The Chase Ch. 05

"This is really delicious Mrs. Carmichael." Griffin says, after wiping his face- the first time I'd ever see him do that.

My mom smiles, "Thank you Griffin. Chase has always loved my pot roast and so I make it every time he comes up- which is far less often than I'd like." She gives me a knowing look as I roll my eyes. It's one of those jabs that only a mother can do to their son and so I let her have it.

"Chase has just been busy that's all." Griffin interjects, out of nowhere. "We both work at the Coffee Shop on weekends when we're not studying. Our boss has been really impressed with him, so Chase is the manager when he's not around."

I sit awkwardly in my seat for minute. What Griffin's saying isn't exactly false- although it's clear to all of us why I'm not home as much as they'd like me to be.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you're working hard, son." My dad says, which throws me for a loop. He doesn't say any more than that, he simply lets that linger as he serves himself more mashed potatoes. The thing about my family is that we don't fight with loud arguments or a shotgun loaded with harmful words; we fight in silence. We let our feelings rot away inside without unsealing our lips. That's how it was after I came out. My father never told me that he was disappointed or that he wished that I wasn't- but he didn't say otherwise either. Silence was almost more painful than words. And since we walked through the door, everything out of his mouth has been in an effort to fix that.

We continue to chat which is mostly my parents trying to get to know Griffin better. I've heard all these stories before- about his single mom and what it was like to move from Austin to Seattle halfway through high school. Griffin manages to not break a sweat throughout what feels like an interrogation. My parents glaze over my own round of questions, partly because they tried that last summer and all I had were a bunch of "I don't know's" and "we'll see's".

Eventually they seem to run out of life advice and nagging parent clichés and we start to talk about anything and everything. My mom brings out four cups of coffee and starts telling stories of what I was like as a kid- awkwardness, terrible fashion choices and all. Griffin's so enthralled by it that I give him a few nudges every now and then to remind him that this isn't some poor unfortunate nerdy kid from a coming of age story, but me. My mom is an endless stream of embarrassing stories; a faucet I really don't mind being left on. If this were Caleb with me or any guy that I was romantically interested in, then I'd be mortified. But this is Griffin, arguably the one guy I don't mind looking like a dork in front of. We couldn't care less about looking coo.

I left out a handful of yawns, only to realize that this after-dinner chat has gone over two hours. Outside it's pitch black, much like the thin layer of coffee at the bottom of my cup that I don't feel like finishing.

My mom's just put away the last of the dishes when she calls out, "Jesus is that really the time?"

Griff looks up at the large clock hanging above my dad's military medals, replying, "Wow it doesn't even feel like we've been at it this long."

"Yeah and we still gotta drive back."

My dad shakes his head, "Nonsense. I wouldn't want you driving that whole way at this time. You two just stay here the night and you can head back in the morning."

I'm not even able to argue before my mom walks over, adding, "Yeah honey, it'll be past midnight by the time you get back to campus. Your room is just how you left it and we can pull out the old futon if you want."

I realize at this point that there's no sense in trying to convince them otherwise. I look over at Griffin who's kept quiet throughout the whole thing. "Are you cool with staying over?"

At first, I see a surprised look on his face like a deer in the headlights. But then he smiles and gives me a nod, "Yeah, that's not a problem."

***

GRIFFIN

It's here that I know I messed up. Chase's parents are worried that we'd be driving too late so they insist that we stay here the night. He looks at me and asks if I'm cool with it and by then the decision is already made. It's not that I don't want to be here or that I'm so bothered that we're getting back a day later than we were supposed to. It's just all of this feels too much like we're this couple- the couple that deep down, I want us to be.

Chase whisks me off upstairs to his bedroom which gives me a good look into who he was before I met him. The walls are nearly covered with so many TV and movie posters, it's like a fanboy's wet dream. I recognize the basic ones- Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Arrowverse, Teen Titans- but there's still a dozen or so that are too obscure. He sets his backpack down on the floor by his desk.

"Hey I'm real sorry about this. You were kinda put on the spot and it's just- I know there was no use in trying to unconvinced them..." He starts rambling in his characteristic Chase way and I know I gotta shut him up before he loses it. I reach for a pillow by his head and throw it to him, hitting in square in the chest.

"Chill dude, really, I'm cool with staying here tonight."

He picks it up and throws it back to me, "Thanks for being a trooper Griff."

I shrug my shoulders, "You're welcome.

Chase disappears into his closet for a few minutes as I'm left staring at everything in his room. I'd like to think that I know him inside and out, but all these little trinkets and mementos from his life before college are subtle nuances to the boy I care about. He comes back, tossing some clothes my way.

"Something wrong with how I'm dressed?" I ask, looking at the shirt and pair of gym shorts that he picked out for me.

"I had to reach into the depths of my closet to find something that'll actually fit you." He puts his hands up, "Sure beats sleeping in a long sleeve and jeans." He points out the clothes that he got for himself as we stand at opposite sides of the room.

