24. Niall
CHAPTER 24
NIALL
The taste of Eli still lingered on my lips, a mix of mint and something sweeter, something I didn’t have the words for. My breath came fast, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the cool air or from him. Probably him. Definitely him.
His eyes locked on mine, like he was waiting for me to do something—say something. But my mind was blank, and for once, I wasn’t drowning in questions, overthinking every move. I just wanted to stay in this moment a little longer.
Eli tilted his head slightly, studying me. “So, how was Colorado?”
I huffed out a breath, shaking my head. “We played like shit. Lost six-one the first night. Barely scraped by the second.”
Eli winced. “Ouch. I saw the score for the first game, but the second was that bad, huh?”
“Worse.”
“Anything I can do to help?” His voice was light, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity.
I smirked. “Unless you’ve got a miracle tucked into that jacket, probably not.”
Eli smirked, nudging me with his shoulder. “Guess I’ll have to make sure you eat proper meals, then. You know, all growing boys need their nutrients.”
I huffed out a laugh. “You calling me a growing boy?”
He grinned. “Hey, just looking out for your health. Wouldn’t want the team captain keeling over from malnutrition.”
A short laugh escaped me before I even realized it was coming. The sound startled me, and from the way Eli’s eyes widened slightly, it surprised him too. I cleared my throat and glanced away. “Guess that’s one way to look at it.”
Eli bumped his shoulder lightly against mine. “See? I have my uses.”
I shook my head, but the easy warmth between us loosened something in my chest. Somehow, he had this way of pulling me out of my own head, making me forget for a second how tightly wound I usually was.
I swallowed, rubbing the back of my neck. “This is… new for me.”
Eli nodded like he already knew. His voice dropped, quieter now. “I get that.” His thumb traced slow, steady circles over the back of my hand. “You letting me in—it means something. I know that. I won’t take it for granted.” His gaze flickered down to our intertwined fingers, lingering like he was memorizing the way they fit together.
The words settled in my chest, heavier than I expected, but not in a bad way. I wasn’t used to being seen like this. But Eli did. And somehow, that made it feel less terrifying.
I let out a breath, meeting his gaze. “I like you, Eli.”
His smile softened. “Good. Because I like you too.”
* * *
By the time we made it back to the apartment, the air between us was light but also charged. The silence wasn’t awkward, just full of something that made my skin hum.
Eli kicked off his shoes and stretched, rolling his shoulders like he was settling in. “All right, Cap. Since I’ve apparently appointed myself in charge of your survival, what are we making?”
I shot him a look. “ We? ”
“Yes, we ,” he said, already striding toward the kitchen. “You’re not getting out of this.”
I huffed but followed, watching as he yanked open the fridge and surveyed the options. “Not much in here,” he mused. “Unless you’re in the mood for expired yogurt and regret.”
I snorted. “Sounds appetizing.”
“All right, how about something simple?” He started pulling things out without waiting for my answer. “Grilled cheese? Pasta? Breakfast for dinner?”
I leaned against the counter, watching him move. “Breakfast for dinner?”
“Yeah, why not? Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast—it’s a classic.” He shot me a grin. “Or are you one of those ‘ eggs only belong in the morning ’ people?”
I shook my head, smirking. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, you’re on egg duty.”
“Deal.”
It wasn’t about the food, really. It was about the way Eli made it fun—flicking water at me when I turned my back, dodging my half-hearted swats with a smug grin. It was easy. Comfortable. And maybe that was what caught me off guard the most.
After we’d eaten and cleaned up, I excused myself to my room.
I wasn’t planning on staying there long—I just needed a minute. But as I sat on the edge of my bed, my gaze drifted, skimming over my room like I was seeing it differently. Like I felt different.
My eyes caught on the closet. The door was slightly ajar, just enough for a sliver of the inside to be visible. I didn’t know what made me get up, but I did, stepping over and pulling the door open all the way. My shelves were stacked with the usual—extra sheets, a duffel bag, a pair of hockey skates I hadn’t touched in a while. But it was the floor that drew my attention.
I crouched down, pushing aside an old sweatshirt.
The box was right where I’d shoved it years ago, tucked into the back corner. A thin layer of dust coated the top, undisturbed. I crouched down, dragging it toward me, my fingers brushing over the faded cardboard. It felt heavier than I remembered—not in weight, but in everything it carried.
