Array
(
[text] =>
The ride back home to Luke’s parents house felt unreal in the best possible way.
Youngjae and Luke were curled together in the back of the Uber. their legs were tangled and Luke’s head was tucked beneath Young’s chin while the city lights blurred past the windows. Their skin was still golden from the Thai sun. Luke traced lazy shapes into Young’s palm, half-asleep, smiling to himself.
They were almost giddy with the thought of what came next. A few more weeks at Luke’s parents’ house with no schedules and no pressure, just borrowed sunshine, familiar rooms, and stolen kisses in the kitchen when no one was looking. Luke couldn’t wait to sink back into that softness before real life started again.
Boston loomed after that, but in a way that felt exciting rather than heavy. Luke would be starting his new job at the art and history museum. It was something that still didn’t quite feel real when he said it out loud. Youngjae would keep coaching little league lacrosse, muddy trainers and all. Luke loved seeing him interact with all the kids there. It was so cute. Young was adorable.
And then there was the apartment.
Their apartment.
Small, slightly cramped, probably overpriced… but theirs. The first place they would truly share. No parents’ houses, no dorm rooms, no borrowed space. Luke felt a flutter in his chest at the thought of unpacking boxes together, arguing over where the mugs should go, falling asleep on a couch that belonged to both of them.
Young pressed a kiss into Luke’s hair, voice low and content. “You ready to go back to reality?”
“Hell no,” Luke groaned a little. “Can’t we just go back to Thailand? I can honestly see myself living there.”
“Me too, to be honest.”
“Would you ever wanna move to Korea?” Luke asked, peering up at Youngjae.
“Yeah, I would love to. It’s beautiful there.”
“Maybe you could take me one day.”
“I’ll be taking you all the time,” Young said in a serious voice. “I have a lot of family there. I want everyone to meet you, and I wanna show you everything. Honestly it’s amazing.”
“I can’t wait,” Luke beamed.
The Uber pulled up outside the house just as the sky was starting to dim, that soft early–evening blue settling over everything. The driver hopped out and helped wrestle their suitcases from the trunk, stacking them neatly on the side while Luke thanked him a little too enthusiastically, still floaty from travel and sun and love.
Inside, the house felt strangely quiet.
“We’re home!” Luke called out.
Silence.
“Mom? Dad?” Luke called out as he nudged the door shut with his foot, the echo of his voice travelling a little too far down the hallway.
Nothing.
He frowned slightly, exchanging a look with Young.
“Huh. They probably popped out. Shopping or something,” he mumbled.
Young hummed in agreement, already toeing off his trainers. The familiarity of the house wrapped around them instantly. Luke didn’t realise how tense his shoulders had been until they finally dropped.
Luke kicked his shoes aside and all but collapsed onto the couch, dragging Young down with him. Young laughed softly as he landed half on top of Luke, limbs everywhere, before settling properly and pulling Luke into his chest. Luke melted there, face pressed into Young’s shoulder, a deep, exhausted sigh leaving him.
“God, I’m dead,” Luke muttered.
“Same,” Young said, stroking his thumb along Luke’s arm. “Jet-lagged. Emotionally wrecked. Sunburned in places I didn’t know could burn.”
Luke snorted weakly, eyes already closing again. They lay there tangled together, suitcases abandoned by the door, the quiet house humming around them. For now, there was nowhere else they needed to be, nothing else they needed to do.
“Does this mean we’re allowed to sleep together here now?” Young asked tiredly, running his hands through Luke’s hair which was getting longer.
“Try and stop me, husband,” Luke replied.
“Good because I genuinely don’t know if i’ll be able to sleep without you next to me anymore.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“It’s true,” Young said seriously. “If I don’t feel you next to me, I might panic.”
“You’re cute,” Luke pecked his lips. “And dramatic.”
“This is how it starts.”
“How what starts?”
Young’s mouth twitched. “How codependency starts.”
Luke huffed a laugh. “Oh, please. You survived over 20 years without me.”
“Barely,” Young said solemnly. “Those were dark days.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet you married me,” Young shot back, nose brushing Luke’s. “Legally binding yourself to the drama forever.”
Luke smiled, soft and fond. “I like the drama. Keeps life interesting.”
Young sighed theatrically and tucked Luke closer. “Just wait until I start complaining about back pain and the neighbours being too loud.”
“I already complain about the neighbours,” Luke said. “You’ll have to find a new personality trait.”
