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Luke woke up the next morning with his phone still pressed to cheek but it was long since dead. He must have fallen asleep on the phone to Youngjae last night.
God, I hope I wasn’t snoring.
He huffed to himself and decided to get up so he could see who else was awake. After changing into a big hoodie and a pair of long-ish shorts, he headed out of his bedroom and downstairs. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, fingers curled tightly around the banister. The smell of coffee drifted from the kitchen, warm and familiar, but it did nothing to settle the knot twisting in his stomach.
Gabe was at the counter, hunched over a mug, staring into it like the answers to the universe might be floating somewhere at the bottom. His hair was a mess, his eyes tired, but he looked… calmer. Quieter. Like whatever storm had raged inside him last night had finally burnt itself out.
Luke hovered in the doorway for a moment, unsure if he should turn around and flee back upstairs.
Gabe didn’t look up. “You can stop pretending you’re not there,” he murmured.
Luke flinched.
Busted.
He stepped forward timidly. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Gabe said, still staring into the mug.
Luke’s throat tightened. “Um… how are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” Gabe answered bluntly. Then he sighed, rubbed his eyes, and finally lifted his head. “But… calmer. I guess.”
Luke nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy but not angry. Not like last night.
Gabe set his mug down. “I’m sorry.”
Luke blinked. “What?”
“For last night. For all of it.” Gabe looked down, jaw flexing with guilt. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Or Dad. Or… anyone. I was being an asshole.”
“You were upset,” Luke said carefully.
“Still not an excuse,” Gabe muttered. He rubbed his palms over his face. “I know I scared you. I could see it.”
Luke swallowed hard. “A little.”
Gabe winced. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Another silence.
Gabe eventually let out a slow breath. “I don’t wanna be like that. I don’t want you thinking that’s who I am. I just… I dunno. Last night got away from me.”
Luke nodded gently. “I’m glad you’re feeling better today.”
Gabe looked at him properly then and something in his face softened. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you know. If you were wondering.”
Luke’s eyes widened slightly. “I—I wasn’t trying to pry, I swear. I just—”
“No,” Gabe cut in. “I know. And Young didn’t… betray me. I was just being paranoid. And drunk. And being a dickhead.”
Luke tried not to smile at that bit.
Gabe dragged a hand through his messy hair. “I’m gonna try to cut back. On drinking, I mean. I don’t like who I turn into, and I hate knowing you saw me like that. That everyone saw me like that. I don’t even mean for it to happen, ya know? It just does.”
Luke stepped closer, finally close enough to reach out. He lightly nudged Gabe’s arm with his fingertips. “You’re still my brother. One bad night doesn’t change anything.”
Gabe huffed a tired but grateful laugh. “You’re too soft, you know.”
“Rude.”
“True.”
Luke rolled his eyes but felt his shoulders loosen. The tension he’d carried since last night eased.
Gabe stood up and nudged him back with his elbow, gentler than usual. “We’re okay, yeah?”
Luke nodded. “Yeah. We’re okay.”
Youngjae padded into the kitchen just then with sleepy eyes and damp hair, clearly fresh out of the shower. He froze when he saw the two brothers standing there, facing each other with an awkward sort of softness that definitely hadn’t been there last night.
“Oh,” Young said quietly. “Morning.”
Gabe cleared his throat. “Morning.”
Luke tried to offer a smile, still a bit raw from the conversation but lighter now. “Hey.”
Young glanced between them, reading the room instantly he always did. He shifted his weight, unsure whether he should stay or leave. “Should I… give you guys a minute?”
Gabe surprised them both by shaking his head. “Nah. It’s fine.” Then he gestured vaguely at the coffee pot. “Want some?”
Young blinked. Coming from Gabe, especially after last night, that was practically an olive branch carved out of gold. “Uh, sure,” Young said, scratching the back of his neck. “Thanks.”
