Chapter Text
NOTES |
- please please please put your thoughts below , i like reading them.
- happy reading!
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Nathaniel had always been unsettled by Rence’s presence...
There was something about him, despite having an unsettling calmness, there was a certain obscurity in him that Nathan never quite unraveled no matter how many years they spent living under the same roof.
For someone their age, Rence carried himself with a stillness that felt far too practiced.
Rence stepped into their home on the worst day of his life. The day he lost his parents. It was tragic, sure, but Nathaniel couldn’t bring himself to relate. His own parents were still alive, after all.
Still, Nathaniel couldn’t help thinking that day had ruined something in his life too, for reasons he kept buried. It was the day his parents’ attention began to drift away from him.
Yet Nathaniel never let his feelings show. Around Rence, he was always polite and unfailingly civil.
They grew up sharing the same halls, the same dining table, the same tutors, the same endless years of childhood. And to anyone looking in from the outside, they seemed perfectly fine.
But it was Sebastian, four years older than them, who ended up being closer to Rence.
Even though Nathaniel and Rence were nearer in age, it was Sebastian who seemed to get him better.
Around Sebastian, Rence was more relaxed. He laughed more, talked more openly. Sebastian paid attention to him in a way that sometimes felt stronger than how he treated his own brother.
Nathaniel told himself it wasn’t resentment. It was just something he noticed. If there was a line between them, it was already there, written clearly on paper.
Academically, Rence excelled. He was studious unerringly disciplined.
Nathaniel was no less diligent, yet often, he found himself standing just behind him, second on the dean’s list, second in recognition, second in praise.
Perhaps that was where the faint trace of animosity first took root: in the quiet humiliation of always almost being enough.
And above all it was Rence’s quiet distance.
For years, Rence made no effort to grow close to him. He remained polite but reserved, cordial yet unreachable.
Nathaniel thought it was a little arrogant, almost like a quiet insult he was supposed to ignore. In the end, it was his parents who brought Rence in, gave him a place to stay, and made sure he could study and live comfortably. And yet, it didn’t always feel like there was any real gratitude for it.
There were moments that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He would hear Sebastian and Rence in quiet conversation, their laughter spilling easily into the hall. But the instant Nathaniel entered the room, the laughter would cease. A silence would follow, abrupt and unnatural.
It was off-putting…
Why could Rence not be the same when he was present? Why did the air shift so distinctly around him?
Nathaniel could not say when his wariness hardened into something sharper. Perhaps it had always been there? And it keeps growing quietly alongside them.
After all, it is a peculiar thing to share a home with someone who feels both family and stranger at once.
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Nathaniel tried, for a long time, to ignore the gnawing discomfort whenever Rence was near. He told himself it was nothing more than pride, a trivial irritation born from always coming second.
And yet, the truth was messier, more insidious. It wasn’t just competition or Sebastian’s favoritism - - it was a sense of displacement, a quiet unease that followed Rence like a shadow, even into adulthood.
College changed things between them.
Even though the halls were long and the walls were thick, they were still living in the same house. Somehow, that alone was enough to shift the way they dealt with each other.
It was during a late-night study session. They’d been paired for a project, something that would’ve normally made Nathaniel a bit uneasy, since he still wasn’t fully comfortable around Rence.
But Rence leaned in closer while they were reading. He actually paid attention to Nathaniel, asked questions when needed, and even pushed back on some of his ideas. And Nathaniel, being logical about it, couldn’t really argue with that.
He still felt a flicker of annoyance at first—old habits dying hard—but he couldn’t ignore the way Rence looked at him when he spoke, or how effortlessly articulate he was, or how his mind produced ideas Nathaniel couldn’t even begin to form. It wasn’t arrogance or pride. He was simply focused and smart.
And then there were moments like when Rence would join in on the light teasing or jokes with Sebastian. Not often, but enough for Nathaniel to start relaxing a little too because he is finally being included.
It made him wonder if the lines he had drawn in his mind were really as fixed as he had always believed. The tension he’d been holding onto felt, in hindsight, less about Rence and more about himself. About comparison, about quietly measuring worth, about insecurities he had never truly confronted.
