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January 2018
It was a few days before Gabe and Young were due to head back to Harvard, and the house had fallen into that lazy, post-holiday lull where time seemed to move slower. The tree was still up but half the lights had gone out, the wrapping paper long thrown away, and the leftovers were finally starting to disappear from the fridge.
Young still hadn’t gone home. His parents hadn’t called and hadn’t texted. Not even a passive-aggressive message pretending to care. At first, Luke thought maybe it would change after Christmas and New Year’s, that maybe they’d finally realise how unfair they were being and realise how much they had missed their only son. But as the days passed, it became clear they wouldn’t. Young didn’t say much about it anymore, but Luke could see it in his eyes, the quiet ache of someone trying not to let rejection hurt as much as it did.
So, the three of them (Gabe, Luke, and Young) just… lounged around. They sat in sweatpants all day, swapping between gaming marathons, half-watched movies, and takeout meals eaten straight from the containers. It felt easy and comfortable in that sibling-like way, except for the fact that Luke’s heart wouldn’t stop tripping over itself every time Young smiled at him.
They hadn’t kissed since New Year’s. Neither of them had mentioned it, either. It just hung there between them, unspoken but alive, like a spark that refused to die out. Whenever Gabe turned his back, Luke would catch Young’s eye, and they’d both fall into these small, shy smiles that said more than words ever could.
Sometimes Young would brush past him in the kitchen, and Luke would swear he could still feel the ghost of that New Year’s kiss lingering between them. Other times, they’d sit too close on the couch while Gabe was focused on his phone, shoulders just barely touching, pretending not to notice how neither of them moved away.
It was torture, but the sweet kind. The kind that made Luke both nervous and excited, the kind that reminded him that something real was brewing beneath the surface.
And every time Gabe laughed at a stupid meme or got up to grab a snack, Luke’s heart would start hammering again, because the second his brother’s back turned, Young would catch his eye and that same knowing, secret grin would pass between them like a promise neither of them dared to speak aloud.
Eli and Noah had also been blowing up the group chat all week. It started off casual with a few memes, some blurry photos from Noah’s shift at a café he worked at, but then came the all-caps HELLO???, EARTH TO LUKE, and Eli’s dramatic, if you’re dead tell us now so we can plan the funeral. Normally, Luke would’ve replied in a heartbeat. But lately, he just couldn’t bring himself to pick up his phone.
He told himself it wasn’t that he was ignoring them, he just… wanted to be here. With Young. Every hour he got to spend with him felt numbered now that Harvard was calling him back. It wasn’t like they were doing anything special. Most days were spent in the same room, scrolling on their phones, trading comments about whatever movie was on, or playing Mario Kart until Gabe’s competitiveness ruined the mood. Still, it was enough for Luke. Just existing near Young made the air feel warmer somehow.
But that night, Luke couldn’t sleep. The house was quiet and he lay there staring at the ceiling, restless. Then he heard it: a soft creak from the stairs.
His heart jumped.
He told himself it was probably Gabe sneaking to the kitchen for a snack, but something in him hoped it wasn’t. He got up, careful not to wake anyone, and padded softly down the hall. The house was dim, shadows stretching long across the walls, and he could hear faint movement coming from downstairs.
When he reached the landing, he froze.
Young was standing by the counter in the kitchen, his back turned, filling a glass of water. The soft light from the fridge glow haloed around him, and Luke’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t even know why he’d followed, only that he’d been hoping to see him, and now that he was here his pulse was racing like it was the first time all over again.
Young turned slightly, glass in hand, looking half-startled until his expression softened into a quiet smile. “Hey,” he said softly, voice low and tired.
Luke stepped further into the kitchen, trying to sound casual but failing. “Hey. Couldn’t sleep either?”
Young shook his head. “Post-holiday blues. I don’t know.”
“Yeah,” Luke said, leaning against the counter opposite him. “Same.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The clock ticked faintly somewhere behind them, and the air felt thick with the same something that had been hovering between them since New Year’s.
Luke’s eyes flicked to Young’s, and just like that, the world felt smaller. It was just them again. Just the way he liked it.
