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Double update!
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The floodlights glared down on the field, washing everything in harsh white. The crowd was buzzing with parents clutching Styrofoam cups of coffee, students bundled in scarves and team hoodies, and the brass band playing something off-key but loud enough to rattle Luke’s ribs. He sat wedged between his parents and Eli, knees bouncing, pretending to follow the game. Gabe was in full captain mode, barking orders and running like his life depended on it. The rest of the team followed his lead, all fast and sharp, and sweaty.
But Luke wasn’t watching Gabe. Not really.
His eyes kept tracking him.
Young.
Number 17.
Every time he sprinted down the field, Luke’s stomach twisted, and he hated that it did. He told himself it was nerves or annoyance or maybe leftover tension from that fight last week, but he knew better. It wasn’t that simple. He hadn’t meant for things to blow up that night. They’d just been talking (actually talking) for once. Well, kinda. And then one wrong tone, wrong word, one too-long stare, and everything had cracked open.
“I’ll stay out of your way from now on,” Young had said, his voice cold, final.
And he had. He hadn’t dropped by the house, hadn’t looked Luke’s way when their paths crossed in the hall, and definitely hadn’t held eye contact for more than 0.1 seconds. It was like Luke had actually been erased. Now, watching him under the glare of the floodlights with his hair damp with sweat, his eyes focused, and his jaw tight…Luke felt that same weird ache crawl up his chest again.
“Your brother’s killing it tonight,” Eli said beside him, his voice breaking through Luke’s thoughts.
“Yeah,” Luke said automatically, eyes still glued to the field.
“You okay? You’ve been quiet.”
“When am I not?” Luke muttered.
Eli laughed a little. “True.”
Luke’s mom clapped as Gabe scored, leaning forward in excitement. His dad joined in, shouting something about “that’s my boy!” and Luke managed to lift his hands for a polite clap or two. But his gaze drifted right back to Young. He wasn’t even trying to look, but every time Young moved, Luke noticed.
But Young never once looked back. Not at the bleachers. Not at Gabe’s family. Not at him.
Luke sank deeper into his seat, a dull weight pressing on his chest. Maybe Young meant it. God, maybe he really was done pretending Luke mattered at all. After all, all Luke was to him was Gabe’s annoying little transgender sibling. They meant nothing to each other. Absolutely nothing.
“Hey,” Eli said, nudging him. “You sure you’re okay?”
Luke forced a half-smile. “Yeah. Just… watching the game. I’m pretty tired.” But his voice came out flat. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t look away and it stung realising that Young had made good on his promise to stay out of his way.
“You’re staring again.”
“Huh?” Luke mumbled, snapping out of his weird little daydreaming and self loathing.
“At that Korean guy. What’s his name?”
“Young,” Luke mumbled. “And i’m not staring.”
“What kind of name is Young?” Eli scoffed.
“It’s Youngjae. But everyone calls him Young. I’m not sure why. It’s not hard to pronounce,” Luke said with a bit of a frown on his face.
“Youngjae definitely sounds better,” Eli murmured. “He’s hot. Got that sexy body and face that matches. I’d gobble him all up for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
“Shh,” Luke smacked Eli’s arm, glancing at his parents to see if they had heard. Thankfully, they hadn’t and he glared at Eli. “Stop thirsting after straight boys. Remember what happened the last time you did that?”
Eli gasped. “We don’t talk about Colin.”
“You’re the one that said his name, not me.”
“You’re trying to distract me!” Eli said dramatically. “Why are you doing that?”
“I’m not doing anything. Just shut up and watch the game.”
Eli huffed but did as he was told.
The game eventually ended in a blur of cheers and clapping, the scoreboard flashing victory as the crowd spilled out onto the field. Luke’s parents stood, beaming, already calling Gabe’s name. Eli grinned beside Luke, tugging his sleeve to stand up.
Luke moved slower, dragging his feet as they made their way down to the field like they usually did after the games. The night air was sharp and cold, the grass slick under his sneakers, and for once he wasn’t thinking about how much he hated being here. His focus was on one person, and it wasn’t his brother.
Gabe spotted them instantly, helmet off, cheeks flushed with sweat and triumph. “Hey! You guys made it down here fast!” he laughed, pulling their mom into a hug.
“You were amazing,” she gushed.
“Proud of you, son,” his dad said, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder.
Luke hung back slightly, half-listening, until he saw movement just behind Gabe. The team had started to gather around, laughing and high-fiving each other. Young was among them, running a hand through his damp brown hair, grin lazy and easy like always. Luke’s chest tightened.
