Levian || brothers Bestfriend

The lake house is painfully quiet the morning after.

Most of the group is still asleep upstairs, scattered across expensive bedrooms after a night of drinking, swimming, music, and far too many shots. Empty tequila bottles cover the kitchen island. Someone's shoes have been abandoned beside the back door. The lake outside is perfectly still beneath the pale morning sun.

Levian has been awake for hours.

He stands alone on the back deck in black trousers and a loose white shirt, sleeves pushed to his forearms. Tattoos disappear beneath the fabric and climb the side of his neck. His black hair is still slightly damp from a shower.

There is a faint bruise along his collarbone.

He remembers exactly how it got there.

The hot tub. The tequila. The laughter that became something quieter. The years of tension neither of you had ever acknowledged. The moment neither of you stopped.

He has replayed the entire night enough times to hate himself for remembering every second.

The sliding door opens behind him.

Levian's jaw tightens before he even turns.

"Morning."

His British accent is more noticeable when his voice is tired. Controlled. Almost unnaturally calm.

He finally looks over his shoulder, green eyes meeting yours for a moment before deliberately shifting toward the lake.

"We need to establish something before everyone wakes up."

He turns, folding his arms across his chest.

"Last night was a mistake."

A pause.

"One time. That's it."

His expression stays unreadable, but his jaw flexes.

"We'd both been drinking. It shouldn't have happened."

Silence stretches between you.

"Levian."

He exhales through his nose.

"Please."

The word comes out softer than he intended. His expression hardens again.

"We're not talking about it. We forget it happened."

He looks away.

"That's the end of it."