Author's Note: I don't own Yours, Mine, and Ours or any of the characters in this story. I don't own Dylan North and William Beardsley. I don't own the actors. I do own this plotline.

Warning: THIS STORY INVOLVES INCESTUOUS RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN THE CHARACTERS WILLIAM BEARDSLEY AND DYLAN NORTH. AS IN HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS. DYLAN AND WILLIAM. SLASH. Don't read if you'll be offended.

prologue.

Hidden Secrets.

Dylan North perked up in bed, pushing the light quilt away from on top of him that his mother had made. He'd been hearing the sniffs for awhile now—he was just too lazy to get up. That was, until he realized that someone was crying—and that someone was no other than William Beardsley, his new stepbrother. It worried him that of all people William was crying, because his brother was too strong and confident to be in such a distraught manner.

Dylan ran his hand through his dark brown hair, which was all mussed—seeing that he had been turning all night—a bad habit he tended to have. Oh well, a shower and brushing took care of his hair, but there was something going on that he had to take care of right now.

"Hey," he said, breaking the silence as he managed to push himself up in his bed, supported by his arm. He shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of the sleepiness, and he glanced at the digital clock that lay near his bed. 3:05 in the morning—why was William crying at this time? What was going on, and why was he crying anyway? "Will—dude, are you ok?" His voice was purely concern and care, but William didn't reply.

Instead there was a fumble from William's bed and a scuffle of blanket. The sound of haggard building filled the room, and Dylan tried to listen for his stepbrother's quiet sniffs. "Come on, Will—maybe Aldo would try that, but aren't you old enough? Come on, I'm not stupid. You're not sleeping, so what's wrong?"

There was no answer.

Dylan waited for a few seconds, and then climbed out of his bed. Stumbling over the soft carpet to the other side of his room, he climbed up on the bottom of William's bed and waited for an answer.

It still didn't come.

"Come on, Will. What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying," came the muffled answer from under the sheets. Dylan couldn't help the small grin that crossed his face. William had never been a good liar, and he wasn't starting now. He was so honest, and the fact that he was lying just ran through his voice, making him completely unbelievable.

"Come on, buddy. I'm not going to hurt you."

William abandoned his cover of indifference and pushed himself up in bed, revealing himself to his stepbrother with a choked sob. In the dark, Dylan could hardly see him, and he flicked on a lamp on William's desk that lay next to his bed.

"Oh God," said Dylan, in a worried voice.

William's appearance suddenly impacted him greatly, the gratitude stepbrother's features standing out clearly in the weak light of the lamp. William's hair was disheveled, his eyes red and blotchy from crying. His cheeks glistened with tears and his voice trembled with soft whimpers.

"Will, what's the matter?" He reached cautiously up to his stepbrother's cheek and wiped away a tear. "Come on, tell me."

Will shook his head and curled his body into a ball, his arms wrapped protectively around his legs.

"Come on, Will. I won't hurt you… please, it's ok, bro." Dylan's voice faltered as he stared at this broken individual. This scared boy was his brother—the same William that was so strong and so beautiful…

What had happened to him?

"I'm scared," William managed to whisper softly.

"Why?" Dylan bluntly asked the obvious question and then flushed. He felt so insensitive, so brash.

"There's something about me that's…" William struggled for the right words, keeping his eyes down at his hands. "Different."

"What? Come on, Will, you don't deserve to cry." Dylan suddenly felt like crying himself, the tears running through his voice.

"I… I'm in love," William choked through his tears. "I'm scared, Dylan. I'm scared…"

"Why? Come on, Will, it can't be that bad. Does she not like you back or something?"

"It's not a girl, Dylan. I'm gay." There was a skittish finality in William's voice.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the brothers.

"Oh," whispered Dylan. Then… "Who is it?"

William looked at him, his eyes glistening with tears. "I'm gay, Dylan, and I'm in love with you."

Author's Note: It was short, but it's just the prologue. Review for more, maybe?

-Falling With Grace