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December 2016
Snow dusted the streets outside, thick and soft like powdered sugar. The world had gone quiet beneath the weight of winter. It was the kind of cold that made every sound feel distant and softened, like the universe had turned down its volume just a little.
Inside the Davies’ house, though, there was noise. Warmth. The smell of cinnamon and pine drifted faintly up the stairs, tangled with the sound of carols and laughter. Someone (probably their mom) was clattering in the kitchen, and Luke could hear his dad’s deep laugh rumbling beneath it all. He should’ve felt comforted. Instead, he rolled onto his side and pulled the duvet higher, burying his face into the pillow.
It was almost Christmas, and everyone downstairs was happy about it. Everyone except him.
He didn’t hate Christmas. Not exactly. He just hated the way it made him feel this year; like he was supposed to be joyful, grateful and light. He didn’t feel any of those things. Lately, all he’d felt was tired. A bone-deep, heavy kind of tired that no amount of sleep could fix. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the muffled noise of the holiday cheer below, but it was no use. His mind kept circling back to things he didn’t want to think about—how quiet his phone had been lately, how Eli and Nate were too busy with each other to hang out much, and how he hadn’t made any new friends at all.
The floor creaked outside his door. Luke frowned, rolling over again. He heard soft footsteps, hesitant and almost guilty, and then a gentle knock.
“Luke?”
It was Gabe.
Luke groaned quietly, pulling the blanket higher up to his chin. “Come in,” he mumbled.
The door opened, and his older brother poked his head in. He looked a little little different now even though it had only been a few months. College had roughened him up a bit and his hair was slightly longer, his shoulders broader. But right now, he looked unsure. Careful.
“Hey,” Gabe said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He lingered by the edge of the bed like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to sit.
Luke raised an eyebrow from beneath the blanket. “You can sit. I don’t bite.”
“Right.” Gabe gave a nervous little chuckle and sat on the edge of the bed. The silence that followed stretched uncomfortably long, broken only by the muffled sound of their mom singing along to Last Christmas downstairs.
Luke sighed. “So, they told you, huh?”
Gabe hesitated. “Told me what?”
Luke gave him a look. “Don’t play dumb.”
Gabe rubbed the back of his neck, clearly caught. “They just… said you’ve been kind of quiet lately. That you don’t really come downstairs. That you’re not, uh, doing great.”
Luke let out a small, tired laugh. “Wow. Nothing gets past them, huh?”
“They’re just worried,” Gabe said gently. “I am too.”
Luke turned away, staring at the faint frost on the window. “I’m fine.”
“Luke—”
“I said I’m fine.” His voice cracked a little on the last word, and he hated how pathetic it sounded.
For a while, Gabe didn’t say anything. He just sat there, hands clasped loosely between his knees, the same way he used to when they were kids and Luke—Lola back then—was sulking about something. Except this time, there was no easy fix. No candy bribe or apology could make it go away.
“You don’t have to be,” Gabe said finally, his voice quiet but steady. “You don’t have to be fine all the time. You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to feel like shit sometimes.”
Luke swallowed hard and pulled the blanket tighter around him, pretending he didn’t hear.
Gabe shifted on the edge of the bed, glancing around Luke’s room, probably looking at all the scattered sketchbooks and the hoodie draped over the chair. He looked like he was thinking carefully about what to say next.
“You look different,” he said finally.
Luke frowned. “Different how?”
“I dunno. Just… good different.” Gabe gave a small, awkward smile. “The testosterone’s really doing its thing, huh?”
Luke blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
Gabe shrugged, like it was obvious. “Your voice. It’s lower. And your face is changing too. You’ve got, like… I dunno, more definition or something.”
Luke’s cheeks burned, though he tried to play it cool. “Definition? What, like a dictionary?”
Gabe snorted. “You know what I mean, dumbass.”
For the first time in a while, Luke’s lips twitched into a small smile. Compliments about his appearance always made him uncomfortable, but coming from Gabe, it hit different. His brother wasn’t the kind of guy to just say stuff like that. If he said it, he meant it.
“You think so?” Luke asked, pretending to sound casual but failing miserably.
“I know so,” Gabe said, grinning. “Honestly, if you keep going at this rate, you’re gonna end up looking better than me.”
Luke let out a short laugh. “That’s not a very high bar.”
“Hey!” Gabe nudged his shoulder gently, the tension between them breaking just a little. “I’m serious, man. You’re doing good. You’ve come a long way since last year. Next you’re going to be growing a full on beard and chest hair.”
Something warm fluttered in Luke’s chest, small and fragile, but real. He didn’t realise how much he’d needed to hear that until now. For so long, everything had felt like a fight: with himself, with school, with the way people looked at him. And here was Gabe, the golden boy of the family, telling him he was doing okay. It made something ache in the best way.
“Thanks,” Luke said quietly.
Gabe nodded. “You’re welcome.” Then, after a pause, “I mean it, Luke. I know it’s been rough, but… I’m proud of you.”
Luke looked down at his blanket, suddenly blinking too fast. “You’re such a sap.”
“Shut up,” Gabe said, chuckling, though there was no bite to it.
They sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of carols still humming faintly from downstairs. For the first time in weeks, Luke felt… okay. Not fixed and certainly not perfect. But okay.
