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The house had never felt heavier.
Luke had lived through tension before. Slammed doors, mumbled arguments, teenage hormones, Gabe’s dramatic phases. But nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to the suffocating, fractured silence that swallowed every corner of their home after the fight.
Youngjae had all but vanished into the basement. Luke heard him, sometimes. Heard the soft creak of floorboards or the low hum of a kettle switching off, but he barely saw him. Young avoided the kitchen unless he was certain it was empty. He timed his comings and goings with military precision. Once or twice, Luke caught a glimpse of him slipping out the front door at sunrise or returning long after Luke had gone to bed. He didn’t know where Young went during the day. Coffee shops. Parks. Bookstores. Anywhere that wasn’t this house. Anywhere that wasn’t near Gabe.
And Gabe… Gabe had thrown himself into avoidance with the same intensity he once reserved for lacrosse drills. His bedroom door stayed shut, heavy metal blasting loud enough that the walls trembled. If it wasn’t the music, it was the silence. The telling, punishing silence that meant Gabe wasn’t home at all. Luke would come downstairs at 2am for water and realise the front door was still unlocked, his car still gone, his shoes still missing.
He probably stayed at Maddy’s. Luke didn’t ask. He couldn’t.
Meals became strange, half-empty rituals. Dad cooked and mom tried to keep up cheerful conversation as the three of them sat at the table. Luke felt like an intruder in his own house, stranded between two boys who refused to even be on the same floor as each other.
By the fifth day, even his parents couldn’t pretend everything was fine.
It happened on a Thursday evening. Luke had just set his phone down after another failed attempt to text Young when he heard footsteps outside his bedroom. He froze when the door opened without a knock.
Mom stepped inside first, her expression soft but determined. Dad followed, shutting the door behind them. The seriousness on his face made Luke’s stomach twist.
“Sweetheart,” Mom said, sitting at the edge of his bed. “We need to talk.”
Luke stiffened immediately. “About what?”
Dad pulled out his desk chair and sat, elbows on his knees. “About what’s been going on in this house.”
Luke’s heart dropped. “Nothing’s going on.”
“Luke,” Dad said gently, “your brother is acting like a stranger, and Youngjae looks like he’d rather crawl into the walls than be here. And you…” His eyes softened. “You look like you’re carrying something far too heavy.”
Mom reached for his hand. “Please tell us what happened. We’re worried about all of you.”
The room blurred. Luke opened his mouth to finally speak and explain what had gone on, but what came out wasn’t words. It was a sob. The kind that ripped straight from his chest before he could stop it. He curled in on himself as tears spilled down his cheeks, hot and uncontrollable. Mom immediately pulled him into her arms, and Dad moved closer, rubbing Luke’s back in slow circles.
“I’m sorry,” Luke choked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for everything to get so messed up.”
“What happened?” Mom whispered, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Talk to us, darling.”
Luke squeezed his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath. He’d been holding it inside for too long—the guilt, the fear, the love, the heartbreak of watching two of the people he cared about most tear apart because of him. “It’s my fault,” he whispered. “All of it. It’s all my fault.”
Dad frowned. “How?”
Luke swallowed hard and forced himself to look at them. If he couldn’t tell them, who could he tell? “I know you both know that I’m… I’m in a relationship with Youngjae.”
Silence. Not shocked silence, but a heavy and stunned one.
“I’ve been seeing him for months,” Luke continued, voice thin. “We didn’t tell Gabe because we wanted to wait until college stuff was sorted. And then everything went wrong when Gabe walked in on us last week and—” His voice cracked again. “And he thinks Young’s taking advantage of me, and he won’t talk to me, and Young won’t talk to him, and I feel like I’ve ruined everything.”
Mom’s grip tightened around him. “Oh, Luke. It’s okay, sweetheart.”
Luke sniffled, shaking his head. “Gabe hates me. And probably Young too. They both haven’t talked to me properly in days. I don’t know how to fix it.”
Dad sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Your brother doesn’t hate you. He’s confused. He’s scared. And he’s reacting badly because he doesn’t know what else to do.”
“He beat him up,” Luke rasped. “How am I supposed to forgive that?”
Dad’s expression tightened. “That’s something Gabe will have to answer for. And he will.”
Mom kissed Luke’s temple. “We’ll sort this out.”
Luke clung to her, exhausted.
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By the next night, Luke felt like he was vibrating out of his own skin. He’d spent the entire evening pacing slow, anxious circles across his bedroom floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. His nerves were a storm beneath his ribs, restless and uncontainable. Every small sound downstairs made him freeze. Every passing car made him hope. Every minute that slipped by without the door opening tightened something painful in his chest.
