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September 2018
Luke hadn’t expected Boston to feel like oxygen.
But it did.
Two weeks into his new life at the Massachusetts College of Art and Design, and the city already felt stitched into his bones—loud, busy, creative, a little chaotic in all the ways that made him feel alive. He loved walking down the street with a coffee in hand, backpack slung over one shoulder, pretending he was one of those effortlessly cool art students he used to admire from afar. Except now… he actually was one.
His new roommate, Joel, helped with that illusion.
Joel was quiet (painfully quiet at first) but in a non-awkward way. He was the kind of person who always wore headphones, always had a sketchbook open, and communicated mostly through nods, little smiles, or the occasional dry one-liner that caught Luke so off-guard he laughed for about five whole minutes. They weren’t best friends, but they existed peacefully in the same space with shared playlists and shared late-night ramen.
It worked.
Luke liked the calm. Liked the autonomy. Liked Joel’s gentle presence that never demanded anything from him. Most of all, Luke liked himself here. Because here… no one knew. Not a single person. Not his teachers, not his classmates, not the kids in his dorm.
For the first time in his life, Luke got to exist without his past attached to him like a label he didn’t ask for. He was just Luke. Just an eighteen-year-old art major with a sharp wit, better eyeliner than most people on campus, and scars that fit neatly beneath his shirt without screaming his history to the world.
It felt good. It felt right.
He’d catch himself smiling in the mirror sometimes because he finally looked like the boy he had always been. His chest was flat. His voice was deep. His confidence was rising slowly every day.
He did miss home sometimes—his parents, Eli’s overdramatic texts, the warm hum of familiarity.
He missed Gabe too, even if things were still painfully tense and awkward and unresolved. And he missed Youngjae in a way he tried not to think about too much when Joel was in the room.
But waking up in Boston? Waking up in a place where he wasn’t “the trans kid,” but simply a boy amongst other boys? Luke had never felt more himself. Never felt more free.
But despite how bright and new Boston felt, there was one shadow that followed Luke everywhere he went.
Gabe.
Or rather, Gabe’s absence.
It had been well over a month since that awful fight in Gabe’s bedroom, the one that ripped everything open and left them both bleeding in different ways. And in all that time, Gabe had essentially become a ghost. He didn’t text. He didn’t call. He didn’t even leave a stupid “liking-your-Instagram-post-but-pretending-it-means-nothing” digital breadcrumb. Nothing.
Luke had tried, again and again, to reach out. He sent little messages at first, then longer ones, then just pathetic “Are you okay?” texts that made him hate himself a little. Gabe never replied.
The only reason Luke knew anything about his brother was because of Youngjae.
And that was how he found out Gabe had requested a room transfer.
Luke had been sitting at his dorm desk, half-working on a charcoal drawing and half-daydreaming about a late-night call with Youngjae, when his phone buzzed. He’d opened the message from Youngjae expecting one of his usual overly dramatic “I miss you like crazy” voice notes or some flirtatious check-in.
Instead, the text read: Gabe moved out today. He transferred to another room. I didn’t stop him because it’s been awkward and tense as hell every time we’re here together. I just thought you should know.
At first Luke stared at the screen, not understanding.
Then it hit him like a punch to the stomach. Gabe had moved out of his and Young’s dorm room. Gabe had moved away from his best friend. From Youngjae. Gabe had moved away from their shared life. Gabe had moved away… from him.
Luke’s heart cracked clean down the middle.
He knew his brother was mad. He was furious, betrayed and confused. Luke knew that. But Luke had also assumed that deep down, Gabe still wanted him close. Still wanted Youngjae close. That no matter how messed-up things were, Gabe wouldn’t change something as big as their living arrangements.
But he had, and he hadn’t told Luke. He’d rather disappear quietly than talk to him. He’d rather abandon the space he and his best friend had built together in Boston than face Luke or Youngjae ever again. Fuck. Luke swallowed around the sharp ache in his throat when that reality settled heavy in his chest. His brother hadn’t just needed space. He was running from them. That hurt more than Luke wanted to admit, even to himself.
But even in the darkness, there was still some light. Like right now, where Youngjae lay sprawled across Luke’s bed like he owned it—which, to be fair, he practically did by now. One arm was looped lazily around Luke’s waist, his face pressed into the curve of Luke’s neck as he pressed slow, annoyingly affectionate kisses against his skin. Luke tried to focus on the sketchbook propped on his knees.
“Stop it,” he said, flicking his pencil in Youngjae’s direction without looking up. “I’m trying to get this shading right.”
