Strings of the Heart

by manlikeazi

Summary:

Sharky finds himself quietly falling for his best friend Chunkz. While he is caught between the fear of ruining their bond and the hope that maybe, just maybe, Chunkz feels the same.

Chapter 1: Distant Yet Close

Sharky had been part of Beta Squad since day one. Back when they were just a group of small YouTubers trying to make a name for themselves, recording chaotic prank calls, silly general knowledge quizzes and any random entertainment they could dream up. It wasn't too fancy or anything but it was real and it was theirs.

Back then, it was just a handful of boys with mismatched phone cameras and makeshift mics, editing at 3 AM, and uploading whenever the Wi-Fi decided to cooperate. There were no agents, no managers, no deals waiting in inboxes. Just them and the wild hope that someone, somewhere, might laugh at their madness.

Sharky had met Chunkz through YouTube. Back then, Chunkz was just starting out too, a tall guy with an even bigger personality. He stood a good few inches taller than Sharky, always quick with a joke and a laugh that could fill any room but it wasn't just his humor that made him stand out. But it wasn't just his humor that made him stand out. Chunkz could sing and not in a gimmicky way. He actually had pipes and he wasn't shy about using them.

He'd take every opportunity to belt out a tune, even in the middle of filming, whether or not it made any sense contextually. Sharky found it both impressive and ridiculous in the best way. 

It was one of the first things he noticed about Chunkz, that unapologetic burst of joy that lived just under his skin, waiting for the slightest excuse to come out. 

The two clicked almost instantly, like different pieces of the same chaotic puzzle, especially after discovering they lived near each other and shared Somali heritage. The cultural overlap brought with it an unspoken comfort, a mutual understanding of things left unsaid.

"How have we not met sooner?" Chunkz had said during one of their first conversations, his grin infectious.

From that moment, they were inseparable. Chunkz brought along Aj, his close friend and he's a short guy with curly hair and a distinctive triangular face that quickly became an often violation against him. 

Aj was quieter when Sharky first met him, the kind of person who lingered in the background until he had the perfect joke to throw in but once he got comfortable, his wit rivaled anyone's in the group. 

But once he warmed up, his dry wit could disarm anyone and his timing? Impeccable. It was like he'd been engineered for comedic sniping. 

With some encouragement from Sharky and Chunkz, Aj launched his own channel, and the three of them became a core unit just laughing, filming, editing, failing, retrying, and above all, building. They weren't chasing fame. They were chasing fun, the kind of fun that made the hustle worth it.

Then there was Niko. 

Sharky met him on a random day while browsing Omegle, of all places. One of those aimless nights where boredom mixed with curiosity. Their interaction had started with nothing more than a shared laugh and exchanged Twitter handles, but it turned into a friendship that felt less like a coincidence and more like fate.

Niko was tall, even taller than both Chunkz and Sharky and that he never heard the end of it. His quick mind and knack for pushing boundaries made him stand out, even in a group full of strong personalities. Niko stood out by sheer boldness alone.

Kenny came into the picture through Niko. He was another up-and-coming YouTuber, known at the time for pulling silly pranks on his brother. Niko introduced him to the group, explaining that he and Kenny had been friends since school. 

"Well, sort of" Kenny had clarified with a laugh. 

"I technically went to uni too but only for one day before I dropped out" Kenny said. His easygoing nature and willingness to laugh at himself made him fit right in.

As the years went by, the group grew closer, their bond solidified through countless late nights, inside jokes, and shared dreams of making it big. 

There were countless late nights editing videos no one had asked for, lost footage that nearly ended friendships, takeaway orders that fueled their marathons, and arguments so dumb they circled back into comedy.

It wasn't just about the videos anymore. They were more than collaborators, they were brothers.

The big break came when they were offered the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to form an official group and run a channel together while living in a mansion. It was a world away from their humble beginnings but it felt like the natural next step. 

With guidance from a seasoned manager who understood the industry inside out, they were ready to take things to the next level.

Beta Squad was born and the rest as they say, was history.

Now, years later, Sharky sat in his room, staring at his laptop screen, the cursor blinking in the empty search bar. The hum of the mansion surrounded him, distant laughter from the living room, the occasional thud of footsteps above him and Chunkz's unmistakable voice booming down the hallway as he sang a riff of some random song. Sharky couldn't help but smile. Chunkz always found a way to fill the house with life.

Lately, Sharky had been finding himself pausing more often, watching the world around him as if from a distance.

It wasn't that he wasn't happy, he was. The views were insane, the fans were loyal, the offers were wild. They'd come so far. But even in the thick of success, something had started to feel... off.

Or maybe not off. Just different.

Their videos were pulling millions of views, the fans were loyal, and opportunities kept pouring in but somewhere in the chaos of their collective success, he'd been feeling... restless.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

His phone buzzed on the desk, and without looking, Sharky knew who it was.

Yo, man, come through. Niko's getting violated in Monopoly. You can't miss this

Sharky let out a chuckle before sending a reply:

Be there in a sec

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. It was weird how much Chunkz had been on his mind lately. It wasn't like they hadn't always been close. Chunkz had been one of the first people Sharky had really clicked with when they were starting out. 

They had their rhythm. Sharky's quieter, observational nature balanced by Chunkz's louder, more cheerful energy. It worked. It always had.

But recently, there'd been this... shift.

Sharky couldn't pinpoint when it started, but it was there, nagging at the back of his mind. He found himself noticing things he hadn't before. The way Chunkz's laugh could light up a room, the way his confidence made everything seem a little easier or the way he'd drop everything to make sure the people around him were okay.

It wasn't like Sharky hadn't known these things about Chunkz. He had. But now, they felt... different.

He stood up, shaking his head as if he could physically dispel the thoughts. This wasn't like him. Sharky prided himself on staying grounded, keeping a level head no matter what was happening around him but lately, whenever Chunkz was nearby, it was like that steady ground beneath him started to shift.

Grabbing his phone, Sharky headed down the hall toward the living room. The voices grew louder as he approached, and as he rounded the corner, he saw Chunkz leaning back on the couch, laughing so hard he could barely catch his breath.

"Sharky! You're just in time" Chunkz called out, spotting him instantly.

"Niko's about to flip the board. It's a madness" Kenny said, sitting at a distance from the people playing.

"What did you do this time?" Sharky said with a smile, his lips quirked into a small smile as he moved to sit on the arm of the couch.

"I'm just too good at monopoly" Chunkz said, shrugging with a satisfied smirk on his face before laughing.

"Too good at scamming people, you mean" Aj said, earning another round of laughter from the group.

Sharky found himself watching Chunkz again, studying the way his face lit up when he laughed, the way he gestured animatedly as he recounted the latest twist in the game. It was effortless for Chunkz, the way he commanded attention without trying, the way he made people feel like they were in on the best joke of the night.

Get a grip, man

Sharky mentally shook himself. He forced himself to look away, instead focusing on the chaos of the Monopoly board but even as he tried to immerse himself in the game, his mind kept drifting back. 

The way Chunkz nudged him lightly when he made a joke, the way their shoulders brushed when they shifted on the couch, the warmth of his presence.

It was frustrating, this unfamiliar pull. Sharky didn't know what to do with it, didn't know how to make sense of the way his thoughts seemed to revolve around someone who had always just been... Chunkz. His best friend.

The night wore on, and eventually, the game dissolved into a full-blown argument over rules, everyone laughing too hard to take it seriously. Sharky stayed quiet for most of it, his mind somewhere else entirely.

When the group finally dispersed, Sharky lingered, helping Chunkz gather the game pieces. It had became their own moment after a game night or whatever they are up to, it's always him and Chunkz who cleans up after the group.

"You good? You've been kinda... quiet tonight" Chunkz said as he glanced at him, his brow furrowing slightly. Sharky hesitated, his mind racing for an excuse.

"Just tired, I guess" Sharky said putting throw pillows back where they are supposed to be.

Chunkz didn't push but the way he looked at Sharky, it was like he was trying to figure something out made Sharky's heart beat just a little faster.

"Alright, well, don't overdo it, yeah?" Chunkz said, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. His hand lingered for a second longer than Sharky expected before he pulled away.

As Chunkz turned and headed upstairs, Sharky stood frozen in place, staring after him. The soft thud of retreating footsteps echoed faintly down the hallway until they disappeared entirely. 

The sound didn't quite leave the air, though. It lingered like smoke. That restless feeling in his chest had returned, more forceful this time, less like a background noise and more like something grabbing him by the collar and whispering to himself.

This means something.

For the first time, Sharky wondered if it was something he couldn't ignore anymore.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Chunkz tossed his phone onto the bed with a dull bounce, letting out a tired exhale as he rubbed the back of his neck. The room was dim now, lit only by the soft, golden glow of his desk lamp. Outside, the quiet hum of the wind continued uninterrupted, calm, still, as if the world had exhaled with him.

The rest of the house had settled down. Bedroom doors closed one by one. Someone probably Aj had sneezed in the hallway and muttered something in Somali before disappearing behind a door. The usual chaos had wound down into that familiar, sleepy silence that came after the noise.

And yet, Chunkz couldn't seem to unwind.

He stretched his arms out wide, back cracking slightly, muscles sore from hours of filming, shouting, laughing, and true to tradition that he's getting absolutely roasted by everyone at least twice. 

He scratched at his beard absentmindedly, stepping over to the window. The neighborhood beyond was quiet. A few streetlights flickered in the distance. A lone fox darted across a front lawn. Nothing out of the ordinary.

It had been a good day.

A typical Beta Squad day, really. Content filmed, jokes thrown, egos bruised, Monopoly boards violated. Laughter. Bickering. More laughter.

Still, there was one thing that had lingered with him from tonight.

Sharky.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen Sharky a thousand times before. He'd seen him in every state possible, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, sulking when his football team lost, barely awake at breakfast with a piece of toast dangling from his mouth, pacing with frustration during video shoots that ran too long. Sharky was Sharky. He was constant. Familiar. Steady.

But tonight... something had shifted.

At first, Chunkz had brushed it off. People had off days. Maybe Sharky was just tired. Or maybe he was frustrated about something unrelated. But then, when they were cleaning up the Monopoly game, just the two of them, there had been that moment.

They were kneeling on opposite sides of the coffee table, laughing about Kenny's dramatic rage-quit, gathering cards and dice. Sharky had leaned forward to grab the money pile. Chunkz had leaned in at the same time. Their shoulders brushed. Just for a second.

Tiny thing. Normal thing.

But for that second, it didn't feel like nothing.

There had been a stillness, a kind of quiet in Sharky's movement, like he had noticed it too. Maybe he lingered there a beat longer than necessary. Or maybe Chunkz was just imagining the whole thing.

Nah, it was probably nothing

He shook his head at himself, chuckling quietly. He'd known Sharky for years. Long enough to tell when something was off. But tonight hadn't felt off. It had felt... weird. Which wasn't the same thing.

Not bad. Not dramatic. Just... unfamiliar.

He must be tripping

He sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared down at the floor. His brain wouldn't stop replaying small details from earlier. The way Sharky had zoned out during the game. The quiet way he chuckled instead of bantering back. The way his smile had seemed... distracted.

Maybe Sharky was just dealing with something. Life stuff. Family stuff. Mental health stuff. Chunkz was used to spotting changes in the people around him. He wasn't always great at figuring out what those changes meant, but he noticed them. Always had.

He was like that with everyone. When Aj started pulling away, Chunkz had pulled him back. When Niko went through that weird phase of disappearing mid-shoot, Chunkz was the one who got him talking. And when Kenny almost walked away from a brand deal because of a crisis of confidence, Chunkz sat with him for two hours in the kitchen at 2 AM.

It's what he did. It's who he was. If someone he cared about started acting strange, he noticed.

Maybe Sharky didn't even realize it himself. Maybe he didn't want to say it out loud. The group had been moving at 100 miles an hour lately, filming nonstop, doing interviews, trying to line up their next massive collab. 

Living in the house together was everything they'd dreamed about back in the early days, but the pressure came with it. The constant need to be on. To perform. To never let the rhythm break.

Maybe Sharky was just overwhelmed. Chunkz could relate.

He flopped back onto the bed with a groan, his body sinking into the mattress. Arms behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling, the plaster catching the glow from his lamp in uneven shadows. He let out a long, controlled breath.

This whole "weird vibe" thing was probably just fatigue. His body was tired. His mind was wired. That combo always made things feel more dramatic than they were.

Still, he couldn't quite shake the image of Sharky's face from earlier. That moment when they'd looked at each other and... something unspoken hovered there. Something Chunkz hadn't had time to name before it vanished.

They were best friends. Brothers in everything but blood. They'd been through everything together, rejections, cancellations, breakups, breakdowns, milestones, miracles. If something was actually wrong, Sharky would say something.

Right?

Chunkz closed his eyes.

Silence pressed in. No laughter now. No voices down the hall. Just the low hum of electronics and the occasional creak of floorboards above him.

He'd figure it out tomorrow.

If something was going on, he'd bring it up then. Probably over breakfast. Something lowkey. Nothing serious. Just... feel it out.

For now, he just needed to sleep.

He was sure that by morning, everything would be back to normal.

Chapter 2: Whisked into Something Else

Summary:

The group gathers for breakfast and prepares for a baking challenge, with playful chaos filling the house as they get ready for the shoot.

The house was buzzing with its usual chaotic energy.

The faint smell of coffee drifted lazily through the hallway, mingling with the distant clatter of something metallic being dropped, probably a spoon or a pan. 

Chunkz emerged from his room, his oversized hoodie swallowing half of him, hair a mess, feet dragging like they were still asleep. He rubbed one eye with the heel of his palm, squinting as he blinked his way down the hallway toward the light.

The stairs creaked beneath his weight and as he reached the bottom step, the full absurdity of the morning hit him like a cold splash.

The living room was already alive. Aj was slouched on the couch, thumbs tapping rapidly on his phone, muttering something under his breath with the quiet, simmering rage of someone arguing with a stranger online, probably Twitter. His brow furrowed.

"Bro thinks he's got political theory because he watched one podcast" Aj murmured, eyes narrowed as if the phone personally offended him.

Niko was sprawled dramatically across the living room floor like some failed stage actor mid-performance, his long legs stretching far past the rug, a pair of ridiculously oversized knitted slippers on his feet, the kind that looked like they'd been stolen from someone's nan.

Chunkz couldn't help but grin.

In the kitchen, Kenny was doing battle with breakfast and losing. The countertop looked like a food crime scene. An open box of cereal had tipped over, a bag of flour had burst in a mushroom cloud across the island, and a thin film of pancake batter dripped from the corner of the stove.

"Kenny, what's this? A crime scene?" Chunkz said, stepping into the room with a smirk, voice still rough with sleep.

"Shut up, man. I'm trying to make pancakes. You want some, or not?" Kenny shot back, his hands coated in batter like he'd been finger painting.

"I'll pass on the pancake massacre" Chunkz teased, leaning against the kitchen island and grabbing a bottle of water.

"But you can make me a something decent if you want to redeem yourself" Chunkz added.

Niko looked up from his position on the floor, eyes half-closed from sleep.

"I swear, every time I walk into this kitchen, it looks like a tornado hit it. This place is a mess" Niko said.

"It's art, Niko, it's the beautiful chaos of breakfast" Kenny said back, his voice dry with sarcasm.

Chunkz couldn't help but laugh. The dynamic between the group had always been easy. They were like brothers, throwing jokes at each other one minute and having deep convos the next. It was their rhythm, and it worked.

As he turned to look around the room, his gaze fell on Sharky, who had just entered the room, rubbing his eyes, phone in one hand, hoodie hood half-off like it had been thrown on mid-step. 

His movements were sluggish, his presence quieter than usual. He didn't say anything right away, just made his way to the kitchen counter and sat down, his phone clattering softly onto the surface.

Chunkz clocked it immediately. The tired look. The way Sharky didn't meet anyone's eyes. The way he didn't lob a single insult at Kenny, which was practically tradition at this point.

Something was still off.

He looked more tired than usual, like he hadn't gotten enough sleep. Chunkz noticed how Sharky immediately took a seat at the kitchen counter, setting his phone down and barely saying a word. He was usually the first to make a sarcastic comment or crack a joke but today he seemed quieter.

He exchanged a glance with Aj, who paused his Twitter tirade just long enough to raise an eyebrow and then with Niko, who was now propped on one elbow, watching Sharky with quiet curiosity. They all noticed it but none of them said a word.

That wasn't how they operated. If someone needed space, they got it.

Kenny, clearly unaware of the undercurrent of tension, piped up from the stove, where he was attempting again to make pancakes. 

"I don't get how you guys act like I'm the weird one here. You all don't even want pancakes. You all want that sad, plain toast life" Kenny said.

"I'll take the toast, man" Aj replied without even looking up from his phone.

Sharky chuckled softly at the interaction but it didn't have the usual warmth to it. His laugh was more like an automatic response, something he did to fit in, not because it came naturally.

Chunkz leaned back, watching. Still quiet. Still assessing. 

Chunkz couldn't stop glancing at him, the nagging feeling from last night returning. He really hoped he wasn't reading too much into things. Sharky was usually the one everyone leaned on, the one who held everything together with his quiet strength but today? Today, he just seemed... disconnected.

He hadn't even said anything about Niko's grandma slippers.

That's how you knew it was serious.

"So, what's the plan today? More filming, or are we taking a break?"  Niko asked, shifting to sit up and rubbing his eyes.

"We've got that british bake off rented out  for a video didn't we?" Kenny said, flipping a pancake and almost dropping it in the process.

"Yeah, yeah, we've got to film that" Sharky confirmed, voice soft but steady.

The group quickly fell into their usual routine. Niko sprawled out on the couch, Aj still glued to his phone, and Kenny trying and failing to make breakfast. Sharky stayed at the counter, tapping away on his phone, every so often glancing up at the group but never fully engaging. It was like he was there but not really.

Chunkz, despite all the joking around, kept one eye on him. Whatever was going on with Sharky, he knew it was going to take time. He just didn't know how long it would take before things felt like they used to.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The squad was in full-on work mode now, each of them putting on their aprons, getting into their assigned teams. Sharky and Chunkz were paired up. Kenny and Niko were next, and then, to no one's surprise, Aj ended up with Gib.

The atmosphere was different today. They were all a bit quieter than usual, the excitement of the first few days at the house having worn off but now they were about to film, and everyone was buzzing with anticipation.

After some brief prep work, they were ushered onto the set, a large, bright kitchen space filled with every baking tool imaginable. Cameras were set up and the usual crew was buzzing around, making sure everything was ready. 

There were lights, angles, and the sound guy was already fiddling with his equipment. They all looked sharp, even if they were only wearing aprons over their usual casual clothes.

Before the baking started, Chunkz and Sharky stood outside filming of saying their strategy to the camera and so did others but it was them after Niko and Kenny.

"Alright, the game plan is simple. I'm a baker, yeah?" Chunkz said confidently, addressing the camera with exaggerated swagger.

Sharky stood beside him watching Chunkz with a mix of amusement and curiosity. He waited for his cue to speak, glancing at the camera briefly, as though testing the energy of the moment.

Chunkz wondered sometimes, how the man could stay so effortlessly entertaining. Sharky didn't have to try hard. It was like his whole vibe was a winning lottery ticket. 

Just a knowing smile, a well-timed look to the camera, and bam. Instant charisma. How did he do it? Sometimes Chunkz swore Sharky wasn't even trying.

"I know what I'm doing. So, I'm taking my sous chef here. He's going to do the nitty gritty for me" Chunkz said, gesturing toward Sharky.

Sharky tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing with genuine curiosity.

"What does 'sous chef' mean?" Sharky asked, leaning in just a bit too close, eyes locking onto Chunkz's in that familiar way that always made things feel a little... electric.

"Sous chef is you're underneath me" Chunkz said seriously, eyes squinting slightly.

Underneath him huh?

"I don't know if I like that..." Sharky said, his face slightly frowning  in genuine confusion.

"Not like that brother-- nevermind bro" Chunkz said trying to explain but eventually giving up while Sharky still stares at him expectantly.

 "This gonna be one of those days..." Aj muttered, standing off camera to the side

 "Bet you ten pounds they end up in flour by the end of this" Niko said as he nudged him, amused.

"You think I don't want that?" Aj said as he smirked.

They both looked away a second too late. Their hands had brushed, casually at first but neither moved. Niko's hand lingered just slightly on Aj's. Aj's thumb tapped once, twice, then remained still.

Sharky didn't seem to be letting it go. He was still looking at him like really looking at him with that same intense gaze, like he was waiting for Chunkz to finish explaining. His face was a mix of confusion and something else was it.

"Game plan is, I got the tricky bits, he's got the easy bits" Chunkz said, now facing the camera again.

Sharky, still standing beside him, mimicked Chunkz's hand gestures without missing a beat, mirroring every little move. It wasn't even in a try-hard way. It was just Sharky being Sharky. Effortlessly matching his energy, syncing with him like they'd done a thousand times before.

They looked good together in camera, very natural.

As the camera shifted angles to catch both of their faces, Sharky gave a playful smile to the lens, but there was something different about it. 

Maybe it was just the way his eyes lingered for a second too long. Maybe it was the way he couldn't quite hide a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

But as always, he shrugged it off, refocusing on the task at hand. They were here to bake a cake, after all.

The kitchen was chaos. Utter, beautiful chaos. As soon as the cameras started rolling, it was like a switch flipped, and everyone forgot about their usual routine. Flour flew in the air. Eggs cracked. Someone is sabotaging other's group by putting or stealing ingredients.

The sound of playful shouting filled the room as Niko, Kenny, and Aj launched into their usual competitive bickering, while Gib, who was no stranger to food-related mayhem, joined in with the madness. It wasn't long before the playful sabotage began flour bombs tossed from one side of the kitchen to the other.

Chunkz and Sharky, however, were completely oblivious to it all. They were focused laser focused on their rainbow cake. They'd been following the steps carefully, carefully whisking and measuring, fully immersed in the task at hand. They had no time for distractions.

Then, a small handful of flour landed directly on Sharky's face. He blinked, a little stunned. The flour had stuck to his face, coating his eyebrows and the tip of his nose. He froze for a second, looking like a confused ghost with white powder dusting him from head to toe.

"What just happened?" Sharky said, laughing softly but still looking like he had no idea how to react.

Chunkz was still mixing his batter when he turned and saw the mess. First, he laughed at Sharky's face which is now covered in flour before using the edge of his apron to gently wipe the whipped cream from Sharky's cheek. Their eyes met briefly, just for a second, and there was a strange stillness between them. 

Sharky's eyes locked onto Chunkz's, his expression softening just slightly, as if registering the closeness but Sharky didn't pull back. Instead, he just let him do it, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Can't have you looking like a jokeman when we win" Chunkz said as his hand soft against Sharky's skin as he gently wiped off the powder, careful not to get it in his eyes.

"Thanks, man" Sharky said, a little breathless now, his heart pounding for reasons he couldn't quite understand.

Chunkz, oblivious to the shift in the air, just grinned, wiping the last bit of flour from Sharky's chin. Brushing his hands off on his apron before turning back to his work, completely unaware of the effect his simple action had on Sharky. 

He was still the same Chunkz, the loud, confident, always joking but Sharky, for some reason, couldn't help but notice every little thing about him now.

It was just a touch, right? 

Just a little accidental wipe of flour from his face 

Nothing more

Chunkz somehow didn't notice the way Sharky's gaze lingered on him for just a second too long, his lips curling into a soft smile that didn't quite match the usual playful banter. Sharky's chest tightened but he quickly pushed the feeling aside, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"Alright, Let's get this cake done, bruv. We've got a masterpiece to make" Chunkz said as he went to the storage room where all of the ingredients are stocked inside.

Sharky, still feeling the warmth of Chunkz's touch on his cheek, nodded absently, trying to get his bearings again. His mind was racing, trying to sort through the unexpected rush of emotions. He didn't understand it, but something told him that maybe, just maybe this wasn't just about the flour anymore.

But for now, he pushed the thought away and turned his focus back to the cake. There would be time to figure out what was going on later. Right now, he needed to concentrate on not messing up.

The food fight raged on around them, but for a few moments, everything else seemed to fade into the background as Chunkz and Sharky worked side by side, unaware of the subtle shift between them.

Notes:

no proofread or beta read lmao

I hope y'all have an amazing day and absolute love and guidance.

As I said everytime, send in some request and ideas!!

nah, I'm serious, do send some idea.

Chapter 3: Frosting and Feelings

Summary:

Sharky and Chunkz in a chaotic baking competition and a late-night kitchen battle.

The kitchen was a chaotic battlefield of flour, frosting, and frayed nerves. Sharky focused intently, following Chunkz's instructions. Chunkz was busy decorating their double-layered cake. Sharky, on the other hand, had been tasked with crumbling the failed cutouts from the layers. A job that was both oddly satisfying and mildly frustrating.

"You've got this, Sharky" Chunkz said with a grin, glancing over.

Around them, chaos reigned.

Niko and Kenny, clearly a bit behind schedule, darted between stations. Their cake was still in the oven, and the pair had resorted to wandering over to other teams, peering at their progress with thinly veiled curiosity. Niko offered moral support, while Kenny fussed about how they'd make up for lost time.

Meanwhile, Aj and Gib had entirely abandoned the instructions to make a rainbow cake, opting instead for a chaotic chocolate creation with an ill-advised splash of cinnamon, which is Aj's mischievous attempt at sabotage. Gib, for his part, was too focused on the decorations to stop him, muttering something about "artistry above rules"

As the timer ticked down, Sharky and Chunkz doubled down, adding the final touches to their cake. Chunkz meticulously piped frosting along the edges while Sharky placed the crumbled cake pieces on top as a last-minute attempt at flair.

"It's not perfect but I swear the taste will carry us" Chunkz said confidently, stepping back to assess their creation.

Sharky only continued his task, stealing a glance at Chunkz every once in a while. Despite the stress, his friend was completely in his element, his energy infectious. Sharky couldn't help but smile to himself, though a small knot of something unnameable twisted in his chest.

The timer buzzed, signaling the end of the challenge.

One by one, the teams presented their cakes to the judges. Aj and Gib went first, unveiling their "chocolate masterpiece" The judges pointed out their decidedly un-rainbow presentation, noting the overbaked texture. However, the taste was a surprising blend of rich chocolate with a faint cinnamon kick earned them points.

Next, Niko and Kenny nervously approached. Their cake, freshly pulled from the oven, looked polished enough thanks to Kenny's desperate effort to salvage it. However, the judges quickly noted the underbaked texture, which gave the cake an almost molten quality. Despite this, the flavor received praise for its sweetness and balance.

Finally, it was Sharky and Chunkz's turn.

As they carried their cake forward, Sharky felt the weight of the moment pressing on his shoulders. Chunkz, ever the showman, grinned confidently as the judges inspected their work.

"The presentation isn't bad. The crumbled pieces on top add a creative touch" One judge remarked.

Sharky couldn't help but hold his breath as they cut into the cake, revealing surprisingly clean layers.

"The layers are actually visible and the texture looks great. Let's taste" The judge said, sounding genuinely impressed as she cut the cake in halfves.

The room fell silent as the judges took their first bites.

Chunkz and Sharky embraced each other rather closely as they waited for the final verdict from the judges. Sharky, however, found his focus slipping. The warmth of Chunkz's presence so close, the way his energy seemed to fill the space around him, it was distracting in a way Sharky couldn't quite understand.

Chunkz and Sharky being proud of their work while Chunkz casually pulled back and just slinged his arm on Sharky's shoulder. The judges had a moment to decide on the best cake out of the three and coming into conclusion of putting Niko and Kenny's cake last despite tasting great, Aj and Gib on second place, and finally for Chunkz and Sharky to have the first place. 

Chunkz turned to Sharky, his smile so bright it felt like it could light up the whole room. Causing the both to celebrate on winning the competition as Chunkz dramatically lay on the floor for a moment. The both embracing as they celebrate their rightfully deserve win.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Later that night

The kitchen clock ticked softly.

Its second hand swept in smooth, rhythmic circles, landing with quiet precision on 1:27 AM. Outside, the house was completely still no muffled laughter, no creaking floorboards, no late-night TikTok sounds leaking through doors. Just silence, wrapped around the walls like a blanket.

Inside the dim-lit kitchen, Sharky stood barefoot in front of the stove, shoulders slightly hunched, brows drawn tight in concentration. The warm under-cabinet lights cast a golden glow over the tiled backsplash, catching the faint steam rising from the pan and glinting off scattered specks of flour. A cracked eggshell lay on the counter, next to a mostly empty mixing bowl and a bag of sugar with the top hastily folded over.

He slid the spatula under the pancake with deliberate care, eyes narrowed like the batter had personally offended him.

It resisted.

The edge folded. The shape collapsed awkwardly into itself.

He sighed, heavy and defeated.

Behind him, Chunkz leaned against the island, lazily swirling a bowl of whipped cream with a spoon. He scooped out a dollop and snuck another bite, his posture loose, relaxed, his hoodie oversized and half-zipped over a vintage tee. On his feet were the ridiculous bright green dinosaur slippers, the ones Sharky had given him as a joke last Christmas.

He'd barely wrapped them. Just tossed them into a gift bag and wrote 

"For your inner extinct king."

And somehow, Chunkz still wore them.

They flopped slightly when he shifted weight between his feet, the plush tails bouncing. Paired with the hoodie and sleepy face, he looked... stupidly endearing.

Sharky's chest ached. He didn't even know why. It was just pancakes.

But no, not really.

They were meant to be a random joke but seeing Chunkz actually wear them, paired with his hoodie made Sharky's chest ache in a way he couldn't quite name.

"Bro, why are you looking at that pancake like it owes you money?" Chunkz said, his voice breaking through Sharky's concentration.

"I'm not--" Sharky started, then paused.

The pancake folded again in some abstract, tragic shape.

"Okay, fine, I might be slightly stressed" Sharky admitted in defeat as he helplessly stared at the failed pancake.

"Pancakes at 1 am? That feels illegal at most" Chunkz said with a laugh, continuing to observe Sharky.

Chunkz's laughter was warm, the kind that made you feel like the world wasn't such a bad place after all.

"First it was Kenny, and now it's you who's making the kitchen a disaster" Chunkz said with a laugh.

"Move over, Sharks. Let the master chef show you how it's done" Chunkz added as he pushed off the counter, stepping closer to Sharky.

"You? Master chef?" Sharky said sarcastically, while he stepped aside and rolling his eyes as Chunkz took over.

"Hey I won us the bake off!" Chunkz said sarcastically.

Chunkz adjusted the heat slightly and with an exaggerated flourish, Chunkz flipped the pancake effortlessly, earning an impressed noise from Sharky. It landed with a perfect sizzle, golden side up.

"How do you make everything look so easy?" Sharky asked, leaning against the fridge now, his arms folded.

His eyes lingered on the way Chunkz moved. How he was so confident, relaxed, and completely at ease even in the dead of night.

"It's all about the wrist, my guy" Chunkz replied, giving him a playful wink.

"Stick with me and you might actually learn something" Chunkz added, giving Sharky a side glance.

Sharky leaned back against the fridge, arms folded. His eyes lingered on Chunkz, not just the way he moved, but the energy around him. Relaxed. Effortless. Like the world never asked too much of him because he'd already given it so much.

Sharky opened his mouth to retort but before he could, Chunkz scooped a whipped cream with his finger and smeared it onto Sharky's nose.

For a second, Sharky froze, blinking as the cool cream spread across his skin. Chunkz grinned, completely unfazed by the weight of Sharky's stare.

"Did you just..?" Sharky asked dumbfounded.

"Yep" Chunkz leaned against the counter again, smug.

Sharky didn't think, instead he lunged, grabbing a spoonful of pancake batter and swiping it across Chunkz's cheek.

"Payback's a--" Sharky didn't even finished talking as Chunkz already cut him off.

"Oi! Not the batter!"Chunkz exaggerated, dodging Sharky's next attack and grabbing the whipped cream as a weapon.

What began as teasing escalated fast.

Pancake batter. Whipped cream. A handful of flour tossed like a snowball. Utensils grabbed as makeshift shields. Their laughter echoed wildly, bouncing off cabinets and tile. The kitchen became a war zone, sticky, chaotic, and stupid.

And perfect.

Sharky's cheeks hurt from smiling. His stomach ached from laughing. His heart was pounding for reasons he wasn't entirely ready to admit.

At some point, somewhere between a whipped cream sneak attack and Chunkz slipping slightly on the flour-dusted floor they collapsed onto the cold tiles, breathless and covered in sugar.

Whipped cream dotted Sharky's hair. A streak of batter ran across Chunkz's jaw. Their hoodies were casualties, stained with chaos and warm with body heat.

"You're terrible at pancakes and food fights" Chunkz said, still catching his breath.

"Yeah but at least I've got the best teacher" Sharky chuckled softly, looking at him.

He said it without thinking, and for a second, silence lingered again.

Chunkz didn't notice the way Sharky's gaze lingered just a little too long or how his smile softened as he looked at him. To Chunkz, it was just another late-night hangout.

"You're definitely helping me clean the whole kitchen" Chunkz said as he sat up wiping the smeared butter on his face with his shirt.

Sharky groaned dramatically, but didn't argue. He just watched as Chunkz stood up, soft curls tousled, cheeks flushed, grinning like nothing had changed.

But everything had.

He rose slowly, dragging his feet, still watching him.

They cleaned together without words, tossing paper towels, rinsing bowls, resetting the stove clock. At the very end, Sharky turned to him, hesitated, then reached up to wipe the last trace of whipped cream off Chunkz's cheek with his thumb.

Their eyes met. Just briefly.

Chunkz didn't move. Didn't flinch.

He just smiled. Wide. Unbothered.

To Chunkz, it was just another late-night hangout.

To Sharky, it was another reason.

Another one to add to the list.

Of why his heart felt so damn full.

And so heavy.

All at once.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Just as Sharky's thumb left Chunkz's cheek, and their eyes met in that split-second of quiet—

Footsteps.

Heavy, dragging ones.

From the hallway came the unmistakable thud-thud-thud of someone coming down the stairs half-asleep, and a second later, Aj emerged around the corner-hood pulled halfway over his head, phone light on, socks mismatched, and expression unreadable.

He paused.

Took in the scene.

Two grown men standing way too close to each other, cheeks smeared with batter, whipped cream on their sleeves, eyes a little too wide for a casual midnight cleanup.

Aj blinked once.

Then raised his eyebrows.

"Well, well, well..." Aj said.

Chunkz immediately stepped back and raised his hands like he was caught in the middle of a drug bust. 

"Relax, Gordon Ramsay. We're making pancakes, not confessions" Chunkz simply said.

Aj ignored him completely and turned to Sharky, one hand reaching for the bag of crisps on the counter. 

"Sharky, bro... I leave you alone for one night and you turn into a pancake batter mess?" Aj said.

Sharky's face flushed instantly, heat crawling up his neck like a betrayed secret. He coughed once, too loud and then reached for a sponge that didn't need to be used, scrubbing the already clean stove with unnecessary intensity.

"I-- it was a food fight" Sharky muttered. 

"He started it" Sharky added.

"Man said he started it, like I walked into a Year 6 playground" Aj said, cracking open the crisp bag with a loud pop. 

"Look at you. Looking like you just lost a baking challenge and your virginity" Aj added.

Chunkz laughed, a real laugh, half-bent at the waist, slapping the counter with the palm of his hand.

"Nah, that's crazy" Chunkz said as he wheezed. 

"You just woke up to violate, huh?" Chunkz added.

"Man's gotta clock in somewhere" Aj said as he shrugged, mouth full of crisps.

He wandered to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice, completely unfazed by the powdered sugar warfare still crusting the countertops. 

"Y'all doing anything else in here I should know about? Like... feelings?" Aj asked, teasingly.

Sharky nearly dropped the sponge.

"Just feeding the streets, Aj. Feeding the streets" Chunkz said as he grinned.

Aj looked between them again. His gaze lingered on Sharky, still scrubbing the same exact spot on the stove like it owed him money then on Chunkz, still smiling but slightly pink around the ears.

"Hm" Aj hummed, too pleased with himself. 

"Okay, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone" Aj added.

Sharky dropped the sponge with a clatter and turned away, grabbing a dish towel like it might hide his whole face.

"Alright, out of the kitchen. This is a restricted culinary zone now" Chunkz said as he clapped his hands once.

"Sure it is" Aj said through a smirk, already heading for the hallway. 

"Try not to make a baby in the pancake batter" Aj added.

"Your dad watches our videos" Chunkz called after him. 

"Have some respect" Chunkz added.

 "So does yours, bro!" Aj said as his laugh echoed back from the stairs.

And with that, the footsteps receded.

Silence returned. Brief. Charged.

Sharky, now facing the sink, kept his head down. His ears still red. 

"He's never letting that go" Sharky said.

Chunkz stepped beside him again, this time keeping a casual distance. He nudged Sharky gently with his elbow. 

"At least he didn't take a picture. That would've ended us" Chunkz said.

"You're lucky I didn't smear batter in your hair" Sharky said as he let out a laugh, quiet but real.

"I would've banged you in the mouth" Chunkz said jokingly as he grinned sideways.

Sharky didn't answer but the smile tugging at his lips said enough.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The house was quiet again.

The kind of quiet that only existed between 2 and 4 AM, too late for night owls, too early for early risers. The laughter had faded. The lights downstairs had been turned off. The soft hum of the heating system was the only sound accompanying Sharky now as he sat on the edge of his bed, a fresh hoodie thrown over his flour-dusted tee.

He could still smell the pancake batter faintly on his hands, even after scrubbing them clean.

He exhaled slowly, elbows resting on his knees, fingers interlocked in front of him. His phone buzzed once, an Instagram DM but he ignored it. He wasn't in the mood to pretend tonight. Not online. Not in the group chat. Not even to himself.

Aj's words were still echoing in his head.

 "Look at you. Looking like you just lost a baking challenge and your virginity"

He'd laughed in the moment. They all had. That's what they did, deflect, tease, roast, repeat. It was love in disguise. But there was something about the timing, the phrasing, the way Aj said it while Sharky was wiping whipped cream off Chunkz's face like they were in a slow-mo rom-com... that made it hit differently.

Because the worst part?

Aj wasn't wrong.

Not about the virginity bit, that was just Aj being Aj but about the way Sharky had been acting. About how unguarded he'd been. How soft. He'd forgotten himself. Dropped the sarcasm, the distance. Just been there. Present. Laughing too easily. Standing too close.

Letting Chunkz touch his face like it didn't mean anything.

But it did.

God, it did.

Sharky leaned back, falling against his pillows, staring up at the ceiling where tiny glow-in-the-dark stars still clung from a prank Niko pulled weeks ago. He hadn't taken them down. They gave his room an oddly childlike feel soft and harmless.

Just like he felt around Chunkz lately.

That was the part that messed with his head. This wasn't new. He'd known Chunkz for years. Knew the sound of his laugh, the rhythm of his footsteps, the songs he hummed under his breath when he didn't think anyone was listening. 

Knew how he cried watching Marley & Me even though he pretended it was allergies. Knew what made him tick, what made him stay up all night editing, what made him suddenly go quiet.

He'd known all of that.

So why did everything feel... different now?

Why did it feel like his body was paying attention in ways it hadn't before? 

Why did a glance feel like a pulse?

 Why did a stupid smear of whipped cream leave him short of breath?

He turned his head toward the wall, the side that faced Chunkz's room. It was quiet now. Probably asleep. Probably dreaming about something ridiculous like owning an ice cream chain or being cast in Fast & Furious 11.

Sharky let out a sigh.

He wasn't in love, was he?

That was too dramatic. Too complicated. Too dangerous.

But still... he couldn't stop thinking about how easy it had felt to just be with him. How nothing had felt performative. No cameras, no fans, no need to be the funny one, or the quiet observer, or the guy who always had a clever one-liner ready.

With Chunkz, tonight, it had just been him.

And that scared the hell out of him.

Because if he let himself lean into that feeling, really lean in, he didn't know what would happen. He didn't know if it would ruin everything or make it impossible to go back to how things were before.

But pretending nothing was changing?

That was getting harder by the minute.

His heart beat a little faster, a little heavier.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through it. To lie still. To not imagine what would happen if he walked down that hall and knocked once, softly.

To not imagine what it would be like if Chunkz opened the door.

And knew.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The light outside had just started to creep in through the blinds, grey, slow, unsure. The house was still mostly asleep. A few birds chirped outside. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.

Niko was half-sitting in bed, hoodie still on, hood up, earbuds in. He was watching something on his ipad, probably a video of a man surviving 72 hours in a bin. The volume was low. He was locked in, head tilted, mouth slightly open in that expressionless focus he got when he was too invested to blink.

Then, his door creaked.

Once.

Then again, slightly louder.

He didn't look up.

"Aj, if that's you, just say something before you haunt my hallway" Niko said.

Aj stepped inside, arms crossed, looking entirely too smug for someone who had barely slept.

"I've got news" Aj said, voice low and dramatic.

Niko blinked. Paused his video. 

"If it's about Kenny eating butter straight again for his video, I'm not interested" Niko said.

"No" Aj said, walking further into the room. 

"This is real. This is spicy" Aj added.

Niko raised one eyebrow.

Aj sat on the edge of the bed like he was delivering national gossip. 

"I caught Sharky and Chunkz in the kitchen last night" Aj said.

"Okay...?" Niko said as he blinked.

"Covered in batter" Aj said.

Niko blinked again.

"And whipped cream" Aj said.

Pause.

"...Go on" Niko said.

Aj leaned in slightly. 

"They were cleaning each other's faces, bro. Like, softly. Like it was a scene from some indie romance film" Aj said.

"Did they kiss?" Niko said as he stared at him.

"No" Aj said.

"Did they say anything mad?" Niko asked.

"No" Aj said.

"Then how do you know it wasn't just... food fight stupidity?" Niko asked.

"Because Sharky was blushing like he got caught looking at someone's search history. And Chunkz? Man was standing there like he was in a pinterest wedding shoot. I'm telling you that something was happening" Aj said as he smirked.

"Maybe it was just a moment" Niko said as he tilted his head.

