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It was a couple of days later, late afternoon, warm light angling through the tiny basement window. Gabe was out on another date with Maddy, Luke’s parents had gone grocery shopping, and for once the house was blissfully and dangerously quiet.
Luke was sprawled across Youngjae’s bed in the basement. Well, Young’s “temporary room,” as his mom kept calling it. The laptop was open somewhere near their legs, but the film was long forgotten. Youngjae’s mouth was much more interesting.
Luke lay half on his back, half twisted toward Young, one hand fisted in the front of Young’s T-shirt, the other cupped around the older boy’s jaw as they kissed lazily, messily, slowly losing the plot of whatever movie Luke had pretended they were going to watch.
Youngjae was pressed against him sideways, elbow propped on the mattress, one knee slotted between Luke’s thighs, kissing him with a warmth that made Luke’s toes curl. His hand drifted under the hem of Luke’s hoodie, palm splaying over the flat plane of Luke’s stomach. It was as far as Luke allowed for now, and his hands were careful and gentle. Luke made a tiny noise against Young’s mouth, equal parts content and needy.
“You’re not watching the movie,” Young murmured against his lips, smiling.
Luke tugged him back down by the collar. “Neither are you.”
Young laughed softly, kissing the corner of Luke’s mouth before deepening it again with his tongue. Luke tasted popcorn and mint toothpaste and something that was just Youngjae and his chest fluttered so violently he almost kicked his legs.
Christ. He was useless around this boy.
Their kisses slowed eventually, turning soft, then lingering. Young hummed, thumb stroking along Luke’s jaw as he rested their foreheads together. “If Gabe ever finds out we use the basement like this,” Luke murmured breathlessly, “he’ll actually murder me.”
Young smirked. “He’ll try. I’ll protect my boyfriend.”
“You’re such a show-off.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
Young kissed him again, smaller this time. Adoring. The kind that made Luke’s stomach swoop embarrassingly hard. They shifted, trying to find a less neck-cramping angle, and Luke ended up half lying on Young’s chest, fingers idly playing with the hem of his shirt. Young idly toyed with Luke’s hair with one hand while the other traced shapes against Luke’s hoodie.
For a blissful moment, nothing in the world existed except their breathing, the faint buzz of Luke’s laptop, and the warmth of Youngjae’s hands.
Then Luke sighed.
“Something’s on your mind,” Young murmured immediately.
Luke hesitated. “I hate not being able to be with you properly.”
Young’s fingers paused in his hair.
Luke pushed himself up on an elbow, suddenly restless. “We always have to hide. Or sneak. Or pretend we’re just hanging out. And I get why. I do. But I hate that we can never just… be.”
“I know. I hate it too.” He cupped Luke’s cheek. “We’ll tell him,” he said. “Soon. I promise.”
Luke looked down at Young’s T-shirt to avoid the intensity in his eyes. “You said that before.”
“And I meant it before,” Young replied firmly. “I just want the timing to be right. I don’t want anything to blow up before we move to Boston.”
Luke swallowed hard. Young always had reasons. Good ones. Rational ones. But it didn’t make the ache go away. “I miss you,” he whispered, even though Young was literally right underneath him in that very second.
Young reached up, slid a hand behind Luke’s neck. “I’m right here.”
Luke closed his eyes. “Stay like this for a while?”
“I can do that,” Young murmured. And he wrapped both arms around Luke, holding him against his chest as the forgotten film played quietly in the background.
Luke continued to lay half on top of him, lips brushing Youngjae’s throat in slow, lingering kisses that made the older boy shiver. He could feel Young smiling beneath him, could feel the rise and fall of his chest, could feel that steady, warm heartbeat under his palm. And all Luke could think, breathless and stupidly hopeful, was:
Boston. Boston. Boston.
Boston meant he could walk down a street holding Youngjae’s hand. Boston meant no pretending, no sneaking, no darting apart every time Gabe walked into a room. Boston meant he could kiss Youngjae outside a party, not in cupboards or stairwells or basements.
It meant he could be Youngjae’s boyfriend properly.
