Chapter Text
1. Mack
If you had asked Mack at the beginning of the year if he would be attending the same college as his older brother Aiden, he probably would have laughed in your face.
Actually, he knew he would've laughed.
For years the plan had always been different.
Aiden had spent all of high school bragging to everyone that he was gonna go to Boston College because it was one of the best hockey programs in the country.
While Mack had spent most of high school insisting he wanted to go somewhere farther away where he could finally be his own person instead of "Aiden's little brother."
Every college list he'd made featured schools scattered across the country. California. Arizona. Florida. Anywhere that didn't spend six months buried under snow.
He'd wanted independence.
Distance.
A chance to build a life that belonged entirely to him.
And yet
Life had a funny way of ruining plans.
Now he stood in the doorway of a cramped dorm room that would be home for the next nine months, one hand wrapped around the strap of his duffel bag while he silently judged every square inch of the place.
His first impression?
Terrible.
The room was smaller than the brochure had made it look. Much smaller.
There was only one narrow window tucked into the far wall, and the late afternoon sunlight barely reached the opposite side of the room. Instead of feeling bright and welcoming, the space felt dim, almost cave-like, like someone had forgotten to turn the lights on.
His bed looked even worse.
One glance at the mattress revealed a suspicious yellow stain near the foot of it.
"Absolutely not," he muttered under his breath.
He was buying a mattress topper before the day was over.
Maybe two.
His closet wasn't any better.
The wooden door hung slightly crooked, and when he pulled it open it let out a long, dramatic creak that sounded like it belonged in a haunted house.
"Perfect," he sighed.
"I'm living in a horror movie."
Then there was the smell.
God.
The smell.
It hit him the second he'd walked through the door.
Stale potato chips.
Sweat.
Cheap body spray desperately trying, and failing, to cover months of body odor.
Something vaguely damp.
And underneath all of it
Unwashed hockey gear.
No doubt the smell of every athlete on this campus.
He wrinkled his nose.
"Whoever lived here before me needs to be investigated."
But despite everything this was exactly where he needed to be.
Because this room represented something he hadn't felt in months.
A fresh start.
Looking back now, he was almost grateful he'd chosen Boston College.
Almost.
If someone had asked him in June why he'd committed there, he would've thrown out some half ass answers about the writing program, campus life, and being close to Aiden.
But none of that would've been the real reason.
The real reason had been much simpler.
He needed to leave.
He had spent almost his entire summer thinking about a stupid hookup that happened at the end of a school party he threw in May.
It was stupid, that much he knew.
He should still be upset about Charlie and how he cheated on him and then dumped him.
But once he spent a night with this guy he immediately seemed to get over Charlie.
Because now instead of Charlie occupying his every thought, he couldn’t stop thinking about him.
His short blonde curls.
His small dimpled when he smiled.
The cross that laid on his chest.
He decided that in order to get over this guy he needed to get under another one.
And college parties existed for a reason.
He was hoping to find a distraction tonight as long as the guy wasn’t an athlete.
After Charlie, Mack had decided that he was completely done with any kind of athlete, and it didn't matter what sport they played.
"Okay, Mackie." Aiden's voice pulled him back to reality.
"I think that's the last of it."
Mack turned just in time to watch his older brother drop two duffel bags onto the floor with a dramatic grunt.
"You own entirely too many clothes."
"I like options."
"You packed six pairs of white sneakers."
"They're different."
"They're identical."
"They're emotionally different."
Aiden rolled his eyes so dramatically that Mack couldn't help smiling.
"There he is."
"What?"
"I've been waiting for that smile."
Mack blinked.
"I've been smiling."
"No."
Aiden walked over, draping an arm across his shoulders with practiced ease.
"You've been pretending."
There it was again.
That annoying older brother's ability to see straight through him.
Mack leaned instinctively into the side hug.
He hadn't realized how tense he'd been until Aiden's weight settled against him.
The familiar gesture grounded him.
The brothers stood quietly in the middle of the room.
Neither of them spoke.
They simply looked around at the tiny dorm, silently imagining what it would become over the next year.
Eventually footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Their parents.
"Ten bucks," Aiden said, finally breaking the silence.
"Mom cries before she leaves."
Mack laughed.
"I don't think she will."
"Oh?"
"She didn't cry when you moved in."
"That's because I'm not the favorite."
Mack laughed at that.
Aiden wandered toward the bathroom, immediately making a face.
"Ew."
"What?"
"The shower curtain has stains."
"I don't want to know."
"I think I just got an athlete's foot by looking at it."
Mack laughed harder.
Aiden pointed toward him triumphantly.
"See? Worth it."
Then he shrugged.
"Seriously though...what's Mom supposed to do without you?"
