Chapter Seven
Hans
A warm glow grew in his chest, the train’s steady drumming a comforting promise of adventure.
The adrenaline from the hot rods had faded into something softer, warmer, a quiet hum between them neither seemed eager to break.
The sky had darkened as the night wore on.
Hans kept catching Adrik glancing at him, quick flicks of his eyes and a smile like he was checking to make sure Hans was still there.
It only reaffirmed they were both attempting to confirm their place with each other.
The pull between them was heavy and undeniable, a gravity that seemed to tug them closer every moment.
After their stop, they walked side by side through the station’s exit, the cold air rushing in to greet them.
The Ferris wheel’s looming silhouette cast a chilling shadow as an icy breeze seized them.
The gondolas swayed gently, their glass catching the faint glow of the harbor lights. The distant hum of machinery blew in the wind.
The scent of saltwater drifted in from the Baltic, sharp and bracing. An icy breeze swept across the platform, cutting through Hans’ jacket and stealing the warmth from his cheeks.
Then Adrik just stopped walking.
A wide grin spread across Adrik’s face as he gazed at the ride and broke the silence.
“I went on that Ferris wheel with my grandfather when I turned eighteen. We had fish sandwiches and draft beer on the Ferris wheel overlooking the Baltic Sea. I’ll never forget that trip.
He didn’t tell anyone where we were going, and when we got home, neither of us spoke about it. ”
“I didn’t know you’d been here before.”
“Only once.”
“Is your grandfather still around?”
Adrik closed his eyes for a few seconds, a serene smile gracing his lips as if he were remembering a very special moment. “No.”
“I guess you were here when the weather was good?”
“June.”
“And your birthday is?”
“Are you fishing for info?”
Adrik had shared something of his past, but Hans noticed he shifted his gaze as if he were done sharing personal information. He wouldn’t push to find out more about this man he was so desperate to know inside and out.
With each step, Hans sweated more, and they both just stood there when they got to Adrik’s cottage.
Then Adrik finally turned toward him, his expression unreadable but intense. “You want to come in?”
Hans swallowed, pulse kicking up. “Yeah. I do.”
The cottage was warmer on the inside than it had been before, or perhaps Hans was only more conscious of the man beside him. Adrik closed the door behind them, and the soft click of the lock echoed like a promise.
For a moment, they just stood there, facing each other in the dim light. Hans’ throat pounded with his heartbeat. Adrik looked different now—not guarded, not smirking, but open in a way Hans hadn’t seen yet. Vulnerable, even.
“You know,” Adrik said, “I wasn’t sure you’d come inside again.”
Hans stepped closer. “I wasn’t sure either.”
Adrik let out a breath, almost a laugh. “But you did.”
“I did.” Hans nodded.
They were close enough Hans could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to see the details of the gold dagger dangling from his ear, and close enough to smell the mix of pine shower gel and cold salt air clinging to his shirt.
Adrik’s voice dropped. “Hans…”
Hans didn’t know who moved first. Maybe they both did. One moment there was a space between them, and the next Adrik’s hand was on his jaw, warm and steady, and Hans was leaning into it like he’d been waiting for this all night.
Their lips met; slow at first, almost cautious, like they were testing the shape of each other. Something inside him loosened as the ache of the past few years melted under the heat of the moment.
Adrik lunged forward, his momentum driving Hans back until he hit the wall with a dull thud, the sudden heavy weight of Adrik’s body pressed flush against his own. Before Hans could catch his breath, Adrik’s hands slammed against the surface on either side of his head, pinning him there.
Adrik didn’t leave an inch of space between them. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding inside as Hans responded blindly. The heat was overwhelming. Hans’ fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of Adrik’s T-shirt, clutching at the solid muscle beneath.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Adrik rested his forehead against Hans’, eyes closed for a moment like he was steadying himself.
“Fuck,” Adrik murmured. “I’ve wanted to do that since the bar.”
Hans laughed softly, his voice a little shaky. “Yeah. Me too.”
Adrik opened his eyes, and the look he gave Hans was warm and intense enough to make his knees feel unsteady.
“Stay for a while,” Adrik said.
Hans didn’t hesitate. “I’m not going anywhere.”
They moved to the couch without really talking about it, like their bodies had already decided for them. The cottage was dim, lit only by a small lamp in the corner. It made everything feel closer, softer, like the world outside didn’t exist.
Adrik sat first, leaning back, legs slightly apart, looking at him with the same intense focus that had pulled him in from the start. Hans hesitated for half a second, old instincts telling him to be careful, to guard himself, but then Adrik lifted a hand and gently tugged him closer.
Hans sat beside him, their knees brushing. Even that small touch sent a warm rush through him.
“You okay?” Hans asked.
Adrik nodded, though there was something in his eyes—something raw, flickering just beneath the surface like a flame caught behind glass.
