Eighteen Years
by Edward Kyle Stokes
Chapter 8
My Heart is With Harry.
The move into Callum's flat felt like a victory, a seamless solution that solved everyone's immediate problems. Aled finally had a proper home, Harry could focus on his exams without worrying about violating his hall of residence rules, and Callum's rent anxiety vanished.
Over the next couple of weeks, a quiet, calm serenity settled into the ambience of the flat. It was a mutual coexistence that brought its own peace, an undeniable harmony, but with a certain piquance. Aled, was rapidly gaining confidence in himself and he noticed the way Callum moved around the flat, the casual press of shoulders when they passed in the narrow hallway, or the lingering glances over the breakfast table. He accepted this new found affinity. Even Harry, fiercely loyal as he was, wasn't immune to the visual dynamic of the flat—especially when Callum lounged on the sofa in nothing but track bottoms after a long shift at the pub.
The switch from casual flatmates to something entirely different happened incrementally. It started on the Tuesday night, a week after they'd been living together. Harry had been closeted in the bedroom all day, buried under a mountain of revision notes for his final economics exam. His eyes were bloodshot, and his broad shoulders were tightly knotted with stress. When he finally emerged to sit at the kitchen table waiting for the kettle to boil. Callum, was first to notice the exhaustion radiating from the rugby player. Aled was making tea.
"Your boy looks like he's about to snap," Callum murmured, leaning against the counter. "Want me to help fix that?"
Aled looked at Callum, an unspoken trust passing between them . "Yeah," Aled whispered.
Callum walked up behind Harry's chair and placed his hands on his tense shoulders, immediately digging into the knots. Harry let out a long, ragged groan, dropping his head back. Aled occupied himself with making the tea, but all the while watching as the silent observer. The line between platonic comfort and romantic attraction blurred right there. What started as a shoulder massage evolved into something more. There was an undeniable mutual acceptance that there was a chemistry between them which was too strong to ignore.
Over the next weeks the relationship between the three evolved. Harry and Aled remained the couple in love—their romantic foundation was unbreakable, built on the trauma of Aled leaving the farm and the emotions and feelings they shared. But they opened up their space to include Callum.
Sometimes it was as simple as Callum and Aled sharing a moment together after a hectic shift at the pub, talking about life in a way Aled could never talk to anyone else other than Harry. Sometimes it was Harry and Callum watching a rugby match on the television, trading easy banter that seamlessly shifted into something hotter when Aled walked into the room.
For Aled, the transformation was staggering. Only a few weeks ago, he was a closeted boy in the valleys who thought he was entirely alone in the world. Now, he was living in a beautiful city, had a job, and was being loved and desired by an incredible man, maybe two, who both treated him like he was the centre of their universe.
Everyone seemed to benefit from this new found living arrangement. Callum no longer felt like the lonely third wheel losing out on the good ones; he was a vital part of a team. Harry's exam stress melted away under the collective care of his two boys. And as the clock ticked down toward the end of June and Harry's final graduation, the three of them had created a safe, beautiful sanctuary in Chester, completely redefined by nature, hormones, and an unexpected, beautiful kind of love.
With the final exams finished, the grueling, intense studying period was behind him, Harry was ready to focus on the next step. But the most significant cloud hanging over them was the unresolved rupture between Aled and his family.
Aled was fiercely resistant. "Why would we go back there, Harry?" he argued one evening, pacing the living room of the flat. "Things are going so well here. I have a job, we have this flat, I have you... and Callum. Going back there will only drag all the poison back into our lives."
Harry listened patiently but didn't back down. Surprisingly, it was Callum who swung the balance. Leaning against the kitchen doorframe, Callum spoke up softly. "He's right, Aled. You're thriving now, but if you don't face them on your own terms, that farm is always going to feel like a ghost chasing you. Go back, show them you survived, and close the door properly so you can move on."
Reluctantly, out of deep trust for both of them, Aled agreed.
The ride up into the familiar Welsh valley on Sunday afternoon was thick with an anxious silence. Aled felt the strength of Harry's arms wrapped tightly around his waist as the rugged hills closed in around them. When the motorbike finally bounced onto the dirt track of the isolated sheep farm, Aled's breathing turned shallow.
The front door of the farmhouse opened, and Iwan, Aled's older brother, stepped out onto the porch, his expression hardening the moment he recognised his brother's motorbike jacket. Behind him, the towering, weathered figure of their father appeared in the doorway.
As Aled shut off the engine and climbed from the bike, his legs felt like lead, but Harry was right beside him—broad, imposing, and a solid wall of support.
"What are you doing here?" Iwan barked, crossing his arms. "Dad told you if you walked out, that was it."
