Page 130 of Under Construction

The cold floor bites into Dennis’s back as Chris pushes into him—they couldn't wait for the bed, couldn't even make it to the couch.

Chris fucks him harder than usual, rougher, teeth marring every inch of skin he can reach.

Dennis’s knees scrape against peeling hardwood when Chris flips him around, trembling as he’s pounded into deeper. Chris screws into him like he wants to connect them permanently.

Dennis’s ass will be sore for days, bruises blooming where Chris's fingers dig into his hips and thighs, but Dennis takes it all. Takes everything Chris gives him. Lets Chris mark him, claim him, pour everything he can't explain into Dennis’s willing body—whatever it is he can't say with words. Until they’re panting and gasping, chests heaving in sync.

Their foreheads press together while Dennis’s fingers card through Chris’s sweaty hair, failing to soothe whatever storm rages beneath.

Then Chris's phone buzzes.

This time when he gets up, Dennis follows.

He finds Chris on the balcony, phone pressed to his ear. "I know what I'm doing... Just give me more time."

"Who was that?"

Chris spins around, nearly dropping his phone. "Work stuff." His smile looks wrong. "Come shower?"

Dennis knows it's not work stuff.

But despite the lies, the excuses, the strange tension radiating off Chris in waves, Dennis lets those familiar hands pull him close. Lets Chris's touch silence the questions burning his tongue.

Later, pretending to sleep, Dennis watches Chris pace, phone gripped like an anchor.

The cracks keep spreading—through every dodged question, unexplained absence, every moment Chris seems to drift further even when he's right there.

Something's coming. Dennis just doesn't know what.

Yet.

37Snowball Effect

Dennis avoids Chris for the rest of the week.

When Chris plants a small kiss on the back of his head before sneaking out each morning, Dennis lies still, wondering if Chris even realizes he's awake. Maybe Chris is too consumed by whatever's tearing them apart to notice.

When Chris needs to be "out late somewhere", Dennis doesn't even expect to know about it anymore.

They'd built something that felt unshakeable, yet in a few short weeks, they're like strangers.

He can't face Chris.

Part of him waits for Chris to talk first. To apologize and mean it this time. To prove "I'll make it up to you" isn't another lie piled onto that growing mountain between them.

Dennis is tired of chasing after him.

Chris keeps his distance too. He shows up to the site on time after Dennis's father's warning, but vanishes at five sharp.

By Friday night, Chris finally remembers Dennis exists, sending a midnight text asking where he is. Dennis switches off his bedroom light in his own apartment and doesn't reply.

Another Monday brings fresh headaches.

Dennis and Jason hover over blueprints and permit applications in Dennis's office, examining every detail with surgical precision.

"Check the load calculations again?" Dennis squints at page six.

"Third time." Jason rubs his eyes. "We can't afford another setback."

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