He still didn’t trust the ease with which Rence fit into Sebastian’s world, and he doubted he ever would fully. But now, there was recognition he hadn’t allowed himself to before, that Rence was not a rival to be taken offense at, but a presence that demanded acknowledgement, even if it slightly disturbed him.
A fragile truce slowly formed between them. Nathaniel found himself thinking, almost hopeful—that perhaps they could be friends after all.
They did. They became closer. But not just in the effortless, natural way Rence seemed to connect with Sebastian.
As they grew older, Sebastian and Rence only became more inseparable. What once started as companionship slowly evolved into something that resembled a brotherly bond.
Nathaniel would often find them in the courtyard or the sitting room, bumping shoulders in playful fights, laughing without holding back as they wrestled like boys who trusted each other completely. They had inside jokes in half-finished sentences, looks that said everything without needing words, and a kind of easy teasing that flowed without effort.
Nathaniel wasn’t distant from his brother. He and Sebastian talked often and shared things, too. But it was different. They could trade playful insults one moment and fall into easy calm the next. Maybe because they were real brothers, there was always a built-in respect beneath the casual closeness.
But Rence with Sebastian—Rence seemed lighter...
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Then Allison entered the picture.
She was Sebastian’s age. Bright, gracious, from a family their parents approved of almost immediately.
Yet curiously, it was Rence who grew close to her first. They spoke often at gatherings. She laughed easily at his quieter remarks. Nathaniel did not mind. Why should he? It seemed harmless, natural even.
But there were moments, those small, nearly imperceptible moments, when Nathaniel would catch Rence looking at her.
Not boldly. Never boldly.
It was in the pauses. In the way his gaze lingered a fraction longer than necessary.
In the way his expression differs when she speaks, as though he was analyzing something.
The looks were subtle enough to escape casual notice.
He had spent years living with Rence in silence, slowly noticing the small changes in his expressions and learning what his restraint meant. Even if there was distance between them, just watching him was enough to understand him.
And then an announcement came one evening at dinner.
Sebastian was composed but unmistakably pleased to introduce Allison to their parents as his girlfriend.
Nobody was not a shocked. Their parents welcomed the news warmly, offering approval with smiles and nods that carried the weight of expectation and satisfaction.
Nathaniel’s gaze, however, for some reason, drifted elsewhere.
To Rence in particular
It lasted no more than a heartbeat, a small shift in his eyes, a brief flicker. It disappeared so quickly it almost felt imagined. A flash of pain crossed his face, gone just as fast, before Rence straightened himself again.
His usual expression came back a second later, a smile that felt a bit delayed, like he had to put it on. It looked forced, Nathan thought it was so… so hard to watch.
Rence congratulated them. His voice was steady. His expression impeccable. But the smile did not reach his eyes.
Nathaniel almost doubted himself. Perhaps it was a trick of the light. Perhaps he was projecting meaning where none existed.
He could tell the difference between Rence’s polite smile and the real one. He knew how his eyes changed when something was wrong, how he’d pull himself together like he was putting on armor too fast. Years of quiet competition had made Nathaniel notice all of it, whether he wanted to or not.
Or maybe Rence’s eyes were just too open, too honest so they always gave away what the rest of him tried to cover…
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After that night, something in Rence changed in a way so subtly it was so impossible to notice.
It wasn’t abrupt enough to alarm anyone. There were no sudden decisions or cold exchanges, no visible cracks in the surface.
It was more subtle than that. He simply began to recede…
He spent longer hours in the library, often returning home well past dinner with the reasonable excuse that they were graduating students and the demands were heavier than ever. Papers, research, preparations for the future, no one questioned it. It made sense. Rence had always been diligent.
Sebastian, too, became increasingly occupied, drawn into the gravity of the family business. Meetings replaced idle afternoons. Responsibility settled onto his shoulders with natural authority. The once frequent laughter between him and Rence grew scarce, reduced to passing conversations and tired smiles exchanged in hallways.
Nathaniel watched the distance widen.
He noticed how Rence no longer lingered in shared spaces. How he excused himself earlier than usual. How he answered questions with just enough words to remain polite, but never enough to invite further inquiry. The drift was deliberate, though disguised as maturity.
