I hate this gambler
Guest's POV:
Guest had always been good at pretending.
Pretending he was fine. Pretending he could handle things on his own. Pretending he didn’t need anyone.
For the longest time, it worked.
But then Chance happened.
And suddenly, pretending wasn’t so easy anymore.
The first time he had shown up at Chance’s door, he had hated himself for it.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to need anyone. But the walls of his room had felt too small, the air too heavy, his own thoughts too loud. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, his chest felt too tight, and his body was exhausted, but sleep refused to come.
He had stood outside Chance’s door for what felt like forever, arms crossed, trying to convince himself to turn around.
But then, before he could talk himself out of it, he knocked.
Chance had answered almost immediately, blinking at him like he had been expecting it. Like this wasn’t weird. Like this was normal.
And when Guest muttered,
- “Shut up"
Chance just smirked and moved over without a word.
So Guest had stepped inside.
Had climbed into bed, stiff and tense, facing away, still hating every second of it—hating himself for needing this.
But as much as he hated it…
It helped.
And that pissed him off more than anything.
Now, nights like this had become routine.
Guest didn’t even try to fight it anymore. Not really.
Tonight was no different.
He had gone through the motions of another exhausting day, dragging himself forward, forcing himself to keep going even when his body screamed for rest.
He had spent years running on empty. This was nothing new.
But that didn’t mean it wasn’t getting worse.
The headaches. The fatigue. The panic that crept up on him at night, tightening around his ribs like a vice.
He hated it. Hated how weak it made him feel.
And he hated that the only thing that seemed to help was this.
So, like always, he found himself standing outside Chance’s door.
And, like always, Chance let him in without question.
Guest didn’t say much. He never did.
He just climbed into bed, turned away, and let the silence settle around them.
He wasn’t expecting what happened next.
Because at some point, as his body finally started to relax, as the tension in his muscles slowly eased—
Chance moved.
At first, it was subtle. Just a shift, a slight change in position.
Then, before Guest could even register what was happening—
Chance curled up against him.
Guest went completely still.
His breath caught, heart stuttering in his chest.
It took his brain a second to catch up. To process the warmth against his back, the steady rise and fall of Chance’s breathing.
He was cuddling him.
What the hell?
Guest’s first instinct was to pull away. To tense up, shove him off, pretend like this wasn’t happening.
But he didn’t.
Because, god help him, it felt… nice.
Warm. Steady. Safe.
And that was what scared him the most.
He had never had this before.
Not really.
Touch was something that had always been foreign to him. Something he avoided, something that felt unnatural, like it didn’t belong to him.
But this?
This was different.
Chance had always been different.
And, despite everything, despite every instinct screaming at him to not get used to this, Guest found himself shifting.
Slowly. Hesitantly.
He turned onto his other side, his movements careful, uncertain.
Chance didn’t react at first.
But when Guest finally settled, facing him now, Chance’s breathing hitched slightly—like he was surprised.
Guest ignored it. Ignored everything. The way his pulse was too fast, the way his body was betraying him, the way his hands moved on their own as he reached out and—
Hesitated.
For a second.
A long, agonizing second.
And then, before he could talk himself out of it—
He let himself do it.
He curled an arm around Chance, pulling him in, feeling the way their bodies fit together too easily.
Chance tensed slightly—just for a moment—before relaxing.
Guest didn’t say anything.
Didn’t know what to say.
So he just… let it happen.
Let himself have this, just for a night..
Guest knew he had made a mistake the second Chance let out a quiet, amused breath.
It was subtle—barely more than a huff of air against Guest’s collarbone—but it was enough. Enough to make his stomach twist with regret.
He didn’t have to look to know Chance was smirking.
- “Well, well, well.” His voice was low, smug. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler, Guest.”
Guest stiffened immediately, every muscle in his body locking up like he’d been caught doing something illegal. Which, honestly, this might as well have been.
- “Shut up.”
- “Nah, I don’t think I will.” Chance’s voice was dripping with amusement now. “I mean, this is kind of a big deal. You? Initiating physical contact? Wow. I feel special.”
Guest scowled, regretting everything.
- “If you don’t stop talking, I’ll throw you out of your own damn bed.”
- “See, now that would be interesting. But we both know you won’t.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Guest’s grip on him tightened involuntarily, fingers curling against the fabric of Chance’s hoodie like his body was betraying him. Like he was holding on.
Chance definitely noticed.
- “…Oh.” His voice dropped just a little, losing some of its teasing edge. “You really need this, huh?”
Guest didn’t answer.
Because what the hell was he supposed to say to that?
That yes, he needed this? That the weight of exhaustion and panic and everything else had been crushing him for so long, and this was the first time in forever that he felt like he could breathe?
No. No, he wasn’t saying any of that.
So he settled for the next best thing.
- “I hate you.”
- “Liar.”
Guest clenched his jaw, glaring at the wall behind Chance’s head.
Chance wasn’t wrong about that, either.
He wanted to be annoyed—really, truly annoyed—but Chance was warm. He was solid. Steady. And he wasn’t pulling away.
That was the part that got to him the most.
No one had ever stayed before.
People tolerated him. They respected him, maybe. But they didn’t stay.
But Chance…
Chance wasn’t leaving.
Guest let out a long, slow breath, forcing himself to relax. His hold on Chance loosened slightly—not letting go, just… settling.
Chance didn’t say anything for a while after that.
And then—
- “…You’re kinda clingy, huh?”
Guest groaned, feeling his face heat up.
- “I swear to god—”
- “No, no, it’s cute.”
Fucking hell.
Guest seriously debated suffocating himself with a pillow.
He should’ve never let this happen.
Should’ve just stood in the hallway like an idiot until the panic attack passed on its own. Should’ve never knocked. Should’ve never climbed into this bed.
But now it was too late, because Chance was thriving on this.
Guest could hear the grin in his voice when he spoke again.
- “Y’know, I think I could get used to this.”
Guest’s grip twitched.
- “Do not.”
- “Too late. It’s already happening.”
Guest wanted to punch him.
But that would mean letting go.
And…
He wasn’t ready to do that yet.
So, instead, he did the only thing he could do—he squeezed Chance tighter, yanking him even closer, until there wasn’t even an inch of space left between them.
Chance let out a surprised oof, his smirk faltering just a little.
- “…Oh. Okay.” He huffed. “Guess we’re doing this now.”
Guest didn’t respond.
Didn’t loosen his grip, either.
If Chance was going to be annoying about it, then fine. He’d deal with it. But he wasn’t going to let go. Not yet.
Not when his chest was finally starting to feel light instead of tight.
Not when, for the first time in forever, the world felt quiet.
Eventually, Chance seemed to realize the teasing wasn’t going to get much more of a reaction.
His breathing slowed.
His body relaxed.
And, after a while…
He fell asleep.
Guest stayed awake a little longer.
Not thinking. Not overanalyzing.
Just… existing.
With warmth against his chest. With steady breathing against his shoulder. With the quiet realization that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as alone as he thought.
And for the first time in a long time…
He let himself believe that was okay.
And with that thought lingering in his mind—soft, hesitant, but real—Guest finally closed his eyes and let sleep take him, too.