Mack tilted his head.
"What do you mean?"
"Who's going to watch Gilmore Girls with her?"
Mack smiled.
"Fair."
"And who's going to listen to three hours of spa gossip every Friday?"
"Also fair."
"Poor woman."
Despite Aiden's constant teasing, everyone in their family knew there was some truth behind it.
Mack absolutely was their mom's favorite.
Not that she'd ever admit it.
She insisted she loved both her sons equally.
Which she did.
She just connected with Mack a little differently.
Some of Mack's favorite memories growing up had nothing to do with birthdays or vacations.
They were ordinary Tuesday nights.
The two of them curled up on opposite ends of the couch with bowls of popcorn balanced on their laps.
Watching Gilmore Girls for what had to be the fifteenth time.
Mack knew almost every line by heart.
He had strong opinions about every boyfriend Rory ever dated.
He could spend twenty minutes explaining why Lorelai deserved better.
His friends would've teased him relentlessly if they'd known.
He didn't care.
Those nights belonged to him and his mom.
The same went for the endless workplace gossip.
His mom worked as an aesthetician at a spa, and somehow every single week one of her coworkers managed to create enough drama to fuel an entire reality television season.
Someone was secretly dating someone else's ex.
Someone got caught lying about tips.
Someone quit dramatically halfway through a shift.
Someone else came back three days later pretending nothing had happened.
Mack lived for those stories.
He'd ask questions.
Offer wildly exaggerated theories.
Sometimes even predict what would happen next.
His mom claimed he was nosier than she was.
He claimed he was simply invested.
Truthfully
She was his best friend.
He had never admitted that out loud.
Not to Aiden.
Not to his friends.
Never to Charlie
Not even to her.
But it was true.
She had been the first person who made him believe he never had to earn love by pretending to be someone else.
Growing up, there were never rules about who Mack was allowed to be.
When he was five, he wanted to paint his fingernails because he thought the colors looked cool.
His mom bought him nail polish.
When he spent an entire summer wearing princess costumes because they had better capes than superhero outfits, she took pictures instead of telling him to change.
When he wanted to learn how makeup worked, she sat him on the bathroom counter and showed him how to blend eyeshadow instead of asking why.
She never once said,
"That's for girls."
She simply asked,
"Do you want the blue one or the green one?"
Looking back, Mack realized how rare that kind of childhood really was.
So many of his friends had grown up learning there were "boy things" and "girl things."
His mom had simply taught him there were...
Things.
Some he'd like.
Some he wouldn't.
And that was okay.
She gave him room to figure himself out without deciding who he was supposed to become.
By the time he realized he was gay, telling her almost felt inevitable.
Because if anyone in the world had earned the right to hear that part of him first.
It was her.
—--------------------------------------------------------------
The house was unusually quiet. Too quiet for what Mack was about to do.
The clock above the stove read 9:07 p.m. It was late enough that everything felt calmer, slower. Aiden was fast asleep upstairs, and his dad was staying late at the shop to finish up working on a car for a family friend.
Mack has been standing in the hallway for nearly five minutes.
His hands wouldn't stop shaking and his breath wouldn’t stop wavering.
He'd rehearsed this conversation hundreds of times. In the shower. Before falling asleep. During math class. Walking home from school. Every version sounded different in his head.
Deep down he knew his mom would accept him.
His mom encouraged Aiden to cry after he lost big hockey games. His mom practiced her new facial recipes on his dad. Her mom used to let Mack borrow her makeup and clothes.
He knew that she would accept him but there was still a lingering what if.
He walked towards his mom who was sitting at the kitchen table. She was reading a book on her kindle and drinking a cup of the herbal blend tea she drank every night.
She looked up when she noticed him.
"Hey, Macky.”
He froze.
"You okay?"
He took a second and then answered, "yeah."
She smiled. "You've been standing there for a while."
"I know."
"Can’t sleep? I can make you a cup of tea"
"Can I talk to you?"
Her expression changed instantly but not to a frightened one just one to let him know she was listening.
"Of course." She set her Kindle down.
"Come here baby.”
He walked towards his mom and sat across from her.
She waited. She had always been good at waiting. No rushing. No filling awkward silences. Just pure patience and attention. In a house filled with chaos she was the grounding force.
"So..." he started.
"There's something I wanna tell you. It’s nothing bad per se."
She nodded gently. "Okay, take your time."
His throat tightened and he looked down at the table. Suddenly the room felt too small and his shirt felt too tight.
"I don't know how."
"That's okay."
“I don't want you to think differently about me."
That made her sit up a little straighter and look him right in the eyes.
"Macky."
He looked away. He didn’t trust himself to look at her without crying.
