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Noah didn’t take Luke home.
The moment the car sped away from the parking lot, Luke had expected they would head back toward his house—toward something familiar and safe. Instead, Noah drove in the opposite direction, toward the outskirts of town where glowing hotel signs lit up the night like warnings Luke wasn’t really ready to acknowledge.
Luke didn’t say a word. He couldn’t. His heartbeat was a steady, hollow thud beneath his ribs. It was too slow for panic, yet too fast for calm. Numb. That was all he felt. Numb and suspended, like reality was happening two steps away from him and he was only catching the echo of it.
What the hell had happened back there? Luke didn’t even want to think about it.
The car pulled into the parking lot of a place that looked way too fancy for high schoolers after prom, it’s warm light glowing in the lobby windows and it’s soft music drifting from somewhere hidden. Noah parked the car, and for a moment he didn’t move. He just turned to Luke, breathing hard like he’d run a marathon in the short drive over.
Luke stared forward, fingers curled into his lap.
“Come on,” Noah said gently, like none of the anger from before ever existed. He reached over and took Luke’s hand. “Let’s go inside.”
Luke followed. His legs carried him even though his mind screamed at him to stop, to ask questions, to shout that he wasn’t ready, to turn back and run home. But the numbness in his body was stronger. The numbness made it easier not to think.
Inside the hotel, the room was…prepared.
Rose petals on the floor, scattered like a cliché from a movie that didn’t feel like Luke’s life. Candles (real ones, their scent thick with vanilla) lined the dresser and windowsill. There was soft lighting, too soft, almost intimate to the point of suffocating. Noah must have come here earlier. Must have planned every detail.
Luke felt the weight of that realisation drop through him like a stone.
Because while he did love Noah, and he really really did, he knew with frightening clarity that he didn’t love the other boy the way Noah loved him. Not with fire and possession and forever in his eyes. Luke loved him out of comfort, out of familiarity, out of fear of losing someone who cared so intensely. He loved him like a best friend. Not a lover. The realisation crashed into him.
Noah shut the door behind them and that soft click sounded louder than anything else had all night. “Look,” Noah said, stepping closer, eyes warm again, hands gentle again, like he could erase everything from before. “I’m sorry I got upset. I really am. I just… I wanted tonight to be perfect. Just you and me. No interruptions. No distractions. No Young.”
Luke’s breath twitched.
Young. The fight. Young’s arm around him. The look on his face as the car drove away.
Luke blinked hard, trying to clear the memory, but it stuck like static to the inside of his skull.
Noah’s hands slid around Luke’s waist, pulling him closer. Luke didn’t resist, but he didn’t lean in either. “Luke?” Noah whispered. “You’re so quiet.”
Luke swallowed. His voice felt locked somewhere deep in his chest. He should be nervous about this. He should be terrified.
Noah leaned his forehead against Luke’s. “I love you,” he said, desperate and soft and wanting.
Luke shut his eyes. He did love Noah, just… not like this. Not tonight. Not in this room full of expectations. But the numbness kept him still, kept him silent, kept him from ruining everything.
Noah kissed him then. It was slow at first, like he was afraid Luke might break. Luke let him. Because right now, feeling nothing was easier than dealing with everything. He stood there, lips moving but heart unmoved, a passenger in his own skin.
And the candles flickered.
And the music hummed.
And Luke wondered when love had started to feel like a trap.
Noah kissed him again, slower this time, like he was trying to soothe something in Luke that he didn’t understand. His hands stayed gentle, guiding Luke backwards until the back of his legs brushed against the mattress. Luke let himself sink down because his body didn’t seem to know how to do anything else.
He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, while Noah hovered above him, smiling that soft lovesick smile that used to make Luke melt but now just made his chest ache.
“You’re everything to me, you know that?” Noah whispered, brushing hair from Luke’s forehead with careful fingers. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. You’re my whole world.”
Luke’s throat tightened.