He moved to the counter beside them, reaching for an empty mug. Luke watched the way Gabe subtly shifted to make room for him. It was so small, so normal, but after last night it felt huge.
Young poured himself coffee and leaned back against the counter near Luke. Quiet. Polite. Careful.
Gabe sipped from his mug, staring into the steam for a moment before muttering, “Thanks… for last night. For looking out for me.”
Young blinked slowly. He seemed genuinely taken aback. “You don’t have to thank me. You’d do the same for me.”
“Yeah,” Gabe admitted. “I would.”
Luke’s chest tightened at the sincerity in both their voices. Whatever fractures last night had caused, they clearly weren’t irreparable.
Young shot Luke a quick glance, soft and lingering, like he needed reassurance that Luke was alright too. Luke offered a tiny smile back, his cheeks warming just slightly.
Gabe noticed. He gave them a weird look, blinking between them like he couldn’t place what was different, but he didn’t question it. Maybe he was too tired. Maybe he was too hungover. Maybe he was still processing his own mess. Instead, he just nodded toward the table. “You guys want breakfast? Mom’s gone out to pick up pastries.”
Luke made a mental note to: FUCKING RELAX AND STOP STARING AT YOUNGJAE LIKE HE HUNG THE MOON SO IT’S NOT OBVIOUS TO GABE THAT THEY WERE SECRETLY DRY HUMPING.
Young perked up a little. “Croissants?”
“Yeah,” Gabe said, deadpan. “Calm down.”
Luke snorted.
The three of them moved to sit at the table and the kitchen felt gentle. Warm. Peaceful. No shouting. No tension. No broken pieces needing to be picked up. Just Gabe, who was a bit bruised around the edges, Youngjae, still worried but trying, and Luke, sitting between them feeling the fragile beginnings of things healing.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Luke barely slept.
Not because he was scared (though, God, he was) but because his mind wouldn’t stop looping through everything. The years of dysphoria, the fittings for binders, the bruised ribs, the countless mornings staring at a body that didn’t feel like his. And now he was here. Today. The day everything would finally begin to change.
The sky outside was only just starting to lighten when his alarm went off. He sat up instantly, adrenaline already coursing through him.
His chest was bare (he’d slept without his binder for the last few nights, following the pre-op instructions) and even now he resisted the impulse to cover himself with the duvet. But this time, the self-consciousness wasn’t because he hated his chest.
It was because, in less than twelve hours, it would finally be gone.
He swallowed hard and got up.
Downstairs, the smell of toast drifted faintly through the air. His mom always stress-cooked. Luke padded to the bathroom, washed his face, brushed his teeth. Everything was done quietly and carefully, like the morning might shatter if he moved too fast.
When he came downstairs, his parents were already waiting.
Mom looked nervous in that motherly way, fussing with a travel mug she’d filled for him even though he wasn’t allowed to drink anything before surgery. Dad looked more composed, but his eyes were warm, proud.
Then there was Young. He was sitting at the kitchen table, hoodie pulled over messy hair, hands wrapped around a mug he wasn’t actually drinking from. When Luke entered the room, Young’s entire face softened.
“Morning,” he said gently.
Luke exhaled shakily. “Morning.”
“You ready?” Young asked, not in the teasing way he usually said things, but tenderly. Carefully. Like he knew how fragile Luke felt.
Luke nodded, even though he wasn’t sure it was true. He didn’t need to be ready. It was happening anyway.
Gabe clattered in moments later, bleary-eyed but determined to be present. He clapped Luke on the shoulder with a gentleness that didn’t match his usual brute force. “Let’s do this.”
Luke sat, his knee bouncing restlessly. The clock on the microwave ticked the minutes away. His stomach twisted, tight and anxious and excited all at once.
His mom glanced at him, voice soft but firm. “We should leave soon, sweetheart. Traffic might be bad.”
Young stood up immediately, stepping beside Luke. He didn’t touch him (not with the parents and Gabe watching) but his hand hovered close, like a silent promise: I’m here.