“Oh shit, I forgot,” Gabe said after a while, standing up. “Mom’s making hot chocolate. You should come down before she drinks all the whipped cream again.”
“Give me 5 minutes to look decent,” Luke mumbled.
“Sure,” Gabe said with a nod. Then he walked out of the room.
Luke sighed and rolled out of bed. He did in fact need to freshen up because he had spent all damn day in his bed. He liked it sure, but he also felt like a bit of a slob.
Luke lingered at the top of the stairs for a while, still unsure if he wanted to ruin his fragile calm by going down there. He could hear his parents laughing softly, the clinking of mugs, the sound of Gabe’s voice carrying from the living room. It was warm, familiar. He exhaled, shoved his hands into the pockets of his fresh hoodie, and trudged downstairs.
“There he is!” his mom said instantly, her face lighting up as she spotted him. “I was just about to send your father to drag you out of bed.”
“Like I’d survive that,” his dad joked from the couch, reaching for another cookie. “Come on, champ, sit down. We’re watching Love Actually again. It’s your mom’s annual tradition.”
“It’s a classic,” she said, giving him a pointed look.
Luke rolled his eyes but sank onto the couch in between them anyway. His mom immediately pulled a blanket over his legs, like she couldn’t help mothering him, and then she reached out to squeeze his hand. His dad ruffled his hair. It was embarrassing, but also… kind of nice.
“You guys are weirdly clingy tonight,” Luke muttered, half-smiling.
His mom looked at him with soft eyes. “We just missed you, sweetheart.”
They watched the movie for a bit, and Luke felt the tightness in his chest start to ease. His dad got up for more hot chocolate. His mom started singing along with one of the carols. And Gabe, looking tan and confident from college life, started rambling about how things were going.
“Classes are alright,” he said, leaning back. “Kinda boring, but the lacrosse team’s solid. Everyone’s cool. Young and I are still killing it on the field. Well, when we’re not hungover.”
“Gabe!” his mom scolded.
He grinned. “Kidding, kidding. Mostly. Anyway, we got into this insane match against Yale a few weeks ago. Young totally devoured the pitch. It was crazy. And then the kiss cam afterwards? Totally blew away the whole stadium. Imagine being such a romantic guy that you kiss your whole ass boyfriend on a live kiss cam in front of everyone. Young’s got rizz.”
The room went silent.
Luke’s heart dropped into his stomach.
“What?” his mom asked, blinking.
“What?” Luke muttered.
“What?” Gabe blinked.
“Young… as in your Young?” mom asked.
“Yeah,” Gabe said with a nod, totally casual as if he was reciting the weather. “Young.”
“Kissed somebody on a kiss cam?” mom asked.
“Yeah, his boyfriend. They met on campus. They’re, like, disgustingly happy. Young even skipped a team dinner this one time just to go on a date, which is insane for him.”
His dad laughed a short, disbelieving laugh. “Young? As in, the same Young who was co-captain of the lacrosse team last year??”
“Oh, yeah. He’s totally gay now. College did him good,” Gabe nodded casually.
“Wow,” Dad muttered.
Gay??
Luke had to hide a snide remark about the fact that Youngjae wasn’t gay, he was pansexual. He wanted to ask Gabe a million questions. Who was the boyfriend? How had they met? What was his name? Why now?? But that would raise more questionable eyebrows. Gabe would becoming suspicious as to why Luke suddenly cared so much about Young, so he just sat there, as still as a statue despite his racing heart.
Dad snapped out of whatever shock he felt and nodded his head firmly. “Well. Good for him! Tell him we said congrats.”
“Yeah,” his mom chimed in warmly. “That’s wonderful.”
Luke’s throat felt like it was closing. Was it wonderful? He didn’t know. He recalled what Youngjae said about his sexuality and the fact that he had never really told anyone, but that he wasn’t ashamed of it. Maybe he really was proud of it. Enough to tell Gabe and the rest of Harvard anyway. He forced himself to nod along, pretending the words weren’t hitting him like a slow, dull punch to the gut. “Yeah,” he managed, voice tight. “Good for him.”
But inside, all he could hear was that one word repeating like a heartbeat. Boyfriend.
He stared at the twinkling Christmas lights, his vision going blurry for a second, and told himself to get it together. It wasn’t like they were anything. Young had told him not to dwell on it. He’d said it was impossible. That Luke should move on. So why did it feel like he’d just lost something he’d never even had? Gabe was still talking, oblivious. His parents were smiling. The fire crackled. Luke smiled, too. But it felt like the most painful thing he’d done all winter.
That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Luke lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling. The house was quiet, just the faint creak of pipes and the whisper of wind pressing against the windows.
Luke turned over, grabbing his phone from the nightstand even though he’d been trying not to. His thumb hovered over Instagram for a moment before he caved and opened it.
He searched Wi Youngjae, but there were a hundred results. He had never bothered to follow Gabe’s best friend on instagram before. I mean, why would he? It would be weird…right? He scrolled through Gabe’s follow list until he finally saw @youngjae.7. He saw his familiar face as a the profile picture, the same smirk, the same dark eyes. He clicked before he could talk himself out of it.