He needed to talk to someone. Gabe or Youngjae. Either one of them would do. Just one conversation to break the horrible, suffocating silence.
By the time the digital clock on his bedside table blinked 1:02am, Luke was practically shaking.
And then finally…The front door opened.
Luke’s whole heart jumped. He didn’t even stop to think. He sprinted for the stairs, barely remembering to tread lightly so he wouldn’t wake his parents. He took the steps two at a time, breath caught in his throat, and turned the corner into the hallway and froze.
Youngjae was standing in the dim glow of the entryway lamp, keys still in hand, jacket slung over his shoulder. His hair was wind-tousled like he’d been walking for hours. His eyes were tired. Bruised with worry. When he looked up and saw Luke standing there on the stairs, he jolted slightly.
“Jesus, Luke,” Young breathed. His voice was soft, startled. “You scared me.”
Luke didn’t move from the last step. His chest rose and fell too fast. “Sorry. I… I heard the door.”
Young blinked, his expression shifting into something unreadable. “You were waiting?”
Luke nodded.
And God, if Youngjae didn’t look absolutely wrecked by that. His shoulders sagged, his jaw tightening as if he had to swallow something heavy.
“I thought you were Gabe,” Luke whispered. “I kinda hoped you were Gabe, but now I’m glad it’s you.”
Young shut the door quietly behind him, turning the lock with slow, careful fingers. He still hadn’t moved any closer. Luke could see the tension in the way he held himself, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to step forward. “You shouldn’t be up,” Young murmured, softer now. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I don’t care,” Luke said. And it came out with more desperation than he meant.
Young exhaled, long and shaky.
“What happened?” Luke asked. “Where were you?”
Young hesitated. His eyes flickered away, toward the living room, toward the darkened hallway. “Walking,” he said quietly. “Just… walking. Couldn’t be here. Not when things are like this.”
Luke descended the remaining steps slowly, his heart in his throat. When he reached the bottom, there were only a few feet between them. It was too close, but not close enough. “You could have told me,” Luke whispered.
Young laughed under his breath, bitter and tired. “Tell you what? That Gabe won’t look at me? That I feel like I’m destroying your family just by breathing in this house?”
“You’re not,” Luke said quickly. “You’re not.”
Young’s eyes met his then and Luke felt winded by how much pain sat there, how much guilt, how much longing. “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Young admitted. “I didn’t want to make it worse for you.”
“That’s not your call,” Luke whispered. His voice cracked. “Youngjae, I haven’t seen you properly in days. I thought—” His breath hitched. “I thought maybe you regretted everything.”
Young’s face crumpled at the edges, like someone had punched the air out of him. “Never,” he said. “Not once. Not for a second.”
Luke’s throat tightened.
Young took a cautious step closer. “Come here.”
Luke didn’t wait for a second invitation. He crossed the space in two shaky steps and fell into Young’s chest, his hands clutching at his shirt. Young wrapped his arms around him instantly, holding him tight—tighter than he had in weeks. Luke pressed his face into Young’s neck, breathing him in.
Young exhaled shakily against his hair. “God, I missed you. I’m sorry.”
Luke nodded against him. His fingers curled into Young’s sweater. “Please don’t disappear again.”
Young’s voice cracked on the reply. “I won’t. Not unless you tell me to.”
Luke pulled back just enough to look up at him. “I won’t. Never.”
Young brushed Luke’s cheekbone with his thumb, tender and aching. “Okay. Then I’m here.”
Luke swallowed hard. “Can we talk? Please?”
Young nodded. “Yeah.”
They slipped into the darkened living room, Youngjae pulling Luke gently by the hand. The only light came from the streetlamps bleeding faintly through the curtains, painting soft gold across the furniture. Young let go only when they reached the couch, and even then he stayed close. They sat down, their knees touching.
For a moment neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just heavy. Loaded. Luke’s fingers twitched uselessly in his lap before he finally found the courage to break it.
“Gabe thinks you… groomed me.”
Young flinched. It was small, barely there, but Luke felt it. Saw it. Like the word itself was a knife.
“Yeah,” Young said eventually, his voice thin. “I know. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. The way he said it. It kinda…made me realise something.”
“What?”
“Maybe he’s right.”
Luke turned to him sharply. “What!?”
