Chapter 4
Robert glanced at the boy in the rearview mirror as he drove.
Passed out cold.
He didn't know where Carl lived. The boy had never spoken much — always kept to himself at school. There was no way he'd wake up enough to give directions.
So he made a decision.
He pulled into his condo's driveway.
Once inside, Robert gently carried Carl into the spare room, laying him on the bed. His shirt was stained, the smell still clinging. Robert sighed.
"I guess I have no choice."
He helped Carl out of his clothes, trying to be as careful and respectful as possible. Carl muttered things as Robert supported him into the shower — just enough to rinse the worst off. His words were soft, disjointed. But one phrase came out clearly.
"I hate you..."
Robert froze. He wasn't sure who those words were for.
After the shower, Robert helped him into an old t-shirt and sweats that surprisingly fit well. He brushed Carl's wet hair back from his face, pausing as he watched him sleep.
The boy's lips moved, licking them slightly in his sleep.
Robert exhaled. A soft, weary smile tugged at his lips.
"Good night, Carl," he said.
He turned off the light, shut the door, and left the boy to sleep.
----
Carl stirred awake slowly, his head heavy, his mouth dry. The bed beneath him was soft — too soft. His eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling, sunlight leaking through pale curtains. He sat up, realizing he was no longer in his clothes from last night. Instead, he wore a loose t-shirt and sweatpants that weren't his.
His brows furrowed. This wasn't his room.
He stood carefully, legs still a little wobbly. As he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the smell of something frying drifted through the air — eggs, maybe.
He followed the scent.
Rounding the corner, he paused.
Mr. Ashton stood in the small kitchen, his back turned, flipping something in a pan. He was dressed casually — black shorts, a snug shirt hugging his back and arms, sleeves short enough to reveal the dark ink of his tattoo curling around his bicep. His hair was damp, freshly washed, the strands falling slightly into his face.
Carl blinked. The man looked — hot, for lack of a better word.
He shifted awkwardly.
Robert turned around just then, meeting his eyes.
"You're up," he said. "Come on. You must be starving."
Carl moved slowly to the table, not sure what to say. He sat.
Robert gave a small amused chuckle at his hesitance. "Relax. You didn't do anything embarrassing. Well—except maybe the throwing up part."
Carl's cheeks tinted slightly.
Robert set a plate in front of him — eggs, toast, and slices of fruit. "Eat."
Carl took a bite. It was surprisingly good. He nodded slowly. "You're a decent cook."
"Thanks," Robert said, sitting across from him with his own plate.
After a moment of silence, Carl spoke again, his voice quiet. "Do you... usually go to bars like that?"
Robert glanced up at him. "I do," he said, tone even. "But don't worry — I won't tell anyone you were there."
Carl nodded slowly. "Thanks."
Robert studied him for a moment. "What about you? First time?"
Carl shrugged. "Yeah. Curiosity, mostly."
Robert gave a small smile. "Makes sense."
Carl hesitated, then said softly, "I just didn't think someone like you would be... you know."
Robert raised a brow. "Gay?"
Carl nodded again, mouth full this time. Robert chuckled at the sight.
"Messy eater," he said, reaching forward instinctively. With his thumb, he gently wiped the corner of Carl's mouth.
Carl froze, surprised by the touch. Robert seemed to realize it at the same time and pulled back quickly.
"Sorry," he said.
"It's fine," Carl replied, voice barely above a whisper.
"Want more?" Robert asked, already standing.
Carl nodded, and Robert walked back to the stove. Carl's gaze trailed to the man's back, tracing the muscles beneath his shirt, the way his tattoo curled just under the sleeve.
"What about your parents?" Robert asked casually, not turning. "You should probably call them. Let them know you're okay. They might be worried."
Carl gave a dry laugh. "There's no need for that. They're probably already on their way to another city by now. They won't notice I'm gone."
Robert looked over his shoulder but said nothing. He didn't press. Instead, he returned to the table with more food, setting it down in front of Carl.
"Eat," he said again.
Carl looked at him for a long second, then picked up his fork.