Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chance didn't really like studying.

Like sure, he knew it was important, yeah—but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it. He had preferred to guess the answers, cramming last minute stuff. He was too busy partying, trying not to miss out on the latest party. What's another party, just another shot? After all, you only lived once!

Turns out, he wasn't as lucky as he thought. He had always got by cramming, guessing—but it looks like he couldn't get away with it anymore. All those missed lessons had started to add up, and now he was behind on... everything.

He sits there, staring at his exam grade. How the fuck had he gotten a 7%?

He opens it, flipping through the pages. Oh. This was the paper he had turned in hungover.

Yeah, that made sense.

He still remembers the professor telling him to stay back afterwards, stressing that he needed to buck up for finals. If not, he could kiss his position in the school goodbye. He agreed quickly, already annoyed. Just another old geezer, nodding his head off. He had places to be!

He stands outside the office, looking almost lost, like he had been kicked out. He lets out a frustrated huff, then chucks the paper into his bag, before making his way back to the dorm. He needed a drink. Desperately.

And there, in front of his dorm, was a guy. Blonde hair, blue eyes. They were one of Chance’s classmates, to be specific. He had seen him in his classes sometimes—on the rare occasions he did attend—but other than that, nothing much. He was kind of cute, honestly. Not that Chance would ever admit that out loud, though.

What was his name again? iTrapped, was it...?

They were waiting there, checking his watch every once in a while. He was leaning against the doorway, his lips drawn tight, almost in a frown. His gaze was distant, but the moment he heard Chance's footsteps, he immediately looked up.

"Finally. I was wondering when you would get here."

Chance raises an eyebrow, then takes a step forward. "Were you waiting for me?"

iTrapped nods. He's already looking at Chance expectantly, and clicking his tongue in annoyance. "Come on, we don't have all day, you know?"

Chance slides his sunglasses down, just to get a better look at the guy. "Excuse me, but who even are you?"

iTrapped gives him a deadpan look. "Wow. You really skip your classes, huh?"

Chance crosses his arms, clearly offended. "It's none of your business."

iTrapped merely scoffs. "Actually, it is."

He takes a step forward, then plucks Chance's sunglasses off his face entirely.

"Hey—!" Chance reaches forward, trying to grab it, but iTrapped holds it high over his head. "Give it back!"

What an asshole!

iTrapped just looks down at him, almost disappointed. "It's hopeless, I tell you."

Finally, with a huff, he hands the glasses back to him. "Here you go."

Chance snatches it back, and immediately slides it back on his face. "What the hell was that all about?"

iTrapped sighs, then pulls out his phone. He scrolls for a second, then pulls up a number. On iTrapped's phone, it reads as an unknown number—but Chance recognises it immediately.

His parents? Why did they call him?

"Did my parents hire you to babysit me or somethin'?"

iTrapped grits his teeth. "Tutor. They want me to tutor you."

Jeez. Did his parents really think he was that hopeless?

"Sure, sure..." He begins, trying to act nonchalant. "Why would they choose you of all people, anyway? You don't seem eager at all."

"I'm the top of the class. It's to be expected." iTrapped shrugs. "Plus, they pay me well."

"Now, get your ass inside. We don't have any time to waste."

Chance, reluctantly, follows him inside. He can't disobey his parents, after all...

But couldn't they have gotten anyone else? Getting a guy his age and from his class? How embarrassing...

Well, here goes nothing.

The first lesson... wasn't too bad. Rushed, and full of bickering, sure—but at least Chance could say he knew something from the class. Even if it was a small fraction of what he was supposed to cover. Maybe he was more screwed than he thought.

But who cares, anyway? He's just here for the ride.

They had more sessions, with each and every one becoming more frequent. Over time, Chance got to know iTrapped better. Eventually, they started having extra sessions, just to help Chance with the content—and maybe, he might have wanted to spend more time with iTrapped too.

Hey! He was studying too, you know? Trying to work hard and stuff... It just couldn't be helped that iTrapped was kind of cute. Just a little bit.

Okay, maybe a lot. Maybe that was another reason why Chance didn't want to miss their sessions, even if they had to switch locations around a lot.

At the beginning, they kept changing locations—Chance’s room was “full of distractions,” as iTrapped had put it. At first, they tried studying at the library, but were quickly kicked out because Chance was too loud. He couldn’t help it—seeing all the stuff he had to memorize always made him groan in pure misery, earning more than a few glares from nearby students.

Then they moved to a park, but it was always too hot, and the constant noise made it impossible to focus. Eventually, Chance suggested a cafe nearby, but iTrapped declined, calling it “unnecessary” and “too expensive.”

That is, until Chance offers to pay. After that, iTrapped immediately agreed.

So here they were, studying. At least, trying to. Chance was already done—they had spent the past two hours going through the stuff, but he couldn't understand a damn thing!

"Are you even listening to me?" iTrapped asks, glancing at Chance. Chance, however, was staring down at his book, annoyed.

"Yes, I am, but..." He slams the book down to the table, frustration flashing across his face. "I don't get any of this!"

He runs a hand through his hair, yanking it roughly. "I'm so screwed..."

iTrapped reaches out, his hand brushing gently against Chance’s before he pulls back slightly, stopping short. "Don’t say that. You still have time."

Chance turns to him, startled by the sudden touch. "Do you really think someone like me can pass?"

iTrapped pauses for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the question. Then he offers a reassuring smile. "Of course. I’m the one who taught you, after all."

Chance lets out a soft chuckle. "I guess you’re right..."

iTrapped smiles back. For once, his chilly exterior softens. "Why don’t we take a break? It’s no good cramming everything in one sitting."

"Good idea," Chance groans, setting the book down more gently this time. "I need something to drink."

"No alcohol, Chance," iTrapped reminds him, giving him a stern look.

"Fine, fine… a coffee, then. Maybe some cake too," Chance mutters, scratching his chin thoughtfully. He glances at iTrapped, tilting his head slightly. "And you?"

"A tea would be nice," iTrapped replies with a small nod of gratitude. "Thanks."

Chance nods, then heads to the counter. The cafe is fairly empty now, so there isn’t much of a queue. He scans the display—cakes of all kinds, each one looking more tempting than the last—his eyes lingering over the options as he weighs his choices.

Chocolate cake... That sounds good.

"Hello! How may I help you today?" The waiter smiles, his cheerful voice pulling Chance out of his thoughts. He turns back immediately. Despite Chance’s brief silence, the waiter still keeps smiling warmly at him. He’s dressed in red, a nametag pinned neatly to his chest—Elliot.

"Sir?"

Chance blinks. He realizes Elliot has been looking at him, waiting for his answer. "Sorry, uh..."

"Can I get a cup of tea, a coffee, a slice of chocolate cake, and..."

