Jock Next Bed (BL)
Chapter 211: "You make me breathe easier"

Chapter 211: "You make me breathe easier"

Dinner wasn’t nearly as awkward as Sky had braced himself for.

Chris’s parents asked questions—mostly harmless ones. About school. Classes. His interests. Chris, being Chris, took over before Sky even had a chance to answer fully, diving into tales about how Sky was "everywhere" in town, doing God knows what, and somehow everyone’s favorite.

He said it like a complaint, but his eyes betrayed him—bright and proud and full of something warm. For the first time, Sky found himself smiling quietly, glad Chris had noticed. Glad Chris liked it.

He should have volunteered more frequently and invited Chris to the pub more frequently.

Chris even complained that he usually struts into the cafeteria with a megaphone and says gibberish that makes people swoon.

Sky found himself biting his lips so he wouldn’t let the smile out.

There was no pressure this time. No cornering. No polite interrogation. Chris’s parents seemed more interested in hearing about their son—his life at school, his habits, what he was like outside their gilded world. But when Sky confessed there really wasn’t much—Chris barely went out and didn’t talk about himself much at all. Chris was... boring. They laughed like it was the funniest thing, while Chris sulked in mock offense.

Sky felt... oddly at ease.

Until the one question he’d been hoping wouldn’t come:

"What about your parents, dear? Do they know you’re here?"

Sky blinked. The clink of cutlery paused. He managed a short nod. "Yes."

He saw the way Chris’s parents exchanged a glance. Quick, unreadable. But to their credit, they didn’t push.

Chris looked at him—openly concerned. His face always gave him away. Sky avoided his eyes, pretending to focus on the last bite of his food.

The moment passed, the conversation moved on, and soon dinner was over.

Not without a parting shot, though—Chris’s mother, ever composed, warned, "No messing around in this house."

Right. Sure.

But boys would be boys.

To be fair, Chris hadn’t planned on sneaking out for anything ridiculous. This wasn’t about rebellion. No, he had a perfectly valid reason. A reasonable, logical, absolutely non-suspicious reason.

So naturally, he tiptoed down the hall like a petty thief, dodging light sensors like they were lasers in a spy movie, and knocked—softly—on Sky’s door.

It flew open instantly. Like Sky had been standing there. Waiting.

Chris flinched. "Jesus."

"Took you long enough," Sky said, already turning away, heading back toward the bed like this was routine. Like this wasn’t some late-night, possibly rule-breaking rendezvous in a billionaire’s house.

"You like calling on Jesus lately," Sky commented and narrowed his gaze. "That isn’t a currently living guy’s name, right?"

Chris stared for a beat, heart still hammering, then followed him in, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible. The room was dimly lit. It felt warm. And smelled nice.

Chris leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and asked casually, "Were you waiting for me?"

Sky nodded without hesitation, crossing his legs on the bed. He was in a set of soft, navy pajamas that somehow looked tailored to him—loose in the right places, hugging where it should. His hair was down, it looked like he just finished blow drying it, and a faint flush colored his cheeks. He looked... better. Softer. Comfortably undone. He even smelled nice—like mint and clean soap and something vaguely expensive.

Something an Owen owned.

Chris caught himself ogling.

He blinked out of it, coughed, and fumbled the phone he’d been holding. "Uh. Right. I, um, brought you this."

He held out the phone. "One of my old ones. Still works fine. I’m not sure where my phone is, so I might get calls here. But I thought you might need to reach your family. And maybe check other stuff."

He went closer to hand it to him. Something told him not to. That this was going to be a temptation he wouldn’t be able to stand.

Sky took it gently, flipping it in his palm. "Do you have their numbers?"

Chris blinked. "Wait—you don’t have anyone’s number memorized?"

There was a pause. Then Sky gave a slow smile and said, "I’m kidding."

Chris let out a breathy laugh, ready to call him a clown, to say he was so silly. But somehow, the words tangled and what came out was—

"You’re so beautiful."

It slipped, quiet and bare.

The air paused with them. Both boys froze, staring.

Sky slowly uncrossed his legs and tucked his hair behind his ears which were looking kinda red now, eyes darting away from Chris’s. "Uh... I was actually going to call Henry," he said, his voice low. "Hope you don’t mind if I talk to him... privately?"

Chris nodded once, too quickly. "Sure," he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. But his jaw tightened as he turned around.

Sky’s voice came again, quick and unsure. "Where are you going?"

Chris glanced over his shoulder. Sky stood up, the phone in one hand, the other tugging slightly at the hem of his shirt. "Just... stay for a while?" he asked. "I’ll just be in the restroom."

Chris hesitated, his back half-turned, before letting out a short sigh. "Yeah. Okay."

But inside, it prickled. He didn’t like it—Sky asking him to wait but still shutting him out. The privacy. The secrecy. It stung a little more than it should. Still, what choice did he have?

He sat down on the edge of the bed, arms folded across his chest, glaring softly at the empty air.

And that was how it happened. Somewhere between thoughts and frustration, eyelids growing heavier and heavier, he drifted off to sleep—alone, on someone else’s bed, waiting.

Somewhere along the line, Chris blinked groggily, the world returning to him in a slow, warm haze. The soft scent of something familiar—peaches, maybe—filled his nose. Something gentle brushed against his forehead.

He opened his eyes.

Sky.

He was leaning over him, impossibly close, his fingertips delicately brushing strands of hair from Chris’s face. His expression was soft, unreadable, eyes shadowed with something that looked too much like affection.

For a second, Chris forgot how to breathe. He blinked again, slower this time, taking him in. The closeness. The warmth. The way Sky’s thumb hesitated just beside his temple, like he didn’t want to stop touching him.

Chris thought maybe he was dreaming. He must have been. This felt like something out of those blurry moments before waking, something familiar and distant all at once—like this had happened before, in their dorm, or maybe in quiet moments when Sky had watched him without his knowing.

But then their eyes met. Locked. And Sky didn’t look away.

He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

"You make me breathe easier," Sky whispered, like it hurt to say—like he was saying too much and too little at once.

Then he leaned in. Close enough that Chris could feel his breath. And then, with impossible gentleness, Sky kissed him.

Directly. On the lips.