The guys were having a fantastic time at the lounge, drinking, laughing, and swapping hilarious, exaggerated stories from past semesters. Lost in the comfortable rhythm of their conversation, they didn't even notice how quickly the hours slipped away into the night. Suddenly, the glass bell above the heavy entrance door chimed, and a familiar, slender figure walked through the dim, neon-lit room.
Willy's glass paused halfway to his lips, his eyes widening. "Tim? What on earth is he doing here?" He blinked, genuinely caught off guard.
Ethan smirked, taking a slow sip of his own drink without looking up. "I texted him to come over. He shouldn't be rotting alone in his apartment on a Friday night."
Tim caught sight of their glowing booth and smoothly navigated through the crowded tables and dim shadows toward them.
"How are you guys doing?" Tim asked, sliding his hands casually into his pockets as he arrived at the edge of the table.
"Excellent!" Al beamed, gesturing around the lively bar. "Sit down!"
"Yeah, I can tell," Tim noted dryly, his dark eyes sweeping over the half-empty bottles cluttering the polished wood table.
Logan offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, man. We really should've texted you earlier to join us from the very start."
"It's fine," Tim shrugged smoothly, his voice calm. "I don't really drink anyway, and you all know I'm not the biggest fan of loud crowds."
Ethan patted the empty leather seat right next to him, shifting over. "Look, I'm sorry for dragging you out, but we actually need your company tonight. I didn't want to call anyone else to bail us out of this boring sports talk later. Just stay with us for a bit before we all head home."
Tim looked down at Ethan's pleading, puppy expression and realized he couldn't just turn around and abandon his friend. With a soft, resigned sigh, he quietly took the seat.
A few minutes later, a waiter approached their table, carrying a heavy, expensive crystal glass filled with a premium, rich amber liquor. He placed it down with a soft clink right in front of Tim.
Ethan raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-sentence. "Wait, who's that for? We didn't order another round."
"For him," the waiter replied politely, gesturing respectfully toward Tim.
Tim frowned, staring at the untouched, sweating glass. "But I didn't order anything."
"Someone across the VIP section sent it over to you, sir," the waiter explained smoothly before bowing and quickly slipping back into the bustling crowd.
Tim didn't even touch the glass. He didn't care who had sent it, nor was he remotely interested in looking around the room to find out. Willy, however, kept his eyes locked on the entire exchange. His gaze burned holes first into the golden liquor, and then his sharp, dangerously dark eyes shifted directly to Tim's face.
Sensing the sudden, suffocating shift in the atmosphere, Tim casually pushed the glass toward the exact center of the table. "If anyone wants it, feel free to drink it. I'm not have any."
Without uttering a single word, Willy reached across the table, snatched the crystal glass, and downed the strong, burning whiskey in one aggressive, fluid gulp. His jaw was tightly set as he slammed the empty glass back down, swirling the last remaining drop of moisture in it with a dark, territorial look in his eyes.
Tim caught the entire possessive display, and a knowing, thoroughly amused smile slowly crept onto his lips. He's jealous.
Before anyone could comment on Willy's sudden, aggressive thirst, a tall man built like a brick wall and wearing a sharp black suit approached their booth.
"Hello," the stranger said, his voice low, deep, and thoroughly professional. He looked only at Tim, completely ignoring the rest of the group as if they were part of the furniture. "My boss would like to have a word with you. He's waiting upstairs in the private lounge on the second floor."
Tim tilted his head, his posture instantly turning guarded, the amusement vanishing from his eyes. "And who exactly is your boss?"
He wasn't about to meet just anyone, especially an unnamed stranger in a chaotic place like this. The man, clearly a highly trained private security guard, quietly slid a heavy, high-end embossed business card onto the table. Tim glanced down at the golden lettering, and his expression shifted into something serious and compliant. He immediately stood up.
