Game Changer

Chapter 1

“Why did you open that door?” Jared grumbled, furiously pressing the buttons on his controller.

He was pretty chill in his daily life, but zombie survival video games always transformed him into a different person. A cucumber in a sauna probably looked smarter.

Even when he hadn’t played a game before, he quickly got used to the commands and little tricks with the ease of a seasoned pro. Yet, when those walking dead monstrosities shuffled onto the screen, Jared’s muscles stiffened and his nerves went haywire.

“Because that’s the only way to get in?” Dylan retorted, laughing at him.

They had been wandering around the post-apocalyptic city for some time, scavenging the abandoned area for virtual items, when Dylan directed his character under a garage door and opened the one leading into the house.

“You could have at least warned me—this asshole!” Jared stabbed the zombie that had tackled him in the head, but the little shit wouldn’t die.

“Aww... Don’t worry. If you get killed, I’ll resurrect you like the princess you are.”

“Are you gonna kiss my ass too?” Jared retorted without thinking.

“If that’s what you want,” Dylan rasped. “I’m sure I could make you scream louder than you’re yelling at the TV.”

“Take that, you motherfucker!” Jared continued pressing the buttons for good measure. “Ugh! Finally.”

As the words Dylan just blurted sank in and Jared’s brain deciphered the tone he’d used, he stiffened, dick sheepishly throbbing to life. Wait. What?

“You know that even if you lift your controller and move it around like a madman, they won’t die any deader, right?”

“Shut up.” Jared punched Dylan on the shoulder, his mouth twitching with a smirk. “Also, what the fuck was that?”

“What the fuck was what?” Dylan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and took a swig of beer.

He quirked a brow. “You’re gonna make me scream?”

“Oh. Yeah, like a damsel in distress.”

Jared cackled. “I’d rather keep my knighthood, please and thank you.”

“You’re no knight. Just a piece of shit from Middlesbrough,” Dylan said in a horrible northern accent.

“Fuck you.”

Ah... I needed this.

After unleashing what felt like a reasonable amount of zombie mayhem, they ventured inside the ruined house. The place was a disaster—windows and shutters broken, the table in the kitchen covered with rotten food and flies, dirty floors that probably had a PhD in grime... you get the idea.

Jared eventually stumbled upon what appeared to be a first aid kit. “Fuck, yeah. Let me go ahead and—”

“Empty,” said his avatar.

“Nothing. Alrighty,” he muttered while his avatar rummaged through a sports bag on the floor. “Hey, leather. I’ll take it.”

Jared took a swig from his bottle, sneaking a quick glance at Dylan. He was half naked, wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts.

You’d think that since they had known each other for only four months and this was Jared’s first time here, there would be some sort of formality, but nope.

As soon as they’d entered the apartment, Dylan tossed his tee over the back of the couch, telling Jared to make himself at home while he went to change.

Jared wasn’t about to complain, though. He had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the view...

To be honest, something had been gnawing at him for a few weeks.

An itch that was growing into a full-blown rash.

It weighed down his lungs, making breathing feel like an Olympic sport.

Was it longing? Sadness? Guilt? A shadow was looming over his relationship, and all he could think about lately was how Dylan’s body would feel against his. How fucked up was that?

Shaking his head to clear those thoughts, Jared refocused on the game.

After snagging more supplies, they exited the house. He marveled at the impressive graphics—the grass swaying in the virtual wind looked so real—while their two avatars regrouped with the NPC, who had been their sidekick from the start.

“Well, look who’s here!” it exclaimed. “Ready to tackle some zombie hordes?”

“Do we have any other choice?” Jared’s avatar replied.

“I’ll track that guy down for you, don’t worry.”

“Wh-what guy?” Dylan’s avatar asked the non-playable character before taking a drag from its cig.

Yeah, they were all just chilling at dusk now.

“Quit pretending. You became a Pilgrim to track that fucker down. I found someone who knows him.”

“Wait. What? And you’re only telling us now?” Jared’s avatar spoke.

“When we sat here”—the NPC gestured to the incredible scenery in front of them—“I thought you guessed right away we were celebrating.”

The conversation went on for another five minutes as the character explained where they had to go next. Once it was done, they said goodbye and jumped into a beat-up truck, heading towards a column of smoke lingering over the horizon in the north.