The account was mostly quiet. A few photos from campus—lacrosse team shots, a blurry picture of a library, one with Gabe that had over a hundred likes. Then, buried between two group photos, there was a new one: Young sitting on a bench with another guy. They weren’t holding hands, but Luke could tell. The way they were sitting close. The way Young’s smile looked softer than usual. He didn’t even mean to double-tap it, but the heart flashed red. He panicked and unliked it immediately, his pulse racing as if that somehow erased the fact that he’d looked.
Fuck.
He tossed his phone onto the other side of the bed and pressed his palms into his eyes. Don’t be pathetic, he told himself. He’s just a guy. He made his choice.
But the loneliness crept in anyway. It was the kind that felt heavy and endless. Everyone around him seemed to have somebody. Gabe had Maddy, even though he pretending he wanted to be a bachelor now. Eli had Nate. The pair were unbreakable. Even Young had someone new now.
And Luke… Luke had no one.
He used to think being independent was enough, that being comfortable in his skin would fill the emptiness. But sometimes, like now, it just made everything feel sharper.
He got up, pulled his hoodie off, and trudged to the bathroom. The tiles were freezing under his feet. He turned on the shower, waiting for the water to warm, then caught sight of himself in the mirror. For a second, he didn’t recognise the person staring back, His jaw was a little sharper now and his shoulders were broader. The changes were happening, slowly but surely. His binder hugged his chest tight. He touched it gently, tracing the outline with his fingers.
He thought about how his mom had saved up to buy it for him without him even asking. How his dad had helped him figure out the right size, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. They loved him. They really did. He knew that.
And yet, as the mirror fogged up, Luke whispered to his reflection, “Just a little longer, okay?”
He couldn’t wait to have the body he’d always dreamed of. One that didn’t make him flinch every time he looked down, one that made him feel whole.
He stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower. The water was hot, but he still shivered. Because even with the constant support from his family, even with the slow progress from the T… the loneliness still lingered, quiet and stubborn, like steam that refused to clear.
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The next morning, the house was already bright with the smell of cinnamon and coffee when Luke woke up. He blinked blearily at the time on his phone. It was just past eight. Luke heard Gabe’s unmistakable footsteps in the hallway. A second later, his brother burst through the door with the same grin he’d had since they were ten.
“Come on, slowpoke,” Gabe said, shaking Luke’s foot through the blanket. “It’s Christmas!”
A small smile tugged at Luke’s mouth. “You’re such a child,” he muttered, but he was already swinging his legs out of bed.
“Says the guy who cried over not getting a Nintendo Switch three years ago,” Gabe shot back, ducking out before Luke could throw a pillow at him.
They raced down the stairs, nearly tripping over each other, and skidded to a stop in front of the twinkling tree. Their parents were already sitting on the couch with mugs of coffee, watching with tired but happy smiles.
“Morning, boys,” their mom said. “Try not to destroy the place this year.”
“No promises,” Gabe said, grabbing the first box he could find with his name on it.
Wrapping paper quickly covered the floor like confetti. Gabe’s pile grew fast. He got a new hoodie, some wireless earbuds, a stack of new lacrosse gear, and a framed photo of him and Maddy that their mom had printed out.
Luke’s gifts were smaller but somehow heavier with meaning. The first thing he opened was a new sketchbook from his dad (he’d started doodling again lately, just to keep his hands busy). There was also a silver bracelet from his mom, engraved with his names: Luke D. “Thought you might like something with your real name on it,” she’d said softly.
He’d had to look away for a second, pretending to scratch his nose so they wouldn’t see the emotion creeping up his throat.
Then came a box wrapped in tissue paper. Inside was a dark green scarf and a note in his mom’s handwriting: For all those cold mornings on the way to school. Love you, kiddo.
Luke pressed the scarf to his face, pretending he was smelling it for the fabric instead of trying not to cry. “Thanks, Mom,” he mumbled, voice muffled.
After the gift chaos came breakfast. They had pancakes stacked high with whipped cream, scrambled eggs, and enough crispy bacon to feed an army. Gabe tried to see how many pancakes he could eat before their dad threatened to cut him off. Luke laughed until his stomach hurt.
When the plates were cleared and Home Alone was playing in the background, Luke leaned back on the couch under a fleece blanket, his legs stretched out, half-dozing through the sound of Kevin McCallister’s antics. His phone buzzed in his hand, pulling him back to reality.
Eli: Merry Christmas, loser!!
Luke grinned and immediately hit call.
“Merry Christmas to you too,” Luke said when Eli answered, his voice half-drowned by the sound of chatter and Christmas music on Eli’s end.
“God, my house is chaos,” Eli said. “My dad’s already drunk on Prosecco and Nate’s family sent over, like, five boxes of cookies. I’m gonna explode by noon.”
Luke laughed softly. “Sounds fun.”
“It is. You doing okay?”
“Yeah,” Luke said automatically, glancing over at his family still laughing in the kitchen. “Yeah, actually. It’s nice to have Gabe back for a while.”
“Good. You deserve a nice one this year.”
“You too, Eli.”
They talked for a few more minutes about presents and food and the snow outside before Eli hung up to go help his dad with the food.
