Roommates With Benefits [BL]

When Doctor Morgan finally showed up to say I could see my dad, I felt like I’d aged about forty-seven years in that morning.

I’d spent hours stuck in a hospital chair that seemed designed for maximum discomfort...hard plastic with zero support or dignity, just staring at a blank wall while nurses and doctors bustled around.

Every few minutes, someone would pass by with a clipboard, slip through some double doors, or murmur to a colleague, and each time my stomach would knot up, convinced they were discussing my father’s condition.

Damien had stayed right there with me through it all.

He didn’t fill the silence with useless reassurances, which I found more comforting than I could say.

He understood not to say everything would be fine when neither of us really knew.

Instead, he was just present, occasionally offering me water, reminding me to eat something when I could, and holding my hand whenever he noticed my fingers were trembling.

At some point, I stopped pretending I was okay.

So, when Doctor Morgan finally came into view at the end of the hall and called out,

”Oliver?” I was on my feet before he had a chance to say anything more.

”Can I see him now?”

The doctor nodded slightly. ”He’s awake.”

For a fraction of a second, I think my heart might have stopped. ”Awake?”

”Yes. He’s still pretty weak, but he’s conscious and responsive.”

A wave of relief washed over me, so sudden that my knees nearly buckled.

Damien’s hand settled comfortably on my lower back, steadying me without me even realizing how much I needed it.

”Thank you,” I breathed out.

Doctor Morgan gave us a sympathetic look and gestured down the hallway. ”You can see him now, but try not to wear him out. He needs some rest.”

I nodded quickly.

Of course. Rest, quiet, calm. All things I was really great at being, just like I was expert at keeping cool during minor inconveniences.

As Damien and I walked behind the doctor, my anxiety kicked back in, twisting into all sorts of scenarios.

What if he looked worse than I remembered? What if he’s not really okay? What if—

I cut myself off. No, I couldn’t keep doing this. I had already spent too much time imagining every possible disaster, and none of that helped at all.

I took a deep breath and kept walking, matching my pace to Damien’s without even thinking about it.

When Doctor Morgan stopped in front of a room, my body went rigid.

He opened the door and I stepped inside.

And there he was.

My dad lay in the hospital bed, slightly propped up, surrounded by more machines than I’d ever seen on him before.

IV lines were running into his arm, monitors beside him were tracking numbers I couldn’t quite grasp, and a tangle of wires disappeared beneath the thin hospital blanket.

He looked smaller, that hit me first.

Dad had never been a big guy, but he’d always had a presence that filled the room.

Maybe it was his voice, maybe how he carried himself, or just the fact that he’d always been my dad, making him seem invincible, like nothing could take him down.

Now, he looked frail under the covers...paler and more exhausted.

There were faint bruises where he’d been poked with needles, and even from the doorway, I could see the effort it took for him to turn his head toward the sound of the door.

My chest tightened, for a moment, I couldn’t move...then his eyes opened wider.

And he smiled.

”Oh would you look who it is,” he said, his voice raspy, rougher than I remembered, the scratchiness sending my stomach spiraling again. ”Ollie, how long did it take to get here when the doctors called, hm?”

Tears welled in my eyes. I chuckled weakly, typical of him to tease me even after almost dying. ”Yeah, sorry. Got held up.”

His eyebrows raised, slow, but unmistakably him. ”By what?”

”International travel.”

He stared at me and I stared back. Then he glanced at Damien, standing a respectful distance away.

”Did he kidnap you?”

Damien’s mouth twitched. ”Not exactly.”

”You kidnapped my son, I knew it.”

”Dad.”

”What?” He looked completely innocent, or as innocent as a guy hooked up to four different machines could be. ”The kid has billionaire money. That’s just what rich people do they see someone they like.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, It wasn’t much, but it was real.

Dad smiled when he heard it, his expression softening just a bit. Then his face turned a little more serious.

”Come here, kid.”

That was all I needed.

I crossed the room and carefully leaned over the bed, wrapping my arms around him as gently as possible, terrified of disturbing any of the wires or tubes.

He felt so fragile, like I could break him if I squeezed too tightly.

His hand came up slow, resting against the back of my head, the same gesture he’d used since I was a little kid.

”Hey,” he whispered.

I swallowed hard.

”Hey.”

Neither of us spoke for a few seconds, i just stood there, holding him, trying to convince myself this was real.

When I finally pulled back, Dad studied my face with that same scrutinizing gaze he’d given me when I was a teenager sneaking in late.

”You look terrible.”

I blinked. ”Wow, thanks a lot dad.”

”What?”

”I haven’t even been here five minutes, and you’re already insulting me.”

”I’m your father. It’s my job.”

”Couldn’t you wait until I was emotionally stable?”

”Then I’d have to wait forever.”

I stared at him in a deadpanned, he smiled. There he was.

My dad, still annoying...still himself.

That meant more than I wanted to admit, more than any reassurance from a doctor could have.

Then his focus shifted over my shoulder.

I didn’t even need to turn around to know who he was looking at.

Damien stood a few feet away, his expression composed but softer than usual, the kind of softness he rarely showed to anyone.

Dad smiled again. ”And you.”

Damien stepped closer.

”Hello, Frank.”

”Come here.”

Damien looked a little surprised, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face that I’d never seen directed at my dad before.

Dad held out his hand.

After a brief hesitation, Damien walked over and took it.

Frank squeezed his fingers gently. ”I’m glad you’re here, son.”

Damien’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly, his jaw relaxing just a bit. ”Of course.”

”Good.”

Dad glanced between us, something knowing shining in his tired eyes.

Then he smiled. ”You both look exhausted.”

He chuckled softly but then winced, the sound catching slightly in his throat.

My body went tense. ”Dad?”

”I’m fine.”

”You just—”

”I’m fine, Oliver.”

His voice was gentle, the kind of gentleness he used to keep me from spiraling out of control.

I nodded even though I wasn’t convinced, my eyes drifting to the monitor beside his bed, watching it like it might divulge something he wasn’t telling me.

Damien moved a chair closer to the bed and sat down, briefly touching my shoulder as he did...a small anchor before he settled in.

Dad noticed, of course.