The Secret Stays. Until It Doesnt
No one's POV:
A Few Weeks Later
Chance had never been great at keeping secrets. Not that he didn’t try—he really did—but some things were just too obvious.
Like the way he and Guest had been practically glued together since that night.
It wasn’t like anything had changed in the way they acted around the others.
At least, that’s what they kept telling themselves.
Guest still threw sarcastic remarks at everyone in sight, and Chance still played things cool, tossing out his usual grins and nonchalant remarks. But behind closed doors?
Yeah, that was different.
Now, they slept in the same bed more often than not.
Not that it had started that way—Chance had just come over one night, allegedly to "make sure Guest was keeping up with his stitches.
" But one thing led to another, and before he knew it, he was waking up tangled in warm sheets with Guest’s arm draped over his waist like it belonged there.
And, well, it kind of did.
It became routine, quiet and unspoken. Nights blurred into mornings, and waking up together became something neither of them questioned. Maybe it was a little reckless, considering they were supposed to be keeping things under wraps, but no one had noticed so far. They were smooth.
Or at least, that’s what Chance thought.
The Night It All Fell Apart (In the Worst and Funniest Way Possible)
It was late—way past the time anyone should’ve been awake.
Guest had been in a mood all night, which usually meant one of two things: either he was going to be completely unbearable or he was going to be distractingly affectionate. This time, it was the latter.
They were sprawled across Guest’s bed, tangled together in that lazy, half-conscious way that came after too many stolen kisses and too many murmured words against bare skin.
Guest had one arm slung around Chance’s waist, his face buried against his neck, pressing slow, absentminded kisses there as Chance chuckled softly.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” Chance murmured, tilting his head just enough to meet Guest’s gaze, his lips brushing against the other man’s jaw.
“You say that like you don’t love it.” Guest’s voice was low, teasing, but there was a softness to it too.
Chance grinned, shaking his head slightly.
- “Shut up and kiss me again.”
Guest didn’t need to be told twice.
They were lost in each other, too wrapped up in the warmth and the quiet pull between them to care about anything else.
And that was exactly when the door swung open.
Click.
Silence.
Chance froze.
Guest froze.
Standing in the doorway, eyes wide, was Elliot.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Elliot blinked. Looked at Guest. Looked at Chance. Looked at how they were half-undressed and tangled together in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
And then he just… nodded.
"Okay, yeah. That makes sense."
Then, as if it wasn’t the most insane thing that could’ve possibly happened, Elliot turned on his heel and walked right back out.
The door clicked shut again.
Silence.
Chance slowly, slowly turned his head back toward Guest, his expression still caught somewhere between horror and disbelief.
- “Did that just—”
- “Yep.”
- “Did he just—”
- “Yep.”
They stared at each other for a few more seconds.
And then, out of nowhere, Guest laughed.
Not his usual quiet chuckle. Not a smirk or an amused huff. A real, genuine, deep laugh that shook his whole body and sent vibrations through Chance’s chest where they were still pressed together.
Chance couldn’t help it—he started laughing too, muffling the sound against Guest’s shoulder as his entire body shook with the ridiculousness of it all.
- “We are the absolute worst at keeping secrets.”
- “Yeah,” Guest admitted, still grinning. “But I don’t think anyone actually cares.”
He had a point.
When they finally dragged themselves out of bed the next morning, already prepared for the inevitable awkward stares and questions, they were met with something else entirely.
Nothing.
No one said a word about it.
Not Elliot. Not anyone else in their little circle.
It was like nothing had even happened.
And that was when Chance realized—no one had ever really cared in the first place. They had been so caught up in keeping things quiet, in sneaking around like it was some big secret, that they hadn’t even considered the possibility that their friends had already figured it out.
Hell, maybe they’d always known.
- “You know what?” Chance muttered under his breath as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as Guest smirked at him from across the room. “We’re idiots.”
- “Yeah,” Guest agreed, popping a grape into his mouth like he wasn’t the least bit bothered by any of it. “But you love me anyway.”
Chance rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the smile pulling at his lips.
- “Yeah,” he said, quiet enough that only Guest could hear. “I do.”
