The town was under assault by the weather, it seemed. Not an uncommon occurrence in this seaside town; once a decade or so, a combination of heavy rains, high winds, and high tides battered the place, flooded the streets and yards. It was frustrating, but worth it to be able to live beside the ocean. Though when the storms came, it was hard for some to remember that it was worth it, as they packed up their most important belongings and headed for public shelters.
The high school, intentionally built on the highest ground in town, was crowded, as always during the storms, with people of all ages who had come to escape the rising water. The first had arrived at noon. Now, ten hours later, people still trickled in, either because they'd realized trying to stay in their homes was foolish or because they'd been dragged away from their homes by emergency workers. Each time a storm occurred, someone always refused to leave their home and was seriously injured or killed. The town's safety personnel had become vigilant about ensuring everyone's safety.
But with so many people displaced, the high school was crowded beyond capacity. It was early summer; tourist season had begun, and cottages which often stood empty during the colder months were occupied. Which meant additional people who had had to evacuate. There was barely enough room to breathe in the high school gym. That was why Declan Morrissey was in the office lobby, staring out the window at the driving rain, praying for a swift end to the storm.
Declan despised crowds. He had wanted at first to stay in the cottage he'd rented, but a police officer had come to the door and firmly told him to leave. Now he was stuck here, surrounded by strangers, by noise and chaos that wouldn't end until the waters abated. Whenever that might be.
Fortunately, at this hour, many people were sleeping or at least trying to do so. Crying children had finally begun to breathe deeply, or in some cases snore. Weary parents, exhausted from trying to calm their offspring, had also likely drifted into sleep. Almost no one was outside the gym, with its dubious comforts of cots, blankets, and television; none of those who had left the gym had ventured as far as Declan.
Until now. Hearing footsteps behind him, Declan turned away from the window. In disbelief, he stared at the man walking toward him. "Shane?"
"Declan." Shane came to him and grasped his hand in a firm shake. "I thought it was you. What on earth are you doing here?"
"Cursing the weather gods, at the moment," Declan replied. "I wanted a quiet place to paint for a week or so. Just my luck, the worst storm of the decade decided to come during my week."
"It happens." Shane regarded him silently for a moment. "It's good to see you."
"You too. How have you been? How's Frank?"
"I don't know. We broke up last year. I got the house here; he got the money."
"Sorry to hear that." Had it really been that long since he'd spoken to Shane? It had been far too easy to lose touch with him after Shane had chosen a job relocation over staying with Declan, but Declan had tried. He hadn't wanted communication to stop completely. Evidently he hadn't tried hard enough.
"It's okay," Shane said. "It wasn't unexpected. Things between Frank and me hadn't been good for a long time. Ever, really."
"You seemed to be getting alone well last time I spoke to you."
"Appearances can be deceiving. That's why after five years together, he decided to leave. He knew something I never wanted to admit."
A commotion at the other end of the hallway caught their attention. "I have to go home!" a woman screamed. "My cats! They're going to die!"
Shane rolled his eyes. "Happens every time. After a few hours, people start to go stir crazy. It's a good thing these storms don't happen more often."
The woman at the end of the hall kept yelling, striking out at the police officers who tried to quiet her. "Is it going to be like this all night?" Declan asked.
"No, eventually people will settle down. Do you want to go someplace a little quieter?"
Of course Shane would know how much Declan hated noise and crowds. It had been six years since they'd separated, but that wasn't much time considering how long they'd been together. And how intense their relationship had been. "Yes, quieter would be good," Declan replied.
"Follow me."
Shane led Declan to what appeared to be a custodian's closet and opened the door to reveal a flight of stairs. "Basement access," Shane explained. "There are staircases to the basement in several locations, in case a storm gets bad enough that people need to be away from windows. Hasn't happened since I've been here, but then again, this is only the second storm since I've been here."
"I would have rented someplace inland if I'd known it would be like this," Declan muttered. "So much for peace, quiet, and inspiration."
