An Old Sweet Story About Rebirth

Tyler didn’t know how long the kiss lasted.
His face had ended up buried in Shane’s shoulder, his eyes damp, lips parted in a quiet, breathless exhale—like his body had given up on holding itself together.

Instinctively, he shifted, a tiny movement, almost involuntary.
But Shane’s voice came low against his ear. “Don’t move.”
Tyler froze. “…What?”

A dry laugh followed, barely a sound. “Don’t test my self-control.”
He went still again, this time understanding. Too well.
Not just because he remembered how strangely stiff Shane had been last time—though that was part of it. No, this time it was more… direct.

Pressed close like this, chest to chest, there was no mistaking what he felt.
The realization hit like a match to gasoline. Tyler’s entire face flushed hot, the burn reaching the tips of his ears. His body, which had been slack and boneless a moment ago, went taut in a heartbeat.
Shane exhaled, shifting back just enough to give them space, though his arms stayed around him, holding him like something fragile. One hand, long-fingered and steady, moved gently up and down Tyler’s back—soothing, reassuring, like he was calming a startled animal.

When Tyler’s breathing eased again, Shane’s voice followed, soft and even: “Don’t be nervous. I told you—I’m not in a rush.”
Tyler made a sound—noncommittal, embarrassed—but his face flushed even deeper. He opened his mouth to say something, some kind of acknowledgment, but nothing coherent came out.
What was he supposed to say? “It’s fine, you can rush”?

Shane chuckled again and backed off a little more. He caught Tyler’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to the back of it.
“Not until my boyfriend says yes,” he murmured. “I won’t do anything he’s not ready for.”
A pause. “That alright with you… boyfriend?”

Tyler made a soft, startled noise, head ducking. “So… we’re really… dating now?”
Shane didn’t even try to hide his amusement. He bit Tyler’s fingertip—not hard, just enough to startle. “Of course.”
“What, were you planning to flirt and run? Leave me without a label?”

Tyler shook his head frantically, voice tumbling out: “No, no, I wasn’t— I mean, I wouldn’t—”
Then stopped short, realizing belatedly that Shane had led him right into that one. The whole thing had been a setup.
He shut his mouth, pressed his lips together, and glared.
Shane looked far too pleased with himself. He reached up and playfully tapped Tyler’s nose. “You said you’d give it. Give what?”

Tyler refused to answer, face burning redder by the second.
Then, the soft clink of a key in the front doorlock.
It was late afternoon—Emily’s promised return time.

Tyler bolted upright from the couch. He hesitated a second, then reached out and yanked Shane up by the arm.
Shane laughed. “What, trying to kick me out?”
Tyler shook his head again, panicked. “No! No, I—”

Still gripping Shane’s hand, he pulled him toward the entryway.
Emily was halfway through kicking off her boots, the front bench stacked with little gifts from friends—handmade cards, keychains, a glittery plush rabbit.
As soon as she saw them, she lit up.

“Shane! You came to visit my brother!”
Shane smiled. “I did.”
He leaned slightly forward. “Happy birthday, Emily.”

In the past, Tyler might’ve jumped in right then, eager to explain that Shane had brought gifts, that this wasn’t weird.
But not today.
Today, he pressed his lips together, stepped forward, and said—carefully, solemnly—“Emily, there’s something I need to tell you.”

She paused, boots halfway off, eyes going wide. “What is it?”
Tyler swallowed hard. Then, all in one breath, “Today, Shane and I… we became a couple.”
He had to tell her.

He thought she’d be shocked. That she might not understand—two boys, two brothers, becoming something else. Maybe she didn’t even know what being a couple meant.
But instead—
“Whoa!” Emily’s whole face lit up. She whipped around to Shane with glee. “You finally got my brother to say yes?!”

“Congrats! He’s super hard to win over, huh?!”
Tyler: “…”
He stared at her like she’d sprouted antlers. His mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again.

“You—you’re just a kid—”
How the hell do you even know this stuff?
What the hell did she learn this semester?

Emily just shrugged, unbothered. “C’mon, I’m twelve. I know what dating is.”
She pointed a finger at Tyler. “Before break, you both came to pick me up at school, remember? My roommate called it immediately. Said, ‘That tall guy with the movie-star vibe? Definitely in love with your brother.’”
She giggled. “She told me to stop third-wheeling and give you two some alone time.”