When Luke set his phone down, he looked around the room at the tree lights twinkling, and at his dad making another cup of coffee, and at Gabe tossing popcorn at the TV. He tried to let himself sink into the warmth of it all.
But then his phone chimed again.
Youngjae: Merry Christmas Luke
For a second, he thought he was imagining it. His brain must’ve been playing tricks on him because Young never texted him. Like, ever. They hadn’t spoken at all since that awkward call back in September. But there it was, plain as day, a text from Young himself.
Luke just stared at it. The longer he looked, the heavier his stomach felt. He didn’t even know what to feel. Shock, maybe? Or confusion. Or that low, bitter ache that came whenever he remembered the reason he’d stopped hoping for messages like this in the first place.
Because Young was two years older him. Because Young was his older brothers best friend. Because Young had a boyfriend now.
He set his phone face down on his lap and tried to breathe, tried to focus on the movie playing on the screen, but the joy that had filled him all morning suddenly felt like it had drained out through a crack in the floor. His chest was tight.
“Hey, Luke,” Gabe’s voice broke through the noise a while later. Luke blinked out of his daydreaming and looked up. Gabe was standing near the doorway, wearing his jacket, car keys twirling in his hand. “I’m gonna swing by Young’s house. Got him a little gift thing. You wanna come?”
Luke’s first instinct was absolutely the hell not. He forced a dry laugh. “No thanks. I’ll pass.”
“You should go. Actually, we should all go. Do you think they’d mind if we tagged along, Gabe? It would be nice,” his mom chimed in from the kitchen, all smiles. “It’ll be fun to see the Wi’s again. We haven’t seen them since the we dropped you boys off to college.”
Luke shot a desperate look toward Gabe, silently pleading for mercy. But his brother just grinned, oblivious. “Of course you can all come. Come on, Luke. It will take, like, ten minutes. You can even wear your new scarf.”
“I don’t—”
“Get your coat, sweetheart,” their mom interrupted cheerfully. “It’s freezing out there.”
Luke groaned quietly. There was no way he’d be able to make an excuse if his entire family were going.
A few minutes later, he found himself in the car, wedged between Gabe’s energy and his dad’s Christmas playlist. Outside, snow glittered under the streetlights. Every jingle bell that came from the speakers made his mood sink further.
By the time they pulled up to the Wi family’s house, Luke’s stomach was doing slow, anxious flips. The place looked warm and perfect, with fairy lights draped along the porch, smoke curling from the chimney, and the faint sound of laughter spilling from inside. It looked picture perfect.
“Alright,” Gabe said, clapping his gloved hands together. “Let’s spread some Christmas cheer.”
Luke muttered something under his breath that was definitely not cheerful and followed them up the path. Gabe knocked and shifted Young’s christmas gift from one hand to the other.
Mrs Wi eventually opened the door, face bright with surprise and relief. “Oh! You came! And you brought the whole family. Welcome! Come in, come in. Goodness, it’s so cold!”
Her voice was warm but rushed, and she was speaking half in English, half in Korean. Luke caught snippets of phrases as she called over her shoulder for someone and fussed over the mugs cluttering the kitchen counter. Mr. Wi appeared a moment later, smiling happily, his sweater slightly crooked like he’d been pulled from an argument about table settings. The whole scene felt stupidly chaotic and Luke suddenly felt very small standing in their hallway, snow melting off his shoes which he pulled off after he saw Gabe doing it.
Then Young appeared at the top of the stairs.
His dark hair was longer, falling into his eyes a little, and he was wearing a red knit jumper that made him look too good for someone Luke was trying very hard not to think about. Their eyes met. For one impossible second, neither of them spoke.
“Hey,” Young said finally, voice softer than Luke expected.
Luke swallowed but stayed quiet. Young wasn’t talking to him specifically.
“Hey, man!” Gabe said excitedly. “Got your gift. Hope you don’t mind that I bought my folks over. We won’t be here long.”
“No, no,” Young said. “Of course not.”
“Wow, everyone’s here,” Young’s mom said brightly, looking around, her accent thick with affection. “You must all have coffee, yes?”
The adults began chatting in the kitchen, already caught in their comfortable grown-up world, and Gabe pulled Young aside in the living room to hand him his gift. Luke hung back near the doorway for a second, pretending to study the family photos on the wall while every nerve in his body buzzed.
He shouldn’t have come.
He definitely shouldn’t have come.
Gabe was now handing over a small, badly wrapped gift to Young. “Open it, man,” Gabe urged. “I didn’t get you anything fancy, but yeah, open it.”
Young tore the wrapping paper carefully and grinned when he saw what was inside: a limited-edition lacrosse keychain engraved with Roommates. Teammates. Idiots for life.
He laughed. “You’re such a loser.”
“Sentimental loser,” Gabe corrected, grinning back.
Luke tried not to smile, watching them from where he stood. The two of them had this easy, effortless way of talking. Like finishing each other’s sentences and teasing each other like brothers. It was the same as always. Except it wasn’t. Because Luke knew something now that he wished he didn’t. The two of them talked for a bit, catching up about college stuff and mutual teammates, and Luke zoned out for a while…until Young looked up, his dark eyes catching Luke’s from across the room.