Noah kept talking, voice a low rush of words meant to comfort but squeezing Luke tighter than any grip could. “I want to make tonight special. Perfect. Just us. The way it’s supposed to be.” His lips brushed Luke’s cheek. “You’re the love of my life.”
Love.
The room suddenly felt too warm. The candles too bright. The music too loud.
Noah’s face hovered close, inches from Luke’s, waiting for a response… waiting for Luke to say it back. Luke’s heart pounded. His fingers curled into the sheets. He could feel tears trying to rise, sharp and unwelcome.
“Noah…” he whispered, barely audible.
Noah smiled, already expecting something sweet in return. “Yeah?”
Luke inhaled one unsteady breath. “I don’t…” His voice cracked. He forced the words out anyway. “I don’t love you.”
Noah froze.
His hands, which had been cupping Luke’s face so gently, slowly slipped away. For a moment, he just stared, eyes wide and breath held, as if he was waiting for Luke to take the words back.
Luke didn’t.
“I don’t love you…” Luke swallowed, his voice barely working. “Not like you love me. Not how you want me to.”
The air in the room shifted. The decorated fairy lights, the rose petals scattered across the sheets, the soft music humming from somewhere unseen—it all suddenly felt wrong. Too heavy. Too intimate. Like Luke was trapped inside someone else’s fantasy.
Noah leaned back, blinking rapidly. “You—You’re just scared,” he whispered, desperate. “Prom night, all the pressure… it’s messing with your head. You love me. You tell me every day.”
Luke shook his head, the movement stiff and painful. “I thought I did. I wanted to. Because you’ve done so much for me. Because I didn’t want to lose you. Because you were my best friend. But your kind of love, it… it hurts me.”
Noah’s jaw clenched. “Hurts you?” His voice splintered. “I do everything for you. I brought you here so we could have a perfect night. I love you so much it makes me feel insane. That’s what love is.”
Luke’s chest tightened. “That’s not what love should be.”
Silence stretched, sharp and fragile.
Noah stood abruptly, pacing to the other side of the room, fingers tangled in his hair. He looked like he wanted to punch a wall or scream or cry. Maybe all three. When he turned back, his expression was shattered. “So what?” he croaked. “You’re ending this? Here? Over a stupid fight in the parking lot with Young?”
“It’s not about Youngjae,” Luke said softly. “It’s… everything. The jealousy. The way you talk to me like you might break if I walk away. The way I feel guilty when I don’t give you what you want.” His voice cracked. “I should’ve told you sooner but I thought that after Boston, things would go back to normal. That things would be okay again. But they haven’t. I’m sorry.”
Noah stared at him for a long while. His breathing slowed, like he was shutting down. “You’re choosing him,” he murmured.
Luke felt his heart stutter. “I’m choosing myself.”
That… seemed to be the last thread holding Noah together.
He dragged a trembling hand across his face and turned toward the door. “I’ll drive you home,” he said, voice hollow.
Luke stood from the bed, legs unsteady. As he followed Noah out, he glanced once over his shoulder at the room Noah had prepared. He didn’t feel flattered. He felt like he was suffocating. And when the door clicked shut behind them, the weight in Luke’s chest eased, but only a little.
Because even though he knew he’d done the right thing…he also knew he had just broken someone who didn’t know how to be whole without him.
⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°
Luke lay curled on his side, trying to breathe through a throat that wouldn’t stop tightening. No matter how many times he wiped his eyes, new tears kept slipping out, hot and humiliating. He pressed his face into the pillow to muffle the sound—his parents were asleep and the last thing he wanted was anyone walking in on him like this.
But his chest hurt. His heart hurt. Everything hurt.
He bit down hard on the heel of his palm, trying to silence the next sob, only to freeze when he heard thudding footsteps downstairs. Clumsy. Heavy. Followed by a hiccupped laugh and a loud whisper telling someone to “shut uuuup.”
Gabe and Youngjae.
Great.
Luke squeezed his eyes shut and kept still. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, they’d just crash on the couch or stumble to Gabe’s room and—
A loud bump. A curse. More stumbling.