Young breathed out through his nose, long and shaky. His shoulders slumped. “Luke… you’re eighteen. I’m twenty.” He paused. “And I know that’s not a big gap now, and I know you don’t see it that way, but… when you were younger? When you were still figuring yourself out? I didn’t want to blur the lines. I didn’t want to take advantage of you accidentally.”
Luke’s stomach dropped. “Young… no.”
He reached for Young’s hand without thinking, threading their fingers. Young looked down at the contact like he wasn’t sure he deserved it.
“I didn’t tell you how I felt,” Young continued quietly, “because the last thing I ever wanted was for you to look at me and wonder if I crossed a line. I didn’t want Gabe thinking it either. Or your parents. Or anyone. I wanted to protect you, not—”
“Stop,” Luke whispered, squeezing his hand tight. “Please stop.”
Young swallowed, his jaw trembling in a way that broke Luke’s heart.
“You never took advantage of me,” Luke said firmly.
Young looked away, unconvinced.
“You didn’t,” Luke repeated, leaning closer. “Young, I kissed you first on New Year’s Eve too. I went after you. Half the time I was the one dragging us into these messy conversations because I didn’t know what I wanted. And you—” Luke’s voice wobbled. “You were the one putting on the brakes. Every single time.”
Young said nothing.
“That’s not grooming,” Luke said softly. “That’s you being good. And patient. And scared in all the right ways.”
Young let out this small, broken laugh, like he didn’t know whether to cry or pull Luke into his lap.
“The two-year age gap doesn’t mean anything,” Luke added, gently pressing their foreheads together. “Seriously. You’re not ten years older. You’re not my teacher. You’re not some stranger I met online. You’re just… my brothers best friend.” His thumb brushed Young’s cheek. “You’re the boy I fell in love with.”
Young’s eyes fluttered shut. “Luke…”
“You waited until I was ready,” Luke whispered. “You waited until you were ready. And we’re both adults now. We get to choose this.”
Young opened his eyes again, and they glimmered with something raw and vulnerable. “I just never want to hurt you,” he said.
“You won’t,” Luke promised. “Not by loving me.”
Young exhaled shakily, leaning into Luke’s touch as if it anchored him. They stayed like that for a moment, breathing the same air, holding each other gently, letting the world outside settle into silence.
Then Young murmured, “I wish Gabe could understand it the way you do.”
Luke’s chest squeezed. “He will,” he said. “Eventually. But even if it takes him time… I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”
Young brushed a kiss against Luke’s forehead, slow and tender. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“For disappearing?” Luke huffed. “You should be. I was worried sick about you.”
Young looked sheepish.
Luke gently smacked his arm. “Asshole.”
Young rubbed his arm dramatically. “Ow. Abusive boyfriend.”
Luke scoffed. “Please. You’ve had harder hits from your dumb lacrosse buddies.”
“Those guys are brutal,” Young protested, straightening up. “Nearly take me out everytime.”
Luke rolled his eyes but the faint smile tugging at his mouth was real. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it,” Young shot back, nudging him gently with his shoulder.
Luke nudged back. “Unfortunately.”
Young snorted. “Wow. Romance is alive and well.”
Luke opened his mouth to retort, but Young’s expression shifted just slightly. A shadow passed over his face. He stopped leaning into Luke. Pulled back the tiniest bit. Luke felt it immediately. The drop in temperature. The shift in air.
“What?” Luke asked slowly, already dreading the answer.
Young hesitated. Then sighed. “I was actually thinking… maybe I should go back to Boston early.”
Luke blinked. “What? Why?”
“Not in a bad way,” Young said quickly, hands lifting in something like defence. “Just to give your family some space. And, well, Gabe. Let him cool off. He clearly doesn’t want me around right now, and I don’t want to make things worse by being under the same roof as him.”
Luke’s stomach twisted painfully. “But you’re not making things worse.”
Young gave him a soft, tired look. “You saw the way he looked at me, Luke.”
Luke swallowed, heat pricking the back of his eyes. “He’ll get over it.”
“Maybe,” Young murmured. “But right now? I think it’s better if I’m not in his face.”
Luke shook his head. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I know.” Young’s voice gentled. “And believe me, the last thing I want is to leave you like this. But Gabe needs space, and you need him to come around. You said it yourself, family matters.”
“But you matter too,” Luke whispered.
Young’s expression softened painfully. He cupped Luke’s cheek briefly, thumb brushing the skin just once, barely there but enough to make Luke lean into it. “Look, college starts in a few weeks anyway. It’s not that far away. I’ll be in Boston already, and I can help you unpack all your things and help you move into your new dorm. I promise.”