“Mhm,” Youngjae murmured against his throat, warm breath trailing over Luke’s collarbone. “I’m helping.”
“You’re making me draw like I’m having a seizure.”
Young grinned against his skin. “Sexy.”
Luke smacked the back of Young’s head with the flat of his pencil. “You’re so annoying.”
“And yet,” Youngjae said, lifting his head just enough to give Luke a smug smile before kissing the underside of his jaw, “you’re still letting me touch you.”
Luke’s ears burned. “Shut up and let me finish this.”
Young didn’t shut up. Or stop. If anything, he doubled down. Luke was seconds away from physically shoving him off the bed when Joel’s key card beeped at the door.
“Hey,” Joel said casually as he stepped inside, unfazed to find Young draped all over Luke like a possessive cat. “Still at it?”
Youngjae waved from Luke’s shoulder. “Hi, Joel.”
Luke groaned. “Please don’t encourage him.”
Joel chuckled, dumping his backpack by his desk. “Right, well. There’s a little thing happening tonight. Nothing wild. Just people from the first-year floors hanging out at Block C. Drinks, music, probably someone crying in the corridor. Y’know, art college normal.”
Luke perked up a little. “Is it open invite?”
“Pretty much,” Joel shrugged. “Some people are bringing friends. That’s why I’m asking. Do you wanna come?”
“And me?” Youngjae asked, sitting up properly now, legs dangling off the bed. Luke swatted at him for finally sitting like a human being.
Joel didn’t even blink. “Yeah, sure. The more the merrier. You’re cool.”
Young grinned. “I like him.”
“I like you too, man,” Joel said, grabbing his phone from his desk. “You don’t talk much, but when you do, it’s usually funny.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Don’t inflate his ego. It’s already barely fitting in the room.”
Youngjae nudged him with his shoulder. “You love my ego.”
“I tolerate your ego,” Luke corrected, though the smile tugging at his mouth gave him away.
Joel snorted. “Right, well, it starts around eight. I’m gonna have a quick nap. Wake me up around 7.”
“Cool,” Luke said. “Will do.”
Joel nodded, slipped on his headphones, and plopped onto his bed before he closed his eyes.
The second Luke’s pencil touched the page again, Youngjae slid right back into his side, kissing the exact same spot on his neck he’d been pestering before.
“Fuck, Youngjae!” Luke huffed.
Youngjae grinned, eyes sparkling. “Yes, gwiyomi?”
Luke hesitated. “Uh…pretty?”
“Cutie,” Youngjae corrected. “But you were close.”
“I think i’m getting better at Korean.”
“I think you are too.”
“Okay now let me finish this,” Luke said.
Youngjae didn’t even pretend to behave. He shifted and pressed Luke onto his back against the mattress.
Luke let out a quiet, startled sound, sketchbook slipping crookedly onto the duvet. “Young—!” he hissed, face burning as Youngjae braced himself over him, one knee nudging between Luke’s thighs far too naturally.
Young’s expression was pure mischief. “What?” he whispered, leaning down until their noses brushed softly. “I’m just lying down.”
“You are not just lying down,” Luke whispered back harshly, trying to shove Young’s chest without actually wanting him to move. “Get off. Joel’s literally right there.”
Youngjae glanced over at Joel (who, wrapped in his duvet, looked fully dead to the world) and then looked back at Luke with raised brows. “He’s asleep.”
“He’s napping, not in a coma.”
Young hummed thoughtfully and dipped his head to kiss Luke’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “I can be quiet.”
Luke’s whole body jolted. “No, absolutely not. We are not doing anything while Joel is six feet away.”
Youngjae rested more of his weight on him anyway, smirking down at the pink spreading across Luke’s cheeks. “But you’re so cute when you get bossy.”
“Shut up,” Luke muttered, even though he was grabbing Youngjae’s hoodie like he couldn’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away.
Young brushed a soft kiss beneath Luke’s ear and whispered, “We don’t have to do anything… I just missed you.”
Luke’s chest squeezed. Irritatingly, his hands slid into Young’s hair on instinct. “This is still inappropriate,” he murmured, even while tugging lightly at the back of Young’s neck.
“Then tell me to move,” Young challenged quietly.
Luke opened his mouth to do exactly that. Then slowly closed it. Then sighed and opened it again. “Fuck. Just lie next to me,” he mumbled faintly. “But no funny business. I mean it.”
Youngjae grinned. Ugh. It was the smug, devastating kind that made Luke’s stomach flip, and rolled onto his side, pulling Luke against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Luke buried his face in Young’s chest, trying to hide the fact he’d gone scarlet.
