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The wind brushed against his face, cool and constant, as Mason rested a hand on the railing of the old bridge. From there, the view was simply breathtaking: the horizon was painted in golden and orange hues, the trees swayed with the breeze, and the distant mountains formed a serene wall, the echo of birds resonated through the valleys, and the reflection of the water below was so clear it seemed like another inverted sky.
Mason sighed.
Suddenly, he felt arms wrap around him from behind: warm, familiar. A soft laugh tickled his ear, and he smiled before carefully turning around.
—Wow…—
He murmured, surprised but happy.
—You didn’t forget—
Kieran replied, with that spark in his eyes that always disarmed him.
He released him for a moment, only to hug him tighter again, laughing.
—Oh, come on… I forgot last time because I had too many things to do—
Mason excused himself, flashing a guilty little smile.
—Yeah, sure… I’ll believe you, for now—
Kieran teased, giving him a short kiss on the lips before intertwining their fingers.
—Come on, let’s go home. You must be hungry… and I don’t want the kitchen catching fire again just because you touched a pan.—
—As you say, love—
Mason laughed, raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t an exaggeration. He had a unique talent for culinary disasters; even water seemed to rebel when he boiled it. But Kieran always took it with humor, with that infinite patience only someone deeply in love could have.
They walked together, leaving the bridge behind, that place had always been special: it was where they met, fell in love, and promised eternal love. It was their meeting point when work and routine kept them apart. Sometimes Mason forgot, absorbed by the demands of the day, but Kieran never blamed him. He simply waited, or returned home knowing that sooner or later Mason would cross the bridge.
That afternoon, the silence between them was comfortable, full of meaning. Only the murmur of the wind and the rhythm of their steps accompanied them.
—Do you love me?—
Kieran asked suddenly, in a soft voice, almost afraid of breaking the calm of the moment.
Mason closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t need to think about the answer; he felt it with every heartbeat. He opened his mouth to reply, but when he looked to his side… Kieran was gone.
His hand hung in the air, empty.
He heart skipped a beat. The place where Kieran had been seconds before was now covered only by leaves swirling in the air, as if an invisible breath had taken him away. The silence grew dense, oppressive, the beauty of the landscape transformed into a haunting stillness.
—Kieran?—
He whispered, his voice breaking.
Only the wind responded, carrying his echo through the mountains.
Mason blinked, confused, his chest tight. He took a step back.
A tear fell without him realizing it.
—I’ll always wait for you here…—
He whispered, as if Kieran could still hear him.
The wind blew again, caressing his cheek with a familiar, almost human warmth. And for a moment… Mason swore he felt those arms around him once more.
Rain lashed the cabin windows like liquid knives. Mason almost fell off the couch, his hands trembling over the blanket he had tried to dry before giving up. The darkness seemed thicker than usual, creeping through every crack, stretching the shadows of the furniture until they appeared like lurking figures. Outside, the trees danced twistedly, casting grotesque shapes under the flickering light of the pathway lanterns.
At least he had woken up. What the hell…? Why had he dreamed that? God… what a horror.
His eyes scanned the room: the drawings Kieran had made, the happy photos, the sticky note on one of them. A note Kieran had left: “I’ll be late. Don’t forget what you told me…” Don’t forget what? Not touching the kitchen, perhaps?
Mason sighed, exhausted. Work was relentless, though at least he would have a vacation in a few days. He just had to hold on a little longer.
The phone vibrated on the table, and Mason jumped. The screen showed a familiar number: Kieran.
A chill ran down his spine. It was night… yet he answered.
—Kieran?…—
[Mason?]
The voice was playful, teasing. He could hear it clearly, along with the rain behind the call.
[Where the hell are you?! I’ve been waiting here for three hours… Come quickly or you’ll sleep on the couch if you take longer. It’s already night and dark! I love you… but seriously, come!]
He heart pounded. Kieran’s voice sounded alive, near, warm. But the night, the rain, the fog forming outside… made each word feel foreign, displaced.
