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Yeah.
Clothes. Other stuff. Next steps.
Fuckingmove.
He did—put his suitcase on the bed, and threw in jeans, T-shirts,and jumpers, followed by pants, socks, and the button-ups he’d packed for dinner service. Ski jacket, gloves, a couple of scarves. Workout clothes. Even without the shoes, his suitcase was bulging. How had he managed to fit everything in on the way over? He must have picked up some extra baggage since then—oh, the symbolism.
That was when the front door opened.
“Hey,” Adrian called. “Forgot my—”
Sudden silence.
Eric forced some air into his lungs and turned away from the bed. Adrian stood frozen on the threshold to the room, eyes wide. They stared at each other for a second that twisted through Eric’s gut. Then Adrian leaned sideways against the doorframe, something like exhaustion blurring the contours of his voice. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t seem pleased. Why wasn’t he pleased? Had he hoped to end things himself, and now Eric robbed him of the satisfaction? But Adrian wasn’t cruel.
“I mean…” Eric raised a hand and dropped it again. “What does itlooklike I’m doing?”
Adrian exhaled in a hiss. Sunlight sharpened his features, and fuck, he was beautiful. It hurt how much Eric wanted him.
“Why?” Adrian asked.
“I thought I’d preempt your get-out-of-jail-free card.” Eric said it even though it felt a little off, like he might have made a mistake. Adrian had barely looked at him since yesterday though, and he hadn’t asked for his daily line, and they’d had to stop a few times during their morning run because he’d got stupidly drunk with Martin the night before.
“My get-out-of-jail-free card?” Adrian shook his head. “I’ve no idea what the fuck you’re even saying.”
Eric tried for a cutting smile. “‘Anytime one of us wants to stop,’” he quoted, “‘done. No questions asked.’”
“You think I’m…” Adrian trailed off, his eyebrows pulling together.
“Tired of this,” Eric finished for him, and looked away. “Tired of me.”
“I’m not.” Adrian made it sound clean and simple. Likehellit was.
“Could have fooled me,” Eric told him, and he should keep packing, right? His dignity, that’s what he’d meant to protect—only he’d done a bang-up job of hiding how much he cared, so maybe it was too late. But also, Adrian didn’t act like someone who couldn’t wait to get rid of Eric, so…
“The hotel’s in trouble,” Adrian said.
The … hotel?
Eric jolted around. “What do you mean—the hotel’s in trouble?”
Adrian’s chest rose on an intake of air. He walked past Eric to sit on the edge of the bed and tucked his hands between his knees. For a few seconds, he was silent before he glanced up. His voice seemed distant, like a landscape observed through frosted glass. “There’s a problem with wood rot.”
“I don’t…” Eric swallowed. “What does that mean?”
It couldn’t be bad. Surely it couldn’t be bad.
“Turns out we had a leaking water tank, up in the attic. And then this fungus was like, ‘oh, thanks, how nice of you to invite me in! Think I’ll settle in for a bit.’” Adrian’s attempt at humour fell flat, at odds with the bleak look in his eyes. “I don’t know how bad it is—there’s an expert that’ll come in next week, see how far it’s spread. The infected wood will have to be replaced. And if it’s bad…” He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and lifted one shoulder, eyes darting away. “I don’t have the money for an extensive renovation.”
How much do you need?
Eric choked back the question. He sat down by Adrian’s side, close enough for their elbows to touch, and turned to face him. “I’m sorry. That’s… You must be so worried.”
“Honestly?” Adrian snorted out a laugh that seemed to get stuck in his throat. His eyes were wet. “I’m a mess.”
And I’m in love with you.