“Hey,” Young said, like he’d just noticed him for the first time. “You’re just gonna stand there or what? Come sit down.”
“Yeah, squirt, get in here,” Gabe added, gesturing toward the couch.
“Right,” Luke mumbled, stepping inside. He took the far end of the couch while Gabe and Young sat close together, chatting over the hum of a movie playing quietly on the TV.
Every now and then, Young would laugh, that low, quiet laugh Luke remembered from months ago. The one that used to make him feel like the room got a little warmer. Now it just made him feel… out of place. He sipped from a can of soda Gabe had tossed him and stared at the TV screen, half-listening as the two of them traded stories about teammates, parties and professors.
Luke tried to follow along, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was intruding on something. That maybe he should’ve stayed home. Or better yet, gone to Eli’s place instead where things were loud and chaotic sure, but familiar. He thought about texting Eli right then, just to have an escape plan, but before he could reach for his phone, the sound of voices drifted down the hallway.
Their parents were back.
Luke straightened a little as his mom entered the room first, followed by his dad, then Mr. and Mrs. Wi. Everyone was smiling, cups of coffee in hand, full of polite warmth.
“Oh, look at you three!” Luke’s mom said cheerfully. “All grown up.”
Gabe grinned. “Yeah,we look better right?”
“You sure do, honey.”
They all chatted for a bit. Luke stayed quiet, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve.
“Does Gabe keep you awake at night, Young?” mom asked with a pointed glare thrown towards her eldest son.
“Oh, no,” Young said politely. “He’s pretty quiet.”
“See?” Gabe said loudly. “I’m quiet.”
“And is Gabe studying?” dad asked.
“Dad,” Gabe rolled his eyes. “It’s only our first semester. This is the time we’re supposed to be up at all times during the night and getting wasted.”
Mr and Mrs Wi shot each other a startled look.
“He’s kidding,” Young said quickly, bashfully smiling at his parents. “It was a joke. We don’t do that.”
“Yeah, no,” Gabe said quickly, forcing a poker face. “We barely go out. We have too much lacrosse practice so we mostly just go to the gym and come home.”
“And study,” Young added. “In the library.”
“Yeah, the library,” Gabe said, nodding robotically.
Luke snickered under his breath.
“Good,” Mrs Wi said sternly. “Just because you boys are living over there, doesn’t mean you start slacking. Lacrosse is important. Make sure you are both focusing.”
“We will, Mrs Wi,” Gabe said politely.
“Yeah, don’t let partying and relationships take over your lives,” dad said.
“Oh, speaking of which!” Luke’s mom said suddenly, a bright smile on her face. “Young! We heard from Gabe that you have a boyfriend now! That’s wonderful, congratulations!”
The room went silent. Mrs. Wi froze mid-sip of her coffee. Mr. Wi’s smile dropped completely. Luke saw it all happen in slow motion.
Uh oh.
“Boyfriend?” Mrs. Wi repeated slowly.
Young blinked, colour draining from his face.
Gabe turned to his parents, eyes wide. “Mom, what?”
Luke’s dad looked confused. “What?”
“Did we—was that not public knowledge? I thought you…” Mom spluttered.
The silence thickened like fog.
Luke’s jaw went slack.
Mr. Wi set his cup down carefully, his jaw tight. “Excuse me?”
Young said nothing, staring at his parents with a look of pure dread on his face. Mom and dad also looked mortified and completely guilty.
“We didn’t… know about that,” Mrs Wi gritted out.
“Oh,” Luke’s mom whispered, mortified. “Oh no. I—I thought it wasn’t a secret.”
Everyone started talking at once. Luke’s mom started apologising profusely, Gabe stammering that he “must’ve said it by accident,” and Young sitting completely still, his hands clasped tightly together, eyes on the floor. Luke wanted to disappear too because this was awkward as hell. He wanted to rewind time and make his parents shut up.
Mrs. Wi stood up abruptly, muttering something in Korean to her husband, her voice low and clipped. Mr. Wi nodded, clearly trying to smooth things over, but the tension in the room was sharp enough to taste. Mrs Wi shot a glare towards Young and left the room without a word.
Gabe looked like he wanted to die. “Young, I’m so sorry. Oh, my god. Oh, my god.”
“It’s fine,” Young cut in, but his voice was barely steady. “It’s—it’s fine. Really.”
Luke glanced at him, catching the flicker of embarrassment (or maybe hurt) behind his eyes. His heart twisted in worry and empathy. The room fell into a strained silence, the movie still playing softly in the background, a painfully cheerful Christmas song humming over the awkward quiet.
Mr Wi stood up after a long silence, his expression unreadable. He turned toward Young, speaking quietly in Korean. Luke didn’t understand the words, but he caught the tone. It was clipped and tense, like glass on the verge of breaking.
Young answered softly in Korean too, his eyes lowered.
His father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before muttering something else and straightening his coat. “I’m going to check on your mother,” he said in English this time, his voice flat and distant. And then he left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
For a long moment, no one said anything. The air in the room felt heavy, like everyone was holding their breath. Luke could hear the quiet hum of the movie still playing in the background, laughter from the TV contrasting sharply against the thick silence that had settled over them.
