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Please vote and comment so this story reaches a wider audience ☺️ I’ll be writing a new poly story soon too. It’s a similar concept to one that was deleted from my old account but i’m gonna make it a little different and more mature—Stay tuned!
An hour later, the house had turned into a blur of pulsing music and laughter that seemed to melt into one long, dizzying sound. Luke had lost count of how many drinks he’d had now. He’s had something with vodka, maybe rum, definitely something blue at one point… but none of it mattered. All that mattered was the fact that he had been keeping an eye on a certain flawless faced boy all night from his spot by the sliding doors, pretending not to while actually doing a terrible job of it. Young moved through the crowd easily, all quiet smiles and polite nods, the same way he always did, like he didn’t even realise people naturally gravitated toward him. Luke had spent the last thirty minutes mustering the courage to get up and do something about it. The alcohol helped, or at least that’s what he told himself.
When he finally saw Young stand up from one of the couches and make his way toward the staircase, Luke’s heart leapt into his throat. This was it. This was his moment. He pushed himself up, stumbling slightly but catching his balance on the edge of the counter. He tried to look casual, but casual didn’t come easy when the room was spinning and your pulse was pounding like a drumbeat in your ears.
“Okay,” he muttered under his breath as he made his way toward the stairs. “You can do this. Just… talk. Like a normal person. Easy.”
Halfway up, he spotted two familiar faces at the top—Eli and Nate, both flushed and looking entirely too guilty. Nate was leaning against the wall, hair a mess, and Eli was pretending to check his phone like it could hide the evidence of what they’d clearly been doing.
Luke squinted at them, a slow, teasing grin spreading across his face. “You two,” he slurred, pointing an accusing finger. “You think you’re being slick, but nobody believes you’re just friends.”
Eli’s face turned a deep shade of red as his eyes darted around. “Luke, what the hell? Shush.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Luke interrupted, stumbling past them, waving a lazy hand. “Go back to your… whatever that was. I saw nothing. Heard nothing. You’re welcome.”
“Are you drunk?” Eli asked sharply.
Luke couldn’t answer without hiccuping.
“Luke, where are you going?” Nate called, but Luke ignored him too. He was on a mission.
The upstairs hallway was dim, lit by a single flickering bulb. He could hear muffled music from below and the faint sound of someone laughing in one of the bedrooms. He wasn’t sure which door Young had gone into, so he started opening a few at random.
The first one revealed a couple making out on the bed. “Sorry,” Luke mumbled, shutting it quickly.
The second was a coat closet.
The third was empty, except for a bunch of boxes, which didn’t seem helpful.
By the fourth door, Luke was beginning to think he’d lost him, but then he heard the faint rush of water from a sink just down the hall. Relief bloomed in his chest. He’d found him. He leaned against the wall outside the door, trying to steady himself, his heart hammering fast enough that it made him feel lightheaded.
When the door finally opened, Young stepped out, drying his hands on a paper towel. He looked up and froze. “Jesus, Luke,” he said, startled. His brows knitted together in confusion. “What are you doing?”
Luke blinked up at him, eyes glassy, his cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and the heat in the narrow hallway. He looked caught between a smile and a frown, like even his own face couldn’t decide what it was doing. “Hi,” Luke said softly, voice slurred just enough to betray him.
Young stared at him for a long second, his expression shifting from confusion to concern. “You’re drunk,” he said finally.
Luke laughed weakly, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. “Maybe a little.”
Young sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t be wandering around up here like this. What are you even doing?”
Luke shrugged, trying for casual and failing miserably. “Following you.”
That made Young blink, his hand pausing midair. “Following me?”
Luke nodded slowly, his gaze unfocused but determined. “Wanted to talk. Just… talk.”
Young glanced down the hallway, then back at Luke. The younger boy’s eyes were wide and glassy, his breathing uneven, and something about the way he was standing (the mix of confidence and complete vulnerability) made Young’s stomach twist. “Luke,” he said carefully, “you should probably sit before you fall down.”
