NorthEast

snz blog | 20+ she/her

[north-east-sf]

Welcome! 👋🏼

I’m NorthEast and I enjoy writing snz sickfics + slow burns + emotionally repressed people having a terrible time (and then taking care of each other)

This is basically where I dump all my little daydreams into actual stories

If you’re here for: - enemies to lovers - caretaking/allergies - tension + vulnerability

You’re in the right place!

Feel free to send asks about my stories or characters, I love talking about them :)

note: this is an 18+ blog, please don’t interact if you’re a minor

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My OC Fics:

The Discipline of Falling Apart (M/M)

A slow-burn enemies to lovers story following my college OC's Sawyer Henderson and Harrison Whitaker.

Character Visuals: Here & Here

Chapter 1 is: Here Chapter 2 is: Here Chapter 3 is: Here Chapter 4 is: Here Chapter 5 is: Here Chapter 6 is: Here Chapter 7 is: Here Chapter 8 is: Here Chapter 9 is: Here (nsfw) Chapter 10 is: Here Chapter 11 is: Here Chapter 12 is: Here Chapter 13 is: Here Chapter 14 is: Here Chapter 15 is: Here Chapter 16 is: Here Chapter 17 is: Here

[north-east-sf]

The Discipline of Falling Apart | Ch 17

A slow-burn enemies to lovers story following my college OC's Sawyer Henderson and Harrison Whitaker Word Count: 4,113

Chapter 1 is: Here | Chapter 2 is: Here | Chapter 3 is: Here | Chapter 4 is: Here | Chapter 5 is: Here | Chapter 6 is: Here | Chapter 7 is: Here | Chapter 8 is: Here | Chapter 9 is: Here (nsfw) | Chapter 10 is: Here | Chapter 11 is: Here | Chapter 12 is: Here | Chapter 13 is: Here | Chapter 14 is: Here | Chapter 15 is: Here | Chapter 16 is: Here

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Chapter 17 - Sawyer’s POV

The LSAT was in seven days and Sawyer had officially lost his mind.

He never thought he’d be the academic nerd that holed up in libraries at night studying instead of partying, but here he was. He blinked and somehow summer was almost over. His whole life was just wake up, study, forget to eat and study more. He’d taken practice tests and had actually scored fairly high (which was insane). It meant he could maybe get into a decent law school, which also meant he couldn’t stop now. Because what if it was luck? What if he bombed the real thing and spent the rest of his life managing the Henderson family portfolio while his father made snide remarks about his lack of direction?

Sawyer’s whole routine fell to shit. He was basically living off energy drinks and ate cold pizza at midnight after forgetting about dinner. He didn’t have as much time for the gym anymore. He even smoked one cigarette (which he’d sworn off) when the stress felt like it might literally kill him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken an evening off. Even Harrison started commenting on the dark circles under his eyes during their nightly calls. Sawyer would laugh it off and change the subject.

A couple of days before the test he woke up feeling like absolute dog shit. He made it to the library because he refused to let himself wallow but he spent it just staring at his laptop screen while his nose ran constantly and he had to keep reaching for the tissues he’d stuffed in his pocket.

He was getting sick. He knew he was getting sick. The timing was so fucking unfair that he wanted to laugh, except laughing made him cough.

That night he laid in bed feeling sorry for himself. He’d gone through an entire tissue box in the last few hours and he was either sneezing or on the verge of one. 

His phone buzzed and Harrison’s name filled the screen. 

After their cabin trip they’d been talking whenever Harrison’s schedule allowed (which wasn’t often). Training camp was apparently brutal but he always made time when Sawyer texted, even if it was just for ten minutes.

Sawyer stared at the screen. He shouldn’t answer. He looked like shit and he didn’t want Harrison to see him sniffling into his hoodie. But the panic about the LSAT was rising in his chest.

He swiped to answer and Harrison’s face filled the screen. 

“Hey,” Harrison greeted. Then the smile faded. “Whoa. You look-”

“Like garbage?”

“I would argue handsome garbage.”

Sawyer chuckled which turned into a wet cough that made Harrison wince. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”

“Yes,” Sawyer’s voice cracked. He rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand which was already chapped and red from constant wiping. “God, I’m so fucked Harrison. I’m so fucking fucked. I can’t..I can’t breathe through my nose, I can’t focus, I keep sneezing every five minutes and-”

“Hey, hey, slow down.” Harrison’s green eyes were serious. “It’s okay.”

“I’m panicking!”

“About what? The cold? It’ll pass.”

“No not the cold!” Sawyer snapped then immediately regretted it. He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t take the LSAT like this tomorrow. I can’t think. My brain is full of snot.” He sniffled thickly and hated how childish he sounded.

Harrison’s expression softened. “You’ve been studying for this thing for months. Being a little stuffed up isn’t going to erase that.”

“Easy for you to say!” Sawyer’s voice cracked, which embarrassed him. “You’re a tank! You can play perfect games when you’re sick. I can’t even think straight right now.”

“Sawyer.” Harrison’s voice was firm but gentle. “I don’t throw perfect passes because I’m a tank. I throw them because I’ve practiced. You know this shit. You’ve been grinding for months. You’ve done too much work for one cold to wipe it out.”

“You don’t know that,” Sawyer protested. He sniffled wetly and swiped a tissue from the box on his nightstand. “What if I sneeze through the whole test? What if I can’t concentrate? What if I fuck up?”

“Then we’ll deal with it.” Harrison said simply. “But you’re not gonna fuck up. Just go in there and do your thing. And listen, I have a break from training camp tomorrow and the next day. Don’t be afraid to text or call me about how it goes. I’ll be waiting.”

Sawyer wiped his nose again. “You’re not gonna be busy?”

“I’ll make time.”

Sawyer felt himself breathe a little easier. “Okay. I’ll call you after.”

“Get some sleep,” Harrison urged softly. “And Sawyer? You’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer rasped. “Okay.”

They hung up. Sawyer sat in the quiet of his room and realized his nose was running again. He didn’t have the energy to reach for a tissue. He just let it drip and felt sorry for himself in a way that would’ve embarrassed him if he had any pride left.

His throat was killing him. Maybe tea would help. He shuffled downstairs to the kitchen. The house was silent, which was why he damn near had a heart attack when the lights flipped on.

“Shit!” Sawyer gasped.

Richard Henderson stood in the doorway holding a glass of scotch. He looked completely put together, which somehow made Sawyer feel even more disgusting standing there in sweatpants and a hoodie he’d been wiping his nose on. 

For a second, neither of them said anything. Sawyer resisted the urge to sniff. His nose was already threatening to run again but something about doing it in front of his father felt humiliating.

“Didn’t expect you to be up.” 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sawyer mumbled. He turned back toward the counter and busied himself filling the kettle, mostly so he wouldn’t have to look at him. He hoped his father would just leave. No such luck. Behind him came the quiet clink of the glass against the counter.

“Big day tomorrow,” his father said. “You ready?”

Sawyer shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” He cleared his throat, which triggered a cough.

He heard his father pause. “You sick?”

Sawyer closed his eyes. “Yeah. Just a cold. Been studying too much I guess.” He knew he sounded congested. His nose was starting to tickle again with that awful, inevitable buildup that meant another sneeze was coming.

“Mmm.” His father moved closer. “Do you have everything ready for tomorrow?”

“Yeah Dad. I have everything.”

“Don’t take any cold medicine that makes you groggy,” his father noted. He sounded like he was talking to an employee, not his son. “Can’t afford to be drowsy during the test. You need to be sharp.”

“I know,” Sawyer responded. He turned and reached for a mug in the cabinet as his nose started to tickle. His hands were shaking slightly from exhaustion and the terror of standing in the same room as his father while his life was falling apart. He scrubbed hard beneath his nostrils trying to make the feeling go away. Ugh not now. 

His father was watching him. Sawyer could feel it.

“You should get to bed early,” his father said after a beat.

“I will.” Sawyer answered too quickly. His nostrils flared and he pressed the back of his wrist firmly beneath his nose. The tickle was escalating. Shit. He knew it was coming. He turned his head away as his breath began to hitch. “Hih..”

He buried his face in the crook of his arm just in time.

“Hh’...ngktSH!...k’tshh!—kshh’ngkt!”

Three wet sneezes burst helplessly into his sleeve. When he lowered his arm, his nose was running like crazy. Gross. He unrolled a paper towel, pressed it to his streaming nose and blew. The sound was loud in the quiet kitchen. God, he hated his father seeing him like this. But there was no way he could sniff back the mess.

