Mine First (MLM)

Chapter Twelve ~ Safe enough to stay

The room was silent but full — the kind of silence that hummed with everything left unsaid but deeply felt.
Kieran lay wrapped in Jace's arms, breath shallow, pulse still fluttering beneath his skin like wings that didn't quite know where to land. His fingers clutched the front of Jace's shirt, the only thing anchoring him to the moment.
Jace didn't move.
He held Kieran like he was sacred.
And when he finally spoke, it was soft and sure — the voice of someone who knew how to navigate the places where words didn't always reach.
"Color check, baby."
Kieran blinked slowly, dazed. "What?"
Jace pulled back just enough to look into his face — not demanding, not impatient.
"Your color. Where are you at right now?"
Kieran blinked again, confused. "What do you mean? Like... emotionally?"
Jace smiled gently. "Sort of. It's a way to tell me how you're doing, especially after we've played or been vulnerable like that. It's part of aftercare."
"Oh."
"We use traffic light colors," Jace explained, his fingers brushing through Kieran's sweat-damp hair. "Green means you're good — safe, present, maybe just tired. Yellow means something's off. Maybe you feel fuzzy, overwhelmed, or unsure. Red means you're not okay and you need something to stop or change."
Kieran was quiet for a moment.
"Is this... something I'm supposed to know already?"
"No," Jace said immediately. "This is something I teach you. You don't have to know anything to be worth care."
Kieran looked at him. Really looked.
And then he whispered, "I think I'm yellow."
"Thank you for telling me," Jace said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Do you feel safe?"
"Yes."
"Are you hurting anywhere? Body, mind, heart?"
Kieran's lips twitched faintly. "Just sore. In the good way."
"Then I've got you," Jace said, easing him gently into the pillows. "Let me take care of you."

Jace cleaned him slowly — with warm water, soft cloths, and hands that never strayed from comfort. He murmured little things the whole time — nothing overwhelming, just quiet threads of affection.
"You did so well."
"I'm proud of you."
"You're safe now. You're home."
Kieran's eyes fluttered shut at that last one.
Home.
No one had said that word to him like that before. Not as a place.
As a feeling.
As a fact.

Jace tucked him in once he was clean and dry. Made sure the blankets weren't too heavy. Brought him water and a protein bar he insisted Kieran eat half of, even through Kieran's grumbling. He stroked his hair and kissed his temple and held him when his body started to tremble again — not from fear, but from the shock of not having to hold it all alone anymore.
When Kieran finally spoke again, his voice was rough and small.
"Thank you."
Jace kissed the top of his head. "Always."

The Next Morning
Sunlight spilled in through the cracked curtain. Soft, warm, gold.
Jace was already up — somewhere in the kitchen, based on the smell of toast and something sweet. Kieran blinked against the pillow, hair wild, blanket tangled around his legs.
And he felt...
Light.
Not empty.
Clear.
He stretched, winced slightly at the ache in his thighs, then padded out into the kitchen barefoot, Jace's hoodie thrown over his shoulders like a shield.
Jace turned as he entered, coffee mug in hand, eyes immediately scanning him from head to toe.
"You're walking," Jace teased. "That's promising."
Kieran narrowed his eyes. "Barely."
"Still impressive."
Kieran grumbled and stole a slice of toast.
"Color check?" Jace asked, a little quieter.
Kieran looked up, blinked, then gave a small smile. "Green."
Jace beamed. "Good boy."
Kieran choked on the toast.
"Excuse me?"
Jace took a sip of coffee, far too pleased with himself.
Kieran flushed and pointed at him with the stolen toast. "You do not get to smirk like that."
"But I do. Because it's true. And because you love it."
Kieran groaned dramatically and leaned against the counter. "You're so smug when I'm soft."
"You're adorable when you're soft."
"You're unbearable."
"You're glowing."
Kieran tried to glare — but then he laughed. Fully laughed. The kind that pushed out of his chest before he could stop it.
Jace's smile softened. "There you are."
Kieran blinked. "Huh?"
"That laugh," Jace said. "I haven't heard that one yet."
"Was it bad?"
"It was perfect."

The rest of the morning was a warm blur.
They ate on the couch, sharing bites of fruit and teasing each other over coffee orders and the worst book covers they'd ever seen. Kieran put his legs in Jace's lap and refused to move them, and Jace retaliated by kissing his ankle until Kieran threatened to die on the spot.
When they got dressed to head out — a lazy museum visit and a bookstore stop on the list — Jace pulled Kieran in close at the door.
"I'm proud of you," he said again, quiet and close.
Kieran looked up at him. "For what?"
"For saying yes. For letting go. For letting me in."
Kieran's expression softened.
"I didn't just let you in," he said. "I'm staying in."
Jace smiled. "Good."
And they stepped out into the world together.
Closer.
Stronger.
No distance left.