Through the Flames

Chapter 1

Through the Flames

AUTHOR'S POV

The hum of my car's engine vibrated beneath me, a soft undercurrent to the restless drumming of my fingers on the leather steering wheel. Outside, the streetlights sliced through the dark, their cold glow spilling across the dashboard. The clock’s hands inched toward 6:30 p.m., and my chest tightened.

I glanced at the grand auditorium ahead, its neon marquee glaring: Book Tour - Daniel Thompson: Author of Foes to Flames.

My first tour. My first crowd.

A bitter laugh escaped me. How had it come to this? Me—a pastor’s son, a boy who’d once flinched at the label “gay,” now seated in this car, preparing to face hundreds of people. Preparing to share the truth I’d spent years running from.

My phone buzzed. A message from Benjamin. Just a single heart emoji. Typical. Yet somehow, that tiny symbol was a lifeline, tethering me to the moment.

“Time to face the fire,” I murmured, straightening my jacket.

The evening air bit at my skin as I stepped out, pulling the door shut behind me. The auditorium loomed, larger than life, and I pushed through the heavy glass doors.

Inside, the noise hit me like a wave. The place was packed—every seat taken, people standing shoulder-to-shoulder along the walls. The low hum of chatter swelled, mingled with shuffling feet and the occasional burst of laughter.

I froze. My heart pounded against my ribcage, and for a second, I wanted to run. But then I saw their faces. The nervous energy. The tension hidden behind polite smiles. The quiet pain in their eyes, so much like my own once was.

This wasn’t just a crowd. These were my people.

“Daniel!” My manager waved me forward, pulling me out of my daze. She nodded toward the front row, where my name sat in neat block letters on a reserved placard.

I took the seat, gripping the arms of the chair as if it might steady me.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. My manager’s voice filled the room, introducing me with a flourish. Applause erupted, and suddenly, I was on my feet, climbing the stage.

The lights blinded me, but I forced myself to stand tall, the microphone cool and solid in my trembling hand.

“Wow,” I said, my voice breaking the heavy silence. I cleared my throat, chuckling awkwardly. “I never expected… this.”

A ripple of laughter swept through the crowd, loosening my chest.

“I’m not going to lie,” I continued, finding my rhythm. “Standing here feels… surreal. For so long, I didn’t think I’d have a voice, let alone an audience willing to listen. Fear kept me silent. Fear of judgment. Fear of rejection.”

The room stilled, their eyes locked on me. I felt the weight of their attention but also their understanding.

“And that fear… it almost destroyed me,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “But I learned something. Fear isn’t the end of the story. It’s just the beginning.”

The crowd leaned in, their collective energy buzzing like static in the air.

“That’s what Foes to Flames is about,” I said, my voice steady now. “It’s not just a book. It’s my life. A pastor’s son, confused and angry, battling shame and the world’s expectations. A boy who fought to survive, to love, to live authentically.”

I paused, the image of Benjamin flashing in my mind. “And yes, it’s also about love. About finding someone who sees you even when you can’t see yourself. Benjamin, my husband, did that for me. But it wasn’t easy. We were enemies before we were lovers.”

A murmur of intrigue rippled through the room.

“Enemies who had to fight through flames—of hatred, confusion, and doubt—to find each other.”

I spotted a few teenagers in the back and smirked. “Fair warning, though: if you’re under 18, you might want to skip a few chapters. Some scenes are… let’s just say, not safe for church.”

The crowd erupted in laughter, and the tension broke like a dam.

“But seriously,” I said, my tone softening. “This isn’t just a love story. It’s a story about finding yourself. About standing tall, even when the world tries to crush you. And if my words can help even one person here tonight, then every painful moment was worth it.”

The room fell silent again, the air heavy with shared emotion.

I glanced at the book in my hands, its weight grounding me. “So, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to take you on a journey. Through my life. Through the flames. And I hope, by the end, you’ll see what I see now: the flames didn’t destroy me. They forged me.”

Applause thundered through the auditorium, shaking the walls.

I opened the first page, my voice steady as I began to read. This was more than a book tour. This was my story. My truth. And tonight, I wasn’t afraid of the flames.