Lifting the lid, I half expected everything inside to be ruined, but the console, controllers, and tangled cords were still there, mostly clean, just smelling faintly of old plastic and time. I ran a hand over the smooth surface, then grabbed the sweatshirt I’d tossed aside and wiped it down, like I could erase the years I’d let it sit untouched.
Why now?
I wasn’t sure. But something had shifted.
A lump formed in my throat as I traced the edges, remembering how my dad and I used to sit side by side, controllers in hand, his laughter filling the room every time he absolutely destroyed me in a match. My mom pretended not to know which one of us was whining about losing. Those nights had felt endless, like we had all the time in the world.
And then we didn’t.
After the accident, I’d shoved the box in here, letting dust collect, letting the weight of loss bury it. Like if I didn’t see it, I wouldn’t have to feel it. Like denying myself the things that once made me happy would somehow make up for the fact Mom and Dad were gone.
But now, with my fingers curled around it, I felt something else —a pull, a shift, like maybe I was ready to stop running from the things that once made me happy.
Maybe it was the way Eli made things feel easy, how he pulled me into moments without demanding anything from me. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, like I wasn’t just a guy holding himself together with duct tape and stubbornness.
Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, I wanted to have fun.
Really wanted to.
And I wanted to share that with him—wanted to let him in .
I ran my thumb over the buttons, feeling the familiar grooves beneath my touch. A slow breath escaped me as I sat with the weight of the moment, then, finally, I made up my mind.
When I stepped back into the living room, Eli was sprawled out on the couch, looking half-asleep. But when he saw what was in my hands, his brows lifted. “Oh? What’s this?”
I hesitated, gripping the console a little tighter. “After my parents died… I didn’t think I deserved to have fun again.” I sat next to him.
Eli sat up immediately, all traces of his earlier teasing gone. He didn’t say anything—just looked at me, waiting, giving me space to find the words.
I cleared my throat, pushing the words out. “I’m an only child. My parents were, too, which means I don’t have siblings or cousins. But my parents… they made up for it.” I swallowed hard, adjusting my grip on the console. “My dad and I used to play all the time. And after they were gone, I just… stopped.”
Eli’s gaze never wavered. “But you’re going to play again?”
I exhaled, the weight of the moment pressing into my chest. “Yeah,” I admitted, voice rough. “Because of you. You make me smile again… the real kind.”
Something flickered in Eli’s eyes—something steady, something certain . He moved closer, his hand sliding against my arm, warm and grounding. “Your parents would want you to be happy, Niall. I know that much.”
I didn’t have a response. Instead, I let my eyes fall shut. Eli’s fingers skimmed along my wrist, nice and slow.
After a long moment, Eli pulled back slightly, his voice low. “May I?”
My eyes snapped open, but before I could answer, he gently took the console from my grip and placed it carefully beside us on the couch. Then, with a fluid motion, he straddled me, settling himself comfortably on my lap. His weight was a steady presence, grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected.
I pressed my face into the space between his neck and shoulder and inhaled his warmth. His scent was a mix of cologne, something subtle and clean, and the lingering traces of the meal we’d just cooked together. I could feel his heart beating and his breath warm against my skin.
Then he kissed me. Slow, steady—like we had all the time in the world.
Our mouths moved together in a kiss that was deep and desperate. It pulled at me in a way I hadn’t expected. His breath was uneven, and soft sounds escaped him with each shift of his lips, each brush of his body against mine.
I could feel the heat of him, the thickness and hardness of his dick pressing against my belly. It was the first time I’d ever felt a man like that—so close, so real—and there was no part of me that recoiled. Instead, something deep inside me stirred, a need I hadn’t known was there before, pushing through the confusion. It wasn’t overwhelming or off-putting. It felt... right. I wanted more.
But then, just as quickly as the intensity had built, a flicker of something else passed between us—a quiet acknowledgment that we both needed a breath. And as we slowly pulled away, the weight in my chest didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.
Eli grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “All right. Enough deep emotional revelations. I’m about to kick your ass.”
And just like that, the moment shifted—lighter, easier. I felt the tension slip away, and I let it go.
I let out a breathy laugh and shook my head. “You think so?”
“Oh, I know so.”
We set up the game, and soon, the apartment was filled with the sound of rapid button mashing, laughter, and the occasional insult.
Eli won the first round, throwing his arms up in victory. “Winner’s prize?”
I smirked, rolling my eyes. “What do you want?”
He leaned in, lips quirking. “You.”
I didn’t even hesitate. I kissed him, feeling his smile against my lips. And for the first time in a long time, I let myself have fun.