Richard Henderson studied his son with his usual blank expression. The tea kettle started to whistle behind them. 

Say something, Sawyer thought. Say anything.

Bless you. Good luck tomorrow. I’m proud of you for getting this far. 

But his father just looked at his son with an unreadable expression and then headed toward the door. “Don’t stay up too late,” he said and walked out.

Sawyer stood there with the kettle screaming behind him. He didn’t move to turn it off. 

He was supposed to be an adult taking the LSAT tomorrow but he was sick and exhausted. And even though he knew better, there was a tiny childish part of him that wanted his father to turn around and say “You’ll be okay. I’ve got you.”

But his father simply..couldn’t. Sawyer shouldn’t have expected anything.

He sighed and turned off the shrieking kettle. He was on his own for tomorrow.

***

The testing center check-in took forever. Every few minutes Sawyer had to sniff hard or wipe his nose. By the time he made it to his assigned seat, he was already exhausted. His stomach was in knots. 

The LSAT. The fucking LSAT. This was his chance to turn things around.

And he was fucking sick.

His eyes tracked the first words on the screen but his brain couldn’t process them. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. This was the most important test of his life so far and his body was screwing him over in the worst way possible. 

Sawyer rubbed his nostrils in slow circles through the handkerchief as he tried to massage the itch away. Don’t sneeze. Don’t you dare sneeze.

His breath hitched into a desperate inhale that drew a look from the person to his left. 

No. No, no, no!

He pinched his nostrils through the handkerchief. The sneeze backed off but he knew it was still there. He groaned and rubbed furiously. Please, not now. Sawyer exhaled shakily and glanced back at the screen. He had no idea what the answer was. He read the question again and felt panic rising when none of it stuck. 

Come on. You know this.

Sawyer forced himself to read the question again slower this time. And then finally, his brain kicked in. He did know this. 

The next question was easier. So was the one after that and somewhere along the way Sawyer stopped thinking about how badly his head hurt. He knew how to do this. He’d done it over and over again in libraries at 2AM when Harrison was texting him to go the fuck to sleep.

By the time he reached the next passage, the room around him had started to disappear. He read through the questions with enough confidence that he almost started to feel like himself again. 

Then his nose began to prickle.

Seriously?

He pinched his nostrils through the handkerchief and felt the sneeze back off, although the irritation remained hovering somewhere just beneath the surface. Sawyer exhaled shakily and looked back at the question.

The itch returned suddenly and aggressively like someone had shoved a feather up his nose. A part of him desperately wanted to let loose so it would finally grant him some damn relief. But the other rational part was fighting it with everything he had. He couldn’t. Not here. The last thing he needed was to cause a scene. 

He tilted his head back as his mouth fell open slightly. His nostrils flared wide against the handkerchief and he could feel the pressure mounting.

“Hah..hih….”

He pinched his nose through the cloth. The itch was denied its release and went crazy. A muffled whimper escaped his lips. It was coming and he couldn’t hold it. He squeezed his eyes shut and choked out another series of stifles.

“Nggxt! Nxt! k-mpht!…hnggxt!”

Pain exploded behind his eyes and his nose throbbed in protest. He risked a glance around. A few annoyed people had looked up. He mouthed a silent “sorry” and turned back to his test. 

Fuck. Where was he?

Sawyer stared at it, frustrated enough that he wanted to hit something. For a few glorious minutes his brain had actually been working and he’d almost forgotten he was sick, and now whatever flow he’d had was completely gone.

The clock was ticking and the itch was still there and angry. And he was only halfway through.

***

“Time! Testing is complete.”

Sawyer stared at the screen. He felt wrung out and completely gassed. He had no idea how he’d done. He might have crushed it or totally fucked up and he was too tired to figure out which seemed more true. He stood up on legs that felt a little shaky and joined the zombie-like walk of future lawyers out of the testing hall and into the afternoon sun. As soon as he cleared the doors, he stopped. He was alone for a second and he remembered he had another handkerchief in his pocket. Sawyer pulled it out and blew long and hard. When he lowered the handkerchief, his nose immediately started running again. 

Well shit. At least he’d tried.

His brain felt like soup. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to a sea of texts. Good luck! You crushed it! Drinks tonight? His thumb scrolled past them all until he landed on one from Harrison right at the top. It wasn’t like the others. It just said: I’m here.

Sawyer stared at it. What the fuck??? He read it again. I’m here. Here where? The testing center? That was impossible. Harrison was away practicing with his team. Maybe it was a philosophical statement. Like, “I’m here for you in spirit.” That sounded like something Harrison would say when he was trying to be supportive but didn’t know what else to do. Too tired to think about whatever the hell Harrison meant, Sawyer shoved his phone back into his pocket and started toward his car.

The lot was empty now. People had already fled to bars or home or anywhere that wasn’t this soul crushing testing center. His car slowly came into view. 

And leaning against the driver’s side door looking ridiculously out of place, was Harrison. 

Sawyer’s brain short-circuited. He blinked hard, thinking maybe the congestion had finally reached his eyes and he was hallucinating. But Harrison pushed off the car and started walking toward him and he seemed…real. 

He felt like he might actually cry (which was embarrassing) so he settled for standing there like an idiot with his mouth open.

“Whad the…whad the fuck are you doig here?!”

“I had a couple days off and realized it was dumb for me to just sit around when you had this going on.” Harrison shrugged and looked almost sheepish. “So I came last minute and took a red-eye. Told you I’d make time. Surprised?”

Sawyer stared at him. “Thad’s objectively idsane.You flew here??? For this?” 

A warm wave washed over him. He was stupidly touched but another part of him was already listing all the reasons it was a bad idea. Sawyer immediately backed away. “I’b contagious,” he warned. “Like seriously, I’ve beed sneezig all day. You shouldn’t-”

Harrison shrugged. “I’ll risk it.” He stepped closer and took in Sawyer’s appearance and frowned. “How’d it go?”

And that was all it took. Everything he’d been holding together finally started slipping. The test, the months of studying, the exhaustion he’d been fighting off all day. He felt his throat get tight. Oh, fuck no. He was not gonna cry in a parking lot. But before he could, the itch that had been nagging him for the last few hours came back to life. 

Sawyer fumbled in his pocket for the handkerchief. “Sorry,” he gasped as his nostrils flared wildly. “I’ve beed holding these back all day. I really..hih! I really deed to sdeeze-” 

With a shuddering gasp he finally let go. 

“Hih’tschh! Hh—kshh! Hih—t’shh! Hh’tschh! Kshh! Hh—ng’tschh!”

They came rapid-fire so fast he could barely get a breath in between. 

“Hih..hih..hih’tschh! Hih—kshh! Hh—kshh! Hih’tschh!”

Fuck, they wouldn’t stop. His nose was finally getting its revenge for the hours of stifling.

“Hh’NGKXT’tshh! Hhh’eshh’ngh! “Hh’tschu!...Hhh’eshh’ngh! K’tschuh!”

Sawyer’s head was spinning. When was the last time he’d eaten? Drank water? He couldn’t remember. The sneezes kept coming with each one leaving him more dizzy than the last.

“Hih’NGKXT’shhoo! Hah-CHOO! Hhh...hih’KSSHH!”

Sawyer swayed and Harrison’s hand shot out to steady him. “Whoa.” His voice was sharp with concern. “You good?”

“Just dizzy,” Sawyer mumbled. Harrison’s palm came up to his forehead and his expression darkened. “You’re burning up Sawyer.”

“I know,” Sawyer whispered. He felt like he might actually pass out. The adrenaline from the test, seeing Harrison and that massive sneezing fit was all hitting him at once.

Harrison dropped his hand. “Look, I got us a rental house for a couple of days. I figured you’d want a break from being home with your parents.” 

Sawyer’s brain tried to process that. Just the two of them. God, that sounded good. “A house? Like, with a kitchen and a couch and not your family’s dusty cabid of death?”

“Exactly like that,” Harrison said with a hint of a smile returning.

“Okay,” Sawyer breathed. Then reality hit. “Shit. I dod’t have any clothes or by toothbrush. Or…anythig.”

“I brought extra stuff for you,” Harrison responded. Of course he’d already thought of everything. “But we can stop by your place if you want to grab anything.”

Sawyer thought about it. His father was probably home by now and ready to ask how the test went with that expectant look that said don’t disappoint me. The thought made his stomach twist. “Ndo,” he said more forcefully than he intended. “Let’s just go.” 

Harrison studied his face for a long moment. “Okay,” he said softly. “Let’s get out of here.”