"I'll be back soon," Tim told the table calmly. Without another word of explanation, he turned and disappeared up the grand staircase, flanked on both sides by the guards.
Willy's grip tightened around his empty glass until his knuckles turned white. He tried to act completely unfazed, but inside, a toxic mix of curiosity and a strange, burning frustration was eating him alive. He needed to know who Tim was meeting upstairs. Who held that much power over him?
Ethan broke the heavy silence, leaning back with a sigh. "See? I told you he's popular wherever he goes. People are just naturally drawn to him, even the dangerous types."
Willy couldn't deny it, even if his pride wanted to. Even though Tim carefully projected a mysterious, intimidating, and aloof persona, the tryouts and his immediate willingness to step in for Seb proved he was deeply caring underneath all those sharp spikes.
"I'm going to step out for a bit," Willy suddenly announced, sliding abruptly out of the leather booth.
Seb looked up, surprised by the sudden movement. "Are you okay, man? You look a bit flushed."
"Yeah. Just need some fresh air," Willy muttered through his teeth.
He stepped toward the exit but stopped dead near the base of the stairs, casting a sharp, intense glance up toward the second floor. Nothing was visible. The heavy, crimson velvet curtains of the VIP rooms were drawn completely shut, blocking any view from the main floor. Frustrated and harboring a strange tightness in his chest, Willy walked back and sat down, though his eyes kept involuntarily flicking toward the staircase every few seconds like a hawk.
Al nudged him hard, a playful, insufferable smirk on his face. "Don't worry, Romeo. Your prince will be back soon."
Willy shot Al a terrifying, lethal glare that instantly silenced him. Normally, they'd joke through any teasing, but Willy's current mood was dangerously volatile. He looked... undeniably, fiercely jealous.
The group didn't have to wait long. True to his word, Tim descended the stairs about ten minutes later, adjusting his collar, looking entirely unfazed by whatever high-level conversation had just occurred.
"Everything okay?" Ethan asked softly.
"Yeah," Tim nodded, slinging his jacket over his shoulder with a relaxed movement. "Sorry for keeping you guys waiting. We can head out now if you're all ready."
As they walked out into the cool, crisp night air, Seb stretched his arms over his head. "So, how are we splitting up to get home?"
"My boyfriend, Miles, is picking me up in a few minutes," Logan answered, checking his phone screen.
Al hopped over instantly. "Perfect! I'll hitch a ride with you guys then. We live in the exact same suburban direction."
Ethan turned to the remaining group, a devious glint in his eyes. "Then the rest of us will go with Tim."
Willy snapped his head toward them, his protective instincts flaring. "Why? I'll just ride with Logan and my brother."
Tim's eyes flickered with a brief, subtle flash of disappointment. He had clearly wanted Willy to come with him.
"Miles is actually staying over at my place tonight, Willy," Logan interjected smoothly, rubbing the back of his neck with a knowing look. "And your apartment is on the complete opposite side of town. It doesn't make geographical sense."
Willy groaned internally, realizing he was utterly trapped by his own friends. "Fine. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. I don't want to be a third wheel anyway."
"Then we'll head out first." Ethan smiled brightly.
Tim, Willy, Seb, and Ethan walked toward Tim's sleek car parked under the streetlights, leaving Logan and Al waiting on the curb for Miles.
The drive started out entirely quiet, the city lights blurring past the windows, until Seb cleared his throat loudly from the backseat. "Hey, Tim? Can you drop me off at the twenty-four-hour pharmacy just up ahead on the avenue?"
Ethan frowned, turning his torso around to look at him. "Are you feeling sick, Seb?"
"Nothing serious," Seb reassured him, waving a hand dismissively. "An old shoulder injury from intensive training just acts up whenever the weather changes. I want to grab some prescription painkillers before tomorrow's dry-fire practice."
Tim glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't jump straight to the heavy pills, Seb. If it's throbbing, just keep a warm compress on it tonight."
