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Summer 2019
By the time Luke had finished his first year at college, he was practically a new person. He and Youngjae were driving back home from Boston for the summer, all hype and excitement.
By the time they reached the outskirts of their hometown, the sun had turned the car into a moving oven. Luke had peeled his shirt off ages ago, legs kicked up on the dash, sunglasses sliding down his nose as the wind whipped through the open windows. The heat didn’t bother him the way it used to. Not when he could sit like this—bare-chested, comfortable, and free. His scars were faint now, thin pale lines he traced without thinking. He loved them. Loved what they meant. Loved who he’d become.
Youngjae kept glancing at him over the steering wheel with a little half-smirk that made Luke’s stomach flip. “You’re going to give some poor driver a heart attack,” he murmured.
Luke stretched his arms over his head. “I’m a work of art. They’re lucky.”
Young snorted. “You’re insufferable.” But his hand still slid across the centre console, fingers brushing Luke’s thigh. The touch said everything the quiet didn’t.
They’d spent most of the drive in a comfortable silence—music low, windows down, the world blurring by. It felt grown. It felt easy. It felt like them.
But then Young inhaled slowly, drumming his fingers on the wheel, and Luke instantly knew something was coming. Something real.
“I, uh…” Young paused, eyes fixed on the road. “I’m thinking about… going to see my parents this week.”
Luke’s sunglasses slipped down further. His heart thudded. “Your parents…as in your parents?”
Young gave a humourless laugh. “Yeah. The homophobic ones.”
Luke sat up properly now, abandoning his lazy sprawl completely. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
“I know.” Young’s shoulders lifted and dropped. “But it’s been over a year. I’m tired, Luke. I’m tired of wondering if they ever think about me. If they feel guilty. If they’d even answer the door.”
Luke reached out, placing his hand gently over Young’s forearm. “You don’t owe them anything. Not forgiveness. Not time. Not anything.”
Young swallowed hard. “I know that too. But I just… I need to see for myself. If they’ve changed. If there’s even a chance.”
Luke’s chest tightened. “And if they haven’t?”
“Then at least I’ll stop wondering so much,” Young said softly. “At least I’ll know I tried.”
Silence settled over them again, but it wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t cold. It was the kind that came right before a storm, charged and important.
Luke squeezed his arm gently. “I’ll be with you. Whatever happens.”
Young stole a glance. “I know,” he murmured. “That’s why I think I can do it now.”
Luke smiled faintly. “Good. I’m proud of you.”
Young reached over and tangled their fingers together properly this time, letting the car drift down the familiar road that led to the Davies household. And Luke, shirtless and sun-warmed and deeply in love, felt the next chapter of their lives beginning right there in the summer haze.
The moment Young pulled into the driveway, Luke felt that familiar, warm pang in his chest. God, he was home. Proper home. The kind that smelled like laundry detergent, garden soil, and his mom’s familiar perfume.
As soon as they stepped through the front door, Luke’s mom called out from the kitchen, “Boys! You’re here!” She appeared a second later, wiping her hands on a tea towel before pulling Luke into a tight hug. “Oh sweetheart, look at you! You’re skin and bone and sunburn. Come in, come in.”
His dad followed with a grin, clapping Young on the shoulder. “Good to have you back, son. Come sit, the food’s nearly ready.”
The house felt full again. Warm, bustling, and familiar. Luke could feel Young beside him, smiling politely, relaxing a little more with every passing minute. They all sat around the kitchen table, plates filling quickly, the conversation an easy hum of catch-up stories, college life, and Luke’s dad asking far too many questions about Young’s new car.
Luke tried not to stare at Youngjae when his parents called him “love” or “sweetheart.” Young always blinked like he was still learning he had more than one family now.
Halfway through their meal, the front door opened and they all paused. Gabe stepped inside, dragging two bags behind him, sunlight catching in his hair. He looked older, somehow. Tired. But still Gabe.
Luke’s mom perked up. “Gabe! Perfect timing!”
Gabe managed a small smile. “Hey.”
Luke swallowed hard. It had been almost six months since the explosion of arguments, the drinking, the distance. Things had improved—not perfectly, but enough. Gabe no longer froze when he saw Luke and Young together. He didn’t glare. He didn’t storm out of rooms. But he didn’t quite join in with them either. Conversations were shorter. Smiles were thinner. It was progress… small, but real.