And then—
“Hey, Lola!”
The word cut through the noise like glass.
Luke froze. A pair of girls from the stands stood a few feet away, smirking with that same cruel, sing-song tone that always made his stomach drop.
“Nice hoodie,” one of them snickered.
He opened his mouth, something sharp already forming on his tongue, but before he could say anything, someone else spoke first.
“Fuck off,” Maddy snapped. She’d appeared at Gabe’s side, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed. “Seriously, are you twelve? Get a life.”
The girls blinked, then muttered something under their breath before slinking off.
Luke’s throat felt tight. He hadn’t expected her of all people to defend him. Gabe looked at him then, concern flickering across his face, but Luke just mumbled, “I’m fine,” and shoved his hands into his pockets. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing toward Young.
Young hadn’t said a word but he had definitely heard what the girls had said. His expression was annoyingly unreadable. His face was blank and his mouth was set in a tight line, but he didn’t laugh and he didn’t join in. He just stared at the ground. That somehow made it worse.
The rest of the team began heading toward the locker rooms, talking loudly, slapping each other’s backs. Gabe followed them, Maddy linked to his arm, and Luke watched until they disappeared into the tunnel beneath the stands.
“Guess that’s us done for the night,” Eli said, giving Luke a small smile. “I’ve gotta run, my dad is waiting for me.”
“Yeah,” Luke said distractedly. “See you Monday.”
“Cool. Later, dude.”
When Eli left, Luke was left with his parents. His mom rubbed her arms against the cold. “You coming with us, honey?”
Luke hesitated. He could’ve said yes. He should’ve said yes. But something pulled at him. It was a knot of unfinished words sitting heavy in his chest. “I’ll walk,” he said quickly. “It’s not far.”
“You sure?” his dad asked with a frown.
“Yeah. I just remembered I have a few things to collect from art class. I might be a while.”
“Can’t it wait till Monday?” mom asked.
“No, I need it for the weekend.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” she said hesitantly.
They then headed toward the car, and as soon as they were out of sight, Luke turned on his heel and started toward the locker rooms. The corridor leading under the bleachers was dim, echoing with the sound of laughter and the metallic clang of lockers. He slowed his pace, heart hammering a little harder the closer he got. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. But as steam drifted out from the doorway and Young’s voice echoed faintly from inside, Luke knew one thing for sure; He wasn’t ready to let things stay broken between them.
Luke lingered just outside the locker room for a moment. The air smelled faintly of sweat and body spray, and steam curled lazily out through the half-open door. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie as he tried to steady his nerves.
Truth was, Young had never really spoken to him before all this.
When Luke was still Lola, their paths had barely crossed. Sure, they’d said hi when Young came over—those short, polite greetings while Luke hovered in the background of Gabe’s endless hangouts. Young had always been part of that tight-knit circle of wannabe jocks who filled their house with noise and laughter and the smell of pizza. He’d never been cruel. Just distant. Indifferent. And honestly, Luke had preferred it that way. It was easier being invisible than being seen wrong.
But ever since that stupid drunken comment, the apologies, the back-and-forth and their first big fight…Young had somehow slipped under his skin. It annoyed Luke how much space he took up in his head now. How the silence between them now felt heavier than any insult they’d ever thrown. And maybe part of that weight came from guilt. Because Gabe and Young had plans. Big ones. They were both aiming for the same college next year, both hoping to play lacrosse at a higher level. They’d been best friends since forever and Luke didn’t want to be the reason that friendship cracked.
That’s what he kept telling himself anyway. That he was doing this for Gabe, not for himself. Not because Young’s quiet apologies had stuck to him like glue. Not because of the way his stomach had twisted seeing him out on the field tonight, too far to reach but impossible to ignore.
No.
He was here to fix things so his brother’s future wouldn’t get messed up. That was all.
Luke froze with his hand half-raised toward the handle.
Right. This was the boys’ locker room. And while he was, technically, allowed in there now… it didn’t feel right. It never did. Not with how guys still looked at him sometimes, like he was some kind of intruder. Not with how tense everything got when he changed for gym or how he’d rather wear three layers of clothes than peel them off under that kind of scrutiny. If he walked in now? God, no. That would be weird. And if Gabe saw him talking to Young in there, he’d never hear the end of it.
So he leaned against the cold concrete wall instead, stuffing his hands into his pockets, trying to look like he wasn’t just standing there waiting.
