Yuri cracked open the old door, revealing the dusty remains of what was once his home. For the next few days, this place would be his project—cleaning, clearing, varnishing.
With a sigh, he set his bags down beside the worn mini chair by the crusty door. As he stepped inside, a cloud of dust stirred, some of it catching on his long lashes. The table before him was rusted with age, yet it stood like a relic of laughter and shared meals—memories etched deep into the grain of the wood.
He moved through the house, trailing his fingers along the kitchen counter, still remembering how his mother used to rush around, leaving tiny drops of food behind in her hurry to feed her children.
In his brother's room, he paused and smiled. It still felt like just yesterday they were wrestling over the last piece of cake, controllers in hand, video games flashing on the screen.
The narrow hallway echoed with the past too, not just in fading footprints but in the faded scribbles drawn by his sister's small fingers.
And as he walked on, he smiled through the tears—grief and warmth interwoven, held in every corner of the home that once held them all.
Yuri pushed open the creaky door to what used to be his parents' bedroom. The air inside was thick, unmoved for years, yet somehow still carrying the faintest scent of his father's cologne. The bedsheets were wrinkled and pale with time, the pillows sunken in as if waiting for someone to come back and rest their head.
He walked to the nightstand and opened the drawer slowly. Inside lay a cracked photo frame—their family portrait. Everyone smiling, arms around one another. His fingers brushed the dusty glass as a lump formed in his throat.
He wandered next into the tiny storage room. Cardboard boxes were stacked haphazardly, some half-opened, revealing old toys, school books, holiday decorations tangled in tinsel. He knelt by a box marked "Yuri – Grade 3" and opened it with trembling hands. Inside was a mess of crayon drawings, spelling tests with stars, and a paper-mâché volcano with a chip missing from the top. He chuckled softly. "I worked so hard on this," he muttered to no one.
He moved on.
The bathroom light flickered when he switched it on. The mirror was spotted and stained, but still reflected a face far older than he remembered. He stared at himself for a long time, before looking down at the sink—still stained with toothpaste trails from chaotic school mornings.
Finally, he reached the backyard. The door groaned as he pushed it open, letting warm light flood into the house for the first time in years. The garden was overgrown, wildflowers and weeds tangled together like a secret waiting to be found. The swing set still stood, one swing slightly tilted, creaking in the breeze.
He stepped outside, letting the sun warm his skin.But the overgrown garden, tangled with vines and silence, blurred before his eyes—Replaced by the memory of flames.Fire that once devoured more than just wood and walls.It had swallowed his hopes, his happiness, his family… his entire life.
He went back in, he sighed as hi proceeded to unpack his stuff and place it on the table, while he was unpacking, he heard a small know. Was there still people who cared about whether this cracked door was opened?
He hopelessly went to the door, cracking it open once more.
He couldn't even react, before a pile of 3 bags were dropped on the floor, "So....where's my room?", Jade smiled through the awkward surprise. He didn't wait for an answer before helping himself in to the, now not so empty, house.
"Calm place yeah?", he turned around to Yu-ri, who clearly was unsatisfied by his entry, "what?", Jade asked sheepishly, "Not happy?", Jade walks closer to Yuri, who is now completely cleared from the memories, but instead filled with annoyance.
Yuri didn't tell him to leave.He could've. Should've.But the truth was—he didn't want to be alone.Not here.Not in this house that had never been empty before.
"So, where do I sleep, exactly?" Jade asked, his voice laced with deliberate irritation.
"On the floor," Yuri replied flatly, still unpacking.
He moved with quiet precision, tucking his belongings into empty boxes he'd pulled from the attic. His motions were mechanical—fold, close, lift. No noise, no emotion. Just movement.
Jade watched him for a beat longer than necessary, noting the careful way Yuri placed the filled boxes on the shelf, like even now he was afraid to disturb anything in the house.
"You really want your partner to sleep on the floor?" Jade stood up from the dusty chair, brushing off his black shirt with exaggerated flair. As he walked toward Yuri, something about the way the shadows clung to him made Yuri pause.
He never really noticed how well black suited Jade.
Not that it mattered.
