Chapter 9

Ethan stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling behind him as he ran a small towel through his damp hair. A large towel hung loosely around his waist, clinging to his hips as droplets of water traced lazy paths down. His eyes landed on the neatly folded clothes Alex had left him earlier—a simple white tee and black pants.

He scoffed, shaking his head slightly. Of course Alex had picked something plain and efficient. No unnecessary flair, no personality, just clean, sharp simplicity. With a sigh, he pulled on the clothes, adjusting the hem of the shirt before his fingers brushed against the fabric.

He hesitated.

Slowly, almost absently, he pinched a section of the shirt between his fingers and brought it to his face, breathing in.

Familiar.

His eyes fluttered shut for just a moment. That crisp scent, something distinctly Alex, wrapped around him, comforting yet unsettling in its familiarity. How had he come to love it? That thought alone sent an unwelcome rush of heat to his face.

Lost in the moment, a soft knock at the door made him jerk. His heart hammered against his ribs as his pulse raced, startled out of whatever trance he'd fallen into.

Dragging a hand to his chest, he forced a steadying breath. 

"What is wrong with you, Ethan? Pull yourself together." He muttered under his breath before turning toward the door.

Ethan opened the door, revealing Alex standing there, a first aid kit in hand. His sharp eyes immediately traveled downward, lingering for just a moment as he took in the sight before him—Ethan dressed in his clothes, the fabric fitting him in a way Alex hadn't expected.

Ethan noticed the stare, a flicker of nervousness creeping up his spine. But instead of letting it show, he smirked. "I hope you're not getting any ideas."

Just like that, the warmth in Alex's gaze vanished. His expression turned cold again, as if shutting something away. "In your dreams." His voice was clipped, controlled.

Without another word, he walked past Ethan and settled onto the bed, lightly tapping the spot beside him.

Ethan huffed, rolling his eyes before shutting the door and crossing the room to sit in front of him.

Alex opened the first aid kit, retrieving a small tube of ointment. With careful fingers, he dabbed it onto Ethan's busted lips, his movements surprisingly gentle—contradicting the sharpness in his tone from earlier.

Ethan tried to focus on anything but Alex. The air felt oddly thick, and he willed himself to stare at the wall, the floor, anywhere but the man tending to him. But despite his efforts, his gaze betrayed him. His eyes flicked upwards, drawn to Alex's face.

Sharp jawline. Intense eyes. That quiet restrained confidence.

Handsome.

Ethan swallowed hard.

What the hell was wrong with him?

After tending to Ethan's busted lip, Alex took his hand, guiding it onto his lap with quiet precision. Without a word, he rolled up Ethan's sleeve, exposing the fresh cut on his arm.

Ethan hissed in pain as Alex treated the wound, his touch careful yet firm. The antiseptic stung, and he fought the urge to pull away. Alex, however, remained focused, working efficiently despite Ethan's occasional winces. Soon, he was done. He carefully placed a bandage over the cut, smoothing it down before letting go.

Ethan glanced at him, irritation flickering across his face, but beneath it, reluctant gratitude. He exhaled sharply. "Thanks."

It wasn't exactly heartfelt, but it was something.

Alex gave a small nod, then leaned back. "Take better care of yourself." His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it—something unreadable. "Why do you keep putting yourself in these situations? You wouldn't be here if you just stopped going out with people who get you hurt."

Ethan stiffened. His expression darkened. "That's none of your business."

A tense silence settled between them. Then, Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Wait... How did you even know where I was?" His voice was sharp with suspicion. "Are you spying on me? Tracking me somehow?"

Alex didn't flinch at the accusation. Instead, he calmly packed the first aid kit, securing each item before standing up. "There's food in the fridge." He said, brushing off the question entirely. "Microwave it if you get hungry. I hope you can do that."

Ethan blinked. "Did you just ignore me?"

Alex moved toward the door, clearly intending to leave. Ethan stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "No. You're not walking away. Answer me."

Alex exhaled, gaze cool. "Go rest. We've both had a long day. We'll deal with this tomorrow."

Ethan scoffed. "Forget it.'' He crossed his arms, frustration simmering beneath his skin. "Do whatever you want, but stay out of my business."

Alex didn't respond. He didn't argue. He simply walked past Ethan and left.

*****

Later that night.....

The sound of heavy rain woke Alex from his sleep. He sat up, feeling uneasy, though he didn't know why. Something inside him told him to check on Ethan.

Getting out of bed, he walked to Ethan's room. He knocked once. No answer.

He knocked again. Still nothing.

A feeling of worry grew in his chest. He tried the doorknob—it turned easily. The door was open.

Stepping inside, Alex looked toward the bed. Empty.

His heart skipped. "Ethan?" He called out, louder this time.

At first, there was silence. Then, a soft voice broke through.

"Alex...."

It was weak, shaky.

Alex followed the sound to the corner of the room, and froze. Ethan was curled up, hands covering his ears, his body shaking.

Alex rushed to his side, kneeling beside him. "Ethan?" His voice was gentle, but full of concern.

Ethan didn't move. His breath was fast and uneven, his whole body tense.

Another loud clap of thunder echoed outside, and Ethan flinched hard, shrinking further into himself.

Alex frowned. He had never seen Ethan like this.

Slowly, carefully, Alex placed his hand on Ethan's shoulder. "Hey, you're okay. It's just the storm."

Ethan didn't respond, but Alex stayed close. He didn't push, didn't ask questions, he just stayed.

And little by little, Ethan's breathing started to slow.

The storm continued to rage outside, but inside the room, Alex stayed beside him, a steady presence, refusing to let the fear swallow him whole.

The storm had finally begun to settle, the thunder distant now, just a low rumble in the sky. The rain still fell, but gently, no longer fierce.

Alex let out a slow breath, feeling the tension in the room shift, though Ethan still sat curled up beside him, his body stiff, his breathing uneven.

"You should get back to bed." Alex said gently. "I'll help you."

Ethan shook his head almost instantly. "I don't want to be alone."

His voice was quiet but firm, and Alex could hear the fear behind it. Without hesitation, he nodded. "Then I'll stay."

Ethan looked at him for a moment, searching his face as though trying to decide if Alex truly meant it. Whatever he saw seemed to ease something inside him, because he gave a small nod in return.

Alex helped him up, steadying him as they walked to the bed. He pulled back the covers, guiding Ethan into the warmth of the blankets before settling in beside him, keeping some space between them.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, Ethan's hand reached for his.

Alex froze. The touch was tentative—hesitant—but it lingered, waiting. He flinched slightly, instinctively, but he didn't move away.

"It's just for tonight." Ethan whispered. "Just this once."

Alex said nothing. He simply gave Ethan's hand a gentle squeeze, a quiet reassurance that he wasn't going anywhere.

Within moments, Ethan's breath evened out, his body relaxing, exhaustion finally pulling him into sleep.

Alex stayed still, his gaze tracing the gentle lines of Ethan's face. In sleep, the tension had melted away—no signs of fear, just quiet, peaceful rest.

His thoughts drifted dangerously, lingering where they shouldn't. He caught himself, exhaling sharply before whispering, "He's your sister's fiance.... and you're straight!" A reminder. A boundary he wasn't supposed to cross.

He glanced down at their locked hands, the warmth pressing against his skin. He should pull away, he wanted to, but something in him refused.

With a final sigh, he shut his eyes. Forced himself to sleep.

But even in the silence, the storm inside him hadn't truly passed.