Under the Same Sky, Not the Same World

They said boys like them weren’t meant to be together, but no one could explain what, exactly, made them so different from the rest.

Hey Xander, you know you’re not supposed to be in this area.”

“Yeah, I know.”

His voice was soft spoken, almost careless, like he didn’t have a care in the world—but it wasn’t confidence. It was exhaustion pretending to be calm.

A tall figure stood there: soft curls, pale skin with a faint blush at his cheeks, honey-blonde hair that caught the sunlight in a way that made him look unreal, and eyes that shimmered every time he blinked like they held something he never said out loud.

“You know what happened last time,” the girl—Alice—whispered. “Mom almost killed you.”

“It’s fine, Alice,” Xander said quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s not like they care about me. All they care about is their reputation.”

“I know but—”

“No buts, Alice. It’s the truth.”

There was a pause between them. Heavy. Familiar.

Because Xander had stopped expecting anything else.

A strong voice suddenly cut through the air.

“XANDER! ALICE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Xander turned his head slowly.

“Oh hey, Mom— we were jus—”

A slap landed across his face before he could even finish the sentence.

The sound cracked through the hallway like it belonged there.

Xander didn’t even flinch right away. His head turned slightly with the force, curls falling over his eyes. Then the sting came—hot, sharp, humiliating.

Alice froze.

His mother stood in front of them, eyes cold and controlled, like anger had long stopped being a feeling and become a habit.

“You don’t ‘just’ do anything,” she said sharply. “Not in this house. Not in this family. You don’t embarrass us again, Xander.”

He swallowed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly.

But something in his voice was gone.

Something had been missing for a long time already.

⸻

Far away from that house, where everything felt like punishment dressed as perfection, another life existed.

Marcus sat alone in a home that didn’t feel like a home—it felt like a cathedral pretending to be a cage.

Marcus was tall and well-built, with a fitted, clean look that made him stand out right away. He had wavy black hair that naturally fell into place, a sharp yet gorgeous face, and a small mole just under his eye. His eyes were a deep ocean blue—striking and hard to look away from.

His family was wealthy. Respected. Feared in quiet ways. Every painting on the wall was of ancestors with sharp eyes and sharper beliefs. Every hallway carried the weight of sermons, rules, and expectations.

God was not just faith in his house.

God was control.

“Marcus,” his father’s voice echoed from another room, deep and firm. “You will attend evening prayer. And you will represent this family properly. We are not like others.”

“Yes, Father,” Marcus replied automatically.

Always properly.

Always perfectly.

But when he was alone, Marcus didn’t feel holy.

He felt watched.

He felt trapped in a life that was already decided for him.

That night, he didn’t go to prayer.

He left.

⸻

The city was quieter at night.

Not peaceful—just honest.

Marcus walked without purpose until he found himself near an old abandoned chapel at the edge of town. The kind of place people stopped seeing, even when it was right in front of them.

And that’s where he saw him.

A boy sitting on the steps like he belonged nowhere else.

Xander.

Marcus didn’t know his name yet. Only knew the shape of someone who looked like they had been hurt in ways that didn’t show on the outside—but lived underneath everything they said.

Marcus hesitated.

Then spoke anyway.

“Hey… you know you’re not supposed to be here.”

Xander let out a small breath of a laugh without looking at him.

“That’s funny,” he said quietly. “I could say the same to you.”

That made Marcus pause.

He stepped closer, slow, unsure.

“What are you doing here?” Marcus asked.

Xander finally looked at him.

And for a second, neither of them spoke.

Because something about the way they saw each other felt too direct. Too real.

“I don’t know,” Xander admitted after a moment. “Just… somewhere to breathe, I guess.”

Marcus sat down a few steps away. Not too close. Not far enough to leave.

“Same,” he said quietly.

Silence settled between them—but it didn’t feel empty.

It felt like understanding neither of them had words for yet.

Xander tilted his head back toward the sky.

“They’d hate this,” he muttered.

“Who?” Marcus asked.

“Everyone.”

That word carried more weight than it should have.

Marcus looked up too. The stars were bright, endless, indifferent to everything that felt important down here.

“Yeah,” Marcus said softly. “They would.”

Another pause.

Then Xander spoke again, quieter this time.

“You ever feel like you were born in the wrong place?”

Marcus didn’t answer immediately.

Because the truth hit too close.

“Yes,” he said finally.

Xander glanced at him again—really looked at him this time.

And something shifted.

Not loud. Not obvious.

Just recognition.

Like they both realized, at the same time, that they weren’t as alone as they thought.

The wind moved through the empty chapel grounds, brushing against broken stone and tall grass.

Marcus spoke first.

“I don’t think we’re the ones who are wrong,” he said.

Xander let out a slow breath.

“Yeah?” he asked softly.

Marcus nodded once.

“I think everything around us just decided we were.”

For the first time, Xander didn’t have a reply.

Instead, he looked back at the stars.

And Marcus looked at him.

And in the silence between them—something dangerous, something soft, something neither of them had names for yet—began to exist.

Not love.

Not yet.

But something close enough to change everything.

They stayed there under the night sky, two boys from two different worlds, both carrying lives that were never meant to understand them…

and neither of them looking away.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***