Broken Compass

Nate turns on his side and throws a leg over Kash’s. “Move over. I’ll fall off.”

“Whiner,” West mutters, brushing a hand over Nate’s hair.

“Told you we need a bigger bed,” Kash breathes, a ghost of a smile on his face.

I smile back. Yeah, we don’t fit.

We don’t fit, all four of us in this bed, in this apartment, in this strange relationship. And yet we make it work. We make it fit.

Love is a bitch. It burns you down to the ground and dances in the ashes. It tortures you and hurts you in the worst possible way. It eats you up alive and spits out your bones.

But if you live through the pain, and fight for those you love, there’s no greater joy than finding them by your side at the end. When all’s said and done, surviving love isn’t possible. You need to give in, let it pull you under, let it change you.

It has changed us. Brought us together with ties that run stronger than blood. It has made us into who we are today, has forged this little family that transcends the ordinary, the customary, and just is.

It is a family because we want in this together. We can’t live without each other. We can’t do this apart. We get along like a house on fire.

It’s as if fate wants us to be together. We are the four points of the compass—Nate for the North, Sydney for the South, Evgeni Kasimir for the East and West well… for the West. Together we form a whole.

We form a world.

This is us and this is our love story.

Second Epilogue

Nate

A year later

“Honey, I’m home!” I toss my keys into the bowl by the door and do a small victory dance when I hit my target dead center. “It will be a home run!” I yell. “Are you ready?”

I hear low laughter, and seconds later Kash is leaning against the door leading into the living room, muscular arms folded over his chest, eyes hooded. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Insolent brat.” I prowl toward him, and his eyes widen in alarm. “I’ll teach you some manners.”

“That so?” He doesn’t move, but tension flows through his tall body, those strong shoulders. “Something happen today?”

“I got the job.”

“You had an interview today?” He blinks golden lashes, and I drag my hand up to his face. “I didn’t know.”

“I had the interview last week. They called today.”

“Oh fuck, right. Right. Congrats, man.” He rubs at his forehead.

He has a lot going on. No wonder he forgot. We finished our GEDs, got better jobs. Bought a better car.

And Kash got his inheritance, bought us a house with the small change and is trying to figure out what to do with the rest. The whole thing requires endless hours of meetings with lawyers and company CEOs and paperwork.

On top of working. Yeah, he’s still working, but not at the restaurant. He’s studying history at college and taking it very seriously.

“You’re tired.”

“Ah-huh.”

Dammit, I’m fucking worried he’ll get sick. He’s susceptible when he’s too stressed and sleeps too little. Kash thinks he’s superhuman, and he did pull a nearly superhuman feat by escaping his kidnappers and coming back to find us, feverish and confused as he was, but he’s all too human, like the rest of us.

Someone has to be there, pull him back, help him find his feet. He needs people to look after him, he needs us, just like we need him.