Then Luke’s mom spoke, her voice trembling slightly. “Young, sweetheart, we are so sorry. We never meant to put you in a difficult position. We thought your parents already knew, and we didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” Young said quickly, shaking his head, though his voice was strained. He ran a hand over his face, fingers pressing into his temples like the words were giving him a headache. “Really, Mrs Davies. It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. Luke could tell. He could see it in the way Young’s shoulders curled inwards, how he avoided looking at anyone, how his knee bounced restlessly.
Luke’s dad added quietly, “It was a mistake on our part. We shouldn’t have assumed anything. I’m really sorry, Young.”
Young nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the carpet. “It’s not your fault. I just… didn’t plan to tell them like that.”
Gabe sat beside him on the couch, guilt written all over his face. “Man, I’m so sorry. I just mentioned something offhand and I didn’t tell them it was a secret. Fuck, I’m so stupid.”
Young gave him a small, tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s okay, Gabe.”
But Luke could see his fingers trembling where they rested against his leg. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and for once, he didn’t look like the confident, self-assured Young everyone knew. He looked scared. Luke’s chest ached. He remembered all the times Young had been kind to him, patient when everyone else fumbled over what to say about Luke being trans. He remembered that dance months ago, the gentle way Young had looked at him, the soft kiss on his cheek. And now here he was, looking small and uncertain, and Luke hated it.
After a long silence, Luke’s mom said softly, “Young, if you don’t feel comfortable staying here tonight, you’re more than welcome to come back to our house. We’d be happy to have you.”
Young looked up, startled. “Oh, I—no, I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You wouldn’t be,” Luke’s dad said firmly. “It’s getting late anyway, and we’d feel better knowing you had somewhere calm to go. Let your parents have some time to talk.”
Gabe nodded quickly. “Yeah, come with us, man. Seriously.”
For a second, Young hesitated, glancing toward the hallway where his father had disappeared. Then he exhaled shakily and nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks.”
They gathered their things quietly. Mrs Wi didn’t come back out before they left, and Young didn’t ask to say goodbye. When they reached the car, the night air was sharp and cold, stinging Luke’s cheeks as he climbed into the backseat. Gabe slid in first, then Young, then Luke, who took the seat by the window. The radio played softly, something mellow and wordless.
No one spoke. Gabe stared at his hands, still pale with guilt. Young leaned his head back against the backrest, the faint light from passing street lamps brushing against his face, making him look older somehow. His eyes looked tired and hollowed. Luke stole a glance at him in the dark. Young’s jaw was tight, but his hands were clenched in his lap, like he was holding himself together by sheer force.
And in that quiet moment, Luke realised how much it hurt to see him like that. How unfair it was that Young couldn’t just be happy without fear hanging over his head.
Luke wanted to say something, to tell him that it would be okay, that his parents would calm down eventually. But he didn’t know if that was true. Young’s parents didn’t seem like his own. They were different. Culturally yes, but also in the way they showed love and warmth. Luke’s own parents held him tight all night on the night he had sobbed to them and told them he felt more like a boy than a girl. They hadn’t shunned him or questioned him. They just accepted it to be true and moved on. Luke would never understand what it was like to be in Youngjae’s shoes. So instead, he just sat there, watching the streetlights flicker across Young’s face, wishing he could take away the fear in his eyes.
When the car pulled into their driveway, nobody moved for a few seconds.
Luke finally whispered, “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
Young turned his head to look at him and nodded. But his voice, when he finally spoke, was barely audible. “Thanks for letting me come with you guys.”
Luke nodded back. “You don’t have to thank us.”
Youngjae smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then the five of them stepped out into the cold, their breath fogging the night air as they made their way toward the house, carrying the weight of everything that had just been broken open.
Everyone was quiet as they stepped inside the house, shaking off their coats and shoes. Gabe put a hand on Young’s shoulder, murmuring something that Luke couldn’t catch, and the two of them headed straight upstairs toward the Gabe’s bedroom. Luke stood in the entryway, watching them disappear at the top of the stairs. For a second, he thought about following, about knocking on the door and telling Young that he was sorry for what happened, that it wasn’t fair. But then he stopped himself. It wasn’t his place. Young didn’t need another person hovering over him tonight. He had Gabe. He had his best friend. Luke wasn’t needed.
He turned back toward the living room where his parents stood looking worn and guilty. His mom was wringing her hands, eyes glassy with worry, while his dad just stared into the middle distance, frowning deeply. Luke walked over to them without saying anything and wrapped his arms around them both. His mom gasped softly in surprise before hugging him back tightly, his dad joining in after a moment. For a few seconds, none of them spoke. It was just warmth and quiet breathing and the faint ticking of the clock in the kitchen.
“Thanks,” Luke mumbled into his mother’s shoulder when they finally pulled apart.
“For what?” she asked softly.
“For being good parents,” he said, his voice a little rough. “Even when stuff gets messy.”
His mom smiled through her exhaustion, brushing his hair back like she used to when he was little. “We’re trying,” she said quietly.
“And you’re succeeding,” Luke replied.
His dad squeezed his shoulder, a small, wordless show of affection. Luke told them goodnight and climbed the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under his feet.