"Look at me when I say this. There is nothing you could tell me that would make me stop loving you.”
This made his body feel a bit lighter and his brain feel a bit quieter.
He wasn’t sure how long had passed and how many tears had slipped from his eyes before he finally said the words.
"I’m gay.”
The words were barely louder than a whisper.
Once they were out they couldn't go back in.
He stared at the table. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed until he heard the chair move.
His mother walked around the table.
"Mack?"
He still couldn't look up.
Then he felt her hand rest gently on his shoulder.
"Sweetheart."
Her expression was something he has only seen a few times before. It was anger, disgust or sadness. It was disappointing but not for him.
"Oh, honey."
His lip trembled.
"You thought this would change how I feel about you?."
He nodded slowly.
She knelt beside his chair.
"Macklin, I need you to hear me loud and clear."
He sniffled.
"You are my son. I grew you in my body and I have raised you for fourteen years. You are stubborn, you are kind, and you are so smart. But most importantly you have always been unapologetically yourself. You have always accepted everything about yourself and you’ve had no shame.”
Mack hadn’t noticed but she had begun to cry. But instead of stopping she took a deep breath and continued.
“Do you remember when you were ten years old and you saw a video of a pig being tortured at a farm? After this you told us you were going to be a vegetarian for the rest of your life and you would never eat an animal again. Your father and Aiden laughed at you but you didn’t budge. You stayed vegetarian for over six months. You only quit after realizing you couldn’t eat turkey at Thanksgiving dinner, but that’s besides the point. At ten years old you stood strong in your beliefs and you didn’t let anyone shame you for it. This has always been my favorite trait about you. As a mother it makes me so proud to watch you grow into yourself and understand yourself even more as the years go on. You’ve always been so sure of who you are.”
“Did you know?” Mack wasn’t sure of the answer he wanted. Was it better if she already knew or she had no idea.
“I knew that you were a little different than your dad and brother. I knew that when you were younger and saw two men holding hands walking down the street you asked if that was okay. I knew that you used to love rewatching How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days because you loved Matthew Mcconaughey acting in it.”
That got a small laugh out of him.
“I might have had my suspicions but I didn’t wanna assume anything or label you just because you liked to express yourself in a different way.”
His shoulders finally gave out.
Months
Maybe even years of fear poured out all at once.
He started crying so hard he couldn't speak.
"I'm sorry."
She frowned immediately.
"For what?"
"I should've told you sooner."
"No. You only tell me something when you are ready. Not because you think you should or you have to.”
"I was lying."
"You were figuring yourself out. Don’t ever apologize for that.
She wrapped him in a hug. A kind of all consuming hug.
He felt safe. For maybe the first time in his life, he felt understood.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed in the kitchen hugging for but he knew that when he went to sleep that night his heart felt lighter.
—-----------------------------------------------------------
So yeah he was his mothers favorite but Aiden had no reason to be upset about this because he was clearly their father's favorite.
He was the embodiment of a father's dream son. The star hockey player, dated all the popular girls in school, and would always do what their father asked whether it was going to the gym with him, running errands, or helping him fix a car for his shop.
Aiden would drop whatever he was doing because he deeply craved his fathers approval which wasn't always easy to obtain, that Mack knew about.
Mack didn't envy him in the slightest because he knew the pressure Aiden faced. He knew that there were nights in high school when Aiden would come into his room and lay in his bed to vent to him about how lost he felt. He loved hockey but the more pressure that was put on him he felt himself pulling away from the sport. He would always confide in Mack because he knew Mack would never tell anyone about his thoughts or judge him.
Mack didn't envy him in the slightest because he knew better than anyone the pressure Aiden lived under every day. From the outside, everyone saw the kid who seemed destined for the NHL.
The one coaches praised, teammates envied and scouts followed.
They saw the talent, the determination, the awards, the trophies, and the headlines.
What they didn't see was the weight of everyone's expectations sitting on Aiden's shoulders every time he stepped onto the ice. Mack had seen it all firsthand. He remembered countless nights during high school when Aiden would quietly knock on his bedroom door long after everyone else had gone to sleep.
Sometimes he wouldn't even say anything at first, he'd just crawl into the empty side of Mack's bed and stare at the ceiling for several minutes before finally letting everything spill out.
He'd talk about how trapped he felt, how every game felt less like something he loved and more like a test he couldn't afford to fail. Hockey had once been the place where he felt happy, but the older he got the more the enjoyment disappeared.
Every tournament, every practice, every shift became another opportunity for someone to evaluate him, criticize him, or expect even more. He loved the game but sometimes it felt like the game didn't belong to him anymore.
It belonged to the scouts, the coaches, the media, but most importantly his father who had already mapped out his future before he'd had the chance to decide what he wanted for himself.
