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A beat passes. “Maybe.”
My brows crash down over my eyes. He sounds… odd. Closed off, and something else I can’t pinpoint.
“I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. I—” He mumbles something I can’t make out. “Never mind, this isn’t about me.”
My confusion only grows. God, I’m way too tired for this conversation.
“Anyway, I just… wanted to make sure you guys got food. He hasn't eaten since breakfast, and—” He blows out a breath. “I doubt you ate anything either. So, take care of yourselves, okay?” He swallows with a loud click into the quiet room. “We need you. Both of you.”
An ache forms in my chest and I nod, taking care not to jostle Waylon’s sleeping form. “Thanks, man. I mean it. For…” I suck in a breath and blow it out slowly. “Thanks for being there for him when I can’t be. Shawn too.”
“Always.”
His footsteps move farther away, heading toward the door. I bite my lip, debating…
Just as the door creaks open, allowing him enough room to slip through, I whisper out his name.
Fuck it.
He pauses with his back to me.
“He’s okay, you know,” I say, wondering if it’d be better to just shut my trap. I don’t clarify who I’m referring to. “Happy, last I talked to him. Said he met someone.”
All true.
It’s impossible to tell for sure, but I swear Mason stiffens the faintest bit.
“Good,” he says after a moment, voice stilted. “That’s good.”
And with that he leaves, closing the door behind him. Darkness envelops the room once more, utterly black at first until my eyes adjust.
If they’re just getting back now with food, we must’ve not been asleep for long. Pretty sure I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow. I only vaguely remember sluggishly drying off and creeping back to Waylon’s room, our fingers and toes pruned from how long we sat huddled together in the shower.
And here I thought I was the one coming to the rescue.
I huff a humorless laugh at that and turn my head, burying my nose in his still-damp hair.
How is it that he’s right here, and I already miss him?
His arm twitches, and then he mumbles something, before rolling over onto his other side, away from me. He’s definitely unconscious, and yet he scoots back, snuggling into me.
My lips rise as I follow his lead and roll onto my side, sliding my arm over his waist. I take my other arm, which is numb and tingly from him lying on it, and shove it under the pillow under his head.
We’re both bare ass naked under the covers, having opted out of getting dressed once we shut ourselves back in here for the night. My soft cock presses against his ass as I cuddle close, spooning him.
Nose pressed to his nape, I inhale.
He’s really here.
No…I’mreally here. In LA. On the other side of the fucking country. God, has it really only been twenty-four hours since I got that phone call?
Waylon stirs slightly, mumbling something before smacking his lips. Then his breathing evens out once more, telling me he’s still fast asleep.
He’s always been such a light sleeper, so it’s weird to have the roles reversed. Kind of nice actually, seeing as I rarely get to witness something as simple as Waylon sleeping peacefully. Feeling him relaxed and boneless in my arms.
Normally, he’s either waking up at the ass crack of dawn, hours before me, ready to start his day with a jog. Or he’s gasping awake from nightmares he can’t remember, muscles rigid, fingers clenched in my arms.
Orhe’s wakingmeup from nightmares I remember all too well. Shaking me, lips pressed together in a tight, bloodless line, eyes creased with worry as all I can do is stare at him, not sure if my mind’s playing tricks on me.
