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The hotel suite looked like something out of a dream; warm golden lamplight, soft music humming through hidden speakers, rose petals scattered across the bed and floor, a chilled bottle of champagne waiting in an ice bucket, fairy lights draped along the balcony railing outside.
It should have felt magical. It should have felt like the beginning of something perfect.
Instead, Luke walked inside like a ghost, still holding his bouquet without realising it, expression hollowed out and distant. His hands trembled faintly at his sides. He didn’t look around the room. He didn’t react to any of the surprises Young had planned. He simply stood there. Alive, but not present.
Youngjae locked the door behind them, watching him carefully and cautiously, like Luke might fall apart if he breathed too loud.
“Luke,” Young whispered gently, stepping toward him. “Baby…”
Luke blinked once, slow, as if his eyelids were heavy.
“Do you want…” Young cleared his throat, voice soft and steady even though his eyes were full of worry, “do you want me to run you a bath? A warm one? It might help. I can grab your clean clothes. You don’t need to do anything. Just sit with me.”
Luke didn’t answer. He stared at the carpet. His jaw tightened, then relaxed, then tightened again.
Young reached out slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal. He brushed his fingers against Luke’s cheek. “I love you,” he said quietly. “So, so much. And it’s,” his voice cracked, just a little, “it’s our wedding night, but none of that matters unless you’re okay.”
Luke’s breath hitched. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t speaking. He just looked… empty. Like Gabe’s words had scooped something out of him and left a hollow space that wasn’t filling back in.
Young’s heart cracked at the sight. “Hey,” he murmured, cupping Luke’s face gently, “look at me?”
Luke didn’t. His eyes flicked past Young’s shoulder, unfocused.
Young swallowed thickly. “You’re allowed to feel this. Anyone would feel this. He hurt you. More than anyone else could.”
A tear finally slipped down Luke’s cheek. Just one. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out.
“I’m sorry this happened tonight,” Young whispered. “Of all nights. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Luke blinked again, another tear falling. “I don’t want to ruin it,” he finally whispered, his voice so small it barely existed.
Young shook his head quickly, stepping even closer, touching their foreheads together. “No. You’re not ruining anything,” he said firmly. “This night is ours because we’re together. Not because of champagne or roses or fancy lights. It’s ours because you’re my husband now.”
Luke closed his eyes. His shoulders trembled.
“Let me take care of you,” Young whispered, thumb brushing Luke’s cheek as if he were made of glass. “Please. Just let me take care of you.”
Luke’s mouth opened in a shaky breath, the first sign of something breaking through the numbness, and he finally leaned forward, collapsing gently into Youngjae’s chest, arms hanging limp at his sides as Young wrapped him up tightly, protectively.
Young held him there, in the middle of their beautiful hotel room, surrounded by decorations meant for celebration. He kissed Luke’s temple. He stroked his hair. He whispered, over and over: “I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
And Luke stayed pressed against him, silent and fragile, letting himself be held together by the man he married, because right now, he couldn’t hold himself together at all.
Young eventually guided Luke with slow, careful movements. Luke followed without protest, eyes unfocused, expression dazed. They toed off their shoes, jackets sliding off and falling forgotten to the carpet. Then Young eased them onto the bed, lying sideways on top the covers. Luke curled immediately into him, face pressed into Young’s chest like he was trying to disappear inside him. His fists clutched lightly at Young’s shirt.
Young settled an arm around him, fingers sliding into Luke’s hair and stroking gently, rhythmically. Long, slow sweeps meant to soothe. To anchor. Luke exhaled shakily against him.
“Do you want me to talk?” Young murmured into his hair. “Or just hold you?”
Luke made a tiny sound. It was a soft hum, barely there…but Young took it as a yes. So he talked. Not about Gabe. Not about the reception. Not about what had happened, because Luke wasn’t ready for that and Young refused to force him into it. He talked about home.
“You know…” Young began, his voice low and warm, “my cousin Minji messaged me earlier today. She sent me a picture of her outfit. Said she wished she could have flown over but last minute plans came in the way. She sent me a bunch of money though, so there’s that.”
Luke shifted just slightly, listening.
“And my halmeoni… she would’ve loved tonight.” Young smiled faintly, even though his chest felt tight. “She’s old now and wouldn’t have been able to hack the flight over, but she fucking loves parties. She would’ve tried to feed you before the ceremony even started. And she would’ve cried a lot. Like, embarrassing amounts.”