Luke swallowed the lump in his throat, grabbed his zip-up hoodie, and nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
The drive felt strangely quiet. No radio. No idle chatter. Just the soft hum of the tyres on the road and the occasional sniffle from his mom.
Young sat in the backseat beside Luke, their hands brushing occasionally on purpose. Every time Luke’s leg began to bounce from nerves, Young would lightly nudge his knee with his own, grounding him without making a scene.
When they reached the surgical centre, Luke’s breath caught. It looked so normal. Clean grey walls, glass doors, a sign that simply read: Chest Reconstruction Surgery – Patient Entrance.
He inhaled slowly. Exhaled shakily.
His dad squeezed his shoulder. “We’re right here, Luke. All day.”
Young stood close. Very, very close. Probably too close. Part of Luke wanted to tell him to take a step back, that Gabe was right here and that Young looked more worried than his own family. But the other part of Luke loved the fact that Youngjae was hovering like this. Young was solid. Quiet. Watchful. And when Luke looked at him, his boyfriend offered him a tiny smile, the soft private one he only ever used with Luke. “You’re okay,” he murmured. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Luke felt his throat tighten.
“Course he is,” Gabe chimed in.
Luke looked over at his brother.
“You got this,” he said sternly. “You’ve been waiting for this, since like, freshman year.”
“It’s been a rough four years,” Luke mumbled.
“But you don’t have to wait anymore,” Gabe said gently.
“But what if—”
“Nothing bad is going to happen, Luke,” Gabe said sternly. “You got this. You’re the bravest person I know. Walk in there with your head held high, alright?”
Luke nodded timidly, then took another shaky breath. After that, he took his first step toward the doors. Toward his real beginning.
The building inside was cooler than Luke had expected. The kind of hospital-cold that seeped into your hands even through your sleeves. The receptionist looked up as he approached the desk, her smile warm and practiced.
His family and Young trailed behind him cautiously.
“Name?” the receptionist asked.
“Luke Davies,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.
She checked something on her computer, nodded, and handed him a clipboard. “You’re right on time. Fill these out and bring them back when you’re done, okay?”
His hands shook slightly as he took the pen.
His dad noticed. “Want me to help with anything?”
Luke shook his head. “I can do it.”
He could. He needed to.
He sat in one of the hard chairs, the kind that squeaked when you moved. Everyone sat near him but kept a respectful space. It was kind of like a silent circle of support rather than a smothering one. Young stayed a little further back, scrolling on his phone, pretending he wasn’t keeping a close eye on Luke. Trying to pretend he was just his brothers best friend and not somebody who Luke wanted to dry jump again.
Luke filled out the forms: medical history, consent, emergency contacts. He hesitated only once, at the section marked Gender. He checked the “Male” box firmly.
After they handed everything back, a nurse in soft blue scrubs called, “Luke Davies?” and he stood.
His legs immediately felt like jelly.
His mom stood too. “We’re right here, sweetheart. We’re not going anywhere.”
Luke nodded, then followed the nurse into a small pre-op room with pale walls and a single bed. She gestured to a chair.
“Before we get you changed, I’m going to ask you a few questions to confirm everything,” she said kindly. “Just answer honestly, and if you’re nervous, that’s completely normal.”
He nodded again.
She checked his wrist, his forms, his weight, his blood pressure. His heart rate was sky-high. “It’ll settle,” she reassured him. “Everyone gets nervous.”
Eventually she handed him a gown and a pair of warm socks.
“You can get changed behind that curtain. Keep your underwear on. When you’re ready, I’ll come back in and get your IV started.”
Luke wordlessly took the gown with shaking hands.
Changing was surreal. Looking down at his chest for what he knew was the last time it would ever look like this made his head swim. The skin he’d always hated. The curves that never belonged to him. The body that felt like a costume he couldn’t take off.
Except today, he finally could.
He put on the gown, tying it tightly over his front, and stepped out.
