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Chunkz was asleep on the other side of the bed.
Well. "Asleep" was putting it kindly. He was more in that hybrid state between dreaming and being the noisiest blanket-thief known to man. His snores were soft, rhythmic, like a very polite thunderstorm. One of his feet had somehow emerged from the duvet like it needed air. His left arm was flung across the mattress like he'd passed out mid–karate move.
Sharky lay still beside him. Invading Chunkz's bed.
His own side of the bed was colder, untouched by body heat. He was curled loosely, not in the fetal position exactly but the kind of half-curled spiral you end up in when your heart is loud and your brain won't shut up.
Eyes open. Unblinking. Staring at the ceiling like it owed him answers. Like maybe if he just focused hard enough on the cracks in the plaster, something would make sense.
It didn't.
Nothing did.
His heart was too loud. He could hear it in his ears. Every beat like a drumroll before a decision he wasn't ready to make.
He could feel his pulse in his fingertips. In his throat. The silence around him wasn't silent at all, it was filled with one thought, looping, again and again.
He turned his head slightly, just enough to see Chunkz's arm flopped over the duvet, one sock halfway off.
Fucking beautiful idiot.
Sharky swallowed.
What if I told you that I've fallen?
He thought it again.
What if I told you that when you say my name, my stomach flutters like a little kid on a rollercoaster?
He swallowed, shifting slightly under the covers, careful not to move too much. Even in this shared intimacy, one bed, one house, two hearts pretending to be chill, he didn't want to wake him.
What if I told you that every time you say my name, my chest tightens like it's been caught?
That when you drag out "Shaaarrrkz" in that teasing voice, I feel it under my skin like a shiver?
That this feeling won't go away no matter how many nights I sleep two feet from you trying to un-feel it?
That the way your eyes crease when you smile, like you know something about me I don't, makes me want to take your face in my hands and never look away?
He rolled onto his side, careful not to make the bed creak.
His fingers brushed the edge of Chunkz's blanket.
Not close enough to touch. Just... proximity.
That's all he'd ever let himself have.
Proximity.
Next to him.
Close enough to love him quietly.
But never too loud.
What if I told you that I'm terrified?
Not of loving you.
Of you not loving me back.
////_////_////_////
Sometimes he thought about saying it.
Just letting it out, casual as hell.
"Hey, by the way, I'm in love with you. Pass the remote"
But he knew he'd never be able to make it a joke.
It would sound like everything.
Because it was everything.
So instead he whispered into the dark.
"Nevermind" Sharky whispered.
////_////_////_////
He turned onto his side, ever so slightly, just enough to face him.
Sharky studied him with the aching patience of someone who had memorized every inch.
He knew how Chunkz rubbed his thumb in circles when nervous. How he mumbled half-finished raps under his breath while texting. How he always laughed hardest when he shouldn't, like in the middle of silent airports, or when someone tripped over nothing.
He knew how he hated mushrooms, how he always needed a fan to sleep, how his voice dropped half an octave when he was feeling sincere.
And he especially knew how much it hurt when Chunkz looked at him with something close to love... and then looked away.
Sharky's fingers curled into fists beneath the sheets.
He'd thought about telling him before. So many times. On the couch during a movie. On a late-night walk. In the kitchen, over toast and tea. The words were always there, pressing against his tongue, ready to tumble out.
But then Chunkz would grin. Or throw a cushion at his face.
And Sharky would freeze.
Never mind.
////_////_////_////
The sky outside the window was pale, not yet light but not dark either. That hazy in-between time where the world hasn't decided who it wants to be yet.
Chunkz stirred.
Sharky didn't move. Pretended to be asleep. Kept his breathing soft and slow.
He felt the shift in weight as Chunkz rolled onto his back. Heard the faint creak of the mattress. The sigh.
Then, silence.
Then, soft, almost unconscious.
"Sharky?" Chunkz called out.
His heart skipped.
He didn't respond.
He couldn't.
A moment passed. Then two.
He felt Chunkz settle again, pulling the duvet higher, his fingers brushing Sharky's leg without realizing.
Sharky stayed still, eyes wide open, heart hammering.
You don't even know what you do to me.
////_////_////_////
By the time Sharky shuffled out of bed, the kitchen smelled like toast.
Chunkz was leaning against the counter, in grey sweatpants and a t-shirt with some old faded logo. His hair was a mess. His smile wasn't.
"Finally awake, sleepyhead. Was starting to think I'd have to go in and revive you" Chunkz said.
"You? Revive? You'd panic and throw a pillow at me" Sharky said as he grinned, weakly.
"Pillow therapy is underrated" Chunkz said as he spread cream cheese on a bagel.
They moved around each other in a domestic dance they'd long since perfected. One buttered the toast. The other poured juice. It was warm. Familiar. Safe.
It also hurt like hell.
Because it felt too good.
Because Sharky kept thinking.
I could do this every day. Forever.
Make his breakfast. Clean his glasses. Wash his hoodies. Pick him up when he's a mess.
If you let me.
But instead, he said nothing.
"You alright? You've been kinda quiet lately" Chunkz asked.
Sharky waved it off.
"Just tired, brain fog" Sharky said.
Chunkz watched him for a second longer than usual. But didn't press.
"Alright" Chunkz said eventually.
"We'll chill today. No pressure" Chunkz added.
"Yeah" Sharky agreed as he nodded.
Should he?
What if I told you that I've fallen?
What if I told you that I stay up at night wondering if you already know?
That every version of you lives rent-free in my head, the funny one, the sleepy one, the one who pulls me into hugs without warning?
That I keep waiting for you to say my name like it means something more?
He stared at Chunkz.
Eyes. Shoulders. Smile.
Say it. Just say it.
Instead, he laughed.
Nevermind.
////_////_////_////
Chunkz was on the couch, legs spread like a king, controller in hand, FIFA on full blast. Sharky sat on the armrest, head tilted, phone in hand, pretending to scroll.
He wasn't scrolling.
He was watching.
"Bro, that's illegal. The AI's cheating" Chunkz said as his brow furrowed as he lost a goal.
"Blame the pixels" Sharky said as he smiled.
"Bro, you better back me up" Chunkz said.
"I'm always backing you up" Sharky said.
Chunkz looked over, caught his eyes, held them for a beat longer than necessary.
Then he looked away.
"You're soft, man" Chunkz said teasingly.
"Someone's gotta be" Sharky said as he shrugged.
What if I told you I'm already yours?
What if I told you that even if you don't say it back...
I'd still feel lucky just to be near you?
But he didn't say that.
He just sat there.
Quiet.
Smiling.
And thought.
Nevermind.
////_////_////_////
That night, back in his own room, Sharky stared at the same ceiling.
His chest was tight.
He couldn't sleep again.
The fan whirred. The shadows stretched long across the ceiling. His phone glowed in his palm.
He reached for his phone. Opened the camera. Looked at the last selfie they took, Chunkz in a hoodie, Sharky grinning, heads close.
He stared at it like a fool in a sad indie movie.
What if I told you I was falling for a photo on my phone?
What if I told you I'll make your breakfast every morning and pick you up when you're a mess?
That I'll answer your calls before the first ring ends?
That I'm already yours whether you know it or not?
He closed the phone. Tucked it under the pillow.
Turned his head toward the door. Toward Chunkz's room.
Toward the only voice that could say his name and make it feel like it belonged to him.
He didn't say anything.
Didn't move.
Just whispered to himself.
"What if I told you..." Sharky whispered.
He smiled bitterly.
"Nevermind" Sharky said as he closed his eyes.
Nevermind.