This Means War

13. - RAFAEL -

thirteen

- RAFAEL -

A safe house was meantto be a place to regroup. A quiet haven to think, plan, and reset. Hereand tonight though, it was something much more.

Irememberwalking into this house for the first time,the wayit felt impossibly warm and lived-in.There was a quiet beauty in the mismatched furniture, the family photographs lining the walls, andthe way the light hit the kitchen tiles in the late afternoon. It wasn’t extravagant or polished like the places I’d grown up in—it was real.

And Luis belonged here, seamlessly woven into the warmth and quiet beauty of the house like he was part of its very foundation—a steady, grounding presence that continued to exist amid the world’s nonsense.

He was so different back then, or maybeI just saw him differently.He wasn’t the man who could command a room with a glance, or make me feel like I had to prove myself every time we spoke. He was just Luis—fierce and funny, maybe a little awkward in a way that made him all the more endearing. I’d followed him into this house like it was the most natural thing in the world, but the moment we’d stepped inside, I realized I’d been holding my breath the entire time.

I remembered how he’d moved through the space back then, so completely at ease, before the world taught him to always keep a defensive front. In high school, he’d drop onto the worn living room couch with his legs casually crossed and tucked close, a picture of effortless comfort. I remembered the way he’d rummage through the kitchen for snacks, his shirt lifting just enough to reveal a glimpse of his stomach—and the strange, unshakable ache it caused in my chest. A secret I wasn’t even ready to name. It wasn’t just that I wanted his home life—I wanted to be near him always, or maybe I wanted to know what it felt like to have someone look at me the way I couldn’t stop looking at him.

It washere, in this house,thatI’d first realized that liking men wasn’t some distant, abstract idea. It was the way my throat tightened when Luis smiled at me from across the room, how my skin burned when his shoulder brushed against mine as he leaned past me to grab the remote. It was how his laugh stayed with me long after I’d left, echoing in the corners of my mind like a song I couldn’t stop replaying.

I didn’t know what to do with those feelings back then. I hadn’t been ready to admit what they meant, let alone what I wanted. So, I buried them, like I buried so many other parts of myself, and told myself that whatever I felt for Luis was just... unimportant.

The world wanted men to compete against each other. So we did. But standing here again, surrounded by the same walls, the same quiet warmth, I couldn’t pretend those memories didn’t exist. I couldn’t pretend that this dangerous game we were playing hadn’t brought all of it rushing back, sharper and more undeniable than ever. The air felt heavier, the silence more intimate, like the house itself remembered what I was too afraid to admit.

I leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter. Across the room, Luis sat rigid on the sofa, his arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed somewhere out from the patio door. Monica stood near the fire, her posture as calm and composed as always, but even she couldn’t hide the tension in her shoulders.

The three of us lingered like wolves in a too-small den, each watching, waiting, and bracing for the next move.

“Are we going to sit here all night pretending there’s no plan?” I said, breaking the silence.

Luis’ jaw tightened, and he finally turned his eyes on me.“A plan would bea lot easier to come byif someone didn’t treat this like a game.”

I smirked, taking a slow sip from my mug. “Who says I’m not playing to win?”

Monica sighed, stepping between us like a referee who had grown tired of this fight. “Enough,” she said sharply. “We’re not getting anywhere with this.”

“Tell that to him,” Luis muttered.

“Tell that to yourself,” I shot back, the words sharper than I intended.

The problem wasn’t just that Luis and I couldn’t agree. It was that I still couldn’t stop watching him, couldn’t stop gauging his every move, every expression. He was the only person I’d ever met who could make me feel like I was playing catch-up, and I hated it.

Except I didn’t.

Because as much as I wanted to outmaneuver him, I also wanted to see if we could move in sync instead ofalways circling each other. Come together instead of just mirroring each other’s machismo.

It was maddening.

And Monica, of course, saw right through it.

“Are you two done staring each other down?” she asked, her tone laced with exasperation. “Or do I need to lock you in a room until you figure outwhatever this is?”

Luis stiffened, his eyes flicking to her, then back to me. “Whatever this is,” he repeated, his tone icy.

I raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Instead, I crossed the room to the small table where my laptop sat. “Let me show you everything my team collected so far.”

We gathered around the table, andthe tension between us was redirected. On the screen was a grainy video of security footage. The time stamp was recent, no more than a few hours old.