These were conversations he only trusted Mack with. He never had to pretend everything was okay around his younger brother.
Mack never judged him for admitting that sometimes he didn’t think he wanted to play hockey anymore. Mack always reminded his brother that before anything he was a person and he was allowed to feel overwhelmed sometimes. He was allowed to doubt himself and contemplate his future. It didn’t make him a bad player or a bad son or a bad teammate.
This was why Aiden always ended up in Mack's room on the hardest nights. No matter how overwhelming the pressure became, Mack was there. He was the anchor that pulled Aiden back to shore every time.
They took care of each other like this. He would never forget how Aiden was there for him when he got his heart broken junior year.
—----------------------------------------------
Mack had been dating this guy named Charlie for over a year.
Charlie was the quarterback of their school's football team.
He was the kind of person who could walk into a room and somehow become the center of it without even trying.
It wasn't hard to understand how Mack had fallen so hard for him.
Charlie laughed too hard at terrible jokes, stole Mack's hoodies because they "smelled better," and traced lazy circles on Mack’s back whenever they were alone. Mack loved everything about him.
But loving Charlie also meant loving someone who insisted their relationship stay hidden.
It wasn't as though Charlie ignored him at school.
They ate lunch together with friends, studied together in the library, spent weekends at bonfires, and nobody questioned why they were always around each other.
To everyone else, they were just two close friends who happened to spend an unusual amount of time together.
Only they knew about the lingering glances across crowded rooms, the accidental brushes of their hands beneath restaurant tables, or the way Charlie would find excuses to text Mack every few minutes whenever they were apart.
Still, there was an invisible line neither of them was allowed to cross.
If Charlie threw the winning touchdown on Friday night, Mack couldn't run onto the field and throw his arms around him the way girlfriends did with their boyfriends.
He couldn't kiss Charlie on the cheek when he was excited or wrap him in a hug after a tough loss.
If Charlie had a bad day, Mack had to settle for asking if he was okay from across the hallway instead of reaching for his hand.
Every instinct he had to love Charlie openly had to be swallowed before anyone could notice.
He never complained, not out loud, anyway.
Because somewhere deep beneath Charlie's carefully crafted image was a boy who was terrified of what his father would think of the real him.
This hurt more than he would ever admit.
Not because Charlie didn't love him.
Mack never questioned that.
But he questioned whether Charlie would ever be able to love him out loud. And if he did what that would even look like.
Yet despite all of that, he stayed.
Because when the crowds disappeared, when the Friday night lights shut off and the uniforms were stuffed into lockers, Charlie always found his way to Mack. Some nights he'd climb through Mack's bedroom window with a backpack slung over one shoulder, grinning like he was getting away with something. Other nights he'd quietly knock on the front door after everyone else had gone to sleep. The moment the bedroom door closed behind them, the distance Charlie kept during the day disappeared completely.
He'd collapse onto Mack's bed with a tired sigh, immediately reaching for him like it was second nature. He'd steal the blankets, complain about practice, bury his face in Mack's shoulder, and kiss him like he'd been waiting all day to do it. In those quiet hours, there were just two boys who loved each other.
Those moments convinced Mack that the waiting would be worth it.
He told himself Charlie just needed more time. Time to figure himself out. Time to feel safe. Time to become brave enough to hold Mack’s hand in public.
He clung to that future with everything he had.
Because if he let himself believe otherwise, then he'd have to admit how lonely he constantly felt.
And so he waited.
For a year he accepted apologies that came far too often and convinced himself that love required patience and sacrifice.
He was hell-bent on making the relationship work because, to him, Charlie was worth fighting for. He loved him enough to carry the secret, enough to silence his own hurt if it meant Charlie felt safe, enough to believe that someday things would finally change.
Which was exactly why Charlie's betrayal hurt so much.
It wasn't just that he'd ruined their relationship.
He'd shattered every promise Mack had quietly made to himself about why keeping the secret had been worth it in the first place.
Mack had spent over a year convincing himself that Charlie loved him enough to come out one day. What a waste of time that was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It happened early in his junior year, at Charlie's annual back-to-school party.
Charlie loved throwing parties. His parents were the kind who believed that if teenagers were going to drink, they'd rather they did it under their roof than somewhere unsafe, so every August their house became the unofficial gathering place for half the school. There would be music shaking the walls, football players taking over the basement, girls dancing in the kitchen, and people spilling onto the back deck well into the early morning.
Mack loved those parties for an entirely different reason.
Mack knew that at some point during the night Charlie would catch his eye from across the room. Sometimes it was a tiny nod toward the staircase. Sometimes Charlie would brush past him and quietly mutter, "Five minutes."
