下一章 上一章 目录 设置
15、015 英文版 ...
-
The next morning felt softer than most — not because of the light, or the waves, but because the calendar had turned to a date that made Shane’s chest feel light.
He woke before Tahir, curled against his chest, and just lay there for a minute, memorizing the feeling. The steady thud of Tahir’s heart, the warm weight of his arm over his waist, the faint, even breath against his hair.
Today was his birthday.
Not that he’d ever cared much for birthdays before.
As a kid, they’d been small, quiet, easily forgotten.
As a teenager, they’d just reminded him how alone he felt.
But now…
Now he had Tahir.
Shane lifted his head slightly, just enough to look at Tahir’s sleeping face. Even in sleep, there was a softness around his eyes that only appeared when he was completely at ease.
Shane’s finger traced the faint, silvery mark on Tahir’s neck — the one he’d given him, matching his own. A claim. A promise. A forever.
“…Staring again?” Tahir mumbled, eyes still closed, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.
Shane jumped slightly, then huffed, resting his head back down.
“You always wake up when I look at you,” he complained.
“Because you’re loud,” Tahir said, opening one eye, amused. “Even when you’re quiet.”
Shane rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
“Whatever,” he mumbled.
Tahir’s smile softened. He shifted, rolling onto his side, facing Shane, one hand coming up to brush gently over Shane’s cheek.
“...Happy birthday,” he whispered, quiet and warm and sincere.
Shane’s breath caught. He’d half-hoped Tahir had forgotten, just for a second — not because he wanted to miss it, but because the sweetness of being remembered felt almost too much.
“...Thanks,” he whispered.
They didn’t rush out of bed.
They didn’t turn on loud music or make a big fuss.
They just lay there, wrapped in each other, slow kisses and soft murmurs and quiet, gentle touches that felt more precious than any party could ever be.
“...What do you want to do today?” Tahir asked, brushing a strand of hair from Shane’s forehead.
Shane thought for a second.
No big plans.
No crowds.
No noise.
“...Just this,” he said. “With you. All day.”
Tahir’s smile widened, soft and endless.
“Perfect,” he said.
The kitchen was slightly chaotic, in the warmest way.
Shane was leaning against the counter, laughing, as Tahir stared at a pan of slightly-burnt pancakes with a faintly confused expression.
“I told you the pan was too hot,” Shane teased.
“I was following the instructions,” Tahir said, defenseless but amused. “They did not mention fire.”
Shane shook his head, stepping closer, taking the spatula from his hand.
“Let me,” he said.
Tahir let him, but didn’t step far. He stood right behind Shane, arms wrapped loosely around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder, watching him fix the mess with quiet fondness.
“...You’re good at everything,” Tahir murmured.
“Not everything,” Shane said. “I just know how not to burn pancakes.”
“You’re good at being mine,” Tahir said, simply.
Shane’s cheeks heated. He flipped a pancake, trying to look focused, but his smile gave him away.
“...Cheesy,” he mumbled.
“Yours,” Tahir returned.
They ate breakfast at the small dining table, sunlight streaming through the window, pancakes and fruit and warm coffee between them. No candles. No cake. No fanfare.
Just quiet.
Just them.
Just home.
Shane’s mother texted him a happy birthday and a photo of the cake she’d baked for later — small, simple, almond-flavored, his favorite. He smiled down at his phone, his chest full.
He had two families now.
The one he was born into.
The one he was mated to.
And both loved him fiercely.
After breakfast, Tahir disappeared into the bedroom for a minute, returning with something small and dark blue clutched in his hand.
He sat down beside Shane on the sofa, hesitant for the first time in a long while.
Shane tilted his head, curious.
“What’s that?”
“...A gift,” Tahir said, quiet. “For you.”
He held out his hand.
In it lay a thin, simple silver chain.
Attached to it was a small, smooth piece of ocean glass — the same kind as the ring he’d proposed with, polished soft and blue-green by the waves.
Shane’s breath caught.
“...Tahir,” he whispered.
“I made it,” Tahir said, a little nervous. “From the island. From the water that brought us together. So you can carry a piece of home with you… even when I’m not right there.”
Shane’s eyes stung. He held out his hand, and Tahir placed the chain gently in his palm.
“Can I…?” Tahir asked.
Shane nodded, turning slightly, lifting his hair. Tahir’s fingers were gentle, careful, as he fastened the chain around Shane’s neck. The ocean glass rested lightly against his chest, just above his heart.
When Shane turned back, his eyes were bright.
“I love it,” he whispered. “I love you.”
Tahir’s shoulders relaxed, relieved and happy. He leaned in, kissing him softly, slowly, sweetly.
“Happy birthday, my love,” he whispered.
They spent the rest of the day exactly how Shane wanted — quiet.
They read on the sofa.
They held hands on a walk.
They stopped for cold drinks at a small corner shop.
They didn’t rush.
They didn’t hurry.
They just were.
By evening, they were back at the shore, sitting on the sand, watching the sunset paint the sky pink and orange. Shane leaned against Tahir’s chest, the ocean glass pendant cool against his skin, feeling lighter and happier than he could ever remember feeling.
“...I never thought I’d have this,” Shane said quietly.
“What?” Tahir asked, brushing his hair gently.
“...This,” Shane repeated, waving a hand vaguely at the ocean, at the sky, at them. “Love. Peace. Home. I thought I’d be alone forever.”
Tahir’s arms tightened.
“You’ll never be alone again,” he said, firm and absolute. “Not in this life. Not in any life. I’ll find you. Every time.”
Shane smiled, wet and soft and happy. He tilted his head up, kissing Tahir slowly, as the sun sank below the waves.
“...Best birthday ever,” he whispered.
Tahir smiled against his lips.
“Every birthday with you will be,” he said.
They returned to Shane’s family home for a small, quiet dinner that evening — just his parents, them, a small cake, and warm, easy conversation. His mother fussed over Shane, his father clapped him on the back, and Tahir sat quietly beside him the entire time, hand on his thigh, steady and present.
When they left, Shane’s mother pressed a small box of leftover cake into his hands.
“For tomorrow,” she said, smiling. “Or tonight. No judgment.”
Shane laughed, shaking his head.
Back home, they changed into soft clothes, curled up on the sofa, and shared the cake straight from the box, no plates, no forks, just their fingers and quiet laughter.
“...This is perfect,” Shane mumbled, mouth full.
Tahir wiped a smudge of frosting from his cheek with his thumb, then licked it off his own finger, slow and deliberate.
“You’re perfect,” he said.
Shane’s cheeks heated. He leaned in, kissing Tahir softly, tasting sugar and warmth and love.
When they pulled away, Shane rested his forehead against Tahir’s, eyes closed.
“...I love you,” he whispered.
“Forever,” Tahir whispered back.