“Hey,” Luke said softly.
Gabe nodded. “Alright?”
“Yeah,” Luke replied.
Youngjae lifted a hand in a gentle wave. “Hey, man.”
Gabe hesitated, just a flicker, then gave the smallest nod back. “Hey.”
Luke’s chest loosened a little. Six months ago, even looking Young in the eye had seemed impossible for Gabe. Now he was greeting him, however stiffly. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it wasn’t hatred either. It was a bridge being rebuilt plank by plank.
Gabe dropped his bags and took the empty seat beside Luke’s dad. “Smells good,” he muttered, reaching for a plate like nothing was wrong and everything was normal.
Luke felt Young’s knee tap his under the table. It was a quiet reassurance, a reminder that they were here, together, and things really were getting better. Slowly. Awkwardly. But better.
They eased into dinner with the usual clatter of cutlery and overlapping voices, everyone trying to talk at once. It felt almost normal. Almost like before everything cracked open.
Luke’s dad nudged Gabe with a grin. “So, are you home for the whole summer? Or are you two”—he gestured vaguely between Gabe and Young, the old habit dying hard—”already plotting some chaos back in Boston?”
Gabe chuckled under his breath. A small one, but real. “Actually, I’ve got some news.”
Four pairs of eyes lifted.
Luke straightened without meaning to.
Gabe rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed by the attention. “Well, I was gonna tell you all later, but… whatever. Might as well say it now.”
Young leaned subtly forward. Luke could feel his anticipation through the air.
Gabe inhaled. “I got hired.” A beat. “Hired by the Boston Comets.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Not because they didn’t understand him, but because they did.
Luke’s mom gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, my God. Gabe… you don’t mean—?”
Gabe’s lips twitched into a rare, genuine smile. “Yeah. Pro league. I start training in August.”
The kitchen erupted.
His dad stood up with a proud shout, grabbing Gabe in a rough hug. “That’s my boy!”
Mom was next, pulling him into her own emotional embrace. “I can’t believe it! You’re going to be playing professional lacrosse! Gabe, sweetheart, that’s incredible!”
Eli and Nate weren’t there, but Luke imagined them screaming too. Luke’s heart soared. Despite everything (the fights, the distance, the pain) he felt nothing but glowing pride for his big brother. “Gabe, holy shit,” he laughed. “That’s amazing! I knew you’d get in somewhere, but the Comets?”
Gabe shrugged, trying and failing to look as casual as possible. “They reached out after my performance this season. Said they’d been watching.”
Youngjae grinned across the table. “Told you you were too good for college leagues forever.”
Gabe’s eyes flickered to him, the briefest second of old warmth cracking through the frost. Not fully healed, not fully there, but something. A crack in the wall. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I guess all those years of dragging you in the mud paid off.”
Young huffed a laugh. Luke’s heart clenched. It was the first time Gabe had addressed Young directly in months without anger tightening his jaw.
Progress. Real progress.
Luke couldn’t stop smiling. Proud of Gabe. Proud of all of them, really. Life was slowly finding its way back to normal, a new normal that belonged to all three of them.
“So,” Gabe said, leaning back with a grin Luke hadn’t seen in a long, long time, “who’s ready to come watch me kick ass in the pro league?”
“Oh definitely,” mom gushed. “I can’t wait to tell everyone I know!”
Luke’s dad, still glowing with pride from Gabe’s announcement, turned his attention to the other lacrosse boy at the table. “What about you, Young? You had just as many scouts circling. Any offers on the table?”
Youngjae froze for half a second, his fork midway to his mouth. He set it down carefully, wiping his palms on his jeans before answering. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I… I got a few.”
Gabe’s eyes flicked over sharply. It was just a flicker, but Luke noticed it. Gabe already knew Young had been scouted, but he clearly had no idea what Young’s answer had been.
Luke’s mom brightened. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart! Are you going to sign with one of them?”
Youngjae exhaled a small laugh, not embarrassed, just modest in that uniquely Young way. “Actually… no. I declined.”
Silence fell again, softer this time, curious rather than shocked. Gabe blinked.