Then Mack would wait.
Five minutes later he'd slip upstairs, close Charlie's bedroom door behind him, and for twenty or thirty minutes the rest of the world simply ceased to exist.
Downstairs, everyone would continue laughing, drinking, yelling over the music, completely oblivious to what was happening above their heads.
Those stolen moments were the closest thing Mack had to a normal relationship.
Afterward Charlie would grin, fix his hair in the mirror, kiss Mack one last time before unlocking the bedroom door, and they'd head downstairs separately like nothing had happened. Mack would spend the rest of the night floating. Even if he couldn't hold Charlie's hand in front of everyone, those moments convinced him they were real.
That Charlie really loved him.
So when one o'clock came and went
Then one-thirty
Then nearly two
Mack started to wonder what was going on.
He hadn't seen Charlie in almost half an hour.
No text.
No secret glance.
No whispered invitation upstairs.
It was unusual enough that a knot began forming in his stomach.
Eventually he told himself Charlie was probably just hiding in his room for a few minutes to escape everyone. Parties could be exhausting when you were expected to entertain two hundred people.
Besides, Charlie had always told him, "If you ever can't find me, just come upstairs."
So Mack did.
He climbed the staircase, weaving around people sitting on the steps and laughing loudly. The farther he got from the party, the quieter everything became. The music faded into muffled bass vibrating through the walls.
He reached Charlie's bedroom door.
Then he froze.
A sound came from the other side.
A girl's moan.
High-pitched.
Unmistakable.
His eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
His first thought wasn't that Charlie was cheating.
It didn't even cross his mind really.
Instead he felt irritated.
Seriously?
Some random couple had decided to hook up in Charlie's room?
Everyone knew the bedrooms were supposed to be off-limits.
Charlie would be furious.
Mack grabbed the doorknob.
Without thinking, he shoved the door open.
His entire world stopped.
Charlie was standing beside the bed, one hand gripping a blonde girl's hip.
The girl was bent over Charlie's mattress.
Charlie looked exactly the way he had looked with Mack dozens of times before.
The same bed.
The same room.
The same comforter.
The same Patriots blanket Mack had bought him for his seventeenth birthday, only two months ago, folded at the end of the mattress.
For one impossible second, Mack genuinely couldn't process what he was seeing.
His brain refused.
This couldn't be Charlie.
His Charlie.
This couldn't be happening.
Charlie heard the door slam open and immediately looked toward it.
The color drained from his face.
His expression shifted in an instant, from concentration to absolute horror.
"Mack"
The girl's head snapped up in confusion.
Charlie let go of her so suddenly that she stumbled forward onto the mattress.
"Ow! What the hell, Charlie?"
She looked toward the doorway.
Her expression immediately twisted into annoyance.
"Ew, what are you doing?" she snapped, pulling the blanket around herself. "Get out, you creep."
Mack barely heard her.
His eyes stayed fixed on the blanket.
The Patriots blanket.
He remembered saving money from his summer job to buy it.
Remembered Charlie smiling when he opened it.
Remembered Charlie saying he'd never use another blanket because this one came from Mack.
Now someone else was wrapped in it.
The realization made him feel physically sick.
"Olivia," Charlie said quietly, never taking his eyes off Mack.
"Get dressed."
"What?"
"Please."
She stared at him.
"Seriously?"
"Go."
"What is wrong with you?"
Charlie didn't answer.
Olivia huffed dramatically as she gathered her clothes.
"I can't believe you're kicking me out because one of your stupid friends needs something," she muttered while pulling on her shirt.
She laughed bitterly.
"What? Does he want to talk about football?"
No one answered. She seemed to remain oblivious to the tension between the two boys.
"You'll regret this in five minutes."
She stormed toward the door, shoving past Mack's shoulder as she left.
The bedroom door clicked shut.
Silence.
The kind that presses against your ears until it hurts.
The kind that is so loud it feels like you're drowning.
Mack stood completely still.
Charlie slowly pulled on a pair of sweatpants before finally looking up.
Neither of them spoke.
Mack didn't even know what question to ask first.
Why?
Who was she?
How long?
Was any of it real?
Charlie answered a question Mack hadn't managed to voice.
"She's my girlfriend."
The words hit harder than anything Mack had seen behind that door.
"My parents..." Charlie swallowed. "They want us together."
Mack blinked.
"I met her at church last month."
He scoffed out loud at this. Like anything that he just walked in on was holy.
Charlie rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry, Mack."
The apology sounded rehearsed.
Like Charlie had practiced saying it long before tonight.
And in a way he had. He had heard Charlie use these words over and over again. But never for something this serious. Something words could not fix.
Mack began to let his tears slip past his eyes. Charlie took notice of this.
