Page 162 of Under Construction

Dennis squeezes his hand. Even now, after everything, that admission costs Chris something.

"That’s settled, then," Mr. Kim says, standing and straightening his cuffs. He glances at Dennis. "I’ll return to your mother—she’s beside herself with worry. Kim Industries still needs its CEO in the public eye. You’ll handle things here. I’ll expect updates."

"Of course," Dennis replies, his voice steady. “Thanks for everything, Dad.”

Mr. Kim’s gaze sweeps the faces in the room for a moment before he nods and steps toward the door. "Good luck tomorrow. To all of us."

They work through the early afternoon, piecing together the plan while Chris drifts in and out of consciousness on the couch. Dennis keeps trying to get him to eat something, but Chris can only manage small sips of water.

By late afternoon, the drugs start wearing off. Chris is more alert, sitting up straighter, following the conversation with clear eyes.

"Get some rest," Jessica says, noticing Chris fighting to stay awake despite his improved state. "Both of you. We'll finalize everything in a few hours."

Dennis helps Chris up the stairs to the closest bedroom. The moment they get to the door, Chris turns into him, pressing his face into Dennis’s neck.

"Thank you," he whispers, letting Dennis take his weight, letting his arms go limp and floppy after having to keep it together for hours. "For finding me. For everything."

Dennis doesn’t mind. He holds him closer and lets the overwhelming relief of having Chris back in his arms wash over him.

55Comfort

There are three bedrooms upstairs, all looking equally unlived in. Each holds a queen bed, desk, and armchair, the decor a mismatched collection of hand-quilted bedding and vintage market finds—clearly chosen by someone who couldn’t resist a good treasure hunt and had no better place to put their spoils than the guest rooms.

Dennis gets Chris into the nearest bedroom, stripping him down to his boxer briefs before tucking him in. When he shifts to give Chris more space, Chris's hand shoots out, fingers closing around Dennis's wrist.

"Don't go. Please."

"Okay, okay." Dennis moves back to sit on top of the covers, but Chris tugs at him again, face pinched.

"Not there." Chris's voice comes rough. "Need you closer."

"Okay, I’m here." Dennis slides under the covers, settling against the headboard. Chris wraps around his waist immediately, head heavy on Dennis's lap. Dennis's fingers find Chris's hair, sweeping it back from his forehead in steady strokes until Chris's breathing evens out.

The moment Dennis adjusts an inch, Chris's eyes fly open, grip turning vice-like around Dennis's middle.

"Shhh, don’t be silly, it's just me moving my dead leg." Dennis keeps his voice light despite the ache in his chest.

"Need youcloser," Chris mumbles into Dennis's thigh. "Don't like being so far."

Dennis looks down at Chris practically crushing his ribcage. "Okay, but you gotta let go so I can at least get out of these clothes."

Chris loosens his hold a little but keeps one hand anchored in Dennis's shirt, then touching his skin while Dennis undoes his belt and shirt buttons. He manages to stretch just far enough to drape them over the armchair without dislodging Chris's grip.

"Better?"

Chris sighs, arms winding back around Dennis's waist, head settling on his lap. "Little bit."

They stay like this for an hour. Each time Dennis manages to pet Chris into some semblance of rest, the smallest movement jolts him awake—eyes snapping open at every creak of wood or whisper of wind.

Soon Chris is just staring at the wall, tossing and turning while keeping Dennis trapped in an increasingly tighter python-hold, leg hooked around Dennis's, face pressed so hard against Dennis's stomach it's getting hard to breathe.

Pins and needles shoot through Dennis's legs.

"Okay, okay—" Dennis tries to shift but Chris only grips harder. "Baby." He scratches his fingers through Chris's hair, into his scalp, feeling Chris go still under his touch like he'safraid movement will make it stop. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere, 'kay?"

"I'm sorry about lying to you," Chris blurts out. "About not telling you everything that was going on."

Dennis's chest constricts. After everything Chris did to protect him and their project from Lancaster, he's still fixating on that tiny detail, even with his innocence proven beyond doubt.

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