"Yeah, that's the thing. It was a moment. You know Sharky. He doesn't just let people touch his face like that. Not even when Kenny sneezes pancake batter on him" Aj said as his grin widened.

"Did you say anything?" Niko asked as he looked at him for a long second.

"Oh, I violated both of them" Aj said proudly. 

"Called them lovebirds" Aj added.

"You're evil" Niko said as he laughed, covering his face with one hand.

 "Just observant" Aj said as he shrugged.

They sat in silence for a second, the energy between them shifting slightly, something unspoken simmering in the pause. Aj reached for Niko's water bottle without asking, took a sip, then leaned back against the bedframe.

"You think it's serious?" Niko asked.

Aj didn't answer immediately. He tilted his head toward the window, where early morning light was slanting through like a lazy ghost.

"I don't know" Aj said finally. 

"But Sharky looked different. Like he wasn't just laughing for camera energy. He was in it. And Chunkz... I don't even think he realized what was happening" Aj added.

Niko nodded slowly.

They both knew how close those two were but closeness was one thing. Blurred lines were another.

"Well" Niko said, sitting up straighter,

"If it is something... it's gonna come out eventually" Niko added.

 "And when it does, I'm bringing popcorn" Aj said as he smirked.

"You always do" Niko said as he chuckled.

 "You'd know" Aj said looked over at him, still grinning.

For a second, neither of them said anything.

Then Niko glanced away, just briefly and said.

 "Shut up" Niko said.

Aj didn't push it.

He just leaned back again and looked up at the ceiling.

A knowing silence passed between them, warm and unfinished.

Chapter 4: Snacks and Shenanigans

Summary:

Sharky and Chunkz went grocery shopping that turned into a chaotic grocery experience and later gets in a messy pantry cleanout together.

Tomorrow, Chunkz and Sharky woke up a little late than usual due to their midnight shenanigans.

Sharky and Chunkz woke up later than usual.

The sun was already high when Sharky cracked one eye open and groaned at the time on his phone. 11:32 AM. Not horrible. Not great either. But luckily, today was one of those rare breaks in their schedule, no shoot, no meetings, no brand calls. Just a list, a shopping cart, and the monthly Beta Squad grocery run.

Every month, there has to be a pair or three to go and get out for the whole group's groceries and this month it was time for Chunkz and Sharky to buy grocery.

And this month, it was their turn.

The drive to the supermarket was filled with sleepy silence, half-finished songs on the radio, and a quiet understanding that neither of them had fully recovered from their midnight kitchen war.

Now, inside the brightly lit aisles of their local Tesco, Sharky pushed the cart lazily, leaning on it like it was the only thing keeping him upright. One wheel squeaked with every rotation, adding a rhythmic chirp to their slow meander.

Ahead, Chunkz stood frozen in the cereal aisle, staring at a wall of colorful boxes like he was about to make a life-or-death decision. His eyes darted between two options in his hands, the expression on his face a mix of existential crisis and snack obsession.

"Bro, it's not that deep you can just grab one and let's go" Sharky said, resting his chin on the cart handle and stifling a yawn as Chunkz shot him a look over his shoulder.

"Do I look like someone who settles for just any cereal? This is serious business"  Chunkz said, returning his gaze over the two boxes of cereal.

Chunkz held up two contenders, Cinnamon Toast Crunch in one hand, Frosted Flakes in the other, like a cereal duel was about to go down.

"Both" Sharky said with a casual shrug.

"You're a genius. Why didn't I think of that?" Chunkz said as his expression lit up, like Sharky had just unlocked a new realm of possibilities.

Five minutes later, their cart looked like it belonged to someone preparing for a snack apocalypse. Bags of crisps teetered precariously on top of cartons of juice, and a box of donuts was crammed between tubs of ice cream.

"This is why we can't go shopping together" Sharky teased, laughing as Chunkz tossed yet another bag of crisps into the cart.

"Nah, this is exactly why we should" Chunkz replied, nudging Sharky with his shoulder.

"Who else is gonna stop me from buying plain salted crisps like a dry guy?" Chunkz added, casually tossing in another bag of spicy crisps.

"You are a dry guy" Sharky said, dodging a playful slap to the back of his head.

As they rounded the corner into the snacks aisle, Sharky's eyes lit up as an idea sparked up in his head.

"Oi, you know what would be jokes?" Sharky asked with a grin on his face.

"What?" Chunkz said with a raised eyebrow, already wary.

"Let me sit in the cart" Sharky said casually as if he talking about the weather.

"You're not serious" Chunkz said as he stared at him blankly.

"I'm deadly serious" Sharky said,.

Before Chunkz could protest again, Sharky was already climbing over the side like a grown child sneaking onto a playground ride. The cart creaked ominously, the metal groaning under the added weight.

"Brother, man, you're too big for this!" Chunkz protested, grabbing the handle as if the cart might collapse under Sharky's weight.

"Don't be dramatic. It's solid" Sharky argued, grinning like a kid.

"This guy, man" Chunkz said as he let out a sigh of defeat.

"Come on, push me. Please?" Sharky said pleadingly as he looked at Chunkz.

"You're lucky that I rate you, you know that?" Chunkz said his expression a mix of exasperation and amusement.

"Yeah, yeah. Now push!" Sharky said, clapping his hands like he was commanding a horse.

Reluctantly, Chunkz started pushing the cart, which wobbled slightly under Sharky's weight at first as Chunkz tried settling to his push with Sharky's added weight. Sharky sat cross-legged in the basket, his arms resting on the edge as he surveyed the store like he was royalty being chauffeured around.

"You're loving this too much" Chunkz muttered, shaking his head but unable to hide the small smile creeping onto his face.

"This is the life" Sharky declared dramatically, holding up a bag of crisps like it was a trophy.

They zipped through the aisles, , weaving between unsuspecting shoppers. Chunkz picking up speed and making sharp turns just to mess with him. Sharky clung to the sides, laughing uncontrollably as their cart nearly skidded into a display of canned beans.

"You're gonna get us kicked out" Sharky said between breaths, though he didn't seem the least bit concerned.

"Me? You're the one sitting in the cart like a child" Chunkz retorted, his grin widening as he made another sudden swerve.

By the time they reached the checkout, Sharky reluctantly climbed out of the cart, still laughing as he helped Chunkz unload their haul onto the conveyor belt.

"Well, that was fun" Sharky said with a smug look.

"You're such a child, man" Chunkz said, slightly shaking his head with a small smile.

As they unloaded their loot onto the conveyor belt, Sharky looked over at him.

This.

This was what made the world feel right. Ridiculous, chaotic, unpredictable but right. There were no cameras, no crew, no pressure. Just him and Chunkz and some overpriced cereal. And maybe that shouldn't have meant anything. But for some reason?

It meant everything.

As they wheeled the bags out to the car and loaded the boot full of snacks, Sharky caught himself smiling again. The kind of smile that just happened without trying.

And for a brief moment, he wondered if liking Chunkz's company this much was still something he could ignore.

Because the truth was?

He didn't want to.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The house had settled into that familiar post-lunch lull.

Soft music played from someone's room upstairs, probably Kenny's lo-fi playlist again and the distant sound of controller clicks and muffled trash talk echoed faintly from the living room. It was calm, unusually so.

Down in the kitchen, Sharky and Chunkz were knee-deep in the aftermath of their grocery run.

Plastic bags surrounded them, paper receipts fluttering on the countertop, and snack boxes sprawled out like fallen dominoes. The fridge door had already been opened so many times it was starting to beep in protest.

Sharky stood next to the pantry, eyes scanning the small, overstuffed cupboard.

"We need to make room" Sharky said, pulling open a door to the small pantry closet.

"Good luck with that. That closet's been a disaster since day one" Chunkz said as he glanced up from where he was organizing crisps into a unsteady tower.

Sharky, determined, started pulling things out of the overstuffed closet. Boxes of random items, a few stray cans, and even an old Nerf gun were piled onto the floor.

"You're like a raccoon digging through a bin" Chunkz said with a chuckle, watching Sharky wrestle with a particularly stubborn storage bin.

"Stop standing there like a statue and help me" Sharky said, huffing as he tugged at the bin.

Chunkz sighed with exaggerated drama but walked over. 

"Alright, alright" Chunkz said.

Together, they grabbed the bin and yanked it, only for the entire stack of items on top of it to come tumbling down around them.

Disaster.

They ended up pressed awkwardly together inside the small pantry space. Sharky's back hit the wall. Chunkz, half-crouched, half-pinned, was now inches in front of him.

"Now, you've literally backed us into a corner" Chunkz muttered, looking around at the mess.

"It's not my fault the closet was a death trap" Sharky said, his voice a little higher than usual as he realized just how close they were.

There wasn't a lot of space. Actually, there was no space. Their arms touched at the elbow. Sharky could feel the warmth of Chunkz's hoodie against his own sleeve. Their knees almost bumped with every tiny shift.

He swallowed, heartbeat tapping faster in his chest.

Too close. Too much.

"You look like you've seen a ghost" Chunkz said as he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating in the confined area.

"I'm just trying not to suffocate" Sharky said neutrally as possible, trying to play it cool despite his racing heart.

"You're acting weird" Chunkz said as he raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not!" Sharky said quickly, too quickly.

"You're not claustrophobic or something, are you?" Chunkz said ,tilting his head and his eyes narrowing playfully with a hint of seriousness behind it.

"No, just.. uh, it's a bit cramped in here, that's all" Sharky said, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah, mad" Chunkz replied, leaning slightly to the side to adjust his position and accidentally brushing against Sharky again.

That light, unintentional contact sent a jolt through Sharky's nerves. His hands twitched slightly. The tension was palpable, the air charged with something that neither of them was ready to name.

Sharky glanced up, and regretted it immediately.

Chunkz's face was right there.

Close.

And for once, the usual easy smile was gone. His expression was softer now. Curious. Like he was noticing things too.

Like maybe the silence between them wasn't empty.

Then.

"Oi, you two lovebirds gonna come out of there or should we leave you to it?" A voice called out.

Niko.

Sharky's head whipped around so fast he nearly hit the shelf.

Niko stood at the kitchen doorway, leaning casually with his arms crossed, that signature smirk already in place like he'd been waiting for this exact moment. His eyes sparkled with mischief.

Why does Niko always have to notice everything? 

Sharky is almost convinced that the other man gotta be monitoring their moves or something

"Don't start" Chunkz said, his voice laced with amusement. Ignoring Niko's comment like it was a usual joke.

"We were organizing the closet" Sharky added quickly, trying to ignore how flustered he felt.

"Yeah sure, organizing"  Niko replied, his smirk widening. 

"Yeah, that's mental" Chunkz said as he shook his head, brushing his off his shirt.

Niko snorted, clearly satisfied with himself. 

"I'll let you two get back to your... logistics" Niko said.

As he wandered away, whistling a suspiciously romantic tune, Sharky exhaled. Loudly.

He hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath.

Chunkz didn't seem to notice the way Sharky avoided looking at him as they began clearing the fallen items from the floor, but something unspoken hung heavy in the space between them.

Every time their fingers brushed over a can or box, Sharky's pulse kicked up again.

Sharky couldn't help but think about how close they'd been and how, for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away.

Sharky and Chunkz finished clearing out the mess in silence, though the air between them felt anything but calm. 

"So, what's the verdict? Are we just shoving it all back in or trying to make it look decent?" Chunkz asked eventually, his voice breaking the silence.

"Let's do it properly. No point in making this a death trap again" Sharky said as he glanced at the now half-emptied closet.

They began organizing in rhythm, quietly moving boxes, restacking the shelves. The practical task didn't distract Sharky as much as he'd hoped.

Chunkz moved with ease, lifting, stacking, adjusting and utterly unaware of the effect he had just by being near.

Sharky glanced sideways again, longer this time.

Too long.

"You good?" Chunkz asked, catching Sharky mid-glance.

"Yeah, fine" Sharky said quickly, pretending to focus on sorting snacks into neat piles.

"You're acting jumpy, you know that?" Chunkz said as he chuckled, his tone teasing.

"No, I'm not" Sharky said, a little too fast.

"Top shelf, might as well make yourself useful" Chunkz said as he gave him a skeptical look but didn't press further. Instead, he grabbed a box of biscuits and handed it to Sharky.

Sharky rolled his eyes but took the box, reaching up to place it on the shelf. As he stretched, his shirt lifted slightly, exposing a sliver of his waist. 

He didn't notice.

But Chunkz did.

His eyes flicked there for a split second, just a flicker before he turned away.

Neither of them said anything.

Once they'd finally cleared the floor and organized the last of the clutter, Sharky stepped back and surveyed their work.

"Not bad" Sharky said, trying to sound casual despite the lingering tension in the air.

"Not bad?" Chunkz echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Alright, fine. We're legends" Sharky said as he laughed softly, the sound easing some of the awkwardness.

"That's more like it" Chunkz said with a grin and leaned against the counter.

Chunkz leaned against the counter, his smile relaxed, but something about the quiet between them had changed.

Sharky felt it. He knew it. And he wanted to say something, anything but couldn't.

Then.

"Oi, you two done yet?" Niko's voice rang out from the living room, startling them both.

"Yeah, yeah!" Chunkz called back, shaking his head with a small smile.

They stepped out of the pantry. The moment passed.

But the feeling didn't.

Sharky couldn't shake it. The way the world had felt like it stopped for a second inside that tight space. The way everything had narrowed down to breath, warmth, and the impossible closeness of someone who'd always been just a little too easy to love.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The upstairs lounge was dimly lit, the ceiling lights off except for one desk lamp casting a soft yellow glow across the room. Niko lay stretched out on the massive beanbag they kept in the corner, his legs dangling dramatically off the edge, phone held above his face, scrolling aimlessly.

Aj sat backwards on the swivel chair nearby, his arms crossed over the top of the chairback, watching Niko like he was waiting for him to say something stupid so he could immediately violate.

The room was quiet except for the distant hum of Sharky and Chunkz's voices down in the kitchen, faint and muffled through the floorboards.

Aj looked up from his phone first.

"So... pantry-gate" Aj said.

Niko snorted without even looking up. 

"Oh, now we're naming it" Niko said.

"Historic moment" Aj said dryly. 

"Gotta archive it properly" Aj added.

"You saw the way Sharky jumped when I said lovebirds, yeah?" Niko said as he lowered his phone, smirking.

"Bro nearly teleported" Aj said, chuckling. 

"Looked like you caught him watching something he shouldn't be" Aj added.

"Chunkz just acted like it was nothing" Niko said.

"But I don't know... he had this little grin, like he knew exactly how it looked" Niko added.

They both fell silent for a moment.

"Okay but real talk, do you think something's actually going on?" Aj asked as he tilted his head, thoughtful now.

Niko rolled over onto his stomach like he was settling in for a podcast episode. 

"At first I thought it was just the usual bromance vibes. You know how they are. Banter. Touchy. Clowning each other" Niko said.

"Yeah, yeah. Standard" Aj said as he nodded.

"But lately?" Niko continued, squinting slightly like the evidence was lined up in front of him. 

"It's felt... different" Niko added.

Aj leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of the chair. 

"I thought I was tripping. But remember game night? When we were violating each other during Monopoly?" Aj said.

"And Sharky didn't roast anyone?" Niko said.

"Yes!" Aj said as he sat up straighter. 

"He just sat there, all quiet, like he was watching a slow-motion romantic drama unfold in his head" Aj added.

 "Plus, every time I say something even remotely sus about the two of them, Sharky freezes" Niko said.

"Classic panic reaction" Niko added as he nodded sagely.

"Man turns into Windows 95" Aj muttered. 

"Just buffering" Aj added.

They both paused again, the weight of their shared conspiracy slowly building.

"Okay, hear me out" Niko said, serious now. 

"What if Sharky's caught feelings?" Niko added.

Aj blinked. 

"Like... actual feelings?" Aj asked.

"I'm saying it's possible. Think about it-- he's been off lately. Quieter. Not in a bad way, just... off" Niko said.

 "And Chunkz?" Aj asked as he scratched his jaw.

Niko exhaled through his nose. 

"That's the thing. I don't know if he knows" Niko said.

"You think he'd be cool with it?" Aj asked.

"Honestly?" Niko said as he shrugged. 

"Chunkz has the emotional awareness of a puppy but the heart of a saint. If Sharky confessed tomorrow, he wouldn't shut it down, he'd sit with it" Niko added.

"And Sharky's too in his head. Overthinking every little thing. Trying to act normal while failing miserably" Aj said as he leaned back in the chair again, arms crossed.

"So what do we do?" Niko asked.

 "Absolutely nothing" Aj said as he paused, lips quirking into a grin.

"Nothing?" Niko asked.

"Bro" Aj said, leaning in conspiratorially.

"This is premium content. You know how long it's been since we had something this entertaining without even trying?" Aj added.

Niko laughed, nodding. 

"You're right. Let it cook" Niko said.

"Exactly" Aj said. 

"Let them have their weird little longing glances. Let Chunkz keep accidentally brushing Sharky's hand. Let Sharky keep staring at him like he's the final boss in a romcom" Aj added.

They high-fived without even moving from their spots.

Then fell into silence again.

But behind the jokes, there was something quiet in the air, an unspoken understanding that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't just content.

It might actually be real.

Notes:

y'know I got the idea of Sharky sitting in a cart in the beta squad video race across UK lmao, the picking for gift part you can see that Sharky is literally sitting in their cart.

Chapter 5: Escape Room Challenge

Summary:

Chunkz, Sharky, and Niko dominating their escape room challenge while the other team struggles that leads them to a victorious yet chaotic outcome.

The Beta Squad had decided to try out an escape room for their latest vlog. It was meant to be a quick challenge but it was bound to spiral into utter chaos. 

The room itself was impressively decorated, low lighting cast long shadows across faded wallpaper, crooked paintings lined the walls, and towering bookshelves gave off that faint musty smell that made you feel like you were in the middle of a Victorian mystery novel. A mechanical raven sat on a perch in the corner, its glass eyes unnervingly still.

Chunkz, Sharky, and Niko formed Team A. On the other side of the thick wooden divider, Team B with Darkest, Kenny, and Aj were locked in their own version of panic.

From the second they entered, Chunkz was locked in. 

He charged forward with the enthusiasm of a man who thought solving the escape room would win him citizenship, a record deal, and a Netflix special all in one go. 

He flung open drawers with reckless abandon, patted down bookshelves, crouched low to inspect beneath furniture like he was auditioning for Sherlock: Somali Edition.

"We need to find the key or something!" Chunkz said, his voice booming as if he'd cracked the secret of the universe.

Sharky stood to the side, arms crossed, watching him with a smirk playing at his lips. The dim lighting gave Chunkz this wild, almost heroic look, framed in golden tones, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes lit with focus.

It made Sharky's chest feel weird. Tight.

There he goes again, Sharky thought, watching Chunkz throw himself into the task like he was trying to physically bend the room into submission. There was something stupidly magnetic about it, how unselfconsciously animated he was, how even in something as dumb as an escape room, Chunkz made the whole thing feel like it mattered.

"Why are you just standing there?" Chunkz said as he looked over his shoulder, clearly too focused on the task to notice the way Sharky was watching him.

"I'm letting you do all the work. I'm just here for moral support" Sharky said with a wink.

"Morale" Niko corrected flatly from across the room. 

He was crouched beside an antique desk, squinting down at a jigsaw puzzle that looked like it was designed by demons.

"You two are useless" Niko said.

"I'm doing my part, keeping the moral up in this team" Sharky said back, grinning.

Chunkz paused for a second, looking at Sharky with a half-amused, half-serious expression.

"You're lucky I'm carrying us" Chunkz said, throwing his hands up.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure it's all you" Sharky teased, though his smile was a little too soft to be completely teasing.

Niko, still fiddling with the puzzle, glanced between the two of them. His eyebrow lifted slowly, silently.

"I really don't know if I should be offended or something" Niko said, scrambling for clues.

"Some of us are actually contributing" Niko added.

"Boom! Secret compartment. Man's a genius" Chunkz said as he stood upright suddenly.

"That's my goat" Sharky said as he clapped slowly.

"You're not even pretending to help" Niko said as he blinked.  

"I'm documenting his greatness" Sharky shot back.

As the timer ticked downward, pressure mounted.

The room's ambient lighting pulsed once, and a loud clock chime echoed through the space. Chunkz started pacing, checking walls for hidden panels. Niko muttered words under his breath as he flipped through an old ledger. Sharky eventually gave in and started searching the spines of dusty books, if only to avoid Niko's mounting side-eye.

But through it all, Sharky kept stealing glances.

Chunkz was in his element. Solving clues, taking charge, grinning wide every time he got something right. And every time he brushed past Sharky, reaching for a clue, pointing out a riddle, laughing as he nearly tripped over a prop rug, Sharky's heart did that thing again.

That annoying, fluttery thing.

One time, their shoulders brushed as they both reached for the same locked box. The contact lasted barely a second, but Sharky felt it like a spark to the chest.

He stepped back, pretending to study the floor.

Focus. You're in an escape room. Not a fanfiction.

"I think this painting's a riddle" Chunkz said suddenly, snapping Sharky out of it. 

"It's got symbols. One of them's glowing red" Chunkz added.

"Looks like a code" Sharky said as he stepped closer, peering at the canvas.

"Bet" Chunkz said as he moved beside him, their arms touching briefly again as he pointed to the corners.

Sharky cleared his throat. 

"Try inputting 'DEAD'-- that word keeps showing up everywhere" Sharky said.

"Dead?" Chunkz said, eyebrows raised. 

"Why's that your go-to guess, man?" Chunkz asked.

"Just a vibe" Sharky muttered.

 "You're both gonna be dead if we don't get out in five minutes" Niko said as he looked up.

"Relax" Chunkz said, already fiddling with the lock on the chest beneath the painting. 

"I've got it" Chunkz added.

Sharky stayed close, maybe too close, but Chunkz didn't seem to mind. In fact, every time he figured out a clue, he looked at Sharky first, like he was waiting for that reaction, that nod, that quiet grin Sharky always gave him.

As the chest clicked open and revealed the final key, the room buzzed with artificial fanfare and dramatic music played through hidden speakers.

Team A Escaped in 52:17.

They'd done it.

"Let's gooo!" Chunkz shouted, jumping in place as the hidden exit door swung open.

Niko groaned. 

"Thank God. I was about to start chewing on the walls" Niko said.

Sharky laughed, letting out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

The tension from the room evaporated, replaced with celebration and light teasing. But even as they walked out to meet the other team, who were still screaming about which clue they'd missed, Sharky kept feeling that echo of the moment.

That silence in between the laughter.

That brush of a shoulder.

That look when they figured something out together.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Meanwhile, the other team, trapped in their own struggle, was having... well, a very different experience. 

The room had the same eerie, Victorian mystery aesthetic: dusty wallpaper, fake candle sconces, and strange diagrams drawn on chalkboards. But unlike Team A, who were charging through puzzles with mild flirtation and Sherlock-level sleuthing, Team B was spiraling. Fast.

Darkest crouched by a wall, frowning so hard it looked like he was trying to solve a Rubik's cube with sheer energy. His fingers twisted the dials of a combination lock mounted beside a bookshelf, eyes darting between a sequence of Roman numerals on the wall and a painting of a sad-looking parrot.

"This doesn't make any sense!" Darkest grumbled.

"Have you tried just, like... guessing?" Kenny asked from across the room, not even pretending to help.

He was sat on the floor like a child in timeout, staring blankly at a grid of glowing colored lights embedded in a fake control panel. The lights blinked in patterns that seemed to mean something but Kenny's brain had checked out ten minutes ago.

"How does this even work? What's with these lights?" Kenny said, still staring helplessly everywhere.

 "Why is it blue, red, green, blue, purple? What's the purple for? Where does the purple GO?!" Kenny added.

Aj was pacing the room like a madman, waving what looked like a torn-up treasure map in both hands.

"We're missing something. It's like we're so close but we can't figure it out!" Aj said.

The sound of their suffering echoed through the walls as the other team continued to struggle. There was a tense silence between their shouts and the occasional thud of frustration.

Darkest groaned. 

"I swear this puzzle was written by someone on ayahuasca" Darkest said.

"No, actually, they made it personal" Kenny said. 

"They designed this room specifically so we would fail" Kenny added.

"I'm not even sure this is a real puzzle anymore" Aj muttered, turning the map upside down. 

"What if this is all fake? What if there's no way out? What if this is all just a social experiment to expose how dumb we are?" Aj said.

"If I die in here, I want my funeral sponsored. Don't just bury me. Brand me. Get Nando's to cater it" Darkest said as he stood up abruptly.

Kenny groaned again, now lying fully on the floor like he had emotionally surrendered.

Aj, still flipping the same four torn map pieces in different configurations, stopped and narrowed his eyes at a framed poem on the wall.

"...Wait. Hold on" Aj said.

"You've got something?" Darkest said as he turned.

"No, I just realized this poem is in Comic Sans" Aj said with a laugh.

They all paused in stunned silence.

Then.

"We're in hell" Darkest whispered.

Through the walls, they could hear the distant victory shouts of Team A, Chunkz yelling something triumphant, Niko laughing in that obnoxiously victorious tone, and Sharky shouting "That's my GOAT!"

Aj blinked. 

"They escaped?" Aj asked.

Kenny sighed into the floor.

 "Of course they did" Kenny said.

"I swear, if Chunkz walks in here bragging--" Aj said.

The door unlocked suddenly with a soft beep. A voice played from the intercom above.

"Assistance override activated. Time expired. Escape incomplete"

The lights in the room turned bright white. The illusion was over.

They'd failed.

Miserably.

Aj collapsed onto the nearest armchair with a heavy sigh.

"Never again" Aj said.

 "I hope this room collapses out of pure shame" Darkest said as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

Kenny looked at the camera in the ceiling. 

"Run us a redemption arc next episode, please" Kenny said.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The door opened with a dramatic creak that was definitely artificial, and just a little bit petty.

Team A stepped into the escape room lobby like victors returning from battle. Chunkz led the charge, Niko trailing behind with an obnoxious swagger, and Sharky bringing up the rear, his hands in his pockets and a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth that he was barely suppressing.

Meanwhile, Team B looked like they'd been through a war zone and lost every fight.

"This is rigged!" Darkest said.

"You can't be talking like that when Kenny was on your side" Niko said, pointing out to Kenny and laughing afterwards.

"Wow, that's unnecessary" Kenny said, dropping his head into his hands. 

"I can't believe we lost to those guys" Kenny said as he dropped his head into his hands.

"What? They got one, two, three of the most smartest in the group and you're telling me this is fair?" Aj said exaggeratedly pointing them out one by one. 

 "And we had... Kenny" Aj added.

"I told you, we should've tried the bookshelf first" Kenny said to Darkest.

Darkest's eyes widened, mock furious. 

"Don't talk to me about the bookshelf. You kept rearranging the books by color!" Darkest yelled with a laugh.

"It made sense in the moment!" Kenny shouted.

"Did it? Did it?!" Darkest asked.

Sharky, on the other hand, had to fight to keep a straight face. He glanced over at the other team, where they were slumped in defeat and couldn't help but chuckle under his breath. While Niko slapped Chunkz on the back.

"That's how it's done, my guy" Niko said, resting his arm around Chunkz as they watched the other group bickering.

"Of course. I told you it was a team effort" Chunkz said with a smile.

"Team effort where you yelled the whole time and somehow got everything right" Niko muttered, half amused, half bewildered.

Chunkz just grinned wider.

As the full squad gathered in the lobby for the final scoreboard and wrap-up shots, the tension between the two teams hung thick in the air. The vlog crew buzzed around them, packing up cameras and wrapping cables, but the boys were still in full post-game mode.

Darkest sat down on the edge of a coffee table like he was mourning his own brain cells. Kenny stood nearby, still trying to calculate how they'd managed to fail so spectacularly. Aj kept folding and unfolding his arms like he couldn't decide if he was cold, annoyed, or both.

"I'll admit, you guys did well. Too well" Aj said as he folded his arms, looking up at the ceiling.

"We're just built different" Sharky said, casually tossing his key in the air.

Aj rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. 

"Built annoying, maybe" Aj said.

Chunkz cackled while Sharky gave an exaggerated bow.

"At least you lost with heart" Niko said as he leaned over to Aj.

"We lost with Kenny" Aj muttered.

"Fair point" Niko said.

As the group began filtering toward the exit and the crew shouted instructions for final vlog shots, Sharky found himself drifting naturally toward Chunkz. He didn't even think about it. It was like his body had its own instincts now, just quietly migrating closer, like it was where he was supposed to be.

Chunkz was still glowing from the win, laughing with Niko about some joke from inside the room. Sharky stood beside him, close but not too close, just within range to hear him clearly, to catch that familiar warmth radiating off him like secondhand sunlight.

Sharky couldn't stop smiling.

He glanced over at Chunkz, who glanced back, and for a second they just exchanged that unspoken, victorious look, the kind that said we did that, without needing to say anything at all.

In that tiny moment, Sharky forgot everything else.

He forgot how weird he'd been feeling lately. He forgot the way his heart sped up when they brushed shoulders, or the ridiculous amount of times he'd found himself watching Chunkz laugh like it was the most important thing in the room.

In that moment, there was just this.

A win. A laugh.

And Chunkz's smile like it was made to be in Sharky's field of vision.

The crew packed up, the others sulked, the vlog footage wrapped.

But Sharky stuck close, subtly, easily, like it was second nature. Because it was. And though his brain itched with the mess he hadn't sorted through yet, his heart felt full.

Full of laughter. Full of victory.

Full of something bigger that he couldn't name.

Not yet.

But he didn't need to.

For now, they'd won. They'd laughed. And in the chaos of it all, they were exactly where they needed to be.

 

////_////_////_////

 

It started off innocent enough.

The editors had just sat down to piece together the escape room vlog footage, hours of shaky camera angles, mic'd up chaos, and one too many close-ups of Chunkz screaming like he discovered a portal to another realm.

Then Aj and Niko walked in.

"Yo, let us see what you've got so far" Niko said, already dragging a chair next to the main editing monitor.

Aj didn't even wait for permission. He sat down, legs spread, arms folded, eyes locked in like he was reviewing CCTV footage for a crime that hadn't been solved.

The editor, who had seen this movie before just sighed in defeat and clicked play.

First frame: Chunkz pushing open the escape room door, chest puffed out, eyes wild.

Aj leaned forward immediately.

"Why did he look like he's about to lead us into Narnia" Aj said.

Niko cackled. 

"He's walking like he's the chosen one. Like the room's gonna part for him" Niko said.

The footage cut to Sharky walking in behind him, hands in his pockets, cool and unbothered.

"Look at Sharky. Why is he moving like he's too good for puzzles?" Aj said.

"He's giving 'I'm only here for vibes and soft lighting'" Niko said as he nodded.

The editor jumped forward a few minutes to the moment Chunkz screamed.

 "WE NEED A KEY OR SOMETHING!" 

Aj nearly fell out of his chair. 

"Man shouted like he was summoning the Avengers" Aj said.

"Like the clue was gonna hear him and manifest itself" Niko added.

The video played Sharky standing against the wall, watching. Quiet. Amused. A little... soft.

The screen froze.

"Zoom. Enhance" Aj said as he pointed.

The editor sighed but did it.

Sharky's eyes lingered on Chunkz. Just a second too long.

Aj turned slowly to Niko.

Niko was already looking at him.

"Do you see what I see?" Aj asked.

"That is the gaze of a man who'd rather be trapped in a pantry" Niko said solemnly.

"Fam..." Aj said as he leaned back, one hand to his chest.

"He's looking at Chunkz like he just solved him emotionally" Niko said.

"I don't even look at food like that" Niko added.

The editor scrubbed forward. They landed on Niko at the jigsaw puzzle, scowling.

"Wait, pause" Aj said. 

"This is important" Aj added.

The editor froze it.

Niko's face looked like he had just been told basic math was a conspiracy.

"This is the moment Niko realizes he's been paired with romcom extras" Aj said as he pointed again.

"This was the moment I considered betrayal" Niko said.

"Honestly" Aj said.

"You did the God's work. You carried" Aj added.

"Say that again but into the camera" Niko said, pretending to wipe a tear.

More footage played. The timer ticking down, Chunkz solving a clue, Sharky tossing a key in the air.

"Oi, pause it there" Aj said as he squinted at Sharky.

 "Why is he smirking like he's in a perfume ad?" Aj asked.

"He's giving 'Eau de Chunkz'" Niko said.

The editor choked on a sip of coffee.

Now came Team B footage, the other room.

Darkest fumbling with a lock.

"Zoom in" Niko said as his voice was dead serious.

The lock was upside down. Entirely.

"He was solving it from the wrong side?" Aj said as he clutched his head. 

"Man was doing reverse engineering like he's on Mythbusters" Niko said.

Kenny appeared on screen, poking the flashing lights in confusion.

Aj let out the longest sigh known to mankind. 

"This man looks like he's trying to talk to aliens" Aj said.

"Why is he blinking back at the lights like it's a hostage negotiation?" Niko added.

Aj stood up and mimicked Kenny.

"Red... blue... green... purple? Purple?" Aj said.

Niko howled.

Then came the outro footage. Both teams together. Chunkz being smug. Sharky tossing the key. Aj folded his arms in real-time, mirroring the moment in the footage.

"I knew I was salty, but I didn't know it was that visible" Aj said.

"You looked like you were seconds away from flipping the key out of his hand mid-air" Niko said.

"Can you edit my arms not being crossed?" Aj asked as he looked at the editor.

"Absolutely not" James said.

"Unbelievable" Aj said.

The last clip was Sharky quietly drifting closer to Chunkz in the background, barely on-camera but... enough.

Niko raised a brow.

"Man's drifting like he's being pulled by invisible string" Aj said.

Niko nodded solemnly. 

"Magnetic pull. Gravitation of the heart" Niko said.

Aj clapped once. 

"This video? Gonna be a banger. But more importantly-- I want the extended cut of their tension" Aj said.

"I want slow-mo. Dramatic music" Niko said.

"I want Sharky's gaze subtitled like an anime inner monologue" Aj said.

The editor just closed the laptop.

"I'm out" James said, rubbing the back of his head.

Chapter 6: Too Close for Comfort

Summary:

The squad spends a casual day at the park, playing games and joking around, while Sharky struggles to focus during a FIFA match against Chunkz.

It was supposed to be nothing.

A throwaway day. A reset. No cameras. No fans. No shoots. No one on high alert.

The kind of day where you didn't need to do anything. The kind where doing nothing was the entire point.

They'd brought snacks, crisps, fizzy drinks, biscuits someone forgot to seal last night. Someone had brought a half-deflated football. A random deck of cards had been pulled from someone's drawer that morning like it was destiny.

Now, beneath a wide-sprawling oak tree at the edge of the park, Beta Squad had claimed a picnic table like it was sacred ground.

Sunlight dappled through the branches above, dotting the worn wood in patches of gold. The occasional breeze passed through, enough to ruffle hair and carry the lazy, familiar sound of London traffic in the distance.

Kenny and Darkest were in their own universe, locked in a shouting match over the rules of a card game that neither of them seemed to fully understand.

"You can't play a draw four on a reverse!" Kenny said.

"This isn't Uno, you fraud! This is literal cards!" Darkest.

"That's not even a real rule!" Kenny said.

"YOU'RE not a real rule!" Darkest said.

Aj lay stretched out on the grass nearby, one arm over his face to block the sun, half-snoring and half-muttering commentary. He sounded like a football pundit who'd seen too much.

"Dead tactics. No midfield control. Kenny's washed" Aj said.

Niko sat leaning against the edge of the table, phone in hand, thumb flicking through his feed with a face of carefully curated detachment.

And Sharky?

He sat at the far end of the bench, stretched out with his legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded behind his head, eyes closed. The sun soaked into his skin. His chest rose and fell in rhythm with the breeze.

He wasn't really listening. Not to the arguing. Not to the occasional muttered insult from the grass. Not even to the faint rustle of leaves overhead.

He was just... breathing.

That was the rare part.

Until Chunkz plopped down beside him.

His presence arrived like it always did, loud but warm, like a friendly thunderclap. Phone in hand, scrolling through TikToks with the sound on half-muted. Every few seconds he burst into laughter, those deep, unfiltered laughs that made people turn to look even if they didn't know what was funny.

Sharky smiled without opening his eyes. Just the sound of it, Chunkz laughing nearby and somehow pulled the corners of his mouth upward on instinct.

It was weird how one laugh could do that. Weird how one person could make the quiet feel more alive.

Then came the nudge.

"Oi, Sharky, you're missing it" Chunkz said, nudging him with his elbow.

"Missing what?" Sharky asked, cracking one eye open.

"This man Kenny is trying to cheat, fam. Look at him, bold as anything" Chunkz said, gesturing dramatically toward the card game.

"He's just proving the riggery rumor" Chunkz added with a laugh.

"I'll take your word for it. Too comfy to move" Sharky said as he chuckled, shaking his head.

 "Lazy guy" Chunkz said as he laughed.

And then, without warning he draped an arm across Sharky's shoulders.

Casual. Effortless. Like it meant nothing.

And maybe to Chunkz, it didn't.

But to Sharky?

It felt like a brick to the chest.

He didn't move. Couldn't. Just kept his eyes closed, kept his breath steady, kept the smile soft on his lips like he wasn't short-circuiting inside.

It was a familiar gesture. Chunkz was like that with everyone, a hand on your back, a shoulder squeeze, a nudge, a headlock mid-conversation. It was part of who he was. He loved loudly. No one questioned it.

But somehow, this felt different.

The moment Chunkz's arm settled around him, Sharky froze. Not outwardly because he was careful not to give anything away but internally, his thoughts were spiraling. 

His heart thudded in his chest as he became very aware of every point of contact. The warmth of Chunkz's arm, the gentle pressure of his hand resting against Sharky's arm, the way their shoulders pressed together.

He told himself it was nothing. Chunkz had done this a thousand times before with all of them. It didn't mean anything.

Sharky felt everything, the warmth of Chunkz's arm against the back of his neck, the soft fabric of his hoodie brushing his shoulder, the subtle pressure where their bodies leaned together. It was nothing. And it was everything.

His mind spiraled.

Was he imagining this?

Had it always felt this way?

Was he broken?

Was he in love?

And yet, Sharky couldn't stop the flood of thoughts that followed. 

Why does this feel different? 

Why does this feel... right?

"You good, yeah?" Chunkz asked, glancing at him. 

His voice was still light, but there was something quieter in his eyes. Something thoughtful.

Sharky sat up a little straighter, adjusting his position, careful not to shrug off the arm completely.

"Yeah, all good. Just... tired" Sharky said quickly, his voice a little too high. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to relax.

Chunkz raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He leaned back, arm still resting lightly around Sharky, his gaze drifting back to the card game that had now devolved into Kenny yelling "this is why I don't play with you!" at absolutely no one.

Sharky tried to focus on that. On the others. On Aj now using a crisp bag as a sun visor. On Niko filming Kenny's meltdown in cinematic slow motion.

But his mind kept drifting.

To the arm.

To the way he fit into the curve of Chunkz's side.

To how... right it felt.

He wanted to stay there. He wanted to run.

He wanted to bottle this second and never open it again.

So instead, he just sat still, laughed when the others laughed, nodded when someone made a joke, and tried not to wonder what would happen if he turned his head just slightly to the right.

Close enough to meet Chunkz's eyes.

Close enough to ask a question he wasn't ready to hear the answer to.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Across the table, Niko watched.

He was the picture of nonchalance, slouched back on the bench, phone in hand, thumb flicking across the screen in lazy, distracted arcs. But his eyes? They weren't on TikTok. They were locked on Sharky and Chunkz.

And they were seeing everything.

He caught it the second it happened, the way Sharky's posture shifted the moment Chunkz's arm landed around him. It wasn't dramatic. Sharky didn't flinch or tense. In fact, from a distance, he looked perfectly at ease.

But Niko had known Sharky too long not to notice the signs.

That subtle inhale.

The extra second of stillness.

The way Sharky's head tilted, just slightly, like his thoughts had slipped out of sync with the world.

His smile was there, but it was too tight at the corners. His laugh? A fraction too quick. It wasn't the deep, unbothered cackle Sharky usually threw at Aj's violations or Kenny's nonsense.

No, it was measured. Controlled.

Covered.

Chunkz, naturally, remained oblivious. Not because he didn't care, but because he was Chunkz, loud, warm, and tactile in a way that made people feel at home. His laugh boomed out across the grass as he joked about Kenny trying to cheat again. He gestured wildly. He leaned into the group's energy.

And all the while, Sharky leaned just a little into him.

Niko sat back, letting his phone rest in his lap now, watching without watching. He didn't smirk. Not yet. He just let his eyes catalog the micro-moments.

The way Sharky's gaze lingered a beat too long when Chunkz spoke.

The way his fingers twitched slightly at his side, like he was grounding himself.

The way he seemed to hold his breath when Chunkz turned toward him.

It was quiet. Careful. Invisible to most.

But not to Niko.

He'd always noticed things. It was why he was so good at what he did, why he could pretend to be a clueless clown on camera while playing 5D chess in the background. Reading people wasn't just a skill, it was instinct.

So he said nothing.

He let the moment play out. Observed. Logged it like a note in a folder.

Because this wasn't his to call out, not yet. This wasn't teasing material, not like the times he and Aj would roast Kenny for saying "library" like it had six syllables.

This was different.

As the day wore on, Niko kept watching from the corners. Sharky stayed close to Chunkz, never clingy, never obvious, but present. Always within reach. And when Chunkz laughed loud enough to throw his head back, Sharky looked at him like the sound itself was sacred.

Still, Niko said nothing.

Eventually, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the grass. Kenny groaned about carrying the cooler. Aj demanded someone Venmo him for the crisps he didn't actually buy. Darkest was already walking ahead like he hadn't heard anyone speak in twenty minutes.

Chunkz stood and stretched, yawning as he finally lifted his arm from Sharky's shoulders. The movement was casual, automatic. He probably didn't think twice about it.

But Sharky did.

He blinked as if waking from a trance, shoulders rising slightly as the warmth disappeared.

"Good day, yeah?" Chunkz said, grinning at Sharky.

"Yeah, it was" Sharky replied, his voice quieter than usual.