Luke laughed again, leaning his head back against the wall, his smile wobbly. “Maybe I’ll do that. Right after you listen.”
Young’s shoulders tensed. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear what Luke had to say. Not really. Not like this. Not when Luke’s words were drenched in alcohol and courage that wasn’t real. Still, he didn’t walk away. He just kept on looking at the boy.
“Please? Can we talk?” Luke said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to something quieter, more serious. “I’ve been trying to corner you all night.”
Young’s brow creased. “What? Why?”
Luke shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Because.”
“Because…?”
“Because,” Luke repeated firmly.
Young hesitated, clearly torn between annoyance and concern. The hallway light flickered above them, casting soft shadows on his face. “You’re drunk,” he said again, quieter this time. “Maybe this isn’t the best time.”
“Probably not,” Luke admitted. “But if I don’t say it now, I never will.”
“But…Gabe’s downstairs.”
“So?” Luke asked, suddenly feeling childish. “What? Are you scared of him or something?”
“No, no. Of course not. I just—”
“Don’t wanna be seen with me?” Luke asked sharply.
Young let out a small laugh. “Jesus, you’re hammered.”
Luke flushed red and looked down, willing himself to calm the hell down. “Sorry, I just…I really wanna talk. Please? It won’t take long.”
Young looked at him for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, he stepped aside and nodded toward an empty room across the hall. “Fine. Let’s at least go somewhere quieter.”
Luke followed him, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. His hands trembled slightly as he closed the door behind them. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of string lights from the wall. It smelled faintly of perfume. Luke grimaced when he realised this was probably Ambers bedroom. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw a few pictures of her and her bratz-coded friends plastered on the wall besides a mirror.
Young leaned against the desk, arms folded, watching Luke expectantly. “So,” he said, voice steady. “What did you need to say?”
Luke’s mouth went dry. All the words he’d rehearsed in his head scattered like leaves in the wind. For a long moment, he just stared at Young—at the slope of his shoulders, the tired patience in his eyes, the faint scar near his eyebrow that Luke had never noticed till now. Maybe it was new. Oh, God. Maybe it happened at college. You know, the place where he has A FUCKING BOYFRIEND.
And before he could stop himself, he whispered, “what the fuck am I doing?”
Young frowned. “Luke?”
“I’m sorry,” Luke rushed out. Swallowing thickly. “I’m being so stupid right now.”
Young’s frowned deepened and he pushed himself away from the desk. “What are you talking about? You okay? What’s wrong?”
Luke’s head spun so violently he had to grab the wall to steady himself. The room tilted (or maybe he tilted) and the twinkle lights on Amber’s wall blurred into dizzy streaks of colour. His pulse hammered in his throat. His palms were slick with sweat.
What the hell was he doing here? What had he thought would happen? That he’d corner Young in some random girl’s room, slur out his confused feelings that he didn’t even understand, and somehow it would all make sense? That Young would look at him and finally understand everything Luke hadn’t said?
Stupid. So, so stupid.
He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, trying to stop the spinning, but it didn’t help. His stomach twisted sharply. The alcohol he’d swallowed earlier churned like poison.
Oh, God. Oh no. No, no, no—
“Luke?” Young’s voice broke through the haze, tight with concern. “You’re white as a sheet. Are you—”
Before Young could finish, Luke lurched forward, stumbling past him and barely managing to yank the little pink trash bin from beside the desk. He barely made it before he threw up.
The sound was awful. It was gross, wet and utterly humiliating. His entire body shook with it. The room smelled like sick and vodka now, and his eyes watered so much he could barely see. Somewhere in the background, he heard Young swear softly under his breath, then move closer. A warm hand pressed between his shoulder blades, rubbing slow, careful circles in a soothing motion.
