My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 246: The Lone Golden Boy
3rd Person Pov
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⭒❊✿❊⭒∘∙⊱⋅•
Ethan had always taken on more than he could manage, a walking contradiction of the perfect golden boy hiding a core that felt perpetually broken. His parents were mostly absent, sending checks instead of birthday cards, and his abusive uncle’s idea of affection was, at best, not punching holes in the walls when sober.
He barely saw his younger brother, who had wisely opted for boarding school to escape the chaos of home. On top of that, there was the relentless grind of school, the college applications that felt like desperate love letters to distant universities, basketball practices where he pushed his body until his lungs burned, and the family car dealerships that had somehow become his responsibility before he even turned twenty-one.
Everyone wanted to be around him—handsome, blond, built like he could bench-press his problems, with that easy-going energy that drew people in. But deep down, Ethan was always waiting, quietly terrified that someone might see past the façade and recognize the mess he truly was.
Noah was the closest anyone had gotten to seeing him. From the very beginning, he wasn’t fooled by the act like everyone else. While others saw charm with no effort, Noah was more cautious, almost on guard, as if he was waiting for Ethan to crack and turn out to be a complete jerk.
That very hesitation hooked Ethan harder than any slam dunk could. Then there were Noah’s unique qualities that made him impossible to ignore: the gentle, androgynous features that bullies at Brookstone High loved to mock, the quiet insight that allowed him to pick up on things no one else noticed, the way his sarcasm hit just right, and that rare, crooked smile which felt like a cherished secret meant only for Ethan.
Before he knew it, Ethan had fallen head over heels for the quiet gay boy the rest of the school had dismissed as an easy target. When they finally got together, Ethan felt something within him unclench for the first time in years.
He wasn’t just seen; he was adored by the one person he adored back. The loneliness that had stalked him his entire life faded away like fog in the sunlight.
He had promised himself, in those quiet moments when Noah’s head rested on his chest and their breathing synced up, that he’d never ruin this. Never hurt him. Never let it go.
So when they were sitting across from each other at that ridiculously fancy dinner Ethan had set up as a surprise, and Noah’s voice cracked as he said, "We need to go on a break,"
The world didn’t just tilt; it shattered. There was someone else. Someone who made Noah question everything. Someone who had slipped in between them without Ethan even realizing it.
Staring at his plate of cooling pasta, the sauce suddenly looked like blood, and he managed a nod that felt like it took every ounce of strength he had. He didn’t ask who. He didn’t want to know. Because if he knew the name, the face, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from doing something he’d regret.
Rage simmered low and hot in his gut, an alien feeling for someone who usually laughed everything off. He tried to convince himself it was better this way, ignorance as mercy. But the loneliness crashed back in waves so intense he could barely breathe.
He kept telling himself he was alone again. He’d been alone his whole life; this just felt louder, more obvious. But he had no idea how much deeper alone could cut until his uncle Logan didn’t come home.
Logan was supposed to be back from Hayseville two days ago. Normally, Ethan wouldn’t care if the man vanished off to a foreign country like his parents, he’d fantasized about it more than once...but this time felt different.
Ethan had finally mustered the courage to confront him. He’d gone through Logan’s stuff, Ethan was done being scared. Done flinching when Logan’s voice rose. If the man came home swinging, Ethan had decided he’d swing back.
This time, consequences would go both ways.
So he waited. The house felt bigger without Logan’s heavy footsteps or the clink of his whiskey bottle against the counter. Hours stretched into a day. No text, no call, no drunken stumble through the front door at 3 a.m. Ethan paced the living room, the hardwood creaking under his sneakers like it was mocking him. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢
He’d texted: Where are you? No response.
He called: straight to voicemail after the fifth ring.
By the second day, worry crept in despite himself. Logan was a lot of things, cruel, selfish, a walking hangover...but he always kept Ethan in the loop about being late as if Ethan gave a shit.
It was one of the few rules he actually followed, like some twisted form of courtesy. Ethan walked around the empty house, flipping light switches just to hear the click, opening the fridge and staring at the expired milk as if it might provide answers.
He even considered calling the police for a welfare check, imagining the operator’s bored voice asking if his uncle had a history of disappearing. Yeah, he thought bitterly, every time he gets drunk and forgets he has a nephew.
Midnight came, two full days after Logan was due back in Willow Haven. Ethan had finally collapsed onto the couch in the den, still in his hoodie and sweats, too exhausted to head upstairs to his room. Sleep was elusive, filled with half-dreams of Noah’s smile.
A knock shattered the silence.
It was sharp, official, three deliberate raps that echoed through the quiet house like shots fired. Ethan jolted upright, heart pounding. For a second, he thought it might be Logan, too drunk to find his keys. But no, Logan never knocked politely.
He shuffled to the front door in his socks, rubbing sleep from his eyes, the hallway light harsh against his bleary vision. He opened the door without checking the peephole, stupid, but exhaustion made him careless.
Two police officers stood on the porch, their faces serious under the glow of the motion-sensor light. One was older, gray at the temples; the other was younger, almost apologetic in the way he shifted his weight. Their badges gleamed. The night air rushed in, cold and carrying a faint smell of rain.
Ethan felt a sense of dread, oh...no.
"Ethan Seymour?" the older one asked, his voice low and careful, the kind reserved for delivering bad news.
Ethan’s stomach plummeted so fast he felt dizzy. He nodded, throat too dry to speak.
The younger officer glanced at his partner, then back at Ethan. "Can we come inside, son? We need to talk."
Ethan stepped aside, the door creaking open wider. His mind raced in frantic, useless circles. Car accident. Bar fight gone wrong. Something involving Joanne. Or maybe...God, maybe Noah. But no, they said his name. This was about him, about his home.
The officers stepped into the foyer, their boots loud on the wooden floor. Ethan closed the door behind them, the click sounding final. He crossed his arms, trying to appear steady, but his hands trembled.
The older officer cleared his throat. "We’re sorry to wake you so late. There’s been an incident involving your uncle, Logan Seymour."
Ethan’s heart raced in his ears. He waited in silence, the tension stretching out until it nearly hurt.
𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯’𝔰 𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰
Please ignore this part, novelkiss won’t let me edit this Chapter properly after their system messed it up with the repetition and the part below from a future Chapter. Sigh, this app probably hates me...
----
"I’m coming with you," he replied, not in a possessive way, but with a protective vibe that softened his insistence.
The drive to Ethan’s felt longer than usual, the quiet streets of Willow Haven winding under a sky that looked like it might rain but never quite did. When we arrived, the house seemed different, subdued in a way that went beyond the half-drawn curtains.
The big colonial-style place, usually filled with the faint hum of life, felt disrupted. A slight smell of stale coffee hung by the porch, as if someone had brewed a pot days ago and left it there, and maybe there was a trace of incense trying too hard to cover the emptiness.
Ethan’s car was the only vehicle in the driveway; his parents were still nowhere to be found, leaving him alone in that large, sterile space going through all this alone.
opened the door after my hesitant knock. He didn’t look wrecked like I’d half-expected; he just seemed tired, the kind of deep exhaustion that comes from pointless nights and mornings that blur together.
His blond hair was messy, and the sparkle in his eyes had faded to a muted glow. Dark circles sat under his eyes, and he had a slight slump that made my heart ache.