[God, it’s raining, you idiot.]
Kieran continued, with that soft laugh behind which he always hid a loving reproach.
[It’s cold, and there will probably be fog… I’m at the bridge, the one you mentioned. The one with the beautiful view of trees and mountains…]
A pause.
[You forgot, didn’t you, dummy?]
Mason swallowed hard, feeling the guilt knot his stomach. It wasn’t the first time he forgot something like that. It wasn’t the first time Kieran waited for him. But this time he had been the one to suggest it; no… actually, he had promised.
—Sorry, love…—
He murmured, pressing the phone to his cheek.
—I’m coming right away. Don’t move, I’ll be quick.—
There was a brief silence, broken only by the rain and the rustling of the trees. Then Kieran’s voice softened, almost invisible:
[Okay. I love you, but don’t take too long… It’s really getting dark.]
—I love you too… and I’m sorry. I promise I won’t forget again.—
He hung up. He put on his boots by the couch and grabbed the umbrella near the door. Kieran’s umbrella was still there. He felt a knot in his stomach; his partner must be getting soaked because of him.
He opened the door. Each step outside seemed to drag an echo of shadows with it; the fog was beginning to swallow the path, deforming the trees until they seemed like giants watching him. Mason took a deep breath, cursing himself for his negligence, thinking about buying him the sweets he liked so much, maybe as an apology.
But he didn’t notice that the road to the bridge seemed to stretch endlessly. The lampposts’ lights flickered with a strange rhythm, and every shadow seemed to take a step ahead of him.
Mason had never liked the dark. Nor fog, much less together.
Yet he didn’t hesitate.
Kieran was waiting.
He had to find him.
Though a cold fear settled in his stomach, he kept moving through the rain, while the fog enveloped him, absorbing the sounds of the world.
He looked at the signs, searching for signals, a face. The stores were closed. It was late, far too late.
Until he stopped.
—Have I already passed here?—
He murmured, certain he had.
Was he going in circles? It couldn’t be… Not now.
He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he felt like he was walking in circles. Things changed every time he moved, the fog was like a living shroud: every tree, every bush, seemed to move with him as he advanced through the empty road, the town he had known all his life looked different. The house lights flickered with an unsettling rhythm. In some windows, shadows moved as if breathing. Every corner, every alley, reflected his distorted memory, as if the entire place were watching his desperation.
—Kieran… damn it…—
He said, fearing that he too might be trapped in something like this.
—Where’s that damn bridge?—
His phone rang again. Missed calls from Marcella and Blake. Messages from his mother, insistent: “Answer.” Also from Julia, Annalise, María, Jasmyn… everyone worried.
But he didn’t care.
He just wanted to arrive.
He just wanted to see him.
A new message from Kieran: “Are you coming?” Accompanied by a photo, the bridge, the lights, the thick fog behind it. Mason typed with trembling fingers: “I’m on my way. Wait for me.”
No response., the connection icon disappeared seconds later.
The wind howled through the trees. Mason swore he heard his name whispered within the fog.
His chest tightened. Every memory, the laughter, the kisses, the loving reproaches, mixed with fear, blurring the lines between real and imaginary.
Turning a corner, he saw it: a bridge shrouded in mist.
The bridge!
He ran toward it. The lampposts’ lights reflected on the dark water, forming elongated figures that swayed like ghosts.
And there he was, Kieran… or so he thought.
A silhouette moved through the fog, drawing contours he recognized too well.
—Kieran!—
He shouted, running toward it.
But every time he got closer, the figure vanished, swallowed by the fog. Moreover… he didn’t remember the bridge being so long.
His heart pounded violently. Guilt consumed him.
The shadows began taking human shapes, stretching with each flicker of the lampposts. Incomprehensible whispers mingled with the rain, and Mason felt each step both distancing and bringing him closer to Kieran at the same time.
The town seemed alive, reacting to his deepest emotions: fear, guilt, love, desperation.
—I haven’t forgotten you!—
Mason shouted.