Luke made the smallest breathy sound, almost a laugh, if it weren’t so fragile.
Young kept stroking his hair, kept talking softly. “And my cousins who were here today? They think you’re hot, by the way. Literally every single one asked me for details. Had to tell them you’re mine now.”
Luke twitched, mumbling a weak, “Mm.”
Young smiled. “Yeah? You like that?”
Another tiny hum, affirmative this time.
He continued, voice gentle. “Halmeoni always told me to wear hanbok on big days. She’d be proud we did it properly.”
Luke swallowed, a shaky breath pushing against Young’s chest. “Pretty,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” Young agreed softly. “You looked beautiful.”
Luke went still.
Young felt the tremor in him, felt the instinctive flinch behind it. Felt the old wounds, the old insecurities. He quickly corrected himself, brushing a thumb over the back of Luke’s head.
“Handsome,” he murmured into Luke’s hair. “So god damn perfect. You looked perfect.”
Luke inhaled sharply, hiding deeper in his chest.
Young kissed the top of his head. “Our wedding was perfect,” he whispered. “Because I got you. Because we made it here. Because despite everything… we chose each other.”
Luke’s fingers curled tighter into his shirt, clinging. He tried to speak. Young felt the tiny movement of his jaw. But the words tangled in his throat. Instead, Luke managed a faint, broken, “Sorry.”
“No,” Young said instantly, firm and soft at the same time. “No apologies. Not from you.”
Luke’s breath hitched.
Young held him closer. “Just stay here. Breathe with me. That’s all I need.”
Luke stayed. Silent. Trembling. But he stayed pressed to Young’s heart like it was the only place he still existed. And Young kept stroking his hair, talking quietly about cousins and grandmothers and hanboks and anything soft and gentle, anything that might keep Luke tethered to the world until he felt steady again.
This was their wedding night and it wasn’t going how either of them imagined. They should have been happy. They should have been drunk. They should be naked and tangled together making love all night. But right now…Luke didn’t even want to think about letting Youngjae touch his body. His body that was still…half of his old self.
Luke felt sick.
How could he think that? How could he think about denying his actual husband his body on their wedding night? They had come so far. So fucking far. Luke started off their journey asking Young to touch him in the dark. To not look at his body. To not touch certain areas. They had slowly worked towards getting more intimate. Inch by inch. Luke allowed Young to touch him anywhere now. He let Young look at him completely naked, sprawled out on the bed. He let Young’s mouth touch and kiss anywhere. Literally, anywhere. Everywhere. It didn’t matter that he still had certain ‘female’ parts to him. Young still worshiped him like he was starved.
And now?
Now Luke felt sick at the idea of Youngjae touching or looking at him without his clothes on.
Luke’s breath hitched one, then twice, then his whole body jerked like something inside him had finally snapped. And he started crying. Not the quiet, shaky tears he’d been holding back all evening. Real, messy, horrifying sobs that tore straight out of his chest.
Young froze for a heartbeat, shocked, before pulling him upright, cupping Luke’s tear-wet cheeks with trembling hands. “Hey, hey, Luke, baby, what—”
“I’m getting bottom surgery.” The words burst out of him like a confession ripped from his bones.
Young blinked, stunned. “…What?”
“I’m doing it,” Luke said again, louder, desperate, like saying it might make all the pain disappear. “I need it. I’m booking it. I don’t care how long the waitlist is, I don’t care how painful. I’m getting it.”
Young’s face shifted. Not into joy. Not relief. Into something soft and pained and unsure. “Luke…” he breathed. “No. Not like this.”
Luke recoiled slightly, fresh panic flooding straight to his lungs. “What… what do you mean not like this? Aren’t you supposed to support me? You’re always supportive!”
“I am,” Young said quickly, grabbing Luke’s hands before he could pull away. “But that’s not what this is. You’re not talking to me right now. You’re talking to the part of yourself that got hurt tonight and thinks changing your body is the only way to stop that hurt.”
Luke’s face crumpled. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do,” Young said firmly, thumb brushing a tear from Luke’s chin. “Because this isn’t coming from peace. Or clarity. Or something you’ve been thinking through for months. It’s coming from Gabe.”
