Jock Next Bed (BL) Chapter 227: Absolute betrayal!

"I’m just glad you’re safe," Sky’s mother said, her voice gentle, full of hesitant relief. "But... your father is worried about you. He might’ve said so harsh things, but I know he regrets them. He didn’t sleep a wink last night..."

Sky stood silently in the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear as steam rose from the mug he was holding. Her voice filled the quiet around him, soft and familiar, threading through his nerves like a balm. He hadn’t ant to call her—he’d dialed her number almost by accident, a half-conscious decision born out of everything weighing on him. But hearing her voice had brought sothing inside him unclench.

"He’ll be alright," she continued. "And... I hope you have fun with the others when they arrive."

"Yeah," Sky said quietly.

There was a pause. Then her voice lowered, cautious. "How is he?"

Sky’s eyes drifted to the hallway. His room. The one he and Chris had... stayed in. Chris was still asleep, completely out cold. Sky had returned from—well, let’s call it a necessary clean-up mission—and found Chris curled up on the bed like he’d fought a war and won it. He hadn’t even stirred when Sky moved around. It was already close to 8 a.m., and the guy hadn’t budged an inch.

Now, Sky was in the kitchen debating whether to make Chris a cup of coffee too. Not that it mattered—so butler-looking guy had popped out of nowhere earlier, asking if "Master Christopher" needed anything. Sky had waved him off fast enough to make his head spin.

"Sky?" his mom said again, prompting him.

"He’s fine," he replied. "Sleeping."

"Okay," she said, her voice soft with sothing like approval. "Tell him I said hi. And if he ever visits again, I’ll make his favorite."

Sky almost smiled. Before he could answer, his gaze went to the front door like he knew sothing was coming.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Click.

"I have to go," he said quietly.

There was a pause on the line. "Alright. I love you."

"...You too." And the line clicked off.

He lowered the phone slowly and stepped out just as the door swung open.

A stranger stepped in first—handso, unfamiliar, effortlessly cool in black sweats and a tank top that hinted at lean strength. His hair was short, the shade of bright bleached blond that scread definitely not natural, and his expression was unreadable. Sky blinked at him, silently cataloguing everything from the smooth confidence in his walk to the pierced brow and artfully bored expression.

He was the kind of guy who probably stretched for fun and could do a split without warming up.

Then ca the voice.

"Why are you just standing there? Go in!"

Sky’s brain caught up a half-second later.

Wilson.

The stranger stepped aside, and there he was—Wilson, flailing dramatically with two overstuffed bags and an expression like soone who’d just battled airport security and lost.

Sky didn’t even have ti to speak before the stranger—who had to be Jack—turned to look at him again. This ti, his gaze lingered.

"You’re prettier than I imagined," Jack said softly.

Sky blinked. What?

Wilson let out a loud gasp that could’ve shattered glass. "Excuse ? Who’s prettier, or him?"

Jack didn’t even flinch. "Chris’s boyfriend."

Sky coughed violently, nearly dropping his mug. "We’re... not dating."

He wasn’t sure why it had slipped out, but it did before he could stop himself.

They had agreed to be exclusive. They had kissed a million tis and last night...

The room dropped into a silence so thick you could carve it with a butter knife.

Wilson raised an eyebrow so high it might’ve left his body. "Oh, please."

Jack shrugged like the conversation bored him. "Yet."

Sky glanced down at his coffee like it had betrayed him even though the poor thing did nothing to him.

Before he could defend his very not-dating status further, the door was further pushed open.

Another figure stepped inside with a suitcase.

Rachel.

She looked... different. Thinner. Paler. Her usually sharp eyes dulled by sothing heavy. Her hair was tied back carelessly, and her skin looked like she hadn’t seen the sun in weeks.

"Hey," he greeted, voice awkward, nearly swallowed by the steam of his mug.

"Hi," she replied quickly, her voice too bright to be real.

No one said anything for a beat. Then Wilson broke it like a wrecking ball.

"Okay, I know you guys probably wanna do the whole awkward, unresolved, tragic-tension-stare thing, but I have to drop these bags, then get back out to pick the others from the airport, and also—where the hell is Chris?"

Sky scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking toward the hallway. "Sleeping."

"Sleeping?" Wilson raised a brow. "By this ti?"

Sky opened his mouth, then decided honesty was fatal. "Yeah."

Jack tilted his head, amused. "Guess he had a long night."

Sky coughed. "He... was tired."

Rachel raised her eyebrows slightly but said nothing.

Later...

Wilson would not let it go.

Of course he didn’t. The mont he realized Sky had claid the "fancy room"—the one Wilson considered his whenever he stayed over—he launched into full dramatic ltdown.

Sky had casually ntioned it, thinking it was just a simple room reassignnt. "That’s my room now. Chris is still sleeping."

Wilson froze mid-step like he’d been physically struck. "Your room? As in—my room?—yours?"

"Chris gave it to last night." Sky said in a flat tone.

Wilson blinked, his voice rising several scandalous octaves. "That animal. That absolute betrayer. I always stay there when I co here!"

What the hell? Didn’t Chris tell him last night that he usually ca here alone or with family?

Why the hell did he bring Wilson here and even let him lay claim over his room?

Wilson glared at the room like it had personally wronged him. "He’s dead to . But I’ll settle the score later—because I am a responsible friend, and unlike so people, I help my best friend’s boyfriend’s family get here safely." He rolled his eyes so hard Sky thought he heard a crack.

"And whenever he wakes up, tell him I do not want to see his la ass in his bedroom. I’m gonna be using that. So he better move in with you!"

As Wilson stomped off with the suitcases, muttering about justice and room-stealing boyfriends, Sky turned to look at Jack.

Jack stood by the hallway, hands in his pockets, gaze lazy and amused. "He’s dramatic," Jack said simply, then turned and walked away like this was all just part of his daily programming.

Sky watched him go, blinking.

A few monts later, footsteps padded lightly.

It was Rachel who had dropped her stuff and was back.

Her expression was unreadable, her gaze flicking briefly to the hallway before settling on Sky. "Can we talk?"