And Nathaniel understood why.
Time, indifferent as ever, carried them forward. Graduation arrived in a blur of ceremonies and applause. Both Nathaniel and Rence finished with distinction—flying colors, as their parents proudly declared to relatives and acquaintances alike. Photographs were taken. Congratulatory handshakes.
Their futures gleamed with promise.
It was meant to be the beginning of something.
Instead, it turned into an ending…
During the dinner celebration, amidst the soft clinking of glasses and the warm glow of congratulatory speeches, Sebastian rose from his seat, Allison’s hand clasped securely in his.
He announced that they had decided to get married.
The room erupted in delight. Their parents beamed. Blessings were given freely. Plans began forming almost immediately, speaking in excited fragments across the table.
Nathaniel felt the shift before he even looked.
Rence had gone still.
Not visibly distressed. Not dramatically shaken. But still—unnaturally so... His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the stem of his glass. His gaze lowered for a fleeting second before lifting again, composed as ever.
And then he smiled.
Rence offered his congratulations first.
Rence’s voice did not falter. His expression did not break. If anything, he appeared proud, gracious, supportive, impeccably dignified.
No one else would have seen it.
But Nathaniel did.
He saw the way Rence’s eyes lost their light for a fraction too long. The way his shoulders squared, as if bracing against something unseen. The way he inhaled slowly before speaking, steadying himself.
It was the look of a man watching a door close quietly and permanent.
And at that moment, Nathaniel felt something unfamiliar stir within him, but he brushes it off.
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The days passed quickly. One moment, Sebastian had just announced his engagement.
And before Nathan knew it, they were all sitting inside the church, waiting for the ceremony to start.
It was a grand wedding. The place was filled with family, close friends, and business partners. Flowers lined the aisle, soft music played in the background, and everything felt warm and festive.
Rence wasn’t there yet.
He had recently started an internship at one of the biggest companies in the Metro.
He said he couldn’t take time off easily, but he promised he would come, even if he arrived late since the wedding was in the afternoon.
Nathaniel and Sebastian didn’t think much of it.
He was genuinely happy for his brother. Truly. Sebastian looked proud and steady at the altar. Allison looked beautiful walking down the aisle. Their parents were glowing with approval.
The ceremony began. Vows were exchanged. There were soft tears among the guests. Laughter when Sebastian’s voice trembled slightly. It was everything a wedding should be.
Then, during the vows, Nathaniel casually turned his head toward the back of the church.
And he saw him.
Rence had come in without a sound and taken the last pew, but Nathaniel felt his presence right away.
His eyes were full of tears. He was crying, but not loudly. There were no sobs, no shaking shoulders. The tears just fell down his face in silence. He didn’t wipe them away. He didn’t even move. At first, Nathan thought maybe they were tears of joy.
But there was something in his expression that didn’t match that. It looked less like he was watching a wedding and more like he was attending a funeral.
Nathaniel stared.
There was something heavier in Rence’s gaze—something closer to grief, like he had lost something he couldn’t replace.
Nathaniel noticed it too easily, unsure if it was his own attention or Rence’s inability to fully conceal his emotions.
And suddenly, everything made sense…
The distance after the engagement.
The long hours at the library.
The forced smiles.
The way his eyes trembled the night Sebastian announced the marriage.
The way he congratulated them too quickly.
It wasn’t coincidence. It wasn’t Nathan’s imagination.
Rence was in love with Allison…
The realization didn’t feel satisfying. It didn’t feel like winning. It felt heavy.
For years, Nathaniel thought Rence had been his rival. But standing there in that church, watching him cry alone in the last row, Nathan understood the truth.
Rence had been quietly losing the one person he loved without ever having the right to say so.
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A week after the wedding, Rence announced that he would be moving out.
He said it would be more practical to live near his office. The commute was long. The workload demanding. It was a reasonable decision, and their parents did not object. In fact, they seemed proud that he was taking another step forward in his career.
Rence packed quietly.
He did not ask for a farewell dinner. He did not linger in the hallways or sit a little longer at the table. And he did not say goodbye to Allison and Sebastian.
And Nathan could agree with that decision. It was a logical thing to do.
