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Summer 2022
Luke hadn’t expected to cry this much before noon.
But here he was, standing in the little dressing room the venue had set aside for him, staring at his own reflection through watery eyes, cheeks already blotchy, and his hair being aggressively fussed over by Eli and his mom like he was a life-sized doll they were determined to perfect.
His mom was on her tiptoes behind him, smoothing down flyaways with trembling fingers, while Eli circled like a stylist preparing for Paris Fashion Week rather than his best friend’s wedding.
“Stop crying,” Eli scolded, even though he was clearly teary himself. “Your eyes are gonna swell and then Young is gonna think you’re allergic to him.”
Luke let out a choked laugh that immediately broke into another sob. “I can’t help it,” he whined, wiping under his eyes carefully. “This is insane. I’m—I’m getting married. I’m actually getting married.”
His mom kissed the side of his head. “Of course you are, sweetheart. And you look beautiful.”
“Handsome,” Luke corrected automatically, still sniffling, and his mom immediately nodded.
“Yes, sorry. Handsome. So, so handsome.”
And he was.
The dark navy suit fit him perfectly. It was a soft, tailored fabric hugging his shoulders and tapering neatly at his waist. It brought out the colour in his eyes and deepened the tone of his hair which he had let go back to his natural colour a while ago. His scars, faint and pale now, sat comfortably beneath his shirt and vest, invisible but present, a quiet reminder of everything he’d fought for.
He tugged at one of his cufflinks nervously. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
Eli scoffed. “Luke, he’s gonna see you and combust on sight. Or orgasm. Whichever one.”
Luke blushed so deeply his ears went hot. “Eli—”
“Elijah!” Mom scolded, shocked.
“No, genuinely,” Eli insisted. “You look like… like the sexiest actor in a film. And Young? That man is obsessed with you. He’s gonna lose his fucking mind.”
His mom nodded again. “Without being crude, it’s true. Young loves you a lot and he hasn’t stopped pacing downstairs from what your father told me,” she said with a warm smile. “He’s trying to distract him, but he said he’s never seen that boy so nervous.”
Luke’s heart clenched. Young was nervous? Young was pacing? Young was ready to marry him? He pressed a hand to his chest, where his heart was doing Olympic-level gymnastics.
“What if I forget my vows?” he fretted suddenly.
“You won’t,” Eli said.
“What if I cry so hard I can’t speak?”
“We’ll get you tissues,” his mom said kindly.
“What if I faint?”
“Well,” Eli mused, “that would be dramatic and iconic, honestly—”
“Mom!” Luke clutched her arm. “Can you go spy on him? Just—just tell me what he’s wearing. I need to know, I’m losing my mind.”
She laughed softly. “No spoilers. You’ll see him soon enough.”
Luke groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t wait that long.”
Eli pried his hands away. “Yes, you can. And you’re gonna walk down that aisle without falling flat on your face and he’s gonna look at you like you hung the moon.”
Luke swallowed hard. He already felt dizzy with joy and nerves and love, so much love it barely fit inside him. He wiped his eyes again and breathed out shakily. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Eli placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re more than ready, handsome.”
His mom kissed his forehead. “I love you so much. I’m so happy for you, sweetheart. Young is the luckiest man alive.”
Luke smiled, soft, overwhelmed and glowing. “I just want to see him,” he murmured.
And in a few minutes, he would.
In a few minutes, Luke would walk out there and marry the man he’d loved in a thousand quiet, messy, beautiful ways.
His heart fluttered again, but this time… it felt perfect.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
Youngjae stood at the altar trying his very best not to look like he was seconds away from fainting.
He wasn’t nervous about marrying Luke. No. That part felt strangely calm inside him, solid and right, as if his body had already made peace with the fact that Luke Davies was going to be his husband. No, what had his stomach twisted in knots was everything happening around him. The guests. The whispers. The amount of anticipation in the air. The sheer weight of the moment pressing down on his chest.
Luke’s father stood just behind him, a steady hand on Youngjae’s shoulder every so often, offering the grounding presence Young desperately needed. He was grateful, deeply grateful, but even that gentle reassurance couldn’t stop the ache that flooded his chest when he lifted his eyes and caught Gabe’s gaze across the aisle.
Gabe, tall and sharp in his suit, arms crossed loosely as he watched the ceremony preparations and welcomed all the guests. His expression wasn’t hostile… just unreadable. Flat. Careful.