“That’s one of the CEO’s associates,” Monica said, pointing to a man in a sharp suit stepping out of a car.He was flanked by two others.They were obscure podcast hosts until the CEO shined a light onto them.

“Where was this?” Luis asked, leaning closer.

“An event space downtown,” I replied. “They’re hosting a private tech summit tomorrow. Invite-only. And rumor has it, they’re bringing in all the trolls to maximize the online reach.”

“In hopes of virality?” Luis asked, his voice low.

“More like continued harassment campaigns,” Monica grumbled.

I leaned back, crossing my arms. “So we crash the summit, make our own scene. Force their hand.”

“Force their hand?” Luis shook his head. “If we go in without a plan, we’ll... blow everything.”

“Since when do you play it safe?” I asked, my tone challenging.

“Since I realized the stakes are higher than your ego,” he shot back.

Monica’s voice cut through the brewing argument. “We can do this, but we gotta do this smart. Less improvising, less unnecessary risks.” She looked at both of us, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass. “Can we agree to be a trio?”

Luis nodded, though the tension in his jaw remained. I gave a mock salute, earning an eye roll and smile from Monica.

As the night wore on, the plan began to take shape. I would secure the logistics—credentials, entry points, andescape routes. Luis and Monica would be the boots on the ground, one blending into the crowd while gathering intel as the other makes sure no incel gets too close.

It was a solid plan. Practical, efficient.

And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t enough. Did it have enough pizzazz? If I could reach back in time and ask Luis from high school, he’d know exactly. Nowadays, I can only think about looking cool in a fight.

After an hour or two, Monica retired to one of the bedrooms and Luis was double-checking the locks for what had to be the third time, I found myself lingering by the fireplace. The flames cast flickering shadows across the room, their warmth doing little to chase away the uneasethat had settledin my chest.

I didn’t hear Luis approach, but I felt his presence before I saw him.

“You’ve been pretty talkative tonight,” he said, his tone almost curious.

“Don’t get used to it,” I replied, glancing over my shoulder.

He didn’t laugh, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the stoic mask he always wore.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” I asked suddenly.

“Tired of what?”

“This,” I said, gesturing vaguely. “The games, the plans, the constant need to be three steps ahead.”

Luis hesitated, his gaze dropping to the fire. “This is what it means to be an adult,” he said quietly. “We have a country, and Monica to protect now.”

I nodded, his words settling in the space between us. “I know.”

For a moment, we stood there in silence, the crackle of the fire the only sound.

The quiet was broken by the faint buzz of my phone.I pulled it from my pocket, frowning as I read the message.

“What is it?” Luis asked, his tone sharp.

“It’s from Monica,” I said, holding up the screen so he could see. “She says no fighting.”

His gaze flicked toward the closed door of her room. “She knows us too well.”

“She probably wanted to give us a chance to stop glaring at each other like we’re in a schoolyard fight,” I said with a smirk.

“I don’t think that’s it.” Luis’ eyes narrowed, and I braced myself for a sharp retort, but instead, he surprised me. “But maybe she’s right. Maybe we do need to figure out... whatever this is. ”

He said it so quietly I almost missed it, his voice blending with the fire’s crackle. For a moment, it felt like the room stilled, like the weight of his words pressed against me, daring me to answer.

I tilted my head, studying him in the flickering light. The fire cast sharp shadows across his face, softening the edges of his usual stoicism, making him seem... younger. More vulnerable.

“You’re the one who keeps making it a fight,” I said, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

Luis crossed his arms again. “I don’t know how else to be with you,” he admitted, and the honesty in his words hit me like a punch.

I wanted to laugh it off, to say something snarky, but the look in his eyes stopped me. It was raw, unguarded, and it made my chest ache in a way I hadn’t felt often since the first time I’d been in this house all those years ago.

“Maybe we don’t have to fight,” I said, my voice quieter now. “Maybe we just... exist. Together. No games, no plans, no three steps ahead.”

His eyes searched my face like he was trying to figure out if I was serious. For a moment, I thought he might say something, but instead, he let out a long breath and shook his head.

“Not today,” he said, voice steady once more. “And let’s get through tomorrow.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what I was even agreeing to anymore. If nothing else, I could make Monica happy by not fighting. So I turned back to the fire, my mind spinning with everything now half said. The flames flickered, casting light and shadow across the room, and I thought about how much easier it was to fight than to feel.