“Hey,” Young murmured, crouching beside him. “It’s okay. Just breathe, alright? You’re fine. It’s better out than in, that’s for sure.”
Luke wanted to tell him to stop. To not be nice. Because the kindness just made everything worse. It made him feel smaller, younger, and more pathetic. He was supposed to be confident and bold right now, maybe even a little flirty. Not… this. Not a mess on Amber’s floral rug.
“God,” Luke groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m such an idiot.”
“No.” Young’s tone softened. “You’re not an idiot. You just had too much to drink.”
“I’m literally throwing up in Amber’s bin,” Luke muttered miserably. “I can’t stoop any lower.”
Young huffed out a small laugh despite himself. “Yeah, okay, that part’s not great.”
Luke turned his head just enough to glare at him, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. “You’re laughing at me.”
“Only a little,” Young admitted, grinning now. “It’s either that or feel sorry for you. Which one would you rather have?”
For a second, Luke just stared at him. And then, against his own will, a weak laugh escaped him too. A breathy, tired, ridiculous laugh.
Young’s smile widened. “See? Better already.”
Luke leaned his head back against the side of the desk, eyes closing for a moment. The world still tilted, but at least the nausea had passed. “If you ever tell anyone about this, i’ll never forgive you,” he mumbled weakly.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Young said, holding up a hand like he was taking an oath.
Luke blinked up at him. “Thanks.”
“Shall we see if Amber’s got any spare clothes for you to wear?” Young asked, already walking to the girls closet.
Luke pulled a face. “I’d rather die.”
“Oh come on, don’t be so dramatic,” Young replied, swinging open the doors and rummaging around inside. “It’s either wear something that belongs to Amber or smell like sick.”
“It’s not who it belongs to that’s the problem,” Luke grumbled under his breath.
But Young heard him. He didn’t falter though. “Here,” he said, pulling out a black shirt and throwing it towards Luke who was still sat on the floor besides the desk. “Wear this. It’s genderless.”
Luke stared at the shirt where it had landed on the carpet in front of him—black, soft-looking, faintly smelling of vanilla body spray. His stomach twisted again, not from nausea this time but something heavier. The word genderless echoed in his head like Young had meant more than just a joke.
He hesitated, fingers hovering over the fabric. “I’m fine,” he muttered weakly, even though he knew he wasn’t. The sour smell clung to him, thick and humiliating.
Young turned back to him with that patient look again, the one Luke hated because it made him feel seen. “Luke, stop being so stubborn. Just put it on. It’s clean. Promise I won’t look.”
There was no arguing with that tone. So Luke sighed, grabbed the shirt, and mumbled, “Fine.”
Young nodded once, turned his back, and faced the mirror on the wall. He crossed his arms, pretending to study the string lights while Luke peeled off his ruined shirt. The air was cool against his skin, and he tugged the black one on as fast as he could, careful not to twist the binder beneath it. It was a little tight, but it smelled better than he did.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “You can look now.”
Young turned around. For a second, he just took him in. He noticed the messy hair, the shirt that hung to his chest, the pink still high on Luke’s cheeks. Then he smiled faintly. “Told you it’d work.”
Luke rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. He moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down carefully, his legs feeling heavier than before. Young joined him a moment later, leaving just enough space between them to be respectful.
“Here. Take this,” Young said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a piece of gum.
“Oh thank god,” Luke breathed out, snatching the gum pathetically. He chewed it and instantly felt the relief of freshness.
The noise from downstairs felt distant. In this little pocket of quiet, everything felt fragile.
Luke clasped his hands together, staring down at them. His heart was still racing, not from the alcohol this time but from the weight of everything sitting in his chest. The things he’d been holding back for months; the confusion, the ache, the longing. He could feel all the words pressing against his lips, begging to spill out.
Young then leaned over playfully and nudged his shoulder against Luke’s. “You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind,” he said, voice calm.