Seb laughed heartily. "As you say, Doctor. I'll save the meds for tomorrow morning since I won't have time to buy them before the range opens."
"I'll step out and go in with him," Ethan suddenly volunteered as the car pulled up smoothly against the pharmacy curb. "I need to grab some throat lozenges anyway."
Tim smirked quietly to himself in the dark cabin. He knew exactly what those two were plotting. They were deliberately, shamelessly manufacturing an excuse to leave him and Willy completely alone in the vehicle.
"Take care of yourselves," Tim said as they unbuckled. "Call me if you guys need anything."
"Will do. Night, boys!" Ethan called out, slamming the heavy car door shut.
And just like that, the interior of the car went dead silent. Only Tim and Willy remained, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.
Tim shifted the car back into drive, pulling onto the quiet road. "Willy, give me your address."
Willy leaned his head heavily against the cool glass of the passenger window, his eyes half-closed, his voice slightly slurred from the alcohol. "I forgot it."
"If you don't remember your own home, I'm putting this car in reverse and calling Seb back," Tim threatened playfully, pulling out his phone at a red light.
In a flash of unexpected movement, Willy reached over and snatched the phone right out of Tim's hand, his grip warm and large. "No need. Let's just go to your place. I'm exhausted, and I have an incredibly early start tomorrow."
Tim pulled over safely to the side of the road, putting the car in park and looking at him with genuine concern. "No, Willy. You're drunk. You're not thinking straight."
"So what?" Willy countered, his voice dropping into a stubborn, incredibly low, and gravelly register. "Either we go to your apartment, or I'm getting out of this car and sleeping right here on the concrete sidewalk." He actually reached for the door handle to prove his point.
Tim quickly reached across the console, his strong hand catching Willy's forearm to stop him. He stared at Willy's stubborn, beautiful expression for a tense moment before sighing softly, defeated. "As you wish." He didn't want to argue. Now definitely wasn't the time or the place to fight Willy's pride.
A short, quiet drive later, they arrived at Tim's luxury apartment complex. Tim parked the car securely in the underground garage, walked around to the passenger side, and gently helped a slightly stumbling Willy out of the seat. They took the private elevator up to the third floor, and Tim unlocked his front door with a soft electronic beep.
He stepped aside to let Willy slide in first, closing and locking the heavy door behind them. The apartment was pitched in total darkness, hiding the elegant layout. Tim reached out and flipped on the main light switch, illuminating a minimalist, immaculate, and pristine living space.
Willy looked around, blinking against the sudden brightness. "I didn't think your place would be this exceptionally clean."
Tim smiled faintly, taking Willy's heavy jacket and hanging it up. "Because I live alone?"
Willy didn't answer, his intense eyes tracking Tim's every movement.
"I've lived entirely on my own for years," Tim explained softly, walking into the sleek kitchen to grab a glass of cold water. "So, I'm the only one here to take care of me."
Willy followed him into the kitchen, his heavy, dark gaze never leaving Tim's pale face.
Tim turned around, holding the crystal glass out. "You don't know much about me yet, Willy... but we've got plenty of time on this trip to change that." He paused, noticing the sheer, unadulterated intensity in the older boy's eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Willy didn't answer with words. Instead, he took a slow, predatory step forward, closing the remaining distance between them until he was standing directly in Tim's personal space. He slowly raised his large right hand, his warm, rough fingers wrapping gently around the side of Tim's pale neck.
Tim's breath hitched completely, his heart hammering against his ribs as he realized Willy wasn't looking at his eyes anymore he was staring intently, hungrily, at his lips.
"I want to kiss you," Willy whispered, his voice thick, honest, and heavy with unspoken desire.
The raw confession sent a massive jolt of electricity straight through Tim's chest. But before Willy could lean down and bridge the final inch, Tim quickly raised his left hand, covering Willy's lips with his palm, gently but firmly stopping him.