"Macky baby please don’t cry. You know this was never going to work long-term. We both knew that.
No.
Mack hadn't known that.
Mack thought the opposite in fact. He spent the last year trying to make this work because he thought Charlie was his future.
Mack opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He had always been the talkative one.
The kid who could fill any silence.
Now he couldn't find a single word.
"I have to go."
Charlie didn't stop him.
That might have hurt him more than the act itself.
He has expected Charlie to be inconsolable with guilt.
Throwing out every apology he could think of.
But no.
He didn't reach for him.
Didn't apologize again.
Didn't even say his name.
Mack walked downstairs in a daze.
The party was exactly the same as when he'd gone upstairs.
Someone was laughing.
Someone else was arguing over beer pong.
Music blasted through the speakers.
People bumped into him without noticing the tears collecting in his eyes.
No one had any idea that his entire life had just fallen apart upstairs.
Part of him kept waiting.
Waiting to hear Charlie running down the stairs behind him.
Waiting for him to grab his wrist.
Waiting for him to shout, "Forget her."
Waiting for Charlie to kiss him right there in front of everyone and finally choose him.
It never happened.
Charlie stayed upstairs.
Then, a few minutes later, he came back down wearing a clean shirt, smiling at guests, acting like he'd simply taken a break from hosting.
Like nothing had even happened.
For the first time that night he felt anger.
He didn’t understand how Charlie could be so calm while Mack felt like his heart had been ripped in half and stomped on right in front of him.
Mack drove home on autopilot.
He couldn't remember a single traffic light.
Couldn't remember turning onto his street.
Couldn't remember parking.
The next thing he knew he was standing outside Aiden's bedroom.
Knocking.
Aiden had been grounded all week after their parents caught him smoking weed behind the garage, so he'd missed the party entirely.
He opened the door wearing sweatpants and an old hockey hoodie.
One look at Mack's face was enough.
"What happened?"
Mack tried to answer.
But words felt too hard.
He burst into tears.
Aiden didn't ask another question.
He simply stepped forward and wrapped both arms around his little brother.
The hug was so tight it almost hurt.
Mack clung to him like he was drowning.
Aiden guided him to the bed, pulled the blankets over both of them, and let Mack cry for what felt like hours.
He didn't pressure him to explain.
Didn't interrupt.
Didn't tell him everything would be okay.
He just stayed there, rubbing slow circles across Mack's back until exhaustion finally won and Mack cried himself to sleep against his shoulder.
He did exactly what Mack had done for him many nights.
Over the next several days the story came out in fragments.
A sentence here.
Another there.
Sometimes Mack would start talking in the middle of dinner before suddenly stopping.
Sometimes Aiden would find him sitting on his bedroom floor staring at nothing until another piece finally slipped out.
When Aiden finally understood the whole story, he was furious.
Not the loud, explosive kind of angry.
But the quiet and dangerous kind.
He seriously considered driving to Charlie's house and beating him within an inch of his life.
It took everything Mack had to convince him not to.
But something changed inside Aiden after that week.
Watching his younger brother fall apart terrified him.
This wasn't an ordinary breakup.
Mack stopped laughing.
Stopped eating properly.
Stopped caring about school.
Assignments piled up untouched on his desk because he couldn't focus long enough to finish them.
Some mornings he couldn't even convince himself to get out of bed.
There were days when Aiden physically pulled back his curtains, helped him find clean clothes, and reminded him to brush his teeth because Mack simply forgot.
Homework became another responsibility Aiden quietly took on.
He'd sit beside Mack at the kitchen table, completing assignments with him—or sometimes for him—just to make sure his brother didn't fail junior year.
If teachers questioned missing work, Aiden found excuses.
If their parents noticed something was wrong, Aiden covered.
He became Mack's shield without ever asking if he wanted one.
It lasted for months.
Long after everyone else had forgotten about Charlie's party.
Long after Charlie had moved on with Olivia.
Aiden watched his little brother become someone he barely recognized.
He realized that Mack has comforted him dozens of nights and never asked for anything in return.
Even though Mack was going through an extremely toxic relationship he never told Aiden.
For the first time in his life, Aiden felt ashamed.
By the time Aiden left for college, Mack was finally beginning to resemble himself again.
The jokes slowly returned.
His grades recovered.
He started smiling without forcing it.
But Aiden never forgot those months.
He never forgot what it felt like to wonder if his little brother would ever come back to himself.
From that point on, his protectiveness wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't overbearing but instead it was born out of knowing.
Because once he'd watched someone break Mack that completely, he promised himself he would never stand by and let it happen again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Oh my God."
Their mom stopped just inside the doorway and dramatically pinched her nose.
"Macky, it smells terrible in here."
