Page 3 of Full Body Hit: Part 2
“Oh.” Chase rubbed cheeks. “I should probably go take a nap in bed.”
“Sounds good.”
Auston watched him leave the room, yearning down to his core.
***
Morning dawned sickly, thin light oozing from the windows, sky overcast outside.
Auston wasn’t sure what part of him was hurting. His hip, yes, but it went deeper, a fatigue that made even blinking difficult.
He forced himself up anyway. Managed to wash and dress and limp to the kitchen, ears straining for signs of Chase.
There was nothing. It was only when he was finishing making breakfast that Chase appeared, shuffling closer, hair a mess, lips red as if he’d been chewing on them during the night.
Auston’s stomach swooped.
Fuck.God. He could just reach out, stroke Chase’s pale cheek. Kiss him despite morning breath. Draw him near, feel his warmth, the hard and soft planes of his body.
The want almost took over for a moment, body straining with it, muscles tense and pleading.
“Morning,” Chase greeted.
“Morning.” Auston’s voice was all gravel, scraping his throat. He coughed, trying to clear it. “You feeling better?”
Chase gave a little shrug. “Yeah.”
Auston forced a smile. “Good. There’s some food here for you if you’re hungry.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Auston turned to the stove. There was a pause.
“Areyouokay?”
Auston twitched, glancing at Chase questioningly.
“You look kind of…not good? As in, obviously you look good. I mean—you look a little sick,” Chase stuttered, turning red.
Auston snorted at the kid’s awkwardness. “I’m fine.”
If it were just Chase, he would leave it there. Close the conversation off. He didn’t need to share his problems, especially not with acquaintances.
But. This was Charlie. Here, right now, asking him if he was okay. It was difficult to face the truth of that, but if Auston wanted a chance at this, he had to bridge who he was with Charlie, and who he was with Chase.
“I…didn’t sleep well,” Auston added. “And that fucks my hip up.”
Chase straightened, sleep fading from his face. “Oh. You—you really shouldn’t be standing, then.”
Before Auston could react to that, Chase was on his side of the kitchen island, fumbling the spatula from his grip.
Auston got out of the way out of pure surprise and self-preservation, and he couldn’t help but protest.
Chase shushed him, suddenly transformed from a quiet, mousy boy to the man Auston had gotten to know over the phone.
“Sit down,” Chase ordered.
Auston couldn’t think beyond simply following orders.
