Roomies in Arms - Part 10

Everyone in this story is 18+

The living room was now a war zone of social pretense.

Noel had claimed the armchair like a visiting monarch, sipping the tea I’d made. His gaze moved across the room with the quiet calculation of a man trying to decide which of us was a felon, a deviant, or both.

Nick sat on the couch, posture impeccable, doing his best “dutiful son” impression while Lex perched beside him like a malfunctioning robot freshly programmed for charm-ish.

“So,” Noel said, setting his cup down. “Nick. You’re in a relationship with a young man.”

Nick cleared his throat. “Yes. With Lex.”

Lex nodded solemnly, then broke into a grin that looked almost believable. “That’s me. The boyfriend.”

I returned to furiously wiping down already clean picture frames.

Noel’s eyes flicked to Lex. “And what are your intentions?”

Lex blinked. “My...?”

“With my son.”

Bryson leaned forward, grinning. “Oh, this is good.”

Noel’s eyes flicked to Lex. “And what are your intentions?”

Lex blinked. “My...?”

“With my son.”

Bryson leaned forward, grinning. “Oh, this is good.”

Lex adjusted his hoodie and leaned in, suddenly serious. “To support him. Emotionally. Respectfully. Also, I’m working on a start-up, focusing on sustainable tech for neurodivergent accessibility. Nick's actually given me great input.”

There was a pause. I nearly dropped the cloth.

Noel blinked. “Oh.”

Lex shrugged. “Also I make great pancakes.”

Bryson patted his knee like he’d just adopted a rescue.

Then Noel turned to Nick, eyes a little more focused now. “So. Eighteen years, and this is how I find out?”

The temperature in the room dipped—not icy, but suddenly still.

Nick didn’t flinch. “Yeah. Guess so.”

Noel raised a brow. “You couldn’t have told your mother?”

“She’s in Japan.”

“Korea,” Noel corrected gently. “Seoul.”

Nick sighed. “Right. I’ll... send her assistant an email or something.”

“She’s your mother, Nick.”

“And you’re my... stepdad,” Nick said, voice softer now. “And you’re here. So you get the news first. Surprise.”

Noel was quiet for a beat longer than comfort allowed.

Then: “Well. I’m glad you’re being honest.”

Nick looked up.

“I’m surprised,” Noel admitted. “But not disappointed.”

Lex blinked. “Wow. Low bar, but I’ll take it.”

Bryson clapped his hands once, all sunshine. “Well, that’s a relief. Group therapy breakfast, anyone?”

I sighed and returned to wiping an already pristine windowsill.

“And what about you, Jax?” Noel asked, finally shifting attention. “Seeing anyone?”

Jax straightened like a soldier under review. “Yeah. Totally. There’s a girl I like.”

Bryson tilted his head. “Yeah, Nicolina it was—from Russia, right?”

Jax blinked. “No. Natalie from… Ukraine.”

“Right, right. Loves ballet and finger painting, yeah?”

Jax’s silence was deafening.

I cleared my throat. “So, Bryson. Shall we go pack? Maybe leave the family some space to... catch up?”

Bryson sighed theatrically. “Just when it was getting fun. Well, alright then.”

He stood and stretched like a cat in silk, then glanced over his shoulder. “Do you still iron your socks, by the way? Feel like making a brotherly sacrifice and doing mine?”

I narrowed my eyes.

He grinned, clapped a hand on my shoulder, and strolled toward my room like he owned it.

◆◆◆

Back in my room, the smell of lavender starch and linen hung in the air—my attempt at sanctuary. I pulled out the collapsible ironing board from under the bed with the grim determination of a footman preparing for battle.

Bryson strolled in behind me, a satisfied smirk still lingering on his face.

"What is wrong with you?" I snapped, yanking the ironing board legs into place. "Ballet and finger painting? Nick-Olina? Are you serious?"

He flopped onto my bed, entirely too pleased with himself. "Relax, Mary Poppins. I was just having a bit of fun. And whoa, I only joked about the socks—are you really going to iron them?"

"Yes," I said, already sorting through a pile of his obnoxiously colorful polo socks. "It’s not the ironing that’s the problem. It’s you being so... so moronic. Not everything is a game. Lives are at stake. They’re stepbrothers, for God’s sake."

Bryson grinned. "Shh, isn’t that all the rage lately? I’ve seen lots of step-shit trending on Pornhub."

I pressed the iron down harder than necessary, watching steam hiss from the fabric. "This is what you do. Show up once twice a year, mess everything up, take my female friends’ virginities, make fun of my friends—and it’s always so easy for you."