"The ocean is inspiring. That's why I came here. Come on, there's a room downstairs where we can sit and talk, and not have to hear the cat lady flipping out."
Shane closed the door, and Declan followed him down to a large room furnished with two couches and two armchairs. "There's more furniture in the storage rooms," Shane said. "The powers that be wanted to make sure this was a comfortable place if need be."
"How do you know so much about this building?" Declan asked.
"Frank worked here for a while. And the town gives yearly tours of it so people know where to go and what to expect if there's an evacuation." Shane sat on one of the couches. "So what have you been up to the past couple years?"
Declan sat beside him. "Painting. It's become a living, though I still teach at the university to supplement my income. Those two things take most of my time, but lately stress has been taking a toll, and my doctor advised a vacation. Hence my renting the cottage here."
"So it had nothing to do with hoping to see me?" Shane teased.
"Truthfully, I'd forgotten this was your town. Your letters have a different postmark and return address."
"Yeah, I mail them from work, generally. And you never answer the letters."
"I've answered one or two."
"Yes, I guess you have." Shane hesitated. "Do you remember what I said upstairs?"
"You said several things."
"I said that Frank left me because he knew something I didn't want to admit. Something that affected my relationship with him from the beginning."
"What was that?" Though Declan thought he knew.
"A mistake I made, about six years ago. Something I've wished ever since I hadn't done, but I wouldn't let myself admit I wished I hadn't done it. Until now." Shane turned to look into Declan's eyes. "I shouldn't have let you go, Declan. I loved you so much, and I threw it away for a job I didn't even keep a year. I never stopped thinking about you, wishing we could reconnect."
Stunned, Declan took a moment to respond. "You knew where I was. You could have come back."
"I didn't think you'd want me back. The way things ended was pretty ugly. And I was too proud to tell you I'd been wrong. I wanted to; a few times in those letters, I started to. And then erased it."
"Frank knew how you felt?"
Shane nodded. "I didn't tell him, but he knew. It was obvious whenever I mentioned your name, whenever I called you. He dealt with it for a while; he was the one here with me, after all, and I wasn't running off to cheat with you. But he finally got to the point where he couldn't keep feeling like he was in second place. He gave me an ultimatum: Stop talking to you and about you, or lose him."
"Difficult decision."
"No, it wasn't. I made the wrong choice once. I couldn't do it again."
"You gave up your relationship with Frank for me, and you never told me? Shane, I don't understand. I can see you not telling me how you felt when you were still with Frank, but you said he left you a year ago. Why didn't you tell me then?"
"Like I said, I didn't think you'd want me back. Especially after so much time had gone by. I figured you'd moved on. You never mentioned seeing anyone else, but I thought by then you must have been."
"I haven't seen anyone regularly since you left. I've had dates here and there, but none of them developed into anything more. I didn't want them to."
"Why not?"
"Do you think I could let go of our relationship that easily? I told you how I felt about you before you left, Shane. I told you I loved you, that I wanted us to stay together. But I couldn't just pack everything up and move. I had a life. You had to do what was right for your career; I had to do what was right for mine."
"And it backfired on me, so badly. The new position was nothing like I expected. The work wasn't what I'd been told, and some of my coworkers made being there difficult at best. Prejudice ran high, and while I didn't announce that I'm gay, I didn't make a secret of it either. When I went to my supervisor about the harassment I was getting, he told me that was the price of the lifestyle I'd chosen. I resigned the next day."
"That's horrible. I'm sorry you went through that."
"Yeah. Fortunately, I was able to find a position with another company almost immediately. It doesn't pay as well, but they're pleasant people, and I've been there several years now." Shane rested his hand on Declan's leg. "I couldn't believe it when I saw you in the hall. I've wanted so many times to invite you to visit or go visit you, and I never dared to. But you're here."
"Yes, I'm here."
Declan leaned toward Shane. Their lips came together, and the time they'd been separated seemed to melt away. Declan's arms went around Shane, their bodies fitting against each other as they'd always done. It felt right to hold Shane again. "Why didn't I go with you?" Declan said.