Luke’s throat tightened. “That’s not the same. We were supposed to spend this summer together.”
“I know. I know, Luke. But there will be other Summers,” Young said firmly. “But right now I’m just making everything worse by being here. For him… and for you.”
Luke shook his head again, stubbornly. “That’s not true.”
Young gave a sad smile. “If I stay, he’ll keep thinking I’m the problem. Maybe if I go… he’ll calm down, and you two can talk properly.”
Luke pulled his knees up slightly, curling in on himself. “It just sucks.”
Young leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Luke’s, their breaths mingling, the closeness both soothing and heartbreakingly fragile. “I don’t want to go,” he whispered. “But I think I should.”
Luke squeezed his eyes shut. “Just… not tonight, right? You won’t leave you?”
Young shook his head. “No. Not tonight. It’s late. I’ll get some sleep and leave first thing in the morning.”
“What??”
“It’s for the best,” Young said.
“But—”
Young kissed him quickly, knowing Luke was about to spiral. “It’s for the best, nae sarang (my love). I’ll be waiting for you over there. I promise.”
Luke exhaled shakily and rested against him, letting Young hold him just for now. Because soon, too soon, the house would feel empty again.
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Saying goodbye to Youngjae the next morning was rough.
His boyfriend was already in the hallway when Luke came down the stairs. The morning light filtered through the curtain while Luke felt like he was being pulled apart from the inside out. Young stood at the front door with a backpack slung over one shoulder and a small suitcase at his feet. His hair was messy, freshly washed but unstyled, and he looked entirely like someone who hadn’t slept a minute.
Luke stopped halfway down the stairs.
Young looked up.
The two of them just stared for a moment, neither speaking, neither breathing properly.
“You’re really going,” Luke whispered.
Young nodded slowly, guilt written across every line of his face. “I told you I would.”
“You really don’t have to do it today.”
Young dropped his gaze. “I know, but if I stay any longer, I won’t leave at all.”
Luke’s throat tightened so sharply it almost hurt. He came the rest of the way down the stairs, barefoot, jumper sleeves pulled over his hands like he was trying to make himself smaller.
“Did you talk to my parents?” Luke asked, even though he already knew the answer.
Young shook his head. “No. They’ll ask questions I don’t want to answer.”
Luke’s eyes stung. “So I’m the one who has to tell them you’re gone?”
Young winced. “I’m sorry. I know that’s shitty.”
“It is,” Luke whispered. “But I also get it. That’s the worst part.”
Young stepped closer, hesitating before lifting his hand, giving Luke every chance to pull away. Luke didn’t. Young brushed his knuckles under Luke’s jaw, a soft touch meant to soothe. Luke leaned into it.
“I’ll call you when I get back,” Young said gently. “And text you when I reach the city. And when I’m settled.”
“That’s not the same,” Luke said, voice cracking.
“No,” Young agreed softly. “It’s not.”
Luke couldn’t hold it back anymore. Tears welled up and spilled over, silent at first but heavy, falling faster the moment Young stepped forward and wrapped his arm around him. Luke clung to his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
“I don’t want you to go,” Luke choked out against Young’s chest.
“I don’t want to go,” Young murmured, pressing a kiss into Luke’s hair, “but I think it’s the right thing. For Gabe. We need to think about him too.”
“Why does Gabe get to decide our whole lives?” Luke demanded shakily. “Why does he get to ruin this for us?”
“He’s not ruining it,” Young whispered. “He’s just… hurting. He needs time to catch up to everything that’s changing.”
Luke squeezed his eyes shut. “And what if he never catches up?”
Young pulled back slightly, tilting Luke’s chin up. The look he gave him was steady, warm, and heartbreakingly sure. “Then I’ll still love you anyway.”
Luke broke. A small, helpless sob slipped out and Young caught it with a tight hug, burying his face in Luke’s shoulder.
Eventually, Young pulled away, picking up his suitcase with trembling fingers. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, voice thick.
Luke nodded, wiping his cheeks quickly. “Text me immediately. Or I’ll hunt you down.”
Young managed a crooked smile. “Yes sir.”
He leaned down and kissed Luke, soft and brief, and all too gentle for how much it hurt, before turning and opening the front door.
Luke watched him step out onto the porch. Watched him walk down the path. Watched him lift his suitcase into the boot of an Uber he must have called. He watched until Youngjae’s cab pulled away, the car disappearing down the street. Only then did Luke let the sob break free, hand pressed to his mouth.
Because now he had to walk back inside.Now he had to tell his parents Young was gone. And eventually… He had to face Gabe.
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