Young whispered into his hair, “See? Not getting handsy. Being completely innocent here.”
Luke elbowed him weakly. “You’re annoying.”
“Mm,” Young murmured, tucking Luke even closer, “and you love it.”
Luke didn’t dignify that with a response. He just lay there, melting quietly in his boyfriend’s arms, praying Joel stayed asleep for a very long time.
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The party wasn’t big, just a cluster of art students gathered in a messy common room, but the atmosphere buzzed with warmth and noise and the kind of effortless queerness that Luke had only ever dreamed of growing up.
Someone had dragged a mismatched collection of chairs and cushions into a loose circle, and Luke ended up settling onto Youngjae’s lap without even thinking about it. Young’s hands slid around his waist like it was a reflex, chin resting on Luke’s shoulder.
And the best part? No one even blinked. Nobody stared. Nobody whispered. Nobody looked shocked or confused. A couple of people smiled at them (soft, easy smiles like oh, cute) and then went right back to their own conversations like it was the most normal thing in the world. Because here, it was.
Art school was apparently 60% queer, 30% weird, and 10% “vaguely threatening but in a sexy way.” Luke felt like he’d slipped into the right universe at last.
He leaned back against Youngjae’s chest, letting the warmth of his boyfriend’s body settle around him like a blanket. Young pressed a slow kiss into the side of his head, not subtle at all, and Luke didn’t have to flinch or pull away or check who was watching. They could just… be.
Joel was perched on the arm of a sofa nearby, animatedly explaining something about colour theory to a girl in chunky boots. Someone else passed a bag of crisps around. A playlist of indie remixes thumped quietly in the background. Two girls were slow-dancing stupidly in the corner, laughing every time they tripped over each other.
Luke felt safe. Happy in a way that made his chest feel too full.
He tilted his head enough to look up at Young, who met his gaze instantly with a lazy smile. “You good?” Young murmured.
“Yeah,” Luke whispered back. “Really good.”
And he was. So good he was almost scared to breathe too hard in case he burst.
Then, naturally, Luke noticed some people staring. Not in a bad way. More like… admiration. A couple of girls across the room were openly swooning, whispering to each other while sneaking glances at Young like he was some celebrity dropped into their living room. One of the guys by the drinks table kept doing double-takes too, cheeks pinking each time.
Luke felt Young shift under him, completely unaware of the attention he was drawing. Of course he was. Youngjae was gorgeous and oblivious, that was his brand.
Luke elbowed him lightly. “Everyone’s staring at you.”
Young blinked. “Huh? Why?”
Luke huffed a soft, incredulous laugh. “Because you’re incredibly hot.”
At that, Young grinned. “Well, good job I’ve only got eyes for one person.”
Luke’s stomach somersaulted violently.
Someone nearby pretended to gag dramatically and threw a small cushion at them. “God, get a room!”
Young snickered and pressed an even more obnoxious kiss beneath Luke’s ear. Luke went bright red but didn’t move an inch. He just settled more firmly onto Young’s lap, head resting back on his shoulder, soaking in the freedom of being able to love him openly. Finally. God, it felt perfect.
They eventually slipped out of the common room sometime after midnight, fingers laced together, the cool air outside wrapping around them as they crossed the quad. Youngjae kept brushing their joined hands against Luke’s hip as they walked, like he couldn’t bear not touching him even for a second, and Luke kept biting back an idiotic smile.
By the time they reached Luke’s dorm building, Young pressed a kiss to his hairline. “I’ll walk you up,” he murmured.
“You’re such a gentleman,” Luke teased, squeezing his hand.
“I can be,” Young replied, eyes glinting in the dim hallway light. “Sometimes.”
They reached Luke’s door. Luke hesitated for about half a second before tugging on Young’s wrist and whispering, “Joel’s not back yet.”
Young raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Luke pushed the door open and pulled him inside by the front of his hoodie.
“Oh,” Young echoed, this time with a smug smile.
Luke shut the door behind them, the room lit only by the soft amber glow of his desk lamp. Youngjae stepped in close, his hands sliding immediately to Luke’s hips like they lived there, like that was where they’d always belonged. Luke felt his heart jump against his ribs.
“You okay?” Young murmured.
Luke nodded and kissed him.
It started soft and slow, just a gentle press of mouths, but it deepened almost immediately. Young’s hands gripped his waist, pulling him flush against him, and Luke sighed into the kiss, letting himself melt.
Young backed him up until Luke’s knees hit the bed and he toppled back with a surprised laugh. Youngjae followed, bracing one hand beside Luke’s head, the other drifting up under the hem of his hoodie, fingertips grazing the warm skin beneath.