He didn’t understand though. Why this annoying wannabe lacrosse star had this impact on him. He really didn’t understand. Luke had also kissed Noah plenty of times. Actually, Luke had kissed Noah MORE than he had ever kissed Youngjae, and yet…he was hooked on the Korean boy with the flawless face and dark eyes. It wasn’t to say that Noah was ugly. He wasn’t. He really, really wasn’t. But his heart didn’t beat as erratically with Noah than it did with Young. But then again, Luke did become a nervous mess in front of Noah at times.
GOD, WHAT THE FUCK WAS HAPPENING?
Luke felt like a complete and utter two-timer even though neither of the boys were his boyfriends. Noah had happily agreed to keep their little kisses and flirting a secret. He had also been the one to approach the idea of finding ‘other people’ cute at New Years. They called it a ‘situationship’ so clearly it wasn’t anything serious.
And Youngjae…? Well, that was a whole new level of confusing. His brothers best friend. Two years older. Just broken up with his previous boyfriend. There was a lot of factors as to why their situationship would be even harder than Luke’s and Noah’s. And yet…Luke was prepared to try. He wanted Youngjae. He knew that now. After convincing himself to get over the beautiful boy and clearly having no luck, Luke realised he should just stop trying.
Luke liked Wi Youngjae, and that was that.
“So,” Luke started, “what’s on your mind? Besides the post-holiday blues, of course.” He tried for a light, teasing tone, hoping it would mask the frantic beating of his heart.
Young took a slow sip of water, his eyes still on Luke, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Just everything, I guess.” He shrugged, a gesture that seemed to carry more weight than it should. “You know. The usual end-of-break crisis. Going back to school, going back to real life, back to the never ending essays and responsibilities…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the condensation on his glass.
Luke nodded, understanding. “Yeah, I get that. It always hits hard. One minute you’re eating leftover pie for breakfast, the next you’re staring down a syllabus.” He paused, searching for a way to steer the conversation back to them.
“Speaking of which,” Young raised an eyebrow. “Have you thought about college yet?”
“Ugh,” Luke groaned dramatically. “Why does everyone care about college so bad?”
Young’s lips twitched upwards. “I think your brothers just worried about you, that’s all.”
“My brother?” Luke scoffed. “What? Is he talking about me behind my back again?”
“Not really. He just wants to understand why you avoided the topic of college, that’s all.”
“Well, it’s not something I really wanted to talk about.”
“Why not?”
Luke hesitated. “I just…I don’t know, okay? I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Failure,” Luke mumbled.
“What?” Youngjae asked in alarm. “Luke, out of everyone I have ever met, you’re one of the only people I would say is never going to fail when it comes to college. You’re way too smart for that.”
“But I might,” Luke said weakly. “I’m not like you and Gabe. I can’t just get a scholarship because I’m good at sports and use that as a way to get myself through college.”
“No, but you get a scholarship in other things,” Young said with a frown.
“It’s not just that,” Luke sighed.
“Then what?”
Luke kept his mouth shut.
Young frowned. “Luke, what is it? You can talk to me. I can try and help.”
“Nobody can help me with this.”
“You don’t know that until you ask for help.”
“I just…” Luke heaved a large sigh. “I just don’t know how the hell my parents or I will afford college when all their money is going towards my fucking top surgery.”
Young went quiet then, a look of understanding on his face.
Luke grimaced. “Exactly. Pathetic, right?”
“No,” Youngjae said. “No, not pathetic. Its understandable that you’re thinking about that. Your surgery is important to you and it’s expensive yeah, but that has nothing to do with college. At least at college you can get grants. Your grades are insanely good, Luke. You could apply for whatever the hell you wanted and I’m sure you’d get it.”
Luke felt his chest tighten. “Look, I appreciate that you’re worried about the whole college thing, but I’ll figure it out, alright? I swear, I will. But… enough about me. Let’s go back to you.”
“What about me?”
“Well, apart from college stress, is there something else keeping you up tonight?” He tried to inject a hint of curiosity, a subtle invitation for Young to open up. He wanted to know, truly, what Young was feeling. “Like, is there anything…or anyone…on your mind?”