They were definitely coming upstairs.
Luke rolled onto his back and wiped his face furiously, trying to erase the evidence of everything he was feeling. His breathing was still ragged, but he forced it quiet. If he didn’t move, maybe they’d think he wasn’t home.
The door handle rattled.
“No,” Luke whispered to himself, voice breaking.
The door creaked open anyway.
A sliver of hall light spilled into the room, cutting across the carpet and catching the shimmer of leftover tears on his cheeks. Gabe’s silhouette leaned heavily against the frame, swaying a little.
“Luuuke?” his brother giggled out, far too loudly. “You awake?”
Young crashed lightly into Gabe’s back, muttering, “Shush. You’re yelling, idiot.”
Luke swallowed hard, panic and embarrassment tangling thick in his throat. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, trying to turn his face away, but it was too late. Gabe stepped forward, eyes adjusting to the dark. When he saw Luke’s wet cheeks, his smile vanished and his drunken haze wiped clean in a second.
Luke curled in on himself, shame hitting like a wave. He didn’t want them to see him like this. But they already had.
Gabe blinked at Luke. “Oh, fuck. Hey, hey, hey…” Gabe mumbled, suddenly much more sober than he had any right to be. He stumbled forward and practically collapsed onto the bed beside him, pulling Luke into his arms like second nature. “What happened? Who do I need to murder?”
Luke shook his head against Gabe’s shoulder, but the shaking only made the sobs break loose again. He hated crying like this, loud and ugly and helpless, but he couldn’t stop. Not when everything hurt so much and his own thoughts felt too sharp to swallow.
Young hovered in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame, breathing a little too slow. He was definitely very drunk, but his eyes were locked on Luke, dark with concern.
“It was Noah, wasn’t it?” Gabe said, voice lower now, his hand rubbing circles on Luke’s back.
Luke sucked in a jagged breath and nodded. “We broke up,” he choked out.
Gabe froze again, but only for a heartbeat. “Well,” he said with a forced brightness that trembled around the edges, “honestly? Good. I never liked—”
“Gabe,” Young warned softly, stepping inside.
“No, I mean—” Gabe rushed out, voice cracking. “I mean… I’m sorry. I really am. But you don’t deserve to cry like this over anyone.”
Luke pulled away just enough to wipe his face, embarrassed by how soaked Gabe’s shirt had become. His voice was small, fragile. “I just… feel like I made such a mess of everything. And I really did care about him. I didn’t want to hurt him. He’s still my best friend but I told him I didn’t love him in the same way he loved me and we just…we ended.”
Young sat down on the other side of the bed, careful and quiet, leaving just enough space that Luke didn’t feel trapped. “So what if you hurt him?” Young murmured, trying not to look too annoyed. “You told him the truth. That’s brave.”
It didn’t feel brave. It felt like ruining someone. Luke sniffed hard, his throat burning. “He was so good to me sometimes and I was so scared of losing him. I thought I had to love him back or our friendship would be over.”
Gabe softened, his drunken haze fading into something protective and steady. “Love isn’t a debt, Luke. You don’t owe that to anyone.”
Young nodded slowly. “Especially not someone who tries to own you.”
That hit too close. Luke’s lip wobbled again and Gabe pulled him closer.
For a while, no one spoke. The only sound was Luke’s quiet crying and the occasional hiccup that slipped out when he tried to breathe too quickly.
Eventually Gabe whispered, “Do you want us to stay with you tonight?”
Luke hesitated, then nodded. Because the silence was too loud and the bed felt too big and his chest hurt too much to try facing it alone.
Gabe exhaled in relief and kicked off his shoes, already climbing over the covers like he owned the place. “I’ll take the left side. Young, you get the floor—”
Young raised an eyebrow. “Absolutely not.”
“Well you can’t sleep up here,” Gabe grumbled.
“And why the hell not?” Young snapped.
“Because this is Luke’s bed,” Gabe said in an obvious tone.
“So what? We’re making him feel better aren’t we?” Young replied.