Young opened his mouth to argue but the front door opened. Not loudly. Not with the usual clatter of keys and bags and Luke’s mom calling out before she’d even crossed the threshold. It opened carefully. Closed just as carefully. Luke’s parents appeared in the doorway a moment later.
Luke’s mom looked exhausted. Her hair was pulled back messily, dark circles sitting heavily under her eyes. His dad’s shoulders were slumped in a way Luke had never really seen before, like the weight of something was pressing him down.
Neither of them smiled.
Luke sat up slowly. “Hey… are you okay?”
His mom tried. She really did. Her lips twitched upwards for half a second before giving up entirely. “You’re home.”
“Yeah, we just got back.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said quietly.
Young straightened too, instinctively sliding a hand to Luke’s knee. The room felt different all of a sudden. Thicker. Heavy.
“What’s wrong?” Luke asked again.
Luke’s dad cleared his throat. “Can we… can we all just sit for a minute?”
“Yeah,” Luke said quickly. “Yeah, of course.”
They sat opposite them, close together on the armchair, Luke’s mom twisting her hands in her lap. Luke couldn’t stop staring at them, at the way they looked like they hadn’t slept in days, like something had been gnawing at them nonstop. Young’s thumb rubbed slow, grounding circles against Luke’s knee.
Luke swallowed. “Okay, you’re scaring me now. What is it? What’s wrong?”
Luke’s mom didn’t answer straight away. Her breath hitched once. Then again. And suddenly she was crying. Not quietly, not politely… but the kind of broken, shaking sobs that seemed to tear straight out of her chest. She folded forward, hands flying up to her face as if she could physically hold herself together.
“Mom?” Luke whispered, panic flooding his voice as he shot to his feet. “Mom.”
His dad wrapped an arm around her shoulders as if she might collapse without it. His own face was pale, eyes red-rimmed and hollow.
“Luke,” dad said hoarsely. He swallowed hard, jaw tightening. “Sit down, son. Please.”
Luke didn’t realise he was shaking until Young stood too, steadying him with both hands. Luke let himself be guided back onto the couch, his heart pounding so loudly it felt like it was filling his ears.
“What…” Luke breathed out shakily. “Tell me. What happened?”
His mom made a strangled sound, shaking her head over and over, unable to speak.
His dad closed his eyes for a second, like he was bracing himself against something unbearable. When he opened them again, there were tears there too.
“Gabe… tried to kill himself,” he said quietly.
The words landed wrong. They didn’t make sense. They hovered in the air between them, unreal, disconnected.
Luke stared at him. “No,” he said automatically. “No, he… Gabe wouldn’t—”
“He was found a few days ago,” his dad continued, voice trembling despite his effort to keep it steady. “Maddy called the ambulance. He… he was drinking and he took a lot of pills, Luke.”
Luke’s chest felt tight. Too tight. Like there wasn’t enough air in the room.
Pills?
What?
“Is he—” Luke couldn’t finish the sentence.
His dad’s hand tightened on his mom’s shoulder. “Hfe’s in a coma.”
The room went silent.
Luke’s vision blurred. His ears rang. Somewhere, very far away, he could hear his mom crying into his dad’s chest, the sound muffled and raw.
A coma.
Gabe. His brother. Loud, infuriating, stubborn Gabe. The same Gabe who had shaken Young’s hand stiffly at the house. The same Gabe who had stood at Luke’s wedding and looked like he didn’t quite belong there anymore. The same Gabe who had punctured a whole straight through Luke’s heart.
Luke’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Young moved closer, wrapping an arm around Luke’s shoulders. Luke barely registered it. His body felt numb, like someone had unplugged him from himself.
“He’s been in the hospital,” his dad said softly. “They don’t know when, or if, he’ll wake up.”
Luke finally made a sound. It wasn’t a word. Just a broken, breathless noise that slipped out of him as his hands came up to cover his mouth. “I—” he choked. “I didn’t… I should’ve—”
Young held him tighter, pressing his forehead gently to Luke’s temple. “Hey,” he murmured. “Not right now.”
Luke’s mom lifted her head then, eyes red and swollen, tears streaking down her cheeks. “We wanted to tell you as soon as we found out. We really did. But we just wanted you to enjoy your honeymoon first. We didn’t want to…” she broke down again.
Luke’s heart shattered. He folded forward, burying his face in Young’s chest as the weight of it all finally crushed him, his shoulders starting to shake as he sobbed too, for the brother he loved, for the words left unsaid, for the fight he never thought would end like this. Young didn’t let go. Not for a second.
