Jock Next Bed (BL)
Chapter 196: Cory

Chapter 196: Cory

The headline burned into his vision like fire.

"Wealthy Heir Christopher Owen’s Sexuality Under Scrutiny—Roommate Allegedly Involved"

Beneath the title was a blurry photo of him and Sky—one Chris didn’t even remember being taken. They were standing close, Sky’s face partially turned toward him, the way he always did when he was teasing him about something. It was nothing, just a moment between friends. But in the wrong hands, it became evidence.

Chris felt his breath leave him.

Suddenly, all the times Sky always tried to talk about keeping his reputation clean flashed in his head.

This was in no way keeping his reputation clean.

Chris barely heard the rest of the words Wilson said. His fingers tightened around the phone as he redialed Sky’s number. Still not reachable.

Again. Not reachable.

His breathing grew heavier, his chest tightening. The beeping of his IV machine quickened, and his smartwatch vibrated against his wrist—his heart rate spiking.

Wilson reached over and yanked the phone from his hand. "Chris, calm the fuck down."

Chris turned on him, his expression wild. "How am I supposed to calm down when I can’t reach him?! What if—" He swallowed, his voice breaking. "What if he’s—"

Wilson grabbed his shoulder and gave him a light shake. "He’s alive. Don’t jump to the worst conclusions."

Chris forced himself to take a deep breath, but it barely helped. His mind was racing.

If this was in the internet, definitely, word must have spread in town. His family must have also seen it.

What if Sky’s father had hurt him? What if he’d said things that made Sky think he had to cut Chris off? What if Sky WANTED to cut him off?

He had lied to him. Deceived him and now dragged him into this mess.

Chris’s stomach twisted violently at the thought.

Wilson sighed. "Look, I know this is a lot, but you have way bigger things to deal with right now. You’ve been drowning in problems left and right."

Chris glared at him. "And you think this isn’t a big deal to me?"

Wilson held up a hand. "I’m not saying that. But right now, you’re stuck in a hospital bed. You can’t do shit. So maybe stop spiraling before your heart literally explodes or something."

Chris pressed his hands over his face, inhaling shakily.

Wilson sat back down. "Besides, you’ve got distractions coming your way. Cory called earlier."

Chris frowned. "Who’s Cory?"

Wilson stared at him like he’d lost his mind. "Are you serious? Your crazily good-looking but boring-as-hell cousin!"

Chris blinked. "Oh. That guy. Why?"

Wilson shrugged. "Beats me why he’s coming. Maybe he’s come to bless you with some pointless motivational speech about perseverance."

Chris groaned. The last thing he needed was Mr. Perfect swooping in with well-meaning but empty words.

"I’m not in the mood to see him—"

"He already called like some 10 minutes ago to ask for your room number. I think he’s already here. Maybe he got lost somewhere—"

Before Wilson could finish, a sharp knock cut through the room.

Knock. Knock.

A crisp, measured voice followed. "Excuse me." The tone was precise, deliberate—like a professor about to deliver a lecture or a lawyer entering a courtroom.

Chris and Wilson exchanged glances.

Then, the door glided open.

Cory.

Cory Vickers.

He stood in the doorway like he’d walked straight out of a magazine. Tall, athletic yet refined, hazel eyes sharp and observant. His navy-blue trousers were pressed to perfection, his button-up shirt pristine, and his shoes polished to a mirror shine, Chris could almost see his reflection in them. Even his jet-black hair—combed and parted with surgical precision—looked like it had never met a gust of wind.

Holy shit.

When did he get so...

Cory’s gaze swept across the room, taking in every detail before landing on Chris. His face didn’t betray a single emotion, but something flickered in his eyes—something Chris couldn’t quite place.

"Christopher." Cory inclined his head slightly. "You look..." His gaze flickered over the hospital gown, the IV, the dark circles under Chris’s eyes. A pause. Then, in his usual measured tone—

"...Uncharacteristically disheveled."

Despite himself, Chris let out a dry laugh. "Gee, thanks. I’ll be sure to book a spa day the moment I escape this place."

Cory gave him a look so flat and unreadable, it might as well have been carved from stone. ’I was not joking’ look.

Without a word, he handed Chris the neatly wrapped gift bag he’d been holding.

Chris hesitated before taking it, his brows furrowing in surprise. They had never been particularly close and only met once a while during some gatherings. They had also attended the same high school. Cory had been a year below him, and the last he’d heard, the guy was off at the Elite University—a completely different league, the kind of place only the ultra-privileged attended unless they others were really good and got full scholarships. Owen-owned, of course.

Curious, Chris opened the bag and pulled out—of all things—a book.

He stared at it, then slowly turned to Wilson.

Wilson took one look and looked like he was struggling not to laugh.

Chris stared at the book in his hands, flipping it over like it might reveal some hidden joke.

A book.

Cory had walked in here—dressed like a damn CEO on casual Friday—just to give him a book?

Chris glanced at Wilson, who took one look at the cover and burst into laughter. A loud, shameless guffaw that echoed through the hospital room.

"Oh my God," Wilson wheezed, gripping his stomach. "This is so... Cory."

Chris arched a brow and turned the book over.

The Art of Resilience: How to Overcome Hardship and Build a Stronger Mindset.

Chris stared. Then looked at Cory. Then back at the book.

Cory remained perfectly composed. "I thought it might be helpful."

Chris blinked. "Helpful?"

Wilson practically choked on his laughter. "Dude, this is a self-help book. Cory really said, ’Here, build some character.’"

Chris opened his mouth, closed it, then slowly set the book down on his lap. "I just had the worst week of my life, and you brought me... homework?"