*** Harrison’s POV ***

The rental house Harrison chose was some modern box thing on the edge of town. It was quiet and it wasn’t the Henderson estate, which meant Sawyer could actually collapse in peace.

Watching Sawyer stumble through the front door, he looked worse than he had in the parking lot if that was possible. His face was pale except for two bright red patches high on his cheekbones. His eyes were glassy and unfocused and the hazel color was washed out and he kept sniffling a wet desperate sound.

Even through Sawyer’s shirt, Harrison could feel the heat. Harrison got an arm under his shoulders and guided him toward the bedroom and Sawyer didn’t resist. That alone told Harrison how bad he was. Sawyer always had some smartass comment about being fine. Now he just leaned into Harrison’s side. The guilt hit Harrison hard as he watched Sawyer collapse onto the mattress. Sawyer never looked like this. He was the guy who bounced back from hangovers in an hour with that stupid cocky grin. 

Harrison had seen himself in mirrors looking similar when he’d push through illness. He’d always thought he was disciplined. But watching Sawyer now, he wondered if he’d just been stupid and if he’d somehow infected Sawyer with that same stupidity.

I did this, Harrison thought. I made him think he has to be perfect.

“Can you lift your arms?” Harrison asked. Sawyer tried but his hands were shaking. Harrison helped him out of the button down and then grabbed a t-shirt from his duffel he packed. “Arms up.”

Sawyer obeyed and lifted his arms as Harrison pulled the shirt over his head before guiding him down. Sawyer collapsed back onto the pillows and immediately started coughing. It was deep and it bent him double. Harrison sat beside him with one hand on his back and felt the way Sawyer’s body shook with each spasm. 

“You good?” Harrison asked, which was a stupid question but he didn’t know what else to say.

“I fucked it up,” Sawyer choked out. He sounded devastated. “I couldn’t thigk. I couldn’t..I was sneezig the whole tibe and by head was pouding and I couldn’t rebember anything. I probably failed. I probably fucking failed.” Sawyer’s lower lip trembled and Harrison realized with a jolt that he was trying not to cry. Sawyer Henderson, who made everything a joke and deflected with sarcasm, was about to cry over a test.

“You did your best,” Harrison said. He meant it. He could hear the hoarseness in his own voice and the desperation to make Sawyer believe it. 

“That’s ndot...” Sawyer turned his head away. A tear escaped. “That’s ndot how this works. I deeded to ace it. I deeded to prove I’b ndot a fuck-up and that I’b worth somethig besides by fambily name.” He sniffed. “I deed a good score to get into Northwestern. That was the whole point. So we could be in the same city.”

It suddenly clicked. Northwestern. The same city. Harrison felt a surge of hot anger. He hated Richard Henderson a little more in that moment.

“You’re not a fuck-up,” Harrison murmured into Sawyer’s hair. “You’re the smartest person I know. One test doesn’t change that. And we don’t know how you did. We’ll figure it…us out, whether you get into Northwestern or not.”

Sawyer made this sound that was half laugh, half sob. Then he pulled back slightly and Harrison saw his face crumple into that familiar pre-sneeze expression.

“Sorry,” Sawyer gasped. “Sorry, I cad’t...I’ve been holding these back all day...”

Harrison grabbed a tissue from the nightstand but Sawyer was already turning toward him and burying his face in Harrison’s shoulder.

“Hng’tshhh! Hah-nng’tshhh! Hih… hhng’tshhhhh!”

They came one after another with barely a breath between them. Harrison felt the spray against his collarbone and the wet warmth soaking through his shirt but he didn’t care. He wrapped his arms tighter around Sawyer as the fit continued. He felt Sawyer’s body jerk with each explosion.

“Hh’kshhh!—h’kshh!—Ksshh! H’gshhuh! Hih—KSHH!”

Sawyer was gasping between them, unable to catch his breath. 

“Hhh...hih’KSSHH! Hh...tchh! Hh’tschh’iew! H’gshhuh! Hh..ih...t’shhIEW!”

Sawyer collapsed against him and Harrison held him. He felt the wet patch on his shoulder where Sawyer’s nose had been pressed and felt the heat of his fever through his clothes. Sawyer’s skin was clammy now and he was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. Harrison reached for the tissue box and pulled out a handful and pressed them to Sawyer’s face.

“Blow,” he said gently.

Sawyer obeyed and blew. The sound was congested and miserable. Harrison wiped for him when he was done and tossed the tissues into the trash can beside the bed. But Sawyer’s nose was still running and he pressed his hand against it.  “Id’s just...so frustratig.” His voice thick with emotion. “I cad’t thigk...I cad’t even breathe. Every tibe I try to take a real breath, it just...hh...it just starts all over again.”

As if to prove his point, his nostrils began to twitch again. “Oh no...H’gshhuh! Hh..ih...t'shhIEW! Hh'ksh!—h'kshh!—Ksshh!”

Harrison had never seen him like this. Even when he’d talked about his brother, there was always a part of him holding back..some smart comment ready to go. But now there was nothing. Just Sawyer, completely wrecked.

“I’b gonna get you sick,” Sawyer whispered. His voice was barely there.

“Probably,” Harrison agreed. He smoothed Sawyer’s hair back from his forehead. “I’ll worry about that later.”

“You shouldn’t...you have trainig...”

“I’ve played through worse.” Harrison stood. “I’m gonna get you some water and medicine.”

He went to the kitchen, filled a glass and grabbed the bottle of cold medicine from his bag. Harrison set the glass down and shook out two pills. Sawyer swallowed then blew his nose which resulted in a series of wet gurgling sounds and a frustrated sigh. He blew again but when he lowered the tissues, his nostrils were still flaring and twitching. He had that awful about-to-sneeze look frozen on his face. “I’b so sick of this,” he groaned. “Every few bidutes…it’s all I’ve dode for what feels like forever.”

He looked so miserable Harrison wanted to take the sickness into his own body just to give Sawyer a break. Harrison stretched out beside him on the bed. His fingers found Sawyer’s hair and he stroked slowly. “I’m sorry you’re so sick but for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you,” he said quietly. “You showed up. That’s what matters.”

Sawyer made this soft noise like he wasn’t really agreeing but wasn't arguing either. Harrison pressed another kiss to Sawyer’s forehead and kept his hand moving through Sawyer’s hair until his breathing deepened completely.

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[north-east-sf]

Being passionate about plot in a snz fic I’ve created FOR FUN ironically has me stresseddddd 🥲

Because how do I create my fav snz scenarios while keeping things somewhat realistic? Why do I take this task SO SERIOUSLY????? How tf am I at 16 whole ass chapters?????

[quosterking]

Snzblr Community Book Nook!!

I’m starting up a chain of support for the amazing writers on snzblr!! If you’d like to participate, reblog this post with 1-5 fics FROM OTHERS (aka not ones you’ve written). Tag the author, link the fic, and tell us what you liked about it!!

Let’s appreciate our fellow writers and hype up some of the amazing stuff they make!!

[smaragdine-snz]

@nametakensff for Sick Hopper found here. I love Jim and so I was super excited to see some content of him. Even got a commission of Jim so guilty as charged, I do have a soft spot. It touched very sweetly upon his relationship with Joyce as well.

@shamefilledsnzblog The Weather Turns found here. I love a sopping wet lighthouse man and this fic has inspired me to want to revisit my the Fal/lout universe and do a fic of some Far Harbor radioactive seaside fisherman misery. Maybe one day. Nonetheless, great read, lovely pathetically wet energy on Crawford with him being my type of charming for sure.

@boxofmushy Two for One and Done found here. I have been lurking on a Fallen London priest OC for way too long and again, this fic really makes me want to do something with the gremlin in my brain because it was so good. The way the two characters handle their newfound situation in the end is great, I will leave you to read it if you haven't yet!

@north-east-sf The Discipline of Falling Apart found here (part one). I just love these characters and the dynamic, plus with 15 parts right now it definitely gives you some satisfaction to read. Lovely read, really good.

@just-a-nervous-bean this this this here of Maud having her book club and the whole caretaking plus Maud herself feeling a bit off is all very very good. Maud and Biddley are both so sweet and who doesn't love a bit of 1920s fiction?

And I know it was supposed to be 1-5 BUT honorary mention for all things from @gay-for-the-snz who has given me nothing but delicious food for the Fallen London universe we are both so fond of. Thank you, delicious friend!

Personally, I have seen a lot of great MxF fics and a lot of great MxM fics but I would love suggestions for FxF fics in the community to go read as well!