In his room, he stripped off his clothes and got into bed, burrowing beneath his blankets. The house was quiet now, but his mind wouldn’t stop turning. He thought about Young’s face when his mother and father had walked out. That mixture of shame and fear. He thought about how small he’d looked, about the way his voice had wavered when he said he didn’t want to be a bother.
Luke rolled onto his side, staring at the faint light from the streetlamp outside bleeding through his curtains. He told himself to sleep. To stop thinking about Young. But his thoughts kept circling back, looping over the same image of Young’s tired eyes.
At some point, he drifted into a restless half-sleep. Time blurred. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the heating and the wind against the windows.
Then, sometime past midnight, his phone buzzed against his nightstand. Luke groaned softly, reaching for it. The screen lit up, momentarily blinding him. He blinked at the message.
Youngjae: come downstairs.
For a moment, Luke just stared at the text, his brain trying to catch up with what he was reading. His heart started to pound, so loud it almost drowned out the sound of the wind outside. Then he sat up quickly, the blankets sliding down his chest, breath caught somewhere between fear and excitement. He reread the message twice, like maybe he’d imagined it. But no, it was still there, simple and clear.
Youngjae wanted him to come downstairs.
Holy fuck.
Luke swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his throat. Every part of him felt alive and restless, his mind a mess of questions. Why did Young want to see him? What was he going to say?
He hesitated for a moment. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The floorboards were cold under his bare feet. He quickly shoved his legs into a pair of joggers and pulled on a short sleeved t-shirt. As he crept to the door and quietly opened it, the house felt impossibly still. The only sound was the faint hum of the fridge downstairs and the occasional groan of the heating pipes. Luke moved carefully, one hand on the banister, heart thudding faster with every step he took. He had no idea what waited for him at the bottom of the stairs. All he knew was that Young was there actually waiting for him, and that was enough to pull him forward.
Luke padded softly into the living room, the dim orange light from the lamp casting long shadows across the walls. Young was there, sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped loosely together. His head turned when he heard Luke’s footsteps, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Luke realised in that moment that Young looked good. Too good. Impossibly good.
“Hey,” the older boy murmured.
“Hi,” Luke said back, trying to sound casual even though his chest was pounding. He hesitated for a second before walking over and sitting beside him. Not too close though. Just far enough that their shoulders wouldn’t touch. The air between them felt charged somehow, like one wrong move would make it all collapse.
Young leaned back slightly, looking at Luke in that quiet, observant way of his. “How are you?”
“Uh, I’m good,” Luke replied. “You?”
“Im fine. How’s junior year?” Young asked softly. “You surviving?”
Luke gave a small, nervous laugh. “Barely. It’s… fine, I guess.”
Young’s lips twitched into something like a smile. “You look a little different,” he said after a moment. “In a good way, I mean.”
Luke blinked, caught off guard. “Oh. Uh… thanks.”
Young tilted his head, studying him more closely now. “Did you, like, cut your hair again or…?”
Luke hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, that. But also…” He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure why he suddenly felt shy about saying it out loud. “I started testosterone a few months ago.”
Young’s eyebrows lifted slightly, his expression softening. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Luke said quietly, his eyes flickering down to his hands. “It’s… weird. But in a good way. Like, my voice is finally starting to sound more like me, you know? I mean, it cracks a lot. Like, a lot, so sometimes I sound like a dying frog, but it’s getting there.”
Young chuckled under his breath, the sound low and genuine. “That’s awesome, Luke. Seriously. That’s crazy news.”
Luke smiled faintly, encouraged by his tone. “Thanks. My mom says my face is changing too, but I can’t really tell. I’ve been breaking out like crazy, though. Apparently, that’s part of the deal.”
“Yeah, you do look a bit older,” Young said thoughtfully. “Not, like, old-old, just… grown.”
Luke let out a breathy laugh, unsure what to do with that. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is one,” Young said simply. Then his voice softened. “You seem more comfortable, too. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you in a shirt instead of covering up with a hoodie.”
That made Luke’s throat tighten a little. “Oh, uh, yeah,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. He looked down at his shirt and mentally face palmed. He always slept with a binder on, whether that was recommended or not. It made him feel better. Thankfully, his chest was currently flat and he wanted to grin because he looked so fucking good. He schooled his expression before Young could see it though.
They sat in silence for a while after that. Young’s presence felt steady and familiar besides him, even after all these months.
Luke risked a shy glance at him.
Young’s face looked tired but kind, his hair a little messy like he’d been running his hands through it all night. For a fleeting second, Luke wondered what it would be like to lean into him, to close that inch of space between them. But he stayed still.
Instead, he cleared his throat softly. “So… why’d you text me?” he asked, finally voicing the question that had been sitting on his tongue since he came downstairs.
Young turned his head, eyes glinting faintly in the low light. “Because I couldn’t sleep,” he said honestly. “And because I wanted to see you.”
Luke blinked, thrown off guard by Young’s words. “You wanted to see me?” he echoed before he could stop himself, but then immediately regretted it when his voice came out small, almost fragile.
Young smiled faintly, but there was something guarded behind it.
“You have a boyfriend,” Luke blurted out.
The words hit like a slap of cold air.
Young nodded slowly, like he already knew this conversation would sting. “Right. Yeah.”