His smirk faltered.

"Hey, that’s not fair, I—"

"You’re not fair!" I shot back, voice rising. "The golden boy. Your mum actually cares. You’ve always had Dad’s favor. I was weak. Too effeminate. Not ‘heir material.’ You have it so easy."

There was a beat of silence. Then, quietly:

"It’s not easy," Bryson said. "Mom pushes me to be a certain way. Always has. To be ambitious. To be the favorite son. But I don’t really care about any of it."

I looked up from the socks. He wasn’t smirking anymore.

"Sebastian, you’re not cut out for this world."

"Excuse me?"

"That’s what makes you special," he continued, softer now. "At Harvard, there are a thousand guys who would kill for your background and your connections. But you want to run off with the freaking circus or whatever. You’re too pure for this shit."

I swallowed. My throat felt tight.

"And if I don’t fix things," he said, "you’ll end up being Dad’s chosen heir. And that would destroy you. So, I’m off to London. For your sake."

My lips parted, but the words didn’t come.

"Oh dear. I... I—"

"It’s okay," he said gently. Then with a quick, brotherly nod: "Let’s talk about something else."

He got up and moved to help me pack, folding clothes with surprising care. For once, we worked in silence—no jabs, no bravado. Just two brothers, side by side, holding the fragile kind of peace that only comes when you’ve both dropped the act.

And for once, that was enough.

◆◆◆

The apartment had settled into something resembling normalcy—if normalcy now included a shared secret operation and an accidental coming out in front of a visiting parent. Jax and Nick returned from their debrief with Noel looking a little flushed, but intact.

Lex sprawled across the living room floor, an open Yerba Mate in one hand and his phone in the other. “Operation: Deflect and Misdirect was a resounding success,” he said, grinning. “Honestly, someone should hire me for a PR firm. Or MI6.”

“You’re terrifying,” I said.

“You’re welcome,” Lex replied with a smirk.

Nick slumped onto the couch next to Jax. “And thanks, Sebastian. Seriously. That whole... thing. You kept it from turning into a nuclear meltdown.”

Jax nodded. “Yeah, man. That was... something.”

I offered a tired smile. “I did grow up in boarding schools. Hiding debauchery becomes a specialty pretty quickly. But Lex—how did you manage to get Nick into your room?”

Lex grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Once I realized what was happening, I sprinted back to my room, climbed out the window in my boxers, tiptoed along the ledge like a damn cat burglar. Luckily, Nick and Jax had already clocked Noel outside, so I grabbed Nick—also in his boxers, by the way—and we climbed back into my room. Easy.”

Nick let out a laugh. “It was ridiculous. But honestly—thank you, again. All of you. Coming out to Noel was one thing, but the rest… we’re not ready to share that just yet. Thanks“

Lex gave a theatrical sigh. “Anytime, babe. Now, Nick—should I call you Bae? Or Nicky-bae?”

Nick nearly choked on his own breath, Jax snorted beside him.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Jax said, shaking his head. But Bryson... Nick-Olina? Who loves ballet and finger painting? Really?”

Bryson clapped his hands, completely unapologetic. “Come on, that was gold, just a little inside joke among friends. But I think it’s time for me to head to London. Trainee life awaits. Try not to let the place descend into total debauchery without me.”

He gave a wink to Jax. “Keep up with the fun, Nicky seems like a great guy.”

Then to Lex: “Good luck, Lex I’m sure your start-up will be terrifying. I’m also confident you have feral racoon-blood mixed with something techie. Keep up the good work.”

Lex snorted. “You’re a menace. And descent on the PS5, I will give you that.”

Bryson turned to me. “Walk me out?”

I nodded, following him to the door. The hallway outside was dim, quiet—the chaos left behind for a brief moment of stillness.

Bryson looked at me, his smile softening. “You’re not weak, Seb. You’re stronger than anyone I know. Including me.”

I hesitated. “Thanks. I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I’m just... not always sure where I fit. But I’m sure you’ll be a trainee for, like, a week—and PM by next Wednesday. Which is good, because you’re definitely going to need a pardon for your browser history.”

He let out a reluctant laugh.

He turned, took a step toward the stairs, then paused.

“Oh. I think you fit right into this collective, oddly enough. And Seb, Lex is weird. Asher is basically you but with his life together. Either way... it’s okay. I know. I’ve always known.”

He smirked, knowing but not smug for once. Then he was gone.