Yuri turned away, expression unreadable, now that all the boxes were stacked neatly and tucked away. He leaned against the shelf, arms crossed, bracing himself for whatever nonsense was about to come out of Jade's mouth.
Jade moved without warning, effortlessly pinning Yuri between his arms—hands planted on either side of the shelf behind him.
Yuri turned, instinctive and sharp, only to come face to face with him.A little too close.A little too warm.
Jade stood slightly taller, his frame broad, his chest rising and falling with the heat of the day. The black shirt clung to his body, damp with sweat, the fabric hugging every line of muscle—especially the abs now visible beneath the thin cotton.
Yuri's gaze faltered for a second—just a second. But that was enough.He caught the shape.The definition.The burn along his cheekbones wasn't from the summer air.
Still, he kept his face blank, voice steady. "Move."
Jade smirked, just barely. "Why? Uncomfortable?"
Yuri's eyes narrowed. "Annoyed."
"Same thing, with you."
He didn't move. Neither did Yuri. The air between them hung thick—something unsaid simmering in the space where irritation met something heavier. Something dangerous.
Yuri didn't drop his guard.
But he didn't break the stare, either.
Jade leaned in, closing the space between them. Both were damp with sweat now, skin shining in the dim light, the heat clinging to their clothes—and their silence.
"You reek of wet socks," Yuri said flatly.
Jade scoffed. "Really? You will too, soon enough~"
His grin widened as he dipped closer, his face hovering near Yuri's neck, breath warm against his skin. But just before the touch—he stopped.
Something shifted.
He turned his face back toward Yuri, their eyes meeting again in the thick air. That teasing smile softened—faded into something quieter. Something more real. Hopeless, almost.
He already knew what kind of wall Yuri would put up.Already knew how he'd push him away.How he'd stop him before he got too close—too in love.
"So," Jade asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with something more careful, "why're you really here?"
He tilted his head slightly, sharp features suddenly looking softer under the weight of the question.
Yuri didn't answer right away.
He held the stare—but somewhere behind the blank expression, something flickered.Why did he stop?He'd felt it—that warmth hovering near his skin.And for just a second, a part of him… had wanted it.To feel loved again.In this house that used to be home, but no longer was.
There was no answer.
Just silence.
A sharp, tense moment hung between them—Yuri still trapped between Jade's arms, the space impossibly close, the air impossibly thick. Something was pressing down on him from the inside out, like a storm swelling in his chest.
The pressure built. He could feel it in his heart. His throat. His fingertips.
"Aren't you gonna—"
Jade didn't get to finish.
Soft lips met his. Brief. Sudden. Real.
He froze.
Yuri's hands—gentle, shaking—slipped around his neck. His touch was featherlight, uncertain, as if he wasn't even sure it was happening.
It happened so fast, Jade couldn't process it in time.Yuri's lips—soft, unsure—touched his.And then… they were gone.
Yuri pulled back abruptly, eyes wide with the weight of what he'd just done, hands retreating from Jade's neck like they were on fire."Fuck—I…"His voice cracked as he looked away, eyes searching the floor, chest rising with uneven breaths.
Why did he do it?
Jade didn't answer.He didn't need to.
Instead, he dropped his arms from the shelf and grabbed Yuri by the waist—sharp, deliberate, holding him there.
Yuri's breath caught.
Jade didn't wait for permission.He lifted a hand to the back of Yuri's neck, fingers threading through sweat-damp strands of hair, and gently forced him to look up.
Then—he kissed him.
Slower than Yuri had. Deeper. No hesitation.
His lips moved with purpose, his hand guiding Yuri in, drawing him closer until there was no space left between them.
Yuri didn't pull away.Didn't resist.He melted into it—his hands gripping the fabric of Jade's shirt, his breath shuddering into the kiss.
Jade bit down on his bottom lip—just enough. Just enough to make Yuri gasp.
And that was all he needed.
His tongue slipped in, tasting, exploring. Demanding.
Yuri's knees buckled slightly, a soft moan escaping his throat and slipping into the thick, heated air of the room. His fingers clutched tighter, dragging Jade closer still, like if he let go now, everything would fall apart again.
The world was gone.There was only this.Heat. Breath. Lips
To Be Continued... ...