[north-east-sf]

The Discipline of Falling Apart | Ch 16

A slow-burn enemies to lovers story following my college OC's Sawyer Henderson and Harrison Whitaker

Word Count: 2,839

Chapter 1 is: Here | Chapter 2 is: Here | Chapter 3 is: Here | Chapter 4 is: Here | Chapter 5 is: Here | Chapter 6 is: Here | Chapter 7 is: Here | Chapter 8 is: Here | Chapter 9 is: Here (nsfw) | Chapter 10 is: Here | Chapter 11 is: Here | Chapter 12 is: Here | Chapter 13 is: Here | Chapter 14 is: Here | Chapter 15 is: Here

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Chapter 16 - Sawyer’s POV

Sawyer woke up to the sensation of a thousand tiny feathers tickling the inside of his nose that made his nostrils flare before his eyes were even open. He buried his face in the pillow and tried to smother the urge before it fully woke him up. No dice. The pillowcase smelled like dust and old fabric softener and his sinuses immediately reacted.

“Hih-KSHH! Hh—kshh! Hih—t’shh!”

The sneezes ripped out of him in rapid succession. His nose was already running with that gross early morning allergy drip that meant he was going to be a mess until he got meds in him. He sat up and blinked at the room through blurry eyes.

Right. Harrison’s family’s cabin which was genuinely ancient. Sawyer rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. He had completely forgotten how fucking allergic he was to dust. Growing up, his house had been cleaned daily by a service. Vacations had been Ritz-Carltons or the Four Seasons where he never had to think about dust. The closest Sawyer had come to “rustic” was a ski lodge in Aspen.

He could practically hear Harrison’s dry and unimpressed voice in his head. Oh I’m sorry, is this peasant air too dirty for you? 

Sawyer rolled his eyes at himself. Yeah okay, he was spoiled. He knew it. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room was honestly kind of nice if he ignored the dust. The walls were real wood (not that fake paneling shit) and the window faced out over the lake. It was small and cramped with a dresser that had a slight lean to it and a closet door that didn’t quite close all the way. But it felt like people had actually lived there. Sawyer’s family had rooms that looked like museum exhibits.

He heard clattering from the kitchen. Harrison was already up. The guy had probably been awake since 5AM.

Sawyer sniffled and felt the congestion shift in his sinuses. He needed coffee and drugs (preferably in that order). He shuffled out of the bedroom in his boxers and the shirt he’d slept in. His nose twitched with every step. There was dust floating in the hallway too. 

Harrison was at the stove wearing sweatpants and a faded t-shirt from some high school football camp. His hair was damp from a shower and he had that post workout glow.

“Morning,” Harrison greeted. “You sound like shit.”

“Fuck you,” Sawyer rasped but it lacked heat. He slid onto one of the kitchen chairs and rested his forehead on the table. 

Harrison looked up and his expression softened. Sawyer probably looked like he’d been on a 3 day bender, which for once, he had not. Harrison set a mug of coffee in front of him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of allergy pills. “I heard you sneezing from the kitchen.”

Sawyer grabbed the pills. “You’re a lifesaver. I was gonna have to cut off my own nose.”

“Don’t do that. I like your nose.” Harrison leaned against the counter. “You okay? I should’ve warned you about the dust.”

“It’s fine.” Sawyer popped the pills in his mouth. “Just forgot how allergic I am.”

“My dad texted,” Harrison said as he set his phone down. “They’ll be here in an hour.”

Sawyer’s stomach did a weird twist. 

“You ready?” Harrison asked.

Sawyer glanced up and put on his best cocky grin. It was the one he used at parties when he didn’t know anyone, the one that said he didn’t give a shit about anything when really he gave way too many shits about everything.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He leaned back in the chair and threw his arms wide. “Bring on the Whitakers. I’m charming as fuck. They’ll love me.”

Harrison raised an eyebrow. “That confidence is terrifying.”

Sawyer just winked at him over the rim of his coffee cup.

***

An hour later Sawyer was standing in the living room wearing jeans and a plain white tshirt. He’d considered one of his designer polos but decided that would make him look like an asshole. Instead, he looked like he was trying just hard enough to show respect without trying so hard that it was pathetic.

His nose was still bothering him. The pills hadn’t fully kicked in yet and there was a dull pressure behind his eyes. But he could deal with a stuffy nose for an hour. He’d faked his way through worse. He was a Henderson after all. Years of family events had taught him one thing: no one wanted to hear you were uncomfortable. Looking miserable wasn’t really an option.

He heard the car pull up.

“Here we go,” Harrison muttered and he looked nervous too which made Sawyer feel better. Not the way Sawyer was nervous though. Harrison could keep his shit buried deep.

The door opened and suddenly the cabin was full of people. Harrison’s mom was first. She was short with Harrison’s green eyes and a hug that caught Sawyer completely off guard. “Finally!” she exclaimed as she pulled back to look at him. “We’ve been dying to meet you. Harrison talks about you constantly.”

“Mom,” Harrison groaned, sounding pained.

“Oh, hush. You do.” She patted Sawyer’s cheek. “You’re even cuter than in your pictures. And you look tired. Was the drive awful?”

Sawyer blinked, thrown off by the immediate warmth. “Uh, no. I mean, yes, it was fine. I mean-”

“Call me Linda.” She gave Sawyer’s arm a quick squeeze then turned to Harrison. “He’s sweet. I like him.”

Next came the dad. He was shorter than Harrison with the same blonde hair that was going gray. He shook Sawyer’s hand with a grip that was firm but not trying to prove anything and he had laugh lines around his eyes that made Sawyer relax a bit.

“Good to meet you,” he said. “Harrison says you’re studying law?”

“Yes. Or trying to. I’m taking the LSAT in August so...we’ll see.”

“Nice.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get lunch going. If we don’t eat soon the kids will finish it before we get to the table.”

Then there was the younger sister Emma that had Harrison’s sharp cheekbones and a look of curiosity that made Sawyer feel like she was sizing him up hard. She hugged him before darting off to put her bag in her room. And then the older brother Jake, with a beard and kind eyes and the same quiet intensity that Harrison had but softer around the edges. He shook Sawyer’s hand. “So you’re the one who finally got this guy to loosen up. I’ve been trying for my whole life.”

“Jake,” Harrison warned.

“What? It’s true.”

They settled around the table in the dining area. Sawyer found himself between Emma and Jake with Harrison across from him and the parents at either end. The food was simple: turkey and ham sandwiches with chips and pickles. 

Sawyer took a bite and immediately felt his nose start to twitch. Shit.

He’d forgotten that his allergies were still raging. The dust hadn’t magically disappeared just because company had arrived. It was in the air and settling on his nose and making his nasal passages swell. He was already starting to feel stuffy again. 

“So,” Harrison’s mom began. She turned to Sawyer with a smile. “Harrison tells us you’ve been turning your grades around. That’s impressive. Law school’s no joke.”

“Thank you. And yes, I’m doing my best,” Sawyer replied. His voice had gone slightly nasal. He swallowed as he felt the tickle intensify. He brought one hand up to his face and rubbed the tip of his nose with his knuckle. “I wasn’t exactly a great student before but…yeah. Figured it was time to get my act together.”

“Modest too,” Harrison’s dad noted.

Harrison snorted. “He’s not. He’s just trying to make a good impression.”

“Well it’s working,” Jake laughed.

And then Harrison’s dad started a story about Harrison as a kid and suddenly everyone was talking over each other laughing and sharing memories. Sawyer found himself relaxing despite the tickle in his nose. They gave each other endless shit but nobody ever seemed mean about it. This was what he’d missed growing up. Nobody seemed worried about saying the wrong thing. Sawyer couldn’t remember the last Henderson dinner that had felt this easy.

And Harrison was different here. He grinned more and was less guarded. He was still intense (he always was) but he seemed lighter surrounded by his family.

As lunch wore on, Sawyer felt a sharp prickle spark to life deep inside his left nostril and panic made his pulse jump. He couldn’t sneeze in the middle of lunch while everyone was looking. He was trying so hard to be the cool put together boyfriend who definitely wasn’t a spoiled rich kid who couldn’t handle a little dust.

But Sawyer couldn’t hold it back anymore. He lurched forward in his chair and pressed his fingers tightly around his nose. The first sneeze tore through him as a half-stifled, painful explosion that made his ears pop.

“—hh’NGGKXt!”

It was quiet but it was enough. The floodgates had been thrown open.

“Ngkxt!...Nggxt! K-nxt! Nggt!...Nxt! K-mpht!...Ngxt!”