Luke kissed his throat harder, the thought sparking something hot and overwhelming in his chest. He tugged up the hem of Young’s shirt, wanting skin, pressing a trail of kisses across Young’s warm stomach. Young arched a little, laughing breathlessly as Luke’s mouth wandered dangerously close to his waistband.
“Jesus, Luke,” he murmured, voice going soft. “You ever not horny?”
Luke smirked against his skin and nipped lightly. “Not when it comes to you.”
Young groaned, tipping his head back against the pillow, hands sliding into Luke’s hair like he couldn’t help himself.
After a moment, Young stilled just slightly. “Luke?” he asked, voice suddenly quieter.
Luke blinked up. “Yeah?”
Young’s throat bobbed. “Can I…?” He gestured vaguely, eyes flickering down to Luke’s torso before jerking away again. “I mean, only if you want. I just… I wanna see you.”
Luke froze.
Not out of fear (well, a little fear) but mostly because of what Young’s face looked like. Nervous. Hopeful. Soft. Luke’s breathing hitched. His scars were still healing, still pink and raised in places, still tight when he stretched. He hadn’t taken his shirt off in front of anyone yet, not even Eli who had begged to peek in a silly, supportive way.
Young would be the first.
Luke sat up slowly, straddling Young’s thighs, fingers trembling slightly as he reached for the hem of his hoodie. Young sat up too, immediately placing his hands gently on Luke’s hips, like he knew Luke’s heart was sprinting.
“You don’t have to,” Young said softly. “Really. I won’t be upset.”
“I know,” Luke whispered.
But Luke wanted to.
He really, really, did.
He tugged his hoodie over his head, then hesitated with his T-shirt. Young waited. Didn’t rush him. Didn’t look away either, just looked at Luke like he was something precious. Luke exhaled shakily and lifted the T-shirt up slowly. The fabric slid up, exposing the flat plane of his chest. It was still bruised in places and swollen along the horizontal scars, but it looked much better than it did over a month ago.
Young’s hand came up slowly, stopping just shy of touching. His eyes went wide and glassy almost with something Luke didn’t recognise at first. Then he understood: Awe. Real, raw awe.
“Shit,” Young breathed. “You look… you look fucking good.”
Luke felt his cheeks burn. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” Young whispered, finally letting his fingertips ghost along the edges of Luke’s ribs, never once touching near the scars unless Luke guided him. “You’re… God, you’re beautiful.”
Luke’s breath stuttered. For the first time since surgery, he didn’t flinch. Didn’t curl in on himself. Didn’t feel exposed or fragile. He felt seen. Properly seen. Young leaned in and pressed a slow, gentle kiss just above one of the scars, close enough to honour it and far enough not to hurt. Luke closed his eyes, trembling.
“Gamsahabnida (thank you),” he whispered.
Young looked up at him, shocked. “Was that Korean?”
Luke’s face heated up. “Did I say it wrong? I’ve downloaded Duolingo.”
Youngjae let out a short laugh. “What the fuck? Why?”
“So I can speak to you in your own language,” Luke mumbled shyly.
Young’s face lit up. “Jesus, you’re fucking cute.”
“Shut up.”
“But what are you thanking me for?”
“For… seeing me,” Luke murmured, voice cracking slightly. “Like this.”
Young slid a hand up Luke’s back, pulling him close until Luke was tucked against him, shirt half off, chest against Young’s warmth. “I’ve always seen you,” Young said softly into his hair. “This is just the first time you’re letting me touch and feel and kiss.”
Luke’s throat tightened. Then he kissed him, slow, deep and shivery, until they were both breathless and trembling, their hearts hammering in the same frantic rhythm. Luke didn’t feel scared. He felt whole.
Luke barely had time to register the way Youngjae’s hands were sliding tenderly along his waist, barely had time to breathe in the warmth and closeness of it, before he was suddenly wrenched backwards. A hand clamped around the back of his hoodie, jerking him clean off Youngjae with such force that Luke yelped, stumbling as the world spun.
“What—?” he gasped, but the word barely left his mouth before his brother had already launched himself forward.
Youngjae didn’t even rise from the bed. He didn’t get the chance. Gabe pounced, knocking Young back into the mattress so hard the bedframe groaned. Fists flew, wild and furious, blind with rage, and the sound of knuckles hitting skin echoed through the basement like a crack of lightning.