Luke flinched like he’d been slapped.
“It’s coming from that moment,” Young pressed on. “From being misgendered and humiliated on the most important night of your life. And you’re hurting so much you want to fix the hurt, not the body.”
Luke shook his head, sobbing again. “I still feel like I’m not even a man.”
Young’s expression shattered, soft and devastated all at once. He slid both hands to Luke’s jaw, holding him steady but tender. “Luke Davies,” he said, voice rough and certain, “you are the most manly man I have ever met.”
Luke squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming harder.
“You are a man when you wake up,” Young murmured. “A man when you laugh. A man when you cry on our wedding night. A man when you kiss me, when you hold me, when you protect the people you love, when you make stupid jokes, when you draw for hours, when you walk into every room with your stupid handsome face.”
A broken laugh slipped through Luke’s sobs.
Young pressed his forehead to Luke’s. “You are a man because you are Luke. Not because of what is or isn’t between your legs.”
Luke whimpered, collapsing into another round of tears, clutching at Young’s shirt like he might disappear. “I just… I just want to feel right,” Luke choked out. “I don’t want anyone to look at me and think I’m—think I’m—”
“Yeobo,” Young whispered, pulling him into his chest. “Bottom surgery won’t fix what Gabe did tonight and it won’t fix every asshole in the world. But if you want it someday, truly want it, then I will be the first person holding your hand through recovery. I swear to God.”
Luke sobbed hard into his throat.
“But not like this,” Young went on, stroking the back of Luke’s head as if soothing a child. “Not out of fear. Not out of shame. Not because some drunk idiot said something shitty.”
Luke’s breathing slowly began to even out, even though he was shaking violently.
“I love you,” Young whispered into his hair. “Exactly as you are. And when… or if… you want to talk about bottom surgery for you, not for anyone else… we will.”
Luke pulled back just enough to see his face, trembling, red-eyed, crumpled. “You really mean that?” he whispered.
Young nodded. “Every word.”
Luke hiccupped through the remnants of a sob. The two of them stayed pressed together, breathing in the same slow rhythm Young kept whispering for him to follow. Eventually Luke pulled back just enough to meet Young’s eyes.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Luke whispered, rubbing his face clumsily with the back of his hand. “I know it’s our wedding night and everything but… I don’t want to have sex tonight. I can’t. I just… I can’t.”
Young blinked… and then let out the softest, most incredulous scoff. “Luke,” he said, eyebrows rising, voice warm with disbelief, “I wasn’t even thinking about sex.”
Luke frowned. “You weren’t?”
Young gave him a look. It was a fond, exasperated, God-I-love-you-but-you-are-actually-an-idiot look.
“Yeobo,” he said, gently brushing Luke’s hair out of his face, “you had a panic attack so intense I thought you were going to pass out. You think I’m sitting here plotting how to get your clothes off?” He shook his head, laughing quietly. “Are you insane?”
Luke flushed hard, embarrassed. “I just… tonight was supposed to be special. And now I’ve ruined it. And you were talking about cousins and hanboks and I couldn’t even—”
“Luke,” Young cut in, cupping his face firmly with both hands so he had no choice but to look at him. “You didn’t ruin anything. Nothing about tonight is ruined. It changed. That’s all.”
“But—”
“No,” Young insisted, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “Listen to me. The only thing I want to do tonight is hold you. And make sure you’re okay. And maybe force you to drink water because you cried out half your body weight.”
A shaky laugh escaped Luke’s throat.
“And if you think,” Young added, leaning in to kiss Luke’s forehead, “that I’m ever going to pressure you into sex, whether it’s on our wedding night or any night, then you really don’t know the man you married.”
Luke felt his stomach flip at the words the man you married. He leaned forward until his forehead touched Young’s shoulder, another small tremor passing through him, but this one wasn’t fear. It was relief. “Salanghaeyo (I love you),” Luke whispered into his collar. “I’m sorry I’m like this.”
Young wrapped his arms tight around him, pulling him close, protective and steady. “You’re not ‘like’ anything,” he whispered back. “You’re Luke. My Luke. My very handsome, very sexy husband.”
Luke closed his eyes, breathing him in.
“And tonight,” Young murmured, kissing the top of his head, “sex is not on the menu. Sleep, cuddles, maybe feeding you chocolate strawberries? That’s the vibe.”