Luke swallowed. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice small. “I kinda do.” He took a slow breath, trying to find the right words. He didn’t want to mess this up.
Young turned to face him fully then, eyes steady, concern flickering in them like candlelight. “What’s going on?”
Luke’s throat tightened. He’d been waiting for this and now that it was here, all he could think was how close Young was, how warm his voice sounded, and how impossible it felt to keep pretending everything was fine.
“Why’d you get a boyfriend so fast?”
The question slipped out before Luke could stop it. It was too blunt, too raw, and way too personal. He immediately wanted to grab the words and shove them back down his throat.
Young blinked, stunned. The air seemed to thicken between them. “What?”
Luke’s mouth went dry, but there was no turning back now. “I just mean…” he fumbled, staring hard at his hands. “You didn’t waste any time, that’s all. Like… you went off to college and boom. You’re with someone else. I just…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I was confused.”
Young didn’t respond right away. Luke could feel him looking, could feel the weight of it. He risked a glance up. The older boy was sitting a little straighter, his expression unreadable. He rubbed the back of his neck before answering.
“It wasn’t… straight away. I met him after a few weeks. I know that sounds dumb but a week feels like a month when you’re away at college. It felt like a long time. And it just kind of… happened.”
“Happened,” Luke echoed, trying not to sound bitter, but failing miserably.
Young sighed, his eyes flickering down to the floor. “Yeah. He was just… easy to be around, you know? He didn’t know me as the kid who hung around Gabe all the time, or the guy who lived down the street. He knew the new me. The college me. The me that I don’t have to hide from my parents. I didn’t have to explain anything to him or fit into any version of myself that people already decided I was.”
Luke felt that like a punch to the gut. Because wasn’t that exactly how he had seen Young? Especially after Young had confessed he felt something. He started to see Young as something real. Not just Gabe’s best friend. Not just the golden boy who was good at lacrosse. He started to see Young as Young.
“Oh,” Luke managed softly.
Young nodded, like that single word said enough. “And, I don’t know… I guess I wanted to know what it was like to just be normal. To date someone without feeling like I was doing something wrong all the time. At college, i’m out. I’m happy. I don’t need to hide like i’d have to hide here. My parents still aren’t okay with it.”
The silence that followed made Luke’s stomach twist. He hated that he understood. He hated how reasonable it all sounded. He hated that Young hadn’t even thought about him in that equation.
“So,” Luke said after a while, forcing a shrug that didn’t feel natural, “you like him?”
Young looked at him and hesitated. Luke hated that he noticed the hesitation and hated the way it made him feel temporary hope. But that hope was crushed when Young continued to speak. “Yeah,” he said finally. Luke held his breath. “Yeah. I do like him. He’s nice.”
“But do you love him?” Luke rushed out.
Young’s cheeks turned slightly pink, and Luke tried not to think about the fact that he had never seen Young blush before. “Love? It’s way too early for love.”
“But you think it could happen?”
“Who the hell knows?” Young forced out a laugh. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll see how it goes.”
Luke nodded slowly, his throat tight. He tried to smile, but it felt brittle. “Right. Good. Thats… good,” he said, even though every part of him was screaming no, it’s not good and I WANNA SCREAM. “I think I need more alcohol.”
“I think you’ve had enough,” Young said sternly.
“You’re no fun,” Luke mumbled.
“And you’re gonna puke again.”
“At least it was in a bin this time.”
“This time?”
“The last time I puked up all over somebody.”
“What?!” Young burst out laughing. “How?!”
“Well, he was a dick,” Luke grumbled, recalling the last time he had been at a party and had thrown up all over an asshole senior. “He was getting pretty handsy and at first I was all into it, but then he made this stupid comment and I—”
“What?” Young butt in.
“A transphobic comment,” Luke corrected.
“No. I meant the other thing,” Young said with a frown on his face. “You were getting handsy with someone?”
