CHAPTER FIFTEEN
1238 Words
There was silence for once.
But Wes had never been this bored in his life.
He sat in the hospice lounge, slouched over in a chair that was way too stiff for comfort, flipping through magazines he had no interest in. He had already skimmed through Modern Architecture Digest, Luxury Yachts Weekly, and even an issue of Wine Enthusiast before tossing them all onto the table with an exasperated sigh.
Rich people had terrible taste in reading material.
He checked his watch. Barely an hour had passed since he’d left Nathaniel’s room.
With an annoyed groan, Wes tapped his fingers against the armrest, shifting in his seat. He considered walking around, maybe sneaking into the kitchen to grab a snack, but the idea of roaming a hospice like some lost i***t wasn’t exactly appealing.
So, naturally, his feet led him right back to Nathaniel’s room.
The moment he stepped inside, he was met with complete silence. The usual snarky greeting never came. Instead, Nathaniel was fast asleep, his breathing steady, his expression slack with exhaustion.
For the first time since meeting him, Wes saw him without that usual smirk or those sharp, amused eyes. Without the sarcasm and arrogance, he just looked… tired.
A nurse entered a few moments later, checking Nathaniel’s IV drip.
Wes, who had been idly watching from the doorway, frowned and crossed his arms. “He’s out cold. Thought you rich folks didn’t nap in the middle of the day.”
The nurse, unfazed, glanced at him. “He didn’t sleep well last night. He was in pain, and the medication only started kicking in this morning.”
Wes blinked. “Oh.”
That explained why Nathaniel had been even more annoying than usual.
The nurse adjusted a few things on the monitor, then turned back to him. “Don’t bother him while he’s resting.”
Wes scoffed. “Please. I don’t even wanna be here.”
The nurse gave him a skeptical look before leaving, the door clicking shut behind her.
Wes stood there for a long moment, hands in his pockets, staring at Nathaniel’s sleeping form.
He could leave.
Go back to the lounge, pretend to care about an article on rare Italian wines.
But instead, he pulled the armchair closer to the bed and sat down.
He wasn’t sure why.
Maybe it was boredom.
Maybe it was something else.
Either way, he made himself comfortable, grabbed the remote off the nightstand, and turned on the TV.
Muted.
He wasn’t even paying attention to what was on the screen. Some old black-and-white movie, probably something classy and expensive. Not his thing.
But for some reason, he didn’t mind the silence.
It didn’t take long before the boredom finally caught up to him. His head lolled back against the chair, his eyelids grew heavier, and before he knew it—
He was out.
Nathaniel woke up to the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains.
For a brief moment, he felt groggy, his body still sluggish from the medication.
Then he noticed something odd.
Seated beside his bed, head tilted back against the armchair, was Wes.
Asleep.
A remote dangled loosely from his fingers, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm.
Nathaniel’s gaze shifted to the TV.
It was on, but completely silent.
His lips twitched.
“Didn’t take you for the type to watch old movies, Wesley.”
No response.
Wes was out cold.
Nathaniel smirked but didn’t say anything else.
The last thing he wanted to do was wake him.
Because for once—just once—he wasn’t being annoying.
When Wes finally stirred, it was because of a very deliberate noise.
A loud thud, like something hitting the bedside table.
His eyes cracked open, and he groaned, rubbing the side of his face where it had been pressed against his fist. “What the hell—?”
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Nathaniel drawled, looking entirely too amused. He was sitting up slightly, one arm resting on his stomach, the other near the edge of the bed where he had clearly dropped something to wake Wes up.
Wes sat up, stretching his arms with a grunt. “How long was I out?”
“Long enough that I almost thought you’d died too. Tragic, really. Two corpses in one room would’ve been such a hassle for the staff.”
Wes rolled his eyes and looked at the TV. It was still playing the same old movie, though now the screen had dimmed slightly due to inactivity. “You seriously didn’t change the channel?”
“Didn’t want to wake you. You seemed so comfortable.”
Wes scoffed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Well, next time, let me die in peace.”
Nathaniel smirked. “Noted.”
There was a brief silence.
Wes glanced at him. “You sleep okay?”
Nathaniel’s smirk faded slightly. He looked toward the window, as if considering his answer. Then he shrugged. “Better than last night.”
That was all he said, but it was enough for Wes to get the point.
The medicine must have worked.
And, despite himself, he was glad for that.
But, of course, he wasn’t about to say that.
Instead, he grabbed the remote and finally unmuted the TV. The sound of an old-timey orchestra filled the room.
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “You actually like this movie?”
Wes blinked at the screen. He still had no idea what was playing. “Sure. Classic.”
Nathaniel snorted. “You don’t even know what it’s called, do you?”
Wes didn’t even hesitate. “Nope.”
Nathaniel huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”
The teasing was still there, but it lacked its usual sharp edge.
It almost sounded… lighthearted.
Wes leaned back into his chair, resting his ankle on his knee. “So, what do you usually do for fun around here, chairman?”
Nathaniel gave him a look. “Did you just call me chairman?”
“Well, that’s what your scary men in suits called you, isn’t it?”
Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t mean you get to say it.”
“Too late. It’s growing on me.”
Nathaniel exhaled through his nose. “Wonderful.”
Silence stretched between them again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
For once, there was no arguing. No sarcastic jabs that carried any real malice.
Just the quiet hum of the movie playing in the background.
After a while, Nathaniel’s voice broke the silence.
“I usually read.”
Wes turned his head toward him. “Huh?”
Nathaniel looked at him, expression unreadable. “You asked what I do for fun. I read.”
Wes blinked, not expecting an actual answer. “Like, rich-people books? Political s**t?”
Nathaniel scoffed. “I am rich, but no. I read whatever interests me.”
Wes smirked. “So, smut.”
Nathaniel didn’t even flinch. “Absolutely.”
Wes barked out a laugh. “Knew it.”
Nathaniel smirked. “Gotta live vicariously somehow.”
Wes was still grinning when he leaned back again, staring at the ceiling.
He didn’t know why, but this didn’t feel as suffocating as he thought it would.
Maybe it was the quiet.
Maybe it was the lack of expectations.
Or maybe, just maybe, Nathaniel wasn’t as unbearable as he’d first assumed.
- Writer