He glances back at the cakes behind the glass display, letting his eyes linger over each one. He isn’t sure what flavor iTrapped likes. The guy always eats plain sandwiches, claiming he wants to “save up”—just plain bread with the thinnest smear of jam—so Chance has no clue what he would actually enjoy.

"A slice of strawberry cheesecake," he finishes, pulling out his wallet to pay. He hands him a bill, and Elliot nods, before taking it. "I’ll be right there with your order, sir! Please, have a seat."

Chance thanks him, drops a small tip in the nearby jar, and tucks his wallet back into his pocket. The coins clink softly as he turns and walks back to the table, running a hand through his hair.

"Took you long enough."

Chance chuckles as he slides back into his seat. "Did you miss me?"

"In your dreams," iTrapped teases, but there’s a playful smile tugging at his lips. For a moment, everything feels calm—almost like it's a date, a moment of silence between the two of them. Then, iTrapped reaches into his bag and pulls out a neatly bound stack of papers, setting them gently on the table between them.

"Here. This is for you."

Chance raises an eyebrow and takes the stack. "What is it?" he asks, flipping through the pages. There are countless sheets of handwritten notes inside—all in iTrapped’s elegant handwriting.

Handwritten notes.

"I... had some extra time. Thought you might need it," iTrapped murmurs, his fingers fidgeting slightly against the table. He looks nervous, almost like he’s handing over a precious gift.

The sight makes Chance’s heart skip a beat. How sweet of him…

Chance’s fingers brush over one of the pages, eyes scanning the careful, precise lines. He must have spent so much time on this—there were so many pages of notes.

"Aww, you really didn’t have to..."

"It’s fine." iTrapped scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, his gaze darting away. "Don’t... worry too much about it, yeah?"

Chance nods, though iTrapped still notices the hesitation in his eyes. After a moment, he gently takes Chance’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You’re trying your best… I can see that."

He pauses for a moment, then adds softly, "You can do it, Chance." He looks at him this time, offering a small, earnest smile. "So don’t give up, okay?"

"Alright..." Chance murmurs, a little dazed. He’s more caught up in the fact that iTrapped is still holding his hand—and it feels... nice. Comforting. His hand is warm. Really warm.

Chance looks away, pretending to focus on something else as heat creeps up his cheeks. He hopes they don’t notice.

"Apologies for the wait! Here’s your order!" Elliot’s cheerful voice cuts through the moment, interrupting the obvious tension. He carefully places two plates of cake—chocolate and strawberry cheesecake—and two cups, one tea and one coffee. Steam rises from the mugs as he sets them down.

iTrapped blinks, immediately looking perplexed. "Sorry, I think there’s been a mix-up..." He gestures toward the plate. "I didn’t order this cake."

Elliot frowns, looking confused. "Well, I thought—"

Chance gives iTrapped a light tap on the arm. "It’s fine, I ordered it."

He turns back to Elliot. "Thank you."

Elliot nods, still smiling. "Enjoy!" he exclaims, before hurrying off to another table.

iTrapped looks back at Chance, eyebrows raised, and begins to push the plate of strawberry cheesecake across the table. "I didn’t know you were that hungry. You should’ve told me sooner—I would’ve given you a break."

"What are you saying?" Chance stops the plate with his hand and gently slides it back toward iTrapped. "It’s for you, silly!"

"It is?" iTrapped tilts his head, eyes flicking between Chance and the cake. "Chance, you shouldn’t have..."

"It’s a gift. A treat from me," Chance says with a grin. When iTrapped opens his mouth to protest, Chance places a hand on his shoulder, firm but gentle. "Please, let’s just eat, okay?"

iTrapped hesitates for a moment, then finally nods in acceptance. "Thank you," he murmurs softly.

Chance smiles, satisfied, and picks up his spoon. The metal clinks softly against the plate as he scoops a generous bite of cake. iTrapped follows, taking a small, careful spoonful.

"Mm," iTrapped hums, closing his eyes as he savors the taste. "It’s really good. I haven’t had cake in so long."

Chance smiles, resting his chin on his palm. "I’m glad you like it."

iTrapped’s lips curve into a gentle smile, and Chance feels his heart skip a beat. He finds himself staring—at the softness of their expression, at the way the light catches their ocean-blue eyes. He doesn’t notice how long he’s been looking until iTrapped shifts slightly, raising an eyebrow.

"You okay, Chance? You’ve been staring at me for the past minute."

"Oh! Uhh—" Chance nearly dropped his spoon. He fumbles for it, trying to play it off. "I was wondering if you wanted to try some of my cake…?" he offers, voice a little weak.

iTrapped nods. "Sure." He scoops a generous helping of strawberry cake and gently places it on Chance’s plate.

Chance, however, doesn’t move to return the favor. Instead, he shoots iTrapped a cheeky smile, lifting his spoon and hovering it teasingly in the air.

iTrapped blinks. "What are you doing?"

Chance chuckles. "Say ahh."

iTrapped’s face immediately flushes red. "I’m not doing that, Chance!"

"Just once," Chance teases. "I won’t complain about my work after this!"

"Won’t complain, huh…" iTrapped tilts his head, pretending to actually consider his ridiculous offer. "You promise?"

Chance nods eagerly. "I promise."

iTrapped exhales, lips twitching. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

Chance waits, spoon still raised expectantly. iTrapped meets his gaze, then exhales loudly, in surrender. He opens his mouth. "Ah."

Chance feeds him the spoonful of cake, watching closely as iTrapped chews, thoughtful. He tries to act casual, but Chance notices the faint flick of his tongue as he licks his lips, savoring the taste.

Chance quickly looks away, heat rising in his cheeks. I can’t believe he actually agreed…

iTrapped wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then glances up. "Don’t forget about your promise."

"Yeah, I won’t," Chance says, laughing nervously. Then he pauses, noticing a smear of custard at the corner of iTrapped’s lips. He gestures subtly. "You’ve got a little something right there."

"I do?" iTrapped blinks, glancing around. "I don’t have any napkins…"

"Not a problem." Chance reaches out, his movements careful. He lightly wipes the bit of custard from iTrapped’s cheek. For the briefest moment, his fingers brush against the corner of their lips, and he swears he hears a soft hitch in their breath.

He pulls back quickly, his heart hammering in his ears. For a moment, he’s tempted to taste the sweetness of the cake on his fingers—but instead, he wipes it on his pants.

iTrapped stares at him, unamused. "I’ll pretend I didn’t see that."

Chance laughs, a little too quickly, but he can’t help glancing back at their lips—soft, faintly glossy from the cake—and wonders how it would feel to kiss them, just once. What a cute guy…

Oh. He’s… falling hard, isn't he?

Yeah, he's screwed.