Luke watched them back and forth.
They bickered quietly like that for a moment, tipsy and ridiculous, until finally the two of them settled into the bed. Gabe was on one side and Young on the other, forming a warm, protective barrier around Luke. Luke stared at the ceiling, breathing becoming easier with every minute that passed between them.
It wasn’t the night he thought prom would be. But somehow… This felt safer.
Gabe slumped halfway onto the mattress, mumbled something like “love you, kid”, and then passed out completely with his mouth open, snoring into Luke’s pillow.
Luke wiped at his face one more time, embarrassed and exhausted. He shifted to lie on his side, partly to put space between him and Gabe’s heavy arm, partly because he could feel Young’s eyes on him, and he couldn’t ignore it. Sure enough, when he turned over, Young was there staring back. Both of them just looked at each other for a while before Young broke the quiet.
“You okay?” Young whispered.
Luke’s laugh came out small and broken. “Yeah. Totally. I just love crying alone at 2am. It’s my favourite hobby.”
Young’s expression softened. He moved closer, but not too close because Gabe was still in the room, and booped Luke’s nose with his finger. The blue haired boy scrunched his nose.
“What happened?” Young asked quietly. “After you left.”
Luke looked away, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. “We got to the hotel he booked for us,” he whispered. Young looked surprised and was about to say more but Luke continued. “I think he wanted us to, ya know. But I didn’t want to. He kept telling me over and over how much he loved me but I just couldn’t say it back. So we broke up. Well… technically I broke up with him. But the whole thing—it just—” His throat closed again.
Young’s jaw clenched like he was remembering every moment in the parking lot. “I shouldn’t have shoved him,” Young said after a moment. “I lost my temper. I just saw him dragging you out and—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”
Luke blinked, startled. That wasn’t what he expected to hear. “I know you didn’t mean it. You were just protecting me,” Luke whispered. “You always do.”
Young’s eyes flickered with something. Maybe guilt, anger, or sadness. Luke couldn’t tell. “He shouldn’t talk to you like that,” Young said, voice low. “He shouldn’t grab you like that. He’s lucky I didn’t do more damage or tell Gabe. There’s no way your brother would let him get away with it. He was kinda angry when I told him that you had left.”
Luke swallowed. His fingers fidgeted with the blanket edge. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” he murmured. “Tonight was supposed to be good.”
“And instead he made you cry.” Young’s voice hardened. “Again.”
Luke closed his eyes, wishing the tears would stop. “He’s not a bad person,” Luke whispered. It sounded weak even to his own ears. “He just… loved me too much?”
Young shook his head. “That’s not love, Luke.”
“Then what is?” Luke asked in a broken voice. “Secret dances behind closed doors? Whispered secrets and hidden kisses? Is that love, Youngjae?”
Silence stretched between them, thick and fragile. Luke finally turned his head fully, meeting Young’s gaze in the dim light. They stared at one another like they were both terrified to breathe.
Young leaned forward slightly. Barely. Just enough to brush his fingers against the blanket near Luke’s hand, close but not touching. “I’m here,” he said, so quietly Luke almost didn’t hear it. “I’m always here for you.”
“No you’re not,” Luke whispered back. “You live in Boston. There’s not much you can do for me from all the way over there.”
“But Gabe told me you got into MCAD,” Young replied. “That’s barely any distance at all. You’ll be closer to us in a few months time.”
“And then, what?” Luke asked, sniffling. “You gonna take care of me like I’m some little kid?”
Young’s eyes flickered over Luke’s face and a frown formed on his lips. “No,” he mumbled. “But we can see each other more. That would help, right?”
“Help?”
“Like,” Young was clearly having a hard time making any sense of his words and was scrambling for things to say, “you’ll be close to me and your brother. You can hang out with us on weekends and we can help you. Like, if you need any help. Ya know, college can be pretty daunting. You’ll need people around you. Plus, you could come to our lacrosse games. Just like old times. Maybe even bring Eli and Nate with you. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind driving over. My point is, you’ll still have your freedom but you’ll also have us to fall back on if anything ever goes to shit.”