The group began walking back to the cars, the low buzz of end-of-day chatter around them.

Niko fell into step beside Sharky. His tone was casual. Eyes straight ahead.

"You alright?" Niko asked, his tone light but probing.

Sharky glanced at him. His expression was calm. Blank, even. But that was how you knew something was going on. Sharky only did the blank face when he was covering something up.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Sharky asked as he looked at Niko, his expression carefully neutral.

"No reason" Niko said as he shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Just a small smile. Nothing more.

And just like that, he let it go.

For now.

Because when it mattered?

He'd ask again.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The hangout had ended hours ago.

The sunlight was long gone, the leftover bags of crisps shoved back into cabinets, the scent of grass still faintly clinging to Sharky's hoodie. But it wouldn't leave him alone.

The day.

Chunkz.

It wasn't anything specific. At least, that's what Sharky told himself. Nothing happened. Chunkz didn't say anything weird, didn't act different. Just sat next to him, cracked jokes, slung his arm around his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Because for Chunkz, it was.

And that's what killed Sharky.

The effortlessness of it.

The way he filled space without asking.

The way his laugh cut straight through Sharky's mind like a light being turned on in a dark room.

Sharky couldn't stop noticing.

Every laugh. Every comment. Every nudge.

The worst part was, Chunkz hadn't changed. He still called Sharky with dumb jokes in the middle of the night. Still sent voice notes with no context. Still tagged him in memes that were weirdly accurate. Still reached for him during casual conversations like it was reflex.

But now, every interaction felt like walking a tightrope.

Every message had weight. Every moment of eye contact felt like a coin flip.

Would it just be friendship again, or something more Sharky didn't know how to name yet?

So when Niko suggested a FIFA tournament, Sharky didn't think much of it at first.

"Bro, I'm undefeated. Let's run it" Niko declared, already grabbing a controller.

Aj groaned. 

"I'm taking first blood. You're not walking away with that smug grin again" Aj said.

That left Sharky and Chunkz lined up next.

Sharky hesitated but he couldn't exactly say no. He grabbed a controller, sat down on the couch beside Chunkz, and immediately regretted it.

Too close.

Their legs touched slightly, just knees but it was enough. The moment he sat, Sharky felt himself straighten, stiffen, his fingers gripping the controller just a little too tightly.

"Easy win for me" Chunkz said, grinning as the match began.

"We'll see" Sharky replied, his voice steady despite the nerves bubbling beneath the surface.

The match began.

He tried to focus. Really tried. But Chunkz's thigh brushed his every few seconds, and his laugh kept ringing out with that stupid joy that made Sharky's chest twist in a way he couldn't explain.

Then, he fumbled possession.

Chunkz pounced. Shot. Goal.

"AYY!" Chunkz shouted, flinging one arm up in triumph and the other, naturally around Sharky's shoulders.

It was all in jest. Just friendly hype. Nothing serious.

But Sharky felt like he'd been slammed through glass.

The weight of Chunkz's arm across his back sent his thoughts spiraling again. Every nerve lit up. His heart thudded like he'd sprinted, even though he hadn't moved at all.

"Come on, Sharky! You've got to do better than that" Chunkz teased, his grin wide and infectious.

Sharky managed a laugh, but it came out tight. Like he was holding his breath.

He couldn't do this.

The weight of Chunkz's arm sent his thoughts spiraling again. It was maddening. 

The way a simple, friendly gesture could unravel him so completely. He wanted to lean into it, to let himself enjoy the closeness but the fear of what it all meant held him back.

"Alright, alright, run it back" Sharky said, trying to sound casual as he shrugged Chunkz's arm off and reset the game.

"Man's scared already" Aj joked from the sidelines.

Laughter erupted.

Sharky forced a grin, letting the comment roll off his back. Or pretending to.

The second match started.

He locked in this time. No distractions. No thigh touches. Just the game.

Score.

A smooth goal early on.

The room erupted in cheers.

"Finally! Thought you forgot how to play" Chunkz said, laughing.

"Just lulling you into a false sense of security" Sharky shot back, his confidence returning slightly.

The banter flowed. For a few minutes, Sharky let himself slip back into comfort. He dribbled past defenders. He made a cheeky backheel pass that made Aj stand up in protest.

And then it happened again.

Chunkz leaned in.

Close.

To comment on a pass Sharky just made.

His voice was right by Sharky's ear. His breath warm. The scent of his cologne, clean, a little citrus, something soft underneath, washed over Sharky like a wave.

His fingers slipped.

Possession lost.

Chunkz snatched it. Ran with it.

Goal.

"Too easy!" Chunkz crowed, jumping up and doing an exaggerated victory dance.

The room roared.

Sharky laughed with them but inside, he was unraveling.

Because this, this ridiculous, nothing moment meant more to him than he could handle.

He stared at the screen as Chunkz danced, the tightness in his chest growing unbearable. Not because he lost, but because he didn't know how much longer he could keep pretending that all this didn't affect him.

That every casual touch didn't send his brain into overdrive.

That every offhand joke didn't feel like a coded message.

That he wasn't falling harder than he ever meant to.

The game ended. The next pair took over. The group's attention shifted. But Sharky?

He sat back, controller still in his lap, smiling with everyone else...

...and drowning.

Notes:

honestly, I have no idea on how to continue this lol. I'll try to come up with something but for now, it's just a series of Sharky's mild angst lol.

Chapter 7: Handwritten Note

Summary:

sharky runs late for a shoot and receives a note that suddenly appeared from nowhere.

It was one of those days.

The kind where the Beta Squad had clearly bitten off more than they could chew. The set buzzed with energy and controlled disorder, barely controlled. Lights were being adjusted. Props clattered to the floor. A camera assistant tripped over a cord and apologized to no one in particular.

The challenge today involved costumes, physical comedy, and what appeared to be a pair of inflatable sumo suits with duct-taped names on the back. Already, Kenny and Darkest were arguing about who looked more ridiculous. 

Sharky was late.

Not dramatically, not the kind of late where the crew had to stall but late enough to earn a comment. As always.

The zipper on his outfit had exploded in the dressing room just as he was heading out. One of the producers had scrambled to fix it with safety pins and tape while Sharky mumbled curses under his breath.

So by the time he stepped onto set, slightly breathless and adjusting his mic pack, everyone was already in position.

"Look who finally decided to show up" Chunkz called out from his spot on the couch, his tone dripping with mock indignation. 

He was lounging like a king, one arm draped along the backrest, legs stretched out, a battered notebook perched on his knee like a royal decree was about to be drafted. His expression was halfway between smug and amused.

Sharky dropped his bag next to the camera stand and glared. It was half-hearted at best.

"Blame the wardrobe, not me. You think I enjoy being late?" Sharky said.

"You? Not enjoy being late? Nah, that doesn't sound right" Chunkz said in a teasing voice that made the group laugh.

Sharky rolled his eyes, but there was the unmistakable twitch of a smile tugging at his lips.

"What are you writing in there anyway?" Sharky asked, nodding toward the notebook as he adjusted his mic pack.

"This?" Chunkz raised the notebook and grinned mischievously. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Chunkz added still with the same grin etched in his face, snapping the notebook shut and tucking it behind him.

"Probably some dead jokes" Sharky said jokingly.

"Me? Never, my material is always top-tier" Chunkz said with a grin.

Before Sharky could respond, the crew called for everyone to get into position. The squad hurried to their marks, and the day kicked off with its usual blend of hilarity and barely contained chaos.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The shoot dragged.

Between the ridiculous props, technical resets, and someone-- Kenny was knocking over a light stand during a take, it was a day. Laughter echoed through the set, but beneath the noise was exhaustion. Still, everyone pushed through.

Sharky, already tired from the rushed morning, found himself zoning out during breaks, not from boredom, but from the kind of tired that settles deep in your bones. His eyes kept drifting.

To Chunkz, specifically.

He was in his element, cracking jokes between takes, lifting the crew's energy, balancing loudness with ease. His laughter carried through the room like it belonged there. Like he was the room.

Sharky watched him with quiet awe. It always amazed him how effortless Chunkz made it all look. The way he turned stressful shoots into something light. Something bearable. Something... fun.

And for Sharky, whose head was often noisy in ways he couldn't explain, that lightness was everything.

 

////_////_////_////

 

They were nearly done.

The set was winding down. Props were being tossed into crates, costumes peeled off, lights dimmed. Crew members buzzed around with clipboards and walkies, trying to keep some semblance of order.

Sharky crouched by his bag, digging through it for his water bottle.

Fingers brushed something small.

Folded paper.

He paused, confused. Pulled it out.

His stomach flipped the second he saw the handwriting. Chunkz's.

Bold. Slightly messy. All angles and swagger.

He unfolded it.

To the laziest member of Beta Squad,

Next time, try being on time. I'll let it slide this once because I'm feeling generous. You're lucky you've got me to carry you through the day.

- Chunkzino

Sharky just... stared.

Then his lips curled into a reluctant, amused smile.

It was dumb. A throwaway joke. Just typical Chunkz behavior.

But something about it, about the fact that Chunkz had taken the time to write it, to fold it, to sneak it into his bag without anyone noticing that it hit different.

It wasn't just the joke.

It was the intention behind it. The awareness. The thoughtfulness.

Chunkz hadn't said a single word about Sharky's morning. Hadn't asked if he was okay or made it awkward. But he'd done this.

A silly note.

Something just for him.

And it made Sharky's chest ache in that way it always did around him these days. Quiet and warm. Like something gentle trying to break through.

He folded the note back up. Slipped it into his hoodie pocket.

Told himself it didn't mean anything.

Then smiled again, because of course it did.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The house had long since quieted.

Doors had shut. Laughter faded down the hallway. The distant sound of someone's muffled voice note played through a wall, then vanished into silence.

And in the soft dark of his bedroom, Sharky sat cross-legged on his bed, hoodie still on, hair slightly messy from the day's chaos, a single lamp casting a warm glow across the room.

He held the note in both hands.

But Sharky had read it over and over.

And every time, it hit different.

It wasn't what the note said. It was what it didn't.

It was the fact that Chunkz had written it at all, had pulled out a notebook, scribbled it in his unmistakable handwriting, folded it up, and slipped it into Sharky's bag without a word.

There was no camera on. No one around. No performance. Just Chunkz doing something silly and quiet and unnecessary and in doing so, making Sharky feel like he'd been seen.

He thought about that grin. That voice. That constant presence that filled up rooms and emptied out anxiety. Chunkz was always "on" always joking, always bringing the mood up but somehow, in this dumb little note, Sharky had caught a glimpse of something else.

Something... gentle. Thoughtful. Quietly his.

He sighed and leaned back against the headboard, letting the paper fall into his lap for a moment. His chest felt heavy, like he was holding something delicate inside himself and wasn't sure what would happen if he let it go.

He didn't know what it meant.

Or if it meant anything.

But it meant something to him.

And that was enough.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The first thing Sharky did after brushing his teeth and pulling on a hoodie was reach for the note.

Not to read it again, though he was tempted but to tuck it into the back of his phone case, between the clear plastic and the device. A little secret. A tiny fold of paper hidden in plain sight. Close enough to keep with him always. Safe.

By the time he reached the studio, the others were already arriving, Aj yawning into his sleeve, Kenny trying to carry three iced coffees without dropping them, Darkest humming something that didn't sound like music.

And then Chunkz walked in, hoodie up, trainers unlaced, smiling like it was his default setting.

Sharky tensed, just a little.

He wasn't sure if it was the note. Or his reaction to it. Or the fact that he had literal proof of his feelings tucked in a piece of plastic against his leg.

Chunkz caught sight of him immediately.

"Yooo, you're actually early?" Chunkz called out, striding over.

"Barely" Sharky muttered, trying to sound normal.

Chunkz just grinned and threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a loose side hug as they walked toward the set.

"Feeling better today? Or do I need to write you another motivational speech?" Chunkz joked, his tone teasing but warm.

"Nah, I'm good with one" Sharky said as he rolled his eyes, shoving Chunkz lightly.

Chunkz laughed, loud and unbothered, already half-turning to make a joke to Aj about his socks.

Completely unaware.

Completely unaware of what that dumb little note had done to Sharky's head. His heart. The way it had lodged itself behind his ribs like a quiet secret.

Sharky said nothing. Just walked beside him.

But later, when no one was looking, he'd find a quiet second to pull his phone out. Not for messages. Not for memes.

Just... to look.

One quick glance at the note behind the case. A little jolt of warmth, a reminder that Chunkz saw him, even if he didn't realize how deeply.

Even if it was all just a joke.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The days that followed blurred into a rhythm Sharky had grown used to, barely contained chaos on set, constant group banter, a revolving door of camera angles and crew members barking mic checks.

But under all that, there was something else now.

A low hum Sharky couldn't tune out.

A rising tide in the quiet space between laughter and proximity.

It wasn't just the work anymore.

It was Chunkz.

Not in the dramatic, sweeping way Sharky used to imagine crushes felt, like movie moments or love songs. No, this was quieter. Trickier. The kind of thing that built up one glance at a time. One accidental nudge. One shared joke.

He found himself looking forward to every moment they shared space.

Not in a creepy way, just... noticing. How they always seemed to gravitate to the same side of the room. How easy it was to lean against each other during takes. How a throwaway comment from Chunkz could reroute the rest of Sharky's day.

It happened on a long shoot day. The kind where hours stretched and time bled out through technical resets and endless camera repositioning.

They'd been filming indoors, cramped inside a makeshift set made to look like a fake living room. The lighting was harsh. Everyone was tired.

The energy dipped between scenes, and Sharky found himself next to Chunkz on the couch, the two of them half-slumped as the crew played back some takes on a monitor.

Chunkz's arm rested casually along the back of the couch.

Their shoulders were just barely touching.

Sharky felt it immediately.

He didn't move, not out of bravery, but paralysis. Like his body knew it shouldn't flinch, because flinching would make it real. So he sat still, hands in his lap, heart doing an irregular beat under his hoodie.

On the monitor, footage rolled. A wide shot of the earlier chaos.

There he was, Sharky tripping over a foam obstacle, flailing like a broken action figure before faceplanting onto the carpet.

The room erupted in laughter again, the crew doubled over.

"Man, how are you still standing there after that fall?" Chunkz said, laughing as he pointed to the screen. 

The footage showed Sharky tripping spectacularly over a prop during one of the earlier takes.

Sharky laughed, but he barely heard the sound.

His attention was split, half on the screen, half on the heat of Chunkz's arm, where it brushed against him like an anchor.

It was nothing.

Chunkz was like this with everyone.

Everyone.

Sharky stared at the playback, barely registering the footage.

His mind echoed with thoughts he couldn't say out loud.

This is too much.

Why does this feel so real?

Why do I want to lean in just a little more?

Chunkz was like this with everyone but the more time they spent together, the harder it became for Sharky to ignore the fluttering in his chest or the way his thoughts lingered on Chunkz long after the day ended.

By the time they finished, the sun had dipped low behind the studio walls. Everyone moved slower, sore legs, dry mouths, muted laughter trailing behind them.

As Sharky grabbed his bag, Chunkz clapped a hand on his back, casual, warm, unthinking.

"Good work today, bro. Try not to eat the floor next time, yeah?" Chunkz said jokingly.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up" Sharky said, shaking his head but smiling despite himself.

 his smile lingered longer than it should have.

They walked out together into the soft dusk, the crew scattering around them. Chunkz launched into a story with one of the assistants, arms gesturing like windmills, expression animated as always.

Sharky watched him.

Not stared. Just... watched.

The way his face lit up mid-sentence. The way people leaned in when he talked. How easy it was for him to make space for everyone around him.

Sharky knew it wasn't special.

Chunkz was like that with everyone.

But... what if it was different with him?

What if it could be?

Sharky slipped into the driver's seat of his own car, closed the door, and let the silence settle around him.

The exhaustion pressed in slowly.

He sat for a moment, unmoving.

Then reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and flipped it over.

There it was, tucked behind the clear plastic case.

The note.

He slid it out, unfolded it carefully. Read it again.

To the laziest member of Beta Squad...

It still made him smile.

Even now.

And he hated that it did. Because it meant something to him. Too much.

He folded it again, tucking it back behind the case like a secret. A talisman.

Maybe it meant nothing.

Or maybe, just maybe, it meant everything Sharky was too afraid to name.

For now, though, he wasn't ready to find out.

He just let it simmer.

In the quiet. In the in-between.

Where everything still felt possible.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The house was quieter than usual.

Darkest had knocked out early. Kenny was in the game room, judging by the distant sounds of FIFA commentary and Kenny yelling "brooo!" like he'd just been robbed. Aj and Niko were probably somewhere stirring the pot for sport.

Chunkz was in his room, hoodie on, feet kicked up, watching a half-muted tiktok compilation that was looping on his screen without much of his attention.

He had a spoon in one hand and an open tub of ice cream in the other. It was melting slightly. He didn't care.

Because his mind kept wandering.

It had been a good day. The shoot went long, but the vibe stayed high. Everyone was on point. The footage was funny. The bloopers were funnier.

And Sharky? 

Sharky had wiped out over a foam prop so badly that even the crew couldn't keep it together. Chunkz had rewatched the fall at least three times.

He smiled to himself just thinking about it.

"Bro looked like he was trying to swim mid-air..."

Chunkz chuckled under his breath.

It had been too good.

But even as he laughed, something felt... off. Or not off. Just... lingering.

He tilted his phone to the side, watching Sharky's name hover in his messages. No unread texts. No reason to click.

Still, his thumb hovered for a second longer than necessary.

Instead, he leaned over to grab his notebook, half-used, bent at the corners, full of dumb jokes, rap bars, sketch ideas.

Tucked inside the pages was a scrap of torn paper, the one he'd used to write that dumb note to Sharky during the last shoot.

He hadn't even planned it. Just saw the notebook in his lap, saw Sharky scrambling in late again, and thought.

Let me violate real quick.

So he wrote the dumbest thing he could think of. Folded it. Slid it into Sharky's bag while he was distracted fixing his mic.

At the time, it had been peak Chunkz, quick, funny, low-effort banter. Just his usual.

But now, lying here?

He couldn't stop picturing the way Sharky had smiled that day.

He'd tried to hide it, but Chunkz saw it. That little crinkle at the corner of his mouth. The way he'd tucked the paper away with this carefulness that felt too soft for just a joke.

And now... for some reason, Chunkz kept thinking about it.

Not the joke.

But how Sharky looked holding it.

And now he was smiling again, real smiling, the kind that crept up slow and made his chest feel weirdly warm. Not funny-warm. Just... warm.

He sat up slightly. Scooped another bite of ice cream. Didn't taste it.

Instead, he found himself whispering aloud.

"What are you doing to me, bro..." Chunkz whispered to no one.

He said it jokingly. Light. But it didn't leave him. Not really.

His eyes drifted to the ceiling. Then to the dark screen of his phone.

What if he kept the note?

The thought came out of nowhere.

It hit harder than it should have.

Would that be weird?

Would it be... mad if I wanted him to?

He exhaled. Ran a hand over his face.

"Long day" Chunkz muttered to no one.

And yet, he didn't open tiktok again.

Instead, he reached for his phone, turned it over, then back again. Like he might text Sharky. Like he might say something.

But he didn't.

Not tonight.

He just sat in the glow of something he couldn't quite name yet.

Notes:

um, my phone broke and well, i have no more device to make this but no worries, i will find ways to continue lol

Chapter 8: More than just a hoodie

Summary:

Sharky’s simple acceptance of Chunkz’s oversized hoodie after a cold shoot day becomes a comforting reminder of Chunkz’s quiet care.

The kitchen was dim, lit only by the soft amber hue spilling from the overhead stove light. The rest of the house lay still, walls quiet, air settled, the distant hum of the fridge filling the silence.

Sharky sat alone, elbows on the table, fingers steepled under his chin.

Across from him, draped over the back of the chair, was the hoodie.

Chunkz's hoodie.

Black, slightly oversized, with a faded logo stitched across the front in letters worn from too many washes. It hung there like it had always belonged in his space, like it didn't carry the weight of everything Sharky had been trying not to feel.

He'd been staring at it for twenty minutes.

Not touching it. Just looking.

And remembering.

////_////_////_////

It had started on an uncharacteristically cold morning, the kind of London chill that made you feel stupid for trusting the forecast.

Sharky had overslept again. No time for breakfast. No time for layering. He'd thrown on the first T-shirt he saw, bolted out the door, and sped toward the shoot location thinking.

it'll warm up by midday.

It didn't.

By the time he pulled into the gravel lot beside the clearing, his arms were locked around his chest, teeth clenched against the cold.

The squad was already there.

Kenny wrestled with a stubborn tripod.

Aj and Niko stood hunched over a storage crate, clearly debating which prop was more ridiculous.

And Chunkz, sometimes early, always composed was leaned back against his car, mid-conversation, hoodie up, hands tucked into the front pouch like the cold didn't touch him.

Sharky stepped out of his car and was hit instantly by a gust of wind that cut through his thin shirt like it was paper.

He tried to play it cool, walking toward the group with his usual slouch, chin tucked slightly as he tried not to visibly shake.

"You alright there, Sharks?" Chunkz called out, a grin already tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good" Sharky said even though his shivering body betrayed him. Chunkz raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

Chunkz's eyebrows lifted in that knowing way. The one that always made Sharky feel seen in the exact ways he didn't want to be.

"You sure? You look like you just walked out of an ice bath" Chunkz said.

Before Sharky could argue, another gust of wind hit him, making him visibly shudder. Chunkz laughed, shaking his head.

"You're mad for not checking the weather. Hold up" Chunkz said, shaking his head in disapproval.

Sharky watched as he turned and headed toward his car. There was no showiness about it, no extra commentary, no loud declarations, just Chunkz rummaging through the backseat for something that would make this better.

A moment later, he emerged holding a black hoodie. Well-worn. Faded. Oversized.

He walked over and held it out with both hands, like he was offering Sharky the key to life itself.

"Here" Chunkz said, walking over and holding out the hoodie.

"What's this?" Sharky said as he blinked dumbfoundedly.

"It's called a hoodie, my guy. Revolutionary invention. Keeps you warm" Chunkz said, shoving it into Sharky's hands.

"I'm fine, bro" Sharky protested even though his freezing hands were already gripping the fabric like it was a lifeline.

"Don't be stubborn, Sharks. Just put it on before you turn into an ice cube and mess up the whole shoot" Chunkz said as he raised an eyebrow, his tone turning mockingly stern.

His tone was firm, but not unkind. There was that edge of playful mockery in it but underneath was concern, clear and quiet.

Sharky gave in with a sigh.

He pulled the hoodie over his head.

It wasn't really huge on him. Just right.

The material was soft and warm, holding the faint scent of Chunkz's cologne, clean, citrusy, with that undertone of something deeper. Familiar.

He adjusted the hood over his ears, fighting back a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold anymore.

"There, now you look decent" Chunkz said, grinning as he gave Sharky a once-over.

"Thanks man" Sharky said.

Chunkz shrugged like it was nothing. "I got you."

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

To Chunkz, it was nothing.

Just another moment of casual kindness. Another way to take care of the people he loved without thinking twice.

And to Sharky?

It felt like everything.

////_////_////_////

Sharky leaned forward now, dragging the hoodie gently off the chair and into his lap. He ran his hands over the worn fabric, thumb tracing the faded logo like it might tell him something he didn't already know.

It smelled like him still.

And that? That hurt a little.

He held it to his chest, not even trying to pretend it was about the cold.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do with all of this, this feeling, this quiet ache every time Chunkz smiled at him or reached out to pull him closer like it was nothing.

Maybe it was nothing.

But the way this hoodie felt in his arms said otherwise.

And that was enough to keep Sharky sitting there, in the soft stillness of the kitchen, with the lights dim and the hoodie close, trying to hold on to something he hadn't yet found the courage to name.

////_////_////_////_

The shoot dragged on.

Hours passed in a flurry of retakes, bloopers, and prop malfunctions. The crew adjusted lighting angles. Niko accidentally broke part of the set. Kenny spilled hot chocolate on a prop microphone and tried to pass it off as "method acting."

Sharky moved through it all quietly, barely noticing the cold anymore.

Because the hoodie? It was everything.

It swallowed him whole in the best possible way, like wearing safety, like being wrapped in something that wasn't just warmth, but comfort. Like belonging.

Every time the wind howled through the trees, he instinctively gripped the sleeves tighter around his hands. The inside still held the faintest scent of Chunkz's cologne, that sharp, clean citrus that made him feel, he didn't know. Awake. Anchored.

He caught himself pulling the hood up even when the breeze settled.

Not because he needed it.

Because he wanted to stay inside that moment a little longer.

By the time the director called it a wrap, the sun had begun to set behind the trees, casting the clearing in soft gold.

The others were already packing up, folding gear, tossing props into crates, laughing about bloopers that would definitely get turned into a montage.

Sharky stood still for a second, his hands tugging the sleeves down past his knuckles, reluctant.

He told himself it was just the cold.

That the hoodie was just practical.

But that wasn't the truth.

By the end of the day, Sharky was reluctant to take it off. He told himself it was because of the cold, but a small part of him liked how it felt and how it smelled faintly like Chunkz.

Back at the lot.

He walked over slowly, pulling the hoodie up over his head as he approached.

Chunkz was standing near the cars, fiddling with his keys, mid-conversation with Aj about who had delivered the best on-camera insult of the day.

"Here, thanks for this" Sharky said, holding it out.

Chunkz turned, glanced at it, then shook his head.

"Keep it, bruv. It suits you better anyway" Chunkz said as he waved a hand dismissively.

"I don't need it. I'll just remember to bring my own next time" Sharky said with a slight frown.

He said it casually, but there was a little frown at the corner of his mouth. Like he didn't want to argue, but he also didn't want to take something he shouldn't keep.

"Just keep it man. It's fine really" Chunkz insisted as he shook himself.

"You sure?" Sharky said as he hesitated, glancing down at the hoodie in his hands.

There was a pause. A beat too long.

Then Chunkz shrugged, smiling.

"Positive, besides, if I ever want it back, I know where to find you" Chunkz said.

The words landed lightly. But they stuck.

Sharky felt it. That small shift in the air. Not serious. Not heavy. But there. Enough to send his heartbeat thudding just a little too hard.

"Fair enough" Sharky said as he gave a short laugh, looking away.

But as he turned and walked toward his car, hoodie in hand, he held it just a little tighter.

////_////_////

The house was still.

Somewhere down the hall, someone's door clicked shut. A soft wind howled outside, dragging tree branches against the windows like the echo of something unsaid.

Sharky sat at his desk, motionless, eyes glazed over from scrolling aimlessly for the last half-hour.

He wasn't reading anything. Not really.

His thoughts had drifted again, like they always did now.

To him.

He reached for the hoodie almost without thinking. It was slung over the back of his chair, right where he'd left it earlier after laundry. Worn now, the color slightly dulled. The cotton softened from use.

He grabbed it, felt the familiar weight in his hands, and a small, nearly unconscious smile crept onto his face.

Before he could stop himself, he tugged it on.

The sleeves swallowed his arms, too long for him still. The fabric pooled around his waist, the hem falling well past his hips.

He pulled the hood over his head.

And just sat there.
Wrapped in it.
Breathing.

The warmth spread through him, not just physical. Something deeper. Something quieter.

Because it wasn't just the hoodie.

It was what it meant.

It was that day.

The moment when Chunkz had handed it to him without a second thought. No ceremony. No teasing. Just saw him shivering and gave it away like it was obvious, of course you're cold, here, take this.

That kind of care had burrowed deep into Sharky's chest.

It had stuck with him in a way he couldn't explain.

Because it wasn't about a hoodie.
It was about feeling wanted.
Feeling like he mattered, even when he didn't ask to.

He leaned back in the chair now, arms folded loosely across his chest, the sleeves bundled at his wrists. His eyes drifted shut.

And the memories flooded back.

Chunkz laughing at him for being underdressed.

That mock-scolding tone

"Don't be stubborn, Sharks"

The way his eyes softened as he held the hoodie out.

Not performative. Not loud.

Just... gentle.

Caring.

Real.

Sharky felt his heart give a quiet, traitorous thump.

He opened his eyes again, stared at his reflection in the dark monitor across from him.

"Stop it, it's just a hoodie" Sharky muttered to himself, shaking his head.

"Stop it" Sharky muttered under his breath.

"It's just a hoodie" Sharky added.

But he didn't believe that.

Not anymore.

Because something about that day had shifted the air between them. Slightly. Softly. Enough for Sharky to start noticing things he'd brushed off before.

The closeness. The weight of certain looks. The gravity that pulled him toward Chunkz when they shared a laugh or a couch or a silence.

The hoodie clung to his frame now, warmer than it had any right to be.

And his chest ached.

Not in a painful way. Not exactly.

Just... full.

As if something inside him was trying to grow in the space where a boundary used to be.

He didn't know what to do with that.

So he didn't do anything at all.

He stayed wrapped in the hoodie, head tilted back, eyes half-closed, listening to the wind outside. Letting it howl.

Letting the feeling settle.

Letting the warmth be what it was. A reminder of everything that had changed... and everything that might still be waiting.

////_////_////

At first, it really was just practical.

The hoodie was warm. Soft. Oversized. Perfect for lounging, for late-night editing, for mornings when the house was freezing because someone kept leaving the kitchen window cracked open.

Sharky had slipped it on once without thinking.

Then again the next day.

Then again the day after that.

Now, weeks later, it had become muscle memory.

He reached for it before his brain even caught up.

Whether it was a chilly morning or a quick run to Tesco, or just a night where he couldn't quite get out of his own head, the hoodie had become his default armor.

And it wasn't just the comfort.

It was the feeling.

The quiet memory stitched into its seams. Chunkz handing it over without hesitation. That grin. That care.

He didn't let himself think about it too much.

Because if he did, he'd start wondering what it meant.

And if he started wondering what it meant... he wouldn't stop.

Sharky was in the living room, half-sunk into the couch, hoodie sleeves stretched over his hands as he sipped from a mug of tea. His laptop hummed on the coffee table, edits from a new video playing on loop.

He hadn't even noticed when Niko walked in.

"Is that Chunkz's hoodie?" Niko asked one day, raising an eyebrow as he walked into the room.

Sharky froze mid-sip.

He blinked. Looked down.

Shit.

He had the hood up. He might as well have been wearing a neon sign.

"Uh... yeah. He let me borrow it" Sharky said after he froze mid-sip of his drink, glancing down at himself.

"For how long? A year?" Niko teased, smirking.

"He said I could keep it" Sharky said maintaining casual appearance.

"Right, right and you've just been living in it ever since, huh? It's cute" Niko said as he grinned, leaning back in his chair.

"You're mad annoying, you know that?" Sharky said as he groaned, standing up and heading for the door.

"I'm just saying!" Niko called after him.

"You and that hoodie are inseparable. It's like your new best friend" Niko added.

"Bro--" Sharky tried to reason.

"I mean, at this point I expect you to name it" Niko said.

Sharky stood up, still holding his mug, hoodie sleeves flopping slightly over his wrists as he made for the door.

"I'm not doing this with you" Sharky called over his shoulder.

"I'm just saying!" Niko shouted after him.

"You better include it in your will, fam. Hoodie's basically part of your personality now" Niko added.

Sharky tried to ignore the heat rising to his face as he walked away.

////_////_////_////

The teasing didn't stop after that.

Aj joined in the next day. Kenny asked if Sharky was starting a hoodie cult. Even Chunkz, bless his heart, had made a joke about charging rent if Sharky was going to wear it that often.

But Sharky didn't stop wearing it.

Because every time he pulled it on, it was like a tether.
A small, quiet connection to the one person he really wanted to feel close to.

He'd never say it out loud, not to the group, and definitely not to Chunkz.

But some nights, when the house was still and he caught a whiff of that faint, fading scent of Chunkz's cologne, he'd let himself wonder.

Does he know?

Did he notice how long I've had it?

Would he care if I never gave it back?

And deep down, Sharky knew this wasn't about just a hoodie anymore.

It was about everything it represented.

Care. Comfort. Connection.

Him.

////_////_////_////

Chunkz sat at the edge of his bed, thumbing through his phone aimlessly. The group chat was active, as always, Kenny had just sent a meme no one understood, Aj was halfway through violating him for losing at FIFA, and Sharky had liked a message but said nothing.

Chunkz frowned slightly, scrolling back up.

Sharky had been quieter today. Still around. Still cracking the occasional one-liner. But more... in his own world. It was nothing new, Sharky had always been the more reserved one but lately, it stood out more.

Maybe it's just stress. Maybe he's just tired.

Chunkz tossed his phone on the bed, leaned back against the headboard, and let out a long breath.

His eyes drifted across the room absently.

Something was missing.

He couldn't place it at first. His space looked the same. A little messy, but nothing out of the ordinary.

And then it hit him.

The hoodie.

That big black one. The one with the old faded logo. His favorite.

He hadn't seen it in his closet for weeks.

He frowned, trying to remember the last time he wore it.

Oh yeah.

That shoot.

That early morning when Sharky showed up freezing in just a T-shirt, teeth chattering like he'd been dragged out of a freezer. Chunkz had tossed the hoodie to him without a second thought.

And then...?

He blinked. Wait.

Did Sharky ever give it back?

He rubbed a hand over his face, laughing to himself.

"Bro actually kidnapped my hoodie" Chunkz muttered in the dark.

It wasn't even about the hoodie, really. Chunkz had others. Warmer ones. Newer ones. But that one had been his go-to, easy to wear, and broken in just right.

He hadn't even realized how much he missed it until just now.

Wonder if he still wears it...

The thought came uninvited. Soft. Stupid.

But once it landed, it wouldn't leave.

////_////_////_////

Chunkz wandered into the kitchen, hungry, mildly bored, and in search of crisps.

Aj was arguing with Niko over something to do with editing transitions. Kenny was nowhere in sight. The house was its usual background buzz of chaotic peace.

Then he saw Sharky.

Leaning casually against the counter, arms folded, talking to Darkest.

Wearing the hoodie.

His hoodie.

Chunkz froze for a split second, just enough to register it.

The logo was barely visible now, the fabric even more stretched. The sleeves were long over Sharky's hands, and the hood was hanging down his back.

But there it was.

Still on him.

Still his.

Something tightened in Chunkz's chest.

Not in a bad way. Just... weirdly warm. Surprising.

He hadn't expected to feel anything.

And yet, seeing it there, on Sharky, months later, worn in like it belonged to him, it sent a jolt of something low and steady through his stomach.

He stepped into the room like nothing had changed.

"Yo" Chunkz called out.

"That hoodie's starting to look like part of your DNA" Chunkz added.

Sharky turned toward him mid-laugh. There was half a second where he looked surprised, like he'd been caught with something he wasn't supposed to have.

Then he played it cool.

"You gave it to me" Sharky said, voice even.

"Don't act like you didn't" Sharky added.

"Didn't think you'd be wearing it into retirement, though" Chunkz said as he grinned.

There was a beat of silence, shared, not awkward, where neither said anything more.

Then Aj chimed in with a dramatic gasp, pointing between them like a detective cracking a case.

"Wait, wait, is this that hoodie?" Aj saidm

"Relax, man" Sharky said, brushing past him, mug in hand.

But Chunkz's eyes lingered.

Just for a moment longer.

Because now he knew.

Sharky still had it. Still wore it. Still lived in it.

And for reasons he didn't quite understand yet... that made him smile.

Notes:

i love them, should I add Aj and Niko or make a separate one for them?

Chapter 9: Struggle Within

Summary:

Sharky spends a restless night reflecting on his changing feelings towards Chunkz.

The room was dark except for the faint glow of his phone screen.

The clock on the wall blinked 2:37 AM.

Sharky hadn't slept.

He sat hunched on his bed, legs pulled in, phone in hand. The walls were still, the only sound the low hum of the radiator and the occasional creak of the house settling. His thumb swiped slowly through the photo gallery, flicking past screenshots, thumbnails, memes...

Then.

He stopped.

A picture.

Him and Chunkz.

From earlier today.

They were both mid-laugh. Sharky's mouth open in what had probably been a terrible joke, Chunkz leaning into him slightly, grinning so wide you could see every tooth.

They looked happy.

Sharky stared at it.

And all he felt was a dull, crushing ache.

He set the phone down. Face up. Screen glowing.

His throat was tight.

What is wrong with me? 

He raked a hand through his hair, fingers tangling as if trying to drag the thought out physically.

Why does this feel... different? 

He leaned back against the headboard, hoodie sleeves pooled around his wrists, chest rising and falling too quickly for how still he was trying to be.

They'd always been close.

He knew that. Everyone knew that.

He and Chunkz had built something together, everything together. From chaos in bedrooms with one camera, to a mansion full of lights, set design, managers, contracts.

The friendship had always been the anchor.

But lately?

It felt like it was pulling him under.

Every look. Every laugh. Every arm draped around his shoulder. It was too much.

The way Chunkz said his name. The way he smiled, not just smiled, looked at him, it felt like something was... slipping.

Like the lines were blurring.

And it was messing with his head.

No. This is just admiration. 

That's all it is. 

You admire him, respect him. 

He's your best friend.

He repeated it like a prayer.

But somewhere in his chest, something twisted. Hard.

He'd said those same words before. For months now. And still, here he was.

Staring at a photo of the two of them, heart racing like he was thirteen again and didn't know what to call this feeling building behind his ribs.

He'd kept trying to push it down.

Ignore the way Chunkz's voice could soften a room. Ignore the way his laugh could make Sharky forget what he was anxious about.

Ignore the way touch lingered.

Ignore the fact that maybe, just maybe he wasn't admiring anymore.

Maybe he was wanting.

No. No, no, no. It's not that. It's not--

He stood suddenly, pushing off the bed.

His heart thundered.

Pacing.

Back and forth, hands twitching at his sides. His skin felt too tight. His breath too loud. The air too still.

What if it's more?

He stopped walking.

Stopped breathing.

What if I... 

The word hit like a weight to the chest.

What if I'm... gay?

The thought hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating. The word "gay" feels like it doesn't belong to him, doesn't fit into his life. 

He'd always thought of himself as straight, at least that's what he'd always believed about himself. The idea of being attracted to Chunkz, of wanting something more than friendship, shakes him to his core.

"That can't be it. That's not who I am" Sharky tells himself.

 I'm not gay. I can't be. 

I don't even know what that would mean for me. 

His chest tightens with panic, his heartbeat quickening as his mind spirals.

He stands up suddenly, pacing around the room, trying to dispel the thoughts, but they cling to him like a second skin. He feels trapped, suffocated by his own feelings, by his own fear.

What if I am? What does that even mean? 

I can't be-- no way. I'm not like that. 

I've never been like that.  I can't be. 

It would ruin everything, wouldn't it? 

His hands clench into fists at his sides. 

His chest tightened again, fists clenching against the wood.

The thought of losing Chunkz, of breaking whatever unspoken rhythm they had, terrified him more than anything else.

This will mess it all up. I'll ruin everything.

He's my best friend. My closest friend. If this gets out, if this becomes real... I'll lose him.

Sharky takes a deep breath, walking to the window and staring out into the night. The world outside is quiet, still, as if it's waiting for him to make some decision but he doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to make sense of what's happening inside of him.

His legs gave a little. He slid to the floor, back to the wall, head in his hands.

Breathing hard.

He couldn't think straight.

You're just confused. That's all. You've been through a lot lately. 

Being in this house, working together every day, it's a lot of pressure. 

You're probably just tired. You just need to sleep. 

His mind is scrambling for excuses, for something to grasp onto, but the tightness in his chest won't let up.

But the excuses rang hollow.

The hoodie around him felt too soft. Too close. The smell still lingered. So did the feeling.

And there it was again, the image.

Chunkz laughing. Looking at him like Sharky was the only person in the room.

His best friend.

His heart broke a little in the silence.

Why do I feel like this? Why can't I be normal?

Why does it have to be him?

He rocked forward, head in his hands, breath shallow.

And then, quietly. A whisper.

What if I do want something more with him? 

What if... 

The thought crashes into him like a wave, knocking the breath out of him. 

What if I'm falling in love with him?

The words are a whisper, but they're loud in his mind. His heart races, panic setting in. His breath catches in his throat as he turns away from the window, pacing again, unable to stay still.

It was like the words knocked the breath out of him.

The silence in the room got louder.

He stood again, too fast, pacing once more. Desperate. Scrambling.

I can't... I can't. I'm not like that 

I don't--this isn't right. This isn't... 

He can't finish the thought. He doesn't know how to finish the thought. He feels sick, confused, like he's losing himself in a storm he can't control.

I'm not gay, he tells himself again, as if saying it over and over will make it true.

I'm not. It's just... it's just admiration. 

I look up to him. That's it. That's all it is. 

But even as he says it, even as the words leave his lips, he knows they're not enough.

The image of Chunkz's smile, his warmth, the way his touch lingered just a little longer than it should have. It's all there, in his mind, refusing to leave. Every moment, every laugh, every glance, it's like Chunkz is slowly unraveling him, piece by piece.

Why can't I just be normal about this? Sharky thinks, his hands gripping his hair, frustration boiling over. 

Why can't I just be like everyone else? 

Why does this have to be so complicated?

Sharky's breath hitches. He knows it's just Chunkz being the caring, supportive friend he always is, but right now, it feels like everything. 

What if he knows? 

What if he's figured it out?

Sharky exhales shakily, rubbing his face. You need to get a grip, he tells himself, but the storm inside him doesn't calm. He can't ignore it, can't pretend it's not there anymore. It's as if something inside of him is waking up, something he's been trying to shut down for far too long.

He leans back against the wall, eyes closing as the wave of emotions crashes over him again. 

It's just admiration, he thinks. 

It has to be.

But deep down, he knows the truth and for the first time in his life, he's terrified of what that truth means.

 

////_////_////

 

Sharky sat slumped on the couch, his body present, his mind... not.

Phone in hand, thumb lazily flicking through an endless scroll of memes, thumbnails, Tiktoks. None of it landed. None of it stuck.

His head felt heavy, not from exhaustion, but from the weight of thoughts that refused to settle. The kind of thoughts that sat behind your eyes and made everything feel foggy, like trying to think through water.

The house buzzed softly in the background. Footsteps overhead. A door opening and closing. Someone, probably Darkest arguing with Siri in the kitchen.

