Beside me | ONESHOTs

Jesse

I've never been the type to enjoy parties, but tonight was different. It was our college's celebration for achieving bachelor's degrees—not just for my faculty of medicine, but for all the faculties. I hadn't earned my bachelor's yet; my path led to a medical degree after six years, assuming I didn't fail. But it was a mass celebration for surviving three years of collage, so even we medical students were invited.

"Hey, wanna go together if you don't have anyone else to go with?" I asked that evening as Aaron and I were getting ready. We attended the same college, though we were in different departments.

"You don't have any friends?" he teased, tilting his head as he buttoned up his baby-blue shirt. His hair was still damp, and his face was flushed from the steam of his shower. He looked so delicate, almost childlike. I still couldn't understand how a 22-year-old guy could look so young. It was hard to believe we were the same age.

"Yeah," I nodded, not bothering to deny it. "And if I do, I'm not aware of their existence." I finished buttoning my black shirt. It was kind of funny how we both wore shirts to any official event, even the casual ones. But we were both terrible at ironing, so they never looked as good as we wanted. Who knew ironing could be so difficult?

"Poor them," he said, making an exaggeratedly pitiful face and pouting his naturally full lips. They looked so velvety. How would they feel if I touched them? Soft and sweet like marshmallows? Warm?

Stop it. He's not your boyfriend—you shouldn't be thinking things like this. It's inappropriate.

He shrugged and added, "But fine, why not? We're heading to the same place anyway. Just don't expect me to sit next to you—I'm getting wasted and don't wanna be near to you."

I tried to straighten my shirt, but my clothes never cooperated enough for me to look perfect. "Drinking too much isn't healthy."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Aye, aye, Mr. Doctor. But don't tell me you're not planning to have at least a few drinks?"

I shook my head. "I don't like drinking, I'm not a fan of big events, and I don't like people in general. Alcohol would only trigger my social phobia." I meant every word. I didn't joke often, maybe never, and when I did, it was unintentional. But for some reason, Aaron laughed anyway.

Like now. He didn't say anything, just burst into louder laughter when he saw my confused expression. Fine. Sigh. I didn't even have the energy to wonder what was going on in his head.

By the time we finally headed out, it was already dark. Who said bachelor's parties had to be held during summer? We were celebrating at the beginning of December. I actually love the cold, the darkness, the kind of depressing weather—it's relaxing for an introvert like me. Honestly, I wasn't even sure why I was going to a party. Maybe I was possessed by some fool who actually liked socializing.

When we arrived, we separated to join our own departments. Why sit next to each other when he'd clearly said he didn't want to be around me? But for some reason, I felt uneasy. Like something was going to happen to Aaron, and I didn't want to lose sight of him. So, I intentionally picked a seat where I could watch him.

My classmates were annoyingly loud, and a few tried to make conversation until I brushed them off. They probably thought I was a jerk, but I really am scared of people. Only my family and Aaron are exceptions because I've known them forever. My eyes kept wandering back to Aaron—his laughing face, his bright eyes, the way his tongue darted out to lick his lips.

I gulped.

I didn't know how much time passed—minutes, maybe hours. But I was captivated by him. How had I never noticed that he had a tiny dimple? Or how he seemed smaller next to his classmates?

As the night wore on, an irritation began to build in me. Aaron was drunk now, and one of his classmates had an arm around his shoulders, whispering something in his ear while Aaron giggled. Why was I feeling so irritated? Was it the crowd? No... it was something else.

Then I saw Aaron whisper something back to that guy, his lips so close to his ear. My fists clenched. And then, they both stood up, Aaron swaying on his feet from the alcohol, and together, they disappeared from the bar area.

As time went on, I felt a strange irritation building inside me. Aaron was drunk, and one of his classmates had an arm around his shoulders, whispering something in his ear while Aaron giggled. Why am I feeling this irritated? Was it the crowd? No... it was something else.

Then Aaron leaned in, whispering back to the guy, his lips so close to his ear. My fists clenched. But that wasn't all. They both stood up, Aaron staggering as he swayed on his feet, and then they vanished from the bar area.

It felt odd. The other guy wasn't even Aaron's typical type—the usual "bottom." He was...

The thought of that man topping Aaron made my heart skip a beat. I could picture him aggressively kissing Aaron, biting his lips, and Aaron, drunk and unfocused, moaning in that mix of pain and pleasure. I imagined them tearing off each other's clothes, that guy violently taking him. The sound of slapping flesh, the wet noise from Aaron's hole-

I stood up, unable to sit still. Normally, I didn't care when Aaron was hooking up with someone—but now? I couldn't even bear the thought of him with anyone else. Why? What was happening to me? Was I losing it? Starting to go crazy? When he brought his hookups to our apartment, I never felt this irritated. Was it because he was always the one in control, never the one being taken? Why… why was I even thinking about that? It's not like I wanted to be the only one who could see his face in those moments, when he was the one being penetrated…

Shit.