Luke sniffled but said nothing. He couldn’t handle the weight of what Young was offering him. He couldn’t handle the hope in it because he had been let down one too many times by the soft brown-eyed boy. He was scared about the possibility of things he wasn’t ready to name. His chest felt too tight, like it might crack open if they kept talking about feelings for even one more second. So he latched onto the first safer thought that came to him.
“My… top surgery is a week after graduation,” he whispered. “I’m really nervous about it.”
Young’s head snapped up, eyes widening like Luke had just told him the best news in the world. “Your date’s set?” he asked, voice lifting with genuine excitement. “Luke, that’s amazing. That’s fucking huge. What? This is insane.”
Luke stared at the blanket, embarrassed, wiping at his eyes again. “I mean, yeah. It’s… good. Scary, but good.”
Young’s face softened into something warm and bright. “I’m so happy for you. Seriously. You’ve wanted this for so long. And I’ll be here. I can help with recovery and stuff. Me and Gabe will be back for the summer and—”
“Stop,” Luke croaked.
Young froze. “Stop… what?”
Luke turned his face into the pillow for a second, trying to get himself under control. His voice came out small, painfully honest. “Stop talking like that.”
Young blinked, confused. “Like what?”
“Like you care about me that much,” Luke whispered. “Like… like I matter to you. It makes me confused. About… everything.”
Young stared at him for a long moment, then his expression changed. Not into guilt. Not into uncertainty. Into clarity. “Sorry. Sometimes I get carried away, but it’s only because I’ve never been confused,” he murmured, voice steady. “Not once.”
Luke’s breath caught.
“I’ve always liked you,” Young continued. “Too much. That’s the problem. Every stupid thing I’ve done? Every time I’ve messed up? It’s because it’s always been you and I’ve never known how to deal with that.” He looked away briefly, swallowing. “And I don’t know how to do this halfway. I don’t know how to pretend I don’t care. My issue is, when I like somebody, I really like them. I can’t do this shit halfway. So if I see you struggling, I’d wanna make your life as easy as possible.”
Luke’s heart thundered. His fingers curled tight in the sheets like he needed to anchor himself to something before the room spun away. “That’s not fair,” he whispered, voice trembling. “You can’t say stuff like that to me right now.”
“I’m not trying to make anything harder,” Young said quickly. “I just… I don’t want you thinking you imagined all of this.”
A loud snort cut through the silence.
Both of them jerked their heads toward Gabe, who was very much awake now, squinting at them with one bleary eye open. “For fuck’s sake,” he grumbled thickly. “You two and your talking. Can you not?” He flopped an arm over his face. “Worst… sleepover… ever…”
Luke flushed hot with embarrassment. Young huffed out a little laugh. But the room now felt too small. Too intimate. Too dangerous.
Young cleared his throat. “We should… probably not have this conversation while your brother is passed out next to us.”
Luke nodded stiffly, pressing his face into his pillow again. “Yeah. Probably.”
Young hesitated, “Luke?” he whispered. Luke lifted his eyes just enough to see the worry and the hope tangled in Young’s expression like a mess neither of them knew how to clean up. “We’ll talk more. I promise,” Young promised softly. “Only when you’re ready.”
Luke didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because now he wasn’t crying because he was heartbroken over his break up with Noah. Now he was crying because he wasn’t sure his heart could survive what, or who, it wanted next.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Luke woke up to the smell of something warm and buttery drifting under his door. Hmmm, bacon, pancakes and coffee. For a moment, he just stayed there, staring at the ceiling, surprised by the rare feeling of peace.
Slowly, he pushed himself up. He told himself firmly in his head that he didn’t need to wear his binder today because his ribs were still sore from crying and the emotional wreckage of the last 24 hours. He tugged on the biggest hoodie he owned, tugging the fabric flat across his chest and checking his reflection. Passable. Good enough.