She took another cautious step into the room, her eyes darting around as though the source of the odor might leap out and attack her.
"What died?"
Mack laughed.
"I don't know."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
She frowned at the corner by the radiator.
"Maybe there's a dead mouse."
"There better not be."
She walked farther inside, still sniffing suspiciously.
"I think it's coming from your closet."
"I opened the closet."
"Oh."
"The smell got worse."
She made a face somewhere between horrified and offended.
"I paid tuition for this?"
"It's called the authentic college experience," Mack said.
"Apparently."
"I think the previous guy who lived here was legally allergic to doing laundry."
Aiden barked out a laugh from the bathroom doorway.
"I've met hockey players like that."
Mack glanced over at him with a smirk.
"Mom, it's fine."
"No, sweetheart, it's actually kind of concerning."
"I've smelled worse."
"Oh?"
"When I had to share Dad's truck with Aiden after summer hockey."
Aiden looked genuinely offended.
"Excuse me."
"You left your practice bag in there for four days."
"It was two."
"It was absolutely four."
"It was...maybe three."
Mack folded his arms triumphantly.
"I rest my case."
Aiden walked over and lightly punched him in the ribs.
"You're lucky you're funny."
"I learned from watching you."
"That's a lie."
"It's mostly Mom."
Their parents laughed.
It was true, though.
Growing up with an older brother who played elite hockey meant Mack had developed an unusually high tolerance for terrible smells.
Equipment bags.
Sweaty compression shirts.
Forgotten water bottles.
Laundry that somehow missed the hamper and stayed hidden beneath beds for weeks.
Every family road trip during hockey season came with the unmistakable scent of damp gear baking in the back of the SUV.
Their mom used to keep an emergency can of air freshener in the glove compartment specifically because of Aiden.
She'd spray it dramatically every time he climbed into the car after practice.
Aiden always insisted she was exaggerating.
She insisted she wasn't.
The argument had been going on for nearly ten years.
"Well," Aiden said, brushing imaginary dust off his hands, "with that incredibly rude comment, I think my work here is done."
He grabbed his backpack from the floor.
"As the newly elected secretary of Phi Kappa Alpha"
He paused dramatically.
"I have very important responsibilities before classes start tomorrow."
Mack rolled his eyes.
"Oh please."
"What?"
"You've been a secretary for, like, five minutes."
"Leadership never sleeps."
"It literally does."
"I have meetings."
"You have an excuse to avoid helping me unpack."
"Same thing."
Rick finally looked up from examining the dorm furniture.
"These new fraternity responsibilities"
His voice immediately shifted into the serious tone both brothers knew well.
"They're not going to interfere with hockey, are they?"
The room grew noticeably quieter.
Aiden's smile faded just enough for only Mack to notice.
"No, Dad."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I know why I'm here."
Rick nodded once.
"Good."
He crossed his arms.
"We don't need you getting moved down a line because you're distracted."
Aiden stayed silent.
Rick continued.
"Especially with all these freshmen they’ve brought in."
He shook his head.
"I heard they're talking about putting three first-years on the top line."
His expression practically begged someone to disagree with him.
"I seriously doubt they're that good."
“Well I’ve heard from the coaches that they might just be that good and you should be more worried then you are right now son.”
Mack resisted the urge to sigh.
His dad could somehow turn almost any conversation into one about hockey.
Traffic?
Related to away games.
Weather?
Affected ice conditions.
College?
Important because of hockey.
Thanksgiving dinner?
Someone would eventually compare carving the turkey to stickhandling.
Sometimes Mack genuinely wondered if his dad followed Boston College hockey more closely than Aiden did.
He knew his dad wasn't trying to be overbearing.
He loved the game.
He loved watching Aiden succeed.
Sometimes
He just forgot there was more to his son than the sport.
"I'll stay focused, Dad."
Aiden answered exactly the way Mack knew he would.
Short.
Respectful.
No argument.
But Mack recognized the slight stiffness in his brother's shoulders.
He knew what that meant.
Because Aiden had told him months ago.
One night, while lying on Mack's bedroom floor back home, he'd admitted how much joining Phi Kappa Alpha had changed his life.
"It sounds stupid, I know," he'd said.
"But for the first time in my entire life I have something that's mine."
Not hockey.
Not training.
Not scouts.
Not coaches.
Friends.
Leadership.
Late-night study sessions.
Football tailgates.
Brotherhood.
Somewhere people knew him as Aiden instead of "the hockey guy."
Mack had never forgotten the relief in his voice when he'd said that.
Of course Rick wouldn't understand.
To him, hockey wasn't just important.
It was the reason Aiden was at Boston College.
Everything else came second.
Aiden had learned years ago that arguing only made those conversations longer.
