The morning air was crisp, the trailhead buzzing with chatter and anticipation. Ethan stood beside Joss, fingers brushing his as they waited for the lot draw to assign hiking teams.
He hoped—quietly, desperately—that they'd be together.
But fate had other plans.
The slips were drawn.
Five teams.
Ethan was placed in Team One.
Joss in Team Five.
The furthest apart.
Ethan's heart sank.
Ashton, standing beside him, grinned wide. "Looks like we're hiking together." He didn't even try to hide the satisfaction in his voice.
Joss's jaw tightened.
He didn't say a word.
But his eyes flicked to Ethan—sharp, unreadable, protective.
Ethan gave him a small smile. A silent message: I'm okay.
Joss nodded once, but the tension in his shoulders didn't ease.
They began the hike.
The trail wound through thick woods, sunlight filtering through the canopy in golden shards. Leaves crunched underfoot, birds called from the trees, and the scent of moss and damp earth filled the air.
Ethan walked near the front of his team, Ashton close beside him.
Joss, far behind, kept pushing to the front of his own group—eyes scanning the path ahead, trying to catch a glimpse of Ethan. But the trees were dense, and the teams were spaced too far apart.
Then a girl in Joss's team stumbled, breath ragged. She couldn't keep up.
They had to stop.
Team rules meant no one could be left behind.
Joss clenched his fists, jaw tight. Every second felt like a tether pulling him further from Ethan. He paced, restless, eyes darting toward the trail ahead.
"He's fine," someone said.
But Joss didn't hear them.
His mind was full of what ifs.
What if Ethan got hurt?
What if Ashton tried something?
What if he wasn't there when Ethan needed him?
He wished—fiercely—that it had been him who got injured. That he could trade places. That he could do more than just worry.
Up ahead, Ashton was stepping up his game.
He offered Ethan water, adjusted his backpack straps, pointed out roots and rocks to avoid. His voice was soft, his tone caring, his presence constant.
Ethan appreciated it.
But he felt the weight of it too.
Especially when Ashton's eyes caught the faint kiss mark on his chest—just visible beneath the collar of his shirt, blooming like a secret.
Ashton's gaze lingered.
His smile sharpened.
And something shifted.
He leaned in closer, brushing a leaf from Ethan's shoulder—but his fingers didn't leave immediately. They trailed down his arm, slow and deliberate, like he was testing the boundary.
"You okay?" Ashton asked, voice low.
Ethan nodded, stepping slightly away. "Yeah. Just tired."
But Ashton didn't back off.
He stayed close.
Too close.
When Ethan stumbled slightly on uneven ground, Ashton caught him—not just by the arm, but by the waist, his hand settling there with ease, fingers splayed against Ethan's side.
"Careful," he murmured, his breath brushing Ethan's ear.
Ethan stiffened.
"I'm fine," he said, trying to step away.
But Ashton held on a moment longer.
"You don't have to be," he said. "I'm here."
Then, as they paused at a clearing, Ashton reached out again—this time to adjust Ethan's collar, fingers grazing the kiss mark deliberately.
"Looks like someone left a souvenir," he said, voice dipped in something darker.
Ethan's breath caught.
He pulled back, cheeks flushing. "It's nothing."
Ashton tilted his head. "Doesn't look like nothing."
His hand brushed Ethan's wrist—light, teasing, but unmistakably intimate.
Ethan didn't respond.
He just turned away, eyes scanning the trees, heart thudding—not from desire, but from discomfort.
He thought of Joss.
Of the way Joss touched him like he mattered.
Of the way Joss looked at him like he was something worth protecting.
And suddenly, Ashton's closeness felt like noise.
Too loud.
Too much.
But before Ethan could create distance, his foot caught on a root.
He stumbled.
Pain shot up his ankle.
And everything changed.
Ashton caught him.
"Easy," he said, gripping Ethan's waist. "You sprained it."
Ethan winced, trying to stand. But the pain shot up his leg, sharp and unforgiving.
The team had moved ahead.
They were alone.
Lost.
Back at the destination point, the teams gathered.
Except Team One was missing two.
Joss's heart dropped.
He scanned the crowd, eyes wild.
"Where's Ethan?"
No one had seen him.
The tour guide prepared to search.
Joss didn't wait.
He followed, fast and silent, every step fueled by panic.
His mind raced—He's hurt. He's alone. I should've been there. I should've protected him.
He didn't care about rules.
Didn't care about appearances.
He just needed to find him.
They found them near a bend in the trail, Ethan sitting on a fallen log, ankle swollen, face pale. Ashton stood beside him, trying to help, but Ethan looked distant—eyes scanning the trees, searching.
Then he saw Joss.
And everything shifted.
Joss rushed forward, dropped to his knees.
"You okay?"
Ethan nodded, eyes glassy. "I think it's just a sprain."
Joss didn't hesitate.
He turned, crouched low.
"Come on. I've got you."
Ethan blinked. "You don't have to—"
"I want to."
He lifted Ethan onto his back, arms strong, movements careful.
Ethan wrapped his arms around Joss's shoulders, cheek resting against his neck.
He felt safe.
Held.
Protected.
Ashton watched, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.
But Ethan didn't look back.
He closed his eyes, letting Joss carry him through the woods.
And in that moment, he knew.
There was no one else he wanted to walk beside.