Luke flushed and shook his head. “I mean, kinda. Not really. I thought he was nice, ya know? We were just talking. But the more I drank, the more I let myself become…loose.”
“Loose?” Young asked sharply.
“Not that kind of loose!” Luke snapped. “Just more approachable and friendly, ya know? Then we kinda,..i don’t know. Nothing even happened,” Luke finished off quickly, unsure of why he had to point that out.
Young was still frowning.
Luke rolled his eyes. “Anyway, he made a dumb comment and I got upset and ended up throwing up all over him.”
“Oh,” Young mumbled. “What was the comment?”
Luke gnawed on his lip, looking down at the carpet. He remembered how much it had hurt when he thought he finally found somebody who may have been interested in him, only for that douchebag to become a perverted asshole. “He just wanted to know what goods the trans kid was hiding,” he eventually said, voice small and tight.
Young was speechless.
Luke let out a sigh. “I know right.”
“I’m sorry,” Youngjae said softly.
Luke scoffed. “Don’t be. He’s not the first, and he certainly won’t be the last.”
“Who was the first?” Young asked hesitantly.
Luke swallowed thickly and glanced at him, then looked down again. “You.”
“Me?” Young asked in an offended tone. He heaved a large sigh and threw his head into his hands momentarily and then risked a peek at Luke. “Was it that drunken comment that I made?”
Luke chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded awkwardly. “I mean, I knew you didn’t mean it in a horrible way. I mean, I hope you didn’t.”
“I didn’t,” Young rushed to say.
“But it still hurt,” Luke mumbled. Then he sighed deeply and dramatically and leaned back against his hands on the bed. “Although, maybe I should have taken it as a compliment rather than an insult. You just automatically assumed that I sprouted a dick. That should have made me feel better. Do I give off big dick energy?”
Young rolled his eyes but his lips twitched into a small smile. “The biggest,” he mumbled.
Luke nudged him playfully. “Thanks.”
“I’m still so embarrassed about what I said that night,” Young mumbled with a small sigh. “I can’t believe I even said that.”
“Neither can I now that I know you’re a raging pansexual,” Luke teased.
Young grinned. “Exactly. I should have been an ally.”
“I kinda wish you felt comfortable enough to come to the GSA whilst you were still in high school,” Luke said in a small voice. “I think you would have liked it.”
“I think I would have liked it too,” Young nodded. “I think I was just scared.”
“Of coming out?”
“Of everything,” Young said. “Of people finally knowing I wasn’t straight. Of word getting back to my parents. Of being around the person I was hopelessly crushing on.”
Luke’s smile faded slowly.
Young realised his mistake and quickly backtracked, fumbling over his words. “I mean, not hopelessly. That would have been weird. Just a little crush. Nothing too crazy.”
Luke remained silent. He looked away from Young. He couldn’t believe Young had just said that, so casually and so god damn openly.
Young swallowed. “Did I just make things awkward?”
“Why did you never tell me?” Luke found himself asking, completely ignoring Young’s question.
Young blinked across at him and suddenly seemed to fold in on himself. You wouldn’t think he was a big 6’2 bulked up jock with the way his puppy dog eyes were shining towards Luke right now. “You know why.”
“I don’t,” Luke mumbled. “I could have kept it a secret. I wouldn’t have told Gabe if you didn’t want me to. I would have just…”
“Just what?” Young asked gently. “Said you liked me back when you clearly hated my guts?”
“I didn’t hate you,” Luke said, although even he didn’t believe his words when he said that.
Young threw him a deadpanned look. “You could barely stand talking to me for more than 5 minutes, and every time we were in each others vicinity, we’d end up arguing and one of us stormed away.”
Luke sheepishly looked away. “I was such a dick.”
“Pretty much,” Young said, though his words were laced with amusement. “I wasn’t about to spring something on you that would make you hate me more.”
“But you should have told me,” Luke huffed out, leaning forward and pressing his face into his hands. “Because I can’t stop thinking about it now.”