Young looked up, his dark eyes meeting Luke’s again, and this time there was a flicker of something deeper, something vulnerable. “It’s a lot,” he admitted softly. “The past few weeks… it’s been good here. Really good.” His eyes flickered around the kitchen, then back to Luke, lingering. “Your family, this house… it’s a nice escape.”
Luke felt a warmth spread through him at the implication. “It is,” he agreed, his voice softening. “Always is.” He shifted, leaning a little closer across the counter, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Though, I think my mom’s starting to miss having her kitchen to herself. She keeps ‘accidentally’ leaving cleaning supplies out.”
Young let out a soft laugh, a genuine, unforced sound that made Luke’s stomach do a little flip. “I should probably help out more.”
“Nah, you’re our guest,” Luke said quickly, then bit his lip. He wanted to be smooth, not sound like an overeager puppy. He tried again, a little more deliberately. “Besides, you’re good company. We don’t mind having you around.” He held Young’s gaze, trying to convey everything he meant by ‘good company’ without actually saying it.
I don’t mind having you around. I love having you around. I wish you’d never leave.
The air thickened again, the unspoken words swirling between them. Young’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful, almost wistful expression. “You know,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s funny. I thought after everything, I’d be desperate to get back to my own space, my own routine. But I’m not. It feels way too easy being here.”
“It is easy,” Luke confirmed, his heart thrumming. This was it. This was the opening. “Especially when you’re around.” He let the words hang, a direct, undeniable flirtation. He watched Young’s reaction, a subtle blush creeping up his neck, a slight parting of his lips.
Young set his glass down on the counter with a soft clink. He pushed off the counter, moving slowly and deliberately, around the island. Luke’s breath hitched. Every nerve ending in his body was suddenly hyper-aware, tingling with anticipation. Young stopped in front of him, close enough that Luke could feel the faint warmth radiating from his body, smell the subtle scent of sleep and something uniquely Young.
“Is that a line you use on all the boys, Luke?” Young asked, his voice low, a playful glint in his eyes, but with an underlying seriousness that made Luke’s knees feel weak.
Luke swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Maybe,” he whispered, his gaze dropping to Young’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “Is it working?”
Young’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against Luke’s arm, sending a jolt through him. “It has my attention,” he murmured. And then, he was leaning in before Luke could respond. It was slow. Agonisingly slow. It gaveLuke just enough time to register the soft brush of Young’s breath against his lips, the slight tilt of his head, the way his eyes fluttered closed. Then their lips met.
It wasn’t the frantic, surprised press of lips like it had been on New Year’s eve. This was deliberate. Soft at first, almost exploratory. Like a question. Luke responded instantly, leaning into it, his hand coming up to cup the back of Young’s neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin behind his ear. Young’s hand moved from his arm, gliding up to rest gently on Luke’s jaw, his thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone.
The kiss deepened, a slow burn that quickly ignited into something fierce and demanding. Luke felt a dizzying rush, a sense of rightness that settled deep in his bones. All the confusion, all the internal monologues, all the comparisons faded away, leaving only this undeniable connection, this potent, thrilling reality that he wasn’t the only one. Young tasted like water and something sweet, and Luke wanted to drown in it. He parted his lips, inviting Young in, and Young responded with a soft groan, his tongue tentatively meeting Luke’s.
It was everything Luke had been craving for days, everything he hadn’t dared to fully acknowledge he wanted. He pulled Young closer, pressing their bodies together, the counter digging into his back. Young’s fingers tightened on his jaw, his other hand sliding around Luke’s waist, pulling him flush against him. Luke could feel the hard line of Young’s body against his, the rapid beat of Young’s heart mirroring his own. God, Luke could feel the boys toned chest against his own. Well, against his fucking binder. But he tried not to think about that.
Time seemed to warp, stretching and compressing at once. It could have been seconds, it could have been an eternity. Eventually, reluctantly, Young pulled back, breaking the kiss with a soft sigh. Their foreheads rested against each other, breaths coming in ragged gasps.
Luke’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Young’s. Young’s pupils were dilated, his lips swollen and slightly parted, a flush high on his cheekbones. He looked beautiful, utterly captivating, and Luke felt a surge of possessiveness, a fierce desire to keep him right here, like this, forever.