Tyler looked genuinely stricken. His brain refused to compute how he—he, the responsible big brother—was supposed to respond to a tween who casually dropped romantic analysis like it was nothing.
“You kids…” he muttered. “You know too much. Way too much…”
Emily clutched her gifts and grinned, smug. “I’m twelve, not six. I get what being a couple is—it’s when two people really like each other and want to be together all the time.”

She walked toward her room, then called over her shoulder to Shane, “My brother likes you a lot, you know. He just doesn’t know how to say stuff.”
“So you better take good care of him, okay?”
Tyler made a sound that was practically a squawk. He tried for his sternest big-brother voice: “Emily! That’s enough!”

“You’re home—go wash your hands! Get changed!”
Emily made a face, stuck her tongue out. “I knew you’d say I was being a third wheel again.”
And then she darted into her room, slamming the door dramatically behind her.

Tyler stood frozen in the hallway, cheeks pink, eyes wide. When he finally turned to Shane, he found the man watching him with eyes that crinkled at the corners, full of quiet laughter.
“…What are you smiling at?” Tyler asked suspiciously.
Shane leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“I’m smiling,” he said, “because you just introduced my new title.”
He didn’t stop there—his mouth brushed Tyler’s ear, a whisper of warmth. “And also… because I heard, ‘My brother likes you a lot.’”
Tyler slapped both hands over his ears like he could stuff the words back in. “Don’t listen to her!”

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about!”
Shane grinned. “Alright. I won’t.”
But his gaze said otherwise.

Tyler could feel it. That belief—quiet, steady, unwavering—burning in those eyes.
He felt like he’d been caught in a lie he hadn’t meant to tell. His ears were on fire. He stood awkwardly in the foyer, not knowing whether to flee or stay or evaporate on the spot.
Shane reached up and gently patted his head. Then, like flipping a switch, changed the subject: “I’ve got to go. Flight to Harbor City tonight.”

Tyler blinked. “Oh. Okay.”
Shane hesitated. “I’m leaving now. Aren’t you going to see me off?”
Tyler frowned. “You live next door.”

“You literally walk out one door and into the other.”
Still, he opened the front door anyway.
He didn’t say it aloud, but he walked beside Shane. Or rather, let Shane hold his hand and guide him those few steps down the hallway, into Shane’s apartment.

The moment they crossed the threshold, Shane turned.
In one smooth motion, he pressed Tyler to the wall, bracing his forearm beside Tyler’s head, the other hand cradling the back of his skull to keep him from hitting the cold drywall.
He dipped his head, breath brushing Tyler’s cheekbones, his temple.

It felt like the prelude to a kiss. But it wasn’t.
Instead, Shane just leaned in—nose to nose, scenting his skin like some starved predator trying not to devour its prey.
A few seconds passed. Then a deep breath. Shane eased his arms, gave Tyler space.

“I’m going to be busy,” he said softly. “But I’ll come back every weekend. I promise.”
He meant it as reassurance. Nothing more.
But Tyler, wide-eyed and still warm from earlier, gave a quiet little “mm.” Then, unexpectedly, rose on his toes—and kissed him.

Just a brush of lips. A soft, fleeting thing.
But it was enough to wreck Shane’s composure.
His breath caught. His hands clenched. He had to force himself not to pull Tyler in, not to deepen it, not to ruin that gentle moment.

His throat moved once. Then again.
Finally, in a hoarse voice: “…Wait for me.”
Tyler nodded. Quick. Quiet. “Okay. See you.”

“I’ll go now.”
And just like that, the little fish darted out from between the crab’s claws, escaping clean.
 

****
Shane hadn’t made it back from Harbor City yet by the time school started again.
The dorm was full now—everyone back in their beds, dragging suitcases, unzipping duffel bags, exchanging snacks and gossip. Which meant it was only a matter of time before someone said—

“So,” ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) said Zhou Peng, peeling the wrapper off a sunburned coconut candy. “Winter break stories, people. I nearly got roasted alive on that island—look at this tan line. Peeling like a lizard.”
Xu Rui grinned from across the room. “Luxury. I spent the whole break eating leftovers and smoked meat. I never want to see another sausage again. I missed cafeteria food, man. Cafeteria!”
Then all eyes turned to Tyler.