“You declined?” their father echoed. “But why, son? You’ve been one of the strongest attackers they’ve got at Harvard.”
Young shrugged his shoulders, a quiet honesty in his voice. “Because I’m not sure I want to play lacrosse for the rest of my life.”
Gabe stiffened.
Young continued, speaking carefully, looking at Luke’s parents instead of Gabe. “Lacrosse has been great. I love it. It got me through a lot. But… it’s not who I am forever. I don’t want to tie my whole life to a sport just because I’m good at it.” Then he gave a tiny, almost bashful smile. “I’m actually writing a book.”
Luke smiled softly, because he already knew all of this. Youngjae had confided in him one night when he was feeling vulnerable and Luke had promised to be there for him no matter what he chose.
Luke’s dad’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait, what? Properly writing one?”
Young nodded. “Yeah. Working on a manuscript. I don’t know if it’ll ever get published, but it feels right. Feels like something I want to try for real.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Maybe I’ll coach or do part-time training. I still love the game. But going pro? That’s not my dream.”
Luke’s mom clasped her hands together. “Oh, Young, that’s wonderful. Truly.”
His dad nodded approvingly. “It takes courage to choose a life that fits you, not the one others expect.”
Gabe was still staring at Young. Not angry. Not jealous. Just… stunned. As if this was the first time he’d truly heard Young’s voice in months.
Luke felt the tension stretch thin between them.
Youngjae glanced his way, just for a heartbeat, and Luke saw it. The truth behind Young’s choice. Lacrosse had always been something he did for Gabe, with Gabe. Walking away from it was part necessity… and part freedom. A soft quietness settled over the table—reflective, full, hopeful.
Then Luke cleared his throat lightly. “Well… more proof I’m dating the smartest guy I know.”
Youngjae’s ears went pink.
Gabe’s face did something unreadable. Was it hurt? Pride? Confusion? Whatever it was, he didn’t snap, didn’t flinch, and didn’t walk out.
Progress.
Luke could breathe again.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
That night, the house had settled into the familiar summer quiet. Luke lay on his back in his childhood bed, staring at the ceiling, and knew he wasn’t going to fall asleep like this.
Not without him.
He slipped out from under the covers, padding quietly down the hallway, down the stairs, and then down again to the basement. The door gave its usual faint groan, and Luke winced, holding his breath until he was sure no one had stirred upstairs. Then he eased it open and stepped inside.
Youngjae was awake.
His lamp was on low, casting warm shadows across the small, neatly arranged basement room. He was sitting up in bed, hair fluffy, glasses on, pen in hand, journal open across his lap. He looked up the moment Luke closed the door behind him.
“Hey. You okay?” Young asked softly, setting the journal aside.
Luke nodded, though he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. “Yeah. Just… couldn’t sleep.”
Youngjae didn’t tease him for it. He just lifted the blanket. Luke practically melted as he crawled into the bed, settling against Young’s chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. Youngjae immediately wrapped an arm around him, pulling him in until Luke could feel the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing.
God, he had missed this. He had missed being held, missed the quiet certainty Youngjae always gave him, missed the way his body relaxed the moment Young touched him.
Young pressed a kiss to Luke’s hair. “Long day?”
“Mm,” Luke murmured. “A good one, mostly. Your announcement freaked me out a bit. I was scared of what everyone would say.”
Young chuckled, fingers stroking the back of Luke’s neck. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m proud of you. Really.” Luke closed his eyes, sinking deeper into him. “Just… feels like everything’s changing.”
Young’s hand paused, then resumed its soft path. “Change isn’t always bad.”
Luke hummed, but he clung a little tighter to him all the same.
“You know…” Young whispered, “you sneaking into my bed like this? It feels like we’re teenagers hiding from our parents.”
Luke smiled into Young’s shirt. “We kind of are.”
“True.” Young kissed the top of his head. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
Luke lifted his head just enough to look at him. “Me too.”
“And being here really makes me hope that my parents accept me back.”
Luke caught a glimpse of the faint crease between Youngjae’s brows. He hadn’t said it dramatically, nor with any bitterness. It came out quiet, almost weary, as if it had been sitting inside him for too long.
“I just…” Youngjae exhaled slowly, fingers tracing absent circles on Luke’s shoulder. “I really wish my parents would accept me like yours do. Not even for me, really. I mean, yes for me, but…” His voice wavered a little. “I want them to meet you.”
