Part 2: The Cracks in the Steel
The next morning, the kitchen smelled like toast, jam, and jasmine shampoo.
Aaron stood by the sink, drinking his coffee, shirtless as usual. He heard the faint shuffle of bare feet behind him. That gentle, too-careful rhythm. He didn't have to turn to know who it was.
"Morning," Eli said softly.
Aaron just grunted.
Eli moved past him, too close, reaching up to grab a plate from the cabinet. He was wearing a small ribbed tank top and high-waisted sweatpants, the kind that hugged his narrow waist and soft hips. His frame was lean, but curved just enough to be confusing — too delicate to ignore, too graceful to dismiss.
Aaron stepped aside — or thought he did — but his shoulder brushed Eli's back. The boy tensed just slightly, then looked over his shoulder.
Their eyes met again.
There was that silence. Like heat between glass.
"Sorry," Eli said. "Didn't mean to—"
"You're fine," Aaron muttered, stepping away. Too fast.
He busied himself with his cup, trying to ignore the ghost of Eli's warmth on his skin.
Later that afternoon, Mia came bouncing into the living room, excited.
"Babe, I think I got the internship!" she said, holding her phone up. "It's unpaid, but it could lead to a job in two months. Eli's interview is next week, right?"
Aaron looked up from the couch. Eli nodded from where he sat, legs tucked under him, scrolling through job listings.
"That's great," Aaron said flatly. "Good for you."
"Yeah," Mia beamed. "If it works out, we'll finally get our own place. Just a studio or something. Doesn't need to be fancy."
Aaron's jaw tensed.
He looked at Eli. The boy was still looking at his screen. But his eyes had flicked upward at that last sentence. Just a glance. But Aaron saw it.
A flicker of hesitation. A pause. A kind of sadness.
And Aaron felt something cold twist in his gut.
"You don't have to rush out," he said suddenly. "You're not in the way."
Mia blinked. "Seriously?"
Aaron shrugged. "Just saying. The place is big enough. I've got the space."
Eli turned slowly, and for the first time, smiled at him — soft, maybe grateful, maybe something else.
"That's… really kind of you," he said.
Aaron didn't respond.
He just stood up, muttered something about working out, and left the room.
But the warmth of that voice stuck in his ears like a fevered dream.
That night, Aaron couldn't sleep again.
He didn't hear whispering this time.
He heard humming.
Soft. Almost feminine. Coming from the bathroom.
He opened the door to grab a towel from the hall closet — but the bathroom door was slightly ajar, and steam curled out into the dim corridor.
Inside, Eli stood in front of the mirror, shirtless.
The boy's frame was slim, and his skin pale and damp from the shower. He wore nothing but a small pair of black boxer-briefs, clinging to him like a second skin.
He was applying moisturizer. Soft fingers smoothing lotion across his thighs, his stomach, up toward his chest — where the faintest curves had formed naturally, more supple than sharp.… nature's art in a slender boy's body.
Aaron froze.
Eli hadn't seen him. Not yet.
Aaron knew he should turn. Walk away.
But he didn't.
Eli's hands moved slowly, deliberately. His eyes met his own in the mirror — and then he paused.
He had seen Aaron in the reflection.
They both stood still. The steam hissed softly from the shower pipe.
Then Eli smiled — slowly, deliberately — and finished applying the lotion across his collarbones.
"Couldn't sleep again?" he asked without turning.
Aaron's mouth was dry. His fists clenched at his sides.
"Didn't mean to stare," he said finally, voice low.
Eli turned around fully now, water still glistening on his skin. He stepped forward into the doorway.
"I don't mind," he said.
A beat passed between them — long, heavy, electric.
Then Eli walked past Aaron, brushing against his chest — featherlight. Like silk and heat and danger.
Aaron stood there a full minute longer, jaw tight, breath shallow.
His control was cracking. He could feel it.
The next day, Aaron started leaving the door to his home gym open.
Not wide — just a little.
Just enough for someone curious to peek in.
And that afternoon, Eli did.
He stood in the doorway, barefoot, in one of Mia's oversized hoodies, watching as Aaron grunted through deadlifts, veins pulsing, sweat dripping.
"You really do this every day?" Eli asked, voice soft.
"Every damn day," Aaron panted, letting the bar down. He grabbed a towel and wiped his face. "Body doesn't build itself."
"I can see that," Eli said — and this time, his smile wasn't shy. It was darker. Braver.
Aaron caught it. Felt it crawl under his skin.
"You want something?" he asked, tossing the towel aside.
Eli leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"Maybe," he said. "Maybe I just like watching."
Aaron's heart thudded in his chest.
He turned back to the weights — but his hands trembled slightly on the bar.
He didn't tell Eli to leave.
[To Be Continued — Part 3 will show Eli becoming bolder and Aaron growing dangerously possessive. A subtle rivalry with Mia will also begin to simmer as she senses the shift.]