“Don’t you touch my brother!” Gabe roared, each word punctuated with another brutal swing.
“Gabe, stop!” Luke’s voice tore out of him, high and terrified.
But Gabe didn’t stop.
And Luke noticed something even worse than his brothers violence. He noticed that Youngjae didn’t fight back, not once. He didn’t lift his hands, didn’t swing, didn’t shove. He made no move to defend himself. He only curled slightly, trying to shield his face, his forearms absorbing the blows, and still Gabe kept hitting him.
“Gabe! Fucking stop!” Luke screamed again, darting forward, trying to grab Gabe’s arm, his shoulder, anything. Anything to get him off. “Gabe! Please!”
But Gabe shoved him off without looking, eyes locked on Young with a murderous intensity Luke had only ever seen once before—in the living room at Luke’s graduation. But no. This was worse. This was much worse. And Youngjae was just taking it.
“Fight back!” Luke shouted helplessly. “Young, fight back!”
“I’m not—” Young gasped as Gabe’s fist hit his ribs again. “—hurting him—”
That sentence, broken and breathless, did something catastrophic inside Luke.
“Gabe!” Luke screamed again, voice cracking. “Stop before you seriously hurt him!”
Gabe didn’t hear him. Or couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.
Something inside Luke snapped. He surged forward, grabbed the back of Gabe’s neck with both hands and yanked him off Young with every ounce of strength he had. Gabe stumbled back, shocked by the force, and Luke planted himself between them, chest heaving, arms flung out defensively.
“That’s enough!” Luke roared, voice shaking with fury he didn’t know he had. “Stop it! Just stop it! What the fuck is wrong with you? Just fucking stop!”
Gabe froze, his beath ragged, and his fists still clenched, chest rising and falling like he’d run miles. He finally looked at Luke’s face. Really looked. Saw the sheer terror there. “Luke—” Gabe panted, still shaking, “he…he was…what the fuck was he—”
“We’re together!” Luke screamed.
The basement went dead silent.
Gabe’s eyes widened. Shock, confusion, betrayal all hit him at once. He staggered back a step like the words had physically shoved him.
Young, bruised and panting on the bed, lifted his gaze. There was blood at the corner of his lip, and his jaw was already swelling, but his eyes locked on Luke first. Not Gabe. Luke.
Luke didn’t look away from Gabe. He stood shaking, but he held his ground.
“We’re together,” he repeated, quieter this time but unshakable. “I love him. And he loves me. And you can’t—” his voice wavered “—you can’t beat the shit out of him for that.”
Gabe just stared.
Young whispered, voice hoarse, “Luke…”
But Luke didn’t turn around. He kept his eyes trained on his big brother and waited for the explosion, or for the heartbreak, or for the moment everything shattered like glass. It was coming. He knew it was. He could see it on Gabe’s face.
Youngjae slowly pushed himself upright, wincing as he braced a trembling hand on the mattress. He didn’t stand. Not with Gabe in this state. Instead he shuffled back until his shoulders met the wall, legs drawn in slightly, breathing uneven. The bruises were already blooming across his cheekbone, his bottom lip split and wet with blood. Even hurt, even cornered, he made no move to defend himself.
But Gabe didn’t look at him. Not at first. Gabe’s furious and completely disbelieving eyes were locked entirely on Luke. “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded, voice low and dangerous. “Together? What the fuck does that mean?”
Luke swallowed hard but didn’t back down. “It means exactly what it sounds like,” he said, forcing the words out. “I wanted to tell you. I did. I just… I didn’t know how. Not after everything lately. Not after seeing how stressed you’ve been.”
Gabe looked betrayed. Not angry. Betrayed. Betrayed in a way Luke had never seen before. His mouth opened like he wanted to yell, but nothing came out. And then his gaze slowly and dangerously shifted. He finally looked at Youngjae. Luke felt the air leave the room. Gabe’s jaw tightened. His voice turned cold, cutting, lethal. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Young flinched at the tone, but held Gabe’s stare, even from the floor. “Gabe—”
“No,” Gabe snapped, taking a threatening step forward. “You stay the fuck away from him.”
“Gabe—” Luke tried.