Luke lifted his head fully this time. Youngjae wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were fixed on some point across the dimly lit room, jaw tight in that way Luke had noticed only when he was trying very hard not to feel something.
“Why?” Luke whispered. “Why would you want that? They don’t… they don’t deserve that.”
“Maybe they don’t,” Young murmured, swallowing hard. “But I still do. I deserve to bring home someone I love. I deserve to have them look at you the way your parents look at me.” His mouth tugged into a broken little smile. “Did you see your mom earlier? She practically glowed when she saw us walk in.”
“She loves you,” Luke said honestly.
“I know.” Young blinked slowly. “And I love her for that. But I want mine to look at you like that too. To see you. To know you. To… understand why you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Luke’s breath caught like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed. He shifted onto his knees, cupping Youngjae’s face gently. “Hey,” he whispered, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You don’t need your parents to validate us. You don’t need them to make this real. We’re real because we choose to be.”
“But I still want it,” Young admitted. “I want to bring my boyfriend home. I want them to see how happy I am. I want—” He stopped, biting the inside of his cheek. “I want a version of them that doesn’t exist.”
Luke’s heart twisted. He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, brushing his thumbs along Young’s jaw. “I want them to accept you too,” Luke whispered. “Not because I need their approval, but because you deserve that peace. You deserve a family that doesn’t flinch at who you are.”
Young huffed out a sad little laugh. “One day, maybe.”
“One day,” Luke echoed softly. “But until then? You’ve got a whole other family who absolutely adores you.”
Young pulled Luke into his chest, hugging him tightly. It was tighter than usual. It was tight enough that Luke could feel the truth of it all pressed into every line of his body. “I love you,” he whispered into his hair.
Luke squeezed him back. “I love you too.”
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
They pulled up outside Youngjae’s childhood home just after noon the next day. The curtains were drawn. There were no cars in the driveway. The place looked sterile and tense. Young was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.
“Hey,” Luke murmured gently, touching his arm, “you’ve got this.”
Young didn’t move. Just stared at the front door like it might grow teeth and swallow him whole. “They might not even answer,” he muttered.
“Then at least you tried,” Luke soothed. “And if they do answer? You’ll be okay. I’ll be right here waiting. The whole time.”
That earned him a shaky smile, the kind that tried to pretend it wasn’t fear underneath. “You promise you won’t leave?” Young asked.
Luke leaned over the centre console, cupped his boyfriend’s jaw, and kissed him softly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here when you come back, no matter what happens.”
Young inhaled deeply, exhaled through trembling lips, then nodded once. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”
He stepped out of the car, straightened his shirt, wiped his palms along his jeans, and began walking toward the front door. Every few steps, he glanced back at Luke, who gave him a thumbs up and a reassuring grin. Finally, Young vanished behind the doorframe.
The second the door shut, Luke’s heart clenched. He hated this. Hated that Young had to walk back into a house where he wasn’t welcomed. Hated that he couldn’t stand beside him. Hated the silence that followed.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket before the spiral kicked in and tapped Eli’s name.
“Luke!” Eli answered loudly, voice already far too energetic for the emotional chaos Luke was drowning in. “How’s Boston’s sexiest couple doing?”
“Eli,” Luke groaned, sinking back into the passenger seat. “Please don’t.”
“Oooooh. Trouble in paradise?”
“No,” Luke sighed. “Just… Young’s inside talking to his parents.”
“Oh shit.” Eli’s tone shifted immediately, softer. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Luke lied. “He was really nervous, though.”
“Of course he was! Dude, that house is like… the villain origin story for half his trauma.”
Despite the tension, Luke let out a small laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“You think they’ll be decent this time?”
Luke stared at the house, imagining every painful scenario Young might be facing behind that closed door, and picked at the edge of his hoodie sleeve.
“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I really don’t.”
“Do you want me to distract you?”
“Yes,” Luke sighed instantly. “Please. Before I start crying or kick their bin over.”
Eli cleared his throat dramatically. “Okay, so first order of business: did you know Nate is trying to teach himself Italian because he insists we need ‘a language of love’?”
Luke blinked. “…He what?”