“I really like kissing you,” Luke managed, his voice husky and a little breathless. He didn’t even care how cliché it sounded. It was the only thing that came to mind.
Young chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through Luke. “Yeah. Me too,” he agreed, his eyes still closed for a moment longer before he opened them, a hint of something unreadable in their depths. He gently pushed back, creating a small space between them, though his hands remained on Luke’s waist.
Luke felt a pang of disappointment at the distance, however small. He wanted to pull Young back, to continue what they had started. But he saw the shift in Young’s expression, the return of that thoughtful, almost cautious look.
“Luke,” Young began, his voice softer now, more serious. He ran his thumb over Luke’s hip bone, a comforting, yet unsettling gesture. “This… this is good. Really good.” He paused, searching for the right words. “And I like you. I really do.”
Luke’s heart soared, then braced itself. He knew this wasn’t the end of the sentence.
“But,” Young continued, his gaze steady, “I just… I don’t think we should rush into anything. Or label anything right now.” He took a deep breath.
Luke swallowed thickly.
“My last relationship ended pretty messily, and it was intense. Yeah, I broke up with him. But he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. Especially when I never gave him an explanation. I’m still figuring things out, you know? And with going back to Harvard, and you being here, and then the whole Gabe thing…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely between them, towards the stairs, the whole house. “It’s a lot of moving parts.”
Luke’s initial rush of elation deflated slightly, replaced by a familiar ache of uncertainty. He understood, intellectually. He really did. Young had just gotten out of a serious relationship. He was about to go back to school, miles away. And then there was Gabe, the elephant in every room they shared. But understanding didn’t make the sting any less sharp. He had just confessed his feelings, implicitly with that kiss. He had showed how much he wanted this, wanted Young. And now Young was pulling back, putting up boundaries and walls.
“So,” Luke said, trying to keep his voice even, to hide the tremor of disappointment. “What does that mean? No more… this?” He gestured vaguely between them.
Young immediately shook his head, his grip on Luke’s waist tightening slightly. “No, not at all. It just means… let’s take it slow. See where things go. No pressure. No expectations. Just… I don’t know. Us?” He looked at Luke earnestly, his eyes pleading for understanding. “Can we do that? Can we just…be?”
Luke looked at Young, at the genuine concern in his eyes, the vulnerability he was showing. He could push, he could demand more, he could try to argue. But he knew instinctively that it wouldn’t get him anywhere. And a part of him, the more mature rational part, knew Young was right. It was a lot. It was new. It was different.
He took a slow breath, trying to calm the frantic beat of his heart. “Okay,” he said, the word coming out a little rough. He forced a small, reassuring smile. “Okay. We can do that. Slow. No labels. Just… us.” He mirrored Young’s words, trying to make them his own, trying to find comfort in them.
Young’s face relaxed, a grateful smile spreading across his lips. “Good,” he whispered, and then, before Luke could anticipate it, he leaned in again, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Luke’s lips. “Thank you.”
Luke nodded.
Young pulled away completely then, stepping back, putting a more comfortable distance between them. “I should probably try and get some sleep,” he said, his voice lighter, but still a little hoarse. “Last big day of lounging around and doing nothing tomorrow.”
Luke managed a weak chuckle. “Yeah. Me too.” He watched as Young walked back to the counter, picked up his glass, and then turned to head towards the stairs.
“Goodnight, Luke,” Young said, a soft smile on his face.
“Night, Youngjae,” Luke replied, his voice barely a whisper.
He stood there for a long moment after Young had disappeared up the stairs, the cool air of the kitchen seeping into his skin. His lips still tingled, a phantom warmth radiating from where Young’s hands had been.
Slow. No labels. Just us.
It wasn’t what he wanted, not entirely. He wanted to shout about their kiss from the rooftops, wanted to claim Young as his. But it wasn’t a rejection either. It was a beginning, albeit a hesitant, undefined one. And as Luke slowly made his way back to his own silent room, a tiny stubborn spark of hope ignited in his chest. He liked Youngjae. And Youngjae, despite his reservations, liked him back. For now, that would have to be enough. And Luke was determined to make “just us” something undeniably real.
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