Henry

Things were bound to be different, and I knew that going into this. However, I was holding onto the hope that this would be a good change and not one that would make me regret my decision. As I gestured for Chandler to enter my apartment, I let out a slightly weary sigh as I closed the door behind him.

It felt so odd; so different. The thing is, Chan had been to my apartment hundreds of times and vice versa. We often ate together, lounged around on the weekends, and he even ended up crashing on my couch most of the time. This was different, though.

He wasn't going to be leaving the next morning or asking me for permission to stay the night. He was always welcome, and I was always sure to remind him of that. However, my home was both of ours for now. The thought alone sparked a flame of excitement deep in my stomach as I tried not to let my mind wander too much.

As excited as I was for this new journey, a part of me was worried. What if he gets sick of me? What if he starts to think that I'm only good in small doses? What if I do something that jeopardizes all of the hard work we've been putting into this friendship for so many years? I was snapped out of my thoughts when Chandler set his duffle bags next to the couch and looked around absentmindedly.

"Um...where should I put my stuff?" He had a gentle smile on his face, like he wouldn't dare let the quirk of his lips fall in the slightest. It was so nice seeing him content like this outside of the confines of that horrendously bland hospital room.

"You can use the other side of my closet." I started to wander down the hall to my bedroom, knowing he would try to interject, "I have a double closet, remember? I only really use one side, anyways."

Seconds later, tentative footsteps sounded from behind me, picking up the pace until they stopped at my heels. I strode over to my closet and opened the doors, revealing the empty side to the tall man and offering to take one of his bags.

When I turned around, though, he was no longer standing there. Instead, he was plopped down on my bed, arms and legs spread dramatically around him. I shook my head fondly and let out a small, breathy chuckle.

"Lazy ass." I mumbled, grabbing his duffle bags and lugging them over to the bed where I zipped them open and started to unpack them one by one.

Every time I would spare a glance at the goofy man laid out on my bed, he would snap his eyes shut and pretend to be asleep. He even added fake, obnoxious snores to prove his point. I smacked him lightly on the arm and felt my cheeks flush as his stare bore into my face as I worked on getting him unpacked.

When I looked down at him again, he didn't bother closing his eyes. He just laid there, head propped up on an elbow that revealed his bulging biceps and the veins running through them. He watched me with a look in his eye that was slightly heavier than observant. He looked curious with a hint of something else that I couldn't quite place my finger on. I was too focused on making sure it didn't appear that I had looked to inquire any further.

I was hanging up one of his sweaters that I secretly adored on him when I heard the faint squeak of my mattress and quiet movement from behind me. I didn't think much of it, assuming he had to use the restroom or was leaving to get a snack.

All of a sudden, an unmistakable warmth radiated from just behind me. I swallowed, my ears surely going red with how flushed I suddenly felt. Chandler's breath tickled my neck and covered my skin in a blanket of goosebumps.

I cursed myself mentally as I shivered. He was probably about to crack up, joking about how easy it was to mess with me. Instead, I felt his long, strong arms wrap around my middle and pull me into his chest from behind.

My breath caught in my throat, hands freezing where I had them raised to smooth down over the sweater I'd hung up.

"Henry," his voice was low and gravelly as his lips felt close enough to my pulse point that I could scream, "thank you for doing this- for letting me stay with you. You really didn't have to, but you did."

I let my eyes fall shut for a moment, trying not to think about how he stood at least an entire head taller than me, and how hard and warm his chest and stomach felt as my back was pulled flush against it.

"You don't have to thank me." I risked losing my composure completely and turned my head just enough for our eyes to meet, "You can always count on me, Chan."

For a moment, his face was blank. His eyes were flitting all around my face before settling back on my own. He seemed to be looking for something, but the more he scrutinized me, the more flustered I became. His mind seemed to be going a mile a minute, but before I could say anything more, he seemed to snap out of his thoughts.