Every few seconds, a player emerged with their towel slung around their neck, laughing about some play they’d messed up or some plan for after the game. Luke kept his head down each time, pretending to scroll through his phone, heart thudding uncomfortably fast.
Then, finally, the crowd thinned.
Young appeared in the doorway, hair damp, jersey half-stuffed into his duffel bag. He looked tired, not the usual smug and effortless version of himself that Luke had come to expect. Just quiet. He stopped mid-step when he saw Luke leaning against the wall.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Luke cleared his throat, pushing off the wall like this wasn’t the most awkward thing he’d done all week. “Uh. Hey.”
Young blinked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Hey.”
Silence again.
“I didn’t wanna, like… interrupt or anything,” Luke muttered, looking anywhere but at him. “I don’t know if you’re busy or whatever. I just wanted to talk.”
Young’s brows rose slightly, a mix of surprise and caution flickering across his face. “Talk?”
“Yeah.” Luke shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “About last week. About… y’know. The fight.”
Young nodded slowly, his eyes steady on him now. “Okay.”
Luke swallowed hard. His throat felt too tight, his words too small. He’d come all this way, told himself he was doing this for Gabe, but now that Young was right in front of him, looking at him like that, he wasn’t sure what to say. He shoved his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets and muttered, “Can we maybe… walk for a bit?”
Young studied him for a beat, then nodded once. “Sure.”
They fell into step beside each other, the noise from the field fading into the distance until all that was left was the sound of their sneakers crunching over gravel. The air was cold enough that every breath came out white, curling upward before vanishing into the night. The parking lot lamps buzzed faintly overhead, casting pale circles of light that their shadows slipped through.
“So what do you want?” Young finally asked, his tone unreadable.
Luke swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
Young blinked across at him, face flat and emotionless.
“I’m serious,” Luke said quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a big baby about everything. I was being overdramatic. You were right, I was holding a grudge and I shouldn’t be doing that to somebody who’s actually trying to make amends when not many people would.”
Young didn’t say anything. Just kept staring at him, his expression frustratingly calm.
Luke shifted on his feet, tugging at his sleeve. “Coming out as trans has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and I know I can be a little ruthless sometimes, but I guess some deranged part of me thinks that everyone should just accept me straight away and remember my new name and pronouns. I know that’s not how it works and I swear I’m trying to be a better person.”
Young sighed and looked down at the ground, his breath fogging in front of him.
Luke gnawed on his bottom lip. “I don’t want things to get weird between us. For Gabe’s sake.”
Young lifted his gaze again, eyes glinting faintly under the streetlight. “So that’s why you’re doing this? For Gabe?”
“I mean, yeah…” Luke mumbled. “Why else would I be doing this?”
A small frown tugged at the corner of Young’s mouth, something sharp flashing behind his eyes.
“Okay, look, just tell me what you want me to say and I’ll say it,” Luke blurted.
“I just want you to acknowledge what a dick you’ve been,” Young said flatly.
“I already know that.”
“You sure?” Young’s brows drew together. “‘Cause it seems to me like you don’t. Seems to me like you think everyone should be watching The Luke Show.”
Luke’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “Excuse me? No. That’s not what I—”
“And I’m sorry,” Young interrupted, his tone tightening, “but I have my own shit going on. Sometimes people can be selfish and forget that other people also have problems.”
“I’m apologising, aren’t I?” Luke snapped, heat rising in his chest. His breath came out quicker, shakier. The air between them felt suddenly heavier, the tension pressing in from all sides.
Young exhaled through his nose, jaw flexing. “Yeah. You are.” But the way he said it didn’t sound like forgiveness. It sounded like exhaustion. Like it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t fix anything.
“Forget it,” Luke muttered, stepping back. The night air bit at his skin, cold enough to sting, but he barely noticed. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Young frowned. “What are you—”
“No, seriously. I was trying to be mature for once, but clearly that’s a waste of time.”
“Don’t do that,” Young said, his voice suddenly sharper.
Luke barked out a bitter laugh. “Do what? Breathe wrong?”
“Walk away again.”
But Luke was already turning on his heel, his sneakers grinding against the gravel as he stalked off into the dark parking lot. He could feel his pulse pounding in his throat, the mix of humiliation and anger making him want to scream. Every time he thought he’d made progress, every time he tried to be better, someone had to shove it back in his face.
He heard footsteps behind him, fast ones.