A Few More Weeks Later
If Chance had to describe the shift in their relationship, he’d say it was both the most natural thing in the world and the most chaotic.
On one hand, nothing really changed. Guest was still insufferable in all the ways that made Chance want to either strangle him or kiss him senseless.
They still bickered, still threw sarcastic jabs at each other in front of the others.
But now, there were also stolen glances, the kind that made Chance’s stomach flip.
Now, there were moments where Guest’s hand would brush against his just a little too long, moments where he’d lean in close for no reason other than because he could.
And at night? Yeah, at night, things were different.
The sneaking around had become less about hiding and more about the thrill of it. It was one thing to sleep in the same bed when no one knew, but now? Now, it was a silent game between them. How long could they go before someone called them out directly?
Spoiler alert: Not very long.
The Night Everything Fell Apart—Again
It started innocently enough.
Chance had crashed in Guest’s room—again—not that it was anything new. They had planned to maybe get some sleep, but somehow that turned into lazy kisses, which turned into tangled limbs and breathless laughter, which turned into something much more heated.
Guest had him pinned against the bed, his mouth tracing along Chance’s jaw, when—
Knock.
Chance barely had time to react before the door swung open.
“Hey, Guest, have you seen—”
Silence.
Elliot. Again.
“Oh my God, why is it always me?”
For a moment, nobody moved.
Chance was still caught beneath Guest, his breath uneven, while Guest—because he was an absolute menace—barely even reacted. If anything, there was an irritatingly calm amusement flickering in his eyes, like getting caught in a compromising position was just another Tuesday for him.
Elliot, on the other hand, looked like he was one second away from just walking straight into the ocean.
- “I did not need to see this. Again.”
- “Then stop barging in!” Chance practically squeaked, squirming slightly under Guest’s weight.
“I knocked!”
- “You also opened the door before waiting for an answer,” Guest pointed out, annoyingly relaxed for someone who had Chance pinned to the mattress, their legs tangled together. “That’s kind of on you.”
Elliot groaned, dragging a hand down his face like he wanted to erase the past thirty seconds from his memory.
- “Whatever. I’m leaving. I was never here.”
With that, he spun on his heel and yanked the door shut behind him, this time with enough force to shake the frame.
The silence that followed was thick enough to suffocate.
Chance exhaled slowly, still staring at the now-closed door like it might burst open again at any second. His heart was pounding, a mix of embarrassment and something else entirely crawling up his spine.
- “We are going to die like this,” he muttered, tilting his head back against the pillow. “That’s how this ends. We get caught so many times that we just keel over from sheer secondhand embarrassment.”
Guest huffed out a quiet laugh, shifting just enough to really press his weight down, keeping Chance firmly trapped beneath him. His lips ghosted over the side of Chance’s neck, his breath warm against his skin.
- “Relax,” he murmured, like he wasn’t the problem here. “Not my fault you get so flustered.”
Chance glared, though it was difficult to look intimidating when his face was still warm from the entire ordeal.
- “I’m not flustered,” he lied, his voice betraying him with how breathless it sounded.
Guest grinned, dragging his lips deliberately slow up to Chance’s jaw.
- “Sure you’re not.”
Chance opened his mouth to argue—but the moment he did, Guest tilted his head and kissed him.
It wasn’t like the frantic, messy kisses from before. It was slow. Intentional. The kind of kiss that knocked the air out of Chance’s lungs, left him gripping at the fabric of Guest’s shirt just to keep himself grounded.
And then, as if nothing had just happened, Guest pulled back slightly, his gaze flicking to the door like he was considering something.
- “Think he’ll come back?”
- “If he does, I am jumping out that window.”
Guest chuckled, settling back against him, like they weren’t in danger of being walked in on again.
- “I dunno, kinda fun getting caught.”
Chance groaned, covering his face with both hands.
- “I hate you.”
- “No, you don’t.”
Chance peeked at him between his fingers, scowling.
- “I do.”
Guest smirked, completely unbothered.
- “Alright,” he murmured, pressing another kiss—soft, teasing—against Chance’s collarbone. “Then I guess I’ll just have to make you like me again.”
Chance really hated how fast his heart jumped at that.
(…Okay, maybe hate was a strong word.)