Chapter Text

One day before the big test.

iTrapped and Chance had been up late, just studying before the big day. Chance was hunched over his textbook, looking through the various questions. Meanwhile, iTrapped sat on another chair nearby, quietly watching him flip through his notes, and correcting any errors he made along the way.

They were in Chance’s dorm room—it was much more spacious than the others, yet filled with clutter. However, it was the only place that allowed them to stay up this late without interruption, so they had to make do. iTrapped decided to pick up one of the worksheets from the table—Chance’s past work—and quickly skimmed through it. After a moment, he sighed and pointed at a page.

“You almost had it,” he murmured, tapping at an incorrect answer on the paper. “You just messed up one part—there’s a careless mistake here.”

Chance groaned in response, and slumped deeper into the couch. “I think I’m screwed…”

“No, you’re not,” iTrapped replied firmly, giving them a light pat on the shoulder. “Stop being so pessimistic, Chance.”

Chance simply grumbled something under his breath—something that iTrapped couldn't hear. They return to silence for a few seconds, until a low rumble echoes through the quiet room. It's his stomach.

“Oops,” he begins, trying to laugh it off. He scratched the back of his neck, clearly feeling awkward. “Sorry, I’m just hungry, y’know?”

iTrapped simply sighs. Of course he was hungry—they both hadn't had dinner yet. He stands up, pushes his chair back, and makes his way towards the mini kitchen in the corner of the room—it’s not big, but it's enough to make something. For now, it will have to do. He glances at the fridge, before looking through some cabinets. “Do you have anything to eat?”

“Uh… just some stuff, here and there,” Chance muttered, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m not sure—I don’t really cook.”

iTrapped finds nothing in the cabinets, so he turns to the fridge. But when he opens it, and sees what's inside, he can't help but frown. It contained only a few wilted vegetables, a couple half-empty jars of sauce, and a suspicious-looking carton of milk—definitely way past its expiration date. “Yeah, I can tell."

Next, he checks the drawer below. There are rows of instant noodles, and canned goods inside. "All of this… What do you even eat?"

Chance chuckled sheepishly, embarrassed. “I usually order takeout. It’s… more convenient.”

“Of course—ugh.” iTrapped murmurs, before pinching the bridge of his nose at the smell. There were a couple plastic containers of… questionable leftovers, ones which he picked up, and tossed them straight into the bin. “I think some of this has gone bad.”

“Sorry, I ain’t exactly a master chef.”

“I know.” iTrapped continues to rummage through what was left—he finds some vegetables and a couple of eggs, and a couple of other ingredients that haven't completely gone bad. He sets them neatly on the counter, then steps back, taking a moment to think. “Hmm… I think I can work with this.”

While iTrapped began to cook, Chance’s attention drifted back to his work. He scribbled something, checked the correct answer, then sighed, rubbing his temple in frustration. Wrong again.

Maybe he should… take a break?

At that moment, warm, savoury aroma started to fill the room. Chance looks over to iTrapped—they’re quietly chopping up the vegetables, and mixing something into a pot. After much deliberation, he finally stood up and wandered over, curiosity getting the better of him.

“What are you making? It smells good.” Chance asks, before leaning forward, peering over iTrapped’s shoulder—it looks like some kind of creamy sauce, sauce bubbling softly in the pan.

"It's something I learned to make online," iTrapped replies, giving the sauce a quick stir. A faint wisp of steam curls up from the pan, carrying the rich aroma of butter and garlic. It nearly makes Chance’s mouth water. "Want to try some?"

Chance nods eagerly. "Of course!"

iTrapped chuckles under his breath, shaking his head in amusement. He grabs a nearby spoon, and scoops a bit of the sauce. He pauses, bringing it close to his lips to give it a gentle blow—just to cool it down—before offering it to Chance.

"Here you go."

Chance takes it, and gives the sauce a hesitant lick. His eyes light up almost instantly—it’s tasty, and perfectly seasoned. Before he knows it, he's licked the entire spoon clean.

"How is it?" iTrapped asks, his expression unreadable. It seems that he's steeling himself for something—there’s a flicker of nervousness in his eyes as he waits for Chance’s verdict.

Chance simply grins and gives him a big thumbs-up. "It’s good!"

Upon seeing Chance’s reaction, iTrapped lets out a small breath of relief and smiles. "Glad you like it."

Chance then leans against the counter, deciding to watch him stir the pan—it was so much more enjoyable than studying. "It’s way better than those sandwiches of yours! Why don’t you cook like this all the time?"

At that, iTrapped freezes for a second, spoon hovering midair. "I… It’s inconvenient. I don’t have the time."

"Figures," Chance teases, flashing them a playful wink. "Too busy tutoring me, huh?"

iTrapped lets out a quiet huff, turning his focus back to the sauce. "...Something like that."

"Well… let’s go out more, okay? I promise I’ll treat you next time!"

iTrapped nods in agreement, but his expression melts into something almost uncertain. "Sure."

But Chance doesn’t notice—he’s already too distracted by the smell of the food. He must be really hungry…

Eventually, iTrapped finishes cooking and serves the meal. He gives Chance a generous helping, and sets the dish on the table in front of him. Then, he turns back to prepare his own plate. Chance is already eager to eat—he begins to dig in, without waiting for iTrapped. He twirls his fork, and takes one bite—the sauce is tasty, and the noodles are perfectly cooked—it’s so good. He eats faster in mouthfuls, almost inhaling the food.

“Holy shit."

When iTrapped returns with his own plate, he pauses. As he watches Chance practically devour the meal, a small, amused smile appears on his lips. Without thinking, he reaches out and pats Chance lightly on the head.

"Don’t eat so fast, silly," he says softly. "You’ll choke.”

At the sudden contact, Chance stiffens, immediately stopping to eat. He looks up, and stares at iTrapped in disbelief. iTrapped’s hand still lingers on his hair, warm and strangely comforting. For a second, neither of them moves—until iTrapped realises what he’s done. He pulls his hand back as though he’s been burned, and his eyes go wide in shock.

"Uh, pretend I didn’t—"

Chance just smiles, lips curling into an amused grin. "I wouldn’t mind another."

That statement makes iTrapped freeze. His earlier composure cracks, and a faint blush creeps across his cheeks. He quickly turns away, trying to hide how red he’s turning. "Forget it," he mutters, pretending to be annoyed. "I must be tired."

Chance leans back in his chair, smirking. He sets his fork down on the plate and stretches lazily, watching iTrapped try to hide his embarrassment. "If I pass..." he begins, voice light yet teasing, "...will you give me another?"

iTrapped groans softly. His ears are visibly pink now. "Whatever you want."