—I promise! Never again! Please, don’t go! Let’s go home!—
A cold wind hit him. And then, the silhouette appeared in front of him, clear for a moment.
Kieran was there. Smiling, with an intense gaze, his lips curved between reproach and tenderness.
—I knew you’d come—
Said, with that voice that seemed to come from all the times he had loved and forgiven him.
—Don’t make me wait again, Mason…—
But as he reached out his hand, the figure began to dissolve like ink in water. Mason tried to reach it, but only touched air and moisture.
The silhouette disappeared.
And in its place, a silence so deep that Mason felt as if the darkness itself was embracing him.
There was no time to process it: an intense cold ran down his spine. Behind him, for a brief instant, Mason heard a whisper clearer than all the others, close to his ear.
—Mason… you killed me.—
The world seemed to shake. Mason staggered, unable to process what he had just heard.
It was impossible; he refused to accept it.
He had spoken to him on the phone, sent him messages. He… he had been waiting here. Here!
Kieran was alive. He just had to keep looking. And that’s what he did: he stood up, crossed the bridge. He had to be on the other side, he had to… he had to be there!
Mason didn’t remember his town ever having such a freezing air. This part of town seemed familiar; Kieran used to cross the bridge to go to work. There was no other path.
As he walked, he began to hear murmurs among the trees: familiar voices, distorted, as if they emerged from memories he had tried to bury.
—Mason… don’t you remember?—
No, he didn’t.
—You failed him!—
Yes, he knew that too.
—You killed me!—
And he truly felt it.
The umbrella trembled in his hands. His heart pounded violently. Every shadow crossing the path took on Kieran’s shape: his pale face, his intense eyes, that smile that now felt unreachable. Mason began to run, but the fog wrapped around him like a suffocating embrace, the path warped, trees closed in behind him, as if the town breathed with his rhythm, controlling every step he took.
—Kieran…—
He called out with a broken voice, because even though the shadows terrified him and the words hurt, all of them bore the shape of what he had lost.
—I’m here…—
The response came like a distant echo, floating among the shadows:
—You’re always late, Mason…—
Mason spun around, but there was no one. Only the rain, the creak of the earth, and a wind that whispered all his mistakes.
The lamplights flickered, forming wavering shapes. Each flash showed him fragments of his past: moments he had missed, promises he had broken, loves he hadn’t known how to protect.
Then he saw it.
A drawing on the ground, made with chalk… or dried blood. It was a portrait of Kieran, his face frozen in a sad, mocking smile. Around it, twisted, faded words: “I waited… but you didn’t arrive in time.”
Mason fell to his knees. Guilt crushed him like an impossible weight. He cried under the rain, despair ripping the air from his lungs. The town, the fog, the trees, the lamplights… everything seemed to watch him, judge him.
And then, through the mist, a figure emerged: Kieran. Mason ran to him in desperation, hoping this time it was real; but when he touched him, the figure dissolved into shadows, leaving only a cold whisper:
—Mason… don’t you understand yet?—
The world shook.
—Remember—
The voice sounded like a distant whisper.
And then he understood, he accepted, what he had been denying in his broken mind. Kieran was dead. Not by accident, not by illness… but because of him.
In accepting it, the harrowing memories pierced his mind like a knife: Kieran on the bridge, his confused gaze, the hug he hadn’t expected, the smile that never fully formed. Mason once again felt the weight of his partner’s body falling, the warmth of blood soaking his hands, Kieran’s eyes looking at him without hatred, without fear… only love.
—I’m sorry…—
Kieran had said, barely a whisper. As if he himself were the guilty one.
But Mason knew the truth. He had done it out of selfishness. Out of fear, because he was the only witness who knew the truth. He didn’t call an ambulance, didn’t seek help, he just stayed there, watching him bleed.
Afterwards… he had pretended.
He used Kieran’s phone to send himself a message, a simple one: “I’m on the bridge. Come for me.” Then, he returned home, waited a few hours, and deceived himself as he read it. He played the victim in his own story.