His parents, his brother and Young had been let into the room now, all sitting in the chairs along the back wall. His mom’s eyes softened when she saw him in the gown, but she didn’t cry. Well, not yet at least. His dad gave a small nod.
Luke exhaled and sat on the bed.
The nurse returned and gently placed an IV in his arm. She explained every step, every fluid, every medication in a calm voice that helped settle him bit by bit.
When she left again, she said, “Your surgeon will be in soon.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Luke stared at his hands in his lap. He wasn’t crying, but he felt close. Not from fear anymore, from the enormity of it all.
His mom edged closer, taking his hand. “Whatever happens today,” she whispered, “we are so proud of you.”
His dad rested a warm hand on his shoulder. “You’re so brave,” he murmured.
“No I’m not,” Luke protested.
“You are,” his dad said. “More than you know.”
“But i’m scared,” Luke admitted, voice cracking. He couldn’t help it when a tear slid down his cheeks. “Sorry that i’m being a big baby about it, but i’m terrified.”
“And that’s okay,” mom said quickly.
Then the door opened again, and his surgeon walked in. She was a tall woman with kind eyes and confident hands. “Good morning, Luke,” she said. “Ready?”
Luke looked up at her, heart pounding, and for the first time since waking up, he let himself smile. A real, scared, hopeful smile. “I’m ready.”
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The surgical theatre wasn’t harsh or terrifying the way Luke had imagined. It was bright and clinical, but the team had warm eyes and soft voices. They moved with a kind of precise choreography that made Luke feel like he was in capable hands.
“Luke,” the anaesthesiologist said, gently attaching electrodes to his chest, “I’m going to give you something that’ll help you relax, alright?”
Luke nodded.
“You’re doing brilliantly,” another nurse added. “Deep breaths.”
The mask came next. It was cool and plasticky, and it was lowered carefully over his nose and mouth.
“It’s just oxygen for now,” the anaesthesiologist said. “When we add the medication, you’ll feel sleepy very quickly. You might think you’re still awake, but trust me, you’ll be in dreamland.”
Luke let out a shaky breath, trying not to panic. “Will it… hurt?”
“No,” she promised. “You’ll drift off before anything begins.”
Someone squeezed his hand. Probably a nurse whose name he’d forgotten.
The anaesthesiologist’s voice softened, growing distant. “Okay. Medication going in now. Just think of something nice. Something that makes you feel safe.”
Something nice.
Something safe.
Luke pictured Youngjae’s long fingers tracing circles over the back of his hand last night when he had snuck into the blue-haired boys room because the older boy had claimed he simply could not fall asleep until they hugged because he was so damn worried. Luke imagined the warmth of him, the certainty in his voice when he’d whispered; I’m right here.
The world narrowed.
His limbs softened.
Everything blurred like melting wax.
Then Luke fell into the deepest, most peaceful sleep of his life.
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡
He came to slowly, as if rising through layers of warm water. His eyes fluttered open to a dim recovery room. Machines beeped. A nurse appeared at his side, smiling softly.
“Hi, Luke. You’re awake.”
Luke blinked. His throat felt dry. His voice cracked. “Was… was it done?”
“All done,” she said warmly. “The surgery went beautifully.”
He tried to move but felt pressure. Not pain, just tightness. Something firm wrapped around his chest.
“Binder?” he croaked.
“No. Compression vest,” she corrected kindly. “Everything is exactly where it should be. Drains are in place. You’ll see your surgeon in a bit.”
Luke let out a small, broken laugh. Relief washed through him, overwhelming and tender. He felt tears slip down the sides of his face.
“It’s okay to cry,” the nurse murmured, wiping them gently. “Lots of people do.”
He wasn’t crying from sadness. He was crying from the realisation that it was done. His chest (the one he’d dreamed of) was there, beneath the bandages and pressure and tape. He wasn’t trapped anymore.
He drifted in and out of sleep until another voice spoke near him, deep and familiar.