“Luke, wait!”
He didn’t stop. “Go home, Young.”
“Luke.”
“Go home!”
A hand caught his arm, firm but not rough, spinning him around. Young stood there, a few feet away now, his breath coming out in sharp bursts of mist. His expression wasn’t angry anymore—it was something else. Confused. Frustrated. Maybe even guilty.
“Just stop for a second,” Young said.
“What do you want from me?” Luke demanded, his voice cracking slightly. “Do you want me to cry or something? Admit I’m a horrible person and you were right all along?”
“No. That’s not what I want.”
“I already said I was sorry!” Luke’s words came out too fast, too loud, echoing across the empty lot. “I said it like three times, but it’s never enough, is it? You always need to have the last word.”
Young stared at him, his breath shallow. “You think that’s what this is about? Me wanting the last word?”
“Isn’t it?”
“No!” Young raked a hand through his hair, looking exasperated. “I just—god, Luke, you make it impossible to talk to you sometimes.”
Luke flinched.
Young stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I wasn’t trying to start another fight. I just… I don’t know. You come up to me out of nowhere, tell me you’re sorry, then say you’re only doing this because of Gabe. Like, what am I supposed to do with that?”
Luke frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re not doing this for Gabe. You’re doing it because you care what I think. Admit it.”
Luke’s stomach flipped. “That’s not true.”
“Then why’d you even come find me tonight?”
“Because Gabe’s my brother!”
“And?”
“And you’re his best friend!”
Young tilted his head slightly. “You could’ve just texted me. Or ignored me like you usually do.”
Luke opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. The only noise was the hum of a nearby streetlight and the faint thud of music from the gym behind them.
Young’s tone softened, almost hesitant now in case it started another fight. “Look, I know I’ve been an asshole too. I said things I shouldn’t have. But I’m trying, okay? I just don’t know how to talk to you without it turning into—”
“A disaster?” Luke muttered.
“Yeah. That.”
Luke stared at him, jaw tight. He didn’t know if he wanted to scream again or laugh. “You don’t have to try,” he said finally. “You can stop pretending you care.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“Sure.”
“I’m serious, Luke.”
“Then why do you keep making everything harder?”
Young’s mouth opened like he was about to say something, then closed again. He looked away, kicking at the gravel. “Because maybe I don’t know how not to,” he said finally.
Luke blinked at him, startled by how honest that sounded. For a few long seconds, they just stood there, the cold night settling around them, the silence stretching and bending between breaths. Then Luke shook his head, taking a step back. “I should go home.”
“Let me at least give you a ride home.”
“I can walk.”
“Gabe would kill me if he found out I let his kid brother walk home alone.”
“Good job I’m not a kid then,” Luke snapped.
“Luke, just get in the car. I’ll take you home. It’s freezing out.”
“I don’t need a ride home, okay? I don’t need anything from you.” His voice came out small this time, tired. “Just… leave me alone and go back to not caring.” He turned away before Young could stop him again, walking faster, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He didn’t look back this time.
Young stood there, watching until Luke’s figure disappeared into the shadows beyond the lot, the sound of his footsteps fading into nothing.
*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ
By the time January had turned to February and February had bled into March, Luke had perfected the art of disappearing. Whenever Gabe brought the lacrosse guys over, he’d vanish upstairs before they could even make it through the front door. Sometimes he’d grab his earbuds and pretend to sleep. Other times, he’d text Eli and escape to his place instead, spending hours sprawled on Eli’s bedroom floor watching bad movies and eating chips straight out of the bag. It was easier that way. Avoiding Young, avoiding the noise, avoiding the feeling of being an outsider in his own house.
Eli had been weird lately though, in that secretive and distracted way that made Luke suspicious. He always smiled at his phone, and when Luke asked who he was texting, Eli’s cheeks went pink.
“No one,” he’d said the first time, way too fast. Eventually, after some prying, Eli confessed. “Okay, fine. I have a boyfriend.”
Luke had nearly choked on his soda. “You what?”
“Yeah,” Eli said with a shy grin. “He’s a junior.”
“Who?”
Eli’s grin only widened. “I’m not telling you.”
“What, why??”
“Because I don’t wanna jinx it!”
“Is he out?” Luke asked.
“Not really…”
Luke groaned, throwing a pillow at him. “You’re the worst.”
“I know but he’s really nice.”
“They always are at first.”
