Chapter Text
Three days.
He'd spent three days trying to avoid Lyle. Well, as much as possible since they were living in the same house, and he'd already worn out the excuse of tennis practice. He was exhausted. Tired. Drained. He knew he probably looked like shit. Dark bags under his eyes and all. It was stupid but those late-night conversations had turned into a ritual, and he missed Lyle. Sometimes they didn’t even talk; they would just lie in bed or hang out in the guest room, listening to the radio or watching movies. He missed him. So much. Like a lost limb. And it had only been three days, he couldn't possibly imagine a life like this. Holding back. Without Lyle.
Just the night before, on his way to his room, they had met on the stairs. And Lyle was wearing that brown jacket he liked to put on when Jamie came to visit. He said it made him look tough. Erik felt a tight knot twist in his stomach. Had Lyle seen her that day? Had they spent the night together - kissing, touching? The image burned in his mind. He looked for traces of her, but found none. There was only Lyle's sparkling eyes and charming smile. It stung, knowing they were all hers.
"Hey," He’d said. Doubtful eyes. "Where’ve you been? Couldn't find you anywhere yesterday."
Erik had just looked down, biting his lower lip. Anxiety taking hold.
"Yeah... I," He tried not to look him in the eye. "I was at Craig's."
He caught a glimpse of Lyle’s tiny grimace out of the corner of his eye - brows furrowing, lips parting. He knew his brother didn’t like Craig, just like their dad. Sometimes, Erik felt like the punchline to a joke that everyone in the house shared and laughed about, all behind his back. They didn't know shit. Lyle didn't know shit.
He was about to say something but Erik cut him off.
"Hey, um, I'm going to bed. I'm tired."
Lyle shut his mouth, whatever he was about to say gone for good. He blinked and guarded his expression. Erik had seen him do it a thousand times - with a bunch of people, but mostly with dad. He was good at it. First, Lyle would flash the original emotion before slipping into a blank stare for just a millisecond. Then he’d relax his features and put on whatever expression he wanted to project. Which, this time, was a gentle smile. A placating one. Fake. Could have fooled him if not for the eyes. Erik hated it. Hated him for using it with him.
“Yeah, right.” Lyle extended an arm and ruffled his hair, fingers on his scalp. That one touch sending a shiver down his spine. It was so… tender - but also condescending, almost mocking. “I bet you are.” Bitter.
Erik scoffed and brushed past him. Lyle could be like that sometimes. A total douchebag. Especially when hurt. Still, he felt a pang of guilt as he walked away, leaving him alone.
He still feels guilty. No subtle at all. They’d been in their own little bubble for days, and Erik had cut him off rather harshly, leaving early and coming back late at night. Lyle had called him the first day, voice tiny on the other side - “Are you okay?” He’d been wandering through the city, aimlessly drifting from one spot to another, killing time. “Yeah, just needed some air,” he had replied, but even he could hear the lie in his own words.
Mom didn't even care at this point. That’s how fucked they were. Or maybe she was just unconscious, slipping from crying to sleeping like she always did when Dad went away on these long trips.
He was really tired now. It was Saturday, and he had run out of excuses - no school, no practice, no sleepovers. It was time to talk, but he didn’t even know what he was going to say. Anticipation and fear coiled in his stomach. It was ridiculous; if there ever was anyone he shouldn’t be afraid of, it was Lyle.
Still, he stays in his room all day, watching as the light outside his window turns a warm orange, signaling the afternoon. Erik liked it. The way the light shifted - turning yellow, then orange, then red. They were all his favorite colors: warm and vivid. Alive.
Just as the violet hues began to blend into the scene, he heard a knock on his door.
His heart leaped into his throat.
Lyle appeared at the threshold. He always did that. It was kind of amusing - why knock if he always just walked in anyway? Erik figured it was part of their no-secrets dynamic. It didn’t really bother him; he had a strange relationship with closed doors too.
“Hey,” Lyle said with a soft smile. He walked in, shut the door, and leaned back against it. Just looking at him made him feel comforted. There was something in his physicality. In the way he existed in space. With a grin and a tilt of his head he asked, “Are you done hibernating?”