He hesitated.
His fingers curled against his jeans. His gaze flicked from the window to the bookshelf to the ceiling fan. Anywhere but them.
And then, almost too quietly: “Me and Shane… we’re together now.”

Silence.
Two beats. Three.
Then Zhou Peng let out a long, impressed whistle and broke into applause. “Well damn! Congrats to our Shane!”

He clapped so hard the bedframe rattled. “Tell him we want barbecue! The good place—by the south gate!”
Xu Rui leaned over and smacked Tyler’s shoulder, grinning like it was his birthday. “About time! You little idiot fish—finally came to your senses.”
Tyler’s face flushed. “Why are you guys so… so excited?”

More excited than I am.
Zhou Peng threw an arm around his shoulder. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
“The way you acted before—it was driving us nuts. All that tiptoeing, all that denial. We were watching Shane just sit there, being all noble and patient like some drama lead. I kept thinking, how the hell is he not making a move already?”

Tyler stared. “Wait. So you all… you all knew?”
“That he liked you?” Zhou Peng snorted. “Obviously.”
Xu Rui chimed in. “We’ve known for ages. And it’s not even subtle. The guy was down bad. The devoted, pining, tragic romance kind of bad.”

Tyler scratched the back of his neck, not knowing what to say.
But in his chest, the unease he’d been trying to ignore stirred again. That little itch in his brain that hadn’t gone away since New Year’s.
This semester, one of their gen-ed classes was Intro to Law.

He’d started flipping through the textbook obsessively, rereading the sections on civil law, company law, marriage law. Then he’d gone to the library and dug through more—statutes, commentaries, case notes.
The deeper he dug, the more unsettled he felt.
And in the end, when he still didn’t have an answer, he did what he rarely ever did.

He went to ask the professor.
It took hours, maybe days, of reading and quiet obsession, but eventually he thought he understood. The legal mechanics, the contract terms, the way a marriage like theirs could exist without notice or fanfare.
And the more he understood the how…

…the more confused he became about the why.
 
****

It was another Saturday.
No matter how busy he got, Shane always made it back by Friday night.
And every Saturday evening, without fail, they curled up together on the worn couch in Shane’s apartment. Sometimes they watched movies. Sometimes they flipped through comics. Sometimes they just sat and watched the skyline blur into nightfall, lights flickering one by one across the city.

Tonight was no different.
Shane was leaned back against the cushions, his arm draped casually around Tyler. Tyler lay half-curled in his lap, eyes flicking toward the screen—but his mind clearly somewhere else.
Even the popcorn went untouched.

Shane clicked the remote. The screen went black.
His hand rose, brushing gently against Tyler’s cheek. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Tyler shifted upright, like he needed a little more space to breathe. “Um…”

“Yeah?”
He hesitated, then offered, “The short animation we worked on—it placed third.”
Shane smiled. “I know. You told me already.”

“Oh.”
Another pause. “Emily did great on her midterms.”
Shane gave a quiet sigh. “You told me that too.”

“Tyler,” he said gently, “what’s actually going on?”
Tyler drew a breath, stared down at his hands. “I… I took a class this semester—basic business law. Just a survey course.”
“Okay,” Shane said slowly.

“And… the more I learned, the more I started thinking about our contract. The marriage thing. And…” He looked up, searching Shane’s face. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“Like, for someone who runs a major company—why would you hand over control, even temporarily, to a nineteen-year-old with no credentials? Just because some… astrologer said so?”
Shane’s expression didn’t change. “Ah. That.”

Tyler hesitated. “…Also—my birthday’s coming up. And I figured, you’d bring it up. The part where I’m supposed to fulfill the contract. The whole ‘we’re married now’ clause.”
But Shane interrupted, voice calm, unwavering: “That agreement? Let’s tear it up.”
Tyler blinked. “What?!”

“I don’t want a fake marriage,” Shane said simply. “And I don’t want you marrying me because of some contract.”
I want to walk beside you. Protect you. Hold your hand as we walk down the shore. And when we reach the place where the waves speak your favorite song—I want to kneel, and ask you to marry me.
Tyler’s eyes widened. “Wait, I didn’t mean— I don’t want a fake marriage either. But that’s not the point.”

“The point is…” His words tangled. “The point is, the stuff you said—the star charts, the fortune-teller, the ‘you must marry him to avoid disaster’ thing… It was all…”
“Fake,” Shane said smoothly.
Tyler froze. “…What?”