It became a running joke between them. Luke trying to guess who Eli’s mystery boyfriend was, and Eli dodging the question every single time. Still, Luke was happy for him. Mostly. It was nice to see Eli smile like that, even if it made the quiet parts of Luke’s chest ache a little.
The Gay-Straight Alliance was doing better too. After months of endless paperwork and meetings, Mr. Hayes had finally approved it as an official club. Luke and Eli had put up posters, sent out invites, and somehow managed to get a handful of regular members. It wasn’t much, just a couple of cute freshmen, one nervous senior girl, and a straight junior named Nate who talked too much and claimed he would be the best ally this school had ever known. But it was something. For the first time, Luke felt like what they were doing actually mattered to people and maybe even helped.
Still, April crept in like a storm cloud. Now all anyone could talk about was prom.
The juniors and seniors were obsessed. Whispering in hallways, comparing outfits, and making dramatic promposals with balloons and glitter. Every lunch period, it was the same endless conversation about dresses, suits, and who was taking who.
Luke hated it.
He didn’t care about prom. Not the lights, not the music, not the fake promises of “best night of your life.” It wasn’t like he’d even be allowed to go. It was strictly Juniors and Seniors only, unless one of them had a date who was younger. But that would be weird. So no, Luke wasn’t at all happy to hear everyone talk about prom constantly.
But somehow, Eli had roped him into helping out anyway.
“It’ll look good on college applications,” Eli had said with a grin.
Luke had groaned. “That’s what you said about volunteering at the blood drive, and I nearly fainted.”
“Yeah, well, this one doesn’t involve needles.”
And so, every other Friday straight after school, Luke found himself in the stuffy student council room, surrounded by glitter, crepe paper, and a bunch of overly enthusiastic kids who actually cared about centerpieces. He tried to keep his head down, folding tablecloths and sketching out poster ideas for decorations. He didn’t talk much, but it was better than sitting alone at home, better than pretending not to hear the laughter coming from Gabe’s room whenever the team came over. At least here, he could pretend he was part of something, even if it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.
Someone had music playing low from their phone. It was something poppy and upbeat that didn’t fit the stale smell of craft glue and the chaos of half-finished decorations. Luke sat slouched in his chair, doodling lazy lines on the corner of a poster board while everyone else debated themes and lighting.
Eli sat across from him, his head bent over a list of supplies, laughing quietly at something Nate said. Nate (the straight junior who was obviously bi and still in the closet who had a mop of curly brown hair and a grin that could probably get him out of any kind of trouble) was sitting close. Way too close. Their shoulders brushed every few seconds, and Luke couldn’t help noticing the way Eli’s face turned red whenever it happened.
Something about it clicked in Luke’s brain. The easy smiles. The stolen glances. The way Eli had started showing up to GSA meetings early and always sat next to Nate.
No way.
He watched them whisper and giggle for another five minutes before Eli looked up and caught his glare. The colour drained from his face instantly.
Luke mouthed, We’re talking. Now.
Eli’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t protest when Luke grabbed his arm and dragged him out into the hallway. As soon as they were alone, Luke crossed his arms. “It’s Nate, isn’t it?”
Eli blinked innocently. “What’s Nate?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. He’s the secret boyfriend, right?”
Eli bit his lip, trying (and failing) to hide a grin. “Maybe.”
Luke gasped dramatically. “I knew it!”
Eli laughed, covering his face. “Okay, fine, yes! It’s Nate. But you can’t tell anyone.”
Luke leaned closer, whispering like they were in some spy movie. “Oh my god, this is huge. Since when?”
“Since… February,” Eli admitted, grinning sheepishly. “It just sort of happened.”
“Eli! That’s, like, three months! You’ve been keeping this from me for three months?”
Eli shrugged, cheeks pink. “I wanted to make sure it was real before saying anything.”
Luke groaned, half exasperated and half delighted. “You’re disgusting.”
“I know,” Eli said, grinning. “But he’s actually really great. Like, sweet and funny and—”
“Okay, stop. I’m gonna throw up.”
Eli laughed, shoving him lightly. “You asked!”
“Have you guys, ya know??” Luke threw him a pointed look.
“No!” Eli said, scandalised. “It’s way too early for that. And anyway, I’m saving myself for marriage.”
Luke snorted. “Like hell you are.”
“I’m serious!” Eli rushed out. “We’re taking things slow. Like, super super slow. I mean, I’m only a sophomore and I know all these other hoes just put out all the time, but I don’t want that. I told Nate that if he wants to date me, we won’t be getting hanky panky any time soon. I’m too scared for all that.”
