“Nothing,” Keegan choked out frantically, his voice muffled against his sweatpants, sounding entirely ruined, raspy, and thick.
He tried rubbing his cheeks against the fabric to erase the evidence, but it was useless.
“Just…
my head.”
Ashton didn’t buy the brush-off for a single second.
He set the boba tea down on the nightstand with a sharp thud and immediately stepped into the space between them, sliding onto the mattress right beside Kira without a second thought.
Without asking, Ashton reached out and caught Keegan by the chin, his warm, strong fingers gently but firmly forcing Keegan’s face up into the dim ambient light of the room.
“Keegs, look at me,” Ashton murmured, his voice dropping into that quiet, genuine tone that always melted Keegan’s resolve.
Up close, there was nowhere left to hide.
Ashton stared directly down at his best friend’s wrecked features—the bloodshot eyes, the damp, clumped lashes, the crimson flush spreading across his throat, and the fresh moisture still clinging to his cheeks.
Ashton’s hazel eyes didn’t break away from Keegan’s face for even a fraction of a second.
His gaze slowly traced every line of strain on Keegan’s features, taking in the red-rimmed eyes, the quivering lower lip, and the absolute wreck of his best friend’s composure.
“Kira,” Ashton said quietly, his voice calm but firm, his thumb still resting near the edge of Keegan’s jaw without looking up at her.
“Can you head back downstairs?
I’ve got him.”
Kira stiffened on the mattress, her heart sinking.
She looked between the two of them—at Ashton’s intense, unyielding focus on Keegan, and at Keegan, who was visibly panicking under the weight of that attention.
“Ash, don’t worry about it,” Kira said quickly, trying to keep her tone light while subtly shielding Keegan.
“I’ve already been taking care of him.
You should go back down and enjoy the beach with Chloe and the guys.
I really don’t mind staying—”
“No, Kira, it’s fine,” Ashton interrupted softly, though the edge of authority in his tone left no room for argument.
He finally spared her a quick glance, his expression serious.
“Tell everyone else to just keep enjoying the day.
I’m gonna stay right here with Keegs until he’s okay.”
He paused, glancing down at the dark carpet before looking back at her.
“If it gets late, tell them not to wait up for us and just get some sleep.
We have to leave early tomorrow anyway, and it’s going to be a long drive back.”
Kira bit the inside of her cheek.
She glanced down at Keegan, whose head was pulled away again, staring blankly at the dark duvet as if he wished the mattress would swallow him whole.
She knew how much torture this was going to be for him—stuck in a pitch-black room alone with the guy he was desperately trying not to love—but she couldn’t force the issue without raising Ashton’s suspicions or anger.
“Alright…” Kira whispered reluctantly, sliding off the edge of the bed.
She leaned down near Keegan, resting a tender hand on his shoulder for a brief second.
“I hope you get better soon, okay, Keegs?
Text me if you need anything at all.”
Keegan gave a tiny, almost unnoticeable nod, his throat far too tight to squeeze out a single word.
With one final, warning look thrown toward Ashton, Kira turned and padded quietly across the bedroom carpet, exiting the Suite and letting the heavy mahogany door click shut behind her.
The moment the lock engaged, an absolute, suffocating silence settled over the darkened room.
Ashton turned all his weight back toward Keegan on the mattress, shifting closer until their knees were almost touching in the dim ambient light.
“Alright,” Ashton murmured, reaching out to gently tug the heavy duvet down from Keegan’s trembling hands.
“Kira’s gone.
Talk to me, Keegs.
What’s actually going on?”
Keegan turned his head sharply away, staring rigidly at the dark wall opposite the bed.
His jaw clenched so tight it ached, his lips pressed into a thin, white line as he refused to let a single word slip out. New chapters come out on g.com first.
The silence stretched between them, heavy, suffocating, and agonizing.
Ashton didn’t accept the quiet.
He shifted closer, pulling his legs onto the mattress until his thigh was pressed flush against Keegan’s, invading his space with that effortless, boundary-less physical proximity that usually comforted Keegan—but right now felt like burning iron against his skin.
Reaching out once more, Ashton’s long fingers wrapped around Keegan’s chin, his grip firm yet tender as he forced Keegan’s face back around to face him.
“Look at me,” Ashton insisted softly, his tone unyielding.
Keegan had no choice.
He blinked through a fresh wave of heat, his dark, bloodshot eyes reluctantly clashing with Ashton’s warm hazel ones.
Up close, Ashton took in the full extent of Keegan’s face, the puffy, red-rimmed eyelids, the damp lashes sticking together, and the quiet, uncontrollable shudder still running through Keegan’s entire frame.
Ashton’s brow pulled down into a deep, troubled frown, his thumb instinctively stroking over the side of Keegan’s jawline.
“Keegan Sterling,” Ashton murmured, his voice dropping into a low, serious register laced with concern.
“What’s wrong?
You’re making me worried, man…
this isn’t just a headache, is it?”
The sound of his full name falling from Ashton’s lips—spoken with so much raw, genuine affection—sent a sharp, agonizing stab straight through Keegan’s heart.
Panicking, Keegan violently pulled his chin out of Ashton’s hold, frantically attempting to bury his face back down into the crook of his knees.