Erik rolled his eyes, but he smiled shyly as he glanced down at his socked feet on the bed. His legs were drawn up, knees tucked against his chest, hands cradling loosely around them.
Lyle sat on the edge of the bed, still smiling. The afternoon light hit him just right, highlighting his lashes and cheekbones. It was curious how his eyes drooped in that way that made it seem like he was always sleepy. It was the eyelashes, falling heavy and making him look dazed. A lovely, dreamy thing. Erik loved those eyes. The way they looked at him. Just like they were right now. Like that. Like he was his whole world. Erik's hands tightened his hold.
“Listen I…” Lyle lowered his gaze and the lashes looked obscene. Fluttering and making him ache. “I’m sorry about last night. I… didn’t mean it.” Again with the lidded eyes.
“Didn’t mean what?” He wanted to hear him say it. He hadn’t realized he had this mean streak in him. Perhaps it was just a little brother’s instinct. To see Lyle squirm a bit. Or maybe he did want some of it acknowledged.
Lyle leaned back a little.
“You know… the whole…” He seemed troubled, looking for the right words, hands moving in a vague gesture. “All that stuff with Craig.” He bit his lip. “I mean, I don’t really know the way it… is. But whatever it is, it’s none of my business.”
Erik fought back a smile.
“We’re just friends, really.”
Lyle narrowed his eyes in disbelief.
“I mean…we did some stuff.” He could feel his face heating. He wasn’t really sure why he was sharing this; maybe it felt like nothing, after all the other shit they’d already said. Maybe the afternoon light. Weakening his defenses. “But we decided to stay just friends.”
Lyle's mouth had dropped open in surprise, but he recovered quickly, a playful smirk creeping onto his face.
“It was that bad, huh?”
They both laughed quietly. It was strange; Erik didn’t feel as embarrassed as he thought he would if he ever said it out loud. Maybe it was Lyle’s eyes.
The warm orange tones were slowly fading, and soon they’d be swallowed by darkness, if they didn't turn on the light.
“You look tired.”
Erik smiled weakly.
“I haven't been sleeping well.”
It wasn’t just the whole thing with Lyle. It was everything else, too. Always on his mind, not giving him a break. He wondered if he’d ever feel at peace in his own skin again. If that kind of peace was even possible anymore. If it was reserved for other people. Not broken like him.
“Erik.”
Lyle’s voice dropped to that rich tone that sounded almost like a growl. And he wasn’t smiling anymore. The playful demeanor had shifted into a seriousness that caught him off guard. He held his breath.
“What’s wrong?” Lyle had this annoying way of asking questions sometimes, as if he thought he could solve everything.
Erik glanced at him for a second before looking down at his feet again.
“Nothing's wrong. I just—
“Bullshit.”
Lyle's eyes hardened just a bit.
“You've been avoiding me.” He didn't look angry, just hurt. Hurt and confusion. Flickering in his beautiful brown eyes.
Erik looked out the window, but he could feel Lyle staring, tracking his every move. What was he supposed to say? He wasn’t that good at lying, something always gave him away. And his brother knew him better than anyone, he would surely see through it. He tried with some of the truth.
“I needed some time alone” Partly the truth. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
Now it was definitely getting dark outside, yet the deep blue sky still barely lit the room.
“About everything, I guess.”
He turned to look at Lyle, but the night had done its job. Lyle’s face was now cast in a darker hue. An alluring shadowplay. He looked like a dream. Sharp. The whites of his eyes gleamed in the dim light, and his lips were slightly parted. All of him bathed in blue tones. Blue had always suited him. It made him look dangerous - but in a good way. The protective kind.
Then his words. Resonating through him, like deep ocean waves.
“You know you don't have to worry. About anything.”
Lyle lifted an arm and reached out to him, but stopped midway. He had this confused expression, looking somewhere between Erik’s feet and his hands cradling knees. It was weird, cause he rarely hesitated. He released a soft sigh. Deciding.
