodded his case, holding Kai a moment longer.
Kai hesitated then edit almost offhand here tonight.
That broke the heaviness between them.
Noah's mouth curved, quick but real.
Yeah, tonight I watched him walk down the pier, then look past
him to the cruise ship easing back from the dock.
It's that crowded. Was waving passengers.
The ship moved slowly out to. The sea growing.
Smaller against the horizon. I turned back to the net in his
hands, but his fingers hesitated, the rhythm gone.
The rope felt heavier than it should have.
The bowl line was dim, warm with the smell of beer and sea air,
the sound of the jukebox threading through.
The low voices of the few. Fishermen who lingered past
supper. I slid 2 pins onto the table.
And sat across. From Noah the Foam.
Trace low rivers. Down the glass, neither of them
said the word Sydney. They filled the first stretch
with safer talk. Noah asked a question here and
there, nodding, smiling at the edges.
Though his eyes held something. Heavier than his.
Voice at some. Point, Noah leaned.
Forward. His elbow.
Against the table. His eyes caught Kai's.
A spark of mischief breaking the careful distance.
You smell good. Kai blinked, almost choking on
his. Beer.
I smell like rope Sweat. In a day under the sun, that's
not good. That's what makes it good.
Noah said. Grim tugging wider.
His voice dipped. Lower, almost playful, almost
serious, I looked. Away too quickly.
Heat climbing his neck, he muttered something about the
jukebox being off key, but Noah didn't push it further.
The conversation circled on. They talked more with pauses
than with words, silences that stretched long enough to feel
like confessions. More than once, Kai felt Noah's
eyes on him, lingering each time he took a longer drink than
necessary, the bitterness of the beer doing nothing to steady.
Him. The bartender flashed the lights
once, the bow lines gentle way of saying last orders, then
home. Noah tipped his chin toward the
door. Kai nodded.
They drained what was left and. Stood for a. 2nd.
As they reached. The doorway.
Their shoulders touched. Neither moved outside.
The night took a deep breaths around them.
The. Street was mostly.
Dark. Just a.
String of low lamps. Kai glanced at Noah, at his open
shirt collar, at the way the lamp light caught on the edge of
his jaw. He heard himself say.
Race you. Noah blinked, surprised, into a
laugh. You'll lose big talk for a city.
Boy, Kai said. And then he.
Took off their feet. Slapped the quiet.
Road both. Of them stumbling on their first
Sprint, then finding a rhythm that had more to do with being
17 than anything they'd trained since.
Noah tried to cut a corner. Kai's shoulder checked him with
a grin and kept going. Cheater.
Noah panted. They barreled down the end of
the block where the road met the low wall by the.
Wharf. Kai slapped.
The stone 1st and doubled over, hands on knees.
Noah stopped a step later and leaned on the wall, laughing.
Head tipped back to the stars. Kai wiped A forearm over his
face, heat in his cheeks That wasn't only from running.
They stood. There catching breath, trading
small insults that. Landed like touches.
Their laughter thinned. The quiet came back, Not heavy
at first, just present. They walked a long way.
Their shoulders brushed. Once, then again, until it
became a pattern. Kite didn't step away.
Neither did Noah. Noah's voice came.
As if it. Had been building since the 1st.
Spear. Do you really want another 10
years? Of this he.
Didn't look over when he said. It he kept.
Walking hands in. Pockets Kai's.
John worked. You only.
Think about yourself. This is my life.
You get to leave and come back when you want.
I'm the one. Who stays I've?
Got nothing out there. The sentence left him was more
in it than he intended. The Fear the.
Pride, the smallness, and the safety all nodded together.
It felt like handing over something he wasn't sure.
He could take back. Noah didn't rush his answer.
He stepped closer by half a. Pace.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet.
You'd have me. The night went very still.
The reasons he lined up like fence post fell over in a row.
He forced out. It's not that simple.
But even to his own ears, it sounded smaller than these
things Noah had placed between them.
They started walking again. The road widened.
The porch light. At Kai's.
Place drew a weak. Circle on the ground.
Like it always did, they stopped.
At the gate, for a second, neither moved.
Noah's eye held his, steady and searching, not demanding.
Kai felt the run still in his legs and the beer still in his
blood and the ache of 10 years like a muscle he never let heal.
Noah stepped in. No warning, No.
Ask just. A kind of, sure.
Pool that said. He knew it.
Could be refused. And did it anyway.
His arms came around Kai, firm. Careful.
Kai froze for a heartbeat. Then he let himself lean just a
little, and his hands found Noah's back.
They. Stood like that longer than
either of them would admit later.
Noah's cheek brushed Kai's temple.
I care about you, about us just. Think about it, we can build
something if you let me. Kai held on.
He wanted to say a dozen things and none of them were sentences.
Noah. Eased back first.
He didn't drop his hands right away.