And then.

Kenny flopped down beside him like a meteorite, limbs sprawling, hoodie half off one shoulder, voice pitched dramatically loud.

"Bro, tell me why I just walked into the kitchen and someone left the milk out again" Kenny groaned, stretching his legs out and nearly kicking Sharky in the process. 

Sharky blinked, slow.

"Probably Aj. He's always leaving stuff out" Sharky chuckled faintly, not looking up from his phone.

"Man's living like he's got a personal butler" Kenny said, shaking his head. 

Sharky shifted slightly, still not lifting his gaze.

There was a pause. Just long enough to be noticeable.

Kenny clocked it instantly.

"You good, though? You're quiet today" Kenny added as he nudged Sharky's arm.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just chilling" Sharky said as he glanced at him, offering a small smile.

"Chilling?" Kenny repeated, squinting at him. 

There was a beat.

"Nah, you've got that 'thinking too much' look. You're terrible at hiding it, by the way" Kenny added.

"I'm not thinking too much. Just... tired" Sharky said with a dry laugh, locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket.

"Uh-huh" Kenny said.

Kenny gave him that look, half-amused, half I-see-right-through-you.

But he didn't push.

He just casually leaned sideways and threw an arm around Sharky's shoulders, pulling him in for one of those classic Kenny side-hugs, loose, lopsided, all warmth.

"You need to relax bro" Kenny said, pulling Sharky even closer.

"Says the guy who freaked out over a missing controller last week" Sharky said as he let out a laugh, leaning into the gesture.

"That's different" Kenny said, smirking. 

Sharky chuckled, letting himself lean into it. Just for a moment.

Moments like this always felt easy with Kenny. He never made things weird. Never asked too much. Just knew how to show up and be there, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The effortless banter, like they'd known each other forever. There was no judgment, no pressure, just the simple comfort of someone who genuinely cared.

"Speaking of priorities" Kenny continued, pulling away slightly but still close enough that their shoulders touched.

"You and me in a 2v2 NBA2K later. We're taking on Niko and Aj" Kenny said.

"Do I have a choice?" Sharky asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope" Kenny said with a grin. 

"I need your skills. You're my secret weapon, bro. We're unstoppable together" Kenny added.

"Alright, fine but only if you promise not to scream at me when I miss a shot" Sharky said as he laughed.

"Deal but you better not miss" Kenny said.

Sharky swatted at him half-heartedly, unable to stop smiling. 

"You're annoying, you know that?" Sharky said as he swatted at him half-heartedly, unable to stop smiling.

"Love you too, bro" Kenny shot back with a wink as he walked away, leaving Sharky alone again.

Sharky sat there for a few seconds longer, the couch sinking slightly where Kenny had just been. His shoulder still felt faintly warm from the hug, and that stupid 2K match promise was still echoing in his head.

He smiled, soft. Small. Real.

And for a moment... everything else quieted.

No spiral. No panic.

Just stillness.

He exhaled, leaning back again.

It wasn't enough to silence the noise completely.

But it was enough for now.

And maybe, Sharky thought, that's all I need.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Chunkz had stopped mid-step.

The hallway was dim, light from the kitchen spilling into the corridor in soft gold strips. The murmur of voices had caught his attention, and now, his body refused to move.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, one shoulder pressing into the plaster. Not eavesdropping. Not exactly. Just... listening.

Kenny's laughter. Sharky's soft reply. Another laugh.

The kind that curled at the edges of your mouth.

From where Chunkz stood, he could see the doorway-- just enough to catch a glimpse of the two of them.

Kenny's arm slung casually around Sharky's shoulders.

Sharky, smiling. Really smiling.

Leaning in. Relaxed. Present.

Chunkz's throat felt tight.

It should've made him happy.

Seeing Sharky like that. Laughing like he hadn't in weeks. Leaning into someone again. Letting go.

But it didn't.

Instead, it settled like a stone in his chest. Heavy. Dull. Quietly painful.

He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just... watched.

And then the ache started.

But it didn't.

Instead, it gnawed at him, a dull ache settling in his chest as he watched the two of them.

Why does this bother me? 

They're just friends. We're all friends 

So why... why does it feel like this?

He looked away.

Stared at the floor. The light from the kitchen sliced across the hardwood. Still, warm, domestic.

It made him feel cold.

His eyes flicked shut, trying to shut it out. Shut them out.

Sharky's laugh still echoed in his ears.

Soft. Real. The kind of laugh he hadn't heard directed at himself in a long time.

He opened his eyes.

It's not jealousy 

he told himself firmly, but the words felt hollow. But the words felt thin. Paper-thin. Ready to tear.

It was more of an envy rather than a jealous feeling

It was envy.

That easy affection. That warmth. The way Sharky let Kenny in. Without hesitation. Without that stiffness that had started to creep into his moments with Chunkz.

Sharky had been pulling away lately.

Still bantering. Still showing up. But guarded.

Like something invisible stood between them.

Chunkz had noticed. Of course he had. He knew Sharky too well not to.

But he hadn't said anything.

Because if he asked? He might not like the answer.

It's just... Sharky's been distant and I'm worried about him. 

That's all. It has to be.

Maybe he's just stressed. Or tired. Maybe he needs space.

That's fine. That's normal. Right?

He pushed off the wall and forced his feet to move.

One step. Then another.

The ache didn't go.

Chunkz dropped onto the couch, letting gravity take over.

The TV was on. Something mindless playing. Background noise to a mind that was anything but quiet.

He leaned back. Hands clasped. Staring past the screen.

His chest felt tight again.

That image, the casual way Kenny had touched him. The ease of Sharky's laughter.

The contrast.

With him, Sharky was always... almost there.

Almost open. Almost relaxed.

But not quite.

Why not with me?

Did I do something?

Am I too much? 

Too loud? 

Too... present?

His mind spiraled, questions piling.

He tried to laugh it off. Tried to call himself ridiculous.

But it didn't land.

He could still feel it, that strange sense of not being the one he turned to.

And it hurt.

More than it should.

This isn't about you

It's not a big deal. Just let it go.

But he couldn't.

The ache stayed, low and quiet, curling around his ribs like smoke.

No answers.

Just questions.

And the sound of Sharky's laugh in someone else's arms.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The house had quieted. The warmth of earlier had long since cooled into something still and brittle.

Sharky lay on his bed, one arm slung across his forehead, the other clutching his phone but not scrolling. Just holding it. Like it might anchor him to something.

He replayed the conversation with Kenny in his head.

The hug. The laughter.

And then... the hallway.

Because he'd seen him.

Chunkz.

Standing just outside the kitchen, half-shadowed by the wall, still and watching.

He hadn't meant to glance that way. It had been a passing glance, really, just a flick of his eyes toward the corridor and there Chunkz was.

Not moving.

Just watching.

Their eyes met. Only for a moment.

But in that moment, something inside Sharky froze.

His stomach had knotted instantly.

Because the look on Chunkz's face wasn't angry, or annoyed.

It was worse.

It was... unreadable.

Not a smile. Not surprise. Just stillness.

And Sharky, in that breath of silence, felt exposed.

Like he'd been caught.

Like somehow, Chunkz knew.

Knew what he was feeling. Knew what he'd been pushing down. Knew what it meant when Sharky smiled at him too long. Laughed too softly. Held onto that hoodie like it was a lifeline.

Sharky had dropped his eyes immediately. Played it off. Pretended he hadn't seen him. Carried on the conversation with Kenny as if nothing had changed, even though everything had.

Because after that moment, he couldn't breathe properly.

He saw me.

He knows.

He must know.

Now, in the dim light of his room, the memory kept circling back.

That flicker of something in Chunkz's eyes.

Sharky couldn't name it. Couldn't even describe it. But it felt heavy.

Like disapproval. Or distance.

Or maybe that was just his own guilt, playing tricks.

He rolled over onto his side, pulling his knees up, hoodie sleeves bunched around his fists.

You've made things weird.

You've ruined this.

The words clawed at his chest.

Maybe that was why Chunkz had been quieter around him lately. Maybe he'd noticed how Sharky kept pulling away, kept retreating just when it should've been easy.

Maybe he knew. And didn't want to say it.

Because what do you say when your best friend starts looking at you differently?

When your laugh lingers too long?

When your glances start carrying weight?

You don't.

You say nothing.

Just like Sharky had.

You could've said something. You could've smiled. A nod. Anything.

But he hadn't.

He'd looked away.

And now?

Now there was just silence.

Worse than before.

Because now, Chunkz thought he didn't care.

Didn't want to be around him.

Didn't notice.

And Sharky... couldn't fix it without shattering himself open.

So he stayed quiet.

Wrapped himself tighter in the hoodie.

Closed his eyes against the weight.

And let the silence grow.

Chapter 10: Something Like Jealousy

Summary:

Sharky finds himself unusually restless when Chunkz steps away for a phone call, but he brushes it off as nothing.

The living room was alive: half the squad sprawled across the couches, the coffee table littered with empty bowls, half-eaten snacks, and soda cans. A muted movie preview played on the TV, though nobody was watching it. The real show was in the room itself, chatter, laughter, easy routines.

Sharky sat stiffly against the backrest, arm draped over the couch. His phone lay in his hand, screen dimmed, feed long ago scrolled through.

He heard Chunkz's phone vibrate. Out of habit, his head turned but paused halfway.

Chunkz noticed the caller ID and grinned. 

"It's Lauren" Chunkz announced, standing.

Sharky's stomach dropped as he watched Chunkz step into the kitchen and close the door. The room felt suddenly quiet, like someone had pulled the air filter out of the house.

"Tell her we said hi" Niko called out, ever the sweetest person.

"Yeah, yeah" Chunkz replied with a wave as he stepped into the kitchen. 

The door swung shut behind him, muffling the sound of his voice as he answered the call. Sharky tried not to notice how the room suddenly felt emptier. He shifted in his seat, his leg bouncing restlessly as he stared at his phone screen, the notifications blurring together.

"You good, Sharky?" Kenny asked, glancing at him.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine" Sharky replied, too quickly.

But Niko wasn't buying it.

of course he wasn't. 

He smirked, leaning forward with that trademark mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Relax, Sharky. He's not eloping with her" Niko said as if it was the most casual joke ever.

"What are you on about?" Sharky said with a chuckle, trying to be normal as possible.

Niko only smiled and didn't bother to say anything more. Instead, the other one continued to munch on his snack while sitting next to Aj.

"I'm just bored, man. Can we put something on the TV or something?" Sharky said, trying to move past the awkward situation that Niko put him into while Sharky sinking furtherly into his seat.

But even as the conversation shifted, Sharky's attention kept drifting toward the kitchen doorway. His leg bounced faster, his fingers drumming against his thigh. He told himself it wasn't a big deal. Chunkz could talk to whoever he wanted.

It's just a phone call

Why do I even care?

But the image of Chunkz smiling at his phone, stepping away so effortlessly, replayed in his mind like a loop. It wasn't jealousy, no. Sharky refused to call it that. It was... something else.

A weird tightness in his chest. A nagging feeling that wouldn't go away.

Chunkz and Lauren had met during a collaboration months ago, a shared project that had brought their paths together. From the moment they started talking, there was an undeniable chemistry between them. 

Chunkz's quick wit matched Lauren's humor perfectly and the two of them had fallen into an easy rhythm that made it seem like they'd known each other forever.

Back then, Chunkz had been taken aback by how much he liked her. It wasn't just that she was gorgeous, though she definitely was. It was the way she carried herself, confident but never overbearing. 

The way she laughed at his jokes like she genuinely found them funny, not just polite chuckles to keep the conversation going.

And for a while, Chunkz had thought there might be something there. He'd started testing the waters, dropping playful hints, finding excuses to message her just to keep the conversation alive.

 He'd even worked up the nerve to ask her out once and to that she casually, of course, so it didn't seem like too big of a deal.

Lauren had said yes and they'd had a great time. Chunkz couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so comfortable around someone, so effortlessly himself but as the months went on, it became clear that Lauren saw him as nothing more than a good friend.

It wasn't like she'd outright rejected him, she didn't need to. The signs were subtle but unmistakable. The way she talked about her dating life like it didn't even occur to her that Chunkz might be interested. The way she leaned on him for support, confiding in him about everything, like he was her safe place, her brother.

Chunkz had been disappointed, sure, but he wasn't bitter. Lauren was too important to him for that and if being her friend was all he could be then he'd gladly take it.

Over time, they'd settled into a close friendship. They still joked and laughed like they always had, still shared their dumbest and deepest thoughts late at night and truthfully, Chunkz was fine with it. He'd moved past his feelings, or at least, he thought he had.

But the squad knew or at least, Niko and Aj had figured it out pretty quickly. They'd teased him about it relentlessly back then, though they eventually let it go once it was clear nothing was happening.

When Chunkz finally came back into the living room, Sharky's eyes instinctively flicked to him. Chunkz was still smiling, looking relaxed as he plopped back into his spot on the couch.

But Sharky felt the humor slip away from him. He offered an awkward nod, keeping his eyes down.

"What did Lauren want?" Kenny asked, tossing a piece of popcorn at him.

"Just catching up. She's good though" Chunkz said easily, brushing the popcorn off his lap.

The guys moved on, cracking jokes and debating what to watch but Sharky stayed unusually quiet. He leaned back against the couch, phone in hand, pretending to scroll.

In reality, he wasn't focused on anything. He was too busy trying to ignore the way his mood had soured, the strange tension in his chest that wouldn't let up.

"Sharky, what do you think?" Niko's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" Sharky said as he snapped out of his thoughts.

"I asked if we should watch that new movie everyone's talking about" Niko said patiently.

"Uh, yeah. Sure" Sharky mumbled, forcing a smile.

But the smile didn't quite reach his eyes and Chunkz seemed to notice. He opened his mouth to say something but Aj interrupted, throwing out a joke that sent everyone laughing.

Chunkz hesitated for a moment before joining in, the concern on his face fading as the moment passed.

Sharky, however, stayed quiet, his smile fading as soon as the attention shifted away from him. He leaned his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling as the sound of his friends' laughter filled the room.

Sharky realized he hadn't breathed right in seconds. The weight in his chest squeezed tighter.

He repeated his mantra in his head, slower than before

It's nothing

I'm just overthinking

It's nothing

But deep down, he knew it wasn't nothing. Not the way his chest ached every time he thought about Chunkz stepping out of the room, smiling at his phone. Not the way his heart twisted when Chunkz's focus wasn't on him.

Later, the movie started as the room dimmed. Sharky leaned his head against the back of the couch, arms crossed over his chest like an anchor. He was surrounded by people, yet it felt like somehow he was in another place, somewhere quieter, where his chest throbbed and he could barely breathe.

Chunkz caught his gaze. He sat upright, halfway between concern and apology, but then glanced away, perhaps unsure, perhaps afraid. A moment passed. They shared a breath. Then he smiled at someone else and Sharky's chest clenched harder.

He closed his eyes and let the screen wash over him, though the movie plot didn't register.

Because what was running through his mind was bigger than any preview.

Why does it have to feel like this?

His fingers curled around the phone in his pocket. His heartbeat drowned out the replay of laughter. Deep inside, he felt something else stirring. Something raw.

He exhaled slowly.

It's admiration.

That's all.

Nothing more

But the ache in his chest said otherwise.

Time passed in quiet waves. The laughter, the chatter, shifted around him, but for Sharky, the world blurred. He stared at the crack where the wall met the floor, breathing shallow, wondering what next.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Chunkz stepped back into the living room, the echo of his laughter from his call fading into the quiet hum of the squad's evening banter. The moment he crossed the threshold, he noticed Sharky's eyes flicking toward him, just the briefest shift before darting away. The gesture was tiny, almost involuntary but it was enough to send a flicker of curiosity through him.

He slid onto the couch beside Kenny, heart still humming with the warmth of his conversation with Lauren. His grin was easy, his tone light as he rejoined the ongoing story about Aj's latest prank. There was no hint of awkwardness, no hesitation, just his usual electric energy.

But despite his best efforts to plug back in, Chunkz caught himself watching Sharky, whose presence seemed to shrink into the shadows tonight.

Sharky sat a little apart, shoulders hunched ever so slightly, his posture drained of its usual ease. The laughter he offered was quiet, polite, reflexive, lacking the sharp warmth it typically carried. And yet, despite the chatter, he remained distant, a flicker of weightiness lurking behind his eyes.

Throughout the evening, Chunkz found himself stealing glances down the couch. There was that moment again, that look. Sharky's gaze, flickering toward the kitchen, catching sight of Chunkz returning, then twisting into something hard to place.

Concern? Pain? Guilt? He couldn't tell. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, shuttered behind Sharky's blink.

Chunkz tucked the observation away, unwilling to hit pause on the group mood. He kept jokes coming, leaned into the conversation, laughed loudly enough for them all. But his mind quietly sorted through possibilities.

Maybe Sharky had a rough day. Maybe he was missing home, family, something far from the mansion's chaos. Or, Chunkz wondered with a brief, unintended jab of worry, maybe something to do with him?

He thought about his late-night call with Lauren. Their relationship had gone from hopeful to comfortable over time, platonic, supportive, and free of real complication. Still, he recognized how stories could be misconstrued. Maybe Sharky thought something was blossoming on his end. Maybe that's what had changed in Sharky's demeanor tonight.

With a gentle laugh, he dropped a handful of popcorn into Niko's bowl and rejoined a story about their cook-off last week. The moment passed, but the unease lingered.

As the squad wound down, phones and snacks tucked away, laughter tapering into content silence, Chunkz felt the pull of that half-smile Sharky had offered earlier in the night. He sat back, eyes drifting to the spot Sharky had occupied.

Sharky gave a small nod to Aj, then stepped away, disappearing quietly into the hallway. And Chunkz realized that something had changed or maybe always been there, waiting to surface.

But he kept quiet. Because whatever was going on, it felt like it needed patience, not confrontation.

They're fine, he told himself as he settled into the silence. We always figure it out.

Still, as Chunkz closed his eyes and let the room settle, he couldn't shake the sense that a soft, unspoken shift was happening, and that it involved him, in ways he didn't yet understand.

Chapter 11: Restless Realizations

Summary:

Sharky realizes he might be in love with Chunkz.

The house had fallen into a calm stillness. The kind that settles after a long, chaotic day with the squad, where the energy fades, and everyone retreats to their corners of the house.

Sharky had tried to sleep but his mind wouldn't cooperate. Every attempt to rest was met with a restless churn of thoughts that felt too loud in the silence.

So, he found himself padding down to the kitchen, barefoot, the soft glow of the fridge light illuminating the space as he reached for a bottle of water.

It was supposed to be a quick stop, a distraction to quiet his thoughts but as he closed the fridge door, he froze.

Chunkz was sitting at the kitchen counter, his back partially turned, phone pressed to his ear. Sharky hadn't even noticed him there, the soft murmur of his voice blending into the background hum of the house.

The first words Sharky caught were casual enough. Chunkz was laughing softly, his tone easy and relaxed.

"Nah, Lauren, you were impossible back then" Chunkz said with a laugh.

Sharky felt a jolt of something he couldn't name, a mix of curiosity and something sharper, more bitter. 

Lauren again? 

Why is it always her?

"Nah, I'm glad we're friends. I couldn't ask for a better one" Chunkz said, his laugh fading into something softer, almost wistful.

Sharky's grip on the bottle tightened, the plastic crinkling under his fingers. He couldn't stop the irrational surge of jealousy that flared in his chest.

They're just friends

Sharky told himself, but the words rang hollow. 

The way Chunkz spoke about Lauren carried a weight, a familiarity Sharky couldn't ignore. It was the kind of warmth that came from a deep connection, one Sharky feared he might never have with Chunkz.

Lauren's voice filtered faintly through the phone, too muffled for Sharky to make out her words, but whatever she said made Chunkz laugh again, a deep, genuine sound that filled the quiet kitchen.

Why does it bother me so much? 

his stomach twisting uncomfortably. He didn't have an answer, and that only made the feeling worse.

Before he could decide whether to slip away unnoticed or make his presence known, Chunkz turned slightly, catching sight of him. Their eyes met for a brief, charged moment.

Chunkz raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised to see him but quickly offering a small smile, an unspoken acknowledgment.

Sharky hesitated, nodding back before taking a step toward the counter but then Chunkz spoke into the phone again, his attention returning fully to Lauren.

Sharky stopped in his tracks. He couldn't do it. He couldn't sit there and listen to more of this, couldn't pretend it didn't affect him.

He turned on his heel and left, the water bottle still unopened in his hand.

Back in his room, Sharky sat on the edge of his bed, the unopened bottle resting on the nightstand beside him. His head was in his hands, elbows propped on his knees as he tried to make sense of the mess of emotions swirling inside him.

Why do I care so much? 

The question burned in his mind, relentless and unanswered. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, that he was just tired, overthinking things but deep down, he knew it wasn't true.

It wasn't just Lauren. It was the way Chunkz spoke to her, the ease in his voice, the laughter that came so naturally. It was the way Sharky had never heard him talk like that to anyone else, maybe not even to him.

And then there was the way Chunkz had smiled at him in the kitchen, a quick, apologetic gesture that only made Sharky feel worse.

It was like Chunkz knew, he knew that Sharky had overheard, knew that it hurt, and still chose to go back to his conversation anyway.

Sharky exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair.

"This is stupid. I don't care who he talks to. I don't" Sharky muttered aloud, though he, himself doesn't even seem to believe the words. 

He knew it wasn't true.

He hated the way his chest tightened whenever Lauren's name came up. He hated the way his heart sank every time Chunkz looked at her with that special kind of fondness and most of all, he hated the realization creeping up on him, the one he'd been trying to bury for weeks now.

Because it wasn't just jealousy. It wasn't just frustration. It was something deeper, something terrifying.

Sharky's thoughts spiraled, memories flashing through his mind in rapid succession, Chunkz laughing at one of his jokes, their late night conversations that felt like they could go on forever, the way Chunkz's hand lingered on his shoulder just a little too long sometimes.

And then, like a knife to the gut, the thought came through him 

What if I'm in love with him?

"No" Sharky said quickly, his voice sharp in the quiet room 

"No, it's not that. It's not..." Sharky said.

He couldn't even finish the sentence.

His heart was pounding now, his chest tight with a mix of fear and denial. 

I 'm not... It's not like that 

I just... admire him. That's all 

He's my best mate. Of course I care about him 

That doesn't mean..

But the words felt hollow, a weak attempt to convince himself of something he was no longer sure he believed.

Sharky leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was a mess, emotions crashing over him like waves. He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to untangle the feelings that had been building inside him for weeks, maybe even months.

All he knew was that he couldn't tell Chunkz, not now, not ever.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Chunkz stood in the hallway, holding the cool glass of water, acutely aware that every creak of the floorboards seemed amplified. The house was silent, mandem in the sessions long faded away, replaced by the stillness of a night steeped in half-forgotten jokes and exhausted bodies.

He shifted his weight, boot tapping lightly on the hardwood, breath shallow.

In his right hand, the glass felt heavier than it had any right to be.

He replayed the scene from moments earlier, the brief glimpse of that hurting look on Sharky's face. The way he'd stepped into the kitchen, only to disappear again, silent and tense.

Did I say something wrong?

Was it... the way I talked to Lauren?

He brought the glass to his lips, but didn't drink his soda, afraid the cold water might build courage in his chest he wasn't sure he deserved.

The hallway light overhead glowed soft and dim, casting his shadow long and uncertain. He pulled a slow breath, hand curling slightly on the condensation-dropped glass.

In his mind, the door at the end of the hall, that one marked Sharky that had loomed large.

He swallowed, glancing between the door and his feet. He thought about knocking:

To ask

You okay?

What's up?

To say.

I saw your face, come on, tell me

But every version of the question ended with the same deadly qualifier.

But do I really want to know the answer?

He pressed his back to the wall, letting cooler air creep through the gap between hall and room. It was easy to feel the distance, not just the feet separating them, but the uncertainty that had grown in the space between friendship and something else.

The worst part wasn't what Sharky might say next, it was what wouldn't be said.

He closed his eyes, head lolling back, if only to get a better look at the ceiling-starred glow.

This is ridiculous, he thought. We're best mates.

And yet.

There it was, again.

The ache. The hope. The fear.

Fear of his own feelings slipping. Fear of Sharky slipping away. Even fear of what he might do if Sharky admitted the thing Chunkz had been too afraid to say aloud.

He squeezed his legs together, knuckles white where they grasped the glass.

He took a slow step forward. Another.

And stopped.

He couldn't knock.

Because knocking meant opening something, and maybe breaking something, too.

He waited in silence, footsteps soft behind him, and counted seconds in his mind:

1...
2...
3...

Behind the door, he could feel it. Sharky, curled up, tension drawn tight, breathing sharp with every 'what-if' tearing through his heart.

He took another step, hand already raised.

And he lowered it.

Weakness felt sharp in his chest. His jaw tightened as all the reasons not to speak welled in thought.

It's late

He needs sleep

Let him be

Mostly, though, it was fear.

Fear that his own words might ruin what they had built.

So he tugged his hood over his head and stepped away quietly.

The glass felt warmer now.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Chunkz slipped through the doorway across the hall, closing it softly behind him. He leaned against the door, glass still in hand, watching a shadow slide past.

He closed his eyes again.

In that blackout of memory, he could hear his own heartbeat.

And feel an ache that stretched between two rooms.

Tomorrow

Chunkz told himself.

Tomorrow I'll say something

But tonight? Tonight he wasn't ready.

Not yet.

He placed the glass gently on his bedside table and flicked the light out, leaving only the muted glow of his phone charging against the wall.

As he turned out the second light, the room went dark.

And Chunkz lay awake, listening to his own breath, just a hallway away from the man he cared about most.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Chunkz sank slowly into the corner of the couch, his body folding into it like it might swallow him whole. The upholstery was cold against his skin, still shaped from where he'd been sitting before.

The hallway behind him might as well have been a mile long, its silence still gripped his lungs like a hand. His pulse hadn't slowed.

The lights from the muted TV flickered across the room, catching on the edges of furniture, throwing ghostly shapes on the walls.

He stared at the screen without taking in a single image. A cartoon, maybe. An ad. Colors moved, but his eyes didn't follow. His hand dipped into his pocket almost on instinct, fingers curling tightly around his phone as if it might anchor him to the present.

The glow when he unlocked it was soft, golden, too warm for how cold the room felt. It illuminated the quiet in a new way, like candlelight on an abandoned stage.

He stared at the icons, unmoving.

Then the messages app.

New Message To: Sharky

The blank screen pulsed gently, waiting.

His thumb hovered. His breathing caught. Just a name on the top of the screen, but it burned like it meant everything.

He typed, slowly.

"Hey... saw you come in earlier. You okay?"

He stopped.

Read it. Again.

Again.

No frills. No emotion spelled out. Just a reach, bare fingers extended across a chasm, hoping someone else was reaching too. It was nothing, it was everything.

It was all he could say after standing frozen in the hallway, after watching Sharky walk past without a word, head down, eyes unreadable.

He hovered over "Send"

Then.

The doubt slid in, cold and slick.

What if he doesn't want this?

What if he saw me and chose not to speak?

What if this message makes it worse, makes the silence heavier?

He imagined the notification lighting up Sharky's phone. He imagined Sharky's face hardening when he saw the name. Or worse, softening, and feeling guilty. Or worst, feeling nothing at all.

His thumb trembled.

It would take one tap.

Just one.

But that single action felt enormous, like stepping off a ledge with no ground in sight. Not a confession, no. Not even close. But it carried a weight. A signal. A vulnerability that, once sent, couldn't be taken back.

He exhaled sharply. Backed out of the message. The draft saved automatically, quiet, obedient.

The home screen returned.

A dozen unread notifications blinked up at him. Group chats. Apps. Missed calls. None of them mattered.

He locked the phone, the click echoing louder than expected.

But the message was still there, resting behind a layer of glass and silence, a fragile little hope sealed away in pixels and hesitation, glowing quietly like something half-alive.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Chunkz leaned further back into the couch, his spine pressing into the frame as if distance from the world could somehow quiet the noise inside his chest.

His lungs worked shallowly, the air feeling too thick, like it had to be swallowed instead of breathed. His chest ached, not sharply, not dramatically, just tight, as though wrapped in something invisible and unyielding.

His eyes burned. Not tears. Not quite. Just the slow build-up of unshed weight. Like the pressure of a storm behind his eyes, without the relief of rain.

He tilted forward, pressing his forehead against the cold leather cushion. It was smooth, cool, grounding. He exhaled through his nose, long, sharp, as if it could drive something out of him. But nothing left. The tightness stayed.

That message...

It had felt like stepping onto thin ice, like testing the edge of something brittle and unknown. Not dramatic, not cinematic, just real. Real in the worst way.

It wasn't pride that had stopped him. Not ego. Not stubbornness. He could admit that, at least. Pride would've been easier, cleaner.

But this? This was murkier. He told himself maybe it was timing. Maybe Sharky needed space. Maybe it would only make things worse. Maybe. Always maybe.

But deep down, he knew.

It was fear.

Fear of overstepping.

Fear of being met with silence.

Fear that the gap between them wasn't just space, it was choice. A decision Sharky had already made.

Fear that if he reached out, and Sharky didn't reach back, there'd be no coming back from that kind of quiet.

His fingers curled into the couch. His jaw clenched.

"I'll say it tomorrow."

He whispered it into the stillness of the room like a secret vow. But it sounded fragile. Already cracked. The night didn't care. It pressed in closer, heavier now. Tomorrow felt as far away as the hallway had, seconds ago. And just as unreachable.

He stayed like that, forehead against leather, phone silent in his pocket, the unsent message still glowing somewhere in the dark behind his closed eyes.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Eventually, the couch claimed him. So did the night.

Exhaustion crept in quietly, like a tide reaching past the breakwater, soaking through. He slipped under without knowing, body curled awkwardly in the cushions, one arm tucked beneath him, the other slack, fingers still brushing the edge of his phone.

It slid from his grasp in sleep, landing gently on the carpet.

The world behind his eyelids twisted.

Dark water. Choppy waves under a blackened sky. No land in sight, only the howl of wind and the jagged line of waves gnashing like teeth. In the distance, fins cut the surface, sharp, deliberate, circling.
Sharky.

Chunkz swam toward him, arms heavy, legs thrashing. His voice was raw in his throat. He couldn't remember the words, only the reaching, the desperation, the ache to get closer before the storm pulled them apart.

Then Sharky vanished beneath the waves.

Then Chunkz did too.

And silence rushed in, colder than the sea.

He jerked awake.

A pale light brushed across the ceiling, dawn's slow, indifferent arrival. The apartment was still, save for the soft vibration in his hand. He blinked, dazed, heart still pounding from the vanishing dream. His phone buzzed again. Low. Polite.

Not Sharky.

A delivery app. Some half-forgotten notification. Meaningless.

He stared at the screen a second longer, letting the light sting his tired eyes.

Then he sat up slowly, blanket tangled around his legs, the air chilled against the sweat at his collar.

Morning had come.

The message?

Still there. Still unsent.

He opened the messages app on impulse, thumb hovering again like it had hours before. But he didn't move.

There was something about the silence now. It wasn't blank, it was full. Dense. Heavy with what hadn't been said, what still waited between them. Not emptiness. Not absence.

Just weight.

And it stayed.

Chapter 12: Busy Enough to Forget

The house was chaos, a perfectly orchestrated, near-religious kind of madness and Sharky was the conductor, the hype man, the ringleader in a one-ring circus where laughter was armor and distraction was divine.

The living room was a war zone of half-empty mugs and a cereal box lying on its side like it had surrendered hours ago. The air was thick with the buttery scent of burnt toast and the distant echo of a drill sound that had been stuck in someone's head since morning.

Kenny roared with laughter, practically folded over the arm of the sofa, his knees kicking uselessly in the air. His shirt was dotted with Rice Krispies and milk stains, and he held a spoon like it was a mic. 

"I'm telling you, that's not how physics works!" Kenny said, half-choking on his words.

Across from him, Aj sat slumped on the floor with his back against the wall, eyes locked on his phone. His thumbs were moving fast, reviewing takes of their botched attempt at a tiktok dance. 

"Bruv... we look like a failed boy band" Aj muttered.

"Correction" Sharky called out, spinning into the frame with a dramatic point. 

"You look like a failed boy band. I look like choreography itself" Sharky said as he struck a ridiculous pose mid-stride, balancing an invisible hat on his head and twirling like he had an audience beyond the four cracked walls.

Aj groaned, letting his head thump back against the wall. 

"Swear down, you did three moves and forgot the rest. Kenny threw cereal in my eye mid-spin" Aj said.

"I was creating tension" Kenny said between gulps of laughter, flinging a soggy cornflake in Aj's general direction.

"Drama, mate" Kenny added.

Sharky didn't stop moving. He weaved between them like he was running warm-ups for a sold-out show. His grin was wide, too wide. He grabbed the phone from Aj's hands mid-protest and hit record again without asking. 

"Right, one more. Reset. If we don't get it on this one, I'm staging a full reboot of your personalities" Sharky said.

Aj rolled his eyes but got up, muttering curses about unpaid labor and artistic exploitation. Kenny clambered over the couch, stepping on two cushions and possibly a forgotten slice of toast.

Sharky clapped to cue the take, twice, sharp and loud. The sound echoed longer than it should have, like it was trying to get through to something beneath the surface.

He paced in a loop, biting the inside of his cheek.

Movement. Momentum. Keep it all going. Faster. Louder. Don't stop. Don't think.

The moment he slowed down, the moment he allowed the stillness in, it would come pouring in like floodwater, too fast, too much. The quiet would start asking questions.

And he already knew what it would ask.

He knew what it would show.

Chunkz, standing still in that hallway, eyes soft and full of something Sharky hadn't been ready to see. That one-second pause between them where the noise had dropped out of the world and he hadn't said a word.

He'd kept walking.

He hadn't looked back.

"Oi, come on, Aj!" Sharky called, snapping out of it with a jolt of volume. 

"Rematch! The first take was trash!" Sharky said.

Aj groaned, dragging his hands down his face, but the corner of his mouth twitched. 

"One more and I'm charging you, swear down" Aj said.

"Charge me in vibes, bro. I'm rich in them" Sharky said, tossing the phone back at him and spinning once in place.

He clapped again, just a little too loud this time. A few crumbs shook loose from a shelf.

Kenny cracked up all over again, arms flailing as he tried to mimic a dance move no one had agreed on. Aj stumbled back into frame, mumbling that he couldn't believe he was doing this sober.

And Sharky, he just kept moving.

Kept pushing them all from one beat to the next, one scene to another.

Because if he paused...

If he let himself feel the rhythm underneath the noise...

It would all crack open.

And he didn't want to know what would come out.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Even on set, Sharky refused to blend into the background. He didn't believe in waiting around, not today. Not ever.

He bounced between scenes like a live wire, cracking jokes before takes, tossing banter over his shoulder while the sound guys adjusted levels. Between cuts, he leaned over the monitor, not because he needed to see playback but because it gave him something to do. He handed out gum like a street vendor. 

Asked if anyone wanted coffee and returned with four more than necessary. He offered to restage a shot they'd already nailed twice. Held the boom mic for a second, just to make the grips laugh. Changed shirts even when no one asked him to.

It was hustle but not for ego.

It was survival.

He couldn't sit still. Couldn't stand still. Couldn't be still.

Because when he did, he could feel the space shift. Like the air got heavier. Like his skin got too tight.

He never looked on purpose. Not directly. But somehow, in every corner of his peripheral vision, he knew.

Chunkz was there.

Standing just outside the shot. Silent. Unmoving.

Sometimes leaning against a wall. Sometimes just behind the lights. Sometimes adjusting a prop or pretending to scroll through his phone. Always quiet. Always close.

And Sharky? He could feel him.

Like static before a storm.

It wasn't noise. It wasn't confrontation. It was pull, quiet, steady, magnetic.

An awareness so persistent it lived under his skin. It wasn't new. Not really. But lately, it had taken shape or something sharper, clearer, something with weight.

A kind of gravity.

Subtle, but real.

And the worst part? It was growing. Every day. Every hour. Every time he caught himself reacting too fast to Chunkz's voice off-camera, or laughing a little louder at one of his jokes, or lingering too long after a scene wrapped.

It was always there now. Like the beginning of a song stuck in his head.

The trick was to stay loud. Stay moving.

He darted across the studio again, stealing a bite of someone's protein bar and pretending to gag dramatically. The crew laughed. Someone tossed him a prop hat. He put it on backwards, then sideways, then upside down. The camera wasn't rolling. He didn't care.

If he could make them laugh, he didn't have to listen to his own thoughts.

He didn't have to risk looking directly at the silhouette in his peripheral vision.

Because the second he did? He wasn't sure he'd be able to look away.

 

////_////_////_////

 

By dinnertime, Sharky's voice was almost gone. His throat had that raw, sandpaper edge, half from yelling, half from smiling too hard for too long. His jaw ached from overuse, like even his face was telling him to stop. But he didn't. Couldn't.

He had nothing to show for it, no epic behind-the-scenes stories. Just scattered bursts of laughter, a few inside jokes already fading, and a heartbeat that wouldn't slow down.

He sprawled sideways across the arm of the couch while Darkest launched into another theory about secret underwater governments or pigeons being government drones. Sharky nodded along, wide-eyed, like it was the first he'd ever heard of it. He even threw in a few gasps for drama.

When Kenny asked who was on food duty, Sharky immediately jumped up. 

"Nachos" Sharky said, too fast. 

"I got it" Sharky added.

No one had asked for nachos.

But he tore through the kitchen anyway, tossing open cabinets, half-chopping spring onions, melting too much cheese, pretending like the clatter and sizzle were music. Like the act of doing could still drown out the growing hum beneath his ribs.

He even hummed along with Niko's brutally off-key version of a pop song that should've been banned in three countries for how loud he was singing it. Sharky laughed when everyone else did, threw a handful of jalapeños at him, and called him tone-deaf with mock offense.

But inside? He was wrecked.

His thoughts swam. His limbs felt heavier than they should've. The laughter didn't reach past his cheeks anymore.

And worse than the exhaustion was the fact that no one noticed.

 

////_////_////_////

 

It was well past midnight when the house finally quieted. The others drifted into their own corners, bedrooms, bathrooms, voice chats with girlfriends or secret game sessions Sharky wasn't invited to. He wandered, aimless now that there was no one left to perform for.

The hallway was dim, lit only by the oven clock and the moonlight filtering through a thin kitchen curtain. His socked feet made no sound on the cool tile, his shoulders low, breath shallow.

That's when he saw him.

Chunkz.

Standing by the pantry, one hand curled around a bottle of water, the fridge humming quietly behind him.

He turned just slightly, caught mid-movement and their eyes locked.

Just for a second.

No. It was definitely longer than a second.

Long enough to register the tiredness behind Chunkz's eyes. Long enough to see that same hesitation, that same pause. Like both of them had come to the same silent stop at the same time without meaning to.

Chunkz gave him a small smile, gentle, soft-edged. The kind of smile that was never meant to be big or loud. The kind of smile that asked something without saying a word.

Sharky's breath hitched. His body stilled, rooted like a glitch in the hallway.

Then he dropped his gaze, too fast. His chest thudded like someone knocked from the inside.

Why is this so hard?

He didn't wait for the answer.

He turned.

He moved.

He dragged his feet down the hall like each step cost him something, just enough noise to fill the silence, just enough motion to feel real.

Because stillness meant seeing. Stillness meant feeling.

Stillness meant admitting something that terrified him.

And tonight?

He didn't have it in him.

 

////_////_////_////

 

He closed the door behind him with more force than he meant to. The soft thud echoed in the small bedroom like a final bell. He didn't lock it, but he leaned into it, back pressed hard against the wood, the cool surface grounding him for a moment.

His heart pounded.

Each thud reverberated up through his spine, into his throat, behind his eyes. He felt every beat like it didn't belong in his chest like someone had stuffed someone else's panic in there by mistake.

The room was dim, untouched since morning. Clothes tossed across the chair, ring light unplugged in the corner, water bottle tipped on its side and long since emptied. The curtains were half-closed, letting a slit of moonlight paint a silver line across his duvet.

He stumbled toward the bed without thinking, falling onto it like his body had given up trying to pretend. His limbs spread out, then curled in just as quickly. He folded onto himself. Muscles ached, not with soreness, but with the deep, invisible fatigue of holding everything in.

Emotional labor. That's what it was.

Not just the performance. Not just the jokes, the shouting, the deflection. It was every time he'd swallowed a glance, dodged a feeling, rerouted a thought before it could surface. Every time someone said, "You lot are close, yeah?" and he'd laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

He curled tighter, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around them in a grip that felt less like comfort and more like containment. His hoodie bunched around his face as his head dropped forward. The fabric smelled like yesterday like himself. Sweat and soap and something faintly citrus from the spray he wore when he wanted to feel like someone worth noticing.

But tonight the scent didn't soothe.

It mocked him.

It smelled like the boy who had spent the entire day running from the one person he couldn't unsee.

I'm not that.

 

I'm not that.

This isn't me.

 

But the thought looped. Warped.

What if it is?

What if it always was?

He pressed his palm flat to the center of his chest like he was trying to calm the organ beneath it. The heartbeat there was frantic, desperate like it had been trying to speak all day and only now found its voice.

It felt like a prisoner. Pacing, punching walls, begging for release.

He blinked hard, eyes dry but stinging. His jaw locked. Teeth clenched so tight it hurt his temples.

You're just a mess, he told himself, biting the words down like medicine. A broken mess who can't even admit how much he cares.

His chest trembled.

Then, slowly, his breath broke, uneven, shaky, like the crack in a dam starting to spread.

He closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the bend of his hoodie, folding in like he could disappear into himself.

And in the silence, for the first time that day, he didn't move.

 

////_////_////_////

 

He couldn't stop thinking about it.

About Chunkz's laugh tonight was unbothered, golden, the kind of laugh that bounced off the walls and made other people join in without knowing why. It had come from the kitchen, over something stupid Kenny said, but it had landed dangerously close to where Sharky stood, and that was the problem.

The sound had curved into his stomach like a thread pulled tight. It shouldn't have meant anything but it had.

