Sunday passed unbearably slowly.
Aiden lounged alone in his small apartment, his leg tightly wrapped in a bulky brace. His crutches leaned against the wall nearby. The TV flickered with a mindless reality show, but his attention was elsewhere. His phone occasionally lit up—mostly with messages from Jake and Eagle or unimportant notifications.
Every so often, he glanced out the window, his gaze distant and thoughtful. Monday, hurry up and come already. There was something he was waiting for, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.
On Monday morning, the classroom was filled with the faint chill of early winter air. Keller walked in with his backpack slung over one shoulder, his eyes instinctively scanning the back row. Aiden's usual seat was empty.
Keller's brows furrowed slightly.
"He probably spent the weekend out with his girlfriend Amy and couldn't be bothered to come to class," he muttered to himself, pulling his gaze back to his textbook.
His grip on his pen tightened slightly as he told himself again and again: Don't think about it. Don't overthink it. He's Aiden. I'm Keller. We're not from the same world.
During the long break, Keller sat in a corner of the cafeteria, slowly sipping a cup of hot coffee, trying to calm his thoughts. However, he overheard a group of boys chatting nearby:
"Did you hear? Aiden crashed his car on Saturday night."
"Seriously? Is he okay?"
"Seems like he hurt his leg pretty badly. He's been stuck at home all weekend."
Keller's hand trembled, nearly spilling his coffee. His head snapped up, his sharp gaze locking onto the group of boys talking.
Aiden's hurt?
He couldn't sit still anymore. Pushing back his chair, Keller shot up and rushed out of the cafeteria.
But once he reached the cold outdoors, the realization hit him—he didn't know where Aiden lived. He stood still for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists in his pockets, trying to steady his breathing.
Finally, he pulled out his phone, opened their chat, and quickly typed:
"I heard you got hurt. Are you okay? Where are you? Send me your address."
Aiden was sprawled out on his couch, staring blankly at the ceiling when his phone buzzed. He lazily reached for it, but when he saw Keller's name on the screen, a spark of life returned to his tired eyes.
A smile crept onto his face, and for a moment, even the dull ache in his leg seemed to fade away.
It was Keller.
He quickly typed back: "I'm fine, just my leg. Here's my address."
About thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Aiden clumsily maneuvered himself to the door with his crutches and pulled it open. Keller stood there, slightly out of breath, holding a bag of burgers, fries, and drinks. Worry was etched all over his face.
"Are you delivering takeout now?" Aiden grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe.
"Cut the crap." Keller rolled his eyes, stepping into the apartment and setting the bag down on the table. "How are you even managing on your own? Why didn't you go home?"
Aiden hobbled back to the couch, easing himself down carefully. "Didn't want to deal with my dad's face. Look at me—I'm completely useless right now. Can't even get up properly, let alone eat… or shower."
"Shower?" Keller froze, his eyes widening slightly. "You're not suggesting—"
Aiden's grin widened as he put on an exaggeratedly innocent face. "Come on, Keller. You're already here. You wouldn't just let me sit here and stink, would you?"
Keller let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple. But eventually, he gave in.
After dinner, Keller reached out and lightly grabbed Aiden's shirt collar. Slowly, carefully, he pulled Aiden's shirt off. The space between them was suddenly filled with a heavy silence, their breaths intertwining in the narrow gap.
Without warning, Aiden pulled Keller into a tight embrace, their bodies pressed flush against each other without a sliver of space between them.
"Aiden, stop messing around, will you? Let go. Do you want this shower or not?"
Aiden leaned back slightly, his broad shoulders and toned chest now fully visible under the dim light. Keller's gaze briefly lingered before he forced himself to look away, jaw tightening. He had the sudden urge to kick Aiden square on his firm backside just to break the tension.
The bathroom was filled with steam, the faint sound of water splashing against the tiles echoing softly. Aiden sat on a plastic stool, his injured leg carefully wrapped in a plastic bag Keller had tied tightly around it. Faint scratches and bruises marked his exposed skin.
"You're not taking off your clothes? Careful, Keller, you'll end up soaked," Aiden teased, glancing back at him.
"Don't worry about me," Keller muttered, avoiding Aiden's gaze.
Keller stood behind Aiden, soaking a towel under the warm water. Slowly, he began wiping down Aiden's back. His movements were cautious, almost stiff, as though the moment his hand touched Aiden's skin, it might burn him.
"Hey, go easy," Aiden said lazily, his voice carrying a teasing edge. "Are you washing me, or torturing me?"
Keller frowned but didn't respond. His hands grew gentler, the towel gliding across Aiden's broad shoulders and down his spine. His eyes followed the path of water droplets as they slid down Aiden's back, pooling briefly at the small of his waist before disappearing below.
For a brief moment, the air between them grew unbearably still. The sound of running water and their slow, uneven breathing filled the silence.
Suddenly, Aiden reached out and grabbed Keller's wrist.
"What are you doing?" Keller's voice trembled slightly, his wide eyes locked onto Aiden's.
Aiden smirked faintly, his gaze sharp but playful. "Relax, Keller. I'm not going to eat you alive. You still need to help me wash the front, don't you?"
Keller froze for a moment, his face faintly flushed in the steam-filled room. He quickly pulled his wrist free and turned his head slightly, gripping the towel tightly in his hand.
"You're impossible, Aiden," Keller muttered under his breath.
But Aiden just chuckled softly, leaning back into the stool, letting Keller's words dissolve into the heavy mist between them.
In the quiet that followed, neither of them spoke again. The warmth of the water, the weight of the steam, and something heavy—something unspoken—hung between them, refusing to fade.