He searched Kai's face. Then he nodded, small as if to
himself, and stepped away. I'll see you tomorrow, he said.
Kai watched him go until the dark took him.
He stood a long time at the gate with his palm still warm from
where it had pressed into Noah's.
Back the tide. Sounded louder than it had an
hour ago. The house behind him was the
same house. The road in front of him was the
same Rd. Kai barely slept.
Every time his body gave into the drowsiness, Noah's words
stirred him back. Awake you'd.
Have me the line repeated. When Dawn edged over Eden, he
gave. Up, he pushed.
Himself upright, sat on the edge.
Of the bed. With his face in his hands and
exhaled into the stillness of his room, the routine carried
him like it. Always did.
Bread was a thin scrape of jam, coffee strong enough to keep his
hand steady. His mother's shoes were already
gone from the mat. She left early, as she often
did. Kai pulled on his work shirt and
step out into the chill that clung before the sun took.
Hold, he walked. Toward the docks he slipped into
the familiar rhythm, checking ropes, testing knots, mind half
on the work and half far away. Is this it?
He wondered, watching the water slap the pilings is.
This how it always be. Nets, sales lessons, bread,
coffee, harbor. The same sunrise, the same
silence. For years, that.
Question hadn't mattered this morning.
It pressed harder than the tide. Noah woke on the sound of
knuckles on his door. His mother.
'S voice followed you, still asleep.
It's nearly noon. He groaned into the pillow, his
body aching in ways it had him for years.
Not the beer that had burned off long ago.
It was the run, the Sprint through Eden streets, the
laughter that had carried him harder than his.
Legs were ready for, he felt. It in every stride of muscle.
Like he borrowed. His 17 year old self and had to
pay it back by the time he dragged himself down the stairs.
His mother. Was already dressed to go out.
Earrings catching the light. As she adjusted her scarf, she.
Smiled at him, shaking her head. Lunch is on the table.
I made enough for you and your father.
Don't let it. Sit.
She kissed his hair. Slipped on her shoes and was
gone, leaving the door to click shop behind her.
The kitchen smelled of bread, still warm from the oven, pan
fried. Fish the sharp.
Cut of pickled onions. His father was already.
Seated shoulder squared. His own plate half full, Noah
chewed slowly, not sure whether his father would say anything.
He had grown up with silence from him, the kind that said
more than words. But left.
Everything unsaid. Halfway through the meal, his
father set down his fork. His eyes were steady when they
met Noah's. If something matters.
He said voice. Low.
You don't wait on it. You already lost enough years,
Noah. Froze a.
Slice of bread halfway to his mouth.
Roots keep you. Steady, his father went on.
Don't let fear trick you into wasting what you believe in.
Not again. The words landed heavier than no
one expected. Not just advice, but something
closer to an unburdening. His father had never spoken this
way to him before, Not about life, not about love.
Then his father leaned back, folding his arms.
Since you're leaving in three. Days we've spoken.
With Kai's family, they'll have us for dinner tomorrow,
Saturday. He pause, letting it sink in.
And before you go, we'll have our Sunday brunch.
Here, just the three of us. Noah stared at him, stunned.
He swallowed hard, setting his fork down.
His father had already returned to his meal, as if nothing
monumental had been said. But Noah.
Sat straighter it. Was no longer just a question of
what he wanted. The time for waiting had ended.
Noah stood under the shower longer than he meant.
To water. Sliding hot.
Over his shoulders. Pooling at.
His feet it. Wasn't the running ache in his
legs anymore or the soreness in his chest from laughing too
hard. 2 nights. Ago what?
Pressed at him now was. Heavier.
Sharper. The knowledge that by the end of
tonight things could be different.
How do you ask someone to change everything when you can barely
name the fear? Yourself, he dressed.
With a care. Shirt pressed collar.
Neat. He combed his hair twice in the
mirror. His.
Reflection stared back, unsettled.
Restless, but resolved. He straightened, exhaled.
Tonight, there could be no. Retreat Kai's.
Family home glowed warm against the dusk, the smell of roasted.
Fish Garlic. And Herb.
Spilled through the. Open window.
The table was already crowded. Kai's father sat at.
The end Steady, quiet, surveying everything, was his expression
that could be mistaken for sternness.
The conversation was lively, ordinary.
Who had caught what that week? Whose?
Boat engine had failed. Which neighbor had painted their
shutters an awful color? Kai laughed easily.
Shoulder. Shaking at his brother's mimicry
of a fisherman's tall tale, Noah watched, and in that watching,
understood this house. This table this.
Atmosphere. It was why Kai found it so hard
to imagine leaving here. Belonging wasn't a word.
It was a rhythm, an inheritance, a net cast, wide and strong, and
in the same breath, Noah felt a tug of doubt in himself.
If Kai followed him to Sydney, could he give Kai something that
felt? Less rooted.
The fear burned sharper than the roasted spices, but beneath it
an ache rose higher he didn't want to take Kai away from.