So instead he simply nodded.
"I'll stay focused."
Thankfully, before Rick could launch into another speech about discipline, their mom stepped in.
"Oh, Rick."
She smiled patiently.
"Leave him alone."
Rick looked over.
"He knows what he's doing."
She slipped her arm through her husband's.
"You can lecture him next week."
Rick raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"We're seeing both boys for dinner next Monday."
She smiled at Aiden.
"That gives you seven whole days before your next coaching session."
Mack smiled to himself.
His mom had a gift.
She could redirect their dad without making him feel corrected.
She never embarrassed him.
Never argued.
She simply nudged conversations somewhere calmer.
It had always amazed both brothers.
Where their dad was loud, decisive, and constantly moving, their mom was patient.
Steady.
Thoughtful.
Their dad filled the silence before it could exist.
Their mom was perfectly comfortable sitting in it.
Somehow those completely opposite personalities balanced each other perfectly.
Their dad brought excitement into every room.
Their mom brought peace.
Neither one worked nearly as well without the other.
While their dad wandered toward the broken closet door to inspect it, their mom quietly stepped closer to Aiden.
She wrapped him in another hug.
This one lingered.
When she pulled away, she leaned close enough that only he could hear.
"Take care of Mack for me."
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
There were tears shining in her eyes now.
Not dramatic tears.
Just the quiet kind that appeared when someone realized a chapter of their life had ended.
She looked between both of her sons.
Her boys.
Together again.
Just like they had been growing up.
She knew how much they needed each other.
Maybe even more than they realized.
There had always been something different about the two of them.
When they were little, they shared everything.
Bedrooms during thunderstorms.
Halloween candy.
Movie nights.
Secrets.
As they got older, most siblings naturally drifted toward separate lives.
Aiden and Mack somehow grew closer instead.
She and they had never fully understood it.
They didn't need to.
They were simply grateful.
Especially after Mack’s junior year.
Eventually Mack had told his parents what had happened.
She'd watched Aiden quietly hold Mack together during the worst months of his life.
His mom was prepared to pick Mack up and put him back together but Aiden beat her to it.
There had been mornings she found Aiden making breakfast because Mack hadn't eaten the day before.
Late nights where she heard them talking until two in the morning.
She'd watched one son carry the weight of the other without ever complaining.
If anyone could help Mack find his footing in this new place
It was Aiden.
"I always do, Mom."
Aiden answered without hesitation.
He squeezed her hand once before letting go.
Then he hugged their dad.
The hug was brief, accompanied by a firm clap on the back.
Neither of them had ever been particularly emotional.
Finally he walked over to Mack.
Instead of their usual shoulder bump, he pulled him into a proper hug.
The kind that lasted just a second longer than normal.
"You good?"
Mack nodded against his shoulder.
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
Aiden looked at him for another moment.
Like he was checking whether the answer was true.
Apparently satisfied, he smiled.
"I'll see you tonight, Macky."
"The party?"
"You better come."
"I'll think about it."
"You've been saying that all week."
"I know."
"You need to meet people."
"I'll meet people."
"Preferably ones who aren't terrible."
Mack laughed.
"I'll do my best."
Aiden pointed at him.
"I'm serious."
"I know."
"Text me if you need anything."
"I won't."
"I know."
They both smiled.
Aiden gave him one last wave before disappearing into the hallway.
A few minutes later, after several more hugs, reminders to call home, and at least three separate warnings from their mom not to skip meals, his parents finally left too.
The door clicked shut behind them.
Silence settled over the room.
For the first time in a long time
Mack was alone.
The ancient ceiling fan rattled overhead, pushing around air that still smelled faintly of stale chips and old sports equipment.
Outside, he could hear students laughing somewhere across campus.
Car doors slammed.
Parents called final goodbyes.
Someone rolled a mini fridge down the hallway with a deafening clatter.
His entire life fit into a handful of cardboard boxes scattered around the room.
Everything familiar was now thousands miles away.
Home.
His parents.
Friday nights with his mom.
Movie marathons.
The couch he'd spent years stretched out on.
It all suddenly felt impossibly distant.
He sat down on the edge of his stained mattress and looked around the room again.
It still smelled awful.
The closet was still broken.
The lighting still sucked.
None of that mattered.
Tonight would be his first real night as a college student.
His first party.
His first chance to meet people who knew absolutely nothing about Charlie.
Nothing about the breakup.
Nothing about the hookup he couldn’t get out of his head.
No one here knew his history.
For the first time in a long time
That felt freeing.
He took a slow breath.
Then another.
Maybe this tiny, ugly dorm room wasn't home yet.
But it was the place where he finally got to start over.
And that was all he needed.