Keegan took a ragged, shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling violently under the freezing spray.
As the heavy, intoxicating haze of intense delusion finally began to clear, his eyes focused on the bottom of the shower enclosure.
Through the fogged glass, he could see the faint outline of a pair of shoes standing on the bathmat just outside the bathroom door.
Slowly, trembling from head to toe, Keegan looked back at the space directly in front of him.
There was no one there.
No hands clawing at the tile wall.
No flushed, wet skin pressed against his chest.
No quiet, broken moans echoing off the marble.
He was completely, devastatingly alone in the stall.The realization hit him like a physical blow, turning his stomach completely upside down.
He looked down at his own wet, shaking hands.
His dick was finally softening, the agonizing ache giving way to a sickening wave of guilt and shame.
Plastered across the lower glass panel and swirling down the drain beneath his feet was the messy, undeniable evidence of his own desperate, solo release.
A sharp spike of pure panic flared in his chest, making his heart hammer wildly against his ribs.
“Keegs?” The voice called out again from outside the locked door.
Now, stripped of the feverish fantasy playing out in his head, the sound was crystal clear.
It was Ashton.
The real Ashton.
“Keegan?
Are you in the shower?”
Keegan slapped both hands over his face, violently wiping away the stream of water as his pulse roared in his ears.
“Uh—Ash…” Keegan choked out, his voice wrecked, thin, and raspy from the quiet moans he had been suppressing.
He cleared his throat frantically, trying to force his tone to sound normal over the rush of the spray.
“I…
I—I just stepped in.
I’ll be out soon!”
“Oh, okay,” Ashton’s voice drifted through the wood.
A second later, the sharp click of the outer bathroom lock opened.
The door swung open, and heavy footsteps padded across the marble floor toward the vanity.
Ashton hadn’t stepped inside the glass shower stall— he was just standing in the main bathroom area.
“I brought some aspirin and a bottle of water for your headache,” Ashton said softly, setting the items down on the marble counter near the sink.
“I hope it’s not too bad, man.
You really had me worried.” Keegan shut off the shower faucet.
The sudden, absolute silence in the bathroom was suffocating.
Grabbing a massive white bath towel from the interior rack, Keegan wrapped it tightly around his waist, drying his hands hastily on the corner.
He took a deep, steadying breath, trying to force his trembling legs to hold his weight before pushing the glass shower door open and stepping out into the cool bathroom air.
Steam billowed out behind him as he stood there, wet hair plastered to his forehead, dripping onto the bathmat.
He couldn’t bring himself to meet Ashton’s eyes directly.
Ashton was leaning back against the door, wearing his dry clothes from the arcade, looking at Keegan with nothing but genuine, innocent concern written across his features.
“Thanks, Ash,” Keegan muttered, rubbing the back of his wet neck as he stared down at the floor tile.
“Sorry about earlier…
it just hit me really hard out of nowhere.” Ashton studied him carefully, his hazel eyes lingering on Keegan’s flushed face and tense, rigid shoulders.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Keegs.
You sure a hot shower was a good idea if you’re dizzy?”
Keegan reached out, his fingers brushing against Ashton’s warm hand as he took the bottle.
The tiny, innocent point of contact sent a jolt of electricity straight to his spine, bringing the vivid imagery of his delusion crashing back into his mind.
“Yeah,” Keegan swallowed hard, his throat tight as he backed up a step.
“Yeah, I’m…
I’m good.
Just need to lie down.”
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Ten minutes later, Keegan walked into the bedroom, now pulled together in a pair of gray sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt.
His damp hair was tousled from a towel, though a few wet strands still clung to his forehead.
Ashton was sprawled sideways across the king-sized bed, one arm propped under his head as he lazily scrolled through his phone.
When the bathroom door clicked open, he looked up, tossing his phone onto the duvet.
“Feeling any better?” Ashton asked, searching Keegan’s face.
“A little,” Keegan lied, though as the post-adrenaline crash set in, a very real, dull throb had actually begun to pulse behind his temples.
The exhaustion of suppressing his panic, combined with the guilt of his wild hallucination, was finally taking a physical toll.
He walked over to the nightstand where he had set down the aspirin packet and the water bottle.
With shaking hands, he popped two tablets out of the foil blister pack, tossed them into his mouth, and took a long, heavy gulp of water to wash them down.
Ashton chuckled softly from the bed, watching him.
“Irony of ironies, huh?
You lie about a headache to escape the arcade, and your brain decides to actually give you one to punish you.”
‘Oh right Ashton found out I lied about my headache, after all what could I possibly ever hide from my BestFriend’
Keegan’s heart skipped a beat before he realized, capping the water bottle with a sharp crack.