Hans saw it in the way Adrik’s gaze lingered a second too long, in the way his breath hitched almost imperceptibly.
It wasn’t fear exactly, but it lived close to it.
A tightness. A bruise. A truth he wasn’t ready to name.
Hans felt it in the air between them too—warm and charged, carrying the faint scent of Adrik’s cologne—clean, sharp, with a hint of stale smoke from the porch.
It clung to him, to the room, to the moment.
And for a heartbeat, Hans wondered what it would take for Adrik to let that guard slip completely, to let whatever lived behind those blue eyes finally breathe.
Whatever it was, Hans knew he wasn’t meant to ask. Not yet. Maybe never.
But he felt it.
And he knew Adrik felt him noticing.
They sat like that for a moment, the silence comfortable, the air thick with unspoken things. He could feel the heat of Adrik’s body beside him, the steady rise and fall of his chest. He longed to repeat the kiss, but he held back, wishing for Adrik to lean in and begin the embrace.
Adrik broke the silence first. “You know… I rarely do this.”
Hans smiled softly. “Do what?”
“Let someone into my home or into my life.” Adrik’s voice was low, almost hesitant. “I’m not good at it.”
Hans shifted closer, their shoulders touching now. “You’re doing fine.”
Adrik huffed a quiet laugh. “You make it easy.”
Hans’ chest tightened in a good way. “You make it tempting.”
Adrik turned his head, their faces inches apart again. “Tempting, huh?”
Hans nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Very.”
Adrik reached up, fingers brushing Hans’ cheek, slow and deliberate. Hans leaned into the touch without thinking, his breath catching. The moment stretched, charged and delicate, like a held note.
Then Adrik kissed him again, deeper this time, and more certain. Hans melted into it, one hand sliding up to Adrik’s shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric. Adrik’s other hand settled at Hans’ waist, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frantic.
A warm, steady feeling washed over Hans, filling him with a sense of connection he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Real, immediate, undeniable.
When they finally pulled apart, Hans rested his forehead against Adrik’s, breathing him in.
“This feels… good,” he murmured.
Adrik nodded, eyes half-closed. “Yeah. It does.”
Hans let his hand rest on Adrik’s chest, feeling the steady beat beneath his palm. “We don’t have to rush anything.”
“I know,” Adrik whispered. “I just… didn’t want to stop kissing you.”
Hans smiled, his heart doing that stupid flutter again. “Good. Because I didn’t want you to.”
They stayed like that for a while—close, warm, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. No pressure. No expectations. Just two men who’d been carrying too much for too long, finally letting themselves breathe.
After all this time, Hans felt something he’d not been allowing himself to feel. Hope.
They sat on the couch, near enough for Hans to feel Adrik’s warmth, but not in a way that seemed too intimate.
The kiss still lingered between them—warm, electric, impossible to ignore—but now there was a quietness, a carefulness, like they were both aware of the invisible lines they weren’t ready to cross.
Adrik leaned back, one arm draped along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing lightly against Hans’ shoulder. It was casual, but every point of contact sparked.
“You’re quiet,” Hans whispered.
“So are you,” Adrik replied.
Hans shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just… thinking.”
“About what?”
Hans met his eyes. “You.”
Adrik’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. “Yeah. Me too.”
He hadn't expected the admission to affect him so profoundly.
Instead, he shifted closer, letting their shoulders touch fully. “This is nice,” Hans said.
Adrik nodded. “Yeah. It is.”
They stayed that way for a while. Hans could feel the tension between them, not the sharp, electric kind from earlier, but something deeper, quieter. A pull. A curiosity. A wanting.
But also, a wall.
Adrik broke the silence first. “You know… I’m not really the type to talk about myself.”
Hans huffed a soft laugh. “Good. I’m not either.”
Adrik looked at him, something like relief flickering across his face. “So we’re on the same page?”
“Yeah,” Hans said. “We don’t have to explain anything.”
Adrik nodded slowly. “Good.”
Hans didn’t want to ruin the moment. He didn’t want to scare Adrik off. And honestly, he wasn’t ready to spill his own secrets either. Not about Dirk. Not about the hurt he still carried.
So they stayed in that comfortable, fragile space—close enough to feel connected, distant enough to stay safe.
After a moment, Adrik reached out and took Hans’ hand, his grip warm and steady. “I’m glad you came today.”
Hans squeezed back. “Me too.”
They didn’t kiss again. They didn’t need to. The warmth of Adrik’s hand in his was enough—a promise without words, a connection without explanations.
“Want a drink? My bar is stocked as always.” Adrik pointed to it.
“Beer.”
Adrik kissed Hans behind his ear and whispered, “I’ll be right back.”
He made himself a double vodka, carried over Hans’ beer, then sat down with his own drink.
Two men with secrets, sitting together letting themselves want something without naming it.
For now, that was enough.