Chance tilts his head, grinning wider. He props his chin on his hand, leaning forward just enough to meet iTrapped’s gaze. "Whatever, huh? That’s a lot to offer."

iTrapped exhales sharply, finally glancing at him again. His expression is seemingly annoyed, almost exasperated with Chance’s antics—but underneath, they still hold that same fondness. "Just focus on passing your test first," he reminds him, attempting to sound stern.

Chance pouts dramatically, slumping against his chair. "Fine..."

After that, they go back to studying—well, only after Chance finishes the last of his pasta, while savoring every bite. The two of them sit huddled around the bed, papers spread everywhere, with notes highlighted and marked with frantic scribbles. The room is quiet except for the occasional remark from iTrapped and the sound of Chance flipping through pages of past work.

Eventually, iTrapped glances at the clock—and realises how late it was. "It’s… getting late. We should call it a night—you still need to wake up early tomorrow."

Chance looks up, confused. "Wait, shouldn’t I just study more—?"

But iTrapped shakes his head, the movement firm yet gentle. "It’s not good to cram so much the night before. You’ll remember more if you rest."

Chance looks back at his notes, before uncertainly glancing up at iTrapped. "Are you sure...?"

"I’m positive."

"Alright then..."

With that, iTrapped begins to pack Chance’s books neatly in their bag. Meanwhile, Chance helps to gather the scattered notes around them, stacking them into a messy pile before straightening them to fit. Once everything’s been put away, iTrapped hands the bag to Chance, before picking up his own bag, and making his way over to the door. When they reach it, he pauses, turning to face Chance.

"Goodnight, Chance."

Chance nods as well—he’s already beginning to feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. "Thanks... you too."

iTrapped smiles softly. “Sleep well,” he murmurs, bidding Chance a quiet farewell. Then, he opens the door and steps out into the quiet hallway.

And Chance stands there for a moment, staring as they leave his room. Something tightens in his chest, and he lets out a small sigh. He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He stores the leftover pasta in the fridge, before crawling into bed. As he pulls the blanket over himself, sleep comes easily—yet somehow, his dreams are filled with… iTrapped.

He dreams of them—the way they always pretended to be tough, but had a pretty spot underneath. He had such a sweet voice, and such captivating eyes—they looked like sapphires, shining under the light. And their lips… they always looked so sweet when they smiled, if only he could—

Chance jolts awake, his heart racing. He lies there, dazed—he can't believe he was dreaming of such a thing! He glances around, trying to distract himself—and his gaze lands on the clock.

"Oh shit!"

He bolts upright, and realises he’s running late for the test—he must have overslept! He quickly throws on his clothes, grabs his notes, and rushes to get ready. His adrenaline starts to kick in, and his mind is a mess. But despite all of his rushing, he still remembers the one thing he needs to do—

He just needs to pass the exam. Nothing more, nothing less. Passing… would be enough.

He darts toward the exam hall, his heart nervously pounding in his chest. The corridor is lined with anxious students, each and every one worried for the test. Luckily, they were still outside—that means the exam hadn't started yet.

Chance takes a deep breath, trying to relax some of the tension off his shoulders. Just right when he was deciding whether to go inside or not, his phone buzzed. He fishes it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen—and smiles when he sees the message. It’s a text from iTrapped.

You’ll do just fine, Chance. Don’t worry too much about it, okay? Good luck!

Chance stares at it for a moment, surprised. Those words from iTrapped… It makes the nervousness in his chest fade, and the weight on his shoulders feels lighter, somehow. iTrapped always knew what to say, huh? He quickly sends a reply—just a simple heart emoji as a response—and tucks the phone away, back into his pocket.

“Alright… Time to do this.”

A few hours later, the exam is finally over.

He did it. He actually did it—he finished it! Sure, there were a few parts—okay, a lot—that he couldn't quite get, but he was able to answer most of the questions without guessing this time! That had to count for something, right?

He runs a hand through his hair, exhausted. At least… It's over now. He walks out of the exam hall, then pulls out his phone from his pocket again. iTrapped’s earlier message appears, lighting up his screen.

He’s a really nice guy. Sure, his parents might be paying him, but still… Without iTrapped, he wouldn't even have made it to this point—he would have probably tried to skip the exam or something. Chance really should thank him properly. Maybe he could get a gift… A tie, perhaps? He always did like to wear those fancy button downs. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea—

“Yo! Chance!”

Someone calls out for him, and it breaks him out of his chain of thought. He turns around to the direction of the sound, only to see…

Contractee. He’s running down the corridor, with his black cap and matching slacks. When he reaches Chance, he has to inhale sharply to catch his breath—but that doesn't wipe off the wide grin he has, plastered on his face. Consigliere is standing behind him, strolling about casually, with his hands in his pockets. Both of them were part of the old crowd Chance used to hang out with, before things got… complicated.

Contractee reaches out to him first, and gives him a hearty slap on the back. “Man, how’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Chance, caught off guard by the hit, stumbles slightly before regaining his balance. “Sorry, I’ve just been busy with finals," he murmurs, shrugging nonchalantly. "You know how it is, yeah?”

Contractee simply grins wider, and throws his arm around their shoulder. He tugs them closer, nearly whispering in his ear. “Well, it’s over now, right? I heard that Mafioso’s throwing a huge party tonight. You have to come.”

Normally, Chance would be eager for such an event. But after everything… He can't help but hesitate. Sure, he hasn't been to one in a while, and it would be nice to unwind after all that stress. But still—

“I heard the guy you’ve been eyeing’s gonna to be there too.”

Now that sentence gets Chance’s attention. He looks up, only to see Consigliere smiling knowingly—like he’s caught Chance in some sort of trap. He taps his chin slowly, pretending to be deep in thought.

“What was his name again… iTrapped, was it?”

Contractee’s eyes light up in recognition, and he snaps his fingers. “Yeah, that’s him!”

“He is?" Chance asks, curious. His face is nearly going red in embarrassment—was it really that obvious?

"Wait, I’m not eyeing him!”

Consigliere snorts. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

“So, are you coming or not? I need to tell him how many folks to expect. I know Mafioso would be… pleased to see you.”

Chance hesitates again, chewing on the inside of his cheek. If iTrapped was really going to be there... and it’s not like he had anything else planned tonight. He deserved a break after all that studying, right?

“Alright. Only for a little while, though.”

Contractee cheers, ruffling Chance’s hair with a grin. “Hell yeah! That’s the Chance I remember!”

Consigliere, however, only gives him a sly, knowing look. “Looking forward to seeing you later, old pal.” He claps Chance on the shoulder, then turns to leave with Contractee.

“Haha, yeah…” Chance forces a nervous laugh, and somehow even manages a smile. But the moment they disappear from the corner, his smile fades from his face.

He really has been studying a lot, huh?

His shoulders sag slightly, his exhaustion finally settling in. He exhales, shoving his hands into his pockets, his mind lingering back to his thoughts of iTrapped.

