Beside me | ONESHOTs

Aaron

I woke up with a dull ache in my head, feeling groggy and disoriented as the morning light streamed in through the window. Gosh, how much did I drink? How did I even end up in my room? Did someone carry me?

As the morning haze lifted, I started to become aware of another presence behind me. I tried to pull myself upright in a rush of panic, but an arm was wrapped around me, warm and steady, holding me in place.

Wait...

I turned my head and found myself staring directly at Jesse, still asleep, his arm draped protectively over me. My mind raced, fragments of last night flashing through my memory. The party, the drinks, Jesse finding me outside... everything was fuzzy, but I remembered leaning on him, and—oh God—did I ask him to stay close? To hold me? How could I have done that? And why had he gone along with my stupid requests?

For the first time in a while, I felt embarrassment creeping over me. My neck, cheeks, and ears began to burn.

I tried to ease out of his hold, but his arm tightened around me, his brows knitting together even in his sleep. The tenderness in his grip made my heart pound in a way that felt... different. Confusing. And so good that I didn't want to lose the sensation, this fullness in my heart that I wished would never fade.

My mind was torn between a desire to stay right where I was, relishing the comfort of his warmth, and opposite of it was a panicked urge to jump up and act like this hadn't happened. But his arm still held me firmly, and I could feel his steady breathing, the rhythm almost lulling me back to sleep.

Just as I was about to close my eyes again, Jesse shifted, his arm loosening slightly, and I felt him stirring. My heart skipped a beat. He's waking up.

I quickly shut my eyes, feigning sleep, hoping I wouldn't give away the strange swirl of emotions running through me. I felt him go still, probably taking in our position, and then he slowly pulled his arm back. For a moment, I wanted to reach out, to pull his arm back over me.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice soft, like he wasn't sure what to say.

I opened my eyes slowly, meeting his gaze. So he didn't fall for my miserable attempt at acting, huh? "Morning," I replied, feeling the heat return to my cheeks. I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual. "Uh... did I... say anything weird last night?"

He sat up and looked down at me, his gaze unreadable, as if he were deep in thought. Then a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, his eyes softening into something warm. I'd never seen him smile so gently—if I'd ever really seen him smile at all. He was always kind of cold and distant, his expression set in that typical lax, unbothered look.

"Nothing too bad," he replied lightly, but I could tell he was holding something back. So I did do something weird, I thought, but maybe it was just the hugging thing and nothing more.

Jesse must've noticed my confused expression because he let out a soft chuckle, and my heart tightened in response.

"You're a mess when you're drunk, you know?" he teased, his voice gentle, almost reassuring. The tension eased a bit, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us. Lying there, looking up at him, I knew that whatever this was, "just roommates" was no longer enough.

"Stay still," he said, climbing carefully over me to stand up. "I'll bring you something for the hangover—banana smoothie? Coffee? Chicken broth? Some fruit juice? What can you handle without throwing up?"

It was amusing, seeing this side of him. I knew he was caring, but I'd always been too busy provoking him to see him act so gently. This kind of attention, this way of being cared for... it was beautiful.

"Soup, please. I had chicken breast for lunch yesterday," I said. I'd actually planned ahead, knowing I'd have a hangover, and made sure I'd have ingredients ready because I hate fast food delivery.

"Alright. Rest up," he replied and left for cooking.

I made myself comfortable again, pressing my face into the pillow where Jesse had been lying. It emitted a familiar, comforting scent that I could breathe in all day without getting tired of it. I'd known Jesse's fragrance for a long time, but I'd never had the chance to feel it so closely and intensely. It was so soothing it made me sleepy all over again. Am I getting softer? Why am I starting to act more and more foolishly? Is it because I've finally admitted to myself that I'm attracted to my roommate?

Jesse is someone I've known for over two decades—someone who's seen me at my worst, someone I've hurt. Someone I know I can trust completely, because he's not the type to even talk to people, let alone share secrets. Back in high school, I used to be his errand boy, handing over love letters and gifts from the countless admirers who had a crush on him. He always seemed unbothered by my presence, but every time something happened to me, he was the first one there, ready to help. He doesn't show it, but I know he has a soft heart. And that makes me feel even more special when he chooses to be around me, even when he barely spares others a glance. For me, though, he cares.

Jesse is hot, cute, and someone I can relax around. He knows all about my playboy antics. And suddenly, I find myself regretting it all.

Because now I realize I don't just like him—I love him. I love him deeply. And now I know he's also gay.

But for a long time, I was so lonely, so frustrated, so desperate for his attention. Maybe I wanted him to be more aware of me. I wanted him to think only of me, even if that meant he'd find me annoying and untrustworthy in a romantic sense.

But I think… it worked. If it hadn't, he wouldn't look at me the way he does now, right?

My cheeks felt warm, so I burrowed deeper into the covers, letting out a quiet squeal, like some kind of teenage fangirl. Sigh. I'm just not used to this sweet side of him, and I can't help but blush. Me, the playboy—blushing from a small show of affection from my crush.

Gah. Stop it, stupid brain.

I tried to stop my thoughts from spiraling, focusing instead on the sounds coming from the kitchen. I'd heard him making sounds like this plenty of times, living together and all, but now it felt different. Now, every clatter and hum was for me. To take care of me, to make me feel better.