He stepped back, took in a deep breath, and allowed a tiny smile to bloom onto his full lips. He patted the top of my head gently and turned back around like nothing had even happened. Instead of throwing himself back onto my bed, he pulled the last few remaining items from his duffle bag and started to hang them up himself.

I tried not to feel disappointed at the lack of his warmth against me. It only lasted a moment, but I could still feel him on my skin. My flesh burned hot where he'd been touching me, and my cheeks were surely redder than a ripened cherry.

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I cleared my throat and scratched the back of my neck, my nerves still shot from our little interaction that took place just moments prior. It was pathetic how affected I was by anything he did. He didn't even have to be looking at me; I was always so whipped. Moments like that, though, were what really got to me.

The times where he would hug me for just a second longer than usual, or cuddle me just a little closer when we watched a movie on my couch, or when his gaze would linger just a second longer than it normally did.

Those were the times that set my heart on fire, causing my pulse to rabbit in my chest and give me a slight, minuscule flame of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could feel an ounce of the same way for me as I do for him. The thing is, they most likely meant nothing to him. He wasn't aware of how tightly he had me wrapped around his finger, absolutely clinging to him.

Since he'd woken up from the coma, these moments were occurring more and more often than before. I decided to blame it on my bad luck and the fact that I'd missed him so much that I was focusing on the little things too much.

When that didn't suffice the nagging recesses of my mind, I tried to pin it to the fact that maybe he just missed me, and was simply enjoying the time we spent together as much as he could. Maybe he had some sort of awakening and wanted to cherish the time he spent with those he cares for.

Surely that's it, right?

I tried not to get too hopeful, but now every time he looks at me, his gaze is heavier than before. It's not the same, and I can't quite decide if I like it or not. It's lingering, leaving a hot trail wherever it goes, sending a scorching fire to my cheeks and blood to thrum wildly through my veins.

When he touches me, it seems to mean something more. It's like his skin is putting out an energy that wasn't there before, sticking to my own and making my flesh catch fire with it.

"I'll let you unpack the last bag on your own." I announced into the quiet room, Chan's low humming being the only sound other than my own voice, "I'm going to see what I have in the fridge to make for lunch."

He nodded, giving me that sweet little smile again that made my heart backflip. He turned back around toward the closet, now whistling a tune absentmindedly as he got to work.

I left the room, starting down the hallway and venturing to the kitchen where I ran a hand down my face. I leaned against the counter and sighed softly.

Back in Chandler's hospital room just days ago, every neuron in my brain was warning me. They told me this was a stupid idea and that I was only going to hurt myself in the end.

'He's not just your best friend. You're in love with him. What makes you think that you can live with him in your one-bedroom apartment and be totally fine? You'll combust into a million pathetic, love-struck smithereens before the end of the first week. This isn't just a week-long vacation with his family or a two-night sleepover.'

My heart, however, was much more optimistic.

'So what if you're in love with him? He's not just some guy you have a schoolgirl crush on; he's your best friend. You'd do anything for him. If the roles were switched, he would do the same for you in a heartbeat. Stop thinking with that overbearingly anxious and pessimistic brain of yours and start thinking with me instead.'

Both sides of this coin had valid points, though. Being in such close proximity with Chan almost constantly was bound to be a bit difficult at first, considering how he could always set my body aflame with a single look. However, I'd had many years of practice on my record. The annual short family vacations I'd accompanied him on and weekly summer sleepovers meant that I had to become decent at hiding how I felt. I had to brush off his sly comments and teasing little jokes as if they meant nothing.

I had to pretend that I wasn't completely melting inside every time he showed even an ounce of affection.

As much as I wanted to toughen it out and appear unbreakable, I had to admit that it was starting to get harder. Before the accident, I'd gotten pretty good at shaking it off and letting my mind tell me that it meant nothing to him; just a guy showing some love to his best friend of many years.