And God, that hurt.
In another life, in the life they were meant to have, Gabe would’ve been standing beside him right now. Not Luke’s father. Gabe would’ve been his best man, probably overexcited and emotional and teasing Young about how he’d inevitably cry before Luke even walked in. They would’ve been laughing together this morning, straightening each other’s ties, reliving old memories.
But that life never happened.
Young looked away before the weight of that sadness could crush the joy of the moment.
He let his gaze travel instead over the rows of guests, to faces he recognised and faces he’d grown to love. A few teammates from Harvard Lacrosse. A cluster of cousins from his mom’s side who had come without hesitation. Some old childhood friends he hadn’t seen in years but who arrived today beaming with pride.
But not his parents.
There were two empty seats with their names on them. He’d left them anyway, hoping and praying that maybe last minute they’d walk in. Maybe they’d changed. Maybe they’d want to see their son marry the love of his life.
But no.
They still refused to acknowledge his sexuality. Still refused to acknowledge Luke. Still refused to acknowledge this part of him that had done nothing but make him whole.
He swallowed hard, eyes burning for reasons entirely separate from nerves.
At least his halmeoni had sent a parcel. It was a handwritten letter, a traditional embroidered cloth, and her blessing. He had folded the cloth into his jacket pocket earlier, keeping a piece of her with him.
He breathed in slowly, looking around the beautifully decorated hall. They had chosen to keep the ceremony traditional with a simple aisle, delicate flowers, soft music. It was nothing extravagant because Luke had said he wanted the focus to be on them, not a spectacle. Tonight, though, there would be a Korean traditional afterparty, hanboks and all. It would be loud, colourful and joyful. Young had spent weeks and months teaching Luke the customs. Luke had been awful at it at first, but so earnest that Young felt like his heart might burst.
Young’s fingers twitched at his side, suddenly desperate to reach for Luke already. To see him. To breathe him in. To settle every frantic thought in his chest with one touch.
Luke’s dad leaned close and murmured, “He’s almost ready.”
Young nodded stiffly, his throat too tight to speak.
Gabe finally finished greeting people and then took seat on the bench right at the front next to Maddy, his expression finally softening just a fraction.
Young let out a quiet breath.
Even without the parents who raised him, even without the best friend he’d imagined beside him… Youngjae wasn’t alone today. He had people who chose him. He had a future waiting at the end of that aisle. He had Luke. And any moment now, the large oak doors would open, and his whole world would walk toward him.
Youngjae didn’t realise how long he’d been staring at the empty seats until a warm hand settled on his arm.
“Don’t look there,” Luke’s father murmured, voice low and gentle, meant only for him. “Look at me.”
Young blinked, startled out of whatever spiralling daze he’d fallen into. He turned, and Mr Davies (the man who had become more of a father to him in three years than his own father had ever attempted to be) was watching him with soft, steady eyes.
“They should’ve come,” Young whispered, the words cracking. “I know they wouldn’t have, but…”
Mr Davies squeezed his arm firmly. “They’re the ones missing out. Not you.”
Young swallowed hard.
“You’re loved here,” the older man continued. “By Luke. By us. By everyone in this room who showed up because they wanted to see you happy. Families aren’t just the people who raise you, they’re the people who choose you.”
Young’s breath hitched, and he had to look down because tears were threatening to spill. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice barely holding. “Really.”
Mr Davies pulled him into a quick, strong one-armed hug, careful not to wrinkle Young’s suit. “Now stop crying, son. Your future husband will murder me.”
Young huffed out a watery laugh, and at that exact moment, the music swelled softly across the hall.
The signal.
“Oh God,” Young whispered, rubbing at his eyes. “Oh God: That’s him. He’s coming.”
Mr Davies grinned. “Brace yourself.”
The back doors opened.
And there stood Luke, clutching a white bouquet of Lily’s in trembling hands… and beside him, his mom, smiling brighter than the fairy lights strung across the ceiling. Luke looked breathtaking in his navy suit and Young noticed that his eyes were already glistening. He was also biting his lower lip, trying desperately not to cry. He failed immediately. So did Young.
“Oh my God,” Luke choked out a tiny laugh halfway down the aisle, wiping at tears with the back of his hand.
“You’re crying!” Young called helplessly.