Luke’s throat felt tight, but he managed to nod, trying to keep his tone flat and breezy. “That’s cool. Good for you.”
Young hesitated. “I hope that doesn’t, you know, make things weird between us.”
Luke scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Weird? Nah. Why would it? It’s not a big deal.” It was a lie, and they both knew it. His chest ached with something ugly and heavy, but he shoved it down as hard as he could, forcing a shrug and an unconvincing grin. “I mean, you don’t owe me an update on your dating life or whatever.”
Young’s gaze lingered on him, searching his face as if trying to read between the lines. Luke pretended not to notice. “So,” Young said after a pause, trying to lighten the mood, “what about you? Are you dating anyone?”
Luke blinked. “Me?”
Young nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile. “Yeah, you. You’ve gotta have someone by now. You’re—” he gestured vaguely at Luke “—you.”
Luke felt his pulse pick up again, heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. Sort of,” he lied quickly. “I’ve, um… been on a few dates.”
Young raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah,” Luke said, a little too fast. He looked away, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. “Nothing serious or anything. Just, you know, seeing what’s out there.”
Young chuckled softly. “That’s good. You deserve that.”
Luke gave a weak smile and mumbled, “Yeah.”
But inside, he felt like he’d swallowed a fistful of snow—cold, heavy and impossible to melt. He didn’t even know why he’d lied. Maybe because admitting he hadn’t even thought about anyone else felt too raw, too obvious and far too pathetic. Maybe because sitting next to Young like this still felt like gravity was pulling him in the wrong direction. And when Young smiled at him again with that small, easy smile that made Luke’s chest ache nowadays, he forced himself to look away before it showed on his face.
Luke shifted slightly on the couch, trying to sound casual even though his heart was beating hard in his chest. “So, uh,” he started carefully, “what’s he like? Your boyfriend, I mean.”
Young’s lips curved into a small smile, one Luke couldn’t quite read. “His name’s Ryan,” he said. “He’s also a first year college student. We met through a mutual friend. He’s nice. Kind of shy, but funny once you get to know him. And he’s patient with me, which is probably the best part.”
Luke nodded, trying to swallow the sudden tightness in his throat. “Sounds great,” he said, and he hated how his voice sounded strained like he was forcing it out.
Young kept talking, describing small things, like how Ryan always left little notes in his backpack, or how they studied together in the library late at night. Luke nodded in the right places, pretended to listen, even laughed when Young made a joke about Ryan’s terrible cooking. But every word felt like a pinch, small and precise, and it took everything he had not to show it. He didn’t know why it stung so much. Maybe because he had spent the last few months holding on to something that clearly hadn’t meant as much to Young as it had to him. Maybe because Young had moved on and Luke hadn’t even realised how much of him was still stuck back in that classroom at prom.
After a while, Young’s smile faltered a little. He leaned back, staring at his hands. “My parents are going to hate me for it,” he said quietly. “They wanted a perfect son. A straight one. A good Korean boy who makes his family proud and never breaks the rules.”
Luke felt his stomach twist again, but for a different reason this time. “They’ll come around,” he said softly, even though he wasn’t sure that was true.
Young gave him a small, almost pitying smile. “You don’t know my parents.”
“No, I don’t,” Luke admitted. “But I know you. And if they can’t see what kind of person you are, then that’s their loss.”
Young looked at him, eyes dark and tired. “You really think that?”
“I do. You don’t have to be what they want. You just have to be you.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. The quiet stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Snow fell outside, faintly visible through the curtains, and the dim light from the hallway made the room feel soft and still.
Young exhaled, a shaky little laugh escaping him. “You always know what to say, Luke Davies.”
Luke smiled faintly. “Sometimes.”
Young turned toward him then, expression unreadable. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“For not hating me.”
Luke blinked, startled. “Why would I hate you?”
Young shrugged. “Because I keep making a mess of things. Because I keep saying the wrong things at the wrong times. My actions don’t really reflect what I’m trying to portray sometimes but that’s a me problem.”
“You’re not the only one who’s done that,” Luke said softly. “Trust me.”
They fell quiet again, the silence this time softer, easier. After a long pause, Young stood up, stretching a little. “We should probably get some sleep,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” Luke said, though part of him didn’t want to move at all.
Young hesitated for a second, then leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Luke. It was slow and tentative, but warm. Luke froze, his heart jumping in his chest. He hugged back of course, holding on maybe a little too tightly, maybe a second too long. His arms curled around his waist and clasped together behind Young’s back. The boys body felt the exact same as it had when they had danced together at prom and Luke was hooked in an instant. He knew he shouldn’t, but he breathed in the faint smell of Young’s cologne, something clean and woodsy that made his head spin. His face was just about pressing into the crook of the taller boys neck and the skin looked so goddamn kissable and perfectly flawless.
Fuck. Luke didn’t want to let go.
But eventually, Young did. He stepped back and smiled softly. “Goodnight, Luke.”
Luke managed a nod, forcing himself to smile. “Goodnight, Youngjae.”
Young smiled softly at the use of his full name.
When the older boy eventually left the room, Luke stood there for a long time, staring at the empty space beside him. The warmth of the hug lingered on his arms, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just said goodnight to something he wasn’t ready to lose.
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