Page 135 of Try Line Hearts
The day after. Daylight. The first look at what the world had decided to do with what he’d done.
Eli noticed the tension before Lucas said anything. He always did.
“Hey,” he said softly, leaning closer. “You don’t have to do anything today except breathe.”
Lucas nodded. “I know. I just—”
The taxi slowed.
Then stopped.
The driver leaned forward slightly, peering through the windscreen. “Well,” he said quietly. “That’s… a crowd.”
Lucas’s stomach dropped.
He leaned forward, heart already racing, the old instinct kicking in hard and fast.
The street outside the training grounds was packed.
News vans lined the curb, satellite dishes lifted like watchful insects. Cameras, tripods, clusters of people pressed up against temporary barriers. For a split second, Lucas’s mind filled in the blanks the way it always had.
Protest.
Anger.
Signs with words he didn’t want to read.
His breath went shallow.
Then the taxi edged forward.
And color flooded his vision.
Not placards of condemnation—but Pride flags, bright and unapologetic against the grey morning. Hand-painted signs bobbed above heads, imperfect and earnest.
LUCAS + ELI
THANK YOU
WE SEE YOU
PRIDE OF IRELAND
Someone had drawn cartoon versions of them — exaggerated hair, crooked grins, hearts floating overhead. Someone else held a sign that simply saidLOVE IS LOVE, the letters outlined in glitter that caught the light.
Lucas’s throat closed completely and his eyes swam.
“Oh,” Eli breathed.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Lucas’s chest felt too tight, like it couldn’t quite expand around what he was seeing. He’d braced himself so thoroughly for something else that this—this sudden, visible kindness—landed almost painfully.
Eli was already pulling his phone out.
He typed quickly, thumbs moving with practiced ease.
Eli: hey. we’re outside. can you open the gate for us?