He stared, absolutely thrown off by the bluntness. There wasn’t a hint of guilt or hesitation in Shane’s voice.
This was not the reaction he expected. Not an apology. Not even a real defense.
Wait… is my boyfriend secretly just… really good at lying? Like, criminally good at it?

Shane gave a quick, slightly awkward cough. His smile faded into something quieter, more serious.
One arm slipped around Tyler’s shoulders, steady and warm.
“You probably won’t believe me,” Shane said. “But the truth is—I liked you far earlier than you ever guessed.”

Earlier than you even thought possible.
Earlier than this life.
“Back then, I didn’t know how to approach you. I wanted to stay close, to protect you, to give you everything I could… but I was afraid. I thought if I told you the truth, you’d shut the door on me before I could even knock.”

“So yeah… I lied. Badly, I’ll admit.”
He tilted his head, looking Tyler in the eyes. “But the part where I like you? That’s never been a lie.”
Tyler had wondered, once—if Shane ever admitted to lying, would he be angry?

Now that it was happening… he wasn’t angry at all.
Strangely, he understood.
He thought back to the beginning. If Shane had walked up to him, all suave and charming, back on day one…

He would’ve grabbed Emily and bolted. No hesitation.
So in a way, Shane had been right.
More than that—

Tyler turned, meeting Shane’s gaze full-on.
That heat. That gentleness. That absolute, undivided attention.
It was in his eyes the whole time, wasn’t it?

He just hadn’t known how to recognize it.
Shane, watching Tyler go quiet, felt a flicker of anxiety. Had he gone too far? Had he finally pushed too hard?
“…Tyler?”

Tyler reached up, brushing a thumb along the sharp line of Shane’s jaw. “So that’s why…”
“Hm?”
“…That’s why you used to wear sunglasses all the time. Even indoors. Even at night.”

“You told me it was a sensitivity to light.”
Shane let out a breath of relief. Tyler wasn’t angry. Just… teasing.
He chuckled, leaning back. “I was worried you’d figure out I’d already fallen for you.”

“I didn’t want you to see it in my eyes.”
Tyler’s cheeks went pink. “You… ‘fell for me’?”
He swallowed. Then, softer: “What kind of… ‘fall’ are we talking about?”

Shane knew that tone—knew it too well. His Tyler wasn’t asking for a vocabulary lesson.
He caught Tyler’s hand, kissed his fingers slowly, one by one. “What do you think I meant?”
His other hand moved without hesitation, finding familiar ground. Touching only where trust had already been built, boundaries gently mapped over the past few months.

He had kept his word. No rushing. No pushing.
But tonight—
He leaned in, breath brushing Tyler’s ear. “Can I?”

 
****
In theory, there are many ways to cook a fish.

If you want it tender, clean, unspoiled—you don’t blast it over high heat. You prepare gently. You season lightly. You let it unfold at its own pace.
Every good chef knows this.
But sometimes, it’s not the chef who rushes.

Sometimes, it’s the fish that’s too fresh. Too soft. Too sweet.
And the only way to draw out its flavor…
…is a little fire.

Tyler had opened his eyes a few times.
But everything was moving.
The ceiling spun. The light above shifted like a slow pendulum. Even his legs were… off the ground?

That made no sense.
And the more he thought about why his legs were where they were, the more his face burned. So he stopped thinking altogether and just shut his eyes.
It didn’t help much.

Because even with his eyes closed, the sounds still echoed in his ears. Some of them—God help him—were his own. That was somehow worse.
He tried turning his face away, wanting to escape the gaze above him, but the effort always failed.
Because every time he moved, that same voice came close again—breathing warm against his ear, saying, over and over, in that low, reverent tone:

“I love you.”
—
Seasons passed.

Spring to winter. Heat to cold. One year to the next.
In the blink of an eye, Emily had started high school.
Tyler was in his final year of college.

It was the second semester of his senior year. His last few months at Greenville University.
One afternoon in March, he sat in the study, facing his laptop, eyes fixed on the little red dot that said: You have new mail.
His right hand absently rubbed the ring on the fourth finger of his left.

Shane knew that gesture. It only came out when Tyler was really, really anxious.
Standing behind him, Shane placed both hands gently on his shoulders and said in a low voice, “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll read it with you.”
Tyler nodded. “Okay.”