He grabbed the heavy duvet with shaking hands, trying to pull it up like a shield to hide his wrecked expression from the only person he wanted and feared seeing it.
“It is!” Keegan rasped out, his voice cracking horribly under the strain of his own desperate lie.
“It’s just…
it’s just my head, Ash!
Nothing else, I swear!
Just—just leave it alone!”
“Keegs, stop,” Ashton said firmly, catching the top edge of the blanket before Keegan could hide under it and gently pulling it back down.
Instead of backing off, Ashton leaned in even closer, bringing his face mere inches from Keegan’s, his warm breath fanning against Keegan’s flushed, tear-stained cheek.
“I’ve known you since the day you were born,” Ashton murmured, searching Keegan’s eyes with a relentless, protective focus.
“You don’t break down like this over a migraine, Keegs.
Something happened.
Did someone say something to you?
Did I do something?”
Keegan’s lips stayed tightly sealed, his jaw locked so hard his teeth throbbed.
Did I do something?
The question echoed inside Keegan’s head like a physical explosion.
He wanted to laugh.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to grab Ashton by the shoulders and yell at him until his throat bled—You do it every single day.
You do it every time you touch me like this.
You do it every time you talk about her, every time you act like I’m just your brother while you rip my fucking heart out.
But he didn’t say a word.
He just sat there in the suffocating darkness, his chest heaving with silent, shuddering gasps as he stared blindly past Ashton’s shoulder.
The prolonged, heavy silence only fueled Ashton’s frustration.
“Keegs,” Ashton breathed out, his voice laced with a dangerous mixture of worry and impatience.
When Keegan still refused to answer, Ashton let out a low, rough exhale.
Without an ounce of hesitation, he bridged the small distance between them.
He threw his arms around Keegan’s shoulders, dragging him forward into a sudden, tight, suffocating embrace.
Keegan went instantly, entirely rigid.
That particular scent of amber, fresh ocean air, and his usual expensive cologne hit Keegan’s senses in a devastating wave.
It was then another scent lingered on Ashton, the same one taht was on him when he walked into the bedroom at three in the morning—the scent of a guy who had spent the night with someone else.
“Talk to me, man,” Ashton murmured into Keegan’s damp hair, his strong arms wrapping firmly around Keegan’s back, rubbing steady, protective circles against his spine.
“You’re scaring the hell out of me.
If someone in the group said something to you, or if some asshole at the arcade got under your skin, just tell me.
I’ll handle it.”
Every touch was liquid fire.
Every squeeze of Ashton’s arms was a fresh twist of the knife.
Keegan’s heart hammered so wildly against his ribs he was terrified Ashton could feel it vibrating through his chest.
The phantom touch from his own desperate, shameful delusion in the shower came crashing back over him, blurring violently with the reality of the real Ashton holding him so tightly, so casually, so innocently.
It was pure, unadulterated torture.
Ashton was giving him everything—his time, his comfort, his fierce protection—everything except the one thing Keegan was dying for.
A weak, involuntary sob hitched in Keegan’s throat.
He tried to push himself back, his hands pressing weakly against Ashton’s chest to create space, but his hands were trembling so violently he couldn’t find any strength.
“Ash…
don’t,” Keegan rasped, his voice raw and destroyed against Ashton’s collarbone.
“Don’t…
please…”
“I’m not letting go until you tell me what’s wrong,”
Ashton shifted his weight on the mattress, unwrapping his arms from around Keegan’s shoulders only to reach up and frame both sides of Keegan’s face with his hands.
His palms were warm and firm against Keegan’s flushed cheeks, holding his head still, leaving Keegan with absolutely nowhere left to hide.
“Look at me, Keegs,” Ashton pleaded, forcing Keegan to lock eyes with him in the dim, shadowed room.
Ashton’s hazel eyes were wide with genuine, desperate concern.
“I’ve known you my whole life,” Ashton murmured, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his anxiety.
“You aren’t that easy of a person to just break down and start crying like this.
You never have been.
So please…
just talk to me.
Tell me what’s wrong.”
Keegan’s breath hitched in his chest, his dark eyes searching Ashton’s handsome, completely clueless face.
“Did I do something wrong?” Ashton continued softly, his thumbs gently stroking over Keegan’s cheekbones.
“Maybe…
maybe I did something that upset you and I didn’t even realize it?
If I did, just tell me, man.
You know I’d never hurt you on purpose.”
The sound of those words—spoken with such earnest, pure affection—seemed to shatter whatever last remaining thread of self-control Keegan was holding onto.
The frantic trembling in Keegan’s shoulders slowly stopped.
Something shifted in the heavy air between them, settling into a sudden, eerie calm.
Keegan reached up with one hand, aggressively wiping away the remaining dampness from his cheeks and under his eyes.
He didn’t pull away from Ashton’s touch this time.
Instead, he met Ashton’s intense gaze directly, staring straight into those hazel eyes without flinching, without looking away for even a single second.
The raw, agonizing pain in Keegan’s eyes narrowed into a desperate, dangerous resolve.
“Sleep with me,” Keegan said.
The words fell between them like a physical weight, heavy, clear, and ringing out in the quiet bedroom
Ashton froze, his hands lingering on the sides of Keegan’s face as his mind struggled to process what he had just heard.
“What…?” Ashton whispered, blinking in utter confusion.