Whatever Rence had once felt, it had no place now. Allison was Sebastian’s wife. Blood-related or not, they had grown up as brothers. There were lines that could not be crossed.
So, Rence left…
Just like that.
At first, there were occasional updates, brief mentions from their parents about how well he was doing, how promising his position was. But slowly, even those grew rare. Nathaniel became consumed by family business. Sebastian, now married, was busier than ever. Life moved forward the way it always does, without waiting for anyone to catch up.
Years passed. Five years in exact.
And then, life shifted again.
Allison died…
The news came suddenly. Too sudden. An illness that worsened quickly. A loss that felt impossible to prepare for. The house that once celebrated her arrival now felt unbearably hollow.
The funeral was quiet compared to the wedding, well because it’s a funeral. No flowers lining aisles in celebration, only white arrangements placed in mourning. No music filled with hope, only soft hymns heavy with grief.
Nathaniel stood near Sebastian, who looked older than his years. Grief had carved something into him that would never quite fade.
And then Nathaniel felt it, his familiar presence again.
Turning around, Nathaniel saw Rence standing near the back, same spot since the last time he saw him in church.
Five years had changed him. His features were sharper now, more defined, yet there was still a softness, a quiet boyishness that lingered beneath it all. But his eyes… those familiar, expressive brown eyes, wide and dark, were unchanged. They were fixed on Allison’s casket, steady and unwavering, carrying weight Nathan could almost feel from where he stood.
There were no visible tears this time. No trembling. Just stillness. The kind of stillness that comes after years of forcing yourself not to look back only to be confronted with what you lost forever.
The one he once loved. Allison.
He knew Rence had mourned her once in silence, at a wedding.
Now he was mourning her again, this time with no need to hide it…
As soon as Sebastian saw him, he walked straight over and pulled Rence into a tight embrace. Rence returned the hug just as firmly, as if the years of distance had never mattered. Time and separation had done nothing to erase the bond they once shared, brothers under the same roof, inseparable in their youth.
Sebastian’s grief over Allison’s passing was raw and visible, but he didn’t notice that Rence was carrying his own silent sorrow. Only Nathan could see it, the quiet, internal mourning that mirrored the heartbreak Sebastian wore on his sleeve.
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Sebastian was still deep in his mourning. It was painful to see him like this, always drunk, barely himself. Their parents had returned to the States to handle family business, leaving Nathan to manage the household. But he didn’t know how to handle Sebastian, how to reach him through the haze of grief and alcohol. And Nathaniel just can’t take it.
That’s when he turned to Rence.
“Rence…” Nathan began hesitantly, leaning against the doorway with his hands in his pockets, weighing whether to say it. “I… I need your help. Can you help me with Sebastian? He’s… he’s falling apart.”
Rence’s brow furrowed, skeptical. “I don’t know if that’s my place, Nate. Allison just died. Let him mourn in his own way.”
Nathan shook his head, stepping a little closer. “I know… but you know Sebastian. He won’t stop drinking. He won’t take care of himself. I need someone he trusts. Someone who knows him. I… Truth is I don’t know how else to reach him.”
Rence was silent for a moment, his eyes flicking toward Sebastian, slumping in the living room. Then his expression softened, just slightly.
”…You’re asking me to go back home,” he said quietly.
Nathan met his gaze. “Yes. Please. Just for a while. We need you.”
Rence exhaled slowly, as if the weight of the years and memories had caught up with him. “I’ll… I’ll file for a leave of absence this month.”
Nathan felt a surge of relief. “Thank you, Rence.”
Rence glanced toward Sebastian again, his expression unreadable but gentler now. “Im not promising anything, Nate. But let me see what I can do”
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The moment Rence returned, it felt like a piece of the past had slipped back into the present, except Sebastian looked shattered.
The man who had once been lively and composed now slouched in every chair with alcohol at hand, his eyes heavy and vacant, a shadow of the brother Nathan remembered.
Slowly, deliberately, Rence began to bring him back. He helped Sebastian stand, supported him during walks through the house, and even tended to the small, intimate things like shaving the stubble off his face, straightening his clothes, making sure he ate something more than just alcohol.
