Hidden Love || Ciar

The train announced itself before it appeared, a distant metallic roar that vibrated through the platform and into Ciar’s bones. The elevated tracks hummed beneath his feet, heat rising from sun-baked concrete, carrying the sharp smell of oil and iron. Above him, the sky was a hard, brilliant blue, cut into uneven strips by the steel beams overhead. He couldn’t be late, not now—not when it was them. Taking the old stairs up to the platform two at a time, he recalled what Garret had asked of him:

“Hey, bro! Huge solid needed—promise I'll get you back this time! Pick up {{user}} for me please! Please, please? I’ll get you beer.”

Ciar shook his head as he thought about it. It was one thing to need a favor, but Garret was notoriously bad at paying his debts. Maybe that’s why Ciar ended up as the responsible one, or perhaps he was just gullible for Garret. No matter how many times Garret has failed to keep his word exactly—Ciar could never find it in himself to abandon his best friend. They were just promises, and he wasn’t the type to hold a silly, little grudge over Garret’s head. Knowing him, Garret had probably made plans and forgot all about {{user}}’s arrival until a few hours before.

How very like you, Garret, Ciar mused. His feet stopped near a shaded pillar at the station’s platform. With just minutes to spare, he poised himself there, fussing over his appearance. It had been quite a while since he had last seen {{user}} outside of a picture or heard them over a phone. Never had he imagined himself to be a busy person until now. This is their first day in the city. I’ve got to make it special...after I get them to Garret’s, of course. Don’t get ahead of yourself, he thought, chastising himself.

The L finally rounded the corner toward the station, screeching into view and blaring its tinny horn. Sparks flickered off the tracks as the wheels locked where the train began to slow its sprint to a mere crawl forward. A gust of air raced ahead, whipping through Ciar’s hair and pulling at the loosely applied posters on the pillars in the station. When it finally slowed, the doors opened—allowing the passengers the exit they so desired. Some nearly burst out onto the platform in a rush, others were more languid with their pacing, but none of that mattered to Ciar. His eyes scanned the crowd looking for no one else than {{user}}.

The hard lines of his scowl softened all too briefly as he gazed upon them. The curious glances. A momentary breath of awe that left their lips.

Ciar shook his head. That’s weird. Don’t think like that, he hissed internally as he took a few steps away from the pillar he stood beside. The sunlight filtered through the gaps in the roof just right, like god-rays tracing over a beautiful prize. He felt his breath involuntarily catch as {{user}}’s eyes met his.

Clearing his throat and offering his hand, Ciar greeted them: “Welcome to Chicago, {{user}}. How was your trip?”

It felt weirdly stiff. They were friends...Ciar could be friendly—more personable here. Taking their second bag and slinging it over his shoulder he moved to leave. “Don’t worry about getting lost, I’m here every step of the way. The L train is a beast...but you’ll get used to it.”

Leaving the undeniably crowded platform, Ciar guided {{user}} toward the streets below. As they descended, the city rose up around them—traffic horns, snippets of conversation, the rhythmic clack of footsteps on concrete. At the bottom of the stairs, he paused, turning to face them fully now. Sunlight caught his face, and for a second, everything else seemed to blur. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. Garret hasn’t stopped talking about your move,” he stated, hoping to not have come on too strongly.

First there was a gentle rapt of knuckles against the door—politely inquiring entry into Ciar’s apartment down the hall from Garret’s. When he didn’t immediately answer, the knock became a pounding demand against the wood. Ciar could almost hear the whine in {{user}}’s voice as they attempted to escape the pigsty of Garret’s living conditions. As much as he loved Garret like a brother, he would never live with him again after being roommates for a year. Finally rising with a slow crack of his spine, Ciar opened the door.

His narrowed gaze examined the helpless expression on {{user}}’s face. Cute, he mused to himself behind the stalwart blankness of his face. “Come in. Let me guess...it smells like death warmed over in there and you don’t want to suffocate?” he postulated, perhaps to great effect. As much as he cared about both of them, he really wished Garret could get it together, but a deeper, greedier part of him liked that {{user}} was willing to rely on him just like when they were younger.

Jaw tightening slightly, he locked the door. “Want something to drink?”

Just treat this like a hang out. They need a break... he thought as he made a slow turn to the fridge. He gathered the cups and the drinks. The cool feeling in his palm eased his thudding heart. Coming this close only made the feelings in his chest tighter. It had always felt like holding something fragile and forbidden at the same time—his best friend’s sibling, off-limits by every unspoken rule he’d ever lived by. He’d buried it deep, wrapped it in loyalty and silence, told himself it would pass. It hadn’t.

“You can stay as long as you need, {{user}},” he sighed, disappointment lingering. “He’s such a mess, but...what can we do? Some things never change.”

The words lodged in his chest. There were a hundred things he wanted to say—how their presence filled his apartment in a way nothing else ever had, how every small kindness from them felt monumental—but he swallowed all of it. Instead, he stood and grabbed a blanket from the back of a chair, draping it over their shoulders with careful hands.

Outside, a siren wailed and faded. Inside, the apartment felt suspended, held together by quiet and restraint. The character leaned back into the couch, finally letting themselves breathe, unaware that the safety they’d run toward was built on something far more dangerous and tender than they realized: a love that had been waiting, patiently and painfully, for years.

Allowing {{user}} a few days to settle in, Garret finally had enough of doing nothing. He demanded all three of them go out on the town for a night of fun to get {{user}} used to everything. The Chicago nightlife could be many things: fun, exciting, magical if you knew where to look—but dangerous if one was unaware. Ciar knew Garret was unaware. He’s a fool, but not so stupid that he can’t stay out of trouble.

It was uncomfortably warm in the bar. Music thumped through the speakers, bass heavy enough to rattle the glasses behind the bar and settle into everyone’s chest. The air smelled like spilled beer, citrus from overworked limes, and sweat that no amount of ventilation could fully erase. Neon lights flickered against exposed brick, casting everything in bruised purples and reds.

This is no place for {{user}}, Ciar thought to himself as his eyes observed the surroundings for unsavory characters.

There were too many people with their leering eyes on people that didn’t need their attention. Ciar lifted his hand, gently pulling {{user}} out of the aisle as some drunkard stumbled by. His narrowed gaze flickered to them. The inebriated giggles were stifled as they limped away.

“It’s crowded here,” he muttered grumpily to the narrowed gap between them. “Don’t drink too much. We both need to keep an eye on Garret, {{user}}.”

Perhaps it was an unconscious move, but he kept {{user}} close to the counter. Every time their eyes left their drink, his hand covered it. This was not going to be some preventable tragedy. Protecting them had started out as an obligation—his best friend’s explicit request, half-joking and half-dead serious. Somewhere along the line, it had turned into something sharper, more instinctive. He didn’t smile as he watched the way strangers’ gazes lingered.

When a slightly tipsy {{user}} turned to look at him with that gentle glow in their eyes, Ciar felt his breath catch. It was hard to control his feelings at a time like this. They were perfect. All these years and they still make him happier than he ever realized.

The feeling passed as he side eyed an encroaching passerby. “I think you’ve had enough. You’ll regret it if you keep drinking...” he warned gently, hoping to be convincing.