Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL]-Chapter 56: Scandal (5)

Lance froze.

The room felt suddenly too quiet, the weight of Ansel’s words pressing down on his chest.

"I—" He swallowed, fingers tightening around the phone. "I didn’t mean it like that. I just... Mum was panicking, and I didn’t know what else to say. Saying ’boyfriend’ felt easier than explaining whatever this is."

Ansel studied him, expression unreadable. "And what is this, Lance?"

Lance’s throat worked. "I don’t know," he admitted softly. "But I know you didn’t deny it."

Ansel’s eyes narrowed slightly. "That doesn’t mean I agreed to it."

"I know.." Lance said quickly, panic flickering across his face. "I’m not trying to trap you or anything. I just—" His voice cracked.

Silence stretched between them.

Ansel looked away first, jaw tightening as if annoyed at himself more than anything else. "You’re reckless," he said flatly. "Using my name like that."

"I said please don’t kill me," Lance muttered weakly.

That earned a short, breathy laugh from Ansel despite himself. He rubbed a hand over his face, then looked back at Lance.

"Your mother isn’t stupid," he said. "She’ll dig. She’ll ask questions. If you call me your boyfriend once, she’ll expect consistency."

Lance’s shoulders slumped. "I’ll fix it. I’ll tell her I panicked."

"And add more chaos?" Ansel scoffed. "Not happening."

Lance blinked. "Then what do we do?"

"For now," he said slowly, "you don’t correct her. You don’t explain. You stay quiet and let me handle the mess I just volunteered to clean up."

Lance looked up at him, eyes wide. "You’re... okay with that?"

"I didn’t say I was okay," Ansel replied coolly. "I said I’d handle it."

"But you called me yours," Lance said before he could stop himself. His voice was barely above a whisper. "You told her my life was yours to protect."

Ansel’s gaze darkened. "Don’t read into things you’re not ready to deal with."

Lance nodded, but his chest ached anyway. "Then... am I still allowed to be scared?"

Ansel hesitated.

"...Yes," he said at last. "You are."

Lance let out a shaky breath, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. He stared down at his phone, then looked back up.

"And... am I still allowed to hold your hand?"

Ansel didn’t answer immediately.

Then, with a quiet sigh, he reached out and took it.

Ansel didn’t pull his hand away.

Instead, he glanced down at where Lance’s fingers were still loosely curled around his own, then back at Lance’s face.

"What’s so comforting about holding my hand?" Ansel asked, tone almost casual, but his eyes were sharp, observant. "It would’ve been uncomfortable if one of us had sweaty hands."

-_-

Lance sighed.

He loosened his grip slightly but didn’t let go, his thumb brushing unconsciously against Ansel’s knuckle as if testing whether he was still allowed to stay there.

"It’s not about comfort like that," Lance said quietly. "It’s not about temperature or sweat or anything logical."

Ansel didn’t say anything, he found it quite troublesome to hold hands.

He guessed Lance was more sentimental that he was.

"When I hold your hand," Lance continued, eyes dropping to their joined fingers, "it feels like... I exist. Like I’m not floating. Like I won’t suddenly disappear if I stop paying attention."

His voice wavered, but he pushed through it.

"Everything feels so loud lately. People staring. Talking. Pointing. Blaming me for things I didn’t do."

He swallowed. "But when I’m holding your hand, it’s like there’s a line pulling me back. Like someone’s anchoring me."

Ansel’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

Lance let out a weak, humorless breath. "It’s stupid, right? You’re not doing anything. You’re just... there."

He looked up at Ansel then, eyes red but earnest.

"But no one’s ever been there for me like that before."

The room went quiet.

Ansel didn’t scoff. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t make a cutting remark.

Instead, his fingers shifted, it was subtle and deliberate, curling more securely around Lance’s hand.

"You really are troublesome," he muttered.

Lance’s lips trembled. "You say that like you hate it."

"I say it," Ansel replied, gaze steady on their hands, "because you make me do things that don’t benefit me."

That made Lance blink.

Ansel leaned back slightly against the headboard, still holding on.

"And yet," he added coolly, "here I am."

Lance let out a small, shaky laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob.

"Then... can you keep holding it?" he asked softly. "At least for tonight."

Ansel was quiet for a long moment.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his thumb shifted again, pressing lightly against the back of Lance’s hand, as if testing something unfamiliar.

"For tonight," he said at last. "That’s all."

Lance nodded quickly, relief washing over his face like he’d just been granted something precious.

He shuffled closer on the bed without even realizing it, exhaustion finally catching up to him.

His eyelids drooped, lashes dark against his flushed skin.

Ansel watched him carefully.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be doing this. He definitely shouldn’t be letting a grown man cling to his hand like a lifeline.

And yet.

Lance’s breathing evened out gradually, the tightness in his shoulders easing as sleep claimed him.

His grip loosened just a little but not enough to let go.

Ansel exhaled slowly.

He had been doing things he didn’t usually do.

Risky, pointless things.

All for this kid.

He waited until Lance was fully asleep before carefully shifting, adjusting their hands so Lance wouldn’t wake.

When he was sure, Ansel gently freed himself, laying Lance back against the pillows and pulling the blanket over him with uncharacteristic care.

"So troublesome.." he murmured under his breath.

Once Lance was settled, Ansel stood and moved to the desk near the window. His expression hardened the moment his phone was back in his hand.

He scrolled, then paused, before selecting a contact he hadn’t called in nearly a year.

The line rang once.

Twice.

Then—

"...Well I’ll be damned.." a familiar, amused voice drawled. "Did the world end, or is my dear older brother finally remembering he has family?"

Ansel didn’t bother with pleasantries.

"Lionel."

There was a pause. The humor faded slightly.

"...I see it’s a serious call.." Lionel said.

"Yes."

"What happened?"

Ansel glanced once toward the bed, where Lance slept curled on his side, brows still faintly furrowed even in rest.

"My kitten been on the news all day," Ansel said flatly. "He’s cried enough to last a lifetime."