A week passed, and the house no longer felt like a home.
What was once warm with shared glances and quiet laughter now felt like a carefully choreographed dance around unspoken words. Noël no longer lingered in Avery's space like he used to. Their hands no longer brushed when reaching for the same cup. Avery stopped calling him "chef" with that teasing smile. They were both present but distant. As though invisible walls had gone up overnight, too high to scale with words alone.
Sylvie felt it too.
On the seventh morning, she stood in the hallway, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at the closed bedroom doors of her brother and Noël. With a sigh, she turned away, dragging her small suitcase behind her.
Before leaving, she found Noël alone in the kitchen, drying freshly washed dishes.
"…You're really good at cleaning," she said lightly.
Noël looked up, startled. "Oh—uh, thank you."
Sylvie hesitated before walking fully into the room. She leaned against the counter, watching him work for a moment.
"I wanted to say sorry," she began quietly. "For being rude the first day I came. I was… defensive."
Noël blinked, unsure what to say.
"And I'm sorry for what I said in the hallway," she added, her voice softer now. "About your background. I didn't mean to hurt you."
He paused, then offered a small smile. "It's okay. You were just being honest." He didn't think that she noticed him in the hallway.
She tilted her head. "Still. I didn't mean to make it sound like… your relationship is doomed or something."
He didn't reply, but he didn't need to.
Sylvie noticed how his hands trembled slightly as he placed a cup on the rack.
She sighed. "Just… take care of my brother while you still can, okay?"
The words struck him like a hidden blade. While you still can. Like time was running out. Like he was on borrowed time in Avery's world.
Sylvie was raised on logic not feelings just like her brothers, but she is a bit more immune to feelings compared to her brothers. Due to this she tends to say things without realising the impact of her words. Sometimes she tries to fix it but it just comes across sounding worse.
When she finally left, the house fell into a heavier silence than before.
Noël retreated into cleaning and silence. It was the only way he could cope with the growing ache in his chest. The dread of being the problem. Of being the reason Avery was suffering. The house was spotless, but he felt messier than ever inside.
Avery, meanwhile, was fighting a battle of his own.
His mind had been spiraling since the call with his father. The old man had found out who Noël was and made it crystal clear what would happen if Avery didn't fall in line. Marriage to a high-ranking Omega family, political leverage, company reputation—it was all on the line.
"You're risking everything for someone who can't even bring you stability," his father had growled. "Do you know what it would cost if the press found out you're living with an orphan Omega?"
He didn't answer. He had just clenched his jaw until it ached and ended the call.
So, he chose silence. Not because he didn't love Noël. But because if he let himself feel everything, he was afraid he'd snap. Afraid he'd throw everything away without a plan—and drag Noël into a war he wasn't prepared for.
That evening, he came home late. His jacket was wet from the rain, his eyes dark with exhaustion. He didn't say a word. Just walked past Noël, who looked up from the couch with hesitant hope.
No words.
No glance.
No warmth.
Avery walked straight to the bedroom and shut the door. Noël heard the shower start a moment later.
He waited until it stopped.
He waited to hear if Avery would come out.
But the door stayed closed all night.
Noël didn't knock.
Instead, he curled up on the couch, arms around his knees, and tried not to let the silence swallow him whole.
______
The next morning, the kitchen was bathed in soft golden light as Noël stood at the counter, frying eggs with trembling hands. The smell of butter filled the space, but his mind wasn't in it.
His heart felt tight in his chest, his throat aching. He didn't realize his vision was blurry until a single tear slid down his cheek and dropped into the pan with a faint sizzle.
He gasped slightly, brushing it away.
"Why am I crying?" he whispered to himself.
"...Noël?"
The voice startled him.
He turned, and Avery was standing in the doorway, shirt half-buttoned, hair still damp from his early shower. His eyes were fixed on Noël's face. On the tear that was rolling down his cheek.
Noël tried to smile. "Good morning."
Avery didn't respond. He walked straight to him.
Noël took a step back instinctively.
But then—strong arms wrapped around him.
Noël froze. His hands hovered in the air.
"…Avery?"
"I'm sorry," Avery whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Noël stood still for a moment, but the sound of Avery's voice—the way it cracked—broke something open inside him.
He clutched the front of Avery's shirt tightly and buried his face against his chest.
They stood there in silence, both trembling.
Noël didn't know what he was crying for anymore. Was it because he missed Avery? Or because he knew he was losing him?
But Avery's embrace was firm, grounding. It was the first time in days that either of them had touched.
And neither of them wanted to let go.
Noël broke down completely.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he cried without holding back. His body trembling as he clung to Avery. The quiet, aching sobs tore through him like waves. Avery simply held him tighter, whispering apologies again and again until Noël finally started to calm down.
When the crying had subsided, Avery gently pulled back. He cupped Noël's face, wiping away the tears with his thumbs, and looked him in the eye.
"I'm going to fix this," he said softly. "Everything. You don't have to carry it anymore. I've got you."
During breakfast, the air felt a little lighter. Noël sat quietly, chewing slowly, but his eyes kept drifting to Avery. He looked different—tired, maybe, but determined. Eventually, Noël spoke.
"Are things… really going to be okay?"
Avery met his gaze and smiled, a little worn but sincere. "Yes. I've got everything under control."
What Noël didn't know was that Avery had barely slept. After returning home the night before, he'd spent most of the night awake, tangled in thoughts, drafting and redrafting plans. In the end, he'd come up with something risky, maybe reckless, but it was the only way he could break free from the golden prison his father had locked him in. He had no intention of dragging Noël into that world with him.
Reaching into his bag, Avery pulled out a folded piece of paper and slid it across the table. Noël picked it up and stared.
It was an enrollment form from his old university.
"I want you to go back," Avery said. "Start from the next intake."
Noël blinked, stunned. His fingers tightened around the paper. How did Avery know? He'd been quietly considering it for weeks, ever since their conversation about dreams when they invited Leo. But he hadn't told anyone. "I… I've been thinking about it, but I needed more time to save. I still owe them—"
"You don't need to worry about that anymore," Avery interrupted gently. "The debt is paid. And your tuition's covered. All the way to graduation."
Noël stared at him, a thousand thoughts crowding his head. His heart swelled with gratitude, but also hesitation. Was it really okay to let Avery do all this for him? Was he becoming a burden?
Avery saw the silence for what it was. He reached out and tapped Noël's hand lightly.
"In exchange," he said, "you'll come up with a business plan. Use the money you've already saved to start your restaurant. I'll be a shareholder. Strictly professional."
He grinned, teasing now.
"And I expect every dish to taste like it belongs in a five-star hotel. And more importantly, it has to please my palate."
Noël let out a soft laugh, the tension slowly uncoiling in his chest.
"Only if you promise to be my most annoying customer," he said.
Avery smirked. "Deal."
And for the first time in a while, things didn't feel so heavy anymore.