Nathan watched it all quietly, a strange mixture of relief and admiration settled over him. The way Rence cared for Sebastian wasn’t forced or performative. It was precise, gentle, patient. A quiet insistence that his brother needed someone, and he would be that someone, no questions asked.
One evening, Nathan noticed Sebastian picking up his guitar again. The first few strums were hesitant, awkward, but the chords soon began to flow naturally.
Nathan felt warmth spread through him. It was a small victory, after weeks of watching Sebastian crumble, it felt monumental. And through it all, Nathan and Rence began to spend time together again. Time that didn’t feel like duty or obligation - it felt… familiar. Even more familiar than when they had grown up under the same roof.
They had grown up under the same roof, most of their childhood spent in the same house. And yet, Nathan was still finding new things about Rence.
He had gone to call him for dinner, since the housekeeper was away. He knocked lightly on the door, then pushed it open when there was no answer.
Inside, the room was completely different from what he expected.
It looked like a small studio. Sketches and canvases were stacked along the walls in careful mess. There were charcoal drawings, watercolor pieces, acrylic paintings, some unfinished, some so detailed they almost looked real.
In the middle of it all was a neatly made bed.
Nathan’s steps faltered slightly as he took it all in.
“I never knew you painted,” he said softly, stepping further inside.
“Yeah,” Rence replied, reclining in his chair as if this were nothing, “it’s a hobby I kept up from high school through college. I don’t really draw anymore.” His voice sounded casual, but Nathan sensed something deeper, like a door slightly ajar that he wasn’t meant to open.
Nathan’s eyes were drawn to one canvas in particular.
It was a half-finished painting of a boy from behind, hunched over a guitar. The lines were raw but deliberate, every stroke heavy with intent. Even though the figure was faceless, Nathan could almost feel the presence of the boy. The posture, the way the hands clutched the instrument, the slant of the shoulders. It was vivid. It was alive. And it carried something unmistakable: feeling, deep and unguarded.
“Who’s that?” Nathan asked, unable to stop himself.
Rence turned sharply, eyes widening in a mixture of surprise and… something Nathan couldn’t name. His words came quickly, almost defensively. “No one. I just… draw whatever comes to mind, you know. Don’t… don’t think too much about it.” He shifted, glancing toward the door. “You said dinner’s ready? Are we going to eat?”
Nathan nodded slowly, choosing not to press further, though the painting lingered in his mind. The intensity behind Rence’s work, the care, the emotion, it was a side of him Nathan had never known. A private world he had only glimpsed now.
They walked to the dining room in silence, but the quiet was comfortable, not awkward.
Nathan noticed little things: the way Rence moved, careful but unhurried; the faint creases in his forehead when he thought; the subtle rhythm in the way he set the table for Sebastian. For all the years of distance between them, it felt like they had picked up exactly where they left off, only now, there was more respect, more understanding, more unspoken connection.
And somewhere in the back of Nathan’s mind, he realized that Rence’s return wasn’t just about helping Sebastian recover.
It was also a chance for Nathan to get to know him in a deeper level.
“I used to think you didn’t like me,” Rence said, breaking the quiet. They were sitting on the veranda of the mansion, the moonlight spilling across the polished floor and garden below, soft and silver.
He held a cup of chamomile tea, steam curling gently into the cool night air. Nathan had stocked the house with every brand he could find when Rence returned, something to make him feel at home, even in small comforts like this.
Sebastian was already asleep upstairs, exhausted after another long day slowly trying to manage the family business and the grief he carried. Rence had found Nathan alone on the veranda, sitting in his usual spot with a glass of brandy, the amber liquid catching the moonlight.
Nathan swirled the brandy slowly before taking a sip. “Why would you think that?” he asked, keeping his tone casual, though he already knew the answer.
Rence tilted his head slightly, a faint, wry smile tugging at his lips.
“You always looked at me like I was an eyesore,” he said softly. “And whenever I was with Sebastian, you’d… gawk at me. Like you were tormenting me on purpose.” A soft laugh followed, light but teasing.
Nathan leaned back in his chair. “You were intimidated by that? I was just a kid.” he teased. He could almost see himself as a kid again, eyes narrowed, cheeks puffed up. And stiff.