Huh. He never really pictured them as the party type. The guy seemed more quiet and studious than most—and he had never even seen him at a party before. Guess there was always more to people than they let on…

Oh. He still needs to buy a gift for them.

And so, he doesn't head back to his dorm immediately. Instead, he decides to take a walk outside of the campus—to look around at the streets, and do some window shopping—to find a gift for iTrapped. Now that the exam is over, he feels a little freer now, with one less worry to add to the pile.

Then, he passes by something that catches his eye. A dark blue tie, displayed right by the shop’s windows—and the colour reminds him of iTrapped’s eyes. Before he can think twice, he steps inside and buys it—it’ll make the perfect gift for them. Maybe he’ll give it to them tonight, as a thank-you for all they’ve done for him.

Finally, he returns to his dorm to get ready. He pulls out a crisp, yet casual white blouse, and a pair of loose black pants. It seems a little formal—but it's nothing that will make him stand out too much. He ruffles his hair once, smoothing out any knots, before checking his reflection one last time.

“I hope I’ll see you there too."

Mafioso’s place is impossible to miss—everyone practically knows where it is. Chance can already hear the loud music playing from outside. He walks towards the door, and opens it—only to find Mafioso himself is waiting there, as if he had been expecting him all along.

“So glad you could make it, dear Chance."

"Yeah. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chance quickly tries to change the subject, though—he knows it's best to steer clear of such discussions, especially when it comes to people like Mafioso. “How’s Gubby doing? Feeling better?”

At that, Mafioso’s expression softens. He smiles gently, but his gold tooth still shines under the light—it’s a flashy little thing, always drawing attention wherever he goes. And with it, sparks so many rumours—about him being a part of an infamous gang, to having rich, wealthy parents—but Chance knows the truth. The guy lost it in a fight gone wrong. He could have gotten something else as a replacement, but he specifically chose a gold tooth—he claimed it made the freshmen nervous so they wouldn't mess with him, and made the professors think twice about giving him a bad grade. Chance thinks it's the latter.

Honestly, Chance thought the guy was hilarious. He liked to act all tough and scary, but he’s just a big softie. Sometimes. Well, only when it came to his pet rabbit. Hell, he’s even pet Gubby a few times himself—such a sweet little thing. It's a shame it was so unlike its owner, but that was a topic for another day.

“Gubby’s been doing fine… Though I appreciate you asking.”

He turns to the side, and with a flick of his hand, Consigliere appears from the crowd. He’s carrying a tray of drinks, each and every one a different colour.

“Would you like a drink?” Mafioso asks, gesturing towards the tray. “Consigliere’s been experimenting with some new mixes lately.”

He grabs one—a glass, filled with dark red liquid—then downs it with a practiced ease. “It’s quite good, I must admit.”

For a moment, Chance hesitates. He… hadn't exactly planned on getting drunk tonight. Sure, it was a party, so he should celebrate, but still… Plus, their drinks were always heavy on the alcohol. He can't even remember the number of times he nearly blacked out from taking too many shots for a bit.

Consigliere raises an eyebrow, and Mafioso picks up a glass—a liquid, mixed into dark blue—and offers it to Chance. “Come on, it's just one glass. You look like you could use it."

Finally, Chance sighs, and accepts it. It's just a glass, what harm could it do?

“Thanks. I’m sure it's great."

Mafioso smiles, before placing a firm, reassuring hand on their shoulder. “Good. Remember, it's a celebration—make sure to enjoy yourself.”

And just like that, he’s gone, with Consigliere following close behind. As they disappear, Chance stares into their direction—what a strange pair, those two. He glances down to the glass, studying it, then takes a cautious sip. It doesn't seem too strong—doesn’t taste that bad either.

He takes another sip. Then another.

Before long, everything starts to blur. His head feels light, and the drink in his hand empties faster than he realizes. He slides into an empty chair nearby, and he’s careful not to stumble or fall in the process. He lets out a quiet laugh.

“Guess the drink’s stronger than I thought…”

His vision wavers, and the floor looks like it's tilting slightly—around him, everything seems to be spinning. He leans against the armrest, his eyelids fluttering, threatening to close.

Maybe I should stop, he thinks, still buried in his haze. Just… for a bit.

His eyes drift over the crowd, trying to focus through the blur of flashing lights and swirling colors. Music pounds in his ears, and laughter echoes from every direction. Everyone else seems to either be dancing and shouting, or stumbling around the place with half-empty glasses in their hands.

Chance squeezes the armrest tighter, trying to shake off the dizzy feeling. Then, out of the corner of his eye—he spots something that makes him freeze.

A blur of blonde hair.

He blinks, thinking the drink is messing with his vision. But when he wipes his eyes and looks again, it's still there. It's not an illusion, nor his mind playing tricks on him. He… really saw it.

Was that really iTrapped?

For a moment, he thinks he's imagining it. It could be anyone else—why would it be iTrapped? Sure, Consigliere did say he would be here, could Chance really believe that? iTrapped, the no-nonsense, serious guy—was here? No way.

But the sight doesn't fade. It remains there, tucked in the corner.

And so, Chance gets up. Without thinking, he pushes himself from the chair, nearly toppling over. His legs feel unsteady, with the floor seemingly spinning under his feet, but still, he keeps moving forward. He has to make sure.

“Sorry, excuse me… coming through!"

Even though it takes a lot of effort, he manages to weave through the mass of people pushing against him. People bump into him, and someone almost sloshes their drink on him, but he doesn't stop—not until he reaches the corner.

And there, tucked away from the chaos, half-hidden behind a loose decoration… was iTrapped.

He was hunched over, his head lowered and facing the ground. He looks small—almost out of place—like he doesn't quite belong in this storm of a party.

“iTrapped?” Chance breathes out, bracing his hand against the wall to steady himself. The world around him still shakes faintly. “Are you okay?”

The blonde head lifts. iTrapped’s face comes into view—his eyes are glassy, and his cheeks are flushed pink. There's a faint redness around his eyes—and it looks like they’ve been crying.

“Chance? Is that you?”

Chance nods, crouching down beside them. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“What are you doing here…?”

Chance laughs softly, before moving closer to them. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“...I don’t know.” iTrapped mumbles, his voice trembling. He bites his lip nervously—to the point where his skin breaks. A small bead of red appears.

“Hey, don’t—” Chance instinctively reaches out, his thumb brushing against their lip to wipe the blood away. However, his touch lingers on his lips just a little too long, before he realizes what he’s doing, and how close he’s being. “Sorry, I—”

Yet before he can finish, iTrapped sways forward—and collapses straight into his chest.

“Whoa—!” Chance catches them, arms immediately wrapping around their body to keep them from falling to the ground. iTrapped’s head rests against his shoulder, warm and heavy. Their breathing seems uneven, the alcohol clearly taking its toll. It seems like he’s had some drinks tonight too.

