6. Jasper
CHAPTER SIX
jasper
Jasper didn’t touch Bennett again after the kiss.
Not because he didn’t want to. He wanted to do this right.
Bennett retreated to the desk like it was a safe zone, phone in hand, posture too straight, attention scattered. Jasper recognized the signs. Processing. Recalibrating. Trying to fold something new into an old framework.
Jasper let him.
He sat on the bed and answered a few emails he did not need to, more for the illusion of normalcy than for productivity. The room felt different now. Charged, but not fragile. Like something had shifted and settled instead of breaking.
Eventually, Bennett spoke without looking up. “You are being very quiet.”
Jasper smiled. “You asked to slow down.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to stop existing.”
“I’m still here,” Jasper said. “I’m just not crowding you.”
Bennett’s shoulders eased, just a fraction. “Good.”
They worked like that for a while. Separate tasks. Shared space. The quiet hum of something unspoken but understood.
Later, Jasper closed his laptop and stretched. “I’m going for a walk.”
Bennett glanced up. “Outside.”
“Yes.”
“It’s still cold.”
“I will survive,” Jasper said. “You’re welcome to join me.”
Bennett hesitated. Jasper waited. He always waited.
Finally, Bennett shut his laptop. “Fine.”
Outside, the snow crunched under their boots. The sky was overcast, heavy with the promise of more weather. The air felt sharp and clean, like it stripped things down to essentials.
They walked in silence at first.
Jasper broke it gently. “You okay?”
Bennett exhaled. “Define okay.”
“You didn’t bolt,” Jasper said. “That’s a good sign.”
Bennett huffed. “Do not congratulate me for basic human behavior.”
“I will congratulate you for courage,” Jasper replied.
Bennett glanced at him. “You really think that was courage.”
“I do,” Jasper said. “Wanting something when it doesn’t fit your identity is terrifying.”
Bennett’s jaw tightened. “You make it sound like a diagnosis.”
“I make it sound like being human.”
They stopped near the edge of the path where the snow lay undisturbed, the world quiet and wide.
Bennett stared out at it. “I keep expecting the panic to hit.”
“And has it.”
“No,” Bennett admitted. “That is what’s bothering me.”
Jasper smiled softly. “That’s usually how you know.”
Bennett turned toward him. “Know what?”
“That you’re not forcing yourself,” Jasper said. “You’re allowing yourself.”
Bennett swallowed. “I’m not used to that.”
“You’re doing better than you think,” Jasper replied.
Bennett studied him for a moment. “You’re very patient.”
“I am,” Jasper agreed. “But not endlessly.”
Bennett nodded, accepting the honesty. “Fair.”
They headed back inside together, shoulders brushing, not accidental this time.
Back in the room, Bennett paced once before stopping in front of Jasper.
“You said something earlier,” Bennett said.
Jasper looked up from where he had set his coat down. “I say many things.”
“You said you were afraid,” Bennett continued. “About me taking what I want and then deciding I never wanted it.”
Jasper held his gaze. “Yes.”
Bennett’s voice was quiet. “I don’t want to be that person.”
“I know,” Jasper said.
Bennett frowned. “How.”
“Because you stopped,” Jasper replied. “Because you asked for time instead of pretending you didn’t care.”
Bennett looked like that mattered more than he expected.
Jasper stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “I’m in no rush. But I am also not here to be half-chosen.”
Bennett’s throat worked. “I’m not good at halves.”
“I noticed,” Jasper said, smiling faintly.
Bennett hesitated, then said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
Bennett met his eyes. “If we do this. Really do this. What do you expect from me?”
Jasper considered the question seriously. “Honesty. Effort. The willingness to be uncomfortable without shutting down.”
Bennett nodded slowly. “That sounds like a lot.”
“It is,” Jasper said. “It’s also the minimum.”
Bennett’s mouth curved, small and real. “You have high standards.”
“I learned the hard way,” Jasper replied.
Bennett was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “I want to try.”
The words landed.
Jasper did not hide his smile. “That’s all I am asking.”
Bennett stepped closer. Not rushed. Not hesitant either. He reached out and touched Jasper’s wrist, grounding himself.
“This,” Bennett said, gesturing between them, “is still new.”
“I know.”
“And I might be slow.”
“I know.”
“And I might overthink everything.”
Jasper laughed softly. “I definitely know.”
Bennett took a breath. “But I don’t want to stop.”
Jasper’s chest warmed. “Neither do I.”
Bennett leaned in first this time.
The kiss was different. Less explosive. More certain. Jasper felt the intention in it, the choice. Bennett’s hand slid from his shoulder down his chest, exploring with new confidence. Jasper’s breath hitched when Bennett’s fingers traced the waistband of his jeans.
Jasper kissed him back slowly, deeply, tongue sliding against Bennett’s until they were both breathing hard. His hands mapped the planes of Bennett’s back, pulling him closer until their hips pressed together. The friction made Bennett groan into his mouth.
When they pulled apart, Bennett rested his forehead briefly against Jasper’s, both of them flushed and wanting.
“Okay,” Bennett murmured.
Jasper smiled.
They did not go further. Not yet. They sat together on the bed instead, shoulders touching, quiet and easy.
Later, when the lights were off and the world pressed in softly, Jasper lay awake and smiled into the dark.
This was happening.
Not recklessly. Not secretly.
But honestly.
And that made all the difference.