He padded downstairs, socked feet silent on the carpet, and paused at the bottom when he saw them; His parents were dancing around each other in the kitchen, his mom flipping pancakes while his dad tried to steal bacon off the pan. Gabe was sitting on the counter like he owned the place (which to be fair, he kind of did) peeling oranges and tossing segments into his mouth. And Youngjae was there. He was laughing, trying and failing to crack eggs with one hand while encouraging Luke’s mom to add “just a little more vanilla” to the pancake batter.
The sight hit Luke harder than he expected. It felt like some old dream, one where things hadn’t fallen apart and where heartbreak wasn’t sitting in his stomach like a stone. Where Young was just Young. His friend. His brother’s best friend. Someone who always fit so easily into this house, like he belonged here. Like he always had.
Gabe spotted him first. “Sleeping Beauty lives!” he announced dramatically.
His parents turned and immediately swooped in for hugs and cheek kisses. Young just smiled quietly at him from across the counter—soft, relieved, careful.
Luke’s chest tightened. He swallowed emotion and forced a smile. “Morning.”
They all sat down together at the table and Luke felt calm. This felt like the kind of morning families in movies got and it was the kind Luke had missed without realising how badly.
His mom leaned forward, beaming at all three boys like they were hers. “So,” she said, stirring her coffee with unnecessary enthusiasm, “I was thinking we should all go out today. Do something fun. Mini golf? A beach day? Something to celebrate Gabe and Young being home for a few days.”
Luke caught the way Young’s eyes flickered down, his smile pulling small and genuine. The Davies household always treated him like he wasn’t just a guest… but a missing piece finally returned. He didn’t say anything, but Luke could see how much it meant.
Gabe grinned. “I vote skating rink. We can show off our skills.”
“You mean fall on your ass repeatedly?” Luke teased, and Gabe gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded.
His mom laughed. “The beach might be safer.”
Conversation flowed easily then. There were jokes, bickering, and second and third helpings of pancakes. Luke didn’t touch his phone once to check if his now ex-boyfriend had text him overnight, because in that moment, surrounded by people who loved him, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: Home.
It didn’t take long for everyone to agree on the beach. Gabe bolted upstairs to change, yelling something about finding his “sexiest shorts,” which earned him a groan from Youngjae and a “we have neighbors!” from Luke’s dad.
Luke lingered in his room, standing in front of his dresser with a hollow kind of frustration. Beach day. Great. Exactly the kind of thing that demanded exposure of the one part of himself he refused to let anyone see. He pulled out a pair of long loose swim trunks, the ones that hung just right on his hips. Then he scanned his options for shirts: oversized white tee, black hoodie, navy rash guard… ugh. He settled on a lightweight, long-sleeve shirt that wouldn’t cling too much if it got wet. Neutral. Safe. And that also meant he kinda did have to put his binder on today. DOUBLE UGH.
He smoothed the fabric down over his chest, tracing the invisible lines of what he wished were there and the very visible ones of what shouldn’t be. His reflection stared back with a tight jaw. He couldn’t wait for top surgery. It couldn’t come quick enough.
Downstairs, Gabe was already ready. His hair was a disaster and his sunglasses were way too crooked on his face. He opened his arms as if showing off. “Beach babe reporting for duty.”
“No one asked,” Luke muttered, stepping past him to help his mom pack towels and sunscreen.
Youngjae came down next. He was wearing some simple shorts (which probably belonged to Gabe) and a loose short-sleeved white t-shirt. His hair still damp from the shower. His eyes flicked to Luke, then to the sleeves covering his arms and chest. He didn’t comment and didn’t stare. Just gave the smallest nod, like he understood without Luke having to explain a thing. Luke swallowed and looked away.
The car ride was cramped and loud. Gabe witched the radio station three times a minute, chasing the perfect “beach anthem.” Luke’s dad eventually threatened to “turn this car around,” which made Gabe shut up for exactly twelve seconds.