“You’re scared about sex?” Luke frowned.
“Yes!” Eli snapped. “Aren’t you? I mean, its different for the two of us.”
“What do you mean? Different for us how?”
“I mean, we’re both clearly… You know…?”
“No, I don’t know,” Luke frowned.
“Bottoms!” Eli whisper-yelled.
Luke snorted loudly. “Eli, what the fuck? You’re scared to have sex with your secret boyfriend because you’ll have to bottom?”
“Don’t laugh at me! It’s a legitimate fear.”
Before Luke could tease him further, someone’s voice called from the council room: “Hey! It’s almost game time! We’re heading to the bleachers!”
Eli’s head shot up. “Oh, right. The lacrosse game!”
Luke groaned inwardly. “Ugh. Another one?”
“Come on,” Eli said, grabbing his wrist. “You promised you’d be social tonight.”
“I promise nothing. And hey! This conversation isn’t over,” Luke said loudly.
“Yeah, yeah.”
The bleachers were already crowded when they arrived, a restless sea of students bundled up in school colours. Black, red and white. The air was sharp and cold, biting at Luke’s cheeks as he pulled his hoodie tighter. Down on the field, the team was already warming up, Gabe’s captain armband visible even from a distance.
Luke scanned the crowd, spotting his parents near the front row. Eli and Nate had somehow managed to snag a spot a few steps down from him, and Luke tried not to roll his eyes when he saw them holding hands stealthily.
Now that he thought about it, it was super obvious.
He forced his attention to the game instead. The whistle blew, and the field came alive with cleats pounding, sticks clashing, and the echo of the crowd roaring every time someone scored. Luke didn’t care much for lacrosse, but he couldn’t deny that Gabe was good. Too good. He was fast, confident, commanding. Everyone always said Gabe was born for this, and maybe he was.
The first half flew by in a blur of noise and cold air. Then came the second. The whistle shrieked again, sharper this time, followed by a loud thud. The crowd gasped collectively.
Luke’s heart stopped.
Gabe was on the ground, clutching his leg. His stick lay discarded beside him, and the grimace on his face made Luke’s stomach twist violently.
“Oh my god,” Eli breathed beside him.
Everything blurred for a second with the crowd rising to their feet, coaches running, players freezing mid-motion. Luke sat there, frozen and unable to breathe as his father bolted down the bleachers toward the field.
The announcer’s voice cracked through the speakers, shaky and uncertain. “Uh, looks like there’s been an injury on the field, uh, captain Gabe Davies appears to be—”
Luke didn’t hear the rest. His legs moved before his brain caught up, his breath sharp in his throat as he pushed past knees and backpacks and startled students. He didn’t stop until he reached the gate at the edge of the field. Because it didn’t matter that Gabe annoyed him half the time. It didn’t matter that Luke had spent months avoiding the world Gabe lived in. It didn’t matter that Luke was constantly in Gabe’s shadow. All he could see now was his brother, lying on the ground, his leg bent at a wrong, impossible angle, and the look of pain on his face was enough to shatter Luke completely.
Luke stumbled onto the field, his heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to break free. His parents were already there—his mom kneeling beside Gabe, her hands trembling as she brushed hair off his sweaty forehead. His dad crouched near his leg, trying not to touch it but hovering close like proximity alone might fix things.
Gabe’s face was white, tight with pain. “It’s fine,” he hissed through gritted teeth, but his voice cracked halfway through. “It’s probably just… just a sprain.”
Luke could see the lie in his eyes. The way his leg bent wasn’t normal. God, it wasn’t anything close to normal.
“Oh, honey,” his mom whispered, voice breaking. “It’s okay, baby. The ambulance is coming. Just breathe, okay?”
The crowd around them blurred into noise. Luke hated it. Hated how everyone was staring, how some were still whispering. This wasn’t a show. It was Gabe. He kneeled there, hands hanging uselessly at his sides. He didn’t know what to do, where to look, how to breathe. His chest hurt in a way that made him feel like he might burst open.
When the paramedics arrived, everything moved fast. Too fast for his brain to catch up. They secured Gabe’s leg, lifted him onto a stretcher, and loaded him into the ambulance. His mom and dad followed, his mom throwing one last glance over her shoulder.
“Mom—” Luke started to say.
“Stay here, Luke! We’ll call you!”
“But…”
The back doors slammed shut, and the sirens wailed to life, fading into the distance.