His eyes watered and tears leaked from the corners. The sneezes tried to escape but he forced them back as pressure exploded behind his eyes. 

“Hih—mmph! K-nxt! Nggt!”

The stifled sneezes had forced the wall of congestion to break and now his nose was starting to run. He was frantically trying to sniff it back. The table had gone quiet.

“Bless you,” Harrison’s mom murmured softly.

Sawyer’s face burned with embarrassment. His nose was running freely now and he had to wipe it with his napkin. “Sorry. Just allergies.”

“He’s really sensitive to dust,” Harrison explained and Sawyer could hear the concern in his voice. “The cabin’s a bit...rustic.”

“Oh honey.” Harrison’s mom looked around as if seeing the dust for the first time. “I’m so sorry. We should have cleaned it out better.”

“It’s not-” Sawyer started, but had to stop to clear his throat. “It’s not your fault at all. Really. I’m..yeah, I’m a bit of a wimp about dust apparently.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harrison’s dad reassured. He was standing up. “We can open the windows and get some air moving.”

“No please, don’t go to any trouble-”

“It’s no trouble,” Harrison’s mom insisted. 

Sawyer thought of the Henderson house. If he’d been sneezing through lunch, the house staff would’ve quietly cracked a window before his parents ever noticed. And if they had noticed, they probably would’ve asked someone else to handle it. 

“I...thank you,” he managed. Another tickle bloomed deep in his nose. His nostrils flared helplessly as he fought for a steady breath. Harrison’s eyes searched Sawyer’s face. “Why don’t you go take another allergy pill and blow your nose? It’s okay.”

Grateful for the excuse to escape, Sawyer nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be right back.”

He kept his head down as he walked down the hallway as tried to hold it together. He barely made it into the bedroom before shoving the door shut behind him. As soon as the door closed, he let go.

“Hih—KSHH! H’gshhuh! Hh..ih...t’shhIEW!”

The sneezes ripped through him one after another. For the first time all afternoon he didn’t have to worry about looking composed. 

“Hh’IITSCHH!—Hh’tschh!....Hh-uh’TSCHH! Tschh!”

One last hitch caught in his throat.

“Hih...heh...K’SHH!”

He found the allergy meds Harrison had given him earlier and took another one (even though he wasn’t supposed to) and then locked himself in the bathroom. He grabbed a wad of toilet paper and blew his nose again and again until his sinuses felt less like they were going to explode.

He took a deep breath. Okay. He could do this. He was Sawyer fucking Henderson. He’d survived worse than a dusty cabin and an embarrassing sneezing fit. He straightened his shirt and practiced a smile in the mirror: crooked, confident and hiding the lingering itch.

He walked back out to join them. The windows were open with a breeze moving through the cabin that hadn’t been there before. 

“You okay?” Harrison murmured as Sawyer sat down.

“Peachy,” Sawyer whispered back. “Just needed to...you know. Expel some demons.”

Harrison’s hand found his under the table and squeezed once before letting go.

“So,” Sawyer began. He pulled out his trademark grin though it felt more real this time. “What other embarrassing stories about Harrison do you guys have?” 

***

After lunch, Harrison’s family started clearing plates and his mom waved off Sawyer’s offer to help. “You boys go get some air,” she insisted. “Dinner won’t be for a few hours anyway.”

Harrison caught Sawyer’s eye and tilted his head toward the back door. They slipped out onto the porch and down the wooden steps that led to the dock. The afternoon sun was bright on the water.

The dock creaked under their feet as they walked to the end. Harrison sat down and let his legs dangle over the edge. After a second, Sawyer joined him.

“So,” Harrison began. “What’s the verdict?”

“On your family?” Sawyer kicked at the water with his heel. “They’re cool. Your mom’s sweet. And your dad’s funny.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Sawyer could hear birds somewhere in the trees behind them. The fresh air felt good after being inside but his sinuses were still pissed off from earlier. His nostrils began to twitch.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just-” Sawyer’s breath hitched. “Hih...fuck..”

He turned his head away from Harrison as the sneezes burst out of him.

"Hih—KSHH!"

And then another. “Hh’tschh!”

He fumbled for the napkin he’d shoved in his pocket earlier and caught the next ones in it. “Hh..ih...t’shhIEW! K’tschh!”

He blew his nose. “Jesus. Sorry.”

Harrison’s hand was rubbing his back. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” He wadded up the napkin and shoved it back in his pocket. “Sorry I’m such a disaster.”

“You’re not.” Harrison bumped his shoulder against Sawyer’s. “You’re just allergic to my childhood.”

“Apparently.” Sawyer looked out at the water. “This is nice though.”

“Yeah. We used to come here every summer when I was a kid. My dad would take us fishing even though none of us were any good at it.” Harrison smiled at the memory. “My mom would make us swim before dinner to tire us out but really I think she just wanted an hour of peace.”

Sawyer tried to imagine a young Harrison (before he got all intense and disciplined) as a kid jumping off this dock into the water. It was hard to picture.

“That sounds really nice,” he said quietly.

Harrison glanced at him. “What were your family vacations like?”

Sawyer let out a short laugh. “Uhh. Different. We’d go to some fancy resort where everything was scheduled. My parents would be off doing God knows what. Grant and I would-” 

He stopped. He hadn’t meant to bring up Grant.

But Harrison didn’t push. He just waited.

“Grant and I would sneak off,” Sawyer continued after a beat. “He could charm anyone into letting us go places we weren’t supposed to.” He picked at a splinter on the dock. “Vacations weren’t bad or anything. Just...not like this.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Like a family actually wanting to be around each other I guess.”

Harrison was quiet for a moment. Then he reached over and laced his fingers through Sawyer’s. “For what it’s worth, they really like you. My mom texted me while you were in the bathroom. She said: He’s lovely. Don’t screw this up.”

Sawyer laughed despite himself. “Mmm. Solid advice.”

“I thought so.” Harrison squeezed his hand. “You okay? Really?”

Sawyer looked at the way the sun caught in his hair and the softness in his expression that was so different from the intensity he wore everywhere else. 

“Yeah,” Sawyer said. “I’m good.” 

The sun was starting to dip lower.

“Grant would’ve liked you,” Sawyer said suddenly. He wasn’t sure why he said it but it felt true. “He was always trying to get me to be more responsible and make better choices. He would’ve been psyched that I actually have my shit together now. And he would’ve approved of you.”

Harrison was quiet before adding, “I wish I could’ve met him.”

“Me too.” Sawyer’s throat tightened. “He would’ve given you so much crap though. Big brother interrogation and all.”

“I could’ve handled it.”

“I know you could’ve.” Sawyer leaned his head against Harrison’s shoulder. “That’s why he would’ve liked you.” Sawyer looked over at Harrison’s easy grin that he didn’t get to see nearly enough. “Hey,” he murmured. “Thanks for bringing me here. Even if this cabin is literally trying to kill me.”

Harrison squeezed his fingers. “You’re welcome. Is it worth it?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Totally worth it.”

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Chapter 17 is: Here

[north-east-sf]

The Discipline of Falling Apart | Ch 15

A slow-burn enemies to lovers story following my college OC's Sawyer Henderson and Harrison Whitaker. Word Count: 2,556

Chapter 1 is: Here | Chapter 2 is: Here | Chapter 3 is: Here | Chapter 4 is: Here | Chapter 5 is: Here | Chapter 6 is: Here | Chapter 7 is: Here | Chapter 8 is: Here | Chapter 9 is: Here (nsfw) | Chapter 10 is: Here | Chapter 11 is: Here | Chapter 12 is: Here | Chapter 13 is: Here | Chapter 14 is: Here

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Chapter 15 - Harrison’s POV

If someone had asked Harrison Whitaker two years ago if he’d be driving up to his family’s cabin with Sawyer Henderson (who at one point was nothing more than a hungover lab partner he’d wanted to strangle) he would’ve assumed that person was insane. But here he was, navigating the winding mountain backroads with Sawyer sitting beside him.

It was July and the air had that thick, muggy quality that made everything feel slightly damp. The AC in Harrison’s truck was doing its best but Sawyer had his window cracked anyway. His elbow was resting on the frame and his fingers were tapping a restless rhythm against the door. He’d been like this for the last hour of the drive.

Sawyer’s summer had been spent interning at some corporate law firm three days a week and prepping for the LSAT in August. Harrison had watched him transform over the past few months as he shed the last traces of his frat boy aimlessness. These days, he moved like he had somewhere to be. Even sitting still, he seemed locked in. It was good to see. Sawyer could talk about whatever case he was researching for hours but it also meant he was running on empty. And now apparently, he was nervous.