Rence laughed outright. “You looked like you were always constipated,” he shot back, the words punctuated with amusement.
Nathan laughed too, the sound mingling with the soft rustle of the trees and the distant hum of the night. “I also thought you didn’t like me,” he admitted, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.
His eyes straight on Rence’s small face.
Rence raised an eyebrow, a playful frown crossing his face. “Why would you think that?”
“You’d always stop talking whenever I came around,” Nathan explained. “And half the time, it looked like you were… afraid of me. Even when I didn’t do anything.”
Rence tilted his head, a smirk forming slowly. “Probably because you looked scary as a kid.”
Nathan chuckled, shaking his head, amused. “Scary?”
“Yeah,” Rence said, now grinning, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Short, angry, and constantly judging. Very terrifying little Nathan.”
“You’re shorter than me, though,” Nathan shot back playfully.
The tension, the old beef, the unspoken misunderstandings, it all felt a little softer now, like there is a bridge forming between them.
Rence took a sip of his tea, his gaze lingering on Nathan. “I didn’t know you could be this… relaxed,” he said.
Nathan shrugged, letting out a quiet chuckle. “I guess you have to let go of some things eventually,” he said with deeper meaning into it that Rence can’t quite catch, his voice low and calm. “Even if it takes years…”
That night, they sat together for a while longer, the moon above them and the soft hum of the night around them, sharing a silence that no longer felt heavy.
And it occurred to him that it had always been easier than he assumed. He should have reached out to Rence earlier, back when they were children instead of quietly resenting him all those years…
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The usual rhythm of their household had returned, but it wasn’t the same. A new atmosphere lingered in its place.
Sebastian was slowly finding himself again after Allison’s death—more present, more grounded. And with Rence around, Nathaniel noticed the air itself felt lighter, as if years of tension had finally begun to loosen their hold.
For Nathaniel, it felt almost surreal. Life with Rence was like stepping into an old memory and quietly rewriting it…
It was like being a kid again, only this time, he got to call the shots. He could tease Rence, poke fun at him, and Rence would fight back in kind. And fight back he did.
Sebastian would shake his head from across the room, muttering, “You two are ridiculous,” though the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement.
It was silly. It was chaotic. And yet, it felt like something heavy had been lifted from all of them. The grief, the tension, the years of quiet misunderstandings, they all seemed a little more manageable with laughter filling the space between them.
Nathan noticed small things that made him smile: the way Rence would roll his eyes dramatically when Nathan teased him, the way he would pretend to be offended but couldn’t hide the smirk tugging at his lips, the way he would flick water at Nathan from the sink just to start a playful chase.
Their rapport with each other was like a breath of fresh air. Nathan thought back to their younger years. The silent grudges, the awkward tension, the way Rence had once seemed intimidated by him. And now, it was completely different.
Rence no longer hesitated or pulled away. He fought back, laughed freely, and even sought Nathaniel out when he wanted company. It was a strange, almost wonderful reversal of roles—like Sebastian and Nathan had traded places with their childhood selves and rewritten the story, leaving Nathaniel and Rence as the ones who were close now.
Nathan couldn’t help but marvel at it. “You’ve changed,” he said one evening, breathless from laughter as Rence swatted him again for teasing him about a misplayed guitar chord.
Rence raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Yeah? And you’re still annoying.”
“Not anymore,” Nathan shot back, grinning too. “I’m… refined…”
Rence snorted. “Refined, huh? Sure, sure. You act like a kid around me now. You used to be more polite, now , you just do whatever you like to me. Define refined?”
Nathan smirked, internally collapsing, holding his stomach from stopping grinning. “Okay, okay, maybe not refined. But I’m sure you like this version of me, now. I don’t look scary anymore, right?” Poking Rence side and Rence would start laughing since he is ticklish.
The house was full of life again, full of noise, full of small victories and friendly battles between them, and sometimes Sebastian would join ,too.
Nathan had realized how much he had missed having Rence around despite of them having lack of openness towards each other.
He is glad it’s different now.
He caught Rence off guard one afternoon while they were in the living room. Nathan lunged, aiming for Rence’s sides, fingers digging in like he had been doing it for a long time already.