The game had a few bugs here and there, but the story development, the scenarios.

.. the parkour! It was so good. The best part, though, was being here, drinking, yelling at the TV as if it had insulted their mothers, and laughing at Dylan swatting the air instead of a zombie’s head.

It was strange seeing him like this, so laid-back.

While Dylan wasn’t timid and he was nice to everyone at the office, he was quite serious and reserved too.

Sure, he’d occasionally shared bizarre stories of him and his friends getting caught up in the middle of the weirdest situations, like fist fights in the rain and a cop with a black eye, but there was still a veil of mystery surrounding him that had Jared intrigued.

Motorbikes. Tattoos. Snowboarding. Everyone knew he loved those, but what about his goals?

His dreams? Family? Partners? It was like he was wearing armour.

Which for some reason, Jared wanted to rip off so he could really get to know him.

And today, it felt like he finally could peek behind all that rusty, hard metal.

Two and a half hours zoomed by like a caffeine-charged squirrel, and only when Jared’s stomach serenaded them with a growl did they realize it was way past dinnertime.

“I think it’s time for me to hit the road...”

“Gotta be somewhere else?” Dylan asked, pausing the game and grabbing his phone from the coffee table when Jared moved to get up.

“No…” And he didn’t want to go back home either.

Tilting his head, not sure what Dylan meant by that, Jared waited for him to elaborate.

“You said Paul was going out with some friends tonight. We can keep playing and order some takeout?” He lifted a shoulder. “You can crash here tonight if you want. That way you won’t have to worry about the beer count.”

“You trying to get me drunk so you can do bad things to me?” Jared wiggled his brows, smirking.

“Maybe.” Dylan returned the cocky grin, then averted his eyes to look at his phone as he scrolled through the restaurants in the app. “So, what do you want? Pizza, burger, tacos...?”

“Chinese.”

“Of course you had to say the one thing I didn’t suggest.”

“What, you don’t like Chinese?”

“I do. I’m not picky with food.”

“Then stop whinging.” Jared stood up and stretched his back. “I want noodles with prawns.”

“That’s it?”

“Pork buns? Something spicy? I don’t know. Order whatever else you want. Stuff me good, Dyl.” He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

That had been like a cherry on the double chocolate fudge sundae of innuendos. But now, he was wondering if he had overdone it because Dylan was clenching his jaw, nostrils flaring slightly.

Jared didn’t hide the fact that he was gay.

Everyone knew his partner had a cock. He was past all the fear and shame he’d felt when he was younger for being attracted to his same gender.

However, despite a more accepting modern society, for some judgmental people, anything related to the word “queer” was a menace.

Dylan was not part of that group. He had never once treated Jared differently or assumed he wanted to get into his pants.

Awkward silences or discomfort didn’t exist between them.

Yet here was Jared now, toeing the line.

Dylan’s gaze intensified, and for a split second, unconcealed desire flared in his eyes. It was just a flash, but Jared didn’t miss it.

Nothing Dylan had ever done or said indicated he might be into men.

And while Jared had heard some of the women at work gossiping about Dylan’s romantic life—a few of them were crushing on him hard—not once did they mention him crossing swords.

So the possibility of that door being opened was shocking, in the best of ways.

“Of course you do.” Dylan chuckled.

Jared didn’t know if that comment was good or bad, but his body entered flight mode. Instead of running, though, he strolled towards the bathroom like he was a calm and confident person, not a shy teenager talking to his crush.

When did I become this weird? he thought, as he closed the door behind him.

Their dynamics were mostly built on backhanded compliments, witty banter, sarcasm, and fake flirting. And it worked beautifully.

But they were like day and night. No one would have bet half a penny on them getting so close, not even themselves. Dylan was a tough-looking adrenaline junkie wrapped in muscles and tattoos, while Jared gave off good boy vibes with his messy blond curls and generally quiet demeanor.

However, they’d clicked right away. They complemented each other perfectly. So much so, Penny and Cora, two other colleagues, called them each other's work husband.

Ironically, as different as they were, everything was easy between them. But Dylan was as straight as they came, older too, which is probably why he treated Jared like a younger brother. So nah, there was no chance in hell anything could happen.

Why are you even thinking about that?

Sure, Dylan was a certified hottie, but no. Nope. Jared wasn’t going to cross that line. Cheating was not within his moral compass.