“Sorry. I’m… really tired.”

“It’s okay. Do you wanna leave?”

They give him a brief nod. “Yeah,” they whisper, voice muffled against his shirt.

“Alright. Let's… do that, then.”

With that, Chance pulls them upright, looping one of their arms over his shoulder. They’re both a little unsteady—Chance isn’t exactly sober himself—but somehow, they manage to start moving toward the exit, one slow step at a time. They almost reach the exit, until a familiar voice calls out for him through the crowd.

“Chance!”

He turns his head. Contractee is behind him, waving. He’s accompanied by a few others—Chance’s old friends.

“Where are you going? The party’s just getting started!”

Chance tightens his hold on iTrapped, who stirs faintly against him. “He’s not feeling great,” Chance says quickly. “I gotta get him home before he collapses.”

Someone from the group—Soldier, Chance thinks—chuckles. “Sure, sure. You need to bring your boyfriend home safely, huh?”

“He’s not—” Chance starts to protest, but gives up halfway. It’s not worth it—he had to focus on getting iTrapped back first. That was his priority. He could settle things later. “Whatever. I’m tapping out for the night.”

“Wait, but—” Contractee begins, taking a step forward to stop them. But before he can say more, another figure steps in—Caporegime. Contractee stops mid-sentence, clearly caught off guard.

“Let him go," Caporegime says simply, his voice calm, but firm. He turns to Chance—who is quite literally struggling to hold them both together—and huffs. “Get home safe, yeah? Call me if you need anything.”

Chance nods, grateful. He thanks his lucky stars he was there—Caporegime always was the most rational one of the group. Consigliere was too, sometimes—but he always did seem to have a favouritism for Mafioso.

“Thanks… I will."

With that, he pushes open the door and steps out into the night—all while carefully guiding iTrapped, making sure he doesn't fall. They stumble out of the place, trying to make their way back. They pass by the main staircase. Chance adjusts his grip on iTrapped, holding him tighter. Step by step, they descend, though their footsteps are uneven. Chance’s head still feels a little light from the drinks, but he focuses on keeping them both upright—even as iTrapped’s body leans close to his side, his movements are completely unsteady. But they barely make it halfway down until iTrapped suddenly slips.

“Hey—!”

Chance panics, and barely manages to catch him. Unfortunately, iTrapped’s legs give out completely, and they both go tumbling to the floor. Chance hits the ground with a dull thud, and he winces as he sits up.

“iTrapped? Come on, you have to get up, man…”

Chance turns to iTrapped, who was just lying there. He’s curled slightly to his side, his breath coming out in shallow huffs. “Can’t… my leg hurts…”

Chance stares for a moment, panic rising in his chest. He leans closer, trying to help him up, but iTrapped just groans, swatting weakly at his hand.

“Please, you gotta get up. We can’t stay here.”

“Can’t…” iTrapped murmurs again, his eyes half-lidded, already beginning to close. “I’m tired…”

Chance lets out a sigh. Okay. He has to think of something—he can carry them. Or at least, try.

He crouches down, right in front of iTrapped. “Alright,” he mutters, gritting his teeth. His back is going to hate him for this. “Just… get on. I’ll carry you.”

That gets a faint reaction from them. They turn to face him, surprised. “You… will?”

Chance glances back over his shoulder, and offers them a faint grin. “Yeah. Now c’mon, before I change my mind."

Slowly, iTrapped sits up, still wobbling. Chance braces himself—good luck to his back tomorrow—and waits for them to climb onto his back. They cling tightly to him, wrapping their arms around them. Finally, with a slow grunt, he stands up, adjusting to iTrapped’s weight.

They’re lighter than he expects.

It's not that Chance was strong—but they seemed… light. He wasn't sure how to put it, but it didn't seem healthy. Still, he carries them carefully, making sure they don't fall. He holds them closer, and he can feel their warmth instantly—the way their chest is pressed up against his back, their breath brushing faintly against his neck. Then, iTrapped’s arms slide around his shoulders, and they bury their face into the crook of his neck.

He shivers at the sudden contact. Everything feels… too close.

“Where’s your dorm?” Chance asks quietly. “I’ll carry you back.”

There's a pause of silence. iTrapped’s voice comes out muffled, almost broken. “I… don’t have one.”

At this, Chance frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been kicked out.”

“What?"

iTrapped hesitates. He shifted slightly, almost ashamed. "I… couldn't afford the rent anymore. I’ve been sleeping in the library, or wherever I can find. I thought that if I tutored you long enough, I could make enough to find a place."

Chance stops on the step, before tightening his grip on them, utterly at a loss. “And you’ve just been living like that… this whole time…?”

iTrapped doesn’t answer—he simply rests their head against his shoulder, silent. Something in Chance’s chest tightens. He looks forward, down the hallway—but his vision is unfocused. All this time, he had been complaining about tests, and how much he had to study, hell even his parents—while iTrapped had been suffering, barely scraping by just to survive.

He thinks about his own dorm—about how his parents had simply paid for it without a single complaint. He never once worried about rent, food, or anything, really. He always had a place to sleep, warm meals, the latest gadget, and people who looked out for him. Meanwhile, iTrapped—someone who he had grown to look up to and admire, a person who always looked composed—had been quietly struggling to stay afloat. Maybe this was why he felt so light… He hadn't been eating enough. Was that why he often had plain sandwiches? Because he couldn't afford anything more? Was that why had seemed so hesitant about going to the cafe, until Chance offered to pay?

God, he felt like such a jerk right now.

Guilt creeps in the back of his mind, but he tries to shake those thoughts away. He’ll handle it later. He inhales sharply, trying to gain the courage to speak.

“…I see.”

“You… should’ve told me sooner. I would have helped—I never would have left you hanging, y’know?”

“I didn't want to bother you,” iTrapped mumbles weakly. “You were already stressed…”

Chance feels a lump form in his throat, and he swallows hard. Even now, when iTrapped was suffering—he was still worried about Chance. For once, he doesn't know what to say. Suddenly, all of his complaints and worries feel so small—thinking about iTrapper’s struggles, they feel almost trivial in comparison.

Chance adjusts his grip onto them, making sure they don't slip from his grasp. “Well, you can stay with me tonight.”

“But…”

"Stay, please. I’ll be worried if you don't."

With a sigh, iTrapped relents. “Fine..."

“Good.” With that, Chance keeps walking—this time, he’s more careful with his movements. When they finally reach his dorm, he unlocks the door and steps inside. He grabs the remote nearby, and turns on the air-conditioning. Then, he sets iTrapped gently onto the bed. Their blue vest is still on, creased from the earlier stumble. Chance helps them unbutton it, leaving only their blouse beneath.