Luke’s breath suddenly came too fast.
Too shallow.
Too loud.
He pulled away from Young so suddenly it startled them both, his hands shoving at Young’s chest as if the contact burned.
“I… I need—” Luke gasped, backing away. “I can’t.”
“Luke?” Young reached for him instinctively. “Hey.”
But Luke had already turned and bolted. His feet barely touched the stairs as he took them two at a time, chest tight, throat closing, his mind screaming over itself.
Gabe.
You weren’t ready to forgive.
You started to hate him.
You didn’t answer his calls.
You left.
You took his best friend away.
He was alone.
He was alone.
He was alone.
Luke slammed the bathroom door behind him and twisted the lock with shaking hands. The click sounded final. Terrifyingly loud. He staggered to the sink, bracing himself against it as his reflection swam in the mirror. His chest clenched hard, like a fist closing around his lungs.
He sucked in air and it didn’t help.
Again.
Nothing.
His heart raced, thudding painfully, his hands starting to tingle as panic crept up his arms and into his throat.
“No, no, no,” Luke muttered, sliding down until he was sitting on the cold tile floor, back against the door. “Please stop.”
He pressed his palms flat against his chest, trying to feel something steady. Trying to remember how to breathe properly.
In for four.
Hold.
Out for six.
It barely worked. Images flashed behind his eyes of Gabe at the wedding, a glass of champagne in his hand. Gabe saying the word sister. Gabe shaking Young’s hand like it was a chore. Gabe asking where Luke was and why he wasn’t Luke’s best man. Gabe looking lonely in a room full of people.
Luke let out a broken sob and curled in on himself, knees pulled tight to his chest. “It’s my fault,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s all my fault. I did this. I pushed him away.”
A soft knock sounded on the other side of the door.
“Yeobo,” Young’s voice came through, gentle and strained. “It’s me. I’m right here.”
Luke squeezed his eyes shut. “Please,” he said, voice cracking. “Just… just give me a minute.”
There was a pause. A breath. “Okay. Okay, it’s fine. I’m not going anywhere,” Young said quietly. “I’ll sit right here. Take all the time you need.”
Luke pressed his forehead to his knees, tears dripping onto his bare arms as his breathing slowly began to steady, not because the guilt had gone, but because Young was still there. Waiting. Holding space for him even when Luke couldn’t bear to be held.
The panic ebbed, inch by inch.
But the guilt didn’t.
・・・・・
The hospital room smelled faintly of antiseptic and something plasticky when everyone walked in, the kind of smell Luke thought would follow him forever if he let it. The door swung shut softly behind them, and suddenly Gabe was there. Still. Too still.
Luke’s feet stopped moving without him realising. His fingers dug into Young’s sleeve, nails biting through fabric as his eyes fixed on the bed.
Gabe lay propped up against stiff white pillows, skin pale beneath the harsh lights. There were tubes, too many of them, taped to his face, disappearing into his mouth, running down to machines that hummed and beeped with quiet insistence. His chest rose and fell, but only just.
Luke’s stomach dropped. “Oh god,” he whispered. “Why… why does he—?” He couldn’t finish the sentence. His throat closed, panic spiking sharp and immediate, like his body had decided it was happening again.
The nurse stepped forward quickly, calm and practised. “It’s okay,” she said gently, hands raised in reassurance. “I know it looks frightening.”
Luke shook his head, breath already stuttering. “Is he—is he okay? Is he choking? He can’t… he can’t even—”
Young shifted closer, pressing a steadying hand to Luke’s lower back.
“He’s intubated,” the nurse explained softly, keeping her voice slow. “The tube is helping him breathe while his body rests. He’s in a medically induced coma so his brain can heal without stress.”
Luke’s ears rang.
“So he’s not… in pain?” His voice was barely there.
“No,” she said firmly. “He’s not aware of any of this right now. He’s stable. The machines are doing the work for him.”
Luke swallowed hard, eyes never leaving Gabe’s face. His brother looked younger like this. Smaller. Stripped of all that sharpness and anger and noise.
Luke’s mom made a quiet, broken sound beside him, pressing her hand over her mouth. His dad wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her upright even though he looked like he might fold too.
Luke took a shaky step closer to the bed. “I didn’t know,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “I swear I didn’t know.”
Young leaned in, murmuring only for Luke. “He’s still here. That’s what matters.”