Which was fucking bizarre because Sawyer Henderson didn’t get nervous about meeting people. Harrison had seen him walk into rooms full of NFL scouts, his father’s business associates and angry ex-boyfriends of girls he’d hooked up with and he’d never once lost that easy confidence. But as they turned onto the gravel road that led to the cabin, Sawyer was practically vibrating with tension.

“You okay?” Harrison asked.

Sawyer startled like he’d been somewhere else entirely. “Yeah. Just thinking about the LSAT.”

Harrison didn’t push. He knew better than to poke at Sawyer when he got like this and turned prickly.

The cabin came into view through the trees. Harrison hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the place until he saw it. It was smaller than he remembered, or maybe he was just bigger now. The logs were weathered and the porch sagged slightly. Nothing had changed. His parents hadn’t had the money or the time to fix it up and honestly, Harrison preferred it this way. 

They parked and Sawyer finally seemed to snap out of his head as he looked around with genuine curiosity. “This is it? This is where the golden boy quarterback learned to throw spirals?”

“Learned to chop wood actually,” Harrison replied wryly as he popped the trunk. “Football came later.”

Sawyer snorted and grabbed a duffel bag before following him up the porch steps. The air inside was stale and warm. It had been months since anyone had been up here. Harrison’s parents had been busy and Harrison himself had been living a life that didn’t include quiet weekends by the lake.

They dropped their bags in the main room and Harrison felt Sawyer’s eyes drifting around the space to the faded quilt on the couch and the trophy from Harrison’s high school state championship that his mom insisted on displaying. There were photos on the wall of Harrison as a chubby kid holding a fish and Harrison and his dad on the dock.

“This is weirdly cozy,” Sawyer murmured. “Which room’s yours?”

“End of the hall on the left.”

They carried their stuff down the narrow corridor with Harrison’s shoulders brushing against walls that now felt too close. His old room was exactly as he’d left it. Sawyer dropped his bag by the bed and immediately began unpacking. Harrison set his own stuff down and went back to the truck for the cooler and the last of their supplies. When he came back up the porch steps he heard a stifled sound from the bedroom.

He moved down the hall. Sawyer was sitting on the edge of the bed. Harrison could see the tension in his spine and the way his head was tilted slightly back. And then he heard a soft desperate hitch of breath that Harrison recognized too well.

“Hh..”

For a second Harrison thought he might actually fight it off. Sawyer was stubborn enough to try. But then his nostrils flared wide and a rapid fire series of sneezes erupted.

“Hih’tschh! Hh—kshh! Hih’tschh! Hh’tschh! Kshh! Hh—ng’tschh!”

The sneezes came fast and violent. “Damn,” Harrison breathed. “Bless you.”

Sawyer’s eyes were wrecked. They were red rimmed and swollen. The hazel color blurred with watery tears. A thin clear stream of fluid was starting to trickle from his left nostril. 

“You got any tissues?” Sawyer asked thickly. He took a shaky breath, which immediately hitched into a pre-sneeze gasp. Harrison saw the panic in his watering eyes with the realization that he wasn’t done and another wave was building.

Harrison blinked as his brain caught up. Tissues. Right. Normal people kept tissues in bedrooms. But this wasn’t really his bedroom anymore. It was a time capsule. “Shit. I don’t think so. We haven’t been up here in a while and my Mom usually stocks the place before anyone comes but we beat them here by a day.” He searched around frantically as his gaze landed on the dusty dresser and the empty nightstand before seeing the bathroom door down the hall. “There’s toilet paper in the bathroom, hang on.”

He sprinted down the hall and grabbed the roll from the holder. When he got back to the bedroom, Sawyer was sitting exactly where he’d left him. With desperation, Sawyer grabbed the roll from Harrison’s outstretched hand. He pressed the wad to his face and the fit took over completely with one sneeze crashing into the next without a chance to breathe in between.

Hh’tschh! Hh—ng’tschh! Hih…hih….kshh!

Sawyer’s shoulders jerked with each one and Harrison could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gasped for air between sneezes. 

“Hih..hih..hih’tschh! Hh’tschh! Hih—kshh!”

When it finally stopped, Sawyer slowly raised the wadded toilet paper to his face and blew his nose. The sound was raw and messy and Harrison tried not to wince.

Sawyer lowered the paper. His eyes were puffy and inflamed and his nose was an angry pink. 

“Are you okay?” Harrison asked as he stepped closer.

Sawyer waved him off but the gesture was weak. “Yeah I’m fine. Sometimes dust sets me off.” Harrison watched his nostrils twitch which meant he was fighting another round. “It’s just allergies or something. No big deal.”

Harrison looked around the room and saw what he’d missed before. The sun was streaming through the window and inside those beams the air was swirling with dust. It was floating and settling with every movement. The windowsill was filthy. Sawyer was sitting in a minefield.

“Fuck,” Harrison sighed as the guilt hit him hard. “I’m sorry. Yeah it’s been a while since anyone’s been here. It gets pretty dusty when we’re not around to air it out.”

Sawyer nodded but Harrison could see his nostrils fluttering again. “I..I think..hih..I’m gonna..hih-HIH!” He gasped and hitched as he unrolled more toilet paper with frantic fingers. He pressed it to his spasming nose just in time.

“Hih..hih..hih’tschh! Hh’tschh! Hih—kshh! Hh—kshh! Hih’tschh!”

The sneezes were coming so fast he could barely get a breath in between. He was completely overwhelmed.

“You gotta get out of this room,” Harrison said as he made a decision. “Come on. Let’s go to the store. We need to pick up groceries before my parents get here tomorrow anyway and we can grab you some allergy meds.” He began guiding Sawyer towards the door and away from the sunbeams filled with floating triggers. “Let’s get out of here before you sneeze your head off.”

***

They got back from the store later that afternoon. Sawyer had dry swallowed the allergy pills like a champ in the parking lot and by the time they’d unpacked the groceries and Harrison had gone through the cabin with a dust rag, he appeared better. Not great..his eyes remained slightly pink and he sniffled every few minutes, but better.

Harrison had thrown open every window he could find, wiped down surfaces and changed the sheets on his bed. By the time he collapsed onto the couch, he was sweating through his shirt and his back hurt but the place smelled like fresh air.

Sawyer was curled into the corner of the couch. He’d found the old TV remote and had some action movie playing that neither of them were actually watching.

“Look at you,” Sawyer chuckled. His voice still carried that nasal quality from earlier but it was clearer now. He gestured vaguely at Harrison with a bottle of water. “Mr. Domestic. I’m impressed.”

Harrison grunted and grabbed a beer from the fridge before settling in beside him. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Sawyer rubbed his nose with his knuckle. “You missed your calling. Forget the NFL. You could’ve been a maid.”

Harrison laughed. He took a pull from the beer. “If I weren’t a football player, I’d make a great stay at home husband. Cook, clean, keep the bed warm.”

Sawyer raised an eyebrow as a slow grin spread across his face. “Oh yeah? And what would I be doing while you’re playing housewife?”

“You’d be out making the money,” Harrison said. “Fancy lawyer in a suit bringing home the bacon.”

Sawyer laughed. He shifted on the couch and Harrison watched him rub at his eyes.

“You gonna make it?” Harrison asked.

“Yeah,” Sawyer sighed, but his voice sounded thick. “Just a little..hih..”

“Hh—kshh! Hih—t’schh!”

They were sharp and itchy, like something was tickling deep inside his sinuses and he couldn’t scratch it. 

Sawyer groaned. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “I hate allergies.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were so allergic to dust?” Harrison asked. “I would’ve aired the place out yesterday.”

Sawyer laughed but it turned into a cough. “Why didn’t you let me know your cabin was an untouched dusty museum of artifacts?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It was that bad. My head is killing me.”

Harrison set his beer down on the coffee table. “Come here.”

Sawyer cracked one eye open. “What?”

“Just..come here.”

Sawyer unfolded himself from the corner and slid down the couch until his head settled into Harrison’s lap. Sawyer’s hair was soft and falling across his forehead in messy waves. Harrison ran his fingers through it.

“Better?” Harrison asked.

“Mmm,” Sawyer hummed. “You’re good at this.”

“At what?”

“Being..I don’t know. Comfortable.” Sawyer’s voice was getting drowsy. “Making people feel safe.”

Harrison didn’t know what to say to that, so he just kept running his fingers through Sawyer’s hair. They sat like that for a while with the silence stretching out between them, broken only by the movie and Sawyer’s occasional sniffling. 