“Yeah…
universe has a sick sense of humor,” Keegan muttered, sinking heavily onto the edge of the opposite side of the bed and resting his elbows on his knees.
He buried his face in his hands, pressing his palms firmly against his aching eyes.
“My head is actually pounding now.” Ashton’s expression softened into genuine concern.
He slid off the bed, walking over with quiet, effortless steps until he was standing right in front of Keegan.
“Hey,” Ashton said gently, reaching out to pat Keegan’s shoulder—a completely casual, friendly gesture from a guy who had no idea how much power he held, making Keegan’s breath hitch in his throat.
“Lie down and close your eyes okay.
I’ll turn off the main lights and head back out.”
Keegan looked up through his fingers, his dark eyes catching Ashton’s warm, effortless hazel gaze just as his best friend turned as if to leave.
“You don’t have to leave, Ash,” Keegan rasped softly, the words slipping out of his chest before his brain could stop them.
Ashton stopped dead in his tracks.
A soft, boyish smile played at the corners of his lips as he looked back down at Keegan lying on the of the mattress.
Ashton was the definition of a golden-boy main character—handsome, popular, completely wrapped up in his own perfect life with his gorgeous girlfriend, and totally, hopelessly blind to the way his best friend looked at him.
Instead of stepping back toward the bedroom door, Ashton leaned down slowly, bringing his face mere inches from Keegan’s.
He lowered his voice into a low, conspiratorial whisper, his warm breath fanning directly against the sensitive shell of Keegan’s ear. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“Well…
actually…” Ashton murmured, a playful, secretive glint dancing in his eyes.
“I’m not exactly going out.”
Keegan’s breath hitched dead in his chest.
At the sudden, suffocating proximity, a violent rush of heat flooded up his neck, turning the tips of his ears a bright, burning crimson.
Every nerve ending in his body screamed—still raw, oversensitive, and utterly wrecked from the vivid phantom touch of his own feverish delusion in the shower just minutes before.
It was agonizing torture, having the real Ashton leaning over him like this, smelling like amber and his usual expensive cologne.
Ashton leaned in a fraction closer, completely, brutally oblivious to the devastating effect his touch was having, and chuckled softly right against Keegan’s skin.
“I’m sneaking over to Suite 501,” Ashton whispered, a smug, cocky smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Gonna go have a little fun with Chloe…
since Kira’s still out hanging with Jace.”
The words hit Keegan like a bucket of ice water, instantly freezing the blood in his veins.
“Chloe…?” Keegan managed to choke out, his voice tight, raspy, and completely strained.
He forced his gaze straight ahead at the wall, desperately avoiding Ashton’s eyes.
“Yeah,” Ashton grinned, pulling back just enough to look down at him, winking playfully with total, unabashed golden-boy confidence.
“You remember how that receptionist made a whole big deal about not mixing with the girls?
Well, Kira’s still out with Jace, so Chloe has the whole suite to herself right now.
Perfect timing, dude.”
Ashton let out a low, breathy laugh, shaking his head as he added casually, “Honestly keegs, my dick is literally about to burst.” The crude, unfiltered phrase hung heavily in the air between them, twisting like a rusty knife in Keegan’s gut.
The contrast was brutal and devastating.
Here was Ashton, casually bragging about his sex life and venting his arousal to the one person who was secretly drowning in a silent, agonizing obsession for him.
Ashton was the ultimate red flag—completely boundary-less, utterly oblivious to the way he leaned into Keegan’s space, and ruthlessly careless with Keegan’s heart while treating him like just ‘his BestFriend and only brother.’
“So…
yeah,” Ashton continued smoothly, completely unbothered as he unbuttoned the top of his shirt and ran a hand through his hair.
“I figure I’d take advantage of the quiet while you sleep off that headache.
You mind keeping the suite door unlocked so I can slip back in later without waking you?”
Keegan swallowed down the bitter, burning ache in his throat, forcing a stiff, practiced nod that felt completely hollow.
“Yeah…
sure, Ash,” Keegan rasped out, his throat raw.
He pulled the duvet higher over his shoulders, adjusting his position on the mattress so Ashton wouldn’t see his hands trembling against the sheets.
“Do…
do whatever you want.”
“Appreciate it, Blue-line,” Ashton said warmly, putting his weight into a quick, affectionate squeeze on Keegan’s ankle through the heavy blanket before straightening up.
“Take those pills again and get some sleep, alright?
I’ll be quiet when I come back.”
Ashton slipped silently out of the bedroom, not looking back once, the suite door clicking softly shut behind him as he snuck out into the hallway toward the following room to 501.
The silence that settled over the suite was immediate, absolute, and suffocating.
“Have fun, Ash…” he whispered, his raspy voice fading into a thread of pure exhaustion.
“I’ll…
I’ll leave the door unlocked.”