Aled swallowed hard, but instead of shrinking back like he used to, he looked his brother dead in the eyes. "I'm not here begging to come back, Iwan. I came to get the rest of my things. And I came so you could see me."
His father stepped forward, his eyes darting curiously from Aled to Harry. The old man's face was a mask of stubborn pride, but beneath it there was a flash of genuine shock. He had clearly expected Aled to come crawling back, broken and regretful, within a few days or weeks. Instead, Aled stood before him with obviously no intention of returning, and accompanied by another of his kind, with a quiet confidence that hadn't existed before.
"You've chosen your path then," his father said, his voice gruff, lacking the explosive rage of the other Sunday, but still cold. "With him."
"Yes," Aled said firmly, his voice steadying. "With Harry. I have a flat in Chester. I have a good job. I'm doing well, Dad. I just wanted you to know I'm happy, and I'm not changing who I am."
Harry stepped forward slightly, offering a polite but unyielding nod to Alex's father. "I'm looking after him, Mr. Morgan. We have a plan, and we're building a life together."
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the yard. For a long moment, Aled's father stared at his youngest son, seeing the boy had truly grown up and grown away from the valley. There was no grand apology, no tearful reconciliation—the deep-seated prejudice of the old farming community was too ingrained for that. But the screaming and shouting were absent, replaced by a quiet, begrudging realisation that Aled was gone for good.
His father gave a single, slow nod, turned on his heels, and walked back inside the house, leaving the door open. It was as much of a concession as they were ever going to get. Iwan spat on the gravel, mumbled something under his breath, and walked off toward the barns.
Harry wrapped a strong arm around Aled's shoulders, squeezing tightly. "Go get your things, babe. I'll wait right here."
Ten minutes later, Aled emerged from the house carrying a bag with his childhood sketchbooks and personal belongings. As he squeezed it into the rear box and tied the lid down, he looked up at the grey stone farmhouse one last time. The fear that had paralysed him for years was entirely gone.
As they rode back down the winding valley road, heading toward the bright lights of Chester and the warm sanctuary of the flat where Callum was waiting for them, Aled let out a long, cleansing breath. The visit hadn't been a reconciliation, but it had been necessary. He had faced his past, stood his ground, and finally left the valley behind—not as a runaway, but as a free man.
When they unlocked the door to the flat, the heavy, anxious atmosphere from the farm instantly lifted. Callum was waiting for them in the living room, leaning over the back of the sofa with a look of intense curiosity.
"Well?" Callum asked, his eyes searching Aled's face first. "How did it go? Are you alright?"
Before Aled could fully unpack the emotional weight of the visit, Callum remembered something and snapped his fingers. "Oh, before I forget—Harry, I have a message for you. Ian phoned. Apparently something's come up and h e wanted to know if you could cover his shift at the pub today?"
Ian was Harry's rugby mate—the entire reason they had the jobs in the first place—so Harry didn't hesitate. He pulled out his phone, called Ian back to confirm, and gave Aled a lingering, apologetic kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry to leave you right after the farm, babe," Harry murmured, squeezing Aled's hand. "But I owe him one. Will you be okay?"
"Go," Aled smiled softly, trying to hide the lingering exhaustion in his eyes. "I'll be fine."
With Harry gone for the rest of Sunday, Callum looked over at Aled, who was sitting on the edge of the sofa, staring blankly at the floor. The confrontation with his father and brother was still playing on a loop in Aled's mind, the cold rejection leaving a hollow ache in his chest.
"Right," Callum said briskly, clapping his hands together. "We are not letting you sit here and brood all afternoon. The weather is too nice. Come on, we're going out."
Aled protested at first, wanting nothing more than to curl up i n bed, but Callum gently nudged him, practically dragging him out of t he lounge and pushing him toward s the door.
They spent Sunday afternoon exploring a side of Chester that Aled hadn't entirely seen b efore and certainly not from the river . Callum took him down to the River Dee, where the banks were alive with people enjoying the sunshine. They rented a small electric motorboat, and Callum insisted on doing all the steering, making a fool of himself by pretending to navigate like a pirate just to make Aled laugh. It worked; by the time they pulled back into the marina, the heavy cloud over Aled's head had started to clear.
Afterward, they walked through the shaded paths of Grosvenor Park. Callum bought them two large ice cream cones and they found a quiet, grassy spot beneath a sprawling oak tree to sit and watch the world go by.
As they talked, Callum's true feelings for Aled began to show in the quiet, subtle ways he acted. Whenever Aled spoke about his art or his favorite music, Callum didn't just listen; he hung on every single word, his eyes locked onto Aled's face with a fierce, quiet intensity. When a sudden breeze blew through the trees, Callum noticed Aled shiver slightly and immediately stripped off t he jacket he was wearing, draping it over Aled's shoulders before Aled could s ay anything . Later, while they were laughing at a squirrel raiding a nearby bin, Callum reached over and casually wiped a stray bit of ice cream from the corner of Aled's m outh , his thumb lingering against Aled's skin a fraction of a second too long, his gaze dropping to Aled's l ips .