Luke let out the tiniest huff of laughter against his chest. “Okay,” he whispered. “I like that vibe.”
Young smiled, brushing another tear from his cheek with a gentle thumb. “Good. Because I’m not letting go of you until you fall asleep. And even then, it’ll be pretty difficult for me to keep my hands off you.”
Luke curled into him without resistance.
✨✨✨✨✨
The next morning, sunlight spilled through the hotel room curtains far too gently for how heavy Luke’s body felt. He and Young had woken tangled in the sheets, fully clothed, limbs looped together.
Young kissed his temple before they packed. Neither of them mentioned the reception. Neither of them said the name Gabe. They didn’t need to.
By the time they rolled their suitcases down to the lobby, Luke felt wrung out but steadier, held together by Young’s quiet presence, his soft hand resting against Luke’s back as the doors opened.
His parents’ car was waiting outside.
Mom got out the second she saw them. Her smile was warm, but her eyes were puffy, like she’d been crying too. Dad hugged Luke longer than usual, squeezing him tight like he needed the confirmation that his son was still here, still intact.
The drive to the airport was quiet. Even Young stayed silent, his hand resting gently over Luke’s knee.
When they arrived at departures, Young kissed Luke’s cheek and murmured, “I’ll check in our bags,” then disappeared into the queue with their suitcases.
Luke’s parents stayed behind with him.
For a moment, none of them spoke. The sounds of the airport felt strangely distant, like Luke was underwater again. He seemed to be zoning out a lot.
Mom touched his arm softly. “Sweetheart,” she whispered, “how are you feeling?”
Luke swallowed. His throat still ached from crying the night before. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I feel… stupid for letting him get to me.”
Dad shook his head immediately. “Luke. What he said wasn’t fair. Not even close.”
“It was the drink talking,” Mum added, though her expression tightened. “But even so… he was wrong.”
“He’s my brother,” Luke whispered, voice breaking all over again. “And he called me his—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. The word sister lodged in his throat like a shard of glass.
Mom’s eyes filled instantly. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “You’re my son,” she said fiercely into his hair. “You have always been my son. Nothing Gabe says changes that.”
Dad stepped in too, resting a hand on Luke’s back. “He’s hurting. That doesn’t excuse it. But he is hurting. He’ll realise what he did. I promise he will.”
Luke blinked rapidly, staring down at his shoes. “It was supposed to be the happiest night of my life. Now I just feel… ashamed. I feel like i’ve gone backwards. I couldn’t even… I feel bad for Young because he took care of me all night whilst I was crying. It should have been a good night but we just… we didn’t even…” Luke heaved a sigh. “Fucking hell. I’m a mess.”
“Oh, honey,” Mom whispered, cupping his cheek. “You have never gone backwards. Look at you. Look how far you’ve come. Top surgery. College. Love.” She smiled through tears. “You married a man who adores you with his whole heart. That’s not backward. That’s brave. That’s forward.”
Luke’s chest tightened.
Dad gave a small, gentle smile. “You’re allowed to hurt. But don’t let his mistake overshadow what you built yesterday. You built a new life. With Young.”
Luke nodded, breathing shakily. “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry. I just… I needed to hear that.”
“And you will hear it as many times as you need,” Mom said firmly, brushing his fringe aside the way she used to when he was small.
Just then, Youngjae jogged back over, waving the luggage receipts. “All checked in,” he said, slightly out of breath. “We just need to go through security.”
He looked between the three of them, reading the atmosphere instantly. His eyes softened, and when Luke stepped towards him, Young reached out and took his hand without hesitation.
Luke’s mom squeezed his shoulder one last time. “You two go enjoy your honeymoon,” she said. “You deserve every bit of joy coming your way.”
Luke nodded, letting Youngjae steer him gently toward the queue, their fingers entwined.
For the first time since last night, he felt a small spark of anticipation. Thailand. Sun. Beaches. Freedom. And Youngjae, his husband, at his side. The wound wasn’t healed. But it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Not with them behind him. And not with Young in front of him, guiding him into the next chapter.
authors note:
Here’s a little Korean language lesson 🙂
Yeobo — This means darling, or sweetheart, or honey. It’s commonly used between married couples
Salanghaeyo — I love you
Halmeoni — Grandmother
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