“Yeah. Except he sounds like the fucking Mario Kart loading screen. It’s stupid.”
Luke snorted loudly. “Oh my god.”
“Yesterday he tried to say sono molto innamorato di te and accidentally said sono molto un’armadillo.”
“That means ‘I am very an armadillo,’ right?”
“It absolutely does,” Eli said proudly.
Luke laughed properly then, tension spilling out of him. “I hate you.”
“I try,” Eli beamed through the phone.
They slipped into easy conversation, the comforting kind where Eli rambled and Luke listened, occasionally chiming in with a sarcastic remark. It soothed something in him and kept his mind from spiralling too deeply into fear.
But every few minutes, Luke’s eyes flicked back to the front door. Waiting. Praying. Willing it to open with Young’s face intact.
The front door suddenly flew open so violently that Luke jolted upright, nearly dropping his phone.
Youngjae stormed out of the house with his jaw clenched, shoulders tight, eyes blazing with something between heartbreak and fury. He didn’t even look back. Didn’t pause. Didn’t breathe. He just marched straight to the car and yanked the driver’s door open.
“Y–Young?” Luke stammered.
Young didn’t answer. He slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the windows. His breathing was sharp, uneven, almost shaking. He shoved the keys into the ignition with trembling hands.
“Eli, I have to go,” Luke whispered quickly into the phone.
“Is he ou—”
Luke hung up.
“Youngjae. Young wait—”
But the engine roared to life and Young reversed so fast Luke’s stomach dropped. The car shot down the street, Young’s grip on the wheel white-knuckled and reckless.
“Hey,” Luke said, voice shaking, “slow down. Youngjae, please slow down.”
Young didn’t. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breaths ragged and strained, eyes fixed on the road but not really seeing it. Luke could see the tears gathering in his lashes, the way his lips kept wobbling like he was fighting the urge to scream.
“Baby,” Luke tried again gently, “you’re scaring me. Please… please just pull over. Anywhere. Please.”
That got through.
Barely.
Young swerved into the nearest empty car park, some random office building that looked abandoned on weekends. The car jerked to a stop as he slammed it into park, hands still gripping the wheel as though he’d fall apart if he let go.
And then he did.
He broke.
Young let out a sound Luke had never heard from him before, something guttural and wounded, ripped straight from the bottom of his lungs. He folded forward, forearms braced against the steering wheel as sobs tore out of him.
Luke’s heart shattered. He unbuckled instantly and reached out, cupping Young’s cheek. “Hey, hey. Youngjae, breathe—”
But Young couldn’t. His whole body shook as if everything he’d been holding together for months had finally collapsed under its own weight.
“They—” Young choked, trying to speak but failing. “They… they didn’t even let me—” He dragged in a sharp breath, voice cracking violently. “They told me I’ve shamed them. That I’m sick. That… that I should’ve stayed gone.”
Luke moved closer, his hand sliding to the back of Young’s neck, rubbing gently. “Oh god… Young…”
Young sucked in another horrible, shaky breath, tears spilling freely now, dripping off his jaw. “I thought maybe…maybe time would make it better. I thought maybe they’d at least pretend to care. I just—” His voice broke entirely as he buried his face in his hands. “I feel so fucking stupid for even hoping.”
Luke’s chest ached so hard it hurt to breathe. He’d never seen Young cry like this—not drunk, not hurt, not scared. This was different. This was heartbreak that had been festering for years.
“You’re not stupid,” Luke whispered fiercely, leaning in until his foreheads touched his boyfriend’s shoulder. “No. You’re not stupid. You’re brave. You went in there alone, hoping for something better. that isn’t stupid, that’s hope. That’s love.”
Young let out another broken noise as more tears fell, and Luke wrapped both arms around him, pulling him sideways against his chest as best he could across the console.
Young clung back instantly, his fingers bunching in Luke’s shirt, forehead pressed to his shoulder, breath shuddering against Luke’s collarbone.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Young sobbed.
“Well, tough luck,” Luke murmured, running his fingers through Young’s hair as gently as he could. “Pretty sure you’ve seen me in worse conditions.”
Young cried harder, shoulders shaking as he held Luke tighter, drawing him in like he needed him to stay upright.
Luke kissed his temple softly. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Just breathe. I’m right here.”
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