Rence yelped, spinning around to retaliate, fists landing softly on Nathan’s arms. “You think you can sneak up on me?!” he shouted, but a laughter bubbling from his chest.
“I just did, aren’t I?” Nathan said confidently, he is pretty sure he was grinning so wide with all of his teeth exposed. He couldn’t even care.
He dived forward again, only to have Rence push him back with surprising force and now they both stumbled on the floor with Rence below him.
Their faces where so close Nathan could make out the intricate patterns in Rence’s irises.
At this distance, every detail came into focus… The delicate sweep of Rence’s long eyelashes, the natural warmth blooming in his cheeks, the soft curve of his lips that Nathan found himself briefly fixated on, as if his thoughts had stalled there…
Rence was smiling at him.
An easy, luminous smile that made Nathan think, unbidden, that he looked like an angel. Or perhaps something less grounded than that - - an apparition, too beautiful and unreal to be lying there beneath him.
Nathan’s breath caught in his throat. To the point that he couldn’t move.
From the corner of the room, he heard footsteps approaching. Nathan quickly pushed himself upright, shifting to sit beside Rence, who was still sprawled on the floor.
“Why are you guys on the floor?” It was Sebastian, freshly home from work, staring down at them with raised brows.
“Your brother is bullying me, hyung,” Rence said pitifully, widening his eyes in an exaggerated plea for sympathy.
“Stop fighting, okay?” Sebastian sighed, walking over and offering Rence a hand.
Nathan knew Sebastian had always had a soft spot for Rence. He’d seen it a hundred times before. But watching it this close, seeing their hands clasp, seeing Sebastian pull him gently to his feet , made something in Nathan’s brain short-circuit.
A stray, unwelcome thought flickered through him:
It should be me.
He should be the one holding Rence’s hand.
But he brush the thoughts immediately and acted like nothing happened inside him.
That same evening, Nathan found himself in the kitchen, watching Rence meticulously clean up after dinner. He leaned casually against the counter, sipping his brandy, and decided to stir up some trouble.
“You know,” Nathan said, “you make a really bad chef.” It was a joke, ofcourse. Rence can cook so well. one of the few things that he just unlocked and a lot more.
Rence shot him a mock glare, continuing to wash the dishes. “And you make a really bad critic,” he shot back.
“Touché,” Nathan said, pretending to bow.
The playful teasing continued. They discovered more things about each other’s little quirks and habits that had been hidden or unnoticed during their years apart.
How Rence would loved arranging flowers , how his hands were always precise and careful.
While Nathan had a habit of humming under his breath when he was thinking, a soft, almost musical murmur that he couldn’t hide.
One afternoon, they ended up on the veranda, again. Each with a drink in hand. Nathan had a glass of brandy, Rence had chamomile tea, as always.
The air was warm, the breeze soft, carrying the scent of jasmine from the garden.
“You know,” Nathan began, grinning, “I never knew you were this good with your hands. Between painting, cooking, and now helping Sebastian, you’re basically a genius.”
Rence laughed, leaning back. “Don’t exaggerate. I’m competent, not a genius.”
“You’re basically an Angel,” Nathan teased, nudging him lightly he could feel the skin on Rence’s arms , how smooth they were against his own skin. “Nursing Sebastian and at the same time entertaining me? Hard to admit it but we’re lucky to have you around.”
“Patience,” Rence said with a smirk, eyes flicking toward Sebastian upstairs. “And long-suffering friends.”
Nathan gently smiled at that. “Well, lucky for you, Sebastian is excellent at suffering.”
Aside from the playful banters, there were Quiet moments too, when Nathan and Rence would sit on the veranda long after Sebastian had gone to bed.
They shared stories from childhood, memories that made them laugh and sometimes wince.
Rence learned that Nathan still remembered the little details about him, how he hated cilantro, how he always tapped his foot when he was nervous, how he had once tried to prank Sebastian with a fake spider.
The playful teasing slowly became a rhythm of its own, a dance of words, laughter, and small challenges.