For a long moment, Luke just stood there in the glow of the floodlights, surrounded by silence. His breath came out in sharp bursts, white in the cold air. He blinked, realising his eyes were stinging. He wasn’t crying, not really, but they were burning anyway, like tears were sitting just behind them, waiting.
“Luke.”
The voice startled him.
Young was standing a few feet away, his helmet still in hand, his face flushed and hair sticking to his forehead. He looked wrecked, all sweaty and out of breath. Yet, he looked strangely calm all at once. “You okay?” Young asked softly, stepping closer.
Luke opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. His brother had just been wheeled off the field, and all he could do was stand there like an idiot.
“I’ll take you to the hospital,” Young said suddenly.
“What?” Luke blinked, confused.
“You shouldn’t be alone,” Young continued. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”
Luke wanted to argue, to say he could call someone else, that he didn’t need help, that he didn’t need him. But when he looked up and saw Young’s face, serious and weirdly gentle, something in him just gave up. He nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
Young gave one small nod in return and motioned toward the parking lot. “Let’s go.”
And Luke followed without another word, the sound of the sirens still echoing somewhere deep in his head.
Young’s car smelled faintly like peppermint gum and rain. This was his first ever time sitting in the older boys car. The silence was thick as they pulled out of the school parking lot, the hum of the engine filling the space between them. Luke sat stiffly in the passenger seat, his hands balled in his lap, his mind looping over the image of Gabe’s leg bent at that horrible angle. He hadn’t realised he was shaking until Young spoke.
“Hey,” he said quietly, eyes flicking between Luke and the road. “You’re okay. He’s gonna be okay too. Don’t worry.”
Luke stared out the window, voice small. “You don’t know that.”
“No,” Young admitted, “but Gabe’s tough. Tougher than most people I know. If anyone can handle this, it’s him.”
Luke pressed his lips together, trying not to let the crack in his throat show. “He looked…God, he looked so scared. He looked like he was in so much pain. I’ve never seen him like that before.”
Young’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. It was bad. But like I said, he will be okay.”
The streetlights flickered past in rhythmic flashes, painting the inside of the car in alternating light and shadow. Luke couldn’t stop bouncing his leg, nerves thrumming under his skin like electricity.
After a moment, Young reached over and turned down the music that had been humming low through the speakers. “You can cry if you need to, you know. No one’s gonna judge you.”
Luke shot him a glare. “I’m not gonna cry.”
Young smirked faintly. “Yeah, okay.”
“Shut up.”
“Didn’t say anything.”
The faintest smile tugged at Luke’s lips before vanishing again. His chest ached with a mix of fear and exhaustion. “Thanks,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
Young glanced at him, brow raised. “For what?”
“For driving me,” Luke said, staring at the passing blur of headlights. “For not being an ass about it when you probably could have been.”
Young chuckled softly. “Guess I’m maturing.”
Luke snorted under his breath. “About time.”
The rest of the drive passed in silence. The kind of quiet that didn’t feel like pressure for once.
When they reached the hospital, the sharp smell of antiseptic hit Luke immediately. The fluorescent lights made everything look too bright, too sterile. His parents were easy to spot in the waiting area. His mom was wringing her hands and his dad was pacing near the reception desk. They both looked awful. The second they saw Luke, his mom rushed forward and wrapped him in a tight hug.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured into his shoulder. “He’s in with the doctors now. They think it’s a fracture or a broken bone, but they’re still doing scans.”
Luke felt her voice more than he heard it. Everything sounded muffled, like his brain had turned down the volume on the world. He nodded numbly, eyes darting toward the closed doors at the end of the hallway. “How bad is it?” he asked.
“They won’t know for sure until the results come back,” his dad said, rubbing a hand over his face. “But they said it’s… it’s serious.”
Luke’s stomach twisted. He sat down heavily in one of the plastic chairs, elbows on his knees, and tried not to picture his brother in pain.
Young hovered nearby, awkward but steadfast, his usual cocky energy stripped away. “I’ll grab some water,” he said softly, disappearing toward the vending machine.
When he came back, he handed Luke a bottle without a word and sat beside him. For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the ticking of a clock and the occasional footsteps of nurses hurrying down the corridor.
Then Luke exhaled shakily. “You don’t have to stay.”
“He’s my best friend,” Young said simply. “I want to.”
Luke looked at him. “You’re really bad at minding your own business, you know that?”
Young smirked faintly, eyes tired but soft. “Yeah. Guess I am.”