Chase is in his own little world as he strips off his shirt followed by his shorts. I turn myself to the side so I'm not tempted to look at him. There's something so innocent in this moment that I don't want to ruin because I couldn't keep my eyes to myself. He's just my friend- I remind myself as I take off my own clothes and slip into his. When he's done, Chase starts rearranging the bed, tossing a few pillows aside so he can pull the comforter out. I'm left there awkwardly standing on the other side, wondering if he intends for the both of us to share. He makes no indication otherwise so I slip in beside him and beat myself up about how weird I'm making this. Under normal circumstances, Chase and I have shared beds before- after drunken escapades or the nights either of us are too lazy to go back to our rooms. But again, like everything that's happening this trip, it's all different.

Both of us are laying on our backs, staring straight up at the ceiling as the night sky fills the room in a dark shade of blue. He's next to me and I know he's awake, partially because he knows that I am too.

"Griff?" He asks, in a soft tone barely escapes the confines of this bed.

"Yeah, Chase?"

"I just- I can't thank you enough for coming. Deep down I knew that I would have been okay, but it was just so comforting to have you here with me."

I continue staring up at the ceiling, "You said you needed me and so I came. It's as simple as that."

He lets out a soft chuckle, "I always knew I could count on you."

I let the silence take over for a few minutes but the two of us still haven't moved an inch. I look over to see if Chase has fallen asleep, but I can still make out the whites in his eyes that tell me he hasn't.

"Do you think it's gotten better?" I ask him, hoping I'm not overstepping.

"That's partially why I can't sleep." He turns his body to me and I follow his lead. "He hasn't said much tonight, but what he did say was enough."

I try to find his eyes again, but he keeps them hidden from me. "I didn't grow up with a dad. He left when I was so young that if he stood in a line-up, I wouldn't be able to point him out." Chase hears this and finally looks at me. "I spent so many years wishing I had his attention. That, wherever he was, he'd think of me and feel some ounce of regret for leaving me behind."

"We can't control how other people feel."

Chase is still quiet when I've finished that last part, but he hasn't turned or moved at all. He's still staring back at me and even in this darkness, I can make out the colors in his eyes.

"I've been thinking that for years, but somehow now, coming from you- it has meaning."

I give him a soft smile, hoping he can make it out within the shadows. After a few more minutes of silence, I feel him move around in bed, trying to get comfortable. He looks at me one last time before turning away.

"Goodnight Griff."

"Goodnight Chase." I reply before turning around myself. Within minutes, he's behind me, softly breathing as he falls asleep. I want nothing more than to turn back around and wrap my arms around him. I want to hold him- tell him that I can help make things better. I want to tell him everything in this moment.

But I don't.

I don't even give myself the satisfaction of turning to watch him sleep for a few seconds. I stay where I am, facing a corner of a room I've never been in before and it's utter torture- to be so close yet not able to do a thing.

I can't control how he feels.

***

I wake up the next morning and spend a few minutes to lay back and take it all in. I'm in his room- with everything he cherishes surrounding the walls that encapsulate us. And he's here, softly snoring right beside me. If it were Adam or anyone else, I'd shake them to try and get them to wake up. But not Chase. I keep my motions light so not to wake him. He's so goddamn peaceful right now and I start to think that maybe, in another life, this is what I could wake up to every morning.

The last thing I want is for Chase to wake up and see me staring at him, so I slip out of bed and head towards his bathroom. I pull out a brand-new toothbrush that he left out for me last night and go about my morning routine as best I can. Since none of this was planned, I'm left using his toothpaste, his pomade and his deodorant. For a second I can smell him on me like a diluted cologne labeled "Chase Carmichael" and I tell myself not to make it any weirder than it already is. I leave the bathroom to see he's awake and scrolling away at his phone.

Chase leans against the headboard with his crop of blonde hair curling at the edges as his pomade from yesterday seems to have given up entirely. He sets his phone down and looks at me as I reenter the room.

"Did you sleep okay?" He asks as I start to retrieve my clothes.

"Yeah, your bed's super comfy."

He nods and I catch him almost trying to say something. He has that look and it tells me that he wants to bring up what we talked about last night, but he also doesn't want to at all. I let it go, not asking in case it's the latter.

Chase grabs his backpack after we both get changed and we head downstairs where his parents are both waiting for us in the kitchen. Mr. Carmichael is doing the cliché "dad routine" of reading through the Sunday paper while sipping on a cup of coffee. Chase's mom, however, is full steam ahead- aimlessly flipping pancakes, bacon and over- easy eggs on a grill pan that's wider than our twin beds at campus.

"Mornin' boys" Chase's dad says- managing to nod to us without taking his eyes off the paper.

"Morning everyone" we say, almost in unison as we sit down next to him. Chase lent me some clothes to wear on the way back and it's not until now that I notice he's dressed up in the same kind of outfit- apart from my shoes. His mom turns off the stove and makes her way, platter in hand, towards the dining table. She sets it down and gives Chase a big kiss on the cheek, and me, a firm grasp on my shoulder. It's her way of saying, "I know we just met yesterday, but in time, I'll be kissing him the way I kiss you." It's something my own mom would do.