Nathan realized that the silent conflict with Rence he had carried on for so many years had dissolved, replaced by something far more enjoyable: companionship, trust, and the joy of simply being around someone who started to know him. For real.
Nathan noticed how naturally Rence had slipped back into their lives. Again.
Sebastian laughed more, drank less, and even started talking about Allison in a way that felt lighter, less painful.
Nathan and Rence had built something new between a bond that wasn’t defined by contest on who’s better, awkwardness, or fear, but by shared moments, teasing, and genuine care.
And Nathan thought, quietly, as he watched Rence flick water at him during an impromptu kitchen “battle,” that life with Rence like this felt too good to be true.
Too good not to hold onto.
.
.
.
.
But life has a way of twisting itself when you least expect it. Just when it feels too good to be true, that’s often when the truth you’ve clung to all along shatters, revealing something far darker, far more complicated.
That night, Nathan was about to look for Rence since it’s dinner time already, he went into his room. It wasn’t in his nature to invade someone’s privacy, but in the days since Rence had returned, since they had grown closer, Nathan felt… emboldened.
He knocked once on the door. No answer. He paused, breath caught in his chest, then stepped inside. He’s pretty sure Rence wouldn’t mind.
The room smelled faintly of paint and Rence chamomile tea.
The younger boy must be sketching again since the paper pads and canvases filled every corner, stacked carefully, leaning against the walls in a messy but at the same time organized way.
The unfinished painting of the boy with the guitar, the one Nathan had seen before, was not there, though.
His eyes drifted over the other artworks, lingering on brushstrokes and sketches he hadn’t noticed before.
A stack of sketchbooks lay beside Rence’s bed. Some were old, edges yellowed, fragile like relics from another era. Nathan tripped slightly over a book and cursed under his breath, then frozen.
One of the sketchpads he had accidentally fallen onto lay open.
A familiar face stared back at him from the page -- but Nathan wasn’t certain yet, not until he was closer.
He crouched slowly, heart stammering in his chest, his hands trembling just slightly as he leaned in.
Carefully and cautiously, he began to turn the pages.
Each sketch revealed more, and with every shift of paper…
The more his heart pounded harder.
In Every page. In Every sketch.
It was the same boy.
The same features. Different expressions. And in some of them, the boy wasn’t even looking, like he had been drawn secretly, unknowingly, with the artist capturing him in discreet.
He heard a familiar footstep, soft but deliberate entering the same room he was in.
“Nate… you were looking for me?” Rence’s voice was calm, he hasn’t seen the sketchpad that Nathan was holding.
Nathan stood, clutching the old sketchbook, his hand tight around it.
He stared at Rence, and for the first time after a long time, the air between them felt heavy with more than just tension. Pain, betrayal, and disbelief hung in the room like smoke.
“All this time… it wasn’t Allison…,” Nathan said, his voice low, rough, sounded broken.
Rence froze, confusion flashing across his face. “What do you mean?” His eyes flicked to Nathan’s hands, to the sketchbook, and back again. “Nathan, it’s not what you’re thinking—”
Nathan shook his head, the weight of realization pressing down on him like an old film rolling.
“The unfinished painting… it was Sebastian… It was him… It was him all along.”
Nathan couldn’t stop the accusation that slipped even in his gaze, and it flared there before he could mask it, it was sharp, then raw, and unguarded.
A dull ache spread through Nathan’s chest, tightening with every second he remained there, staring at the boy he had only just begun to feel something soft for.
He didn’t understand why it hurt so much. Only that it did—and Nathan knew he wouldn’t understand why.
Rence’s face had gone pale. His lips parted slightly, as if he meant to speak but no words came. Whatever he had been about to say dissolved before it could reach the air between them.
The room felt smaller all of a sudden, the walls pressing in. The scattered sketches around them seemed almost accusatory now, like silent witnesses to something neither of them could turn away from.
And in that suffocating quiet, Nathan realized how much had been hidden all along.
How deeply Rence had felt.
How carefully the boy in front of him had tucked it away behind gentle smiles, light teasing, and those wide, seemingly innocent eyes…
All his life, Nathan had thought he understood him.
He hadn’t. Not even close.
Because now, the truth was there between them. Laid bare, and impossible to unsee…
**********