Chapter 12 #3
“I was afraid the roster would think me a coward for being Prichard’s monster,” he admits after several minutes.
The truth feels surprisingly freeing. “All those needlessly cruel things he forced me to do, brutality that went beyond a performance. Prichard made me who I am today. He could just as easily unmake me. Write me off TV. Sideline me with some stupid fake injury.”
“Then you’d have nothing left,” Asher says quietly.
Caleb nods. “You’re all so brave. I wish I knew what that’s like.”
When Caleb looks back up and glances over, Asher holds his gaze. “That was brave of you to say,” Asher tells him. “You carry so much. I could hold some of it for you. We all could.”
Caleb casts his eyes skyward again. This time, when his shoulders sag, they don’t do so beneath an impossible weight. They sag in relief.
A split second later, there’s a pressure against his back, and Caleb tumbles headfirst into the pool, chlorine up his nose and burning his eyes. He resurfaces moments later, choking inelegantly and spitting out water.
“You little shit!” He gapes at Asher, who points and cackles at him from the side, infectiously alive.
“Let loose a little,” Asher calls back. Another peal of laughter shoots into Caleb’s chest.
Caleb paddles to the side of the pool, head bobbing above the surface as he treads water.
“You know what would really help me let loose?” He grabs the hem of Asher’s shirt, twisting it up in his fingers.
His smile is dangerous. Laughter catches in Asher’s throat.
“This.” Caleb yanks and Asher disappears into the pool with a loud splash.
A laugh of his own slips out, buoyant and unguarded. It swirls around his face, then floats up into the sky. It’s nice, he thinks, to know that after everything that has happened, he’s still capable of laughing this loudly.
Before he can get too maudlin, Asher comes up for air, sputtering and cursing. He splashes over to Caleb and dunks his head underwater.
“Hey hey hey!” Asher screeches when Caleb breaks back to the surface and begins to corner him menacingly. “I’m concussed! Do not bully me.”
“Your dramatics are not cute,” Caleb lies through his teeth. Then he shoves Asher underwater, flailing and letting out a yell of his own when Asher drags him down.
They resurface moments later, gasping for air and laughing breathlessly.
“I hate you,” Caleb announces weakly. He’s so far gone, lost in a daydream. Treading water, each time Asher’s legs brush against his, Caleb’s skin ignites. He pushes a small current of water in Asher’s direction.
The wave breaks gently over Asher’s chest as he paddles over, so close that Caleb can see the brown of Asher’s eyes.
Beneath the warm lights dotting the garden, they look golden.
Breathtaking. Caleb is helpless against the foolish, delighted expression that spreads across his face when he sees it again: fireworks rekindling in Asher’s eyes, lighting up like he does when drinking in a challenge.
Like Caleb is a dare he’ll never back down from.
A smile bursts across Asher’s face like dawn, like the first ray of sunshine.
Water ripples quietly around Caleb as he slides his hands up Asher’s arms and then the curve of his shoulders, waiting for Asher to stop him.
Ready to pull away. He watches, helplessly hopeful as a droplet races down Asher’s ridiculously perfect nose, one that is scrunched up from the grin on his face.
He follows its path with the pad of his thumb, tracing down the bridge of Asher’s nose, then maps the constellation of freckles peppering his cheekbones.
They breathe as one, in sync for what feels like forever.
For a split second, Caleb’s gaze flickers down to Asher’s smiling lips before he pulls back up to look into Asher’s eyes.
An unspoken question passes between them.
Do you want this? Because if Caleb is reading Asher all wrong, this origami world is ruined. They’re ruined.
But Asher—wonderful, courageous Asher—takes matters into his own hands. He nudges Caleb forward. Those final inches of space melt away.
When Caleb presses his lips to Asher’s, he does so with a delicate reverence.
It’s the mending of a broken bone, a reclamation of something once stolen when young and defenseless.
Just like that, he’s twelve again, hands clasped, knees scraping the front of a pew, lungs struggling for breath on a sticky, stagnant morning.
Barely a second ticks by, but it thunders through him—a lightning strike of faith.
They part, separating just enough for Caleb to cup Asher’s cheek, checking that he’s real.
Asher giggles—fucking giggles—at that, and it this euphoric burst of fizzy air filled with wonder, and Caleb can do nothing but dive back in and kiss him through it.
He gets lost in the moment: fingers tangled in Asher’s hair, Asher sighing gently into his mouth, Asher’s fingers dancing across his shoulders before they dip beneath the surface of the water.
His hands roam the expanse of Caleb’s back and waist, a cartographer charting out a brand-new world.
“I hate you too,” Asher whispers. His lips curve upward against Caleb’s.
It sends him to the moon.