Young remained quiet bedsides him.
“I know that’s kinda stupid,” Luke mumbled. “I know it’s dumb to become obsessed with somebody after they tell you they like you, but I don’t know. Maybe I realised the reason I always hated you was because I secretly did like you, and hating you was the only way I could handle my feelings.”
“Don’t do that,” Young said.
“What?”
“Don’t put emotions and thoughts into your head that were never there before,” Young said calmly. “You hated me, Luke. And that was okay. I dealt with it. You don’t need to try and talk yourself into having feelings for me just because I told you that I had feelings for you.”
“But that’s just it!” Luke snapped, finally looking over at him sharply. “I think I do now!”
Silence settled over them.
Young just stared at him, eyes sharp and mostly unreadable. For a long, aching moment, neither of them said anything further. The soft hum of the party downstairs leaked through the closed door, muffled laughter and music that felt like it belonged to another world entirely.
Finally, Young let out a shaky exhale. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Luke.” His voice was quiet, but it carried a tired edge. “It was all in the past. I liked you. You didn’t like me. Then everything changed. End of story.”
Luke’s eyes flashed. “That’s bullshit,” he said before he could stop himself. “You can’t just say it’s in the past when it’s literally happening right now.”
Young frowned. “It’s not happening right now.”
“It is!” Luke shot back. “Look at you. Look at us. You’re acting like this is just some normal conversation about the weather or something, but it’s not. You liked me, and now I can’t stop thinking about you, and you’re just sitting there pretending it doesn’t matter.”
“I’m not pretending,” Young said, a little more sharply now. “I’m trying to be realistic.”
Luke laughed bitterly. “Realistic? You mean emotionally unavailable?”
Young’s jaw tightened. “No. I mean I have a boyfriend now, Luke. I mean we live in different worlds now. You’re still in high school, I’m in college. You’re Gabe’s little brother and—”
“Stop saying that,” Luke interrupted, his voice cracking halfway through. “Stop saying I’m just Gabe’s little brother. You keep using that like it’s some kind of shield.”
“It’s not a shield, it’s the truth!” Young’s tone rose with frustration, his hands gesturing wildly before falling to his knees. “You think this is easy for me? You think I wanted to tell you any of this?”
“Then why did you?” Luke challenged. “Why even bring it up if you were just gonna take it back the second it gets messy? You could have just said nothing to me at prom and honestly…part of me wishes you just kept your mouth shut. It would have saved me a whole lot of confusion.”
Young’s mouth opened, then shut. His gaze softened for a second. Just a second. Then, he schooled his expression and shook his head. “You always do this,” he said, almost sadly. “You always twist everything into a fight.”
Luke glared, heat crawling up his neck. “Maybe because fighting with you is the only way you actually talk to me.”
The words hung between them, stinging and raw.
And for a moment, it was exactly like last year—the same tension, the same stubbornness, the same mix of frustration and the same fucking something neither of them dared to name properly. Both of them were sitting too close and breathing too fast, arguing because it was easier than admitting how much they cared.
Young looked down, rubbing his face with his palms, muttering something under his breath in Korean. Luke couldn’t catch the words, but he didn’t need to. The exhaustion in Young’s voice said enough.
“God, we’re doing it again,” Young said, voice low. “Just like before.”
Luke’s face dropped at his words and he turned to stare at the floor. Too many emotions were rushing through him right now. His pulse thundered in his ears. He chest tightened. He felt the energy drain from him all at once, the fire in his chest dimming to a dull ache. “You know what,” Luke said quietly, pushing himself off the bed, “you’re right. All we ever do is fight. Just forget it. I’m done.”
Young’s head snapped up. “What?”
“I said I’m done.” Luke’s voice was rough now, raw around the edges. “You’re clearly serious about your new boyfriend. I get it. I should’ve never brought any of this up.” He tried to keep his tone even, but the words trembled anyway. “I just thought maybe…I don’t know. Maybe there was still something. But I was wrong.”