But Gabe’s rage flooded out like a tidal wave. “You’ve known him since he was fourteen, Youngjae.” His voice cracked with fury. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you—why would you touch him like that? Why would you go after a kid you watched grow up? What kind of sick shit—”
“Stop!” Luke’s scream ripped raw from his throat. “Stop it, that’s not what happened!”
Gabe didn’t even look at him. He took another step toward Young, fists clenched again. “You’re supposed to be like his older brother,” Gabe snarled. “You were supposed to look out for him, not—not groom him—”
“Gabriel!” Luke’s voice broke like glass. “You don’t get to say that!”
That finally made Gabe jerk his gaze back to him.
Luke shook his head, hard, tears stinging at his eyes. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t go after me. I went after him. I was the one who wanted this so fucking badly. He tried to put an end to it and I didn’t let him, okay? I kept crawling back because I wanted him. I…I needed him. So don’t you dare put this on him.”
Gabe’s face twisted into hurt, confusion and disbelief. “Luke, he’s older. He should’ve said no. He should’ve—”
“He did,” Luke shot back. “Multiple times. You think this just happened overnight?” He pointed at himself, breath coming out fast and uneven. “I’m eighteen, Gabe. I’m not a child. I know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t,” Gabe said through gritted teeth. “You think you do, but you don’t.”
“I know who I love.”
Gabe flinched like the words were a physical blow.
Youngjae’s breath caught audibly behind them.
Luke pressed on, chest tight. “I love him. And he loves me. That’s what this is.”
Gabe’s eyes flicked between them, frantic, devastated and furious all at once. “You’re my brother,” he said, voice cracking. “I can’t—I can’t just let this happen. Not with him. Not after everything. Luke, he’s—”
“He’s the one who’s been here for me,” Luke whimpered. “Even when I didn’t know how to ask. Even when I didn’t know what I wanted. He’s been here.”
Gabe looked like he’d been punched.
“And it wasn’t grooming,” Luke said firmly, wiping angrily at a tear. “It wasn’t manipulation. It wasn’t anything bad. It’s just us.”
Gabe still didn’t look at Young.
Young didn’t speak.
The room was thick with tension, pain and confusion—so much hurt it felt suffocating. And Luke knew, with a sinking heaviness, that this was far from over.
Gabe’s chest rose and fell in fast, uneven breaths. He looked like someone trying to assemble the pieces of a puzzle that kept changing shape in his hands. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and whispered, almost to himself, “I… I just don’t get it. I don’t—” His eyes lifted suddenly, sharp and searching. “Does anyone else know?”
Luke froze.
That tiny half-second of hesitation was all it took.
Gabe’s face drained. “Luke,” he warned, voice dangerously thin. “Who else knows?”
Luke swallowed hard. He wished he could lie. He wished he could protect everyone. But the truth was already clawing its way out of him, and Gabe wasn’t the type to let it go. “Eli and Nate,” Luke said quietly. “They know.”
Gabe exhaled sharply, jaw tightening as if he’d been expecting that. “Fine. They’re your friends. Whatever.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “Who else?”
Luke wished the floor would swallow him whole. He wished he didn’t have to say it. “…Dad.”
The word was barely more than a whisper, but the effect was immediate and catastrophic. Gabe’s entire expression shattered. “What?” he breathed.
Luke’s stomach twisted painfully. “Gabe—”
“No.” Gabe held up a hand, shaking. “No, no, no. You’re telling me Dad knew. Dad knew. And he didn’t say anything? He didn’t tell me?”
“Gabe, please.”
Gabe let out a loud, wet laugh that had nothing to do with humour. It was a broken sound. “Of course. Of fucking course.” He staggered back a step, like the revelation had physically knocked him off balance. “Everyone knows but me. Everyone.” His gaze flicked toward Youngjae, then to Luke, then to the door, like he didn’t know where to look or who to blame.
“Gabe,” Luke tried, voice cracking. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
“Yeah?” Gabe snapped, voice rising, pain bleeding through every syllable. “How was I supposed to find out, Luke? Huh? After you two moved in together in Boston? After you’d been doing this under my nose for months? After he—” Gabe gestured wildly toward Youngjae, unable to finish the sentence. His voice shook with emotion. “I’m your brother. I’m supposed to look out for you.”