Luke nodded, though tears blurred his vision. He reached out slowly, carefully, until his fingers hovered just above Gabe’s hand, unsure if he was allowed. He was suddenly unsure of everything. When he finally let himself touch him, Gabe’s skin was warm. Luke’s breath hitched, and this time, he didn’t fight the tears. His fingers curled properly this time, wrapping around Gabe’s hand like he was afraid it might slip away if he loosened his grip. His shoulders shook as the words started tumbling out of him, messy and desperate.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m so fucking sorry, Gabe. I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve known. I should’ve—” His voice broke completely. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted any of this.”
Mom let out another choked sob.
Luke leaned closer to the bed, his forehead touching Gabe’s. “Please wake up,” he begged quietly. “Please. I’ll fix it. I swear I’ll fix it.”
The machines continued to beep.
“I love you,” Luke whispered, tears streaming down his face. “And I forgive you. For everything. I… I don’t care what you said. I don’t care what happened. Just…please don’t go. I know it’s all my fault and I swear to you, I’ll fix this. I will. I’ll fix everything. Please just don’t leave.”
Young stood just behind him, helpless, watching Luke fold in on himself. He reached out, resting a hand between Luke’s shoulder blades, rubbing small, steady circles. “Hey,” he said softly. “Come on, Luke. This isn’t your fault.”
Luke flinched like he’d been burned. He turned so fast it startled everyone in the room, eyes wild and red-rimmed, jaw clenched so tight it trembled. “Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t you dare say that to me.”
Young froze. “I’m just saying—”
“No,” Luke cut in, voice rising, sharp and shaking. “No. You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to decide whose fault it was.”
The anger came out of nowhere, hot and ugly, fuelled by fear and guilt and months of swallowed pain. Luke shoved at Young’s chest, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make his point.
“This is your fault,” he said, breathless.
“What?” Young asked in a small voice.
“This is your fault. It’s your fault and it’s mine. It’s both of our faults. We did this. We did this to him, Youngjae. If we hadn’t—if I hadn’t—” His voice cracked again, but he pushed through it. “He lost everything because of us. His best friend. His place in the family. His fucking brother.”
Young’s face fell, stunned. “Luke.”
“You think he just woke up one day like this?” Luke laughed bitterly, tears streaming down his face. “You think it had nothing to do with us rubbing our happiness in his face? With me choosing you over him every single time? With you deciding that you wanted me more than you wanted him?”
“That’s not fair,” Young said quietly, pain threading through his voice. “I never wanted to hurt him. You know that. We talked about it. It was never meant to hurt him.”
“Well, congratulations,” Luke shot back. “You did.”
The room felt too small. Luke’s parents stood frozen, his mom crying silently, his dad staring at the floor like he couldn’t bear to look at either of them.
Young took a step back, hands dropping to his sides. He looked wrecked, like every word had landed exactly where Luke meant it to. “I love you,” Young said, voice barely holding together. “But what you’re saying? It isn’t the truth. This is just the grief talking.”
“Don’t do that!” Luke snapped, eyes blazing. “Don’t try and make me feel better about this. It’s our fault, and you know it.”
“No,” Youngjae said, voice desperate and pleading. “No, Luke. This wasn’t just about us. He was going through a lot, you know that. The whole drinking thing, his fight with Maddy, and—”
“And us!” Luke yelled.
Youngjae flinched.
“And us,” Luke repeated brokenly. “We hurt him too.”
“But…”
Luke turned away from him, back to Gabe’s bed, shoulders heaving. “I don’t care what you have to say to me right now,” he muttered. “I just want him to wake up.”
“Yeobo,” Youngjae called out softly.
“No,” Luke choked out. “Don’t.”
And for the first time since they’d walked into the room, Young didn’t reach for him again. He took another step back and stayed quiet, eyes misting over with tears. He looked over at his mother and father in law and they stared back. Nobody said anything and Young suddenly felt sick. He felt sick, and he needed to leave.
Without a word, he walked out of the hospital room with his head hung low. Nobody called after him. Nobody told him to stop. Luke didn’t realise. Didn’t care. All he cared about in this moment was whether or not his brother would survive.
He didn’t even realise where he was going at first. He walked until the doors hissed shut behind him and the corridor swallowed him up. It was too bright, too clean, and too fucking quiet. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. Not right now. His hands were shaking. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t get a full breath no matter how hard he tried. He dragged a hand through his hair and started pacing, back and forth, back and forth, the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking softly against the floor.