He turned toward the door, but before he could take a step, a hand caught his arm.
“Luke, wait,” Young said quickly, standing too. There was panic in his eyes now, panic and something else. Maybe desperation. “Don’t just leave like this.”
“Why not?” Luke asked without turning around. “It’s not like anything’s going to change.”
“Because I don’t want us to end on a sour note. Not again,” Young said, his grip tightening. “Please. Don’t go like this.”
Luke finally turned, eyes glistening under the dim light. “You don’t get to ask me to stay. You don’t get to make me feel like I’m something special one minute and then act like it’s wrong to feel that way the next. It’s confusing me.”
“I’m sorry,” Young said quickly, his tone thick with guilt. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But you have to understand, Luke. There’s too many factors in the way. You’re Gabe’s brother and—”
That line again. That same goddamn line.
Luke’s jaw clenched. “Would it be any different if I wasn’t?” he interrupted sharply.
Young froze. His eyes flicked across Luke’s face, and for a long, heavy moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, softly, honestly, he said, “Yes.”
The word hit Luke like a punch to the stomach. Luke’s heart stuttered painfully, his head spinning with everything he wanted to say and couldn’t.
They just stood there, staring at each other, the air between them charged and fragile. Luke could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, his throat tightening, his chest heaving with all the emotions he’d tried to bury for so long.
And before he could talk himself out of it, before he could think about Gabe, or the boyfriend, or the hundred reasons this was wrong… Luke stepped forward. He grabbed the front of Young’s shirt, yanked him forward, and kissed him.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t slow. It was messy and desperate, a clash of trembling lips and uneven breaths. For a second, Young didn’t move. He was frozen in shock. But then his hand came up instinctively, gripping Luke’s waist like he didn’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away.
For one tiny hopeful moment, Luke thought Youngjae would pull him closer. That he’d realise this is what he wanted. Luke’s mouth on his. But then, that shattered as Young sharply pushed him away. Luke jolted backwards, stunned. The look in Young’s eyes was enough to break him all over again.
Young didn’t say a word. He just stared at Luke like he didn’t recognise him. His chest rose and fell sharply, his eyes flickering from Luke’s tear-glossed face to the floor, to the door, and back again. Then, without another word, he stepped back.
“Young…”
The space between them grew colder with every inch he put between them. Luke could feel the warmth of that brief, reckless kiss still burning on his lips, and it made his stomach twist with humiliation.
“Youngjae,” he said again, his voice cracking.
But Young was already turning away.
He didn’t look back.
The door opened with a soft creak, the sound deafening in the quiet room. For a moment, Luke thought he might say something. God, even a cruel word would have been better than silence. But Young just stood there, his hand on the doorknob, his shoulders rigid, before finally stepping out and letting the door click shut behind him.
And just like that, he was gone.
Luke stood frozen for a moment, staring at the empty space Young had just left behind. His throat felt tight, his chest hollow.
He slowly sank to the floor, pressing a shaky hand over his mouth as if he could somehow hold in the sob that tore its way out of him. His whole body shook. The alcohol made it worse, and everything felt louder, heavier and crueler. He curled his knees to his chest and tried to swallow the bitter taste rising in his throat. It wasn’t just the taste of vodka and regret anymore.
It was heartbreak.
And this time, there was no Eli and no Gabe to come and find him. It was just Luke. Small and broken, sitting in Amber’s perfect pink room, surrounded by photos of people who would never know what it felt like to be a worthless piece of shit that nobody really wanted or fought for.
He pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop. His breath came in uneven shudders, his mind looping over the look in Young’s eyes. It wasn’t rejection that hurt the most. It was the silence that came after. Because silence meant finality, and Luke had never felt so bitter, so stupid, or so utterly heartbroken in his entire life.
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