To Callum, these were glaring admissions of how deeply he was falling for the boy. He was captivated by Aled's quiet resilience, his innocence, h is beauty , a nd the new found confidence which was finally starting to emerge.
But Aled, completely consumed by the massive shifts in his own life, didn't notice what was developing at all. He was still so new to the idea of anyone being attracted to him that he completely misread Callum's behavior. When Callum gave him the jacket, Aled just thought he was being an incredibly thoughtful flatmate. When Callum stared at him, Aled assumed it was just the intense, friendly gaze of a supportive coworker who knew what he'd been through with his family.
Aled wore Callum's jacket, ate his ice cream, and felt a profound sense of gratitude for this new friendship, entirely blind to the fact that Callum was looking at him as so much more than just a friend.
The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets of Chester as Aled and Callum made their way back to the flat. Aled was still wearing Callum's jacket, feeling warm and more relaxed than he had in days, when Callum suddenly froze in his tracks.
"Oh, great," Callum muttered under his breath, though a faint, amused smile tugged at his lips. "Brace yourself."
Walking toward them was Noah.
Noah was Callum's ex-boyfriend, and he was a vibrant, walking explosion of unapologetic p resence . He was slim, dressed in an oversized vintage shirt, and sport ing a sharply styled haircut complete with bright pink highlights that caught the evening light. Noah didn't just walk; he glided with an exaggerated, theatrical flair, his hands moving dynamically through the air as he spotted them.
"Callum! You absolute bastard!" Noah cried out, his voice a melodic, dramatic theatrical projection that made a few p assersby turn and look.
Before Callum could even reply, Noah swooped in, throwing his arms around Callum's neck in a loud, air-kissing embrace. But the moment he pulled back, his bright eyes locked instantly onto Aled.
Noah gasped dramatically, clapping his manicured hands to his cheeks. "And who is this vision?"
Without waiting for an introduction, Noah stepped right into Aled's personal space. He was incredibly demonstrative, reaching out to gently pinch the lapel of the jacket Aled was wearing. "Hold on, is this your jacket, Cal? Since when do you let people borrow your clothes?" Noah's eyes danced with wicked glee as he patted Aled gently on the shoulder, his touch light and tactile. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a loud whisper. "Where on earth did you find such a n absolute cutie? Look at those curls! He's adorable."
Aled's cheeks instantly flared into a brilliant, burning crimson. He instinctively shrank back half a step, completely overwhelmed by Noah's larger-than-life energy and the sudden, intense attention. He looked at Callum with wide, pleading eyes, utterly flustered.
Callum laughed, stepping in to rescue him. "Noah, leave him alone, you're terrifying him. This is Aled. He works with me at the pub."
"A coworker? Oh, please, you expect me to believe that?" Noah scoffed playfully, winking at Aled. "Well, Aled, you are a breath of fresh air. And frankly, we cannot just stand here on the pavement. I demand a full debrief. Come on, there's a Costa just around the corner that's still open. My treat."
Aled looked at Callum, still embarrassed but secretly captivated by how effortlessly free Noah was. He had never met anyone so loudly, proudly gay in his entire life. Callum gave Aled a reassuring nod, and with Noah already d oing an-about-turn and gesturing dramatically for them to follow, the two boys made a detour, ready for a very lively Sunday evening coffee.
Inside the warm, brightly lit coffee shop, Noah was entirely in his element. He sat with his legs crossed, sipping a caramel latte, his sharp eyes locked onto Aled. Noah possessed a rare, disarming charm; his dramatic flair made him seem harmless, but underneath it lay a brilliant emotional intelligence. With a soft, encouraging smile and a series of gentle, perceptive questions, he effortlessly began to weasel Aled's entire story out of him. Aled, still raw from the afternoon's events, found himself opening up about the isolated sheep farm, his sudden coming out, and the cold rejection from his father.
"Oh, honey," Noah sighed, his exaggerated persona dropping for a brief second as he reached across the table to squeeze Aled's hand. "They don't deserve a sweet boy like you. Forget them, y ou're blossoming in the city now. Look at you."
Then, with a wicked glint returning to his eyes, Noah leaned back and shifted targets, turning his attention o n Callum , but still addressing Aled . "Though, speaking of f orgetting ... I c onclude you're living with him now , Aled? Good luck."
"Noah, don't start," Callum warned, hiding his face in his hands, already knowing what was coming.