Without thinking, I pushed through the crowd, my eyes scanning the dimly lit corridors leading off the main bar. I couldn't just let him disappear with that guy—any guy. My mind was racing, and I couldn't tell if it was anger, jealousy, or something I wasn't ready to name. All I knew was that I couldn't ignore it—unless I wanted it to devour me whole.

After a few minutes of searching, I finally found them near the back exit. And my breath stopped.

The guy had Aaron pressed against the wall. It would have been one thing if he'd just been holding him, leaning in close—but no. That man was claiming Aaron's lips as if it were his right, his arms wrapped possessively around Aaron's slim body, his own body glued to Aaron's as he hungrily rubbed against him.

But what hurt the most? It was Aaron's rapid breathing, the occasional quiet moans slipping from his gasping lips, his hands resting willingly on the guy's back. He was obviously enjoying himself, letting himself be dominated by someone else—a guy who wasn't me.

Wait... do I even have the right to feel this way? To want to be the one claiming Aaron? I'm nothing to him. Just a roommate. So why am I feeling like this now?

I tried to convince myself that Aaron was too intoxicated, that he wasn't thinking straight, to comfort myself a little. There was no time to hesitate anymore. If I didn't want him going to fuck with that guy, I had to interrupt their sweet time and get Aaron out of here.

I moved forward, heart pounding, and without a word, I grabbed Aaron's shoulder, pulling him away as I pushed the other guy back. Aaron stumbled slightly, blinking up at me with glazed eyes, clearly startled. The guy turned to me, his face twisting with irritation. He was tall, taller than me—but I'm not the type to be intimidated by height. I easily ignored him, focusing instead on taking care of my Aa... my roommate.

"Hey, who do you think you are?" he snapped, but I ignored him, keeping my focus on Aaron.

"Hey, Aaron," I said quietly, tightening my grip on his arm as I looked into his barely focused eyes. "Let's go. You've had enough."

Aaron's gaze softened when he finally recognized me, and he let out a weak laugh. "Jesse… what are you doing here?" His words were slurred, and his hand reached up, grasping the front of my shirt as if it were the only thing holding him steady. I would've laughed at his disoriented movements in any other situation—but not now.

"I'm taking you home," I murmured, barely hearing myself over the rush of my pulse.

The guy tried to intervene again, but I threw him a look that must've conveyed enough warning, because he backed off, grumbling. I smirked inwardly. Trying to win against me, buddy? Not a chance.

With one arm around Aaron's waist, I led him out of the club, his body leaning heavily against mine.

The cold air hit us as we stepped outside, and Aaron shivered, pressing closer to me. His face was buried against my shoulder, his warm breath against my neck, and suddenly, every nerve in my body was on edge. I gulped.

He tilted his head up, his eyes hazy but searching my face with an unexpected intensity.

"Jesse," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "Why… did you come for me?"

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. I could feel the warmth of his body, his unsteady breath, the way he looked at me like he was waiting for an answer that would explain everything. He looked like an adorable puppy. I couldn't help but feel my heart melt, washing away my irritation and insecurity. Now he was with me, in my arms—and nobody could take him away from me.

"Because…" I began, then hesitated, my voice faltering. The words felt lodged in my throat, and I couldn't bring myself to say what I was really feeling. Because I need you. I need you to look only at me, to touch only me, to moan only for me, to let me hear your gasping voice and breathless panting after I'd kissed you. I wanted to say it all, but instead, I chickened out, replacing my confession with a lie I wished were true. "Because you needed me."

He blinked, his hand still gripping my shirt. But, surprisingly, instead of ridicule, he whimpered softly, like an actual puppy.

"Then… stay close," he whispered, resting his head against my shoulder, his hands circling my arm. He looked abandoned, miserable, lonely, and I wished I could kiss him, hug him, make him feel better.

But all I actually did was silently walk him home, his grip on me unrelenting. Halfway there, he fell asleep, so I lifted him onto my back and carried him the rest of the way.

Once we were home, I slipped off our shoes and laid him gently in his bed. I turned to leave, but his hand caught my wrist.

"Where are you going, Jesse?" he asked, his voice small and uncertain, almost as if he were afraid to be alone.

"Shh," I hummed, rubbing his cheek lightly before running my fingers through his soft hair. "I'm not going anywhere. Want me to stay and hold you until you fall asleep?" I realized I was treating him like a kid—but he looked so vulnerable, and it was irresistibly endearing.

He nodded. "Yeah. I want to feel your warmth."

I chuckled softly, climbed into bed beside him, and pulled him close against my chest. "Sweet dreams, sweetie," I whispered, not even trying to sound normal. Maybe my brain was evolving into some kind of lovestruck fungus. But who cares? He won't even remember this… only I will.

His eyes widened in surprise. "W-What did you just say?"

I grinned. "Sweetie?"

Unexpectedly, his eyes grew even bigger. "Why...? Do you… like me?"

"Sleep. We'll talk tomorrow when you're sober, alright?"

He grunted in annoyance but snuggled closer, not pressing any further.

"Sweet dreams, Jesse," he murmured.

I couldn't help but wonder, How am I going to explain all of this to him tomorrow?