The sheets were tangled around their legs. Alex stirred against Liam's chest, his breath warm on Liam's skin, their limbs still heavy with sleep. It was Saturday. Peaceful. Still.
Liam brushed a curl from Alex's forehead. "You okay?" he murmured.
Alex didn't answer at first. His eyes were open, but his mind wasn't here.
"What's wrong, baby?" Liam asked again, voice lower now. Concern threading through.
Alex blinked slowly, his gaze drifting to the old photo frame on Liam's nightstand—the one with two kids holding popsicles, sitting on a broken swing set. He didn't remember putting it there. He hadn't seen that picture in years.
He sat up slightly, heart skipping. "Where did you get that?"
Liam followed his gaze. "That? You dropped it from your bag yesterday. I thought it was you… and a friend?"
Alex swallowed. The silence stretched. "That's… Jude."
And just like that, the name broke open the memory.
Alex remembered him before anything else.