Noah ignored him completely, launching into a half-joking, highly theatrical description of how badly Callum had allegedly treated him during their brief relationship. "He was absolutely heartless, Aled, I'm telling you! A total brute."
Laughing loudly, Noah leaned forward, his voice dropping to a gossipy whisper. "The man had only one thing on his mind, bless him. He pretends he's all sweet and professional at the pub, but he was easily won over when I wore my skimpy little tartan skirt around his flat. Total putty in my hands."
Aled choked slightly on his hot chocolate. A sudden, vivid image of Callum—the same confident, handsome guy who had just wrapped his jacket around Aled's shoulders—reacting to a boy in a tiny tartan skirt flashed through his mind. Aled tried desperately to hide his reaction, biting his lip and looking down at the table, but his face turned a violent, telltale shade of crimson.
Callum noticed instantly. "Noah, shut up! Seriously, stop it," Callum groaned, his own cheeks flushing as he kicked Noah under the table.
"Ouch! See? Cruel!" Noah cried out dramatically. But shutting Noah up was an absolute impossibility; the pink-highlighted force of nature was entirely unstoppable once he got going.
Eventually, reali s ing that resistance was futile, both Callum and Aled just gave up. They sat back and listened as Noah spent the next twenty minutes cheerfully describing his short, chaotic fling with Callum. He detailed their disastrous first date, Callum's terrible snoring, and the mutual reali s ation that they were much better off as friends.
Through the laughter and the embarrassment, Aled found himself listening to every word, his mind subtly shifting. For the first time, hearing about Callum's past exploits with another guy, that tiny seed of awareness in Aled's mind began to p ush its roots just a little bit deeper.
E ventually , Noah bounced out of the coffee shop with a dramatic wave and a loud promise not to be strangers, leaving a sudden, quiet stillness in his wake. As they stepped back out onto the darkened streets of Chester, a reali s ation washed over Aled. For the last two hours, he hadn't thought about his father, his brother s , or the cold stone farmhouse once. The heavy, suffocating negativity of his family had been completely crowded out by laughter and pink highlights.
He looked over at Callum, a bright smile on his face. "Does everyone in the city have a personality that big?" Aled asked as they turned down their street. "Do you have any more surprises for me?"
"God, I hope not," Callum laughed, though his pace slowed as they approached the front of their building. "Just this..."
They had reached the front door, the orange glow of the streetlamp catching the sharp lines of Callum's jaw. Callum stopped, turning to face Aled. He smiled, a soft, incredibly vulnerable expression, and looked straight into Aled's eyes. Before Aled could say a nything , Callum leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips.
The contact lasted only a fraction of a second before Callum immediately regretted the move.
Aled stood completely frozen, his eyes wide, the sudden sensation of Callum's lips against his own sending a jolt of pure shock through his system. Seeing the absolute stillness, Callum s tepped back instantly, his face draining of colo u r.
"Oh, God. Aled, I'm sorry," Callum stammered, his fingers shaking as he fumbled the key, scraping it loudly against the brass lock. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that. Seriously, I'm an idiot."
The walk up the stairs was thick with an agoni s ing, heavy silence. But by the time they reached the safety of the lounge, the initial shock had worn off and Aled's mind was racing. He slowly unzipped Callum's jacket, slipped it off his shoulders, and stepped forward to hand it back to him.
As they stood there facing each other in the quiet room, the fog in Aled's mind completely cleared. Like a film playing in reverse, he suddenly reali s ed the true meaning behind all of Callum's little attentions over the past few weeks—the protective hand on his shoulder at the pub, the way Callum hung on his every word, the lingering looks, and the jacket wrapped around him in the park. It wasn't just flatmate protocol. Callum truly cared a bout him , more than simply cared!
Aled looked at him, his expression softening into a warm, incredibly gentle smile.
"Callum," Aled said softly, taking a step closer. "I have Harry, and..."
Before he could finish the sentence, Callum reached out, his index finger gently touching Aled's lips to silence him. "Don't say it," Callum whispered, his eyes shining with a painful kind of honesty. "Please. Don't."
Aled looked at Callum intensely. His heart was beating l oudly , a fierce, fluttering rhythm. He thought about where he had been a week ago, and he thought about the incredible warmth this boy had brought into his life when he had absolutely nothing. For the first time in his new life, Aled didn't overthink, he didn't shrink back, and he didn't let fear dictate his actions. Driven entirely by raw emotion and a deep, genuine feeling of affection, Aled closed the distance between them.
He leaned in and kissed Callum gently on the cheek.
The kiss was lingering, sweet, and full of an unspoken understanding. When Aled pulled back, his eyes remained locked on Callum's, drawing a new, unshakeable boundary between them—one that acknowledged the feelings between them, but kept his heart firmly with Harry.
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