This he. Wanted to build something
together that could stand beside it.
The realization lodged in his chest, alive, unshakable.
Outside, dusk had settled into true night.
Kai walked with Noah into the front yard.
Kai didn't speak, he only looked at him.
I know what this house means to you, what this family means.
And I know if you followed me, you wonder if I could.
Ever give? You the same.
He. Excelled.
Chest shaking. I don't know if I can not yet.
Kai's gaze flickered, but he. Didn't look away, Noah.
Stepped closer his. Voice firmer now, but I want to
try. I want to build something with
you, Not just pull you away into a life that feels smaller, but
make a new one with you. One that.
Holds us both. Noah's hand trembled as he
lowered himself to one knee, the gesture pulling memory with it.
Prom night, years ago. The first time he had ever let
himself. Ask back.
Then it had been a dare, a joke wrapped in nerves.
Tonight, it was everything. The porch light caught Kai's
face, stunned, trembling. Noah looked up at him.
Come with me. Let's build our.
Life in Sydney Eden will always be our.
Route. We'll marry.
Here we'll. Come back every winter.
But it's time to start now. Kai's breast.
Caught his lips. Parting as though words might
come, but nothing did. Kai, will you marry me?
Finally, Noah said it. Kai nodded.
The front door. Creaked.
Kai's mother appeared watching long enough to know exactly what
had been said. Look at these.
Two. She announced, her voice
carrying warmth into every corner of the house.
The family spilled out. Kai's laugh broke free.
Rough at the. Edges almost disbelieving, he
looked down at Noah, still kneeling.
Tears slipped free not from weakness, but from.
Release, yes, He whispered. Then, louder, steadier, yes, the
house erupted with warmth, was clapping on shoulders and smiles
wide enough to hold the moment. It wasn't hidden.
It wasn't whispered. It was.
Claimed by Noah, by Kai. Few weeks later in Sydney, the
apartment was learning Kai and Noah.
Slowly boxes still. Crowded the corners.
A shirt hung over the back of a chair, and the coffee machine
blinked like it knew they hadn't yet tamed it.
Evening pressed against the windows, city lights rising in a
scatter that never quite stopped moving.
The door. Clicked Noah stepped in.
Hair must from the day his eyes softened the moment they found
Kai. Noah leaned in, kissed him once,
quick and tired. But sure before.
Tugging off his jacket. I need to shower.
Don't start dinner without me. The bathroom door.
Shut, Kai poured. Himself a mug and stepped out to
the balcony. The city spread wide.
The sound was a hum instead of a tide, but the wind still.
Touched his face. The way Wind always did, asking
nothing, promising nothing. Just here.
He wrapped both hands around the mug, and the thought slipped out
of him before he could stop it. I thought I'd miss Eden every
day, but right now I don't. The ache.
Was still there. Low in his.
Chest but it. Didn't hollow him out the.
Way he feared. It's often when he remembered
Noah's grin. Kai.
Picked up his phone. The hour in Eden was early
enough. His mother answered almost at
once. They chatted for a while and
then Kai said. I'll be there.
Before Christmas, smiling into the.
Receiver you need. Anything from Sydney.
His mom's laugh came warm, certain.
Just you, son. And Noah.
When the call ended, the room felt.
Steadier, like the waltz had settled.
Closer round him. Less like borrowed.
Space and more like home. Kai slipped back inside and
walked toward the bedroom. Noah.
Was already there. Sprawled across.
The bed bare. Skin against.
White sheets towel. Abandoned at the.
Foot board. He didn't.
Speak. He just.
Crooked a finger, the grin tugging at his mouse, playful,
unguarded. Kai's laugh caught in his
throat. Half nerves, half.
Release. He closed the door.
Softly behind him, the skyline glowed beyond the curtains, the
city humming on inside. The rest of their life was.
Waiting, unboxed, unpracticed, entirely theirs.
Eden had shaped Kai and Noah. It's tide had taught them
patience, it's storms had taught them silence, and it's silence
had taught them how heavy longing could be.
They had carried that weight for.
Years Sydney didn't erase what came before.
It didn't ask them to. Forget the harbor that raised
them. Or the house.
That kept its door open. It only asked that they step.
Forward. Into noise, into light, into a
horizon wide enough to hold more than one life.
I and Noah brought Eden with them, not as an anchor to drag.
But as a. Compass to guide.
Each. Lap across the dinner.
Table each. Glance under lamplight.
Each. Touch that lingered in the dark.
All of it lived here too. In a city that didn't know
their. History, but was already part of
their future. This was how love returned, not
to the place it began. But to the people who chose to
keep it alive. To the ones who.
Said yes after. Years of waiting to the men who
would go back every winter, not as boys aching to belong.
But as. Partners who had found a new
belonging in each other. Thank you for listening to Salt
in Our Veins. Subscribe like.
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