And when he “found him,” it was already too late.
The reality was cruel: Kieran had seen his true face, but he loved him so much that he stayed silent. He never exposed him.
And yet, Mason didn’t forgive him; he ended it.
Love hadn’t been enough to save him.
The town began to vanish. The fog slowly dissipated, and Mason was left alone, soaked, holding Kieran’s portrait. Every memory of his beloved became a dark reflection of his guilt.
This was his hell.
His punishment.
And then he knew. There was no turning back, no bringing him back.
All that remained was to face the truth, to walk among the shadows of his own sin, and accept that the love he felt had also destroyed what he loved most.
—So…?—
Kieran’s voice returned, soft, near, like a caress in the midst of the storm. Mason turned again.
And there he was once more, just like that day… the same, wearing the same clothes. Just like that fateful day.
This time, Mason didn’t run. He dropped the umbrella and the portrait, fell to his knees, and hugged him around the waist in desperation. This time, Kieran didn’t disappear: he was tangible. No matter if it was a curse. He needed him.
—Don’t go… I’m sorry, please…—
He whispered, voice broken.
—I love you, I love you so much… don’t leave me.—
He cried like a child. Hands that had once been warm, now cold, stroked his head with a tenderness that transcended death.
If he had to suffer this hell over and over, if he had to relive his sin just to see him once more, he would accept it. He would pay the price.
—I love you too—
Whispered Kieran.
Mason laughed weakly, through tears. It was the same phrase he had heard before the end. Before the pain.
—Haha… I love you more—
He replied, letting the fog envelop them completely.
And silence fell over the town again, eternal and patient, waiting for Mason to forget once more.
Because here love never dies…
It only transforms into punishment.
Kieran walked slowly along the bridge. The few lamplights lit his way, and the moon offered a clear view of the landscape. He had to cross that bridge to get home; there was no other path. Although it brought back good memories, it also made him think of what had been hidden. Mason had warned him never to open the basement, without explaining why. He had believed it was just a place where his partner kept important things.
But that day something smelled wrong. He couldn’t resist opening the door, at least to go down and clean. What he saw disturbed him, but he closed the door quickly and tried to pretend he hadn’t seen anything. He didn’t know if his partner had arrived first or if he had closed it in time, but Mason looked at him, and then smiled. Did that mean he hadn’t seen anything? Maybe…
He thought about telling someone, perhaps the authorities or Mason’s mother, but he couldn’t. He kept it to himself.
Why? The answer was obvious: love.
Kieran let out a sigh. He had left work late, but as he walked, he saw Mason. There he was, leaning on the bridge railing, gazing beyond, toward the horizon.
Had he come for him? The note he had left among some frames was old. Had Mason confused it with a recent one? His face filled with surprise and confusion. Mason turned to look at him, smiled, and quickly approached, hugging him.
Kieran wasn’t foolish, or at least he didn’t think so, something was wrong.
—Wow—
He murmured, trying to sound cheerful.
—You didn’t forget—
And this time, it wasn’t planned.
Silence.
—Mason—
Kieran called, hearing only a murmur.
—Do you love me?—
He asked, his voice trembling, wanting to hear what his heart desired, even if only one last time.
He pretended not to notice what Mason held behind him, something lethal. Love makes you stupid; Cella had been right.
—I love you. I love you so much—
Said Mason.
And yet, it wasn’t enough.
His smile never fully formed. Everything turned red and painful. Kieran fell to the ground, a tragic, silent end.
From above, looking at Mason, he couldn’t look at him with hatred, nor fear… only love.
—I’m sorry…—
He whispered, not knowing exactly why. He only wanted to apologize as darkness claimed him.
Mason didn’t respond. He simply cleaned the weapon, then picked up the phone that had fallen, sent a message, all carefully planned, and returned it to its place, leaving no traces.
Kieran could still see the moon as Mason walked away.
—I love you too—
He whispered one last time, wishing Mason could hear him. But he didn’t. Darkness took him.