Shattered Bonds

EPISODE 15

Tristan stepped out of the shower, steam rolling off his skin as he reached for a towel. He dried his hair hastily before slipping back into his uniform. As he buttoned up his shirt, his mind drifted unexpectedly.

Nathan.

He hadn’t thought about him in a long while. Not since he had thrown their friendship away with those words: We can’t go back to the way things were. It had stung then, and even now, there was a dull ache when he thought about it. He wondered how Nathan was doing. They sat in the same classroom every day, yet he never stopped to really look. Maybe it was time he did.

With a shake of his head, he pushed the thoughts aside and grabbed Drake’s belongings from his locker before heading back to the infirmary.

Drake was awake when Tristan arrived, his brown eyes blinking sleepily as he looked up at him. “You’re back,” he murmured, voice still laced with exhaustion.

“Of course I am,” Tristan replied with a smirk. “Did you think I’d just leave you here?”

Drake gave a small, sheepish smile. “No, but I thought you might just let me walk out on my own.”

Tristan scoffed. “Nice try.” Without another word, he scooped Drake up into his arms effortlessly.

“Tristan! I can walk!” Drake protested, his face flushing red as he squirmed in Tristan’s hold.

Tristan merely chuckled, tightening his grip. “Yeah? And what if you collapse on the way? You want me to carry your unconscious body through school like a hero in some cheesy romance drama?”

Drake’s lips parted, but he had no words. He simply gave up, sighing as he rested his head against Tristan’s chest. His heart was hammering so loud he was sure Tristan could hear it.

Tristan carried him out of the infirmary, past stunned students and amused teammates, and straight to his car. After placing Drake inside, he leaned in to fasten his seatbelt. Their faces were suddenly inches apart, and for a moment, Drake forgot how to breathe.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tristan teased, his voice dropping an octave.

Drake snapped out of his daze, fumbling for words. “I-I wasn’t—”

Tristan only smirked before shutting the door and getting into the driver’s seat. The ride home was silent, save for the occasional sounds of the car’s engine and the soft rustling of their clothes.

Tristan finally spoke. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Drake hesitated, unsure if he should voice what was really on his mind. “I don’t know what to say, Tris,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tristan turned to glance at him. “Then don’t say anything. Just sit there and keep looking cute.”

Drake’s face burned, and he quickly turned away, staring out the window. He was thankful when they finally arrived at his house. Tristan stepped out, ready to carry him again, but Drake held up a hand.

“Just help me walk to the door. Please.”

Tristan sighed but complied, slipping an arm around Drake’s waist to support him. When they reached the front door, the butler opened it and took Drake’s belongings from Tristan’s hands.

Drake turned to Tristan. “Thanks for everything today. I… really appreciate it.”

Tristan reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from Drake’s forehead. “Anytime, baby boy.”

Drake’s breath hitched. Before he could respond, Tristan stepped back, flashing him a grin before sauntering back to his car. Drake watched as the car disappeared down the road, his heart still doing somersaults.

---

Tristan arrived home and headed straight for his room after greeting his parents. He stripped off his uniform, replacing it with soft pajamas, and threw himself onto the bed. His thoughts wandered, as they often did these days, to Drake.

He remembered the first time Drake had approached him, years ago, asking if he could join the basketball team. He had been small, shy, and unsure of himself, but there had been a fire in his eyes when he spoke about the game. Tristan had gone to the coach, practically begging him to give Drake a chance. If he can’t keep up, then you can cut him.

Drake had done more than keep up. He had thrived.

Tristan chuckled softly. That tiny kid had become one of the strongest players on their team. And now? Now, he had become so much more.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. He didn’t need a soothsayer to tell him what he already knew.

He had feelings for Drake.

It was different from what he had with Carl. That had been impulsive, rushed. He had dived in headfirst, only to drown in heartbreak when it all crumbled. He didn’t want to make the same mistake again.

He wanted to be sure.

He wanted to know, without a doubt, that Drake felt the same.

Rolling onto his side, Tristan reached for his phone, debating whether to text Drake. He wanted to, but he didn’t want to seem too eager. Instead, he set the phone aside and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, he would see Drake again.

And that thought alone made him smile.