Luke looked away before Young could see the small, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Luke’s dad was the first to break the silence that had settled over the waiting room after that. “So,” he said, turning to Young, who was still sitting stiffly beside Luke. “You’re the co-captain this year, right? That must mean you have a lot of responsibilities too.”
Young straightened a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. I mean, I try to be as helpful as I can when I need to be. Gabe’s the real motivator, though.”
His dad chuckled. “That’s what he always says about you.”
“He said that?” Young asked in a surprised tone.
“Yeah,” his dad nodded, as if it was obvious. Which to Luke, it kind of was. Everyone knew just how much Gabe adored Young. “Said you’re the one who keeps the team from falling apart every time the ref makes a bad call.”
Young gave a small laugh. “Guess he’s not entirely wrong.”
It was such a normal conversation, almost painfully normal, that Luke felt the tension in his chest loosen a little. For a few minutes, they just talked. His dad asked about upcoming games, Young answered politely, and Luke’s mom even chimed in once or twice about the team’s record this season. It was like they were all collectively pretending everything was fine, just for a bit.
Then a nurse appeared, clipboard in hand, and all that normalcy shattered.
“Mr. and Mrs. Davies?” she asked. “You can come in now. He’s stable, and the doctor wanted to give you an update.”
Luke was on his feet before she’d even finished speaking. “What happened? Is he okay?”
The nurse nodded. “He’s okay. It’s a clean break. Tibia. They’ve set it in a cast, but it’s going to take time to heal. He won’t be able to play for a while.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. Luke’s mom gasped softly, pressing a hand to her mouth. His dad exhaled slowly, a quiet “thank God” escaping him. But Luke could only think of Gabe and of how much lacrosse meant to him. How it wasn’t just a sport, it was everything.
“Can we see him?” Luke asked, his voice small.
The nurse nodded. “Just family, for now.”
Young hesitated, starting to stand. “I’ll wait out here.”
But Luke turned to him, shaking his head. “No. You should come. You’re basically family too.”
Young looked taken aback but didn’t argue.
The hospital room was dim, the only light coming from the monitor beside Gabe’s bed. He looked pale and drained. His leg was elevated and wrapped thickly in a white cast. When his eyes flicked up and saw them, he tried to smile, but it faltered before it reached his face. “Hey,” he murmured, voice rough.
Luke’s mom went straight to him, brushing a hand through his hair. “Sweetheart, you scared us half to death.”
“Sorry,” Gabe muttered, his gaze drifting away.
Luke hovered near the foot of the bed, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, unsure what to say.
“They said it’s broken,” his dad said gently. “But it’ll heal. You just need to rest.”
Gabe nodded once, jaw tightening. “Yeah. Rest.” It was quiet for a few moments. Too quiet. The kind that hummed with things no one wanted to say. Then Gabe exhaled shakily, looking toward the ceiling. “Coach is gonna lose it. I—I’ve got scouts coming next month. This season was everything. If I can’t play—” His voice broke.
Luke’s chest ached. “Hey,” he said softly, moving closer. “You’ll get back out there, okay? You just need to heal. That’s it.”
Gabe shook his head. “You don’t get it. This was supposed to be my year. If I’m benched now, I’ll lose my chance at the scholarship. No games, no stats, no highlight reels. I’m done.”
“Don’t say that,” Young chimed in quickly. “You don’t know that yet.”
“I do,” Gabe muttered bitterly, looking at his best friend with fury in his eyes. “You can’t sit out half a season and still get picked up. You know that better than anyone.”
No one spoke. Young looked at a loss, his usual confidence replaced with quiet worry.
Finally, Luke stepped closer, voice low but steady. “You’re not done, Gabe. You’ve worked too hard to be. You’ll come back from this.”
Gabe gave him a hollow look. “Yeah? You ever tried getting scouted with a broken leg?”
Luke’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t look away. “No. But I’ve seen you drag your team through games they had no business winning.”
“He’s right,” Young said. All eyes darted to him and he sighed. “I’ve seen you play through injuries before. You’re the most stubborn person I know so don’t start acting like a quitter now.”
For a second, it looked like Gabe might snap at him, but then his face crumpled and he just looked tired. Defeated.
Luke’s mom squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to think about any of that right now, honey. Just focus on getting better.”
He nodded, eyes glassy, and didn’t say anything else.
Luke stood there, watching his brother sink into silence, and wished more than anything that he could fix it or that he could take the pain away. But all he could do was stay.
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