He already had several job offers lined up. Good ones.
But the one he wanted most—the one that mattered—was from that art institute. The one founded by the man who gave the world its most iconic mouse.
Some of Tyler’s favorite animations had come from the alumni of that place.

But the acceptance rate was a joke.
Even with international awards and a growing portfolio, Tyler didn’t let himself feel sure. Not about this.
He swallowed, clicked on the message.

We are pleased to inform you…
He read the first few lines.
Then exhaled. Closed his eyes. Let the silence settle for just a moment before he turned, grabbed Shane around the neck, and buried his face against him, tears shimmering in his eyes.

“Shane—I got in. I GOT IN!”
Shane ran a hand through his hair and whispered back, over and over, “Yeah… yeah, you did. You really did.”
Tyler sniffed hard and pulled back a little. His voice was raw. “I’m one step closer. Closer to making the kind of animation I’ve always dreamed of.”

Then he leaned in again, arms wrapped tight around Shane’s neck, and said it straight into his ear like a vow: “I’m going to do it. I’m going to make something you can watch on a big screen. Something that’s really mine.”
Shane rubbed his back. “You will. I believe it.”
—

Later, after the excitement had calmed, Tyler curled up on the couch, rereading the email carefully.
Then he frowned. “Huh.”
Shane had noticed it too. He grinned. “What a coincidence.”

The start date?
Exactly the same as the "termination date" listed in the marriage contract they'd long since torn up.
Back when they'd agreed: divorce cleanly by that date, part ways, no lingering ties.

Tyler thought for a moment, then turned to look at him sideways, mischief playing in his eyes.
“Mr. Xie,” he said.
Shane raised a brow. “Yes, Mr. Chi?”

“If your acting hadn’t been so bad back then—and I really had believed that whole contract was legit—what would you have done when I got this offer? When I had to leave the city?”
There was a spark in Tyler’s eyes now—something playful, teasing. A glint that never used to be there when he was younger.
Shane lightly flicked the tip of his nose. “What could I have done?”

“I’d have stayed in character. Played the domineering CEO to the end.”
“I’d shove you up against the wall, shout ‘You’re not allowed to leave me!’… and then—well, you know the rest.”
Tyler dissolved into laughter, sliding right off the couch.

“God, Shane—what kind of cliché CEO drama is that?! You’d never say something like that.”
Shane scooped him up before he hit the floor. “Okay then. What would I do?”
Tyler flopped against his chest and pinched his cheek. “You’d probably put your sunglasses back on, smirk like a proper villain, and say…”

“‘Hmph. Letting you go this far is already more generosity than any other CEO would allow.’”
“‘You better make something good, or I’m going to be embarrassed for you.’”
Shane burst into laughter. “Okay, yeah, that actually sounds more like me.”

“…Although—”
Tyler glanced up. “Although?”
Shane slid his fingers under Tyler’s chin, tipping it up, and gave him the smirk in question. “Although I still prefer my version.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against Tyler’s ear.
“Because in my version,” he whispered, “I get to press you up against that wall and… devour you.”
Tyler: “!”

I walked into that one…
Moments later, over his breathless protests—“It’s three in the afternoon!” and “We’ve been married three years, how are you still like this?!”—Shane hoisted his little fish right off the couch and carried him straight into the bedroom.
That afternoon, and that night, became a full-course feast.

Bon appétit.
—
Much later, after the little fish had been thoroughly cooked and blissfully passed out, Shane tucked the blanket around him and left the room quietly.

He stepped into the study.
It was time to start researching neighborhoods around the art institute.
Somewhere peaceful. Somewhere beautiful. Somewhere Tyler could create freely, and he could quietly work remote.

He opened his laptop. His eyes passed over a book lying nearby.
Little Fish and the Orange Crab.
The only copy in the world.

A handmade comic. Tyler’s gift to him.
Shane reached out and ran a finger along the cartoon cover, smiling as he touched the silly doodle of that stubborn little fish.
This time, his little fish had found his dream.

And this time, he would chase it with nothing holding him back.
And I—I’ll be right beside you, always.
Every time you look to the side, I’ll be there.

I love you.
We’ll never be apart again.
 

_________________________
 
The End.

Tyler and Shane will live happily ever after in their own little world. 🧡
Thank you to every reader who walked this journey with them.