And worse? He'd felt it. That tiny flutter. That stupid, soft-sick twist in his gut. That thing he kept trying to rename as indigestion or overthinking or just being tired.

But it had happened before.

In the kitchen last week, when their shoulders brushed by the sink. Or the other night, when Sharky had tossed him his hoodie, laughing, casual and Chunkz had worn it without question, the scent unmistakable. He'd caught sight of it again later, folded neatly beside Chunkz's bed, like something cherished.

That image had stuck to him like static.

And now? Now it was everything.

He lay flat, staring at the ceiling like it might offer him an escape route. The ache in his throat was back, raw and deep and shapeless, like grief for something he hadn't even lost yet.

He scrubbed the back of his hand across his face, hard. It came away damp, but he wasn't sure if it was sweat or tears or both or neither. His skin felt too tight. His body too hot.

He hated this.

Because acknowledging it even to himself that it felt like crossing a line he'd drawn a thousand times in his head. A line that had never been clear, but had always felt important. Necessary.

Crossing it wasn't about what happened physically. It was worse. It was the fact that he cared. Deeply. That he noticed things like the way Chunkz always leaned slightly to the left when he laughed or how he bit his bottom lip when he was focused. That the sound of his voice low, warm, careful that could undo Sharky in seconds.

He rolled onto his side, pulling the blanket up too fast, too tight, like maybe he could smother the thoughts before they fully bloomed.

"I'm better than this" Sharky muttered aloud, voice shaky, brittle.

He laughed, softly. A dry, weird laugh that sounded more like a glitch than joy. Like something his body did to pretend it was fine.

Then, quieter.

"I'm not in love with him" Sharky said, biting the words.

Another pause.

"I'm not... I'm not gay" Sharky added.

He whispered it like a curse, like a warning. Through clenched teeth, as if saying it out loud might be enough to seal it away, trap it beneath his ribs, lock it behind old jokes and easy smiles.

But the tightness in his chest didn't loosen.

It clenched harder.

No answer came. Just the silence. And the slow, steady beat of a heart that didn't feel like it belonged to him anymore.

He forced himself to breathe.

 

In. Out.

Slow. Deliberate. Like someone defusing a bomb with shaking hands.

 

He pressed the panic down like a lid over boiling water, trying to contain the sudden rise, the impulse to curl up so tightly he might disappear. His lungs shuddered around each breath, but he kept going. Slower. Shallower.

He gripped the edge of the sheets in both fists. His fingers dug into the fabric until it twisted beneath him. His knuckles turned pale, blood pushed away by the sheer force of holding on to something, anything other than the spiraling thoughts clawing at the edge of his mind.

He didn't need clarity. He needed distraction. Routine. Noise.

"Tomorrow" Sharky whispered. His voice was hoarse. It cracked halfway through the word.

"Tomorrow'll be better. I'll smile. I'll laugh. I'll be busy" Sharky added.

It didn't sound like conviction. It sounded like a wish with its back against the wall.

He closed his eyes and repeated it anyway, slower this time, like a chant:

I'll smile.

 

I'll laugh.

I'll be busy.

 

Let that be the rhythm.

Let that be the beat that drowns out everything else.

The low hum of the house filled in the gaps, pipes creaking, the fridge compressor kicking on, a breeze tapping once against the windowpane. Ordinary things. Familiar things. Background noise that proved the world was still turning.

He let his whispered promise settle beneath it all. Let it become part of the house's soundscape. A quiet lie tucked under floorboards.

Because if he stopped moving. If he stopped pretending. If he let the truth surface for even a second.

It would all fall apart. 

It would stop making sense.

And Sharky? He wasn't ready for that.

Not yet.

Not tonight.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Sharky leaned back against the park bench, exhaling a slow breath as the cool night air wrapped around him. Aj sat beside him, absentmindedly kicking a small rock with his sneaker, his hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie. 

The two of them had spent the last hour walking around, chatting about nothing in particular and for the most part, it had been a nice distraction. Sharky had been clinging to any moment of normalcy he could get lately, anything to keep his mind off of things he wasn't ready to deal with.

But A had always been sharp. Despite not being the most academically smart person, Aj, he noticed things, even when Sharky wished he wouldn't.

"You've been acting weird lately" Aj said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

Sharky stiffened slightly but he forced a chuckle, shaking his head. Aj only looked at him expectantly, like he knew Sharky would brush him and tell him off.

"Nah, you're just paranoid" Sharky said, avoiding eye contact as he deflected the question.

Aj didn't laugh like he normally would. He just tilted his head slightly, watching him. Not pressing, not pushing but not letting it go, either.

Sharky could feel the weight of that gaze. He sighed, looking straight ahead as he was still refusing to meet Aj's eyes. 

"I've just been busy, man. That's all" Sharky said, looking too far ahead.

"Busy, right" Aj repeated flatly.

Sharky huffed out a laugh, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. 

"Yes, busy. You know, the thing we're always complaining about? The constant filming, the editing, the planning?" Sharky reasoned, wishing Aj would be over with his crazy interrogation. 

"Yeah, sure but that's not what I mean and you know it" Aj said, humming in acknowledgement.

Sharky felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. He wasn't about to have this conversation. Not now. Not when he'd finally managed to push everything to the back of his mind for a little while.

Aj must've sensed the tension in Sharky's shoulders because he let out a breath and leaned back, staring up at the sky. 

"Look, bro. I'm not trying to get in your business but I know you" Aj said, backpedalling a bit.

Sharky swallowed. His fingers curled into the fabric of pants, gripping tightly. His composure slowly crumbling as he kept silent.

"Then you should know when to drop something" Sharky muttered, his voice quieter now, laced with something he wasn't ready to name.

Sharky doesn't mean to be rude to Aj, and the other knew it. It was just Sharky being Sharky. The one who keeps refusing something so obvious in front of him.

Aj let that sit between them for a moment before he sighed, shaking his head. 

"Alright, fine" Aj said as he dropped the subject, for now.

Sharky let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Maybe Aj would leave it alone. Maybe he could get back to pretending everything was normal.

But then Aj nudged him lightly with his elbow. 

"Just... if you need to talk, you know I'm here, right?" Aj has said before completely dropping it off as if it never even occur.

Sharky bit the inside of his cheek. The words lodged in his throat. He nodded instead. At least Aj cares, even if the guy was awkward and doesn't actually know how to comfort anyone.

They sat there for a while longer, the quiet settling between them again, but this time it felt heavier. Sharky could pretend all he wanted, but Aj's words lingered, pressing against the thoughts he had been so desperately trying to ignore.

And for the first time in weeks, Sharky felt something close to exhaustion creeping in because keeping up this act, pretending that everything was fine, was starting to wear him down.

Chapter 13: Close Enough to Hurt

Sharky lounged on the couch, his phone in one hand, scrolling mindlessly through Twitter as the usual chaos unfolded around him. 

The squad was sprawled across the living room, each engaged in their own thing. Aj was watching a football match, Kenny was complaining about some new trend, and Niko, as always, was trying to get a rise out of someone.

And then there was Chunkz.

He was sitting across from Sharky, half-watching Aj's match, half-messing around on his own phone but every now and then, he'd glance up, making some offhand comment that pulled Sharky's attention straight to him. Not that Sharky was paying attention. He wasn't. He was just... present. That's it.

"Yo, Sharky. What's that dead trim sayin' today?" Chunkz called, breaking the quiet hum of conversation.

Sharky blinked, caught off guard before his instincts kicked in. 

"Bold talk coming from you" Sharky shot back without missing a beat. 

"Your hairline's been running from you for years, bro. Might as well let it go" Sharky added, keeping composure as possible.

The room burst into laughter, even Chunkz throwing his head back. 

"Nah, that was personal. That felt targeted" Chunkz said as he kept a small smile on his face. At least he got a reaction from Sharky, that's all he wanted.

Sharky smirked, biting back the small, unwelcome warmth that stirred in his chest at the sound of Chunkz's laugh. It was too easy to fall into their usual rhythm, the back-and-forth, the effortless teasing. It was familiar, safe.

And that's why he kept it going.

If he kept things normal, then nothing had changed. If he kept pushing out jokes, kept laughing, kept rolling his eyes at every stupid thing Chunkz said, then he could keep himself in check. There was no reason for his mind to drift, no reason for his stomach to twist every time Chunkz casually threw an arm around his shoulder or nudged his knee under the table.

It was just Chunkz. His best friend.

"Alright, alright, I got one" Kenny jumped in, pointing at Sharky. 

"Would you rather have Aj's football skills but never be able to talk again, or Chunkz's singing ability but you gotta sound like him when you talk?" Kenny said as he looked at Sharky expectantly.

Sharky groaned, dramatically rubbing his temples as if thinking too hard about the options.

"Bro, what kind of cursed choices are these?" Sharky complains.

"Answer the question, man" Niko chimed in.

He hesitated for a second too long. Because if he answered honestly, if he said what actually came to his mind that he'd take Chunkz's voice in a heartbeat, no matter how ridiculous it made him sound, someone might catch on. He could already feel Niko watching him, too observant for his own good.

"Obviously, I'd take the football skills" Sharky answered smoothly. 

"Man's already good at talking, no need to ruin it with Chunkz's voice" Sharky said, giving Chunkz a quick side glance, seeing Chunkz's attention focused on him. 

Another round of laughter erupted, Chunkz's voice going louder this time. 

"Nah, he's coming for my whole life today" Chunkz almost yelled to the whole group.

Sharky grinned, but it felt hollow, even as Chunkz playfully shoved his shoulder. 

Keep it normal. Keep it safe. Keep it together

"Alright, alright" Chunkz relented, still laughing. 

Sharky huffed, settling deeper into the couch, his chest still buzzing from the interaction. But the laughter was fading, the moment settling, and that's when it hit him again. The way his heart beat just a little too fast, the way his body always knew when Chunkz was too close.

This is just admiration. That's all it is.

His fingers curled slightly against the cushion. He just admired Chunkz. His confidence, his charisma, the way he could light up any room. That's all it had ever been.

You're just overthinking. You always do.

He could feel his own thoughts creeping in, pushing past the walls he had so carefully built, and he needed a distraction. Fast.

"Yo, Aj, are you still trash at FIFA or did you finally step up?" Sharky blurted out, turning toward him abruptly.

Aj gawked at him, scandalized. 

"Bro, I literally violated you last time we played" Aj said with a smug grin, leaning himself towards Niko beside him.

"That was luck, I'll decimate you in a rematch" Sharky said, leaning forward. 

"Bet, run it right now" Aj said.

Aj grabbed the controller and just like that, Sharky latched onto the distraction, pushing everything else away.

He'd keep playing, keep laughing, keep pushing forward like nothing was wrong. Like everything was just as it had always been.

Because as long as he did, he wouldn't have to think about the way his heart ached every time Chunkz smiled at him.

////_////_////_////

The FIFA rematch had been chaos.

Sharky had fought hard, desperate flicks, desperate passes but it ended, spectacularly, with Aj's last-second goal. A stunner from outside the box that had no business being that perfect.

Aj shot up from the floor like he'd won a World Cup, arms raised, screaming "THAT'S CLASS! THAT'S CLASS!" in a voice that could probably be heard two postcodes away.

Sharky launched a cushion at his head in mock betrayal.

"Sit down, bro" Sharky yelled, grinning through gritted teeth as Aj pranced around the room, reenacting his goal from every angle like a sports commentator having a breakdown.

"You practiced that celebration in the mirror, I know you did" Sharky added.

The room burst into laughter, Kenny nearly fell off the armrest from giggling. Niko filmed the whole thing for his story, chuckling behind the camera as he zoomed in on Sharky's "face of defeat"

For a while, it was impossible not to smile.

The noise, the warmth, the nonsense, it held him up like scaffolding. He laughed when they laughed. He clapped back with half-hearted insults. He let himself exist in the distraction.

But then.

The energy shifted.

It was so small, so gradual, he barely noticed until the corners of the room started to feel farther away.

Niko stretched theatrically, groaning like he'd just finished a shift at a construction site.

"I'm out" Niko said, rubbing his face.

"Early start tomorrow. Peace" Niko added.

Aj stood with a sigh and checked his phone.

"Same, man. Sharky can take the L in peace now" Aj said.

"Wow, cowards" Sharky muttered.

But his voice lacked edge.

Kenny lingered, half-looking for his charger, half-looking for a reason to stay, but then mumbled something about needing to plug in his phone and shuffled off too, trailing behind the others.

Footsteps faded. Bedroom doors closed one by one.

The house dimmed.

Quiet settled like dust.

The only light came from the soft blue glow of the muted TV screen, playing silent replays of highlights no one was watching.

Sharky remained on the couch. Controller still in his hand, resting dead against his thigh. He didn't look up.

Across from him, Chunkz hadn't moved.

He sat back in the corner of the L-shaped couch, arms folded across his chest, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. His body was still, but his gaze wasn't.

He was watching Sharky.

Not with the usual grin. Not with teasing. Not even with curiosity.

His expression was quieter than that. More cautious. Studying.

And Sharky could feel it.

He kept his eyes on the screen like it mattered. Like he could still hear commentary. But the weight of that stare was unmissable, warm and heavy and landing directly on the place inside him he'd spent all night avoiding.

The air in the room thickened. It didn't feel like downtime anymore.
It felt like a held breath.

They were alone.

Too alone.

And it felt like something was about to happen.

////_////_////_////

Chunkz let the silence stretch.

Not uncomfortably. Not yet.

Just... intentionally.

It was a beat too long. Long enough to notice. Long enough to feel the weight of everything they weren't saying.

Then, quietly.

"You wanna say something?" Chunkz asked.

His voice didn't bite. It wasn't sharp. It didn't come armed with accusation or heat. If anything, it was soft. Worn at the edges. Tired in the kind of way that came from waiting too long for someone to speak up.

It wasn't confrontational. It was... something else. Patient. Careful.

But beneath that calm was a quiet urgency. A readiness. The kind of tone that said.

"I've been waiting. I'm still giving you space. But not forever"

Sharky's eyes flicked up.

They caught.

It was only a glance but it landed like a punch. He opened his mouth, the shape of honesty forming, And then.

"No" Sharky said.

The word dropped too fast. Flat. Hard. Reflexive.

A door slammed shut in the middle of a sentence.

Chunkz didn't react right away. But a small tension crept across his brow, a slight pinch between his eyes. Barely there. But enough.

"You sure?" Chunkz asked, voice still level, still impossibly gentle. Like he knew the answer already.

Sharky laughed.

Too quick. Too thin. A forced little sound that tried to wrap the moment in casualness and failed.

"Yeah, what would I have to say?" Sharky said, leaning back like it was nothing. Like his entire body wasn't braced underneath the pose.

Chunkz didn't answer.

He just watched him.

And Sharky felt it, that silence again. Not empty. Not neutral. It was full. Heavy with all the unsaid things hanging between them. Every almost-moment.

Every look that lingered too long. Every time Sharky had deflected with a joke, or left a room too quickly, or pretended the hallway didn't exist.

They both knew what was really being asked.

And they both knew what hadn't been said.

Not yet.

////_////_////_////

Chunkz shifted forward slowly, letting his arms rest on his knees, hands clasped together. His movement was deliberate, grounding, like someone bracing for an impact they couldn't quite name but had seen coming for weeks.

"Sharky..." Chunkz began, the name sounding heavier than usual, softer around the edges.

"If something's going on..." Chunkz trailed off.

He paused. Not for effect, just to get the words right. Just to not make it worse.

"...you know you can tell me, right?" Chunkz said.

His voice was low, careful, threaded with caution and quiet hope. He wasn't poking. He wasn't accusing. He was offering.

But Sharky didn't meet his eyes. Didn't even flinch.

He stared at the TV screen instead. It was still paused, frozen mid-match, the stats and colors blurry and meaningless. A snapshot of pretend normalcy. One he could pretend to focus on if he just kept still enough.

His jaw tightened.

"There's nothing going on" Sharky said.

Flat. Again. No emotion. Just the safe answer.

Chunkz nodded once, slow. He didn't push, but it was clear he didn't believe it. Not for a second.

"You've been... different" Chunkz said finally.

"Distant" Chunkz added.

He didn't mean it as a weapon. Just a truth.

"You barely talk to me unless someone else is around. You brush me off. Change the subject. Leave rooms too quick" Chunkz said.

His voice dipped lower, more vulnerable now, more tired.

"And I don't know if I did something wrong... or if you're going through something and I'm just not part of it anymore" Chunkz said.

That last part.

Not part of it anymore .

Hung in the air like a hairline crack in glass. Just small enough to ignore. Just deep enough to threaten a shatter.

Sharky swallowed hard. It was a subtle movement but Chunkz saw it. He felt it. That resistance. That pressure building behind Sharky's silence.

Still, Sharky didn't look at him.

"I'm just tired" Sharky said, quieter now. Like he knew it was a lie, but hoped saying it softly would make it stick.

"Work's been a lot. That's all" Sharky added.

Chunkz exhaled slowly through his nose. His gaze didn't waver.

He didn't push again. He didn't try to yank the door open.

But he didn't pretend to believe him, either.

He just sat there.

Present.

Still open.

Still waiting.

And Sharky, he could feel that too. The weight of it. The patience. The care. It pressed on him from the side like a tide inching closer. It made his chest hurt.

But instead of speaking.

Instead of cracking.

Instead of anything.

He reached for the controller.

Fingers wrapped around it like a lifeline. As if gripping plastic could anchor him in whatever fiction he'd just tried to sell.

Like the conversation hadn't happened.

Like none of it was real.

Like he didn't feel everything pulling him in, begging him to stop pretending.

And beside him, Chunkz sat back, shoulders quiet, expression unreadable.

But he didn't leave.

////_////_////_////

Chunkz leaned back slowly, the couch creaking just faintly beneath him. He exhaled through his nose, long, steady. Not annoyed. Not performative. Just... final.

"Right" Chunkz said, barely above a whisper.

"Okay" Chunkz added.

Two syllables. Quiet. Measured.

And not angry.

Not sharp, not cold.

Worse than all of that.

It was resignation.

It landed like a stone dropped into water, no splash, just a slow, invisible sinking. A sound that wasn't meant to provoke, only to acknowledge something had been lost.

And Sharky felt it instantly. The shift. The temperature change.

He hated that tone.

Hated it more than yelling.

More than confrontation.

Because it meant Chunkz had stopped fighting. Stopped hoping. Stopped waiting for him to show up, emotionally, in a space that used to be effortless.

The silence that followed wasn't empty, it was massive. Like a canyon had opened between them, carved from all the words Sharky hadn't said. Wide. Deep. Impossible.

Sharky stayed motionless, staring at the frozen TV, its artificial light flickering across both their faces. But out of the corner of his eye, he looked.

Just for a second.

He caught the way Chunkz's mouth had tightened, subtle, like he was swallowing the instinct to say more. Saw the way his shoulders dropped, not with exhaustion, but with quiet defeat. A man retreating, not running.

And Sharky...

He still said nothing.

Did nothing.

The controller lay heavy in his lap like dead weight.

Chunkz pushed himself off the couch in one fluid movement. His steps weren't angry. They weren't slow. They were just... steady. Quiet. Like someone excusing himself from a conversation that had already ended.

At the base of the stairs, he stopped.

Didn't look back.

But his voice floated back over his shoulder, low and sincere.

"I hope whatever it is..." Chunkz trailed off.

A breath. A pause.

"...you stop carrying it alone" Chunkz said.

Then he walked away. Up the stairs, each step soft but final, like closing pages one by one.

And Sharky.

He stayed frozen.

The controller slid a little down his thigh but didn't fall.

The TV kept glowing.

But his chest.

It felt like it had caved in.

And this time, there was no noise to hide behind.

////_////_////_////

The house was winding down.

Laughter had faded into echoes. The kind of softened chatter that lived in doorways and lingered at thresholds as guests filtered out, pulling on jackets, exchanging final jokes, and calling back thank-yous into rooms already half-forgotten.

The bass still thrummed low in the walls, muted now, barely more than a pulse beneath the floorboards. But it was steady, like a heartbeat the house hadn't stopped feeling yet.

In the living room, Sharky lay sprawled across the couch, a half-empty Solo cup balanced perilously on the floor near his fingers. He looked like a statue someone had abandoned mid-sculpt.

His legs dangled off one end, an arm tossed over his eyes as if blocking out the overhead light, even though it was already dimmed to a soft, golden hush.

The room around him was chaos in aftermath: cushions everywhere, snack crumbs on the carpet, the scent of aftershave and crisps and cola still clinging to the air.

Someone's hoodie hung off the back of a chair. Someone's laughter echoed briefly from the kitchen, then died.

His phone rested in his hand, face up.

The screen glowed faintly against his thigh, but he wasn't looking at it. His thumb hovered, still. His thoughts drifted in currents far from the screen, adrift, untethered, but circling something he didn't dare name.

Beside him.

Chunkz.

Not touching. Not pressed close. But there. Present in a way that changed the temperature of the space between them.

He sat leaned slightly forward, elbows on his knees, head tilted just enough that Sharky could feel the shape of his attention. He wasn't speaking. Wasn't fidgeting. Just being. Quiet. Grounded.

But that was the problem.

Sharky could feel the warmth of him.
Feel it in the two inches of air between their thighs.

Feel it in the way his own heartbeat stuttered, just slightly, against the rhythm of the bass in the walls.

His breath caught every few seconds, barely noticeable but enough to make him aware of himself. Of his body. Of the drag in his chest that had nothing to do with fatigue and everything to do with proximity.

The quiet stretched.

Not uncomfortable.

But intimate.

Too intimate.

The kind of silence that suggested things were being said without words. The kind of stillness that made Sharky acutely aware of the heat radiating off the person sitting just beside him.

The kind that made his fingers twitch, not from nerves, but from want. From the ache of keeping still.

And yet... he didn't move.

He couldn't.

Because the moment he shifted, breathed too loud, looked up, it would become real.

And he wasn't sure what would happen then.

////_////_////_////

"You're really out here acting like you don't love this song, huh?" Chunkz said.

Chunkz's voice slipped into the space between them like a thread, light, teasing, deliberate.

But there was weight behind the ease. The kind of weight that comes when someone knows exactly what they're doing, exactly how the silence has stretched and exactly how to puncture it.

Sharky turned his head slowly, already bracing for the follow-up. A jab. A joke. Something to jolt the moment back into safe territory.

But when he looked at Chunkz, he saw that smile.

Not a wide grin. Not laughter-ready.

Just a soft, amused curve at the corners of his mouth. Familiar. Dangerous.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Sharky replied, leaning on his usual tone, cocky, flippant, all surface.

"I have refined taste" Sharky added.

It almost worked.

But his voice.

Just for a second.

Trembled.

He heard it as it left him. A quiver, like the sentence didn't want to be said. Like his body betrayed the effort it took to keep playing the part.

And Chunkz caught it.

Of course he did.

That flicker in his eyes deepened, his smirk shifting ever so slightly into something knowing. His head tilted, just a little. Not in mockery. In recognition.

Then he moved, not a lean exactly, but a shift.

A subtle lean-in, slow and unassuming, like gravity had adjusted between them. Like his body was answering something neither of them had said.

And then, low.

"You know" Chunkz murmured.

"You're actually one of the best people I know" Chunkz added.

A pause. Then, with a touch more warmth.

"Despite being stubborn" Chunkz continued.

It wasn't a confession. It wasn't a grand declaration. It was something more dangerous, more intimate.

It was truth. Disguised in ease. Delivered like an offhand comment. But it landed with precision.

Sharky's heart flipped. Full tilt. Like it had been waiting for the cue.

Suddenly, everything went still.

The hum of the TV. The bass in the walls. Even the late-night murmur of the house around them, it all faded to static.

There was only the space between them.

Tighter now. Thicker.

Sharky's breath caught in his throat. He didn't move. Didn't look away.

And still, Chunkz didn't press further. Didn't clarify. Didn't retreat.

He just sat there.

Close. Warm. Honest.

Like he'd placed something fragile between them and was waiting to see if Sharky would pick it up, or drop it.

Chapter 14: After The Silence

No one joked. No one laughed.

The room, once full of motion and noise had gone quiet in that charged way that wasn't empty, just full of something neither of them dared to say.

Only the low beat of the song, muted, rhythmic, almost mournful now, threaded through the background. That and the faint hum of voices from farther down the hall, the tail end of a party winding down somewhere distant. Too distant.

In here, time held its breath.

Chunkz didn't look away.

His gaze was steady. Warm, yes but focused. Searching. Like he was watching Sharky too closely to be casual about it. Like he was looking for something he thought might be there but didn't want to name until he was sure.

And maybe he'd heard it. That tremor. That flicker of hesitation in Sharky's voice, just enough to crack the mask.

Sharky's chest felt like it had shrunk two sizes, tightened by something invisible and growing heavier with every second that passed.

The words replayed.

One of the best people I know.

So simple. So kind.

And yet it unspooled in his head like a thread yanked too hard, pulled loose from somewhere deep, somewhere private. The kind of compliment that wasn't just about who he was. It was about how seen he felt. How known.

And that was what made it terrifying.

What did it mean?

Why did it land like more?

Why did it hit behind his ribs like a confession?

He swallowed hard. Blinked rapidly, like his body was trying to blink away the ache rising behind his eyes, in his throat, in the tightest corners of his chest.

His pulse was a roar now, thundering through his ears like waves crashing against his own silence.

He couldn't speak.

His tongue stayed heavy. Useless.

He wanted to scream. To throw the controller. To shout something dumb, anything, just to shatter the moment.

He wanted to run. Or laugh it off. Or deflect. Or say it, whatever it was.

He wanted to reach across the space between them and put his hand on Chunkz's wrist and finally, finally stop pretending.

But he didn't move.

The moment held. Sharp. Fragile.

Like a glass balanced on a ledge, teetering.

And no one willing to catch it first.

 

////_////_////_////

 

"You okay there, Sharky?" Chunkz's voice cut through the fog like a soft blade, sharp only because it landed too gently.

It wasn't teasing. It wasn't casual.

It was tender.

Concern folded into every syllable, like he'd seen something behind Sharky's eyes that Sharky hadn't meant to show. And it unraveled something inside him almost instantly.

Sharky's brain short-circuited. His thoughts, already tangled, exploded into static. The warmth in Chunkz's voice, the care was too direct, too exposed, too much.

His body reacted before his mind could catch up.

"Yeah" Sharky said, too fast.

"Yeah, totally fine" Sharky added.

The words crashed out of him in a rush, brittle and clumsy. His voice cracked midway through, too loud, too defensive, like a window slammed shut during a storm.

Chunkz's brow twitched.

Not dramatically. Just enough. His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing not in judgment, but in quiet concern. Like he was trying to decide whether he'd just broken something fragile or had stumbled too close to it.

He noticed.

He definitely noticed.

The silence returned but now it was sharper, jagged-edged, full of echoes.

Sharky shifted, as if movement could smooth over the break.

And then.

Click.

The door creaked open behind them.

The cold rush of air carried in voices, laughter, shoes scuffing across tile, someone calling for a charger in the hallway.

The moment shattered.

Like a breath held too long, suddenly exhaled.

Sharky pulled away instinctively, shoulders tightening, body leaning subtly in the opposite direction. He moved like someone unplugging a wire before it could short out.

Chunkz didn't stop him.

He looked toward the door, expression unreadable now. Whatever had flickered in his eyes moments ago, it faded back behind his usual stillness.

And Sharky.

He sat frozen.

Heart racing. Pulse in his neck. Every part of him aching from the effort of pretending he hadn't just almost said everything without speaking at all.

The noise outside grew louder.

But the real sound was what had gone quiet between them.

Sharky bolted upright.

Too fast. Too sudden.

The movement was sharp, ungraceful, a break from the languid silence of moments before. His arms came up reflexively, folding tight across his chest like armor. Not casual. Not relaxed. A shield.

"I think I've had enough of retro music" Sharky muttered, voice stiff, brittle with effort.

"I'll go get some air" Sharky added.

He didn't look at Chunkz.

Didn't wait for a response.

But out of the corner of his eye, he caught it, the slow, cautious nod. The way Chunkz's chin dipped once, hesitant. Like he wasn't sure if it was permission or resignation. Maybe it was both.

Or maybe it was something else entirely, an apology. An invitation. A silent don't go he couldn't quite say out loud.

But before either of them could name it.

Sharky was already on his feet.

He slid off the couch with practiced urgency, movement fluid but purposeful, like someone escaping before a question could be asked. His socks whispered across the floor as he headed toward the hallway, not bothering to glance back.

Chunkz didn't stop him.

Didn't call out.

He just watched him go, jaw tight, fingers laced together in his lap as the living room's warmth cooled around him.

The moment, the almost drifted in the air, fragile and unfinished.

And then it was gone.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Sharky stepped into the hallway, and the shift was immediate, like stepping through a curtain and into another world entirely.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the noise behind him softened, distorted. The retro music faded into a distant throb, barely audible now through the closed door.

The hum of laughter from the kitchen became muffled, flattened into meaningless background noise, like a party happening in someone else's life.

The air out here was cooler. Not cold. Just... still.

It wrapped around him like a wet cloth, clinging to his skin. The kind of quiet that carried no comfort, only contrast. The walls loomed taller in the dimness. The floor beneath his socked feet felt steadier than his legs. 

Every step sounded louder than it should've. Every creak of the wood underfoot a reminder that he was moving away from something that had nearly broken open.

He walked fast, then slower, like his body couldn't decide if it was fleeing or just drifting. His arms stayed crossed tightly over his chest, fingertips dug into his sleeves. The hoodie clung damply to his back, heat trapped from too long in a tense room.

He inhaled, sharply. Exhaled, too hard.

Then again. Shaky. Unsteady.

Like he was trying to breathe himself into reason.

His eyes locked on the shadowy outline of his bedroom door at the end of the hall. A target. A finish line.

But the real storm wasn't behind any door.

It was inside.

His thoughts tore in circles, too fast to hold still, crashing into each other like bumper cars. And one question rose up through the noise, over and over, louder than everything else.

Why can't I just tell him?

Why couldn't he say it?

Whatever it was? 

Why did the words claw at his throat only to die before they reached his tongue?

Why did everything inside him tremble the moment Chunkz looked at him with that careful, kind softness, like he already knew, like he was waiting?

He pressed a palm against the center of his chest, as if that could calm it down. As if he could hold himself shut from the inside.

He reached inward anyway, into that aching, hidden part of him, the one buried deep behind years of jokes, behind bravado, behind rehearsed comebacks and quick exits. He tried to grab hold of something real.

Reach for it. Name it. Be honest, just this once.

But the second he got close, fear slammed the door.

Hard. Final. Like a vault clamping shut inside him.

No. Not now.

Not yet.

His throat tightened. His eyes burned, but not with tears, just pressure. The kind that built up from too many things unsaid.

He didn't look back. He couldn't.

Because if he did, if he turned even halfway, he might catch a glimpse of Chunkz, still sitting on that couch, still watching the door with that unreadable expression. And maybe there'd be something in his eyes. A flicker. A fracture. A truth.

Something that made this real.

And Sharky wasn't ready for that.

Because then it wouldn't just be something he felt.

It would be theirs.

And that terrified him more than anything else.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The door hissed shut behind him, the latch clicking softly into place like the closing of a chapter he hadn't finished reading.

Sharky stood still for a second, back pressed against the cool wood. The hallway was gone no, Chunkz's voice, the laughter, the couch, all tucked behind that door. But none of it stayed behind. It followed him. Pressed into his skin like ink.

The air in the room was darker than he remembered. A soft blue from the charger port glowed near the wall, barely illuminating the clutter, hoodie tossed across a chair, discarded trainers near the edge of the bed, a half-empty bottle of water tilting off his nightstand.

It smelled faintly like cologne and old stress. Familiar. Unsettling.

His hand rose automatically to his chest, fingers twisting into the thick cotton of his hoodie. The pressure of the fabric grounded him, gave his fingers something to do, something to hold, as if he could keep himself from unraveling entirely.

Then his knees gave out.

He didn't fall hard. He just slid down the door slowly, like his body was exhaling a truth it had held too long. His back curved in, folding around the ache in his chest. His head dropped between his arms. He gripped tighter, fists curling against his own ribs.

And that was when everything caught up.

Not in a wave. In fragments.

The small, sharp sniffle he hadn't meant to make. The burn behind his eyes that refused to turn into tears. The way his throat had felt like it was being crushed from the inside out. That flicker of panic, brief but blinding, that hit when he realized how close he'd come to not being able to lie anymore.

It wasn't just about what Chunkz had said.

It was how he'd said it.

One of the best people I know.

So simple. So casual. But it had opened something in Sharky he'd been keeping sealed for years.

And then.

You okay there, Sharky?

That tone. That quiet tenderness wrapped in concern. That pause before the name. That was the one that undid him.

You sure? Because you look... off.

That one stung the most. Because it meant Chunkz had seen it. The crack in the mask. The moment Sharky hadn't been fast enough with a joke. The tremor in his voice he couldn't disguise.

Now, in this room, in the dark, those words looped. Not as accusations. But as... possibilities. Lifelines. Tests. Promises.

Each one a window. Each one a chance to say something back.

But none of them, none actually answered the question that had rooted itself deep in Sharky's chest:

What if I feel more than I'm supposed to?

What then?

He rested his forehead against his knees, breath shallow.

And tonight? All he had was silence.

Begging, aching silence. And he clung to it like it might hold him together just a little longer.



////_////_////_////

A knock. Soft. Measured. Not urgent. But familiar.

The kind of knock that didn't ask for permission, it just gave a heads-up before crossing a line that had already been drawn in sand.

Sharky's head snapped up before the sound had even finished echoing. He already knew who it was.

He could feel it, knew the weight behind the knock, the rhythm of it. The slight pause before the second tap. The kind of knock that said "I'm not here to bother you. I'm here because I care"

The door creaked open a second later. Quiet, slow. Just wide enough for Niko to peek his head through.

"Yo" Niko said, his voice was softer than usual.

No jokes. No mischief. Just that one word, low and careful.

He wasn't smiling.

Sharky didn't turn fully. Just shifted his head a fraction toward the sound, still hunched on the floor with his arms wrapped tight around his torso.

"Not now, bro" Sharky muttered, barely above a whisper.

The words were raw, barely formed. Not angry, just tired. Worn out. Defensive only in the way someone sounded when they'd run out of things to defend.

But Niko didn't leave.

He stepped inside anyway, slow and sure, like someone entering a quiet room in the middle of the night, respectful, but not afraid to be there.

"Yeah, well" Niko said, closing the door gently behind him with a soft click.

"That hasn't stopped you from walking in on me when I was hiding in rooms before" Niko added.

He didn't say it with attitude.

No bite. No edge. Just a memory. A reminder.

The truth of it sat in the air between them. A long thread stretched across years of friendship, those nights when Niko had spiraled in the quiet, and Sharky had been the one who ignored every "I'm good" and "not now"

Now the roles had reversed. And Niko wasn't going anywhere.

He didn't ask for permission to stay. He didn't fill the room with false cheer. He didn't sit down right away either, just stood there, giving Sharky time. Space. The dignity of not being immediately swarmed.

Sharky didn't move.

Didn't speak. Didn't turn around.

He just kept his eyes trained on the floor, lips pressed into a line, fingers digging into his own sleeves. His breathing was still shallow, shoulders drawn inward like he could make himself small enough to disappear into the floorboards.

Niko glanced around the room. It was dim, silent, the kind of heavy silence that only comes after something almost happened. The kind that felt like aftermath.

And he recognized it.

Not just as someone who'd seen it in others but as someone who'd felt it in himself.

So he moved, finally with slow steps, no sudden noise and lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed a few feet away.

Not too close. But close enough. He didn't speak right away.

Didn't ask questions Sharky wasn't ready to answer.

He just sat there, elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced, gaze tilted toward the same spot on the carpet Sharky had been staring at.

And together, they let the silence stretch.

Not empty. Not cold.

Just shared.

////_////_////_////

Niko didn't speak at first.

He just sank slowly down to the floor beside Sharky's bed, exhaling as his back met the cool wall. His limbs moved with a kind of practiced stillness like he'd done this before, in other rooms, on other nights, sitting beside other friends who didn't know how to say "I'm not okay"

His arms draped lazily over his knees, fingers idly tapping against denim. His head tilted back slightly, hitting the wall with a soft thud. Eyes half-lidded. Mouth pressed in a neutral line. Not smiling. Not frowning. Just there.

The silence wasn't comfortable. It had weight.

It sat between them like fog, thick, heavy, resisting movement. Not the silence of peace. The silence of someone waiting just long enough to make sure you were ready to hear what they were about to say.

And finally, Niko broke it.

His voice was quiet, but direct. No dramatic lead-in. No slow buildup.

"You okay?" Niko asked.

Just that. The question that Sharky had been outrunning all night. All week. Maybe longer.

Sharky didn't answer right away. Just let out a slow exhale through his nose, more sigh than breath. He ran his palm over his face like he was trying to rub something off that wasn't there. When he spoke, it was automatic, mechanical.

"I'm fine" Sharky said.

One beat. Two.

Niko didn't even blink.

"Liar" Niko said.

The word was delivered flat, unflinching. No edge. No heat. Just fact. It landed between them with the soft finality of a closed door.

Sharky scoffed, more reflex than emotion. He leaned back against the door again, rubbing the base of his neck like it could soothe the coil of tension lodged in his spine.

"Bro, can we not?" Sharky said, tone sharp around the edges. 

"Just drop it" Sharky added.

Niko turned his head slowly toward him. His expression didn't shift, but his eyes sharpened. Not angry. Focused.

"I've been letting you drop it" Niko said calmly. 

"For weeks" Niko added.

His voice didn't rise, but the words carried weight, like stones placed one by one on a table.

"And now" Niko continued, leaning in just slightly.

"I'm picking it back up" Niko said.

The silence after that wasn't fog.

It was thunder waiting to happen.

Sharky clenched his jaw.

He wanted to argue. To deflect. To make a joke. To say something sharp that would shove Niko back just far enough so he wouldn't see the edges of what was breaking underneath.

But he didn't.

Because Niko hadn't come to pry.

He'd come to see him.

And he had.

Sharky didn't answer.

His jaw clenched, his stare fixed somewhere near the edge of the carpet like he could bore a hole through it. The silence wrapped back around them, thicker now, defensive. But Niko wasn't fazed.

He adjusted his position slightly, shifting just enough to lean one elbow onto the bed frame. His voice remained calm, unshaken but firmer this time. More deliberate.

"I saw you tonight" Niko said.

Sharky flinched barely perceptibly.

"You practically sprinted out of that room like it was on fire" Niko continued, voice unwavering, 

"The second Chunkz looked at you too long" Niko said.

Sharky's hands curled into fists where they rested against his knees.

The words hit too cleanly. Too close. Like Niko had opened a window into something Sharky had been trying to wall off brick by brick.

Niko didn't stop.

"I know that look" Niko said, quieter now, but somehow heavier. 

"You think I didn't have to talk Aj down from a full-blown spiral not that long ago?" Niko asked.

That did it.

Sharky's head snapped around, eyes sharp, voice rising before he could think better of it.

"That's not the same thing" Sharky said.

The words came out hard, brittle. Like they'd been sitting in his chest for too long and had cracked on the way out.

Niko didn't flinch. He just raised an eyebrow, slow and surgical.

"Isn't it?" Niko asked, simply.

And for a second, the question hovered in the air between them like smoke.

Sharky opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, throat tight. He didn't have an answer. Or maybe he did, but it was one he wasn't ready to say out loud.

Because it wasn't just about Aj. It wasn't about spirals or support.

It was about what Niko had seen and what he'd dared to name.

Chunkz.

That look.

The way Sharky had frozen in the living room. The way his breath had caught when their eyes met. The way the air had felt too thick around him, too still, too full of a tension he hadn't been able to control.

And the way he'd run from it.

Because it wasn't just awkwardness. It wasn't confusion. It wasn't something he could laugh off anymore.

Niko had seen it. Named it. Held it in his palm.

"What now?"  Niko asked.

And Sharky? He didn't know what to do with that.

Not yet.

Not when everything inside him still screamed don't say it, don't name it, don't let it be real.

Sharky shot to his feet like something had grabbed him from below.

He moved fast, too fast, pacing immediately, like his body couldn't contain the pressure anymore. Like sitting still was suffocating. His footsteps thudded lightly against the floor, his arms wrapped around his chest, then dropped, then rose again, restless.

"You don't know what you're talking about" Sharky snapped, voice cracking just slightly under the strain. 

"You don't"  Sharky added.

But Niko stayed where he was seated, calm, grounded like a stone in a riverbed, watching the storm swirl around him.

"Don't I?" Niko said.

Not mocking. Not challenging.

Just... certain.

That made Sharky flinch harder than if he'd been yelled at. He turned, eyes flashing, breathing shallow now.

"I'm not--" Sharky started, then stopped.

"Whatever you think I am, alright? It's not like that" Sharky said as he waved a hand, vague, frustrated.

His voice was louder now. Sharper. But the volume didn't disguise the tremble behind it.

Niko didn't respond immediately. He tilted his head, gaze softer now. Less piercing, more open.

"Then tell me what it's like" Niko said simply.

No pressure. No trap. Just a bridge, offered gently.

Sharky stopped pacing.

Stood still in the center of the room, caught in the open space with nowhere to run. His mouth opened, instinct. But the words didn't come. His throat worked around them, breath shallow, jaw locked.

His gaze drifted away.

Toward the corner. The charger port. The wall. Anywhere but at Niko.

"I..." Sharky started.

Then, finally, quiet. Defeated.

"It's nothing" Sharky said.

His arms dropped back to his sides. His whole posture slumped, like the fight had left him the second the lie escaped.

Niko exhaled through his nose, not angry, just tired.

He rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes briefly before looking back at him.

"You're lying" Niko said gently. 

"To me. And to yourself" Niko added.

The room went still again.

And this time, there was no humor to run to. No party noise down the hall. No Chunkz to glance at and then pretend not to see.

Just the two of them.

One standing. One sitting. Both holding a truth that had nowhere left to hide

"You think you know everything, don't you?" Sharky snapped, voice lashing out like a whip.

