When We Were Us [BxB]

Bonfire

The fire crackled softly, casting flickering orange light across the beach as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving São João bathed in twilight. The air was thick with the familiar scent of burning wood and the salty breeze from the ocean, while laughter echoed from the small group gathered around the bonfire. The night was alive with the sounds of summer, but for Lucas, the warmth of the fire barely reached him.

He sat on the sand, just outside the circle of friends, knees pulled up to his chest, his gaze unfocused on the flames dancing wildly before him. In front of him, Matheus and Isadora sat side by side, their faces glowing in the firelight. Matheus held a beer, his hands gesturing animatedly as he recounted some story that had the group in stitches. Isadora leaned into him, her eyes locked on his, laughing in perfect rhythm with his words. Her long, coiled hair shimmered in the firelight, spilling down her shoulders like a cascade of waves, making her look almost ethereal.

Lucas watched from a distance, his heart heavy. The flame flickered, wild and unpredictable—much like his emotions. He could hear the murmur of conversation around him, the gentle crash of the waves in the background, but all of it felt muffled, drowned out by the scene playing out in front of him. The way Matheus's hand rested casually on Isadora's knee, the way her laughter seemed to linger in the air when she looked at him—it was too much.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be.

He drew in a shaky breath, the cool night air filling his lungs. It was absurd, really. He should be happy for Matheus. Matheus had always been the one who effortlessly drew people in, making connections with ease, while Lucas remained the quiet observer. He'd always been okay with that. But now, watching the ease with which Matheus connected with Isadora, jealousy gnawed at him with an intensity that left him shaken.

Matheus leaned closer to Isadora, his voice dropping to a whisper that made her giggle and nudge him playfully. The sight made Lucas clench his fists, his hands digging into the cool sand, the grains slipping through his fingers. He stared at them, unable to tear his gaze away, his chest tightening with every glance they exchanged.

Around him, the group burst into laughter again, but Lucas barely registered it. He forced a tight smile, pretending to be part of it, but in reality, he felt like a stranger—an outsider looking in. The camaraderie of the bonfire, the warmth of friendship, it all seemed distant now, as though an invisible wall had sprung up between him and everyone else.

For a brief moment, Matheus glanced over at Lucas, their eyes locking. There was something in Matheus's expression—maybe recognition, maybe guilt—but it was fleeting, gone before Lucas could fully grasp it. Matheus turned back to Isadora, and the knot in Lucas's chest twisted tighter, growing heavier with every passing second.

A beer was passed to him, and Lucas took it without thinking. The cold bottle sweated in his hand, droplets running down his fingers as he took a sip, hoping the bitterness would dull the ache inside him. But it did little to quiet the storm brewing in his chest. The fire popped, sending sparks shooting up into the night sky, where they disappeared against the backdrop of stars. It felt like a cruel metaphor for the way his connection with Matheus was slipping away—beautiful, fleeting, gone before he could grasp it.

As the night wore on, people began to trickle away. Some wandered off toward the water, while others headed home, their voices fading into the distance. But Matheus and Isadora stayed, sitting even closer now, their shoulders brushing as they exchanged quiet words. Matheus's eyes sparkled, a mix of alcohol and something else—something Lucas didn't want to name.

A heavy silence settled over the beach as the conversations died down, leaving only the soft crackle of the fire and the distant murmur of the waves. Lucas felt Matheus shift beside him, his presence suddenly closer. He glanced over, finding Matheus's face partially obscured in shadow, but his expression was soft, his eyes searching.

"You okay, man?" Matheus's voice was quieter now, a little slurred from the beer, but laced with concern.

Lucas nodded, though the lie felt bitter in his throat. "Yeah, just tired."

Matheus frowned, leaning in a little closer. "You've been quiet all night. What's going on?"

Lucas opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. How could he explain what he was feeling? The jealousy, the confusion, the hurt—it was all too much, too tangled. He simply shrugged, avoiding Matheus's gaze.

But Matheus wasn't giving up. He scooted closer, their knees brushing together in the sand. "C'mon, talk to me. It's me."

Lucas felt his chest tighten at Matheus's words. It was always like this—Matheus had a way of getting under his skin, of making him feel exposed in ways no one else could. His presence was overwhelming, especially now, with the fire flickering between them and the alcohol loosening Matheus's usual playful edges. Lucas could feel his heart pounding, every beat a reminder of what he couldn't say.

Before he could stop himself, Lucas whispered, "I miss you."

Matheus leaned in, his breath warm against Lucas's ear. "I miss you too, man," he murmured, his words slurred but sincere. "Feels like... we're not how we used to be."

Lucas's heart stuttered, the weight of Matheus's words hitting him hard. Was this Matheus speaking, or was it just the alcohol? He couldn't tell. All he knew was that the flood of emotion was too much to handle. He wanted to tell Matheus everything—that he missed their closeness, missed the way it used to be just them, without anyone else in the way. But the words stuck, lodged deep in his throat, refusing to come out.

Matheus's hand landed on Lucas's shoulder, squeezing gently. "You're my best friend," he said, his voice low and earnest. "Always will be."

Lucas swallowed hard, his chest aching with the weight of everything unsaid. He nodded, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Just as Lucas opened his mouth to speak, Isadora reappeared at Matheus's side, her laughter breaking the moment. She pulled him up with an easy smile, her hand slipping into his. "Come on," she said, her voice playful. "You promised me another drink."

Matheus blinked, momentarily dazed, before flashing Lucas a lazy grin. "Don't go anywhere, okay? We'll be right back."

Lucas watched as they disappeared into the darkness, their figures silhouetted against the dying glow of the fire. The knot in his stomach tightened painfully as their laughter echoed back to him, distant and haunting.

The weight of Matheus's words lingered in the air, hanging heavy between the crackling fire and the starlit sky. Lucas couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted—something deeper than friendship, something that had been hiding between them for far too long.

But now, with Matheus walking away, drawn by Isadora's charm, Lucas was left alone to wonder: Was it real? Did Matheus feel it too, or was it just the alcohol talking, twisting things in ways they weren't meant to be?

As the fire burned down to embers, Lucas stared into the flames, his thoughts swirling like the smoke drifting into the night sky. The question burned in his chest, unanswered and consuming, as the stars blinked down on him, indifferent to the weight of his longing