Then he reached out again and caressed his socked foot. Just a light brush with the back of his hand. Knuckles bumping against toes. Erik gasped quietly.
“Just leave it all to me.”
It was a strange gesture, oddly intimate despite its lightness. Lyle's hand lingered against his socked foot for just a moment, the warmth radiating from his touch spreading through his body. Then, real slow, his strong knuckles began to travel up Erik’s bent leg. Leaving a tingling line of warmth behind as they moved.
Lyle’s hand stopped against Erik’s fingers, and he could feel every detail. The softness of Lyle's skin against his, the gentle pressure. The spot where they were touching suddenly became his only focus. Hand feeling sensitive. Body suddenly alert. The room was shrinking around them, their breaths the only sounds in the enveloping silence.
It felt like an admission. Like a question. Shaky and insecure. Something fragile, held together only by the soft contact between their hands.
I miss you.
Do you miss me?
Erik couldn’t quite explain it, but sometimes he felt he could almost hear Lyle’s thoughts. They'd always been like that. Always talking with their eyes and hands. A silent, constant dialogue that transcended words. They’d crafted it and perfected it over the years.Their eyes would lock from across the room, exchanging long, meaningful glances and they would know. An escape, an inside joke, a warning. Erik thinks that maybe it started with dad. He remembers it vividly. Because it's one of his first memories: Lyle’s tiny hands making gentle, placating motions behind dad's back, a silent plea for Erik to hold back his tears, to hide any sign of weakness from him - cause it could get worse. Now it was a deep instinct. Attuned as he was to Lyle's body. He always knew what he meant.
He tried to find his brother's eyes but he wasn't looking at him, eyes pinned to their hands, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it. The darkness had deepened, swallowing some details. They were just mere silhouettes facing each other. Somehow it felt better. In the shadows. He felt a bit bolder without Lyle looking at him. Without him knowing exactly what he was thinking. Not noticing the way his eyes had grown heavy-lidded. He turned his hand and pressed his fingers against Lyle’s palm, feeling the warmth there.
Yes. I missed you.
I still miss you.
“There are things you can't fix, Lyle.”
He licked his lips. Their fingers now brushing against each other. Each fingertip tingled as it made contact.
“How can you know? If you don't tell me?”
Lyle's voice. It sounded closer, softer, yet still rough around the edges. Erik was acutely aware of it now that they were in the dark. The warmth in his tone made him feel weak, as if he were clinging to a fragile thread, teetering on the edge of a very high precipice.
He wanted to tell him. All the things he made him feel. All the things he wanted to do.
Lyle lowered their joined hands to the bed, giving him a gentle squeeze, an unspoken question lingering in the air. But he couldn't think with his fingers tracing soft patterns on the back of his hand. Nerves fluttering as he took a deep breath. Another one. With an aching pressure in his chest, he carefully pulled his hand away. Not looking up.
Slowly, he unfolded his legs, letting them hang off the side of the mattress. And the rustling of his clothes seemed amplified in the quiet room. Now they were sitting side by side, closer than before, and Erik could feel Lyle's body heat radiating towards him, wrapping around him like an invisible blanket. Drawing him in.
All his thoughts were twisting inside him. He didn’t know how to answer, or if he even could. And Lyle didn’t deserve this. He couldn’t bear the thought of making him doubt, even for a second, how much he needed him. But it was all a fucking mess. He was the mess. A tangled web of guilt and longing. He was caught in it. No way out.
“I don’t know. I just…”
Lyle shifted beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. Their knees brushed for a fleeting moment, and Erik stiffened. He kept staring at the shadowed floor.
“Is it because of me?” Barely a whisper. “Did I…?
Erik sucked in a breath.
“No, Lyle.” He turned to look at him for a second, trying to make him understand. But then, softer, “Well, not because of what you think.”
Silence.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He did sound kind of pissed off now.
“It’s not… it’s not about something you did,” Erik muttered, voice low and strained. He wanted to say more, make some sense, but the words kept slipping away, dancing around the truth.