His eyes flared, wide, burning, defensive. The words came fast, too fast to stop, riding on the crest of adrenaline and shame. 

"Just 'cause you've got your little romance thing going on, suddenly you're the expert?" Sharky added.

It was a low blow. And he knew it.

He saw it land the moment it left his mouth. The flicker across Niko's face, not a wince, not a flinch. Just the subtle way his jaw tensed, eyes narrowing slightly. A controlled inhale. A beat of silence thick with meaning.

But Niko didn't lash back.

He didn't roll his eyes. Didn't bite. Didn't fire off a comeback like Sharky expected, wanted, maybe. Anything would've been easier than this restrained stillness.

He just stared at him, the disappointment slow-burning, unspoken, but unmistakable.

Sharky's stomach twisted. He regretted it immediately.

The words sat on his tongue, dry and bitter.

But he didn't take them back.

Because to take them back would mean admitting why he said them in the first place.

Admitting he was scared. That he was cracking. And that, he couldn't do.

So the silence stretched again.

This time worse than any before. Not just uncomfortable. Not tense.

Heavy.

Like a door swinging shut between them.

Niko stood. No sudden movement. No dramatic rise.

Just calm, deliberate gravity as he lifted himself from the floor, brushed off his palms, and looked Sharky in the eye.

And when he spoke, his voice was low. Steady. Devastatingly gentle.

"You know what hurts more than not telling someone how you feel?" Niko asked

Sharky didn't move. His arms hung limp at his sides. His throat bobbed once. Niko didn't wait for an answer.

"Pushing everyone away when they already know" Niko said.

There was no bitterness in it. No venom. Only clarity. A quiet truth laid bare.

And Sharky felt it, like a strike he couldn't dodge. It sank into him slow and cold and exact. Niko took a step back.

"When you're ready to stop running" Niko said, voice barely above a murmur now.

"You know where I am" Niko added.

And then he left.

No slammed doors. No lingering stare. Just the sound of retreating footsteps down the hall, and the soft click of the door behind him.

Sharky stood in the middle of the room, silence closing in once more, louder now than before.

But this time, it wasn't just silence.

It was loneliness.

And the unbearable weight of being seen.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The door clicked shut with a soft finality.

No slam. No dramatics. Just the kind of quiet exit that left a mark far deeper than raised voices ever could.

Sharky stood there for a second, frozen in the stillness. The air felt different now, emptier. Like something had been pulled out of the room and taken with it or maybe like something had been left behind, heavy and invisible, weighing down the corners.

His legs gave a small tremble. He lowered himself back down slowly, collapsing onto the edge of his bed with the sort of motion reserved for people who've finally stopped holding themselves upright out of pride.

His hands went to his face, fingers dragging over his skin, palms pressing into his eyes like maybe he could erase what had just happened. But the ache in his chest wouldn't budge.

It pulsed with something too big for his ribs, shame, guilt, grief, fear, all tangled so tight he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

He let out a low breath that stuttered halfway through, barely held together.

Why do I keep doing this?

He asked himself silently, bitterly.

Why do I keep pushing away the people who care? 

Why does being seen feel like a threat? 

Why does the truth feel like a trap instead of a way out?

And then his gaze dropped.

The hoodie.

It was bunched in his lap, creased and half-folded, the same one he'd worn all evening like armor. The same one Chunkz had left behind in the car last week, the one Sharky had picked up and never returned. Too warm. Too big. Too familiar.

He stared at it for a long time, his breath catching.

Then, slowly, his hands reached down, fingers gripping the fabric like it might slip away if he didn't hold tight enough. He clutched it tight, too tight. Pressed it to his chest, his face.

And the scent hit him.

Chunkz.

Not overpowering, just faint. Just enough. A mix of detergent and something woodsy and warm that didn't belong to him but had embedded itself into the seams.

It broke something open. Not a sob. Not yet.

Just the tremble in his breath. The deep, guttural ache that came from knowing he had let something real pass him by again.

He pressed the hoodie tighter against his chest. Like it might keep him from coming apart completely. Like maybe, if he held it long enough, it would hold him back.

But not tonight. He wasn't ready.

He still didn't have the words. Still couldn't face what was shifting inside him. Still wasn't brave enough to say it out loud.

But he also couldn't run forever.

And somewhere, underneath the ache, he knew that.

He could feel it in the weight of the hoodie.

In the warmth that still lingered from the person who had left it behind.

In the silence that no longer felt like protection, but like consequence.

Notes:

Uhm, hopefully this book is almost done--- I'm just finishing drafts by now :)))

Chapter 15: Morning With You

Sharky stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing a hand through his disheveled curls, eyes bleary with sleep. The morning light spilled in through the wide window above the sink-soft and golden, painting long streaks across the floor like nature itself was tiptoeing through the house.

His hoodie, Chunkz's hoodie-hung off one shoulder, rumpled and oversized, the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. It still smelled faintly like last night, and maybe that's why he hadn't taken it off. Or maybe it was because it made him feel protected. Like someone had stayed behind.

He blinked slowly, squinting against the brightness as he padded across the tile, bare feet dragging slightly. His body still felt heavy with emotional hangover-every limb loose, every thought delayed.

Then he froze mid-step.

On the counter, like a small, holy offering, a mug.

Steam curled lazily from the top, catching the sunlight. The smell of coffee-fresh, not reheated-hit him all at once, and for a second he thought he'd imagined it.

He reached for it instinctively, hesitating for half a second as if the cup might vanish when he touched it.

Fingers curled around the ceramic.

Still warm. Still real.

From the corner of the room, a voice spoke, smooth and familiar.

"Figured you needed it after that zombie shuffle last night" Chunkz said.

Sharky's head snapped up, startled.

Chunkz was lounging against the island, one leg casually crossed over the other, his own coffee mug in hand. He was already dressed-hoodie crisp, chain tucked slightly beneath the collar, eyes sharp and amused. Like he'd been up for hours, just waiting for the rest of the world to catch up.

Sharky stared for a beat, blinking dumbly.

"Did you..." Sharky said, his voice cracked on the first word. He cleared his throat and tried again, slower, still wrapped in sleep. 

"Did you make this for me?" Sharky asked.

Chunkz's grin widened slightly-not cocky, just warm. Like the answer should've been obvious.

"Yeah, bro" Chunkz said, tilting his mug in salute. 

"Consider it a peace offering. You looked like you'd been through three time zones and a bad breakup when I saw you last night" Chunkz said.

Sharky let out a surprised laugh-dry, breathy. It slipped out before he could catch it.

He lifted the mug to his lips. It tasted like care-sweetened just enough, cream stirred smooth, exactly how he liked it. He didn't remember ever telling Chunkz that.

The warmth from the drink seeped into his fingers, then his chest. His eyes softened as he glanced toward the window, then back to the man who had made him coffee without asking. The same man who hadn't pressed, hadn't pushed, had simply stayed.

And suddenly, this moment felt full.

Not dramatic. Not loud. Just meaningful.

The smell of coffee. The low hum of the fridge. Sunlight slipping across the counter and Chunkz who's steady, present, and very real.

And maybe it wasn't everything. Maybe it wasn't a confession but it was a beginning.

And that was enough-for now.

Sharky stood still, both hands wrapped tightly around the mug as if it were the only solid thing in the room. The ceramic radiated heat into his palms, grounding him more than he'd expected. He let out a slow breath, the steam curling into his face, his heartbeat easing into the quiet of the kitchen.

Sunlight spilled across the countertops, gilding the room in amber. It caught in the loose threads of his hoodie, glinting against the half-faded lettering. Dust danced in the air like soft static.

He took another sip. Let the warmth settle in his chest.

Then, without looking up, his voice dropped-barely louder than a whisper.

"You're the best" Sharky said.

The words escaped before he could overthink them. Soft. Vulnerable. Honest. They hung there in the quiet, suspended in the golden hush of morning.

Chunkz didn't react right away.

He stood with one shoulder leaning lazily against the kitchen island, cradling his own mug in one hand. At the sound of Sharky's words, he turned his head slightly-not with surprise but something gentler. Something patient.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Nothing flashy. Just real.

He shrugged, like he didn't want to make a big deal out of it-but the way he stayed where he was, the way his eyes lingered on Sharky's face, said everything his words didn't.

He didn't leave.

Instead, he stepped in a little closer. Slow, unhurried. Not closing the distance entirely-but enough to feel the shift.

He raised his mug slightly, tapping it gently against Sharky's in a soft clink-a quiet gesture, like a handshake between two people not quite ready to say the full thing out loud.

"I'm just making sure you're alright" Chunkz said. His voice was low, warm. A reassurance.

And maybe a question, too.

Sharky froze, mug still halfway lifted.

The words hit deeper than they should've. Not because of what was said-but how. The care threaded into them. The way Chunkz was looking at him-open, steady, not demanding anything.

Just there.

Sharky's breath caught.

His mind raced. Thoughts soared. Things he wanted to say piled up behind his teeth like a flood:

I'm not okay.

I didn't sleep last night.

You made coffee for me and I nearly cried.

I think about you too much.

I'm scared all the time.

You're the only one who makes it stop.

But the words didn't come.

His voice stuck.

He looked up, eyes locking with Chunkz's for a moment longer than he meant to. Then he nodded-slow, careful, eyes lowering again.

"I know" Sharky said.

Two words. Quiet. But they carried weight.

Chunkz didn't press.

He just nodded once in return. A simple gesture. An acknowledgment. And maybe-just maybe-relief.

They stood there like that, side by side, mugs warm in their hands. The silence between them had changed-it wasn't avoidance anymore. It wasn't distance.

It was something shared.

A moment of stillness. A pause before whatever came next.

The kind of quiet that wasn't empty, but full-of questions, of gratitude, of things not quite said but understood.

The morning moved slowly around them.

The coffee steamed. The fridge hummed. Somewhere upstairs, the muffled sound of footsteps signaled the others waking up. But in that small corner of the kitchen, time folded in-gentle, still, private.

And in the soft press of morning light, in the fragile peace of those few shared minutes, something shifted.

Not everything.

But enough.

Just enough.

 

////_////_////_////

 

By midmorning, the house had woken into a warm, hazy hum of life. The living room buzzed with the low drone of a youtube video looping on the big TV where Aj's latest upload, something chaotic involving flour, blindfolds, and near-injury. The laughter from last night still lingered in the cushions, the faint smell of toast and reheated takeaway curling in from the kitchen.

Niko and Aj had claimed opposite ends of the couch and were now deep in a debate about zombie apocalypse logistics. Aj, in particular, seemed personally offended by Niko's lack of faith in his survival skills.

"You would absolutely die first" Niko said, leaning forward, index finger pointed like he was delivering a TED Talk. 

"You'd try to live-stream the zombie invasion and get eaten in 4K" Niko said.

"Lie again" Aj shot back, voice climbing in volume. 

"Lie again. I've seen The Walking Dead, I've got strategies bro" Aj said.

"Your strategy is 'hide in a Sainsbury's and cry'" Niko replied.

Kenny let out a wheezing laugh from the floor, halfway through tying his trainers. 

"He's not wrong though" Kenny said.

"Zombies will walk past you cause you have no brain, how about that?" Aj said as he lobbed a sock at him.

The energy in the room was lowkey, but bright. The kind of comfort that only came from years of familiarity, shared rooms, shared jokes, and nothing to prove anymore.

Sharky sat on the other end of the L-shaped couch, legs stretched out, arms folded over his chest. His expression was neutral-smiling occasionally at their banter, throwing in the odd chuckle-but his mind was far, far away.

He wasn't thinking about zombies.

He was thinking about the coffee.

About that quiet moment in the kitchen. The way the mug had felt in his hands. The unspoken understanding between them. The steadiness in Chunkz's eyes.

It hadn't left him. Not really.

Across the room, Chunkz sat opposite him, one leg crossed casually over the other, phone in hand. He was pretending to scroll-flicking absently through something-but his eyes kept flicking upward. Watching Sharky.

His lips twitched now and then, like he was holding back commentary. Like he knew something he wasn't saying.

And maybe he did.

Sharky caught one of those glances-and before he could think better of it, before the usual filter dropped into place, he heard himself say.

"You actually look good today" Sharky said.

The words left his mouth almost too smoothly. No buildup. No disguise. Just there, hanging in the air like a stone tossed into a still pond.

The room fell silent.

Not abruptly-but noticeably.

Niko paused his zombie lecture. Kenny's shoe-tying stopped. Aj blinked at the TV like it had betrayed him.

Across from him, Chunkz looked up slowly.

His eyebrows lifted, but his smirk arrived a split-second later. That cheeky, self-assured grin that he wore like armor. He tilted his head, playing it cool, but his eyes gleamed with a flicker of something that didn't feel like teasing.

"I always look good" Chunkz said, that signature drawl coating every syllable. 

"But go on" Chunkz said playfully.

And just like that-the room erupted.

Kenny launched a pillow across the room, hitting him square in the side. Aj howled with laughter, pounding the couch with both hands. 

"Yep, crazy" Niko muttered under his breath.

Chunkz raised both arms in mock-victory, soaking up the reaction like applause. 

"Finally" Chunkz declared.

"Some respect in this house!" Chunkz added, playfully.

Sharky laughed too. Or at least he tried to.

But his smile faltered quickly, flickering like a bad connection.

Because he hadn't meant it as a joke. Not entirely.

He hadn't meant it as something light to be laughed over and tossed around the room. He'd said it because he meant it. Because when he'd looked at Chunkz just then-sunlight catching in his curls, that easy confidence radiating off him like heat-he'd felt something twist deep in his gut.

Something honest. Something terrifying.

And now it was out in the world. Played for laughs. Nothing serious.

Exactly what he should've wanted.

So why did his chest ache?

Why did the air suddenly feel thinner?

He sank back into the couch, mug in hand, eyes fixed on the TV but not watching it.

The others went back to their banter. The pillow fight resumed but somewhere in the buzz of jokes and zombie plans, Sharky sat quiet.

The guilt burned sharper than the surprise.

Because he hadn't misspoken.

He'd meant it. Just... in a different way.

And he couldn't take it back.

Sharky forced a laugh.

It came out a little too loud, a little too fast-like he was trying to steamroll over the moment before anyone could pin it down.

"Nah" Sharky said quickly, waving a hand like he was swatting away a fly. 

"Let's pretend I didn't say that" Sharky added.

His voice was all surface. All practiced playfulness.

But inside?

Inside, his chest felt like it was tightening around the words, squeezing them into something smaller. Something safer. His heart thudded painfully behind his ribs, still reacting to the way Chunkz had looked at him, the way those words had landed.

Across from him, Chunkz didn't miss a beat.

He leaned back a little, one arm draped over the back of his chair, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in that maddeningly calm, "I know you better than you know yourself "smirk.

"You said it" Chunkz replied, voice smooth as always. 

"You meant it" Chunkz added.

There was no teasing lilt this time.

No exaggerated ego trip. No "Man's finally appreciating the glow-up" performance.

Just steady words, delivered like a truth. Like a small, undeniable thing passed gently across the table.

And Sharky hated how real it sounded.

How real it was.

He looked away instinctively, eyes darting toward the muted TV where a replay of last night's football match rolled by unnoticed. Anything to avoid meeting that gaze. Anything to avoid seeing the thing they were both trying not to name.

His tongue ran across his lips, mouth suddenly dry.

He didn't need to think about it. The answer had been beating against his chest since this morning. Since the coffee. Since the tap of mugs and the closeness and the way he hadn't wanted to walk away.

He exhaled. A slow, careful breath. Then, barely audible.

"Yeah... I did" Sharky said.

It wasn't loud enough for the others to hear. Not meant for them.

Just for Chunkz.

And he didn't push. Didn't needle. Didn't make a scene of it. He just dipped his chin slightly. Like he heard it. Understood it. Stored it away.

And then, they both let it go.

They didn't speak of it again. Didn't elaborate. Didn't even make eye contact for a minute or two. The moment hung in the air-vulnerable, delicate-but neither of them reached to pick it up.

Instead, the tension softened under the easy armor of what they'd always been good at: camaraderie. Banter. Distraction.

Aj was still mid-rant about zombie preparedness. Kenny was busy arguing with Niko about the ethical implications of hiding in IKEA during the apocalypse. Laughter bubbled around them, noise returning to the space like a rising tide.

Sharky sank a little deeper into the couch, his hands gripping the now-lukewarm mug.

His mind replayed what he'd said. What Chunkz had said back. The glint in his eyes. The quiet certainty in his voice.

You said it. 

You meant it.

 

////_////_////_////

 

As the early day unfolded around them, the living room pulsed with low, familiar joy-banter, laughter, the kind that came easy to them, even with eyes half-closed and hair unbrushed. 

It was the sound of a house that had weathered countless nights, countless versions of them sprawled across the same furniture, sharing the same inside jokes, the same leftover cereal, the same warmth that didn't need to be explained.

Aj was practically performing, pacing as he described a theoretical zombie decoy strategy involving a remote-controlled vacuum and a mannequin head. Niko egged him on with increasingly ridiculous counterpoints, and Kenny threw in dramatic gasps from the kitchen like he was watching a soap opera.

The air was alive with movement, with noise, with life.

And yet, Sharky sat in the middle of it all, silent beneath the surface.

The sound washed over him, but inside, he felt the ground shifting. Gently. Subtly. Like tectonic plates moving beneath years of denial.

The coffee.

The weight of that moment in the kitchen hadn't faded. It had settled deep-warming him and rattling him in equal measure. He could still feel the way Chunkz had looked at him, still taste the words he hadn't said. And the mug. God, the mug. How something so simple could feel like a confession wrapped in heat.

The compliment.

It had slipped out so easily. Too easily. And now it looped in his head, not just because he'd said it-but because he'd meant it. And Chunkz had heard it. Had acknowledged it.

Sharky's chest tightened again.

There was a feeling there. Not quite fear. Not quite excitement.

A flutter.

A shift.

Chunkz sat back with his usual effortless calm, scrolling idly through his phone. He chuckled now and then at the ongoing banter, not always adding to it, but always present. Always watching.

Sharky glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

And it hit again-that dizzying, aching truth he kept trying to ignore.

Chunkz didn't know.

Not really.

He didn't know that inside Sharky, a storm had been building all morning. That every word, every laugh, every too-long glance was another pebble in an avalanche he wasn't ready to stop.

Tonight

Maybe tonight.

Maybe, but just maybe, he'd tell him. Risk it. Open that door. Say what's been twisting inside him for too long.

But not yet.

Not while the house still buzzed with life. Not while the others were here, their laughter like a safety net. Not while he could still hide behind routine.

So for now, he stayed still.

Clung to the comfort of the familiar. The jokes. The banter. The couch beneath him. The proximity of someone who didn't yet know they were the epicenter of everything.

And he breathed.

And he hoped.

That maybe, if he let the small moments stack up like bricks and eventually the ache in his chest might smooth out enough to speak.

Notes:

lmao, I'm back. I'm finishing this first before continuing Still Brewing (NikoAj book)

Chapter 16: Fever and Forevers

A few days had passed since the coffee. Since the compliment. Since Sharky had said too much and yet not enough.

And now, here he was.

Cocooned on the living room couch beneath what could only be described as a monument to dramatic suffering. Blankets, no less than five were piled on top of him like the softest avalanche in human history. One draped over his head like a hood. Another was wrapped tightly around his shoulders. The rest had been pulled, yanked, and tucked into a fortress of fleece and heat.

Only his nose and eyes peeked out, red, slightly swollen, and very much milking it for effect.

"I'm actually dying, man" Sharky groaned.

His voice sounded like it had been dragged through gravel, and he punctuated the statement with an exaggerated sniffle that made the entire couch vibrate.

Across from him, Chunkz stood with a bowl of steaming soup in hand carefully balanced, fragrant, the kind of homemade comfort that could revive the dead or at the very least, humble a melodramatic twenty-something.

He looked at Sharky with a mixture of amusement and fond disbelief.

"You've got a cold" Chunkz said dryly, stepping closer. 

"Not the plague" Chunkz added.

Sharky burrowed further into the blankets like a wounded animal. 

"Still feels like the end for me" Sharky muttered. 

He tilted his head to give Chunkz the most pitiful look he could muster with eyes wide and glistening, bottom lip just barely poking out. 

"Tell my story" Sharky said.

Chunkz snorted. 

"I'll tell people you were brave" Chunkz said, sarcastically.

He crouched down beside the couch and gently placed the bowl of soup on the table in front of Sharky. The steam curled up like smoke signals between them. Chicken, garlic, noodles that Chunkz had made it himself, Sharky could tell. 

It had that uneven seasoning, that "don't-measure-anything, just-vibe" quality yet it tastes amazing that only came from someone who actually cared.

"You didn't even touch the medicine I gave you, did you?" Chunkz asked, already knowing the answer.

Sharky made a small noise somewhere between a grunt and a groan and turned his face deeper into the fold of a blanket. Which, in boy flu terms, was a confession.

Chunkz exhaled through his nose. Not irritated. Just done.

From the table, he grabbed the cold medicine box, popped two gel capsules from the foil, and held them out.

Sharky peeked out from under the blanket like a reluctant goblin. 

"I don't need--" Sharky was cut off.

"Take. Them" Chunkz simply said.

The authority in Chunkz's voice was absolute. Parental. Unbending.

Sharky blinked, momentarily stunned by the tone. Then he grumbled like a cartoon villain defeated by soup and medication, reached out a hand, and snatched the pills. He took them with a dramatic sigh and an even more theatrical swallow of water.

"Happy?" Sharky rasped, the word catching like sandpaper in his throat.

Chunkz didn't answer.

Instead, he leaned in a little closer, his face growing serious as he extended his hand.

And then gently, without hesitation he pressed the back of his knuckles to Sharky's forehead.

It wasn't dramatic. Wasn't showy.

Just a check. A touch. A gesture.

But it lit something inside Sharky that had absolutely nothing to do with body temperature.

His breath caught. His body froze.

Because that touch, that light, warm, so impossibly gentle set something off in his gut. A flicker of fire. Not illness. Not discomfort.

Something else.

Something dangerous.

His skin prickled under the contact, his senses tunneling in on that one point where Chunkz's hand met his forehead. Where the care in the touch overpowered the humor in the moment.

Chunkz lingered there for a second, brow furrowing slightly as he concentrated.

Then he pulled away just as gently.

"You're still burning up" Chunkz said.

The words were simple but they hit differently.

They landed with weight. With warmth.

And Sharky didn't know what to do with that.

He didn't know how to sit with the way his chest felt suddenly full. Or how his eyes lingered on Chunkz's hand as it lowered back to his side. Or how much he wanted, needed that touch to stay.

So he did what he always did when it got too close.

He forced a smirk.

"Guess I'm just too hot to handle" Sharky said.

Chunkz rolled his eyes and shook his head. But he smiled. Not the big, show-off grin. A smaller one. Private.

"You're ridiculous" Chunkz said softly.

Sharky didn't reply.

Because beneath the blankets, his heart was racing. And for once, it had nothing to do with fever.

Before Sharky could react, before he could even finish his grumble about the medicine. The second wave of the Chunkz Caregiving Routine kicked off in full force.

Chunkz moved with efficiency, tugging one corner up, smoothing another down, tucking it gently around Sharky's sides like he was swaddling a particularly grumpy burrito. 

Every motion was careful but practiced, as if he'd done this before. As if he'd memorized how Sharky liked to lie when he was sick.

"bro" Sharky muttered, his voice a dry rasp, thick with cold and something else. 

"I can do that myself" Sharky said.

But even as the words left his mouth, his cheeks betrayed him, going pink, a soft flush blooming along the tops like heat rising beneath his skin.

It wasn't from the fever.

It was from the tenderness.

From the way Chunkz fussed without hesitation. Without teasing. Like taking care of him wasn't a burden but a privilege. Like Sharky was his entire world in that moment and the soup and the medicine and the tucking of blankets was just how he expressed it.

Chunkz didn't respond to the protest. He didn't argue. He didn't even slow down.

He just sat down beside him, their hips brushing faintly through the blankets, his weight settling into the couch with a soft creak of cushions. Then without asking, he reached out again, his palm gliding up behind Sharky's neck, fingers spreading lightly as he checked his temperature once more.

Sharky tensed.

Not because it was uncomfortable but because it wasn't.

Chunkz was close now. Too close. Camera-close. Breath-close. The kind of close where Sharky could smell the faint citrus on his skin, see the tiny indentation at the corner of his mouth when he smiled. The kind of close that made Sharky's heart thump hard in his chest, tight with something that felt an awful lot like panic and want.

His shoulders brushed Chunkz's. His skin buzzed beneath the touch. His throat tightened as if the cold medicine had gotten stuck halfway down.

Chunkz let out a quiet laugh, a warm chuckle that vibrated between them.

"You act like I'm torturing you" Chunkz said lightly, not pulling his hand away just yet.

"Torture" Sharky thought.

No. This wasn't torture. This was the opposite.

This was care. This was comfort. This was the exact thing Sharky had secretly, selfishly wanted and hadn't known how to ask for.

But because his brain was still wired for deflection, still stuck in survival mode, still terrified of being seen, he forced out a crooked smirk.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever" Sharky said.

It didn't carry any weight. Not really.

Chunkz saw through it, of course he did but he didn't call him out. He didn't retreat. He just smiled, softer now, with a warmth that Sharky could feel even after the hand slipped from the back of his neck.

He reached forward, picked up the soup bowl, and held it out.

"Just shut up and drink your soup, man" Chunkz murmured.

And Sharky did.

Because Chunkz told him to. Because the soup was warm. Because the air was full of unspoken things he didn't know how to answer.

Because in that moment, with Chunkz beside him and the blankets wrapped tight and his skin still tingling from a hand that lingered just a beat too long and he couldn't think of a single reason not to.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The cold hadn't come out of nowhere. It had been earned like a dumb trophy after a reckless marathon.

The weekend had started with plans for a "chill reset" a low-stress recharge of energy. But in true Beta Squad fashion "chill" had mutated into chaos in under twenty minutes.

There had been snacks. So many snacks. Open bags of crisps layered like geological strata across the living room table. Packs of gummy worms emptied in an hour. Sodas cracked open back-to-back until the recycling bin looked like a carbonated graveyard. And pizza,3 AM pizza ordered with delirious conviction and consumed like it was victory food after a battle no one had won.

The console stayed on for two full nights. Laughter boomed through the house. Sharky had been at the center of it all, headset slung around his neck, trash-talking the others with raspy bravado as he powered through round after round.

By the second night, he'd felt the telltale scratch in his throat, just a little dry, he'd told himself. No big deal. But he still poured another soda. Still stayed up. Still laughed too hard at Aj trying to jump-scare Kenny and nearly pulling a muscle in the process.

He chased wins.

He ignored the burn in his sinuses. He powered through the lightheadedness. He buried the tickle in his throat under a layer of pride and sugary bravado.

By the time morning hit, it had caught up with him.

Hard.

His voice was a whisper dragged through gravel. His head felt like it was full of cotton and static. His body, usually buzzing with energy, now moved like it was underwater.

Still, stubborn as hell, Sharky showed up.

The squad was scheduled to shoot that afternoon, a quick bit, something fun, something light. Easy laughs. No heavy lifting.

Sharky grinned like normal. Made his jokes. Ribbed Chunkz on camera but every time he tried to speak louder than a whisper, his voice betrayed him. A crack. A squeak. A dry rasp that made Aj look over, concerned.

He waved them all off. Took a long swig from a water bottle and powered through the next line.

But Chunkz was watching.

Not laughing. Not chiming in. Watching.

And when Sharky's voice broke mid-sentence, just collapsed into nothing like a mic shorting out and Chunkz didn't let it slide.

"Okay, that's enough" Chunkz said sharply, stepping in front of the camera.

"We're done. You're not doing this like that" Chunkz added.

Sharky blinked. 

"It's-- I'm fine--" Sharky tried to reason.

"You're not" Chunkz snapped. But it wasn't cruel. It wasn't harsh.

It was final. Protective.

"He's going home. He's sick. Wrap it" Chunkz said as he turned to the crew.

The camera stopped rolling. Niko raised his hands in surrender. Aj threw a thumbs-up.

And Sharky, now sweaty, sniffling, and throat on fire finally dropped the act.

He didn't argue again.

Because the moment Chunkz placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him toward the exit, Sharky's defenses crumbled.

That hand stayed there the whole walk to the front. Not gripping. Just present. Grounding.

Comforting words floated through the haze of congestion and embarrassment, murmured reassurances, gentle teasing, something about tea and tissues and "don't act like this is a war injury"

Sharky barely heard them.

Because his ears buzzed. His eyes stung. His body swayed with fatigue. But deeper than the cold, deeper than the discomfort, something else flared.

Not in his throat. Not in his chest but somewhere more internal. Something hot. Something frighteningly tender.

When the cab door opened, he climbed in without protest.

Chunkz crouched down at the door, looking him over one last time. 

"I'll text you when I get back. Sleep. Drink water. Don't be stubborn" Chunkz said.

And then, one more time his hand touched Sharky's shoulder.

Just briefly. A squeeze. And Sharky shivered.

Not from the cold but from the way that touch settled too easily into him. From the realization that his pulse had jumped not from fever, but from something warm and painful and impossible to name.

Something he was starting to understand but still couldn't say.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Now, swaddled on the couch like a slightly feverish caterpillar, Sharky lay still beneath the fortress of blankets, only his eyes visible, blinking up at the ceiling as the muffled sounds of a midday TV show played somewhere in the background.

The weight of the blankets should've felt suffocating.

But they didn't.

They felt like protection. Like pressure. Like something that kept him from floating off entirely.

And what unsettled him most wasn't the cold. It wasn't the congestion or the pounding behind his eyes or the raw sting in his throat.

It was how much he didn't hate any of this.

He hated needing people. Hated being looked after. Hated the spotlight turning onto his weakness like it was worth recording.

And yet, the image of Chunkz in the kitchen played again and again in his mind like a silent film reel.

Chunkz stirring soup with one hand while texting with the other. Chunkz carefully checking the water temp before handing Sharky the cup. Chunkz pulling the blanket higher over his shoulders when he'd started to shiver. 

Chunkz crouched down beside the couch, not flinching away from the mess of it all, the bleary eyes, the cracked voice, the vulnerability Sharky could barely contain.

It kept replaying in Sharky's head, the softness in his movements. The easy steadiness. The casual way he offered care like it wasn't a question, like it was obvious.

He'd said nothing dramatic. No "you mean a lot to me" No "I've got you, no matter what" He didn't need to.

Every time he adjusted a pillow, or handed over a mug, or sat silently beside Sharky just being there, it said more than any of those things could've.

And Sharky hated that.

Not because it was wrong but because it was right. Too right.

Each small gesture chipped away at something sharp inside him, something he'd worked hard to keep fortified. That constant need to be strong, to be self-contained, to laugh it off, keep moving, stay untouchable.

But here he was.

Sick. Sniffling. Curled up and slowly unraveling with every bowl of soup.

And as the days dragged on, blurred between naps, bad TV, and the scent of eucalyptus from the rub Chunkz insisted on dabbing on his chest, Sharky started to feel something unspoken take root.

This closeness. This dependency.

It was uncomfortable. Awkward. Exposing.

And yet, it was also something else.

It was needed.

Agonizing and necessary. Warm and terrifying. Like someone was holding his hand through a glass wall and he couldn't tell whether he wanted to break through or stay where it was safe.

He stared up at the ceiling, throat tight for reasons that had nothing to do with mucus.

Why does this feel so... right? he thought.

He didn't have the answer.

All he knew was that every time Chunkz walked back into the room, every time his voice echoed softly. "You alright?" or "I brought more tissues" or "Move over, I'm watching this with you" Sharky's heart squeezed.

And he didn't hate it.

Not even a little.

Every time Chunkz stepped into the room, Sharky felt his chest twist tighter.

It wasn't dramatic, Chunkz didn't make an entrance. He never had to. He just appeared with quiet steps, soft voice, sleeves pushed up, worry gently blooming between his brows. Sometimes he carried a mug. Sometimes just a folded blanket. Sometimes nothing at all but the steadiness of his presence.

But each time he entered, something shifted inside Sharky. Something subtle, terrifying, familiar.

There was relief, yes. A warmth that moved through him like steam from a fresh cup. Fragrant. Unmistakable. Comforting.

But there was also tension. A string pulled too tight beneath his ribs.

It coiled in his gut, buzzed behind his ears, made the hairs on his arms lift even under all the fleece. And it wasn't just the fever. It was the unspoken, what had been building between them in the quiet, in the looks that lingered too long, in the compliments that weren't jokes, in the coffee, in the silence.

Why now?  

He kept asking himself.

Why was this happening now, when things had already shifted? When his feelings, once clean and safe in the box labeled "friendship" had started slipping through the cracks? When everything between them hummed with the electricity of things unsaid?

Sharky couldn't unpack it.

He couldn't make sense of how his stomach flipped every time Chunkz sat down on the couch beside him, just close enough for their knees to touch. How his body relaxed under the attention even as his heart raced like it was trying to run from something inevitable.

He couldn't stop it.

Couldn't stop leaning into it.

By the time the sky began to dim and the evening settled in with a hush, blanketing the house with soft shadows and the scent of reheated soup and Sharky's fever had spiked again. Sweat clung to his collar. His head throbbed in rhythm with his pulse.

And still, he didn't want the care to end.

He hated how much he didn't want it to.

It was pathetic, wasn't it? Needing this. Wanting to be looked after. Craving the way Chunkz gently adjusted the blanket at his shoulders or tilted the soup spoon toward his mouth with mock-serious focus.

It was absurd, how his worst day, his weakest, most pitiful, unguarded day was starting to feel like his best.

Because Chunkz was there.

Because Chunkz wanted to be there.

And that, that was the part that shattered something inside Sharky.

He chose this. He chose me. Even like this. Even now.

Sharky shut his eyes against the sting behind them. His face flushed with more than fever as the thought drifted in, unwelcome and all-consuming:

You don't deserve this.

You don't deserve him.

Not his attention.

Not his patience.

Not the kindness folded into every quiet thing he did.

He turned his face deeper into the pillow, tried to disappear into the cushions, into the warmth, into the ache.

Then, knock-knock.

Soft. From the hallway. A gentle rhythm. Familiar.

Sharky's eyes opened slowly.

It was him. Again. Of course it was.

Chunkz didn't wait for a response. He never had to. The door creaked open just enough to let his voice in.

"You still alive in there?" Chunkz asked, a smile folded neatly into the words.

And just like that, Sharky felt it again.

The ache. The pull. The truth. It lived somewhere deep in his chest now, impossible to ignore.

Even sick. Even fevered. Even sweating through a hoodie in a blanket pile, Sharky knew that he didn't want anyone else beside him. Not now. Not ever.

 

////_////_////_////

 

It was well past midnight.

The house had fallen into that particular kind of quiet only possible after a day full of noise, where everything felt slightly muffled, slightly sacred. The hum of the fridge in the kitchen was the only sound beyond the occasional creak of the heating system kicking in. Outside, the streetlights painted long, soft stripes across the living room walls.

Sharky hadn't moved in an hour.

Still wrapped in his nest of blankets, half-asleep, eyes glazed over as an old sitcom played muted reruns on the TV. His fever had settled but hadn't left. His skin was warm, his breath shallow, and he felt like one heavy exhale would tip him into dreamless sleep.

But then, a creak of the stairs.

A door, light footsteps.

And then Chunkz.

He strolled in casually, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, a bowl of dry cereal in one, spoon dangling in the other, posture way too energetic for this hour.

Sharky groaned without opening his eyes. 

"Why are you here" Sharky said.

Chunkz didn't even pause. He walked straight past the couch and plopped down on the opposite end like it was his blanket fortress.

"This is my house too, you know" Chunkz replied, shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. 

"Unless you've suddenly started paying rent for the whole thing" Chunkz added.

"I might if I live through this tragic illness" Sharky mumbled.

"You have a cold" Chunkz said.

"I have suffered" Sharky said.

Chunkz laughed under his breath, chewing slowly. 

"Can't believe you're still doing the deathbed performance" Chunkz said.

"I deserve an Oscar for this" Sharky said with a weak smile.

"You deserve antibiotics and a slap, you jokeman" Chunkz said.

Sharky opened one eye and narrowed it at him.

"Why are you eating cereal at 1 AM?" Sharky asked. 

"Comfort cereal" Chunkz said between crunches. 

"Night vibes. Vibes cereal" Chunkz added.

"That's not a thing" Sharky said.

"It is now" Chunkz declared, raising the bowl dramatically like he was toasting the moon.

Sharky let out a tired, raspy laugh and immediately coughed. He reached for the tissue box beside him.

"Don't make me laugh" Sharky wheezed.

"So sensitive" Chunkz said mockingly, pulling the blanket off Sharky's foot and flicking it. 

"You need a joke doctor" Chunkz added.

"I need you to shut up" Sharky said.

"But then who would keep you company?" Chunkz said.

Sharky gave him a long, unimpressed look.

Chunkz grinned wider and leaned back, stealing a corner of Sharky's blanket and tucking it over his own legs.

Sharky narrowed his eyes. 

"Bro" Sharky said.

"What?" Chunkz asked.

"You're actually the worst" Sharky said.

Chunkz smiled. 

"Yeah" Chunkz said softly.

"But I'm the worst who brought you soup and forced you to take meds" Chunkz added.

"Unfortunately" Sharky said.

"And I'm also the worst who's not going anywhere, even when you're a grumpy little sniff goblin" Chunkz said.

There was a pause.

Sharky looked away. Smiled to himself, faintly. Sank deeper into the blanket.

"...Sniff goblin?" Sharky asked.

"It's gonna catch on" Chunkz said.

"It really, really won't" Sharky said.

They sat there for a long moment. The TV flickered faintly. Outside, a car passed, tires whispering along the damp street. Chunkz's cereal crunched softly beside him.

And for all the fever, all the aches, all the embarrassment and the questions Sharky couldn't untangle. There was this. Just this. Warmth. Soft mockery. Unspoken care.

Sharky didn't say anything else.

He just let his eyes close.

And when his head tilted slightly, shoulder brushing against Chunkz's, he didn't move away.

Notes:

Hello lovelies!!! This is a long one to make up for the short chapters so... yeah.

love though :))

Chapter 17: One Day Too Long

Chunkz didn't hesitate.

He never did, really, not when it mattered.

He showed up at Sharky's bedroom door without warning, a plastic bag dangling from one hand and a hot container of soup in the other, steam curling from the lid like it was trying to announce his arrival before he even spoke.

He knocked once, not waiting for a reply and nudged the door open with his foot, stepping inside with that unmistakable "don't even argue" expression that made Sharky's stomach knot in ways he didn't want to examine.

Chunkz barely crossed the threshold before his eyes narrowed.

"You look like death, bro" Chunkz said flatly.

His tone wasn't cruel. It wasn't dramatic. Just blunt in that way he reserved only for Sharky. The way that meant he was worried but too cool to admit it outright.

"I'm fine--" Sharky said, his voice rough as he tried to wave him off.

Chunkz's gaze cut to him sharply.

Not a glare. Not quite. Just a look so unimpressed, so piercing, that it froze Sharky's excuse mid-air. The words shriveled in his throat before he could finish them.

He swallowed. Muted. Then, with a groan of resignation, curled back under the duvet like a kid who'd just been told off by a parent he secretly adored.

Chunkz stepped further into the room.

He set the soup down on the bedside table, pulled the medicine bottle out of the bag, unscrewed the cap, poured exactly the right dosage into the tiny plastic cup it came with, and handed it to Sharky like it was all muscle memory.

"Drink" Chunkz said simply.

Sharky looked at the medicine, then at Chunkz.

"You're not my--" Sharky tried to argue.

"Drink" Chunkz cuts in.

The authority was comically gentle.

Grumbling, Sharky downed it.

And so began the full rollout of Caretaker-in-Chief Chunkz.

Water refilled and placed on the bedside table without asking. Soup stirred and cooled to just the right temperature before being handed over with a spoon and a look that said "I will feed you myself if I have to"

Tissues stacked within arm's reach. Phone charger plugged in and placed beside the pillow. Pillows fluffed. Curtains drawn.

And then, the final indignity, Chunkz, moving with casual ease, lifting the soft grey blanket from the back of the chair and draping it gently over Sharky's shoulders.

"Don't act like you're not cold" Chunkz muttered, smoothing it out without looking directly at him.

Sharky scoffed inwardly.

He wanted to say something. Anything. A dig. A joke. A bro, you're being dramatic.

But instead, he stayed quiet.

Because the truth?

He didn't mind.

Not even a little.

The attention, the care, the way Chunkz moved through the room like it wasn't even a question that he'd be there, looking after him and Sharky soaked it up like sunlight through glass.

He wasn't used to this. Not really. Not in this way.

And even as he pretended to roll his eyes when Chunkz adjusted the blanket again, he secretly leaned into it.

He shifted an inch closer to the warmth. He let his eyes close for a moment longer. He let himself feel it.

The quiet comfort. The unspoken concern. The closeness.

He'd never admit it aloud but in that moment, tucked in like a burrito with medicine in his system and soup waiting on the nightstand, Sharky didn't feel sick.

He felt safe.

And that, more than anything, terrified him.

 

////_////_////_////

 

By morning, Sharky's phone buzzed to life like it was part of his pulse.

The group chat was quiet, but Chunkz's texts weren't.

"You eaten yet?"

A minute later.

"Don't lie, Sharky"

And then, the inevitable.

"I'm bringing food. Don't argue"

Sharky stared at the screen for a long moment, blinking through the fog of a half-healed cold and sleep still clinging to his bones. His throat still ached faintly, and his body moved like it was underwater, but the one thing that hit him clearly sharper than pain, stronger than fatigue was the sense of being seen.

He didn't reply.

He didn't need to.

By evening, true to his word, Chunkz was there again, door nudged open with a hip, takeaway bag in one hand, drink in the other. No fanfare. No questions. Just presence.

And now, the two of them sat side by side on the couch, the soft glow of the TV flickering across their faces. An old movie played in the background, some random action flick neither of them were really watching. The volume was low, the house quiet, the light outside slipping toward navy.