Mrs. Carmichael asks about how we slept and what we're up to the rest of the day as strips of bacon fly off the plates and into our mouths. It's far less formal than it was yesterday and I can see on Chase's face that he's visibly less on-edge. He's less picky with his words, and for a while, he falls back into the same guy that I see everyday at school and less like an actor trying to win the role of "perfect son."

Chase's dad has seemed to soften a bit- throwing in jokes that leave us hysterical. His phone starts to ring and he tells us it's one of his Marine buddies trying to plan a family picnic out by the lake. He takes it out by the porch, leaving us and the remaining scraps of food.

"So how long have you guys been seeing each other?" Chase's mom asks as I nearly choke on my glass of water.

"Mom!" Chase replies, turning a bright shade of red before turning to make sure his father isn't within earshot.

"Don't worry son, he can't hear us. You don't have to pretend in front of me." She's got this mischievous look on her face that my mom wears all the time. I swear, they'd get along like two peas in a pod.

Chase shakes his head, "There's nothing to pretend, Griffin's my best friend and that's it."

She seems unconvinced, so I regain my composure, adding, "Really Mrs. Carmichael, there's nothing going on between us." I swallow down that heavy lump of truth, knowing that if it were up to me, we wouldn't just be friends.

She looks at both of us to see that we're telling the truth and seems to accept it- for now. "Well, in that case, thanks for being so good to my son." She gathers our plates and gives me a light hug, "You're welcome here anytime, Griffin."

I nod to her in thanks as she heads off into the kitchen. Chase is still shaking his head as he starts to laugh. He looks at me with me with a smile and I can't help but join in.

"She really thought we were dating." He says, with a snicker.

"That's typically what happens when you bring a hot guy home to meet your parents." I say, hitting him in the side.

"You're as hot as you are conceited." He says, rolling his eyes. "But you do look good in my clothes."

We lounge around for a few more minutes before he gets up and tells me we should make the drive back. He calls for his dad who's just finished up his call and he comes back in to say goodbye. I extend my hand which is nearly crushed off by Mr. Carmichael's firm grip and thank him for having me over. Knowing what's next, I take his backpack in my shoulder and walk off into the kitchen to say goodbye to his mom, giving the two of them privacy. Chase's dad pulls him into a hug and there's this collective sigh from both of them- like all that pent-up steam is finally being released. I hear him tell Chase to take care of himself and my friend simply nods, walking away before he would inevitably break down.

Chase's goodbye with his mom is far less emotional. She takes a play out of my mom's book and tells him to call often before kissing him on the cheek. I start to walk away but see her pull him by the arm, out of the corner of my eye. The only thing I manage to hear is a simple, "He's trying" that manages to reach my ears but doesn't cross over into the living room.

Chase cups his mom's hand, replying, "I know he is."

He catches up with me by the front door and we make our way to the car and back to our regular lives. I say goodbye to that house and this town, actually looking forward to going back to campus. It's easier to pretend over there- there's more places for me and my emotions to hide.

***

The drive back is a lot calmer that it was yesterday. Chase has his phone plugged in and he's playing one of his Spotify playlists called "Ball Point Pensive" which is basically just a collection of contemplative songs that he plays when he feels like digging deep. It's got everything from Oasis to Lorde to Fleetwood Mac, and every sad song in between. I don't mind though. I sit back and think about my own shit while Chase sits just a hand rest away from me, dealing with his own. I like this- how we're not the type of friends who need to talk to each other constantly. We can sit like this or in silence- neither of us looking to fill space that doesn't need to be filled.

We get back into town and, after a quick stop to drop off the car, Chase and I are getting off the bus back to campus a little past noon. He's fully shed that timid nature that was slowly wearing off on the way back- it's like once his Vans hit the pavement, he was back to his old self. I'm made more aware of this when we turn a corner and see Caleb walking towards us. That beautiful face- the one I told myself not to stare at, lights up once he sees him.

Caleb gets closer and pulls Chase into a kiss. I cringe, thinking about the last time I saw that, and what it made me do. Suddenly, I'm left like a fucking statue- not knowing if I should stay here lingering or walk over to try and join them. Caleb seems to decide for me- wrapping his arms around my friend like the curved loop of a padlock. He doesn't even bother to turn to my direction or acknowledge my existence. Does he know that I just spent the past twenty-four hours with Chase? That I went to his hometown and met his parents? That I slept in his bed? That I'm wearing his clothes?

No, he doesn't. And Chase- the only one of us who could tell him that- doesn't. Because like all things lately, it's my own emotions that are fucking everything up.

I stand there for a few minutes, holding onto Chase's backpack before he leaves Caleb's grasp and walks back to me.

"Hey, I was gonna go get lunch with Caleb if that's cool." He asks, as if I have enough authority to tell him no.

I'm quick to respond, "Yeah dude. I'll just go grab something and finish up some homework the rest of the day." I'm trying to sound as casual as possible, but luckily he's so fixed on the boy standing a couple feet away from us that he doesn't seem to notice.

"Alright cool. Thanks again Griff." He says with a kind smile. He may not tell Caleb what we did yesterday, but he sure as hell knows.