“You’re crying too!” Luke shot back through a teary, wobbly grin.
A ripple of laughter went through the guests, which somehow made both of them cry even harder.
Luke’s mom squeezed his hand as they walked, whispering something that made Luke nod fiercely. Young had no idea what she said, he just knew Luke looked like someone whose entire world was finally safe. His knees nearly buckled.
By the time Luke reached him, both were laughing through their tears, faces flushed, hearts thundering. Luke’s mom kissed Young on the cheek before passing her son’s hand over.
Young clung to that hand like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth. Maybe it was.
“You look…” Luke breathed shakily. “…fucking beautiful. Wow. I love your suit.”
“You…” Young swallowed. “You’re going to kill me. I swear to God.”
Their laughter tangled together, soft and breathless.
The officiant started the ceremony and they both mostly drowned it out until he smiled and snapped Luke out of his daydreams. “Luke, your vows.”
Luke inhaled sharply.
Young squeezed his hand in encouragement.
“Um… I used to think love was supposed to be simple,” Luke began, voice already wobbling. “But then I met you, and I realised it’s supposed to be… messy and terrifying and overwhelming and,” he laughed wetly, “and so unbelievably worth it.”
Young’s throat tightened.
“You were there for me,” Luke continued, “when I didn’t even know how to be there for myself. You helped me feel like my body could finally be home. And you… you taught me what it feels like to be loved without conditions.”
Young was absolutely crying now.
Luke squeezed his hands. “So I promise that for the rest of our lives, i’ll love you with every version of myself. To choose you, even when life gets hard. Especially when life gets hard. I promise to be your family, the one that never leaves. Your safe place. Your biggest fan. Your—” he sniffed loudly “—your husband.”
The room went blurry around Young. The only thing he could see was Luke. He tried to speak. The first word cracked.
“My turn,” Young managed, voice raw as he wiped at his face uselessly. “Great.”
The guests laughed softly.
“Luke,” he said, taking a shaky breath, “you walked into my life when I didn’t even know I needed saving. You made me feel seen. You made me feel… good. Like the person I am, even the messy parts, is someone worth staying for.”
Luke’s eyes shone, wide and adoring.
“You made Boston feel like home,” Young whispered. “Not because of the city… but because you were there. You are my home. And I promise, for the rest of our lives, to protect you, to learn with you, to fight for you, and to love you in every way I possibly can. You’re my best friend and the love of my life. I’m so honoured… so unbelievably honoured… to be your husband.”
There wasn’t a dry eye in the room.
The rings slid on. The officiant smiled brighter than anyone else. “I now pronounce you married. You may kiss—”
Luke didn’t even wait. He surged forward, hands on Young’s cheeks, and kissed him fiercely as the room erupted into applause. Young kissed him back with equal desperation, laughing against his lips because holy shit, this was real. This was happening.
When they finally pulled away, breathless and glowing, they turned toward the aisle. Fingers intertwined immediately instinctively, like they’d been holding hands their entire lives. They walked back down the aisle together, grinning so widely it almost hurt.
The moment they left the room and reached the end of the hallway, Luke tugged at Young’s hand and whispered, “We need five minutes alone. Please.”
Young nodded instantly.
They slipped into Young’s dressing room and barely had the door shut before Luke pressed him against it, kissing him again, deeper, hungrier, stunned and euphoric.
“We’re married.” Luke whispered against his mouth, his voice breaking into a laugh. “Youngjae, we’re actually married.”
Young cupped his face, brushing his thumbs beneath Luke’s eyes. “I know. Holy shit, I know.”
Luke pushed his forehead to Young’s chest, trembling with happiness. “You’re my husband.”
Young’s breath caught. “Say it again.”
Luke looked up at him with a smile so bright it could have melted the earth. “You’re my husband.”
Young kissed him again, sloppy, joy-drunk and overwhelmed. Luke giggled into his mouth, wrapping his arms tightly round him as if he still couldn’t believe this was real. They stood there, tangled together, breathing the same air, until Eli annoyingly came bashing on the door and said it was time for the after party.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
The reception hall had been transformed into something out of a dream. Soft lantern light filled the room. Silk curtains in deep reds and royal blues framed the space. Tables were decorated with delicate white flowers and traditional Korean ornaments. A trio of musicians played gentle gayageum melodies in the corner, giving the whole room a soft, almost magical hum.
