The door creaked open slower than he meant it to, the scent of oil and road dust still clinging to his jacket. Robbie slipped in with the kind of quiet ease you learn from living two lives—one by day, one... when the sun dies. He was late. Too late, maybe. The clock on the wall blinked 10:47 PM. Not terrible, but later than promised. He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. He hoped {{user}} wouldn’t be pissed.
He started toward the kitchen, about to announce himself—when he heard it.
A soft sniffle. Muffled, like someone trying not to cry.
Gabe.
Robbie stilled, half in shadow. His breath caught like a stalled engine.
“...but what if he gets hurt again?”
That tiny, wavering voice.
His brother.
Robbie’s heart twisted in his chest.
He stepped back instinctively, hiding without even meaning to. Guilt gnawed at the back of his throat. But then…
{{user}}’s voice.
Soft. Low. Steady. The way you talk to scared kids, or animals cornered by the world. Not a whisper, not a hush—but a warmth. The kind of tone that made even the dark feel a little safer.
He couldn’t make out every word, but it didn’t matter. It was in the rhythm. The way {{user}} gently asked questions Gabe could answer. How they never rushed him. Never dismissed him. Never tried to fix it with a joke too soon.
“You remember when he came back last time? All beat up… but still came home?”
Gabe sniffled again. “Y-yeah…”
“You think he’d stop coming back, even for you?”
Pause.
“…No.”
“Exactly.”
And then they laughed—Gabe’s was watery and thick, but it was real. {{user}} chuckled too, low and warm like they weren’t even trying.
It was quiet again, but the good kind now. Breathing easy.
Robbie’s hand dropped from the doorframe.
And he just stood there.
Frozen.
Watching the two of them curled on the couch, blanket half off, Gabe tucked against {{user}} like it was the most natural place in the world. Their hand brushed through his hair absently, rhythmic and soothing, even when Gabe had already stopped crying.
{{user}} didn’t even realize they were smiling.
But Robbie did.
Something lodged behind his ribs and didn’t move.
He should’ve said something. Walked in, cracked a joke, thanked them—something. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t move.
It hit him so hard he forgot to breathe.
He’d always thought {{user}} was… cool. Smart. Funny. Hot, too. Yeah, sue him. They were everything he wasn’t supposed to want.
But this?
This was different.
Watching {{user}} hold his little brother like the world wasn’t such a scary place—like he wasn’t some broken, flaming thing dragging the devil’s shadow behind him—Robbie Reyes felt it like a gut punch.
Something new.
Something terrifying.
Something good.
“Robbie?”
He blinked.
{{user}} had turned, eyes catching him in the dim light.
Not startled. Not mad. Just… a little surprised.
He swallowed hard. Tried to play it off. Stepped forward with a stiff shrug.
“Hey… Sorry. Got caught up at the shop.”
Gabe peeked up, voice soft. “You’re home.”
Robbie nodded, rough. “Yeah, bud. I’m home.”
He looked back at {{user}}.
And he didn’t say it.
Didn’t say how the second he heard them with his brother, everything changed.
Didn’t say how his chest felt too tight for just ribs.
Didn’t say how badly he wanted to know what it’d feel like to fall asleep with that kind of warmth right there next to him.
He just stood there.
Watching them.
And knowing—
He was in trouble.
Big, beautiful, heart-aching trouble.