Chapter 6
Shawn's scream echoed through the room, so sudden and sharp that Ian froze.
He turned towards the bed, his brow furrowing in confusion.
Shawn, who had been passed out cold just moments before, had gone silent again, as if the outburst had never happened.
"What the hell, man?" Ian muttered under his breath. He didn't move at first, just stared at Shawn's still figure, trying to make sense of it.
The frustration that had been simmering in him all night was now boiling over.
He had no idea what was going on with Shawn, and honestly, he wasn't sure he cared enough to find out.
He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the exhaustion creep in. The rain was still pounding against the windows, and his wet clothes clung to his skin uncomfortably.
He glanced down at himself, sighing. Enough. He had to get out of these soaked clothes.
Ian resumed unbuckling his belt, his movements slower now, as if each tug at the buckle was an effort. His wet jeans dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.
He kicked them aside, letting them land in a crumpled heap beside his shirt.
Now in just his boxers and undershirt, he felt a momentary relief from the clammy discomfort, but his thoughts immediately turned back to the mess in front of him.
He looked at Shawn, lying there on the bed, motionless. He hadn't stirred since that scream. Ian let out a long breath, feeling the weight of his annoyance sink into his bones.
He could just leave him there, let him sleep it off, but something gnawed at him—something he couldn't quite place. Frustration or concern, he wasn't sure.
With another sigh, Ian stepped towards the bed and sat down on the edge. The mattress dipped under his weight, and he hesitated for a second before reaching out.
Gently, he lifted Shawn's limp body, propping him up against the pillows. His shirt was clinging to him, soaked through just like Ian's had been. Ian grimaced, brushing away the wet fabric that stuck to Shawn's skin.
"I don't know why I'm doing this…" Ian muttered to himself, exasperated.
As he peeled Shawn's shirt up and over his head, his hands stopped abruptly.
His eyes caught something that made him freeze in place—a thin line of cuts across Shawn's arm, some barely healed, others fresher, red and angry against his pale skin.
Ian felt a sudden jolt in his chest, something like shock or disbelief, but it quickly turned into discomfort.
He let go of Shawn's arm like it had burned him, staring down at the bloodied lines etched into his skin. His mind was racing.
"Shit..." Ian breathed out, his voice barely audible. He took a step back from the bed, his heart pounding in his ears. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
This wasn't just some drunken outburst or a bad day. There was something more here, something way deeper than he was prepared to deal with.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the cuts, his mind swirling with questions he didn't want to ask.
He hadn't signed up for this—he wasn't equipped to handle whatever Shawn was going through. He should walk away. He should—
But then, almost against his own better judgment, Ian found himself moving back towards the bed.
His body felt heavy, like the weight of the night was finally catching up to him. He sat down again, trying not to look at the cuts, trying to push down the unease rising in his chest.
"Come on, man..." Ian muttered, more to himself than to Shawn. "You've got to wake up. I'm not... I can't deal with this alone."
He gently lifted Shawn up again, this time more carefully, more aware of the fragile state he was in.
Shawn's body felt limp in his hands, but as Ian adjusted him, Shawn stirred slightly. His eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused, and for a second, he just stared at Ian like he wasn't sure where he was.
Then, without warning, Shawn wrapped his arms around Ian, pulling him into a tight hug.
"I was so scared..." Shawn's voice was barely a whisper, trembling with something Ian couldn't quite place.
Ian stiffened, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air, unsure of what to do. His heart was pounding again, but this time for an entirely different reason.
What was Shawn talking about? What had scared him so much that it led to this? He had no idea what to say, so he didn't say anything.
He just let Shawn hold onto him, even though every second of it felt wrong and confusing.
He should push him away. He should say something to snap him out of whatever this was, but he didn't.
Instead, Ian sat there, his mind racing in circles, trying to make sense of everything. Shawn's grip loosened after a while, but he didn't let go completely.
His head was resting on Ian's shoulder now, and his breathing was shaky, uneven.
"Ian..." Shawn's voice was softer now, almost fragile. He lifted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto Ian's. "Is it really you?"
Ian blinked, unsure of what to say. What kind of question was that? Of course, it was him, who else would it be?
But before he could even open his mouth to respond, Shawn did something that caught him completely off guard.
He leaned in, his hand sliding up to cup Ian's face. And before Ian could react, Shawn's lips were on his.
When Shawn's lips pressed against Ian's own, the world seemed to stop for a moment. Ian's eyes widened in surprise, his mind scrambling to catch up with what was happening.
At first, he didn't move, his body frozen in place as his brain tried to make sense of this sudden, unexpected action.
His eyes focused on Shawn's lips—so close, so desperate—and yet, for a moment, all Ian could do was stare.
What the hell is going on?
His thoughts raced, but his body remained still, rigid. It wasn't until a second or two passed that Ian felt something stir inside him.
Confusion melted into something deeper, something instinctual. Before he could even process it fully, Ian found himself leaning into the kiss.
Slowly at first, unsure, but then his body took over, responding to Shawn's touch in a way that surprised even him.
Shawn, who had initiated the kiss, now seemed unable to keep up.
Ian's lips moved against his with a force and hunger that came out of nowhere, the kiss deepening, growing more fervent with every passing second.
A low groan escaped Ian's throat, his hand moving almost automatically, sliding over Shawn's side, feeling the warmth of his body beneath the thin fabric of his singlet.
The hesitation Ian had felt at the beginning was gone now, replaced by an intensity he couldn't control.
His hand slipped under Shawn's shirt, his fingers grazing over his skin before finding their way to Shawn's chest.
Ian's touch was deliberate, tracing the lines of muscle beneath his fingers until he reached Shan's nipple. He gave it a light, teasing tap, feeling the way Shawn's body tensed under his touch.
Shawn gasped, his breath hitching in his throat, but before he could react further, Ian pulled away from the kiss.
Not fully—just enough to push Shawn back onto the bed, his eyes dark.
Ian's lips were parted, his breathing heavy, as he hovered over Shawn, his hand still resting on his chest.
Without a word, Ian's hand slid lower, fingers reaching for the buckle of Shan's belt.
There was a quiet intensity in the air now, the silence between them thick and charged, as Ian's fingers worked at the belt, the soft clinking sound the only noise in the room.
But just as the belt came loose, the room was pierced by a sharp beep making Ian freeze and his hand stopped mid-motion.