Lyle shifted again, knees bumping once more. He got restless so easily. Couldn't seem to keep still for long - constantly tapping a foot or making small hand movements. Erik had always found it endearing, even now, when he was the cause of it.
“Then what is it?” Sharper now, frustration bubbling to the surface.
Erik exhaled, feeling his chest tighten.
“It’s complicated.”
Lyle let out a heavy sigh, pulling away slightly. The sudden loss of warmth left him feeling cold. Exposed.
“You’re not even giving me a chance to understand. You’re just… shutting me out.”
Erik’s fists clenched, nails digging into his palms.
“I’m not shutting you out,” he said, “I just don’t know how to—”
“Erik.” Lyle’s voice softened, leaving a hint of vulnerability beneath the frustration. “Please. Just… talk to me.”
Erik hesitated before finally lifting his eyes from the floor, meeting Lyle’s gaze even though the darkness masked their faces. God, he looked so…
The faint light coming through the window highlighted the line of his nose and his lips. Dilated eyes. Staring at him, as if just by looking, he could suddenly understand. Erik’s heart skipped a beat. There was something raw in the way he looked at him, uncertainty and something else that looked like love. Like longing. It pinned him in place, making it hard to breathe. His fingers twitched at his side, wanting to reach out, to close the gap, to touch that line of light running down Lyle's face. Just touch.
Just a touch.
Slowly, Erik reached out into the darkness, hand hesitating in the space between them. He could feel the warmth radiating from Lyle. Close enough to touch. But still so far. It didn't feel right.
On a shaky exhale, he let his fingers brush against Lyle’s arm, the fabric of his sweater soft and smooth beneath his fingertips. Erik's hand settled there, grounding himself in the solidness of his brother’s body. Lyle didn't move. Eyes softening even more and lips parting. Gentle.
A thudding pulse filled his ears. Thump, thump. A wild creature inside his ribs, sending waves of heat coursing through him. All these unspoken feelings taking physical form. Materializing around them. His breath quickened, shallow and shaky, as if each inhale might give him the courage he needed to move closer.
He felt Lyle tense. Maybe he could feel it too. The shift in the air. The way it had thickened, charged with something heavy. Something filled with intent.
He felt his thoughts start to dissolve under that rhythmic pulse. Thump. Fingers moving of their own accord, gliding up to the soft fabric of Lyle's sleeve. He traced a slow, cautious path toward his shoulder, gaze locked on the movement, an echo. Lyle’s breathing changed too. It grew heavier, more uneven, the sound of it suddenly louder in the quiet room. Mingling with his own. Erik could see his chest rising and falling in deep movements. And, as his fingers glided higher, gently tracing the delicate space between neck and shoulder, Lyle’s body went still.
Erik swallowed hard and let his fingers drift higher, reaching the strong line of his jaw with a featherlight touch. Lyle inhaled sharply, a quick intake of breath. Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet Lyle’s eyes. They glistened in the dim light, lashes fluttering confused.
If he was gonna do this then there was no longer any reason to hold back. To keep his thoughts in check. He just wanted to let go and surrender to them. Give in.
So he let his imagination run wild. Let him see.
His eyes dropped to Lyle’s slightly parted lips as he imagined what it would feel like to press their mouths together. The feel of him. Lips yielding beneath him. Soft. He wanted to lick into that mouth and taste. Taste him hot and wet inside. Wanted to suck on his full lower lip. Sink his teeth into it. His mouth watered, and he licked his lips. He was unaware of the look on his face but there was no way Lyle didn't understand now. He had to know. It was undeniable. Unmistakable.
Still, he felt the need to show him, to make sure there was no doubt.
Show him.
He could feel himself spiraling out of control with each exhale, but he couldn’t stop. His fingers followed the curve of Lyle's jaw, breath catching as he let them drift, moving gently along his skin until they reached soft parted lips.
Both their breaths hitched sharply, shaky and loud. Wet.
A trembling motion. Lyle's mouth falling even more open beneath his fingertips. The warmth of his breath against Erik's skin, sending an electric pulse through his entire body. All the blood going south.
