The text came late in the evening, after another restless day of sidelong glares and sharp words that meant too much.
Julian:Come over tomorrow. Project.
That was it. No emojis. No details. Just an order disguised as an invitation.
Noah stared at it for a full minute, debating whether to ignore it, throw his phone, or show up just to prove Julian couldn't boss him around.
He typed back one word.
Noah:Fine.
He told himself it was about the project. That's all.
But his pulse didn't believe him.
Julian lived in a quiet suburban neighborhood, the kind with kids' bikes tossed on lawns and wind chimes singing in the breeze. Noah parked his car at the curb, gripping the wheel tighter than he should.
This wasn't his world. His world was stone driveways, silence, the heavy tick of grandfather clocks.
The house in front of him was alive. Yellow paint chipped around the windows, flowerpots on the porch, laughter spilling through the walls.
He knocked once, and the door flew open before he could drop his hand.
"Hi!"
A little girl with wild curls and a missing front tooth beamed up at him. She couldn't have been more than seven. "Are you Noah?"
He blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… yeah."
She gasped like she'd just met a superhero. "You're handsome!"
From somewhere inside, another voice shouted, "Lia, don't scare him off!"
Julian appeared, looking exasperated, but there was a faint flush on his cheeks. "Ignore her."
But Lia wasn't done. She tugged at Noah's sleeve with all the boldness in the world. "Are you and Julian dating?"
Julian choked. Full-on, coughing, glaring at his sister like he could incinerate her on the spot.
Noah… laughed. The first real laugh he'd had in weeks. It shook out of him, unexpected and warm, and Julian's glare turned on him instantly.
"You think this is funny?" Julian hissed.
Noah grinned, crouching down to Lia's level. "The funniest thing I've heard all week." He leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, "Don't worry, I'll let you know if your brother ever begs me for a date."
Julian made a strangled noise. "Get inside. Now."
The moment Noah stepped inside, the difference hit him like a wave.
The air smelled like warm tortillas and spices. The living room was cluttered with toys, books, blankets tossed carelessly over couches. Somewhere in the kitchen, pots clattered and someone hummed.
Two more kids barreled down the hallway, one with glasses too big for his face, the other carrying a stuffed rabbit by its ears. They skidded to a stop when they saw Noah, wide-eyed.
"Whoa," the boy whispered. "Julian brought home a giant."
Noah raised a brow. "I'm not that tall."
"Are you in the NBA?" the younger one demanded.
"No, hockey," Noah muttered, and suddenly three pairs of eyes sparkled like he'd just announced he was a knight.
Before he could say more, a booming voice carried from the kitchen. "Ah! You must be Noah!"
Julian's stepfather emerged, tall, broad-shouldered, with an English accent so warm it made every word sound like an invitation. He clapped Noah on the shoulder with the ease of a man who welcomed anyone. "I've heard about you. Brave enough to put up with our Julian, eh?"
Noah froze, caught between politeness and the urge to smirk at Julian. "Something like that."
Julian muttered, "Kill me now," under his breath.
Then Julian's mom appeared, flour on her hands, smile radiant. "Mi casa es tu casa, Noah. You're staying for dinner."
Noah blinked. "I—uh—"
Julian groaned. "Mom."
But she waved a hand. "No arguing. You're too skinny anyway." She winked. "Boys your age need to eat."
Noah didn't know what to do with the warmth wrapping around him like a blanket he'd never had before.
They finally escaped upstairs to Julian's room, which was neat, books stacked with clinical precision, desk cleared for the project.
Noah dropped his bag, still shaken by the chaos downstairs. "Your house is… loud."
Julian rolled his eyes. "It's called a family, Blake. Don't look so traumatized."
"I'm not traumatized," Noah muttered, though his chest felt weirdly heavy.
They started working, scribbling notes and piecing together their research, but the sounds of laughter and pots clattering below filtered up through the floorboards. Every now and then, one of the kids would knock, shouting something through the door before running off.
Noah found himself smiling without meaning to.
Julian noticed. He didn't comment, but the sight twisted something in his chest.
By the time dinner rolled around, Noah thought he'd managed to survive. But nothing could've prepared him for the chaos of the Ainsworth dinner table.
Bowls of food filled every inch—enchiladas, rice, beans, homemade salsa that burned his tongue. The kids fought over chairs, their mom laughed, their stepfather poured iced tea into mismatched cups.
Julian tried to keep his head down, mortified. But Noah?
Noah sat there, stiff at first, then slowly… softening.
When Lia passed him a tortilla with a grin, when Julian's mom insisted he take seconds, when his stepfather asked him about hockey and actually listened, Noah felt something he hadn't in years.
Belonging.
And it terrified him.
After dinner, when the kids were distracted with cartoons and Julian was cleaning up plates, Noah leaned back, watching.
Julian caught his gaze, frowning. "What?"
"Nothing." Noah smirked faintly. "Just… didn't think you'd be the big brother type."
Julian froze, then rolled his eyes. "Don't read into it. They're exhausting."
But the faint redness on his ears betrayed him.
Noah chuckled, shaking his head. "Still. You're good with them."
The compliment slipped out before he could stop it.
Julian blinked, startled. Then he looked away, pretending to stack plates. "Shut up."
And that's where the jealousy thread can still burn: maybe one of Julian's siblings keeps asking if Noah's his boyfriend, maybe the stepfather jokes about how "protective" Noah looked when Chad got too close at the party, maybe the mom teases them both without realizing the tension beneath.
Noah, for once, isn't angry—he feels seen. But he also feels out of place, like he doesn't deserve this warmth.
Julian, meanwhile, can't shake the fact that Noah fits here too well, and that terrifies him.