Sharky leaned back into the cushions, wrapped in a hoodie and the last surviving blanket from his fortress, arms folded loosely across his stomach. His fever had broken. He wasn't sweating anymore. But the tightness in his chest hadn't left. Not entirely.

Beside him, Chunkz sipped his drink, one hand resting casually on the side of his knee. His body language was relaxed, open, easy.

The kind of ease that came from knowing someone too well.

Sharky glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

The heat that bloomed in his chest had nothing to do with the cold anymore.

And before he could stop himself, before the filter dropped in again.

"You always do this" Sharky said.

The words slipped out like breath. Quiet. Almost swallowed by the sound of a distant car passing outside.

Chunkz turned his head slightly, not looking annoyed or confused, just curious.

"Do what?" Chunkz asked.

Sharky's throat tightened immediately. The words that had been rising, how Chunkz always checked on him, brought food without asking, made him feel safe in a way he couldn't explain and it caught like thorns behind his teeth.

He almost said it.

Almost.

But then, his chest clenched. He blinked. And shoved it all behind a shrug.

"Nothing" Sharky said.

A beat passed.

Chunkz watched him.

Just for a second. Not probing. Not challenging. Just looking. Really looking.

Then, slowly, his lips twitched upward.

A soft smile. Subtle. Understanding. He didn't push.

He never did.

"Cool" Chunkz said, turning back toward the screen, voice light. 

"But for the record, I'm still finishing your fries" Chunkz added.

Sharky huffed a small laugh, grateful and gutted all at once. 

"You always do that too" Sharky said.

Chunkz grinned wider. 

"Consistency. It's what I bring to the table" Chunkz said.

And just like that, the tension folded itself back into the silence. The soft, familiar, safe kind.

And Sharky stayed where he was.

Still half-sick. Still a little scared but with Chunkz beside him, stealing his food and holding all his unspoken feelings without even trying, it didn't feel quite so heavy.

 

////_////_////_////

 

It was late again. The kind of late where time blurred around the edges, hen the TV light felt softer, the air stiller, and the space between words carried more weight than the words themselves.

Sharky was curled on the far end of the couch, blanket tossed haphazardly over his lap like he didn't really need it, even though his toes were stiff with cold and his fingers curled tighter than he meant them to. He hunched into himself, trying to look casual, like someone who wasn't freezing and definitely didn't care.

But Chunkz saw through it in seconds.

From the other side of the room, where he was digging through the snack drawer for the third time that night, he paused.

Turned. Squinted.

"You're cold" Chunkz said.

"Nah, I'm good" Sharky said without even looking up.  

Chunkz raised a brow.

"You're shivering" Chunkz pointed out.

"Not shivering. Just... twitching attractively" Sharky said.

Chunkz snorted.

He tugged at the hem of his hoodie, his favorite one, the faded grey one with the tiny bleach stain near the wrist that Sharky had always quietly liked and pulled it off with one clean motion.

Then, without ceremony, he walked back over and tossed it, a soft arc through the air onto Sharky's chest.

It landed like a warm promise.

"Put it on" Chunkz said, like it wasn't a question.

Sharky blinked down at it.

The hoodie looked huge. It smelled like clean laundry and deodorant and something else, something that was just Chunkz. A scent that made his throat tighten slightly for reasons he didn't want to unpack right now.

"I'm fine" Sharky tried again, gripping the fabric like it might convince him to stay strong.

Chunkz didn't budge. He crossed his arms and gave him a look. The kind that spoke of every time Sharky had faked wellness and failed miserably. The kind that said, You're not fooling me, and you never have.

Sharky groaned under his breath. 

"You're so dramatic" Sharky said.

"And you're so cold" Chunkz shot back.

A beat passed.

Then silently, grumbling to himself, Sharky tugged the hoodie over his head.

It swallowed him whole. The second it settled against his skin, the warmth wrapped around him like a full-body exhale. He melted into it, just a little. Chunkz's smirk was immediate.

"After all that complaining?" Chunkz teased, sinking back into his seat, arms behind his head like he'd just won a bet.

Sharky curled tighter into the hoodie, hiding half his face in the collar. 

"Shut up" Sharky muttered.

But inside? His heart was doing backflips.

Because the hoodie felt like him. Like everything Chunkz never said but always showed.

And in the quiet that followed, Sharky didn't argue. Didn't speak. Just sat there, letting the fabric warm him, letting the silence sit between them like something delicate and shared.

And every so often, he'd catch Chunkz looking over, just for a second, just with that little upward tilt at the corner of his mouth.

And Sharky?

He let himself smile too.

Just a little.

Just enough.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Days passed.

Not in dramatic turns, but in small, soft rhythms. Predictable ones.

A knock at the door. A "yo" from the hallway. Chunkz's voice breaking the quiet just before Sharky remembered he hadn't eaten.

First came soup, always homemade, never bland, somehow just right.

Then came hydration checks, "You haven't touched this water bottle, have you?" followed by the most judgmental sip Sharky had ever been guilted into.

Then the reminders, casual but constant.

"Take the meds now"

"Rest, don't scroll"

"You're not fine-- don't argue"

And it wasn't long before Sharky began to expect it.

The sound of Chunkz's footsteps.

The way he'd nudge open the door with his shoulder.

The faint scent of whatever was cooking, drifting in just before the man himself arrived.

The stupid grin. The easy warmth. The touch on the shoulder that lingered a second longer than it needed to.

Sharky didn't admit it, not even to himself, but he started waiting for it.

He'd glance at the clock, check the street outside, scroll his phone with half an eye on the door. When he heard footsteps on the stairs, he'd sit up straighter, only to hide the disappointment if they passed his room.

It became part of his routine, this care, this comfort, this presence.

But then one evening.

Nothing.

No knock. 

No text.

No soup.

The silence was immediate and foreign. Like a room missing its furniture. Sharky checked his phone twice, then three more times, each time slower, like maybe the notification had just taken a while to arrive.

But the last message still sat there, unchanged.

"I'm bringing food. Don't argue "

Sent yesterday.

He stared at it too long.

Then locked the phone, dropped it on the bed, and told himself

He's busy. It's fine. Don't be weird.

Still, something pressed in around the edges of his chest. Not pain. Not panic. Just a kind of tightening.

The kind of feeling you got when you realized you'd reached for something and found it missing.

An hour passed.

Two.

The movie Sharky had put on for background noise ended without him noticing a single scene.

The silence didn't feel cozy anymore. It felt loud.

Buzzing. Restless.

He got up. Pacing. First casually, then pointlessly. His socks dragged against the floor as he crossed from couch to kitchen, back again, as if walking would make the space feel less empty.

He opened the fridge, closed it. Made tea, didn't drink it.

His phone lit up again, group chat memes. He didn't reply. He tapped Chunkz's name. Hovered over it. Locked it again.

Is he avoiding me?

Did I mess up?

Did I say too much?

The thoughts came faster than he could stop them.

The coffee. The hoodie. The near-confession.

Had he crossed a line?

Had Chunkz noticed the way he'd leaned in too long last night? 

Had he sensed the meaning behind the "you always do this" moment on the couch?

Was that too much? 

Was I too much?

Sharky sat down, hard, the sofa cushions barely making a sound under his weight.

He buried his face in his hands. Rubbed at his eyes like it might scrub away the ache growing beneath them.

And then, just like that, it hit him.

He needed this.

Not just the food. Not just the care.

Him.

He needed Chunkz.

He'd grown used to the way he hovered near. The way he noticed things no one else did. The way he always showed up, even without being asked.

And now that he wasn't there, now that the spot beside him on the couch was cold and unclaimed, now that no one was checking if he'd eaten.

Sharky felt lost.

He didn't know when it had happened.

When kindness had turned into comfort.

When presence had turned into dependence.

When wanting had turned into needing.

But he felt it now.

Clear as ever.

And the scariest part wasn't the silence.

It was how much he missed him in it.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Sharky knew he was being stupid.

Insecure. Overdramatic. Paranoid, even.

He knew it.

But knowing didn't make the ache in his chest feel any smaller.

He'd curled into the corner of the couch hours ago, limbs folded close, wrapped tight in the hoodie Chunkz had thrown at him just a few days earlier, put it on, he'd said. And Sharky had. He hadn't taken it off since.

Now it hung loosely over him, sleeves too long, hood bunched at the back of his neck. It still smelled faintly like him, though the scent was fading, replaced by Sharky's own restlessness. And the familiarity, the warmth wasn't enough.

His phone lay on the table in front of him, face down, the last text from Chunkz still stuck in his memory like a phantom limb.

No new messages.

No calls.

No knock at the door.

The clock on the wall blinked quietly past midnight, and Sharky couldn't remember when he last heard a voice that wasn't his own. The TV flickered in front of him with its volume set too low to follow, just shapes and noise meant to distract him.

It wasn't working.

He hugged his knees tighter, one hand clutching at the hoodie fabric near his chest like it might offer something deeper than warmth.

And then the thoughts started circling.

Slow at first. Then fast. Faster.

Why hasn't he messaged?

Why did today feel different?

Why does this feel like punishment? Like distance? Like rejection?

The more he tried to slow them, the more they spun out of control.

Is he pulling away? 

Did I say something wrong? Did I cross a line?

Did I make it obvious? 

Did he finally notice what I've been trying not to admit?

The hoodie's weight pressed heavier across his shoulders, no longer comforting, just present.

Just a reminder.

A reminder of Chunkz's hands tucking the blanket up to his chin. Of Chunkz sitting beside him, watching him silently. Of how his voice always softened when Sharky was too tired to pretend he was fine.

And now, all that was gone.

No footsteps.

No soup.

No snide comment followed by a soft smile.

Just silence.

Just space.

And it hurt.

Not in the way the cold had hurt. Not the scratch of his throat or the heat behind his eyes.

This was something else.

Something deeper.

Like a hole had opened inside his chest and was quietly, patiently hollowing him out from the inside.

Why does this feel like abandonment?

Why does it hurt like this?

Sharky let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and dropped his head to his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut against the prickle there.

He wasn't angry. He wasn't even sure he was sad.

He just felt... lost.

And the worst part?

He knew exactly what would make it better.

Not meds. Not rest.

Just one knock on the door.

Just one "yo, you alive?"

Just one look. One smile. One presence he could anchor to.

But it didn't come.

And the hoodie wasn't enough.

Not tonight.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The sun had barely lifted above the rooftops when Chunkz rolled onto set.

Hair brushed. Hoodie layered. Smile ready. His voice already tuned to that casual hype tone everyone expected, just enough edge to be funny, just enough calm to feel cool. He greeted the crew, dabbed up the producer, joked with the assistant who handed him the schedule.

It wasn't a major gig, just a podcast guest spot and a quick branded tiktok collab. Easy. The kind of thing he could do in his sleep. His calendar had been filling up with these little things lately, the in-between jobs that somehow ate entire days.

Still, it felt good to be working. Efficient. Productive. Kept the energy high. Kept his mind off the wrong things.

The studio lights were blinding. The jokes were flowing. He played off his co-host like a pro, hit his marks, grinned wide into the mic.

Chunkz was doing his thing on fire, smooth, effortless.

Until they took a break to reset the lights. Someone handed him water. He stepped off the little platform and leaned against the wall, shaking out his arms, giving himself a second to breathe.

That's when he pulled out his phone.

Not consciously. Just muscle memory.

Screen lit up.

Nothing.

No new messages. No notifications. No one @-ing him in the group chat. Just a clear home screen and the last message he'd sent still unread.

"I'm bringing food. Don't argue"

That was over a day ago now.

His thumb hovered over Sharky's name.

He hadn't messaged him all morning.

Hadn't checked in. Hadn't popped in after the shoot. Hadn't asked how he was feeling, if he'd eaten, if he needed anything. No soup. No hoodie-adjusting. No watching from the doorway while Sharky grumbled about "not needing a babysitter"

That was... weird.

Unusual.

Because over the past week, it had become second nature.

Ever since Sharky caught that cold, since he looked like death curled up on the couch in that giant pile of blankets, Chunkz had stepped in like it was his job. Not in some big dramatic way. Just... naturally.

That's what you do when your best mate's sick. You show up. You check in. You buy soup without asking what kind. You give them the hoodie off your back and pretend it's no big deal.

Right?

It wasn't something Chunkz thought about. It just happened.

But today?

He'd let the morning go by. Told himself he was busy. That Sharky was probably resting. Probably needed space. Probably sick of being hovered over like someone's nan.

He typed.

"How you feeling today?"

Stared at it.

Paused.

Then deleted it.

He didn't know why.

Maybe he didn't want to come off clingy. Maybe he didn't want to seem overbearing. Maybe he didn't want to admit that all morning, in between podcast jokes and ad reads, he'd been distracted.

By that silence.

By that hoodie.

By the way Sharky had been lately, quieter, sharper, watching him like there was something he wanted to say but couldn't. Like he was waiting for Chunkz to say it first.

And truthfully? That scared him.

Not because he didn't care.

But because he did. Too much.

Because something had shifted slowly, quietly between them. It had crept in under the blankets, in the bowl of soup, in the soft way Sharky said "shut up" when he meant "thank you"

Chunkz couldn't name it yet. Didn't want to.

So instead of texting back, he locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket.

Then he stepped back into the studio, laughed on cue, nailed the next take, and kept telling himself.

It's just one day.

One day off. It doesn't mean anything.

Right?

But the truth tugged at the back of his mind, stubborn and quiet.

If it didn't mean anything...

Why did it feel like something had just gone missing?

 

////_////_////_////

 

The first hour was easy.

Sort of.

Sharky sat on the couch with his blanket pulled up to his chin and told himself he didn't need a text. Didn't need a knock on the door. Didn't need to hear Chunkz's voice asking if he'd eaten, or if he was still breathing, or if he'd taken the damn paracetamol yet.

It was one day.

Not weird. Not unusual. People were busy. Life happened. They weren't joined at the hip.

They were just friends.

Really good friends. Friends who bantered. Friends who wore each other's clothes. Friends who made soup for each other and tucked each other in when one was sick and stayed too long in the doorway, lingering on goodbyes they didn't say out loud.

That kind of friend.

Sharky turned the volume up on the TV. Some sitcom rerun played, loud laugh tracks, fast dialogue but the words didn't land. They slipped past him, like background noise.

He picked up his phone out of habit.

Nothing.

Hour two felt quieter.

The blanket wasn't doing its job anymore, and Sharky couldn't decide if he was hot or cold. He sat up straighter, then slumped. Adjusted a pillow, kicked off a sock, grabbed a bottle of water and forgot to drink it.

His phone buzzed once.

Heart jumped.

It was Aj, some meme, something dumb about zombie cats or a fake youtube boxing league. Normally it would've made him laugh. But now? It only made the silence louder. It only reminded him of who he wasn't hearing from.

He didn't reply.

By hour three, Sharky was pacing.

First slowly, like a stroll.

Then with more purpose.

Like if he just kept moving, it would keep the thoughts from catching him. But they always did.

Why hadn't he texted?

Why hadn't he shown up?

It wasn't like Chunkz. The past few days, he'd been everywhere. Showing up with food. Snatching Sharky's phone to adjust his brightness. Nagging him about hydration like he was training for the Olympics.

He'd hovered like a mother hen. No. More like a storm cloud made of warmth and teasing and care. Sharky had pretended to be annoyed, but inside, it had cracked something open.

He'd started to depend on it.
On him.

And now, today...nothing?

It wasn't about the soup.

It wasn't about the hoodie.

It wasn't about the medicine.

It was the absence.

And how goddamn loud it felt.

Sharky stared at his phone again.

Still no new messages.

He unlocked it anyway, scrolled up through their chat like a desperate archivist, searching for some sign, some reason.

There it was. A blurry photo of soup.

"chef vibes"

One dumb caption, and it made his chest tighten. He actually laughed. Quiet. Barely a breath. But it hit him in the gut.

He turned off the phone and threw it onto the couch. It bounced once and landed face-down.

"Stop being so dramatic" Sharky muttered under his breath. His voice cracked at the edges.

But the ache didn't listen.

Because this wasn't about the cold. He knew that now.

It wasn't about missing the routine. The check-ins. The tea.

It was about Chunkz.

It was about how it had felt, those days when he showed up without being asked. When his voice filled the silence. When his presence made everything feel easier.

It was about how easy it had become to lean into him.

And how terrifyingly easy it had become to need him.

And now that he was gone for a day?

It was like the house was colder.

Like the light had dimmed.

Like something soft and vital had gone missing and taken half of Sharky's breath with it.

He pulled the hoodie tighter around himself, tucking his hands deep into the sleeves. The cuffs brushed his knuckles. The fabric swallowed his frame. It still smelled like the last time Chunkz had stood over him, pulling the blanket up with that low tsk of fake irritation.

Sharky curled into the corner of the couch, smaller, like he could retreat from the ache building behind his ribs.

Why does this matter so much?

Why does he matter so much?

He didn't have an answer. Only the echo of the question.

And the ache that wouldn't leave.

And the terrifying, unmistakable truth buried beneath it all:

He didn't just miss the hoodie.

He didn't just miss the soup.

He missed Chunkz.

And somehow, after just a few days of letting him in, really in and he didn't know how to go back to before.

Just one day.

That's all it had been.

It shouldn't feel like this.

So why did it?

Chapter 18: Still Here

It was pushing past seven in the evening when Sharky heard the front door open.

He didn't move.

Still curled on the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, the TV playing something forgettable in the background. His phone had buzzed a few times in the last hour, but he'd ignored it.

He expected silence.

Instead, he got chaos.

"Yo-o-o-o-o, is the patient still alive?!" Aj called out, his voice bellowed from the hallway.

Sharky flinched.

"Don't yell" Sharky said as he groaned, not even raising his head.

"I brought Vitamin C!" Aj called. 

"An alternative for Vitamin Chunkz, also known as Lucozade Orange" Aj added.

"We also brought Vitamin D. Deez--" Niko said, his voice followed a second later, dry and smug.

"Shut the fuck up man" Aj cuts him off with a slap to the neck.

"And Vitamin B" Kenny said as he shuffled into the room.

 "B for 'Best looking person in this house,' which is clearly me" Kenny added.

Sharky rolled his eyes so hard it actually gave him a headache.

They rounded the corner like a sitcom ensemble, Aj with two plastic bags full of nonsense snacks, definitely not medicine, Niko holding a paper bag that was probably lukewarm takeaway, and Kenny dragging a massive blanket behind him like a cape.

"Seriously?" Sharky croaked. 

"What are you lot doing here?" Sharky added.

"Checking in on the emotionally unwell" Niko said, dropping the bag of food onto the coffee table.

"You mean physically" Sharky corrected.

"No" Kenny said. 

"We mean emotionally" Kenny added.

"You looked like a ghost last night" Aj said.

"Even on WhatsApp. And you haven't posted a single story today. That's not you" Aj added.

"Maybe I'm just tired" Sharky said.

"Maybe you're in love" Kenny sang, draping the blanket dramatically over Sharky's lap like he was unveiling a statue.

Sharky groaned and pulled it tighter around himself. 

"I hate all of you" Sharky said.

"No, you don't" Niko said, plopping down on the armrest. 

"You love us. In a strictly platonic, non-Chunkz way" Niko added.

"Don't start" Sharky said as his face snapped toward him.

"Who's starting?" Niko asked innocently. 

"I'm just saying. Man disappears for one day, and suddenly you're a husk of a human" Niko said.

Aj was already unzipping one of the bags. 

"We brought snacks, by the way. I've got crisps, KitKats, and... what's this? A single banana?" Aj asked as he held it up, confused.

"That's Kenny's" Niko muttered.

"I was being healthy" Kenny said defensively.

"Don't see his name, must be mine then" Aj said as he shamelessly peeled it and took a bite.

Sharky watched them argue, blanket bunched in his lap, the heat from the hoodie pressed to his skin. It was chaotic. Loud. Uninvited.

But it was also familiar.

Comforting in a way he hadn't expected.

"Seriously though" Niko said after a beat, quieter now. 

"You good?" Niko asked.

Sharky looked at him. Looked at all of them.

Aj was halfway through unwrapping a KitKat. Kenny was tucking the blanket around himself like it was his couch. Niko, despite the teasing, had a softness in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed.

And something in Sharky's chest eased.

Just a little.

"Yeah" Sharky said finally. 

"Just tired" Sharky added.

Aj nodded like he didn't believe it but wasn't about to push.

Kenny tossed him another banana anyway. 

"Eat something. That hoodie isn't gonna heal you" Kenny said.

Sharky caught it.

Smiled.

"Thanks" Sharky said.

The boys settled in around him, volume rising again, food being passed, a bag of crisps exploding as Aj tried to open it too fast. Sharky didn't say much after that but he didn't need to.

For a little while, the ache dulled. The silence filled.

And even though it wasn't him.

It helped.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Sharky's eyes blinked open slowly, the room washed in late-evening grey. The TV had turned itself off. The sky outside the window had dimmed into that purple-laced quiet that came just before night really settled in. Everything felt muted, like the house was holding its breath.

He shifted, barely, and that's when he heard it.

Buzz-buzz.

His phone vibrated softly against the mattress near his hip. A lazy, familiar sound. He reached for it without thinking, hand sluggish, fingers fumbling on the screen as he pulled it toward him.

1 New Message.

He squinted at the lock screen.

"Yo, you good? Haven't heard from you today"

That was it.

Seven words.

Simple. Light. Casual. Typical.

And yet.

Sharky's chest fluttered in that way it always did when he saw that name. Stupid. Traitorous. Like his body was still figuring out feelings his brain hadn't dared to label. He stared at the message, thumb hovering, heart thudding with a low, steady pressure.

He reread it.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

No emoji. No follow-up.

Just... check-in mode activated. Like always.

And still, it hit differently.

Because for hours now, the silence had filled the house like fog. Because for the first time in days, Chunkz hadn't come through the door. Hadn't joked. Hadn't hovered. And Sharky had spiraled through that quiet with every hour, waiting for something that didn't come.

Until now.

And suddenly it had come. But it felt, off. Smaller. Like a footnote to what used to be a whole chapter.

He's just being nice

Sharky told himself, locking his phone without replying. 

Like always. 

Checking in. 

That's all it is.

But as he lay back down, arm curled under his head, phone clutched in his fist like a lifeline, he couldn't ignore it.

It stung.

Not enough to break him. Not enough to say anything back.

Just enough to notice. Just enough to ache.

Because he didn't want a text.

He wanted him.

In the room. On the couch. Rolling his eyes. Telling him he looked like a boiled sock. Bringing soup and making fun of how dramatic he was, all while quietly refilling his water without being asked.

He wanted the hoodie and the hand on his shoulder and the presence that made everything feel less sharp.

He wanted what they'd had. And he wanted to believe it meant more than "just checking in"

But the message stayed on his lock screen, glowing softly. Quietly.

A stand-in.

A ghost.

And Sharky just closed his eyes.

Feeling, for the first time in days, unseen.

Sharky sat up slowly, the hoodie bunching around his waist as the phone glowed in his lap. The screen lit his face in soft blue, his features drawn and quiet in the dimness. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, unmoving.

He could feel it, the weight of what he could say.

"Not really"

"It's been a rough day"

"I missed you yesterday"

"Why didn't you check in?"

They pulsed behind his teeth, behind his fingertips. Truths. Raw ones. Ones he could barely admit to himself.

But instead, he blinked. Took a breath. And typed the smallest, easiest lie.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just chilling"

He reread it three times. The most casual sentence in the world.

It looked wrong. Too fine. Too distant.

But he hit send anyway.

The message whooshed off into the void. A little blue bubble, floating away like a paper boat into storm water.

He stared at the screen, waiting for the "typing..." bubble.

It didn't come. Not immediately.

Instead, the quiet rushed back in.

The same quiet he'd been trying to escape all day. It filled the space between his ribs, threaded itself through the seams of the hoodie. Settled, heavy, behind his sternum.

The tension in his chest didn't ease.

It amplified.

Because he knew what he was doing. He was preserving the mask. Keeping things easy. Friendly. Normal.

But the truth was anything but.

The truth was he felt off. Hollowed out. That the one-day gap in Chunkz's attention had unraveled him more than he was ready to admit. That the routine had stopped, and now nothing else quite settled right.

His thumbs hovered again, as if ready to send a second message. To backtrack. To say something real.

But nothing came.

So he just set the phone down, face-up this time, and let it buzz quietly against the couch when Chunkz finally replied a few minutes later.

He didn't open it right away.

Because no matter what the screen said, the ache in his chest wasn't going anywhere.

And for once, he didn't know how to fix it.

You're overreacting.

You don't need him to check in.

He doesn't owe you anything.

The thoughts came fast, sharp, panicked, bitter-edged.

You're fine. 

Stop being weird about this.

But even as he repeated it like a mantra, it felt like trying to tape over a crack in a dam. Water still seeped through, pressure still built behind it.

Because if he was being honest with himself, really honest Chunkz not checking in the day before hadn't just unsettled him.

It had shaken him.

More than he wanted to admit. More than he could explain.

He'd gotten so used to that voice. That presence. That soft steadiness disguised as banter. And without it, the silence rang louder than anything else all day. Every second without a message felt like someone erasing lines from a map he didn't know he was following.

And now?

Buzz.

His phone buzzed again.

"Good, good. Just checking"

"Don't forget to eat though. You're probably not, but I'm still gonna say it"

Sharky read it once. Twice.

The knot in his chest loosened just a little. Like pressure being released from a valve. The casual care was there again. That familiar softness wrapped in a punchline.

It should've made him feel better.

But instead, it made everything worse.

Because suddenly he felt seen in the exact way he'd convinced himself didn't matter.

Why does this affect me like this?

Why do I need him so badly?

He hated that it mattered this much. He hated how relieved he felt at a dumb reminder to eat. He hated that his first instinct was to lash out to protect himself from the care he secretly craved.

The moment it sent, he winced.

Because it wasn't fair.

It wasn't even true. He hadn't eaten anything more substantial than a piece of toast all day.

But it wasn't about the food.

It was about control. About putting up walls again. About clawing back the illusion that he didn't need anyone especially not someone who could make or break his whole day with a single message.

He sat back, staring at the screen. And in that quiet space between messages, Sharky felt the twist in his chest sink deeper.

He didn't want to push him away.

He just didn't know how to stop needing him.

And he didn't know which was worse.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Chunkz sat slouched on the couch, phone in hand, thumb scrolling without really looking.

The screen lit his face in soft, cool light, but his eyes weren't on it. His jaw was tight. His knee bounced once, twice then stilled when he caught himself.

He wasn't reading. He was waiting.

And the silence, for once, didn't feel good.

Footsteps on the stairs broke the stillness casual, familiar, loud like they were stomping just to announce presence. Aj, hoodie hood down, socks mismatched, phone clutched in one hand, wandered into the living room and clocked Chunkz instantly.

He slowed as he entered.

Noticed the slump in Chunkz's shoulders. The way his brows had that slight pull in the middle. The lack of sound from his usually ever-running mouth.

"Yo" Aj said, voice light, sitting nearby and stretching his legs. 

"Did I accidentally walk in on your monologue or what?" Aj asked.

"Nah. Just chillin', man" Chunkz said as he glanced up and offered a quick grin.

Aj leaned back, arm tossed over the side of the couch, trying to play it cool. But it was too quiet for cool.

"You alright, bruv?" Aj asked eventually, tilting his head.

Chunkz blinked.

"Yeah" Chunkz said quickly. Too quickly. 

"Yeah, I'm good" Chunkz added.

Aj smirked. 

"Liar" Aj said.

"I'm fine" Chunkz said.

"You know, every time Sharky's not shouting like a maniac somewhere in the house, your radar goes dead" Aj said as he pointed at him with exaggerated suspicion.

"He's just quiet. That's all" Chunkz said as he chuckled, looking down at his phone again.

"Quiet?" Aj asked as he snorted. 

"You mean 'sick and sad but didn't call my nurse skills'" Aj said.

"He doesn't need me every second, bro" Chunkz said as he forced a grin.

Aj raised a brow. 

"He always needs you. That man thinks Calpol tastes like love now 'cause of you" Aj said.

Chunkz laughed under his breath, then went silent again. Aj let the pause stretch a little.

"You ain't checked on him today, huh" Aj said, tone softer now.

"Did. Sent a message" Chunkz said as he shrugged.

"That's not checking. That's-- 'I'm too in my head but here's a safety ping'" Aj said.

Chunkz didn't respond right away. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring past the TV, lips slightly parted like he might say something but didn't.

Aj leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"Listen" Aj said, tone shifting from playful to real. 

"You've been on Sharky like a full-time nurse all week. Then yesterday? Radio silence. Now today? You're ghostin' the kitchen and starin' at walls like a Shakespeare character" Aj added.

Chunkz scoffed. 

"I'm not--" Chunkz said.

"You are" Aj cuts in smoothly. 

"And I know you care. We all know you care. But if you're gonna confuse the man, at least be consistent" Aj added.

Chunkz looked at him then.

Really looked. Like he was caught. Like someone had finally said what he'd been trying to suppress.

"I just... I don't know what I'm doing" Chunkz muttered, voice low. 

"Feels like more than it should be. Like I'm doing too much. Like if I keep showing up, he'll figure out what I'm not saying" Chunkz added.

"And what aren't you saying?" Aj asked as he raised both brows.

Chunkz hesitated. Breath caught. Then.

"...That I don't want him to stop needing me" Chunkz said, tilting his head to face Aj.

Aj blinked, caught off guard by sudden honesty.

Then nodded, slow. 

"Well, damn" Aj said.

Chunkz dropped his phone into his lap, finally still.

"I didn't mean for it to get like this" Chunkz said. 

"He got sick, I stepped in, it felt normal. But now? I miss him before I even leave the room. And that's not friendly. Not how it used to be" Chunkz added.

Aj smirked again, but it was softer now. 

"You ever think maybe it's not meant to be how it used to be?" Aj asked.

Chunkz didn't answer. He didn't have to.

Aj clapped him on the shoulder and stood, already heading for the kitchen. 

"You want my advice? Go back to being annoying. He actually misses that more than soup" Aj said.

Chunkz exhaled through his nose, a ghost of a smile pulling at his mouth.

And maybe for the first time in two days, he started to believe that just showing up might still mean something.

Chunkz gave a small huff of a laugh, trying to wave the weight of the conversation off with a flick of his hand.

"He's made of stronger stuff than your FIFA bragging, trust me" Chunkz said.

He tried to sound casual. Deflecting. Like it was all still banter. Like it hadn't gotten under his skin.

But Aj didn't move. Didn't smirk. Didn't lean back.

Instead, he took a step closer, arms still folded but his expression more serious than before, grounded in that calm, careful way Aj sometimes slipped into when no one expected it.

"You really believe that?" Aj asked.

His voice was relaxed. But there was something firm beneath it. Steady. Measured. Like he was laying a truth on the table between them, just waiting for Chunkz to stop pretending not to see it.

Chunkz shifted, eyes flicking up.

Aj nodded once, slowly. 

"He's been off since, you know. Since he finally let you look after him" Aj said.

A beat passed.

"Like... really let you" Aj added.

Chunkz said nothing. But his jaw tightened.

Aj didn't stop.

"He's not fine" Aj said simply. 

"And you know it" Aj added.

Another pause. This one heavier. Chunkz looked down at his phone again, screen still blank.

"He said he's good" Chunkz said, his voice came out quieter this time. Less sure.

Aj let out a soft breath, not mocking, just tired.

"And you believed that?" Aj asked.

Chunkz didn't answer. Because he didn't.

Because the message had felt clipped. Off. Too clean. Too much like something he would say when he was trying not to spill.

"Man's been curled up in your hoodie for two days like it's body armor. Barely ate. Snapped at you over text when you just asked if he was okay. You're telling me that's nothing?" Aj asked.

Chunkz stayed silent.

Aj pressed again but gently. 

"You stepped up when he needed it. And now that he wants it, wants you, you're backing off?" Aj asked.

"I'm not backing off" Chunkz muttered, suddenly defensive. 

"I just... I needed to pull back. Give him room. I don't wanna make it weird" Chunkz said.

"You think you haven't already made it weird?" Aj asked as his brow rose.

That hit harder than it should've.

Chunkz winced slightly, and Aj softened, finally taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table across from him.

"Look, I get it. You're trying to do the right thing. But maybe the right thing isn't giving him space" Aj paused. 

"Maybe it's being the person you already were before you got scared" Aj said.

Chunkz swallowed.

"He let you in. That's rare for him, bro. Don't punish him for it. You're smart, figure things out man" Aj added.

And just like that, Chunkz felt the full weight of it again.

The hoodie. The silences. The don't leave me but don't ask me to say it way Sharky looked at him the night before.

And he knew, deep down he knew that Aj was right.

He hadn't backed off to give space. He'd backed off because he was scared of what it all meant.

And now? Now he wasn't sure if the damage was already done.

Chunkz tensed.

He shifted on the couch, jaw clenching like a hinge. His fingers tightened around the phone in his lap, knuckles white with the grip.

"He's exaggerating" Chunkz said, waving a hand toward nothing in particular. 

"He's always like that when he's tired" Chunkz added.

It came out too fast. Too easy. Automatic.

Aj didn't flinch. Didn't even blink.

Instead, he leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes steady, tone even but certain.

"Man" Aj said.

"That vibe between you two? It's like static. You walk into a room and everyone can feel it. Don't tell me you don't" Aj added.

Chunkz flinched but subtly. His eyes darted away like he'd been caught mid-thought, mid-truth, mid-something he couldn't swallow down fast enough.

He rolled his eyes hard, head whipping to the side like the motion could dismiss the weight of what Aj just said.

"I'm a grown man, okay?" Chunkz said, louder now, more bark than bite. 

"Emotions, feelings-- they don't dictate this. I'm not--- some soft-hearted idiot" Chunkz added.

Aj leaned back and gave a slow, unimpressed nod.

"Right" Aj said, voice laced with amusement. 

"Because you've never had feelings in your life" Aj added.

"Since when do you not have feelings, big man?" Aj asked as he shook his head, chuckling under his breath.

"This isn't about feelings. It's about-- he was sick. I looked after him. That's it" Chunkz said as he narrowed his eyes.

Aj didn't blink.

"Sure" Aj said. 

"Except... you still check your phone like you're waiting for a text that doesn't come. You sit here scrolling through nothing. And when you did get a message from him, you stared at it like it meant something" Aj added.

He paused.

"And when he pulled back, so did you" Aj said.

Chunkz's chest rose sharply. Aj's voice softened, almost like he didn't want to break something fragile between them.

"I've never seen you like this before" Aj said. 

"You're worried about him. Maybe more than anyone else. That's not weird. That's not weakness" Aj added.

Chunkz looked away again, fingers twitching against his knee. His voice, when it finally came, was barely above a whisper.

"Maybe I am" Chunkz said.

Aj blinked.

Chunkz swallowed hard.

"So what?" Chunkz muttered. 

"Doesn't mean I have to analyze it. Doesn't mean I need to... do anything about it" Chunkz added.

Aj tilted his head, expression unreadable.

"Man. Since when did you join Team Stoic?" Aj said gently, almost like a tease. 

"You used to be the loudest heart in the room. Now you're sitting here like some tragic Netflix character" Aj added.

Chunkz let out a weak laugh but it didn't reach his eyes.

Aj stood slowly.

"Chunkz" Aj said, stepping forward, voice quiet but firm. 

"You're circling around this like it's a landmine. But avoidance? It's not gonna help Sharky" Aj added.

He leaned down, hand on the back of the couch, close now, serious in that soft, steady way only someone who knows you well can be.

"And it's not gonna help you, either" Aj said.

He paused.

"Just say it. Care enough to admit you're seeing what's happening and do something" Aj said.

The words weren't shouted.

But they landed.

Chunkz didn't respond. His silence was the response. It sat thick between them, like fog that wouldn't lift.

Aj sighed, reached out, and clapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Come on, man" Aj said quietly. 

"Just keep your eyes open" Aj added.

And then he turned, disappearing up the stairs, leaving the living room quiet, the screen flickering softly against the walls, the weight of the conversation settling like dust.

Chunkz sat there for a long time.

His hands hung loosely in his lap. His eyes locked on nothing.

And the mask he'd been wearing, quiet, confident, untouchable. It cracked. Just slightly.

And what peeked out from underneath? Was fear.

And something worse.

Hope.

 

////_////_////_////

 

It started with the sound.

Keys jangling. Door creaking open. The unmistakable shuffle of footsteps that didn't bother trying to be quiet. Familiar, comfortable, assumed.

Chunkz didn't knock.

He never had to.

He let himself in like it was nothing. Like there hadn't been radio silence. Like Sharky hadn't been pacing and spiraling and barely resisting the urge to text first.

Sharky stood halfway down the hall, arms crossed, pulse skipping.

He heard the thud of a bag being dropped, then the familiar creak of the couch cushions as Chunkz flopped down with that same effortless sprawl like the furniture had been waiting for him. He opened a takeaway container, took a fry like he hadn't ghosted him for nearly a day and a half, and settled in like it was just another Tuesday.

Sharky watched him from the doorway.

Still. Tense. Unsure.

What are you doing here?

Did you come because I didn't reply? 

Because I snapped? 

Because I didn't say what I meant?

Did you notice?

He hated that he cared.

He hated how much he needed him to notice. He stepped into the room, too stiff, like the air had changed and only he could feel it.

"Okay. What are you really doing here?" Sharky asked, his voice cracked just slightly when he spoke.

Chunkz didn't flinch. Didn't tease.

He looked up with that lazy grin, warm, crooked, dangerous in the way only he could be. 

"Making sure you don't starve yourself. You've been quiet. Figured I'd check in" Chunkz said.

"I'm fine. You don't have to--" Sharky said as he bristled, folding his arms tighter.

"Don't have to what?" Chunkz asked.

Chunkz's voice softened, not mocking. Not angry. Just serious. That shift in tone made Sharky freeze.

That look again.

The one that slid through his defenses like it belonged there. The one that said I see you in ways words never could.

"You don't want me to check in?" Chunkz asked. 

"You don't want me to make sure you're alright?" Chunkz added.

A pause.

"I'm not that kind of friend, bro" Chunkz said.

Sharky's breath caught.

That kind.

What does that mean?

Friend who hovered? Friend who cared too much? Friend who showed up even when he wasn't asked? Friend who looked at him like he was the only person in the room?

Sharky sat down hard on the opposite end of the couch, too fast. The cushions dipped under him. He grabbed the nearest pillow and clutched it to his chest like it might hold him together.

He forced a laugh but it came out cracked, raw.

"Not like you're gonna leave me alone anyway" Sharky said.

Chunkz chuckled under his breath. But when he looked over, his eyes didn't match the grin. They were closer now. Somehow. Even with space between them.

"You're right" Chunkz said softly. 

"I won't" Chunkz added.

He paused, then added gently, deliberately.

"But I want you to be okay, Sharky. I don't need a reason to take care of you" Chunkz said.

That landed hard.

Harder than Sharky was ready for.

He clutched the pillow tighter, fingers curling into the fabric. His heart beat louder than the TV. Louder than anything. He felt it in his throat, behind his eyes, in the quiet echo of Chunkz's voice.

Stop being so nice.

Stop making this harder.

He stared straight ahead. Couldn't look at him.

"Yeah" Sharky murmured. 

"I know" Sharky added.

And then, the silence fell.

Not cold. Not awkward.

Just close. Too close.

The kind of silence that wrapped around them like a shared secret. The kind that held everything neither of them was saying. Everything between them cracked open and glowing, wordless and real.

Sharky didn't move. Chunkz didn't either.

And in that stillness, Sharky realized something terrifying.

He wasn't just afraid of needing Chunkz. He was afraid Chunkz might already know.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Time passed like water dripping slowly in a silent room.

The TV mumbled to itself in the background some throwaway reality show neither of them were really watching. Light flickered against the far wall. A soft breeze pushed against the curtains, barely moving them.

And still, neither of them moved.

Sharky stayed half-curled into the corner of the couch, clutching the pillow like it anchored him. Chunkz sat upright but slouched, legs stretched, head tilted slightly toward the screen.

Every once in a while, Chunkz would glance over.

Not long. Not heavy.

Just flickers. Quiet check-ins. Ghosts of concern behind his lashes.

Sharky felt every one of them. He just... couldn't look back.

Because if he did, he wasn't sure what would happen.

What would show on his face. What might come out of his mouth.

This, this strange silence between them felt like everything at once.

Too much. And not enough.

It pressed in around him. Wrapped tight. And still, Sharky said nothing. Held nothing. Offered nothing but his breathing, steady and false.

Eventually, Chunkz shifted.

Stood slowly, quietly. Brushed his hoodie straight. His shadow moved across the carpet as he stepped toward the hallway.

"I'm heading out soon" Chunkz said, soft. No weight behind it. Just a statement. A reminder.

He paused halfway to the door.

"But if you need anything..." Chunkz added.

He looked back.

"...you know where to find me" Chunkz said.

Sharky nodded too fast. Too eager to keep it all surface-level.

"Yeah" Sharky murmured. 

"No, thanks for checking in. I appreciate it" Sharky said.

His voice cracked on "appreciate" Barely.

But Chunkz heard it. Sharky knew he did.

Chunkz's smile was brief, easy. But his eyes lingered. Like he wanted to say more. Like he knew there was more waiting under the surface and decided not to push it.

He joked instead.

"Don't act like you don't need me" Chunkz said, grin crooked as he bent to slip on his shoes.

Sharky laughed, one sharp breath, no humor in it.

Chunkz opened the door. And then.

Click.

Gone.

The door closed like a breath leaving the room.

Sharky sat still for another minute. Maybe two.

The air felt colder.

He looked down at the empty space on the couch beside him.

"...I do" Sharky whispered to no one.

 

////_////_////_////

 

Sharky sat in the silence that followed, unmoving.

The room was quiet again, eerily so. The kind of quiet that felt deliberate, like it had been waiting outside until Chunkz left. Like it rushed in the moment the door clicked shut, eager to reclaim the space.

And just like that, the air turned cold.

The same walls. The same couch. The same flickering TV light and blanket-wrapped stillness.

But without him?

It felt like a replica of comfort. Not the real thing. Just the hollow echo of it.

Sharky's fingers curled tighter around the pillow in his lap. It was still warm from his hands, but that wasn't the warmth he wanted.