He takes a step back, before glancing away from them, intending to get a drink. “You can rest here,” he whispers softly. “I’ll grab you a glass of water.”

But before he can move, iTrapped reaches for their sleeve, and tugs at it weakly. “Don't go. Stay with me… please.”

Chance pauses. The sudden request catches him off guard.

He can grab a glass of water later.

“Alright… If you insist.”

He settles down beside him, before lying onto the bed. Even as he shifts slightly, trying to make himself comfortable—iTrapped doesn't let his arm go. Instead, they loop an arm around his waist, and pull him closer until they’re nestled against his chest. They’re closer to him now—far, far closer than Chance ever dreamed—and the warmth feels almost too intimate, something far beyond friends.

“Don’t you think this is a little close, iTrapped…?” Chance murmurs, trying to free himself. His cheeks burn.

“It doesn’t matter,” iTrapped whispers faintly in response, his eyes already half-shut.

Chance blinks, speechless. For a moment, all he can hear is the faint hum of the air conditioner—mixed with the steady rhythm of iTrapped’s breathing, and the sound of his heart pounding in his eyes. Slowly, he takes a deep breath, trying to calm down.

Everything is fine. This is okay. He’s totally not blushing.

iTrapped stirs.

Suddenly, he sits up—though his hand never leaves Chance’s. His grip is loose, but he still refuses to let go—it’s almost like he’s afraid that if he did, everything might vanish. His eyes are glassy, tears caught in the corners, filled with exhaustion, and a bitterness from the alcohol.

Then, he speaks. And those words… they change everything.

“I… like you, Chance.”

Chance nearly chokes.

Wait… what? Did he hear that right?

He sits up a little too quickly. “You… what—?”

But iTrapped doesn't stop talking. His words spill out in a rush, almost like he’s been holding back the truth for far too long. “I just… I was too afraid to say anything. I didn't think you deserved someone like me—a disappointment.”

What…?

Chance sits there for a second, still stunned. He’s barely able to process their words, before he shakes his head firmly. “Hey, don't say that.” He moves closer to them, taking his hand in theirs before they can pull away. “You could never be a disappointment to me, iTrapped.

iTrapped finally looks up at him, his eyes shimmering with tears. “…Are you sure about that?”

Chance’s fingers tighten around his hand, his thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I’m sure,” he says quietly. Then, after a pause, his gaze drops to his lap. A faint flush of red creeps across his cheeks. “Plus…”

He hesitates—his chest feels tight, the words caught in his throat, each and every one filled with a fear of rejection. But still, he admits the truth—after all, they were brave enough to tell him too.

“I… like you too, iTrapped.”

“You… You do?”

His voice is trembling, almost like he's afraid to believe it. Chance simply nods once, his eyes soft. “Yeah, I do."

Neither of them moves. Something between them’s changed—it lingers in the air, inevitable.

iTrapped leans forward, his gaze lowering down to Chance’s lips. “Can I…?”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but Chance doesn’t need him to. He can see it in his eyes—the question that he wants to ask.

“Of course,” Chance breathes.

iTrapped moves instantly—pressing Chance gently back onto the mattress as he intertwines their fingers together. His hair falls forward, loose strands brushing softly against Chance’s cheek.

“I’ve wanted you for so long…” he murmurs, his words filled with longing that feels almost desperate. The words barely leave his lips before he closes the space between them.

His lips meet Chance’s.

At first, it's a soft gesture—hesitant, almost shy. But it stretches on, and iTrapped moves closer, his other hand cradling the side of Chance’s face. His eyes flutter shut. The warmth of the kiss spreads through him, dizzying, and his heart skips a beat. Even though his mind is hazy, his heart knows exactly what it wants.

Chance kisses them back.

Chance’s movements are messy, and a little clumsy—but it's real. iTrapped holds them tighter, and Chance’s breath hitches. Their hands move up, grasping at the fabric of his blouse like he’s afraid to let go.

When iTrapped finally pulls away, his face is flushed. His lips are a faint pink, and they glisten under the light. His eyes are dark, dazed, full of both feelings and thoughts left unspoken.

“You taste so sweet,” iTrapped whispers, before leaning in again. His breathing is uneven, and his voice trembles. “Fuck… I love you, Chance.”

Chance lays there, breathless. He doesn't even know what to say—his heart feels like it's about to burst. All he can do is stare—caught between disbelief, and the revelation that iTrapped actually cares—and loves—him.

“I… love you too, ‘Trap,” he breathes, brushing his thumb along iTrapped’s jaw. He pulls them closer, and looks at them—really looks at their face—and feels something fuzzy in his chest. At that moment, iTrapped’s fingers move, unsteady but determined, beginning to unbutton their shirt. His hands fumble slightly on the buttons.

“Do you want this?” he breathes, their eyes searching Chance’s.

But Chance’s mind is a mess. His head feels light, and everything around him is spinning—slipping between what felt real, and what must have been a dream.

“Well, I…” he starts, unsure. Was he really about to do this? Was this really happening?

But before he can finish—

iTrapped slumps forward.

His body goes limp, collapsing softly against Chance’s chest. He’s fallen asleep—he’s completely out cold.

Chance freezes. iTrapped must be exhausted.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. He pulls him closer, before stroking the back of iTrapped’s head gently. A stray strand of hair falls across iTrapped’s face, and Chance brushes it aside. The sight makes something ache deep within him—tenderness, maybe, or the quiet, bittersweet sense that this was probably for the best.

Everything felt almost like a dream—and Chance lies there, heart still racing, wondering if the moment they shared was real—or just another dream, blurred by his own longing.

Eventually, iTrapped relaxes fully, letting himself sink into sleep. Chance watches him for a moment, then pulls the blanket over them both.

“Goodnight, iTrapped… Sleep well.”

But when Chance wakes, the bed beside him is empty.

Huh? Where did he go?

“iTrapped?” Chance calls softly, sitting up, still groggy. His eyes drift across the room as he tries to focus.

Did he leave? Was last night a mistake? What if he—

“Yes?"

iTrapped reappears. He’s standing there, slightly disheveled, holding a plate with a sandwich in his hands. Chance realises it isn’t the plain sandwich he usually makes—this one has meat, cheese, and vegetables packed inside.

“I… couldn’t get anything else. Cafe’s closed for today,” iTrapped mumbles, his eyes looking downward. “Sorry.”

Aww. Why was he still apologising? He really didn't have to.

“It’s fine," Chance smiles softly, touched. “Thanks, I… really appreciate it.”

“Still, I know it isn't much…”

Chance’s eyes simply glance briefly toward iTrapped, a teasing glint in them. “Well, I’m just glad it isn't a plain sandwich."

At that, iTrapped scoffs—though it's more of a playful gesture, if anything. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a plain sandwich.”