Luke, now changed into his hanbok, couldn’t stop touching the fabric. It felt surreal, him standing next to Youngjae in matching outfits, matching rings, and matching futures.
Young looked devastatingly beautiful in his own hanbok, hair neatly styled, posture straight, pride glowing from him even as his fingers trembled in Luke’s grasp. Luke adored how the traditional outfit looked on Young. He looked regal. He looked like everything Luke had ever wanted.
He had been little nervous when Youngjae had first mentioned wearing traditional Korean outfits. He didn’t know whether he could pull it off, or whether he was even allowed, but Youngjae had calmly explained the difference between cultural appropriation and cultural appreciation. Luke had immediately said yes after that. He wanted to intertwine Youngjae’s culture into their wedding day. He wanted to know and learn everything about it. It had been amazingly fun.
The moment the newlyweds entered, the room erupted into cheers.
Luke’s parents were clapping wildly, Eli was already crying, Nate was shouting “YES KING!” across the tables, and even Gabe (though subdued) gave a small, respectful nod that meant more than words.
The ceremony began with the traditional paebaek. Luke and Young knelt beside each other in front of their families. Youngjae’s cousins approached, speaking in Korean and smiling happily at the married couple. Luke’s mom and dad approached after that, placing chestnuts and jujubes into their hands, symbolising prosperity and future children… which made Luke blush deep crimson and made Young cough loudly, trying not to laugh.
“You look perfect in that,” Young whispered when Luke glanced at him shyly.
“Shut up,” Luke muttered, cheeks flaming. “I’m supposed to be solemn.”
Young smirked. “Yeobo, I’m allowed to think you’re cute.”
“I don’t know that one,” Luke frowned.
Youngjae grinned. “I’ll tell you later.”
Luke elbowed him discreetly.
Then came the bowing. Then the blessings. Then (Luke didn’t expect it) Young’s small cluster of friends and cousins each gave him supportive smiles, one aunt even giving Luke a kiss on the cheek and whispering, “Welcome to the family, dear.”
Luke’s eyes watered instantly.
If Young noticed, he didn’t say anything. He only squeezed Luke’s hand under the table.
Later, when the traditional portion relaxed into a lively party, the energy shifted into full celebration. Korean snacks and rice cakes filled the tables. A DJ started playing a mix of K-pop and American songs. People danced, laughed and toasted.
Luke had never felt more loved.
He and Young were constantly being pulled into photos by both their families, and each time, Luke caught Young looking at him like he was the sun itself.
At one point, Eli dragged Luke onto the dance floor, spinning him dramatically until Luke nearly fell over laughing. Nate joined in. Youngjae eventually found them, slipped behind Luke, and wrapped an arm around his waist possessively.
Eli winked. “Married for five hours and he already thinks he owns you.”
“He does own me,” Luke teased.
“You might need a collar to prove it,” Eli said.
“Isn’t a ring enough?” Luke asked, holding up his left hand to flash off his wedding band.
“No,” Eli scoffed. “A collar is much sexier.”
“Oh they definitely are,” Nate said, looking at Young mostly. “Collar’s are essential to keeping bottoms in line. Eli’s is red.”
“Babe!” Eli smacked his chest, cheeks pink.
Everyone howled with laughter.
Later still, Luke and Young sat at a small table off to the side, sharing a plate of tteok and whispering softly.
“Are you having fun?” Young asked, brushing Luke’s fringe out of his eyes.
“I’m having the best night of my life.”
Young leaned closer. “I keep expecting to wake up.”
“You’re not dreaming,” Luke whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re stuck with me now.”
Young smiled, soft and utterly smitten. “Good. I want forever with you.”
“Here’s to forever,” Luke said, raising his champagne glass.
“Forever,” Youngjae murmured, tapping his own champagne glass against Luke’s.
They were still smiling at each other when a sudden shift in the atmosphere rippled across the room. A few heads turned. A chair scraped. Someone muttered, “Oh fuck—” under their breath.
Luke and Young both looked toward the drinks table just in time to see Maddy storm away, her face blotchy, eyes glossy with tears. She didn’t look at anyone as she pushed through the crowd and disappeared down the hallway. Gabe stood where she’d left him, shoulders tight, jaw clenched, one hand gripping the edge of the table as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.
“Oh no…” Luke whispered.