His gaze drifted toward the door. His throat was dry. His jaw locked.

I didn't want him to leave.

The thought dropped into his chest like a stone. Sharp. Undeniable. Too loud to ignore.

And once it landed, it echoed. Over and over.

I didn't want him to leave.

He blinked at the space where Chunkz had sat just moments before his empty imprint in the cushion, the slight shift in air where his presence had lived. He could almost still feel it.

Hear his voice.

Don't act like you don't need me.

See his face, soft, serious, unguarded.

I do.

I do.

I do.

But he hadn't said it. Not aloud. Instead, he'd nodded. Pretended. Let the moment pass.

Because what was he supposed to say?

Stay?

Don't go?

I hate how quiet it gets when you leave?

That wasn't friendship. Not anymore. And that scared him more than anything.

His eyes stung, but not from tears. From the pressure. The ache of too many thoughts crowding the same small space inside his chest.

He pulled the hoodie tighter, tucking his chin down, curling smaller like that would make it easier.

But it didn't.

All it did was remind him of what he'd lost in the space of a minute—something unspoken, something warm, something close.

He sat there like that for a long time.

No messages. No knocks. No soup.

Just him.

And the loud, aching truth:

He didn't want Chunkz to leave. And more than that, he didn't want him to keep leaving.

Not when he made everything feel okay. Not when he made him feel okay.

And worst of all, he wasn't sure how much longer he could pretend that wasn't love.

Chapter 19: Quiet as a Confession

Chunkz sat alone, still sunken into the couch, the fabric creased beneath his arms, his hoodie bunched at the shoulders. The room was dim now, lit only by the faint glow of the paused TV screen and a sliver of hallway light from upstairs.

Aj was gone. His footsteps had faded. The house had swallowed the sound.

But his words? They didn't leave.

You're circling around this.

Care enough to admit it.

Just say it.

Keep your eyes open.

Chunkz's stare was fixed on the floor. Unmoving. Jaw tight. A pulse flickering at his temple.

He hadn't said anything after Aj left. Not even a sigh. Just sat there tense, heavy, breathing through clenched teeth like the silence might press an answer out of him.

Then, slowly, very slowly, he exhaled.

Shoulders slumped forward. Hands slid down his knees. His phone sat idle beside him, screen black.

His expression didn't break but it shifted. A flicker of something behind his eyes, a resignation. A recognition.

Like he knew the denial was over.

He could pretend it was nothing and just friendship, just care, just routine. But the moment he missed Sharky, not because he was sick but because he wasn't near?

That was when the lie stopped working. That was when everything cracked.

He sat there, staring at his own shoes.

Then tilted his head back against the cushion, staring up at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of answer. But there were no answers in the ceiling.

Just that quiet voice in his head whispering what he wasn't ready to say aloud:

You care more than you should.

You always have.

And maybe it's not just care anymore.

Chunkz closed his eyes briefly. In the stillness, he didn't fight it this time. Didn't flinch from it.

He just felt it.

And though he didn't say a word. Though no music swelled, no dramatic epiphany happened. There was something quiet and real in that moment.

Denial was crumbling.

The question hung in the air, soft and sharp.

Now what?

 

////_////_////_////

 

The van smelled like road snacks and hoodie sleeves and something vaguely citrusy, probably Aj's fault. The sliding door squeaked open, and the sound of trainers scuffing on carpeted floors echoed in the narrow space as the squad filed in one by one.

Sharky had already claimed a window seat near the back, legs stretched, hood up, eyes half on his phone as a shield. He was bracing for a long drive.

Then.

"Middle seat sucks. Glad I got the prime spot" Chunkz said, his voice light and smug, broke through the static in his head.

He slid in beside Sharky, dropping down into the seat with easy confidence and a grin that had no right being that familiar. He nudged Sharky's thigh with his knee, barely but it was enough to send a ripple of heat down Sharky's spine.

Sharky stiffened. Immediately. Like his body clocked it before his mind did.

He shifted slightly, enough to seem casual, not enough to seem cold and pulled his legs inward, making room. But the tension stayed in his chest. His hands pulled tighter around his phone. His eyes stayed fixed ahead.

Why does this feel like a test?

Aj and Kenny tumbled in next, bickering over a playlist like it was a life-or-death decision.

"Bro, we're not listening to five hours of 2000s grime remixes" Kenny said as he groaned, wrestling the aux cable from Aj's hand.

"Let the culture live, man!" Aj protested.

Niko climbed in last, passing a half-smashed bag of crisps across.

"Snacks for the people" Niko said.

The banter filled the van instantly. Loud, stupid, distracting. But all Sharky could focus on was the two inches of space between his thigh and Chunkz's.

Two inches.

And the fact that it wasn't nothing.

He could feel the heat of him. Could smell the faint whiff of his cologne, warm, a little sweet. Could sense every small movement, like his body had mapped the rhythms of Chunkz's presence and now couldn't unlearn them.

And then, Chunkz reached forward lazily, arm brushing Sharky's as he grabbed the chip bag from Niko.

Just a brush. Just a nothing gesture.

But Sharky's body reacted like someone had flipped a switch.

His shoulders jerked. His breath caught. His skin buzzed under his hoodie sleeve where their arms had touched.

He froze.

Then too quick, too transparent, he faked a cough. Looked down. Fumbled with the zipper of his jacket like it was suddenly too tight around his neck.

Chunkz didn't seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn't show it.

He just popped a chip in his mouth and leaned back, scrolling his phone, laughing at something Aj said up front.

But Sharky... Sharky sat there, burning in silence, staring at the back of the seat in front of him like it had answers.

Why does every touch feel electric?

His heart thudded in his ears.

I can't. This is too much.

Outside the window, trees blurred past in streaks of green and gold. The road stretched ahead in long, winding curves. And inside the van, Sharky sat still, shoulders taut, lungs tight, heart aching with something too big for the space between them.

And all he could think was.

Don't touch me again.

Don't stop touching me.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The cabin smelled like pinewood and dusted cinnamon.

Late afternoon light streamed through wide windows, casting amber streaks across the hardwood floor. A set of string lights flickered lazily across the ceiling beams, half-tangled, waiting to be fixed. The large wooden table in the center groaned under the weight of camera bags, light stands, folded clothes, and a branded box of props labeled "TikTok Bundle – Do Not Crush"

Outside, lakewater shimmered between tall pines. Inside, it was warm. Lived-in. Cozy.

Sharky crouched beside a cardboard box near the fireplace, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes scanning the contents like they might bite.

Chunkz dropped beside him with far less care, landing with a quiet grunt and a grin.

They were assigned together, unpacking wardrobe and prop boxes for the shoot tomorrow. Team "Don't Break Anything" Everyone else had scattered, Kenny was testing mics in the kitchen. Aj was outside yelling into his phone. Niko fiddled with lighting in the corner, half-focused, half-watching.

"Yo. Careful. You'll drop that" Chunkz said as he nudged Sharky's foot with his knee.

Sharky let out a short snort, not looking up. 

"Least I can grip things. Your hands are soft like pastry" Sharky said.

"Pastry's elite" Chunkz muttered. 

"Don't disrespect croissants and my hands in one sentence" Chunkz added.

Sharky smiled, half-guarded but when he reached into the box for a folded sweatshirt, his hand brushed against Chunkz's.

Barely. A graze.

But Chunkz didn't move away.

Not immediately.

The warmth lingered, intentional and Sharky's fingers went still beneath his.

There was a pause. Too short to be obvious. Too long to ignore.

Sharky's chest tightened. He pulled back abruptly, clearing his throat like the box dust had gotten to him.

Chunkz didn't comment. Just reached for the next item with that same casual rhythm, like the contact hadn't happened or like he knew it had, and wanted to leave it untouched.

They didn't look at each other. Or rather they did. Just for a second. A glance, shared in the blur of movement.

Sharky looked up. Chunkz was already looking down. They met in the middle for half a breath. Eyes catching, pausing.

And then they both looked away. Quickly.

Across the room, Niko stood still half-crouched beside a light stand, adjusting it just so. His hands paused mid-rotation as he looked toward them.

He said nothing. No quip. No interruption. Just... watching.

Not invasive. Not even judgmental. Just quietly aware.

His gaze lingered a second too long on Sharky enough to notice how stiff his posture had gone. How careful his hands suddenly looked, like they didn't know where to rest.

Then Niko looked away. Said nothing.

Resumed adjusting the light. The cabin's string lights flickered once. Outside, wind brushed against the glass.

Inside, Sharky folded another hoodie and tried to slow his pulse. Chunkz leaned back slightly on his hands, still beside him, still warm.

And nothing else was said.

But everything had shifted.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The night folded in soft and slow.

Outside, the wind rustled through pine needles like a sigh, but the air around the cabin fire was still warm with crackling logs and the low hum of voices. Stars blinked faintly above the clearing, the smoke curling into the sky in lazy spirals.

They'd circled up around the stone firepit. Blankets draped across shoulders, half-empty mugs scattered near logs, and the glow of flames dancing in reflections across everyone's faces.

Aj was mid-story, animated as ever, flinging his arms like the tale needed choreography. Kenny tossed bits of popcorn into the air, trying to catch them with his mouth and failing every time.

Laughter rolled through the group in waves.

But Sharky felt it.

That gated shift. That tiny lock on something that used to swing open between him and Chunkz so effortlessly.

Chunkz sat opposite him, hoodie pulled up, one knee propped. His grin was soft, easy but when their eyes met across the fire, it hit.

That smile. That stupid, familiar smile.

It landed like a pull through Sharky's ribs, sharp, quiet, undeniable.

And he couldn't stop it.

"I swear Aj's making up half this story" Sharky muttered under his breath, smirking just enough to bait the group.

The laughter bounced back quick, familiar.

But even as the others riffed off it, something in the moment stalled.

Because the usual spark between him and Chunkz, the side-eyes, the echo lines, the timing was there, but gated. Like they were both pushing their lines through half-shut doors.

The fire cracked. Marshmallows popped faintly at the edge of the flames. Chunkz leaned forward, reaching for the bag of marshmallows in the center.

So did Sharky.

Their hands collided softly, unintentionally.

Chunkz's fingers landed atop Sharky's.

Warm. Still.

And for a moment, neither of them moved. Eyes locked across the flicker of flames.

Everything else, Aj's rambling, Kenny's popcorn game, Niko scrolling silently beside them blurred to the edges.

Just that touch.

Just them.

And a silence that meant too much.

Chunkz's mind scrambled.

Why do I turn into a wreck when he looks at me like that?

It wasn't just the eyes.

It was the way Sharky froze too. The way his hand didn't pull back immediately. The way his mouth was a little open, like something almost escaped.

He's off, Chunkz thought. 

He's been off.

Am I the cause?

He pulled his hand back slowly, careful, like it might spark something if he moved too fast.

Inside Sharky, panic hit hard.

I can't.

I won't.

Just jokes. That's what this is. That's what it should be.

The warmth in his chest churned too fast.

He grabbed the marshmallow bag, muttered something under his breath he wasn't even sure what and handed it to Chunkz without looking.

They sat back.

The moment broke. But the air didn't ease.

Chunkz leaned back on his hands, watching the flames.

Sharky rubbed his thumb across his palm where their hands had touched, like the feeling might fade if he didn't hold it.

It didn't.

And the fire crackled on, loud against everything they wouldn't say.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The cabin was drenched in early haze, pale blue light filtering through the windowpanes, soft and sleepy. Pine shadows stretched long across the floorboards, the kind of calm that only comes in the hour just before full morning.

Niko padded into the main room in socks, hoodie wrinkled from sleep, eyes still adjusting. He was expecting emptiness.

Instead, he paused mid-step.

Sharky was slumped in one of the armchairs, curled like someone who hadn't meant to fall asleep but lost the fight anyway. His head tilted slightly back, lips parted just a little, arms folded loosely across his chest.

The oversized hoodie he wore, Chunkz's hoodie draped over him like a second blanket.

Next to him, on the small table, sat a half-drunk cup of tea, now long gone cold. The angle of the cup, the faint ring it had left Niko clocked every detail with quiet eyes.

He didn't speak. Didn't make a sound. He just stood there.

Watching.

Sharky's face, even in sleep, looked soft. Unguarded. Not the usual animated, defensive energy. Not the self-aware sharpness he wore like armor.

Just... vulnerable.

Exhausted, yes.

But open in a way that struck something deep in Niko's chest.

He furrowed his brows slightly, gaze heavy with unspoken thought.

Something's changed in him.

There was care in that posture. Fear in the lines around his eyes. A closeness clinging to him like perfume, like a memory that hadn't faded overnight.

And Niko knew what he was seeing.

He cares. He's scared.

And who wouldn't be?

The room stayed still.

Niko crossed to the chair quietly. He didn't shake him. Didn't speak.

Instead, he crouched slightly just enough to reach out.

His fingers rested on Sharky's shoulder for the briefest moment.

A silent gesture.

I see you.

Then he withdrew.

No words. No smirk. No joke.

Just care.

He turned and moved back toward the hallway, steps careful, letting Sharky stay where he was, drifting in his sleep, hoodie soft around him, tea untouched, the whole room echoing with something neither of them had the language for yet.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The cabin was quieter now.

Kenny was still asleep on the pull-out sofa, half-buried under a weighted blanket. Niko had wandered off to set up something with the drone. Aj had stayed behind, not by request, not because anyone asked but because he always knew when the room needed one more witness. Or one less.

Chunkz stood by the cabin's back window, staring out at the trees like they were going to deliver a divine answer.

Arms crossed. Brows tight.

Aj sat at the table behind him, fiddling with a phone charger that didn't belong to him. Just quietly observing.

"You're thinking too loud" Aj said finally.

"You sound like Sharky" Chunkz said without turning.

"That's worrying for both of us" Aj muttered. 

"But seriously. Your brain's in knots. I can hear it from here" Aj added.

Chunkz exhaled sharply. 

"I'm not in knots. Just... tired" Chunkz said.

"Uh-huh" Aj said.

"...You been standing in that exact spot for ten minutes" Aj added.

"I'm thinking" Chunkz said.

"You're staring into that tea like it's gonna solve your whole life" Aj said.

Chunkz shrugs, gives a hollow laugh. 

"Maybe it will. Green tea's good for clarity, right?" Chunkz said.

"Not when you're steeping in delusion" Aj said as he raises an eyebrow.

"You tryna help or roast me?" Chunkz asked.

Aj waited a beat.

"Bro. You're like, the smartest person I know. Actual brain cells. Strategic. Calm under pressure. You could run a Fortune 500 or rob a museum, your pick" Aj said.

Chunkz's head turned a little, just enough to glance over his shoulder. 

"Thanks. Really enlightening" Chunkz said.

"I'm just saying" Aj continued, voice dry.

 "You do all this complex thinking, carry everyone's weight, plan ten steps ahead... but the moment it comes to you, it's like, suddenly we're in mud. No traction. Just spinning wheels" Aj said.

"But you're moving like you got stuck in a mudslide of feelings, and every time someone throws you a rope, you just look at it like 'Hmm. Maybe I'll drown first'" Aj added.

Silence.

Chunkz's spoon stops stirring. He stares at the swirl in the cup.

"I don't know what I'm feeling" Chunkz said.

Aj watches him a second. 

"Yeah, you do" Aj said.

"I-- " Chunkz starts. Then stops. 

"It's not that simple" Chunkz added.

Aj steps closer. Not confrontational. Just grounded.

"It never is. Especially with him" Aj said.

There was a long silence.

"It's not that complicated" Chunkz said.

"Isn't it?" Aj asked as he raised a brow.

"I know what I'm doing" Chunkz said.

"You know what you're saying" Aj countered. 

"Different thing" Aj said.

Chunkz finally turned fully, arms still folded across his chest, stance guarded.

Aj met his gaze without flinching.

"I saw you last night" Aj said simply. 

"By the fire. With him" Aj added.

"Nothing happened" Chunkz immediately cuts him off,  jaw flexed, just a little.

"Didn't say it did" Aj said.

Aj let that hang.

"Look. I know I'm dating Niko, but that doesn't mean I knew how I did that" Aj said.

Chunkz blinked. 

"What? What's that got to do with this?" Chunkz asked.

Aj shrugged, gaze still calm.

"I didn't have a plan. I wasn't ready. I just kept noticing... the way I noticed. And suddenly, there he was. Loud. Relentless. Impossible to ignore" Aj said.

He paused.

"Sound familiar?" Aj asked.

Chunkz didn't reply.

Aj leaned back in his chair, sighing like it wasn't that deep but it was. 

"You don't have to have it all figured out before you let yourself feel it. You're allowed to be unsure. You're allowed to not know" Aj said.

Chunkz looked away again.

"You don't have to outsmart this one, bro. You just have to stop pretending like you're not already in it" Aj said.

Chunkz hadn't moved from the window.

The trees didn't offer answers. Just vibes. And right now, even those were giving him side-eye.

Aj made a face. 

"That was weak. You're slipping. Emotional paralysis ruining your game?" Aj said.

"I'm not emotionally paralyzed" Chunkz said as he finally turned, scowling.

"Oh no? Just emotionally... rooted to the floor like one of those trees out there?" Aj asked.

"You're hilarious" Chunkz ssaid.

"I try" Aj said as he raised the mug.

There was a pause. Aj let it stretch just long enough before leaning forward slightly, elbows on knees, voice dropping a notch.

"Listen, Chunkz" Aj said.

"Mm?" Chunkz hummed.

"You need to make a move" Aj said.

Chunkz blinked. 

"What?" Chunkz asked.

"Make. A. Move" Aj said clearly, like Chunkz was hard of hearing. 

"Say something. Do something. Trip and land mouth-first on his stupidly kissable face. I don't care. Just-- something" Aj added.

Chunkz stared. 

"...You sound like Niko" Chunkz said.

"God help me, I know" Aj said.

Aj took another sip. Calm. Dangerous.

"But at least Niko did something eventually. You're over here doing long stares and silent heart attacks like a Victorian widow" Aj said.

Chunkz groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. 

"It's not that easy" Chunkz said.

"Of course it's not easy" Aj shot back. 

"You think I walked up to Niko like, 'Hey, I love the way you wear bucket hats like you're fighting demons. Wanna kiss?' No. I was weird and miserable for weeks" Aj added.

Chunkz gave him a look. 

"You're still weird and miserable" Chunkz said.

"And still kissed him. Point stands" Aj said as he grinned.

Chunkz went quiet again, the inside of his chest buzzing. Aj tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Sharky's not gonna stay still forever, you know" Aj said.

That hit.

Aj continued, more measured now, like he was aiming.

"We both know he's got mad fine looks-- I mean, even Niko said once he had those 'if-I-was-straight-I'd-blink-twice'" Aj said.

Chunkz snorted despite himself.

Aj didn't let up. 

"There are people who will notice him. Who probably already have. And if you don't get out of your own way, one day someone braver is gonna say the thing you're too scared to" Aj said.

That silenced everything.

Chunkz exhaled, eyes lowered. 

"What if I ruin it?" Chunkz asked.

"What if you don't?" Aj said as he shrugged.

That hung heavy for a beat. Then, with classic Aj timing, he added, deadpan.

"Besides. You're too smart to be this stupid for too long. Odds are in your favor" Aj said.

Chunkz cracked a grin, shaking his head. 

"You give the worst pep talks, bro" Chunkz said.

"Yeah, and yet here you are. Still listening" Aj said as he stood, mug empty.

He walked past Chunkz, pausing only once to clap a hand on his shoulder.

"Go, before someone hotter and funnier gets there first" Aj said.

And with that, he left, leaving Chunkz in a room full of too much quiet and just enough clarity.

And somewhere deeper in the cabin, a hoodie that wasn't his was probably still warming Sharky's skin.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The long wooden table was cluttered with mugs, half-eaten biscuits, a deck of cards no one had finished shuffling, and one barely-functioning laptop that Aj swore he would not be using for edits.

Kenny had a pen in his mouth, scribbling notes with his foot up on a chair. Niko was poking through the fridge, announcing every leftover item like it was an auction.

"One half-empty oat milk. One mysterious curry-- any takers? A piece of bread with suspicious intent--" Kenny said.

Laughter echoed around the table. Light. Familiar.

 "You better put that suspicious bread back in isolation" Aj added dryly, arms crossed.

Sharky let out a small laugh, more exhale than joy, and sipped at his tea. His chair was angled slightly away from the table, back hunched just a little too far to look comfortable.

He'd been quiet all evening. Not withdrawn enough to raise alarm but just enough to feel off-rhythm.

Chunkz noticed. Of course he did.

He was circling the room like usual refilling glasses, poking fun at Kenny, fake-debating with Aj over the edit schedule but every lap brought him close to Sharky. Every lap came with a glance.

Checking in.

Looking for something soft in his eyes. Some signal. Some warmth. And once, just once Sharky looked up and caught him doing it.

Locked eyes. For a second too long.

And it was there. In the tension of it.

Chunkz's expression flickered. The grin faltered just slightly, just real enough. A question held in silence.

But Sharky looked away. Fast. Distant. Like the weight of it was too much to carry. His tea cup rattled a little as he set it down.

"Breakfast plan. Who's up first?" Aj said, voice broke the moment.

"Not me" Kenny grunted. 

"I'm declaring bankruptcy on consciousness until at least 10am" Kenny added.

"We've got to shoot that brand thing by noon, yeah? We'll need golden hour by the lake before that" Niko chimed in, already typing notes into his phone.

Groans around the table. The usual rhythm. Plans, jokes, noise. Chunkz drifted back toward his seat, paused beside Sharky's. He leaned slightly, close enough to touch, but didn't.

Then with dramatic flair, he offered a low, exaggerated bow, palm over heart.

"Partner in crime" Chunkz said, voice theatrical but gentle. 

"You in?" Chunkz asked.

Sharky looked up slowly. Grinned. Soft. Automatic.

But his eyes flicked down just as quickly, the smile not quite reaching his chest.

"Yeah" Sharky said, quiet. 

"Course" Sharky added.

But the bitterness pulsed just beneath it. The ache of too much feeling, too little space to feel it in.

Inside, it twisted.

I'm too tangled for this.

Chunkz held his posture for a second longer, like he wanted to wait for something more.

But nothing else came. He straightened, letting the mask fall back in place. 

"That's what I like to hear" Chunkz said, breezy.

And he walked back to the table, laughter echoing around himbut the heat of Sharky's silence still clinging to the air between them.

Notes:

Hello lovelies!!!

I swear, this gets worse before it gets better.

Chapter 20: Operation Jealousy

The first time he noticed it, they were by the kitchen counter. The kettle was whistling, Sharky was frowning at a chipped mug like it had personally offended him and Chunkz, without thinking had reached up to grab one from the higher shelf.

"Here" Chunkz said, casual, voice a little lower than it needed to be. 

"Use this one. No crack" Chunkz added.

Sharky glanced up. Their fingers brushed as the mug changed hands. He smiled tiny, grateful, tired. And just as Chunkz turned, heart doing that dumb flutter thing he still hadn't managed to kill off, he caught it.

Aj.

Leaning against the fridge with his arms crossed, sipping from his mug like he was watching theatre.

Brows raised slightly. Not mocking. Not even surprised. Just... knowing.

It was gone in a second, that look. Replaced by a very neutral sip and a scroll through his phone. But the damage was done.

Chunkz looked away too fast, suddenly aware of everything, the proximity, the mug, his tone, how stupidly soft he'd sounded.

He brushed it off. One-off. Nothing.

Except, it happened again.

And again.

The next day, the group was packing up camera equipment after golden hour shots by the lake.

Sharky had been quieter than usual. Not moody, just a little sun-dazed and still half in his own world.

Chunkz noticed.

So, when Sharky reached down for a folded light stand, fingers fumbling slightly, Chunkz was there in half a second.

"I got it" Chunkz said smoothly, taking it from him before Sharky could protest.

"Didn't even let me try" Sharky muttered with a faint smile.

"You looked like you were about to injure yourself and the equipment" Chunkz replied.

Sharky rolled his eyes but didn't push it. 

"Fine, gentleman behavior. I'll allow it" Sharky said.

Chunkz felt the warmth bloom stupidly across his chest. Until he glanced to the left.

Aj again.

This time sitting on the wooden railing, hoodie sleeves pushed up, clipboard in his lap.

Looking dead at him.

No words. No smirk. Just that look.

Mild judgment. A sprinkle of curiosity. And something just shy of smug amusement.

Again? 

That look said. 

You're just gonna keep doing this, huh?

Chunkz gave him a small frown. Aj responded with a very pointed sip of water.

"Problem?" Chunkz asked when they passed each other later near the porch.

Aj looked up, blinked slowly. 

"I didn't say anything" Aj said, acting clueless but a smirked crept into his face.

"Exactly" Chunkz muttered, brushing past.

"But your face said everything" Aj said, as his voice followed him, dry as ash.

From there, it escalated slowly. Like Aj was playing a long game of observational chess.

At breakfast, when Sharky sat down next to Chunkz and stole a bite of his pancakes, Chunkz didn't even blink. Just slid the plate closer so Sharky wouldn't have to reach.

Aj, two seats down, caught it.

Tilted his head like a disappointed therapist.

At lunch, when Sharky came in complaining about the cold and Chunkz immediately offered his hoodie again, Aj looked between them with the expression of someone reading the last chapter of a book he'd already guessed the ending to.

And one night, when everyone was cleaning up the living room and Sharky mumbled that his back hurt from carrying prop boxes all day. Chunkz, without thinking, walked over and pressed two knuckles into his shoulder, rubbing gently like he'd done it a hundred times before.

Sharky blinked up at him, startled at first, then half-melted under the touch.

Chunkz didn't even realize how naturally he'd done it until.

"Wow" Aj said from across the room. 

"We massaging now?" Aj added.

The entire group turned. Chunkz froze mid-rub, hand hovering like he'd just been caught in a crime.

Sharky snorted, suddenly shy, pulling away. 

"Man, shut up" Sharky said.

"Was just-- he said his back-- forget it" Chunkz said as he pulled his hand back too fast.

"I didn't say anything" Aj said as he raised both hands in mock surrender.

"You said everything" Chunkz grumbled.

Aj smiled.

Later that night, Chunkz cornered him on the deck, the wind soft and pine-scented around them.

"You good?" Chunkz asked, folding his arms, standing beside him.

"I'm chill" Aj said without even looking away from the sky.

"You keep giving me looks" Chunkz said.

"Do I?" Aj said as he tilted his head.

"You're being weird" Chunkz said as he gave him a look of his own.

"I'm always weird" Aj said.

"You're being weird about me and Sharky" Chunkz said.

Aj was silent for a beat. Then, without flinching,

"You and Sharky, huh?" Aj asked.

Chunkz blinked. 

"That's not-- what I meant" Chunkz said.

"Mmm" Aj hummed as he took a thoughtful sip from his mug. 

"Interesting phrasing though" Aj said.

Chunkz groaned. 

"Bro" Chunkz said.

Aj finally turned to look at him, expression not unkind, just deeply unimpressed.

"Listen" Aj said. 

"I'm not judging you. I am, however, wondering how long you're gonna keep acting like no one else sees it" Aj added.

"Sees what?" Chunkz asked.

"The fact that you're basically Sharky's unpaid boyfriend" Aj said as he deadpanned.

Chunkz let out a dry, shocked laugh. 

"You're so annoying" Chunkz said.

"Tell me I'm wrong" Aj said as he shrugged.

Chunkz said nothing. Aj leaned in, quieter now.

"You're doing things for him without thinking. Watching him like you're waiting to breathe when he does. Acting normal but vibrating at weird frequencies when he's near" Aj said.

"Not true" Chunkz muttered.

"Chunkz. You folded his socks yesterday" Aj said as his brows lifted.

"It was in the laundry--!" Chunkz defended himself.

Aj didn't even blink. 

"You folded. His. Socks. You jokeman" Aj said.

Silence.

Then, after a long moment, Aj sighed. 

"Look, I get it. You're not built for rash moves. You like knowing the terrain before stepping in" Aj said.

"But just so you know... if you wait too long, someone is gonna step in. Sharky's a lot of things, but invisible's not one of them. And people notice him" Aj added as he looked back at the stars.

A pause.

"They already do" Aj added.

Chunkz's chest pulled tight.

"So either stop doing everything but confessing or start praying the next person who likes his smile isn't faster than you" Aj finished, gently but firm.

He patted Chunkz on the arm once, like a football coach sending him into the game.

Then walked back inside.

Leaving Chunkz alone with the breeze, the stars, and a head full of thunder.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The van rolled down the gravel path, tires crunching beneath them like the sound of something ending.

The cabin shrank behind a curtain of pines, woodsmoke fading, windows still catching the sun in glints. Morning light spilled through the van's dusty glass, catching particles in the air like glitter someone forgot to clean up. 

The engine hummed low, steady. The laughter had quieted since they pulled away. There was tiredness now and resignation, the kind that always lingered at the end of a trip that felt too short.

Sharky sat by the window again. Same seat as before.

But the air felt different now. Not louder. Not heavier.

Just fuller.

Like something that had grown between then and now.

He had his hood up, headphones in but no music played. He hadn't bothered to press play. His phone screen stayed black, and his thumb just tapped against it rhythmically like it was keeping time with his breath.

He wore Chunkz's hoodie. Still smelled like him. Warm, a little sweet, familiar.

He didn't ask to keep it when he borrowed it last night. He just didn't give it back.

And Chunkz hadn't asked for it.

That said enough.

The van hit a bump and jostled slightly, Sharky shifted with it, gaze fixed out the window. Trees zipped past in streaks of green and gold. His reflection shimmered faintly against the glass, layered over the world blurring outside.

He looked at it for a second too long.

Eyes under-shadowed by the hood. Jaw clenched like he was chewing on something he didn't know how to swallow. Something stormy flickered behind his gaze.

Fight or flight.

He didn't even know which one he was bracing for anymore.

Behind him, the laughter came again light and effortless.

Chunkz.

Seated directly behind Sharky. Close enough that if he reached up, he could touch his shoulder through the seat.

But he didn't.

Chunkz was mid-conversation with Niko. Something about snacks. Something about Kenny being banned from the aux forever.

His voice, God, his voice still carried that familiar blend of smooth confidence and casual tease. But there was an edge to it today.

Barely there.

But Sharky heard it.

The little lilt in his laugh that didn't quite ring all the way to the end. The way he spoke a little louder than usual like trying to convince himself nothing had changed. Like filling space before the silence said something he wasn't ready to hear.

And Sharky knew that tone.

He knew it.

Because he used it too. Nobody said anything. Not about the hoodie.

Not about the way Sharky hadn't spoken since getting in the van.

Not about the way Chunkz kept looking up like he was checking.

Just checking.

Sharky caught it once.

Saw it reflected in the glass, the way Chunkz leaned ever so slightly forward in his seat, eyes landing on him with a softness that didn't match his voice.

It startled something in his chest. Made him shift.

He didn't turn around.

Didn't speak.

Just adjusted the hoodie around his fingers, gripping the sleeves tighter like they could anchor him in place.

They drove on.

Kenny started snoring with his mouth open. Aj was pretending not to take a photo of it. Niko popped a gum into his mouth and offered one to Chunkz without looking.

The van moved.

The world kept spinning.

And nothing was said.

But the chemistry? God, the chemistry hung between them like second skin.

Lived in the silence.

Built in the glances that were too short to be caught, but too long to be forgotten.

Woven into the threads of the hoodie Sharky wore.

Ghosted across the missed opportunities, the touches that almost happened, the words that never made it out of their throats.

It was there.

Thick in the air.

Unspoken.

Unresolved.

And so loud it hurt.

Sharky kept staring out the window. Kept his hands hidden in the sleeves.

But his mind ran miles. All he could think was.

If you'd just say something, I'd break.

And behind him, Chunkz leaned back in his seat, lips pressed tight behind another easy laugh and stared at the back of Sharky's head like it held all the answers he wasn't brave enough to ask for yet.

 

////_////_////_////

 

The morning after the cabin trip was weirdly quiet.

Sunlight filtered in through gauzy curtains, warming the living room with a soft gold glow that felt too gentle for the kind of chaos that had settled just under the surface. The kind of chaos that brewed in looks not exchanged, in feelings not confessed, in the unspoken ache that hovered every time Sharky and Chunkz existed in the same room.

Which was, as fate would have it, now.

Sharky was curled on the far end of the couch, oversized hoodie sleeves tugged down to his knuckles. His hood was up, Chunkz's hoodie, not that anyone dared say it aloud but it wasn't lost on the right people. 

His phone screen cast a faint blue glow over his face as he scrolled, expression unreadable. Every few moments, his thumb paused, like he forgot what he was looking at. Like his brain was somewhere else entirely.

Across the room, near the kitchen, Niko and Aj were huddled together like two scheming drama club girls plotting prom sabotage. Niko was sipping cold coffee like it gave him access to government secrets, while Aj leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes trained across the room.

"He's not gonna say it unless someone forces him" Aj muttered, eyes flicking between Sharky and Chunkz.

"Yeah, and Chunkz? Bro's too chill. Too confident. He doesn't even realize Sharky's spiraling" Niko said as he took another sip, then winced. 

"This coffee is actually evil. Why does it taste like that?" Niko added.

Aj ignored that. 

"It's like he thinks he's got all the time in the world" Aj said.

Niko scoffed.

 "He doesn't. Sharky's gonna shut down eventually. That hoodie isn't just for warmth. That's a full emotional bunker" Niko said.

They both glanced back again, just in time to see Chunkz enter the room, towel around his shoulders, clearly fresh out of the shower. He was laughing at something George had shouted from down the hall, but true to form his gaze drifted, almost on instinct, toward the couch.

Toward Sharky.

He didn't say anything. Just looked. A pause long enough for it to mean something. Sharky didn't glance up, but he stiffened. Just slightly. His thumb stopped scrolling again.

Aj exhaled.

"What if we make him jealous?" Aj muttered.

Niko blinked. 

"Jealous? You trying to get someone killed?" Niko asked.

"No, listen-- just enough to poke the beast. Make him realize he doesn't have all day. That someone else could come along and actually say the things he won't" Aj said.

"And who exactly is brave enough to flirt with Sharky knowingly without combusting from secondhand awkwardness?" Niko asked as he raised a brow.

They both turned their heads in perfect, synchronized silence as the door opened and Kenny walked in, carrying a large tote bag full of snacks and a bottle of orange juice between his teeth.

"Morning" Kenny mumbled through the cap, setting everything down on the coffee table. 

"Why are you two looking at me like that?" Kenny asked.

Aj and Niko shared a look.

"Oi Kenny" Niko said, straightening. 

"You feel like doing something deeply stupid for a good cause?" Niko asked.

Kenny blinked. 

"Why do I feel like I'm being drafted?" Kenny asked.

"You are" Aj replied solemnly. 

"And your country needs you" Aj added.

"Define 'country'" Kenny asked.

"Sharky" Niko said.

That made Kenny freeze.

He blinked. Then blinked again. 

"What?!" Kenny asked.

"Here's the situation" Niko whispered, already gesturing like they were planning a heist. 

"Sharky likes Chunkz. Chunkz likes Sharky. But both of them are stuck playing this emotional dodgeball like they're allergic to feelings" Niko said.

"Very allergic" Aj said as he nodded.

"And we, the brave, selfless, and geniuses have decided to break the loop" Aj added.

"So what, I'm supposed to flirt with Sharky and hope Chunkz gets jealous?" Kenn asked as he frowned.

"Exactly" Niko said brightly. 

"Nothing serious. Just light, innocent, banter" Niko added.

"Have you met me?" Kenny asked as he snorted. 

"I might be the least seductive person in this room" Kenny said.

Aj smirked. 

"Which makes it even better. You'll come off harmless enough to Sharky and mildly threatening to Chunkz. It's the perfect balance" Aj said.

"Also, Sharky likes you" Niko said. 

"Not like likes likes you, don't get excited. But he trusts you" Niko added.

Kenny stared.

Aj clapped him on the shoulder. 

"Just be a bit charming. Maybe tell him he's looking extra fine as hell and act like you're about to lips him"

"Fine, fine but if Chunkz breaks my jaw, I'm haunting you" Kenny said.

"Fair" Niko said. 

"I'll leave snacks on your grave" Niko added.

Kenny turned slowly toward the couch.

Sharky was still there, knees to his chest, phone screen long gone dim. He looked tired. Like the weight of everything that wasn't being said was sitting on his shoulders. Kenny took a breath, cracked his knuckles, and strode forward.

The first few steps were casual. He grabbed the snacks again, dropped one onto Sharky's lap.

"Oi, you eat yet?" Kenny asked.

Sharky blinked, glancing down at the bag of spicy chips. 

"...No?" Sharky asked.

"Didn't think so" Kenny said as he dropped next to him on the couch, close but not too close, already pulling open a pack of cookies for himself. 

"You looked too pretty to be bothered" Kenny said.

Sharky stared at him. Then stared harder.

Then turned his whole face away, hand coming up to hide half his cheek. 

"What the hell?" Sharky asked.

"What? I'm just saying facts"  Kenny said as he grinned.

Behind them, there was a clink. Chunkz, mid-sip of water, had definitely just choked on it.

Aj and Niko, back by the kitchen, tried their best not to cackle like evil masterminds.

Sharky peeked up at Kenny through his lashes, a hint of pink creeping into his ears. 

"You high or just weird today?" Sharky asked with a small laugh.

"I dunno" Kenny said thoughtfully. 

"Could be the weather. Could be you in that hoodie" Kenny added.

Sharky choked on air this time.

 "Bro--" Sharky said.

Behind them, Chunkz's water bottle hit the table a little too loudly.

He didn't say anything, but his eyes was sharp, narrowed, and trained on the couch like it spoke volumes. He looked like he was trying to solve a crime scene made entirely of feelings.

"We got movement" Aj said as he leaned over to Niko.

"Oh yeah, Kenny's dying" Niko whispered back. 

 

////_////_////_////

 

The group had barely been home for twelve hours but Sharky was already back on his nonsense.

The sun filtered weakly through the windows of the flat, curtains half-drawn, a lazy post-trip stillness hanging in the air. Everyone was scattered, some unpacking, some pretending to, others scrolling their phones like they hadn't just been trapped in a cabin together marinating in unsaid feelings and barely-there glances.

But Sharky?

Sharky was propped on the arm of the couch, hair a little messy, hoodie still stolen from Chunkz of course, and phone in hand, already in full-blown influencer mode. The front camera was on. So was the chaos.

He hit record.

"Back from the woods. Somehow alive" Sharky mumbled dramatically into the mic, eyes half-lidded in the way he knew fans loved. 

"We made it out. Barely. I still don't trust Aj in a kitchen" Sharky added.

From behind the camera frame, Kenny strolled in holding a banana in each hand like nunchucks.

"Look at this absolute menace" Sharky continued, tilting the camera toward Kenny.

Kenny smirked, playing it up for the camera. 

"Don't act like you didn't cry when I made you tea last night" Kenny said.

"Bro, it was just warm water and vibes" Sharky said.

Kenny leaned in suddenly dramatically, cartoonishly, chin tilted and eyes fluttering. 

"Come here then, my sweet prince" Kenny said.

"Get outta here, man!" Sharky said as he yelped, dodging fast enough to shake the camera.

The camera caught a blurry freeze-frame of Kenny's grin, Sharky's horrified laughter, and the two of them locked in that ridiculous, chaotic energy that always bordered on too close. The kind that made fans question things.

He posted it anyway. Captioned "He's unwell. Pray for me"

Minutes later, Instagram blew up. The story was reposted within five minutes, Sharky's notifications buzzing like flies on a carcass.

Then Kenny, never one to waste an opportunity had slid into the comments under Sharky's latest post

@kingkennytv: Congrats my baby 

The comments spiraled instantly with fans screaming, mutuals instigating, and Sharky definitely regretting his entire social media presence.

But then came the real chaos.

Later that afternoon, a second story went up. This time Kenny had the camera. Sharky was dancing to some random tiktok audio, doing his usual stupid little routine in the kitchen. And somewhere in the middle, he pointed dramatically at Kenny and shouted.

"If this man breathes near me one more time I'm calling HR--- wait. We're self-employed. Shit"

Then, lower, as an afterthought.

"Also, Kenny got soft hands. Like why is that allowed?" Sharky said.

"You want me to stop hugging you?" Kenny asked.

"...shut up man" Sharky said. 

The soft hands line ended up trending for three hours. Fans began shipping them under the chaotic hashtag #Shenny. It was a disaster. Sharky loved it.

Except.

Chunkz had watched it all from the hallway, half-hidden from view, sipping tea he didn't even want. His face unreadable. His chest tight.

He'd seen Kenny's arm around Sharky earlier. Seen the way Sharky didn't pull away fast. Seen the easy laughter, the casual affection that shouldn't bother him but absolutely did.

And when Sharky uploaded another clip, this one of him and Kenny mock-arguing about who had better side profiles while Sharky zoomed in on his own. Chunkz tapped through the story too fast, like it burned.

Then later that evening, group hangout. Everyone half-tired. Netflix on.

Kenny had Sharky in a headlock for absolutely no reason, and Sharky was squirming in mock pain, laughing, red-faced and shouting something ridiculous.

Chunkz, from across the room, finally spoke.

"Man, Kenny, you touch Sharky more than you touch your own damn phone" Chunkz said.

"Maybe I'm loyal" Kenny said as he grinned.

"To chaos" Sharky said.

"To him" Kenny said.

The room "oooh"-ed "Yep, crazy" "Mental" like a bad high school hallway.

Sharky threw a pillow at Kenny, who caught it dramatically, bowed.

"He loves me really" Kenny said.

And for a second, Sharky caught Chunkz's gaze. Just a flicker. A moment and suddenly, the joke didn't feel as fun.

Not when his stomach twisted like that. Not when he remembered the silence in the van. The way Chunkz had been laughing with Niko while Sharky sat in front, hoodie up, biting his tongue.

Because all of this? The posts, the flirting, the mess?

It was for the fans.

But he was watching for one person only. And he wasn't sure that person was watching him back.

Notes:

Hello lovelies!!! I have no note for today and also, this book is nearly ending.

AYO, I love shenny but I love shunkz even more :))))