His lips were so soft. Just as he’d imagined. Stomach flipping and heart hammering as if it might leap out of his chest, he pressed gently on them, feeling the heat of another soft, unsteady puff of air against his fingers. He could feel it all. Lyle's hot wet gasps. Shallow and quick. Chest expanding with each labored breath as if he were trying to process everything all at once.
Erik quickly glanced up, and his breath caught at the sight. Lyle’s pupils were dilated, dark and wide, framed by heavy lids. Another thump echoed in his ears, louder this time. A warm sensation bloomed in his lower stomach, quickly taking form and spreading through his groin.
Ah.
He leaned slightly forward to better observe the movement of his fingers, captivated by the way they pressed and released Lyle's warm skin. Erik let his touch linger, applying a bit more pressure as he traced downward. Lyle's lower lip catched and slipped open with the motion, revealing a glimpse of his teeth. Eyes fluttering shut.
Erik gasped, feeling a primal thrill at the sight. That sharpness. He sensed the shift almost instantly. The tension in Lyle's posture melted away, body no longer rigid but leaning into his touch. Drawn in.
He hadn’t realized how close they’d gotten until he felt the warmth of Lyle’s forehead against his, almost touching. With a heavy sigh, Erik slowly tried to withdraw his fingers, but Lyle followed the motion with his mouth, leaning in closer. He kept the touch light for a moment before releasing a soft sigh and pressing his parted lips more firmly against the tips of Erik's fingers.
It was almost a kiss. An open mouthed one.
"Hnn-”
A soft, high-pitched, breathy sound slipped from Erik's throat, cutting through the silence and startling them both.
The realization struck them at the same time — eyes widening, faces pulling back slightly, and Erik’s hand falling between them. A jolt of electricity seemed to crackle in the air, their heavy breaths the only sound in the room, filling the darkness.
The weight of what they had just shared pressed heavily on Erik, though he still didn’t know exactly what it meant. Do you?... A sudden rush of doubt, mixed with the lingering heat of the moment, flooded his mind, forcing him to look down. To hide.
But Lyle kept leaning in. Erik could feel him, their thighs now pressed together. They had crossed a line. The two of them. Together.
“Lyle.” Barely a whisper. Shaky and high. Eyes still cast downward.
Suddenly, the tip of Lyle's nose. Brushing against his cheekbone. Warm. Nuzzling softly but insistently. Moving up and down. Butterflies erupted in Erik's stomach. Eyes falling closed. Each heated caress sending pulses of heat straight to his cock. He felt Lyle's breath on his cheek. Then at the corner of his mouth. A needy whimper escaped Erik’s lips, low and raw.
Lyle paused, pressing their foreheads together - a tender, familiar touch. It had always soothed him, but now it only made him desperate. For more. He wanted him to just…
“Lyle.” A quiet plea.
One of them was trembling, or maybe they both were. Breaths mingling in the small space between their mouths, both panting heavily. This need. It was overwhelming. Erik wanted so much. His whole body was aching, throbbing with want. And yet, he was terrified.
"Lyle... I'm scared."
The words were so soft, Erik thought Lyle might not have heard them. But then he felt him freeze, breath hitching in response.
Suddenly, all that heat vanished, so sharply it left him feeling cold and disoriented. Lyle stood up from the bed abruptly. His shadow shifted in the darkness, moving away. One of Lyle’s hands rose to cover his mouth, while the other grasped the back of his neck, as if trying to steady himself. Erik’s heart pounded in his chest, all that fear swirling as the room fell into a tense, unsettling quiet.
“I’m sorry,” Lyle murmured. Voice small and trembling with fear.
With one final muffled "sorry," he stepped back, movements unsteady. He backed up until his back hit the door handle.
He twisted it open with a shaky hand. The sound echoing sharply in the heavy silence. Without another word, he slipped out, disappearing into the hallway.
The door remained ajar, allowing a bright streak of light to cut into Erik's room, stark and glaring against the darkness.