“Hey, buddy.”
Luke opened his eyes fully this time. His dad was standing at his bedside. His mom was beside him. Gabe hovered behind them, eyes a little red.
Luke smiled weakly. “Hi.”
His mom leaned in, brushing his hair back tenderly. “You did so well.”
His dad squeezed his hand.
Gabe stepped forward, his voice thick. “You okay?”
Luke nodded wordlessly.
“You need water?” Gabe asked.
Luke shook his head. “Tired.”
“I can imagine,” his brother mumbled.
“The nurses said you may feel a little drowsy for a while. It’s completely normal apparently,” dad said in a voice that told Luke he was trying his best to stay strong and not cry,
Luke nodded, swallowing hard. “Where’s… where’s Youngjae?”
There was a beat of silence.
Gabe frowned. “I asked him to leave”
Luke’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
Gabe looked surprised at the question. “What?” he asked in confusion. “What do you mean? I thought you might be a little, ya know? Awkward about it. That you would want it to just be family. I thought you might want it to just be us when you came out of surgery. Just in case.”
Luke felt something sink in his chest that had nothing to do with stitches or swelling. “Oh,” he whispered.
His mom and dad looked between them, sensing the heaviness.
Gabe softened a little, though his expression stayed firm. “He’s not angry or anything. He understood. Don’t worry. He’s at home.”
Luke looked away, blinking rapidly.
Gabe thought he was doing Luke a kindness, but fuck, it hurt. Luke wanted Youngjae here, and he knew for a fact that Youngjae must have been sat at home worried sick. Luke hated the idea that his brother had sent him away thinking Luke wouldn’t be comfortable with him in here. Luke wanted to yell. To scream that if he could choose anyone, he would have chosen Young to be right here at his bedside. But he couldn’t say that to his brother.
Or could he?
Was it finally time for Luke to reveal to his big brother that he was hopelessly in love with his brothers best friend? Because Luke was. He knew that. He knew it wasn’t just a fleeting crush, or an infatuation, or an obsession.
Luke was in love.
Fuck, Luke was in love with Youngjae.
Luke was in love with Youngjae and Gabe needed to know.
Luke’s lips parted. His heartbeat thudded painfully beneath the compression vest. He looked at Gabe, at the big, worried, oblivious idiot who he loved more than anything, and the words began to form. “Gabe, I… there’s something I need to talk to you about. About—”
“Luke.” His dad’s voice was firm. Not loud, but sharp enough to slice clean through the air.
Luke froze.
His father held his gaze meaningfully, a calm warning in his eyes. Not now. Not with Luke still raw from surgery. Not with emotions this fragile. Not in a sterile post-op room with monitors beeping softly and his chest wrapped in fresh bandages.
Luke swallowed hard.
Gabe looked between them, utterly confused. “What? What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Luke said quickly, forcing his voice steady. His dad’s stare didn’t waver, steadying him like an anchor. “I just… wanted to say thank you. For being here.”
Gabe’s confusion melted into relief. “Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks going pink. “Yeah, well. Of course. I’m your brother.”
Luke nodded, looking down at his hands, feeling the sting behind his eyes grow dangerous.
His mom squeezed his shoulder gently, mistaking his trembling for pain. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. Breathe.”
Luke did.
But what he wanted was Youngjae’s hand. Youngjae’s voice. Youngjae’s stupid, soft, grounding presence.
His dad sat on the edge of the bed, voice low enough for only Luke to hear. “We’ll talk when you’re stronger, okay?”
Luke nodded faintly.
Because right now, the truth sat in his chest warmer than the painkillers and heavier than the bandages: He wanted Youngjae, not as a secret, not as a mistake, not as a fantasy. He wanted him as his actual out and proud boyfriend.
And Gabe… Gabe had no idea.
authors note: I have no idea how top surgery works—I just did a bunch of research and watched a shit load of youtube videos and I tried my best. It is what it is! Hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope you know what’s coming LOL
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