Then Sawyer sighed. “This is not how I wanted to meet your family,” he said.

Harrison’s hand paused in Sawyer’s hair. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I wanted to make a good impression.” He gestured at the redness around his eyes and the slight puffiness of his nose. “This is not the vibe I was going for. Your parents are gonna think I’m some fragile..hih..”

“Hh’tschh!”

It was small and controlled but Harrison still felt the jerk of Sawyer’s body against his leg.

“Bless you,” Harrison said automatically. “Just one?”

Sawyer rolled his eyes. “Don’t tempt fate.”

Harrison grinned. “I’m just saying if you’re gonna impress my parents you should really commit to the performance.”

“I’d rather not become a family story before dessert.”

“My family will like you regardless.”

Sawyer laughed. “Obviously. I’m very lovable. But this isn’t helping. I look like I’ve been through something.”

“You have been through something,” Harrison pointed out. “You’ve been through a war with dust. And you survived.”

Sawyer smiled. He was quiet for a moment. Then softly, “Have you ever brought a guy home before?”

Harrison’s hand stilled again. 

“What do you think?” Harrison asked.

Sawyer’s lips quirked. “I think no. I think this is a first.”

“You’re the first,” Harrison confirmed. He let his fingers trail down to Sawyer’s neck. “My parents seemed more surprised that I was bringing someone to meet them than they were when I came out to them years ago.”

Sawyer blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. My Mom’s been asking when I was gonna “settle down” since I was 19. My Dad just wanted to make sure I was being safe.” Harrison felt the heat creep up his neck at the memory. “They were like, Okay, you’re gay, we love you, now why don’t you have a boyfriend? Are you working too hard? Are you lonely?”

Sawyer laughed. “That’s..that’s actually adorable. Your parents are worried about you being lonely.”

“They’re worried about me being a workaholic,” Harrison corrected. “Which, fair. But yeah. They’ve been waiting to meet you for a while.”

Sawyer went silent and his expression shifted. He sat up slowly and turned so he was facing Harrison. “Wait,” he said as his eyes narrowed. “They’ve known about me?”

Harrison’s face flushed. “A little.”

“A little?” Sawyer’s delighted voice was rising. “Harrison Whitaker, have you been talking about me to your parents?”

“Shut up,” Harrison mumbled. His ears were burning now.

“You have! You’ve been telling Mommy and Daddy about your little boyfriend-”

“No,” Harrison interrupted. “You’re..we’re-”

“We’re what?” Sawyer was grinning now in the face of Harrison’s embarrassment. “We’re just guys? Just pals? Just dudes who make out and talk about our feelings and drive to family cabins together?”

Harrison knew Sawyer was gonna keep going. He was going to drag this out and make it a whole thing and tease him until Harrison was nothing but a puddle of humiliation. So he did the only thing he could think of to shut him up. He leaned in and kissed him.

Sawyer made a surprised noise against his mouth and then he was kissing back. His hands tightened in Harrison’s shirt. Sawyer shifted closer and Harrison let out a breath that sounded far too needy.

“Well played,” Sawyer breathed. “Very well played.”

Then he was kissing Harrison deeper this time. Harrison groaned as his hands found Sawyer’s waist and he pulled him closer. It had been too long since they’d been alone like this without roommates or teammates or the threat of someone walking in. Since the alumni weekend, really. And that had been frantic, desperate reunion sex. This was different. 

Harrison ran his fingers through Sawyer’s and Sawyer tilted his head back before turning his head sharply. He buried his face in Harrison’s shoulder and sneezed.

“Hh’NGKXT’tshh! Hhh’eshh’ngh! Hih..t’shhIEW!”

Harrison felt the wet explosions muffled against his shirt. When it finally stopped, Sawyer sniffled. “Ugh,” he groaned. “Sorry.” He rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand as his nostrils still flared slightly with irritation.

“Don’t be,” Harrison said. He checked the clock on the wall. “But we should get to bed. I think my family’s gonna be here early tomorrow.”

Sawyer groaned. “Right.” His breath was hot on Harrison’s neck. “But I think I still have some energy left before bed.”

Harrison smiled and kissed his forehead.

“Get some sleep anyway,” he murmured. “Tomorrow you’re finally going to meet the people who’ve been asking about you for months.”

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Chapter 16 is: Here

[north-east-sf]

The Discipline of Falling Apart | Ch 14

A slow-burn enemies to lovers story following my college OC's Sawyer Henderson and Harrison Whitaker. Word Count: 2,732

Chapter 1 is: Here | Chapter 2 is: Here | Chapter 3 is: Here | Chapter 4 is: Here | Chapter 5 is: Here | Chapter 6 is: Here | Chapter 7 is: Here | Chapter 8 is: Here | Chapter 9 is: Here (nsfw) | Chapter 10 is: Here | Chapter 11 is: Here | Chapter 12 is: Here | Chapter 13 is: Here

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Chapter 14 - Sawyer’s POV

The sunlight was already blasting through the gap in the hotel curtains when Sawyer blinked awake. The room was quiet except for the sound of running water from the shower. Sawyer squinted at the clock on the nightstand. 6:30AM 

He laughed under his breath. Unreal. Even sick, Harrison Whitaker still woke up before everyone else doing whatever disciplined psycho routine he’d programmed into his DNA. Sawyer had spent the last year convincing himself he’d finally gotten his act together by waking up for 8AM classes and hitting the gym. But here was Harrison sick as a dog and still outperforming him.

The shower cut off and Sawyer heard the explosive sound of a sneeze ricocheting off the bathroom tiles.

“Hah-SSSHHH!” Then another wetter and more congested, “Huh-CHOOO! Hih..Hih-KSHHH!”

Sawyer winced sympathetically. The bathroom door cracked open and Harrison emerged. 

Jesus 

Harrison had always been built but a year in the NFL had turned him into a damn statue. His shoulders were broader and his waist was leaner. There wasn’t an ounce of softness left anywhere on him. He was drying his hair with a white towel and the motion made his muscles flex. Water ran down his body before disappearing into the towel around his hips.

Sawyer tried to actively not stare.

“Hey.” Harrison’s voice was rough with congestion. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Sawyer responded. “I just wake up when I sense someone being annoyingly productive.”

Harrison snorted, which immediately turned into a deep rattling cough that doubled him over. Sawyer sat up and grabbed his shoulder. “Dude you’re supposed to be resting.”

Harrison wiped his nose with the back of his hand which was gross and also weirdly endearing. “Couldn’t sleep. Steam helps…sometimes.” He sniffled wetly and Sawyer watched his nostrils flare. They looked fragile as if the slightest inhale would send them into another fit. “Shit. Hang on-”

He rotated toward the wall and buried his face in the crook of his elbow. “Hah’KSSHH! Hih’NGKXT! Haaaa-CHOOO!”

The force of them bent him forward with his towel slipping dangerously low and Sawyer had to force himself to focus on the task at hand. He grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand and the bottle of cold medicine he’d picked up at the pharmacy downstairs last night after they’d stumbled back from the event. 

He held them out. “Here. Take this. And blow your nose before your head explodes.”

Harrison tossed the pills back and Sawyer watched his throat work as he swallowed. “You need to get back in bed,” Sawyer urged.

“In a minute.” Harrison scrubbed at his face. “Need to...hh..Hah’CHOOOO!” 

Sawyer felt the vibration of it against his own chest where their shoulders touched. He wrapped an arm around Harrison and noticed the hard muscle of his back as he climbed back into bed. “Damn. I think the whole hotel floor heard that one.”

Harrison rolled his eyes and gave Sawyer a playful shove. “Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

Harrison actually laughed which grew into another coughing fit. When it passed, Harrison rolled onto his back with one arm thrown over his eyes. They lay there for a moment with the curtains doing a shit job of blocking out the morning light. 

“I missed this,” Harrison said quietly. 

“I missed it too.”

Harrison’s nose was stuffy and Sawyer could hear the whistling sound of his congested breathing. 

“So,” Harrison began tentatively after a beat. “What the hell have you been up to for a year?”

Sawyer snorted. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I asked first.”

Sawyer could feel Harrison watching him with that intense focus that used to make him nervous.

“I got my shit together. Turns out I’m not actually stupid,” Sawyer said with a self-deprecating smile. “Just..unmotivated. I changed my major to Political Science and got involved in the Student Alumni Association.” He smirked. “Which by the way, is how I ended up on that stage yesterday. Dave practically begged me to speak because they needed someone with a compelling redemption arc or whatever.”