The sounds from the kitchen stopped, and I heard Jesse's footsteps approaching. I tried to look casual, but the second he stepped into the room, carrying the bowl of soup, I knew I'd failed. He caught me staring, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was odd, seeing him show so many expressions in just the hour I'd been awake.

"Soup delivery," he said, setting the bowl on the nightstand. He stood there, gaze intense, like he had something to say but wasn't sure how to start.

"Thanks, Jesse," I said, feeling strangely shy.

He shrugged, glancing down. "Yeah, well. Someone's got to keep you alive, right?"

We both laughed (well, I did—he just chuckled quietly), but the tension between us lingered, thick and charged.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at me, his expression softening, like he'd finally decided to say something he'd been holding back.

"Aaron," he began, his voice even deeper than usual, "I need to tell you something, and I know it might not make any sense, but… just hear me out, alright?"

I nodded, my heart pounding. I didn't want to get my hopes up, but the way he looked at me forced me to hope for…

"You've always been a mess," he started, saying something that would normally have me throwing back a playful, vulgar response. "But I didn't mind. Partly because I knew you'd never really change, and partly because I didn't want you to." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "But last night, when I saw you with someone so different from your usual type… I realized I couldn't stand it. I couldn't let anyone else devour you. I thought… it's only my place. I want it to be me."

He took a breath, his gaze steady. "I know you've acted like… well, someone cheap, but I liked you anyway. I still like you. I like how I can talk to you without feeling nervous, how I feel when I see you… even just eating." His cheeks reddened a little, and he looked away for a moment before continuing. "I want to kiss you, to be close to you. So… I think I've liked you—in a romantic way—for a long time."

I stared, my breath catching. Did he just say what I think he said? I'm not hallucinating, right?

He chuckled softly, looking a little out of his comfort zone. "Look, I'm terrible at this, and I know you're used to hearing a million confessions, but… I need you to know I'm serious." He reached out, gently brushing my cheek before taking my hand. "I don't want to stay just roommates—I want more. I want to be able to say you're my man, to tell people we're not just friends but boyfriends." He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss to the back of it. "I want to date you, Aaron."

My face grew warm, my heart racing as his words sank in. How could something like this even come from his lips? He's not some kind of fairy-tale prince, is he? How could he speak so irresistibly?

"You…" I started, struggling to find my voice. "Are you… serious?" I needed to hear it again. I couldn't believe it. Until yesterday, I thought we could never be together—that was why I'd gotten drunk. But now…

His gaze held mine, his fingers tightening around my hand as he pressed another gentle kiss to it, a soft smile on his lips. "I fell in love with you, Aaron. I want you to be my one and only. Will you be my boyfriend? My love? Will you put up with this hopeless, socially awkward lovestruck fool?"

I wanted to nod, to say something, but the words died on my lips. To hell with words—I didn't have the patience. Instead, I grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him close, capturing his lips with mine and savoring the warmth and tenderness I'd been yearning for. He was so warm, so soft.

He let out a surprised inhale, but after a brief moment of shock, he kissed me back, wrapping his arms around me, pulling us even closer.

At first, our lips met softly, tentatively, but that quickly dissolved as a rush of heat and need took over. His hand slipped to my waist, pulling me even closer, and I felt his body press against mine—warm, steady, strong—as though he'd wanted this as much as I had. For the first time, I felt a fullness in being wanted, a sensation that lit up every inch of me.

Jesse's breath hitched, and suddenly, the kiss deepened. He bit my lip softly, then traced his tongue along it, silently asking for more. I didn't hesitate.

How does he kiss so well when this is his first? I'd thought I'd be the one in control, but his eagerness and intensity overwhelmed me in the best way. And for the first time, I wanted him to dominate. I enjoyed being on the receiving end with him, and it was… intoxicating.

My hands roamed over his shoulders, feeling the strength in them, while his grip on my waist tightened, grounding us both as we got lost in each other. His fingers slid up my spine, the touch so electric it sent a shiver through me. I gasped, and he took advantage, his lips moving over mine with a teasing intensity that left me breathless.

As we kissed, I felt myself tilting back, his weight pressing over me as he followed, one hand slipping under my shirt, his fingertips grazing my skin and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I clung to him, feeling every inch of him pressed against me as we tumbled onto the bed together. His mouth left mine, trailing down my jaw, his warm breath against my neck making my pulse race.

"Aaron…" he murmured, his voice husky, barely a whisper against my skin. My heart pounded, and a soft moan escaped me as he pressed kisses along my neck, his mouth hot and insistent. My hands explored his back, pulling him closer, feeling his body mold perfectly against mine.

But just as the heat between us reached a fever pitch, Jesse paused, his breathing ragged as he pulled back slightly, his face inches from mine. His gaze was dark with longing, yet gentle, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"We should slow down," he whispered, brushing a thumb over my cheek. "You need to eat something first."

I blinked, dazed and breathless, reluctant to let go. "Are you serious?"

He chuckled, his hand still resting against my waist, steadying both of us. "You'll need your strength for later," he teased, planting one last kiss on my lips before sitting up. "Soup first, then we can pick up where we left off."

I laughed, reluctantly letting him pull away, but the warmth lingered, and I knew this was only the beginning of us.