Luke shivered. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
Young grinned, leaning down to kiss along his jaw and then to his cheeks. “Maybe.”
Luke curled his fingers in Young’s hair, tugging him back toward his mouth. Their lips met again, hungrier this time, Luke lifting his hips instinctively. Young made a low sound, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, and settled between Luke wide legs.
“You’re unbelievable,” Luke whispered breathlessly.
“Good unbelievable or bad unbelievable?” Young murmured as he trailed kisses down Luke’s neck.
“Good,” Luke hissed, arching slightly. “Very good.”
Young slid his palm up Luke’s ribs carefully, always carefully, of the places that still felt tender sometimes. Luke’s breath stuttered as Young cupped his jaw, kissing him again, deeper this time, tongues brushing, heat gathering low in Luke’s stomach.
Luke tugged him closer, whispering against his lips, “I love when you touch me like that.”
Young swallowed, eyes darkening. “Luke…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m trying really hard not to get carried away.”
Luke smirked, pulling him in for another kiss. “Then don’t try so hard.”
Young’s laugh came out strangled. “You’re evil.”
“Take it as a compliment.”
Young dipped down and kissed him again, slower this time, savouring it. Luke gasped softly when Young’s hands slid under his thighs, lifting them a little so they framed Young’s hips.
“Fuck,” Young whispered, nose brushing Luke’s cheek. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Not before you kiss me again.”
Young obeyed without hesitation, though he kept pausing every so often, just long enough to look at him with an expression so soft and reverent that Luke felt his chest tighten.
Eventually Luke pulled him down until their foreheads touched. “You staying?” he whispered.
Young hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. If you want me to.”
“I always want you to.”
Young gave him a slow smile, one that made Luke feel like every nerve in his body was glowing. “Then I’m staying,” he murmured.
Luke lay beneath him, breath still unsteady, lips still tingling from the last kiss. Youngjae’s weight was warm and grounding, his fingertips tracing idle shapes along Luke’s waist. It should have calmed him. It didn’t. His heart was thundering. His mouth felt dry. He swallowed, eyes flickering up to Young’s.
“I… think I’m ready,” Luke whispered. “To… y’know. Lose my virginity.”
Young froze. Not dramatically. Not with shock or horror. More like every muscle in him went still because he was trying very, very hard to process what Luke had just said without immediately combusting.
“Uh…Are you sure?”
Luke nodded, cheeks flushed but gaze steady. “Yeah. I am. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I trust you and I want it to be with you.”
Young inhaled sharply, his brows drawing together in something tender and pained and overwhelmed all at once. “God,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along Luke’s cheekbone. “You have no idea what that does to me.”
Luke bit his lip. “Then…?”
Young immediately shook his head, gentle but firm. “Not tonight.”
Luke blinked. “What? Why?”
Young cupped his face with both hands, leaning down just enough that their noses touched. “Because we’re in a shared dorm room and you deserve your first time to be all about you and only you, not worrying about whether your roommate is going to walk in any second and catch us.” Luke opened his mouth to protest, but Young cut him off with a soft kiss. “And because I love you,” Young whispered against his lips, “I’m not rushing you. Not ever.”
Luke’s chest clenched. “But I want you.”
Young smiled. It was small, wrecked, and impossibly fond. “You have me. Completely. But when we do this… I want you comfortable. Safe. Not anxious. Not distracted. Not recovering from surgery.”
Luke felt heat spread through him, embarrassment mixing with relief. “So you’re not… saying no.”
“I’m saying,” Young whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth, “I want your first time to be something you look back on and smile about. Not something that happened too fast.”
Luke’s fingers curled into his hoodie. “You promise we’ll… eventually?”
Young laughed softly, nudging their foreheads together. “Fuck. If you think I’m capable of surviving the rest of my life without touching you properly? Absolutely not.”
Luke snorted, cheeks burning.
Young kissed him again, full of every ounce of affection he’d been holding back for months. “Soon. But not tonight,” he repeated gently. “Tonight, I just want to hold you.”
Luke exhaled, tension unspooling from his chest. “Okay,” he whispered. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Young pulled him close, settling them both on the narrow dorm bed as though it was the easiest thing in the world. Luke curled into him, burying his face in his chest, feeling Young press a kiss into his hair. And as they lay there—warm, safe, and tangled together—Luke realised that waiting didn’t feel disappointing. It felt right. It felt like love.
A/N: bit of a filler chapter, sorry. I’ve kinda been focusing on the support group more which is my bad. Way more drama coming in the next chapter
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