But Luke barely heard any of it. Because in the seat beside him, Young’s knee kept brushing his, accidentally and casually, and each light touch sent something quick and hot up Luke’s spine. And every time Luke shifted away, trying to escape the contact, Young shifted too… like he wasn’t trying to escape anything. Their eyes met and Young had the nerve to smirk.
Luke tried not to feel giddy.
What the fuck happened to ‘when you’re ready’…?
When they finally pulled up to the beach, sunlight glittered off the waves. Kids were already running wild through the sand. The air smelled like salt and sunscreen and summer.
Gabe was the first out, sprinting like a golden retriever set free.
Luke stepped out slower, watching Gabe dive straight toward the shoreline as if the ocean owed him money. Youngjae stayed by Luke’s side, holding the towels, his eyes soft with that same unspoken understanding.
“You look nice,” Young said quietly, almost like he wasn’t sure if Luke would accept the compliment.
Luke snorted, staring down at his sleeves. “Right. Super beachy.”
“I wasn’t talking about the outfit,” Youngjae said. Luke’s breath caught, only a tiny flicker of reaction, but Young saw it anyway. His voice softened, cautious but sincere. “But yeah, your outfit looks nice too. It looks cozy, and that’s better than feeling uncomfortable.”
Luke didn’t have the words to respond. So instead he just nodded once, sharp and awkward, and walked toward the sand before emotion could betray him. The sun was warm on his back and the sand was soft beneath his feet.
He stretched out on their beach towel near his parents, digging his fingers absentmindedly into the warm sand. Gabe and Youngjae were already chest-deep in the water, shoving and splashing each other like overgrown kids. Gabe kept yelling every time a wave hit him, even though he saw it coming. Young just laughed and shoved him under again.
Luke watched them with this weird mix of jealousy and longing brewing in his chest.
He imagined himself out there—shirtless, not worrying about who might be staring, or what might be visible through wet fabric. Just sun and water and freedom. Just existing in a body that felt like his.
In his mind’s little movie, Young turned toward him, splashing him lightly, smiling that sweet curved smile that always lit up Luke’s ribs like fireworks. He imagined Young grabbing his wrist, pulling him into the waves, their hands lacing together like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was allowed. Like Luke wasn’t afraid of wanting more than he should.
Young would push his sexy mullet hair back and say something stupid like, “Look, you’re smiling,” and Luke wouldn’t even deny it because… he would be. Really smiling. Not the tight one he used on everyone else. The whole scene was so good his chest hurt.
“Whatcha thinking about?” his mom asked, suddenly leaning into his space.
Luke jerked away, practically choking on air. “Nothing. Just, ya know, sun. Water. Existing.”
His mom followed his gaze out to the ocean. Young had Gabe in a headlock now, both of them laughing so hard they almost swallowed the water.
She elbowed Luke gently. “Young’s grown into quite the handsome young man, hasn’t he?”
Luke’s brain short-circuited. “What—? Uh—I guess? I don’t know, Mom.”
She shrugged in that annoying I-know-things-you-think-I-don’t-know way. “I mean, I get it. If I were your age, I’d probably have a crush on him too.”
Luke’s entire soul left his body. “I—I don’t! Seriously!” he hissed, cheeks burning so hot they probably matched Gabe’s sunburn-in-progress. “We’re just friends. He’s Gabe’s friend, actually. He’s basically a second son to you, remember?”
“Yes,” she said easily. “But he’s not my son to you.”
Luke wished a wave would come up the beach and swallow him whole. “Mom, stop. Please.”
“What? I’m just observing.”
“Observe something else!”
She just patted his knee with a knowing little smile. The kind that said she wasn’t fooled, not even a bit.
Luke stared back toward the water, mortified and rattled and entirely too aware of the way his heartbeat jumped whenever Youngjae looked his way. And as if the universe had perfect comedic timing, Young looked over right then, sunlight dripping off his skin like gold, smile wide and bright. Luke’s breath stuttered.
Right.
Mortified didn’t even cover it.
He and Youngjae needed to talk, or make out, as soon as possible. Luke couldn’t wait any longer.
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