"Me too," Tim breathed against his own hand, his dark eyes wide and full of an overwhelming vulnerability. "But not tonight."
Willy froze, confusion flickering through his alcohol-hazed eyes. He knew Tim had feelings for him, so he couldn't comprehend why he was being pushed away at the peak of the moment.
Tim slowly lowered his hand from Willy's lips but kept his touch lingering softly over Willy's beating chest. "You're drunk, Willy. You'll wake up in the morning and your pride will make you regret it. Maybe a random kiss doesn't mean much to you... but it means everything to me." Tim looked down, his voice dropping to a raw, fragile whisper. "Because this would be my first kiss. And I want you to actually remember it."
Willy stepped back a fraction, the absolute shock of the words instantly clearing some of the alcoholic fog in his brain. "First kiss?" he repeated, incredulous. "You've... you've never been with anyone before?"
"That's right," Tim said, offering a small, sad, and incredibly fragile smile. "Let's talk about all of this tomorrow. You can ask me absolutely anything on the road, and I promise I'll answer you honestly. But if I told you my story tonight, you probably wouldn't remember a single word of it by morning."
Willy stood there in the quiet kitchen, those two words first kiss ringing repeatedly in his head like a gunshot. A profound, overwhelming wave of possessive protectiveness hit him as he realized just how little he truly knew about the fragile boy standing in front of him.
Tim cleared his throat, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy, emotional mood. "Anyway, you can sleep in my bedroom. I'll take the living room couch out here."
"No," Willy immediately countered, shaking his head firmly. "That would be awkward. Ethan told me you don't sleep well at night. Sleep next to me. I'm sure if you're there, you'll finally be able to rest peacefully."
Tim let out a soft chuckle, a bit of his usual playful, mocking edge returning to his eyes. "I highly doubt that. Because if I'm sleeping right next to you, I'll be thinking about you all night long."
Willy looked at him, his expression turning surprisingly soft, almost pleading. "Don't make me feel guilty for taking your bed. Please, just accept it."
Tim stared deeply into Willy's eyes for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Alright. But on one condition."
"Whatever it is, I agree," Willy said instantly, without hesitation.
Tim reached up and playfully, gently patted Willy on his messy hair, a bright, childlike glint returning to his dark eyes. "You agreed without even asking what I wanted first? Why are you being so dangerously cute tonight, Willy? My condition is simple... just hold my hand until I fall asleep, okay?"
His eyes sparkled with genuine, rare innocence. Willy couldn't help but let out a soft, breathless laugh, his chest tightening with affection.
"You're such a kid sometimes, Tim," Willy murmured affectionately, his voice deep. "What next? Should I read you a bedtime fairy tale too?"
Tim grinned, leading the way into his dimly lit bedroom. "Actually, that's a fantastic idea. And don't forget to kiss me on the forehead before turn-out."
Willy sighed, shaking his head with a small, permanent smile fixed on his face. Tim always had to have the final, mocking word; he never lost that game.
"Time for bed," Tim said, pulling back the crisp covers. "You have to wake up early tomorrow for the brackets."
True to his word, Willy slid into the large bed, and the moment Tim lay down next to him, Willy reached out, his large, warm hand firmly and securely wrapping around Tim's smaller one. Surprisingly, the crushing, suffocating weight of Tim's usual dark insomnia didn't show up tonight. Protected entirely by Willy's massive warmth and presence, Tim fell asleep almost instantly.
Willy stayed awake for a little longer, watching Tim's chest rise and fall in a peaceful, undisturbed rhythm under the moonlight. He smiled softly, gently pulling Tim a bit closer into a protective embrace, and leaned down to press a quiet, lingering, and reverent kiss onto his forehead.
For the first time since his traumatic childhood, Tim slept through the night feeling completely, utterly safe. And Willy, holding him close against his chest, felt an unfamiliar, deep calm settle over his own soul, knowing that Tim was finally in safe hands.