Since he woke up, every look and every touch had me craving more instead of instinctively allowing them to ricochet off of me. He was the same Chandler Lee I'd known since Junior High. Yet, something slightly different radiated off of him and It was absolutely intoxicating.

I jumped a bit as Chan's lean figure ascended into the room, almond eyes wandering around the kitchen a bit before landing on me. I raised my eyebrows, "Already done unpacking?" I was a little shocked at how quickly he'd managed to finish.

Then again, how long had I been leaned against the counter pathetically lost in my thoughts? For all I knew, it could've been half an hour.

"Yup!" He sauntered past me and opened the refrigerator door, pulling it open and sticking his head inside childishly. A few moments later, he stuck his head back out, closing the door and huffing a little, "Let's order fried chicken." He had a small pout on his rosy lips, cat-like eyes widening as he pleaded with me silently, "Come on, it'll be my treat. It's the least I can do." He refused to drop the act, waiting for my response while begging like a puppy.

My heart thrummed weakly in my chest, laughing at me as it knew I'd already lost this battle.

"Fine," I gave in, watching as a blinding, wolfish grin broke out on Chan's lips as he raised two large fists victoriously,"-but you're not paying next time."

He nodded furiously, already making his way over to the couch to retrieve his cell phone to order the food though I was positive he ignored the part about me paying next time. I let my eyes fall closed as he leaned over the other side of the counter once he'd grabbed it and ruffled my hair with his large hand, letting the strands soothe between his long fingers for a moment before he pulled them away.

His familiar cologne wafted through the air as he passed me to make his way into the family room, already dialing the number for delivery. I released a shaky sigh as I let the deep musky scent envelop my senses, getting lost for a second in my own little euphoria.

The moments like this kept making it harder. Why couldn't he just dial the damn number and order the chicken? Why did he have to come back over here and play with my hair like that? Why did he have to smell so damn good?

I could still feel the ghost of his fingers on my scalp as if they were still there. Before, I would've already shaken it off. Now, I couldn't seem to get my pulse to slow down. This was nothing new; he'd always been affectionate. It just felt different somehow, and I couldn't help but blame myself for thinking so. Had all of my self control vanished in the last two months?

It was only the first day, how was I supposed to last-at least, a few more weeks?

His deep voice rumbled across the room as he spoke into the phone and rambled off our order. He paced back and forth absentmindedly as he did so, running a large hand through his charcoal locks and licking his plush lips out of habit.

It would get easier, right? Being apart from him for so long had taken its toll, but this would pass. It'd be like before, where I could handle my emotions and thoughts and play it off like nothing has a deeper meaning.

I could be his best friend who's secretly in love with him again.

With his lingering touches and heavy gaze, I was walking on quicksand; every step I try to take away from him only pulling me in deeper.

Go easy on me, Chan.

For my sake, have some mercy on me.

After he finally ended the call, he turned toward me with a childlike look of excitement on his chiseled face, "The food will be here in an hour," he walked toward the hallway and announced, "I'm going to wash up!" I heard the click of the bathroom door closing, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.

Without him here, I felt like I could finally breathe some fresh air again. The relief was short-lived, and I knew it.

Before I knew it, he'd be back. Making goofy remarks and sly comments while we wait for the food to arrive that'll make my eyes crease around the edges and my belly ache from laughing so hard, he'd nestle deeper into the confines of my heart that I tried so desperately to close off.

His soothing voice would pull me into a trance that leaves me wanting to hear only him until I couldn't pick up on anything else. Those eyes, lips, and brushes of skin that I used to be able to accept so naturally were beginning to pull me under.

All I could do is hold onto that small raft of assurance, trying to stay afloat. I could keep telling myself that I can do this. I'd just keep telling myself that I could go forever keeping the way I feel a secret as long as he's happy.

I could keep pretending that I wasn't drowning in him exactly the way that I was afraid I would from the very beginning- endlessly and without anybody to pull me out from under the seismic tide.