Young’s hand found the small of his back instantly. Luke didn’t hesitate as he crossed the floor toward Gabe, weaving through guests, trying to keep the mood from collapsing entirely.
“Gabe?” Luke asked softly once they were close enough. “Hey. Are you alright?”
Gabe lifted his head. He was drunk. Not tipsy… drunk. Eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, chest heaving like he’d been running.
Luke felt his stomach drop.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fucking great,” Gabe slurred, waving vaguely at nothing. “Tonight’s… nice. Everyone’s nice. S’nice.”
Luke shot Young a worried look.
“Gabe,” Luke said carefully, “do you wanna sit down? Maybe get some water? I’ll help you.”
“Water?” Gabe repeated, scoffing. “I don’t need water. I’m fine.” He reached for another glass of champagne, almost knocking half the table over in the process.
Young subtly took the glass away.
Gabe glared at him. “What? I can drink. It’s a wedding, isn’t it? It’s supposed to be festive. I get to drink if I want to, just like everyone else in the room.”
Luke gently guided him a little further from the table so he wouldn’t draw a crowd. “We’re not saying you can’t. We just… did something happen with Maddy?”
Gabe’s face crumpled for a brief second before he forced it back into a familiar, brittle smile. “Nothing happened. Nothing ever happens the way it’s supposed to.”
Luke swallowed. He felt Young shift protectively behind him.
Gabe leaned forward slightly, unfocused eyes landing on Luke’s face. “Y’know what I always thought about?” he said loudly, voice wobbling. “Going to your wedding and being your best man.”
“I…” Luke trailed off, guilt running through him. He swallowed thickly. “I…I was going to ask you. I was. I just thought… I thought you wouldn’t want to…”
Gabe scoffed. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
“I did think of you first,” Luke said quickly.
“Then why didn’t you ask?” Gabe asked sharply.
Luke felt his chin wobble. “I…I just thought that you didn’t want to be… you know?”
“What?” Gabe asked dryly.
“Maybe we should talk about this later,” Youngjae murmured, hand tightening around Luke’s waist.
“Why?” Gabe asked sharply, looking at his new brother in law. “Am I not allowed to ask why my only sibling didn’t want me as their best man?”
Young sighed. “No, I just —”
“Then don’t get involved, Young,” Gabe said in a low voice. “This is between me and my sister.”
The world stopped.
Everything stopped.
The music, the laughter, the chatter. It all simply… fell away.
Luke’s whole body went cold. Young stiffened beside him. A glass clattered somewhere across the room. Someone gasped. Luke wasn’t sure if he imagined it or if it was real.
His father was the one who snapped first.
“Gabriel!” Dad roared from across the tables, voice shaking with fury Luke had never heard from him before. “Watch your mouth!”
But Luke didn’t flinch. He didn’t move at all. He stood perfectly still, as if turning to stone would stop the hurt from sinking deeper. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t blink. His own mind went silent, hushing everything except the echo of a single, brutal sentence.
My sister.
My sister.
My sister.
Young moved instantly, stepping closer, hand reaching for Luke’s arm, but Luke didn’t register the touch. Or the shouting. Or the way several guests had turned to stare.
His parents surged forward. His mom grabbed Gabe’s arm, yelling at him to apologise and to take it back, but Gabe was too drunk to understand what he’d done. His father was seething, shouting over him, the two of them arguing in a blistering clash of voices.
None of it reached Luke. He heard it like it was happening underwater, muffled and far away.
Young cupped his face with both hands, bending his knees so he could meet Luke’s eyes. “Luke. Luke, nae sarang. Hey. Look at me. Please.”
But Luke wasn’t looking at anything. He stared straight ahead, tears welling but not falling, lips parted slightly as if he’d forgotten how to speak, how to breathe, how to be. His whole wedding blurred around him. His heart felt like it had been punched straight through. Because out of all the people in the world… Out of everyone he had fought to be seen… Out of every step he had taken to live openly and truthfully… He never imagined Gabe, his Gabe, would rip him backwards like this.
And the worst part… the worst part of all… Was that it didn’t even seem to occur to Gabe that he’d said anything wrong.
Young kept whispering something. Maybe his name, or gentle reassurances, but Luke couldn’t hear it. He was frozen. Shattered. Standing in the centre of the happiest night of his life… feeling the sharpest pain he had felt in years.
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