“You are,” Luke insisted desperately. “You always have.”
“Really?” Gabe barked. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. Dad knew. Dad knew, and didn’t tell me.” His voice broke again. “Why wouldn’t he tell me?”
Luke had no answer. He couldn’t tell Gabe that Dad kept quiet because Luke begged him to. He couldn’t tell him that Young didn’t fight back earlier because he truly believed he deserved Gabe’s anger. He couldn’t tell him any of it. So he just stood there helplessly as Gabe’s world cracked open right in front of him. Youngjae sat rigid against the wall, bruised and silent, watching Gabe unravel.
Gabe pressed his palms to his eyes, trying and failing to keep himself together. “I’m your brother,” he said again, voice soft now, almost childlike. “Why am I the last to know? Why does everyone else get to know before me?”
Luke took a small step forward, aching to bridge the distance. “Because I was scared,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Gabe lifted his head, eyes red, hurt pouring out of him in waves. “Well,” he said quietly, voice cracking, “too late.”
Luke took another shaky step toward Gabe, who refused to look at him, jaw clenched so tight it trembled. “Gabe,” Luke pleaded softly. “Please. You have to understand… this isn’t some random crush. It isn’t a phase. It isn’t something I’m confused about.” His breath hitched. “I’m in love with him. Properly. Deeply. I’ve never felt anything like this for anyone.”
Gabe didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.
Luke felt something crack inside him. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice rising, desperation leaking through every word. “He makes me happy. He makes me feel seen. Safe. Wanted. Do you have any idea what that means after—after everything? After the shit I went through with Noah? After how long I hated myself for shit I couldn’t control? Young doesn’t make me feel small. He never has.”
A muscle in Gabe’s jaw twitched, but still, he said nothing.
Luke’s eyes burned. “Why can’t you just care that I’m happy? Why does everything have to come back to you protecting me? I’m not a kid anymore!”
“Don’t,” Gabe muttered, turning away.
“No,” Luke snapped, anger surging up like wildfire. “You don’t get to shut down on me right now. You don’t get to act like the victim when you just beat the shit out of him!”
Gabe’s fists clenched at his sides. “Luke—”
“No!” Luke’s voice shook with emotion, tears blurring the room. “I need the truth. Not some fake protective big brother bullshit. The truth.”
Gabe finally turned, eyes dark and wounded. “What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to tell me,” Luke pressed, stepping closer, “the real reason you’re so against this. Because you love Young. You trust him. You two are inseparable. You always said he was like family and now suddenly you think he’s some predator or something?” His voice cracked. “What changed, Gabe? What the hell changed?”
Gabe’s face contorted, something raw and painful slipping through the cracks of his anger.
Luke’s voice softened, trembling. “I thought… I thought you liked him. I thought… maybe you’d be happy that the guy I fell for was someone you already cared about. Someone good.”
Gabe let out an agonised breath. “That’s the problem.”
Luke blinked. “What?”
Gabe looked up, eyes full of something Luke couldn’t read. “I do love him,” he said hoarsely. “He’s my best friend. He’s been the closest thing to a brother I’ve ever had.”
Luke’s lips parted in confusion, but Gabe barreled on.
“And now what?” Gabe asked, voice cracking. “Now I’m supposed to sit here and just watch while my best friend—my brother—starts dating my actual brother? I’m supposed to what? Pretend it doesn’t change everything? Pretend it doesn’t make things fucking weird between us? Pretend I’m not terrified of losing both of you if this goes wrong?”
Luke froze.
Gabe’s chest heaved. “I’m scared, Luke. Okay? I’m scared shitless. Because you’re the two people I love most in this world and if either of you gets hurt, or fucks this up, or breaks the other…where does that leave me? Where does that leave our family?”
Silence fell. Thick. Heavy. Trembling. Luke could see the fear on Gabe’s face. Genuine, gut-deep fear. The kind only family could cause.
Luke took a slow breath, his heart pounding. “Gabe…” he whispered.
“I can’t do this shit right now,” Gabe said before he shook his head, turned on his heel and walked out of the basement.
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