What the hell had just happened?
Luke’s words kept replaying in his head, sharp and cruel and terrified all at once.
This is your fault.
Every step felt like penance. Every breath burned.
He stopped abruptly, leaning against the wall, sliding down until he was half-crouched, elbows braced on his knees. His phone felt impossibly heavy in his hand. There was only one person who might know what had tipped Gabe over the edge. Only one person who’d been close enough to see it coming.
Maddy answered on the third ring.
“Hello?” Her voice was hoarse, tired, like she’d been crying for hours.
“Maddy,” Young croaked. He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound like that, but the second he said her name, something inside him cracked. “It’s me. I—I’m at the hospital.”
There was a pause. A shaky inhale on the other end of the line. “I know,” she said quietly. “I’m… I’m in the café downstairs. I couldn’t go back in yet.”
Young squeezed his eyes shut. “What happened?” he asked, the question tumbling out of him, raw and desperate. “Please. I don’t understand. He was… he was drinking, yeah, but why? Why did he do this?”
Maddy didn’t answer straight away. When she did, her voice was small. “He wasn’t okay, Young. Not for a long time.”
Young slid fully down the wall now, sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cool paint. “I know he wasn’t great,” he whispered. “But this—this is different. Something must’ve happened.”
“He felt like he’d lost everything,” Maddy said, and that was when Young knew she was crying again. “His degree was over. Being out of college was too different for him. The pro stuff scared him more than he let on. His parents kept pushing. And then the wedding…”
Young’s stomach dropped. “The wedding?”
“He drank way too much,” she continued. “And when he said that thing to Luke… God, I wish I was there. I could have stopped it, but we had a fight and I left. I said I couldn’t do it anymore. I told him that until he stopped drinking so much, I couldn’t be with him. We broke up.”
“You did?” Young frowned.
“Yeah. We did. I’ve never seen him look so sad. He came over that night after the wedding and I could tell he was hammered. He kept saying he’d ruined everything. He told me what happened. Like, what he said to Luke. That he’d finally made it so Luke would never forgive him.”
Young’s throat closed. He pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, hard. “Luke does forgive him,” he whispered. “He just needed time to process it, that’s all. I would’ve helped to calm him down if I had known. I would’ve—”
“I know,” Maddy said gently. “I told him that. Over and over. But he didn’t believe he deserved help. He thought everyone would be better off without him.”
The words hit like a punch to the chest.
Young shook his head, tears finally spilling over. “That’s not true,” he said brokenly. “That’s not true at all. Luke loves him. He—he worships him.”
“I know,” Maddy suddenly sobbed. “But Gabe couldn’t see that anymore.”
There was a long stretch of silence, broken only by Young’s uneven breathing and the distant hum of hospital machinery. When he finally spoke again, his voice was barely there.
“Luke thinks it’s our fault,” he admitted. “He said it was mine. That I took everything from Gabe. He’s right. I must have made him miserable.”
Maddy inhaled sharply. “Young… no. No, this isn’t on you. Or Luke. Gabe was sick. He needed help he didn’t ask for.”
“I know,” Young said, though it didn’t feel true in his chest. “But Luke doesn’t realise that and I don’t know how to reach him right now. He wants nothing to do with me.”
“You can’t fix this tonight,” Maddy said softly. “You just have to wait it out.”
“What if we can’t?” Young asked. “We just came back from our honeymoon, Maddy. And now, it’s like, he doesn’t even want me to touch him. You should have seen his face.”
“It’s going to take some time.”
“What happens if Gabe…”
“He’s going to wake up,” Maddy said strongly. “I know he will.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I just know him,” Maddy said. “He’s strong. He was having a weak moment and gave in to the thoughts, but I know he’s going to wake up.”
“I hope so.”
The call ended not long after that. Young didn’t remember hanging up.
He stayed there on the floor, phone limp in his hand, shoulders shaking as the sobs finally tore their way out of him. He covered his face, muffling the sound, heart breaking in every direction at once—for Gabe in that hospital bed, for Luke tearing himself apart with guilt, and for himself, standing outside the room because loving them both suddenly felt impossible.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, breathing hard, and stared down the corridor towards the room he’d just left. He didn’t know when he’d be able to go back in, but he knew one thing, with a sickening certainty: Nothing was ever going to be the same again.
[text_hash] => ff7df0cf
)