“Sure…”

iTrapped takes a few steps forward, and sets the plate on the bedside table, before settling beside him on the bed. He rubs his temples, wincing. “Ugh, my head is killing me."

“Well, you did get drunk…”

“I did.”

“Well, do you remember anything about last night?”

“Y-Yeah…” iTrapped stammers, turning away. His cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. It seems like he still remembers.

Chance opens his mouth to speak, but before he can do so, his phone buzzes loudly. He picks it up, checking the notification. He immediately moves forward, his eyes widening in surprise.

“It’s… the test result.”

“It is?” iTrapped asks, leaning closer. He rests his cheek against Chance’s shoulder, waiting for him to check the results.

Chance’s hands tremble as he fumbles with the phone. He’s so nervous, it almost slips from his grasp. “Oh my god… what if I fail?”

“You won't," iTrapped reassures him, placing a hand on their shoulder. “I’m sure of it.”

“Okay…” Chance says, voice sounding uncertain. He takes a deep breath, and his finger hovers across the screen.

“3… 2… 1…”

He clicks on it. Instinctively, he closes his eyes tightly, unable to look. “I… I can't! You check it for me!"

iTrapped chuckles. He leans forward, taking the phone gently, checking the result himself.

He doesn't say anything.

“Uh… Can I open my eyes now?”

"Yeah.”

Chance opens his eyes. He looks at the screen… and there it is. His result.

And he passed—fiifty percent.

“Let’s go!!!” he shouts, before pulling iTrapped into a tight hug. iTrapped stiffens for a moment, surprised, but then melts into it, wrapping his arms around Chance.

“Oh my god, thank you so much! I don’t know what I would have done without you!” Chance exclaims, hugging them tighter. He’s grateful—he never would have imagined being able to pass—especially since he had known almost nothing prior to meeting iTrapped.

“It’s no big deal…” iTrapped mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes darting away from Chance.

“No big deal? Buddy, you just saved my life! I don’t even know how I can repay you!”

iTrapped shakes his head. “No, you don’t have to…” He pauses, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Well… maybe there is one thing.”

“What is it?”

iTrapped gives him a cheeky look, and taps a finger to his own lips—almost like he’s asking for a kiss. However, when Chance doesn't respond—he’s too stunned to do so—he turns away, attempting to hide his embarrassment. “I was joking! It was just a joke, okay?"

His words tumble over each other, and he starts to ramble on. “God, I must still be drunk… That alcohol last night, it must have been way too strong, right? Haha…”

Chance doesn't let him finish.

Without warning, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to iTrapped’s cheek. iTrapped freezes, his hands flying to cover his face as a blush blooms across his cheeks. “You… you kissed me—” he stammers out.

“Mhm,” Chance murmurs, a soft, teasing smile on his lips. “And I can do it again… if you want me to.”

iTrapped peeks through his fingers, his heart hammering. His eyes meet Chance’s, and for a moment, everything else seems to fade away—it’s just the two of them, together. “That… would be nice,” he admits, his voice low—it’s a quiet confession.

iTrapped wants him. And Chance…

He wants them too.

Chance pulls him by the waist, drawing him closer. Their lips crash together, and this time, Chance takes the lead—he tilts his head slowly, letting iTrapped press against his chest. They hold onto him tightly, causing them to drag their hands along his back, lightly digging into his skin for support. And without hesitation, iTrapped lets him—his body responds before his mind can catch up, and he’s already letting his fingers get tangled in the fabric of Chance’s shirt.

“Chance…”

Chance’s thumbs slide over iTrapped’s hips, then move further up—until they reach his chest. The sudden contact makes iTrapped shiver, and it elicits a soft groan that escapes his lips. They arch towards him, letting his lips be captured in a desperate kiss.

“Oh? You liked that? Well, it's my turn."

Chance shifts, rolling them slightly so he ends up being pinned lightly against the mattress. Their heart is pounding, blood racing in his ears. iTrapped’s hands roam around now, and they wrap along Chance’s shoulders, tracing the back of his neck. His fingers curl around loose strands of Chance’s hair, and he absentmindedly toys with them. Chance presses his lips against iTrapped once more, firmer this time—and their breath comes faster, shallow gasps swallowed by the kiss.

“That… That really feels nice.”

Eventually, Chance pulls away. They collapse onto the bed, limbs tangling with one another as they sink deeper onto the mattress. iTrapped’s hair falls over his face, damp with sweat. Chance glances at them, before offering them a faint, yet pleased smile. “Well, I’m glad to hear that."

"Chance,” iTrapped pouts, lamenting the sudden loss of warmth. “Why did you do that?”

Chance simply lets out a soft chuckle. “Hey, I’m tired too, y’know? After all, I had to carry you all the way back.”

iTrapped scoffs, turning away in exaggerated annoyance—but his eyes flicker towards Chance, betraying the faintest hint of longing beneath the act.

“Come here.”

Chance props an arm behind him, his other hand moving in slow, comforting circles over iTrapped’s back—each touch gentle, almost apologetic. iTrapped shifts closer, drawn in by the warmth, and Chance pulls them even nearer to him. Then, he pauses, remembering something.

“I still… need to give you your gift,” he murmurs, a shy grin tugging at his lips.

iTrapped glances at him, a confused expression on his face. “What do you mean? This is perfect already.”

“No, not that…” Chance fumbles slightly, moving to reach the bedside drawer beside him. His hand pulls out the blue tie he had bought yesterday. It’s slightly crumpled in his grip, and he quickly smoothens it out, before offering it to iTrapped.

iTrapped takes it carefully, feeling the soft fabric between his fingers. He brings it close to his chest, pressing it against him. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, replacing the exhausted look from earlier.

“Thank you. It’s… perfect.”

Chance watches him, his chest practically bursting with warmth at the sight of iTrapper’s happy expression. “No, I should be the one thanking you, iTrapped. I… couldn't have done it without you.”

“And, well… there’s something else. Wanna move in with me? I could use a roommate.”

iTrapped narrows his eyes, feigning skepticism, though the corner of his mouth twitches with amusement. “It just seems like you want free tutoring. And kisses.”

Chance laughs, nudging him lightly. “Hey, what’s wrong with that?”

iTrapped rolls his eyes, lips twitching into a faint grin. Still, Chance continues to speak. “I’m serious though… about being roommates. And, of course, being together, unless—”

But he never finishes.

Instead, iTrapped leans forward and presses a soft, fleeting kiss to Chance’s cheek—the warmth of his lips lingering just long enough to make Chance’s heart flutter in his chest.

Then, without another word, iTrapped reaches for Chance’s hand. Their fingers brush, then intertwine, fitting together perfectly. He gives them a gentle squeeze—one full of genuine warmth and affection—a gesture that says more than words ever could.

“I’d like that.”