“Redemption arc,” Harrison repeated as he smiled slightly.

“Shut up.” But Sawyer was smiling too. “I’ve got a 3.8 now. And I’m actually studying for the LSAT to get into law school. Like, for real this time, not just logic puzzles when I’m bored.”

Harrison’s eyebrows went up. “Law school? That’s huge, Sawyer. That’s-”

“Terrifying?” Sawyer supplied.

“I was going to say great,” Harrison countered. “Based on the fact that you somehow talked your way out of getting arrested half a dozen times in college. You’ll be a good lawyer.”

Sawyer blushed. “I don’t know about that. Maybe if I get in somewhere decent.” He raised his eyebrows playfully at Harrison. “Chicago would be nice.”

Harrison lifted his head. “Yeah?”

“Don’t get excited. Northwestern probably isn’t taking my dumb ass.” He shifted his weight, suddenly needing to move. “But yeah, I’ve been..I don’t know. I’ve been good I guess.” He paused. “I thought about you though,” he admitted. “I’d write these long texts and then delete them because I didn’t know what I was supposed to say.”

Harrison squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m the one who pushed you away. I thought...” Sawyer sighed. “Either way, it didn’t exactly work out great.”

“What about you?” Sawyer continued after a beat. “Is the NFL everything you dreamed of?”

Harrison was quiet for a long moment as he stared at the ceiling. “It’s everything and nothing like I thought it would be.”

“How so?”

Harrison considered the question. “It’s lonely,” he finally admitted. “I mean, it’s not all bad. The game itself is incredible.” His face lit up briefly. “I love playing at this level. When I’m actually on the field everything makes sense. I’ve wanted this my whole life.”

He paused. “But off the field is a different story. I have teammates but they’re not..we’re not really close.” 

“What about Eliza?”

Harrison’s expression softened. “Eliza is..she’s become a real friend. Probably my only one I’ve met this past year honestly.” He shook his head. “She’s way smarter than people give her credit for. She’d call me after some awful publicity event and we’d spend an hour talking shit about our agents.” 

He met Sawyer’s gaze. “But every time I’d smile for a camera, I’d think about you. About how you’d probably make fun of me and call me a golden boy robot or some shit.” A sad smile tugged at his lips. “And I’d wish you were there to say it.”

Sawyer laughed but it came out rough. “I probably would’ve.”

They lay there for a while simply breathing. Finally, Sawyer forced himself to ask the question that had been sitting between them since last night.

“So, where do we go from here?” 

Harrison shifted. “I don’t-” He stopped as his breath hitched suddenly. His hand flew up to pinch his nose. “Hh’kgnn—NGKKTSHH’OO!”

Sawyer winced as he watched Harrison’s shoulders shake with the force of it. “Bless you,” he murmured. Harrison fumbled for the tissue box with a trembling hand and blew his nose. “My bad,” he mumbled. “What were you saying?”

“Where do we go from here,” Sawyer repeated.

Harrison sighed. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out since I saw your name on the agenda.” He rubbed at his nose absently. “Our schedules are going to be insane. I’m traveling most of the year and you’re going to be buried in school work.”

“Not exactly a recipe for success,” Sawyer murmured. 

“But,” Harrison continued, “I don’t fucking care.” 

Sawyer blinked. “What?”

Harrison’s eyes looked intense despite his sickness. “I’m not sure what any of this looks like.” He lifted the water bottle on the nightstand and took a sip. “I just know that last year without you sucked. And I’m not doing it again. We’ll figure it out. Not sure how, but we will.” His nose twitched and he sniffled before continuing. “I need to end the whole fake relationship thing with Eliza. She’s cool and I don’t want to screw her over, but..I can’t do another year of this. Especially not now.”

“How are you going to handle that?” Sawyer asked carefully. “The ending it part?”

Harrison shrugged but there was tension in his shoulders. “I’ll talk to her first. Then..” He paused as his nose fluttered sharply. “Then I’ll tell my agent we’re done. I’m not gonna do some big coming out press conference or anything. I mean, I-” 

His breath hitched and his whole body tensed with the effort of holding it back. “I’m...hh...I…”

“Hey.” Sawyer steadied his shoulder. “Breathe, man.”

But Harrison shook his head stubbornly as his nostrils flared wildly. “I...I don’t want them turning you into some...some...hah’CHOO! Huh’KSSHHOOO!”

Sawyer watched him and felt that familiar protective surge he always felt when Harrison was vulnerable. “Bless you. You’re gonna give yourself a hernia if you keep trying to hold them back like that.”

“I’m just saying,” Harrison rasped as he wiped at his running nose, “I’m not gonna hide you. But I also don’t want the public involved in my love life again.” He watched Sawyer brush the damp hair away from his forehead. “They turned my fake relationship with Eliza into a circus. There were people online convinced they could tell we’d had a fight because I wasn’t smiling enough. I hated that. I don’t want them doing that to you.”

“You mean the Who is Harrison Whitaker’s mystery man hype that would happen?”

“Yeah.” His voice came out strained and nasally. “I don’t want them digging into your personal life.”

“So what are you saying?” Sawyer asked quietly as Harrison sniffled. 

Harrison cupped Sawyer’s cheek. “I’m saying I'm done letting fear run my life. My family knows I’m gay. They’ve known for a while and love me anyway.” His thumb brushed across Sawyer's cheekbone. “I might tell some teammates if I ever actually become friends with any of them. And maybe someday I’ll stand at a podium and tell the whole world.”

He took a shaky breath. “But right now? If the media sees us together and wants to speculate, let them. If they ask about my personal life, I’ll say I’m seeing someone. And if they push..” A small defiant smile crossed his face. “I’ll tell them it’s none of their damn business.”

“That’s..yeah,” Sawyer said. “That’s your call. You do what you gotta do. You don’t owe anybody. If you want to tell people, tell them. If you don’t, don’t.” 

Sawyer then chuckled. “Plus let’s be real. I’m going to be so buried in law school shit, I wouldn’t have time to be your trophy boyfriend anyway. I can’t fly to LA for red carpet events or whatever.”

Harrison laughed. “You’d be a terrible trophy boyfriend.”

“The worst,” Sawyer confirmed as he grinned. “I’d probably show up to your games in sweatpants. I’d make fun of your opponents online and try to fight sports reporters who criticized your throwing.”

“Good,” Harrison said. “I don’t want a trophy anyways.” He settled back down. “You’d really be okay with this? The long distance and craziness?”

“I’ve spent a year without you,” Sawyer replied quietly. His fingers threaded through Harrison’s damp hair. “It fucking sucked, if I’m being honest. So yeah, I’m in. I’ll take whatever stupid arrangement we gotta do.”

Harrison raised his eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“But I’m not-” Sawyer paused as he searched for the words. “I can’t fly to every game like some WAG.”

Harrison huffed. “You think I want you sitting in some hotel room waiting for me? That’s depressing.”

“Good. Because I’d be bad at it.” 

Harrison propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Sawyer with an intensity that made his breath catch. “And you’re not allowed to decide what’s best for me.” His green eyes locked onto Sawyer’s. “If you get in your head and think you’re protecting me by ghosting, I will personally fly to wherever you are and drag your ass back.”

Despite everything Sawyer laughed. “Okay. No more of that shit. I promise.” He took a shaky breath and tried to organize the chaos in his head into something coherent. “Okay. So we need ground rules or something, right? Some kind of plan?”

Harrison raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you do plans?”

“Since I’m trying to not fuck this up again.” Sawyer settled against Harrison. “Seriously. We need to actually talk about this. What does this look like?”

Harrison considered it. “We check in regularly. Not just when it’s convenient but actually regularly. Calls, texts, FaceTime, whatever.”

Sawyer nodded. “What else?”

“We’re not trying to be the same person,” Harrison continued. His voice was getting more congested but he pushed through. “You do your law school thing and I do football. We support each other but we’re not...we’re not losing ourselves in this.”

“Right. Because that’s healthy and mature.” Sawyer managed a smile. “Look at us being adults.”

“Scary,” Harrison joked. 

“And you’re paying for the flights Mr. NFL Money,” Sawyer added. “I’ll pay for…coffee?”

Harrison gave a sniff. “You’re a Henderson. I think you can handle coffee.”

“Fair point.” Sawyer eased closer until his shoulder rested against Harrison’s. “Shit. Are we actually doing this?”

“We’re doing this,” Harrison confirmed. “Messy and stupid.”

“Messy and stupid,” Sawyer repeated. “Just my specialty.”

Harrison suddenly sighed and looked away. “You know, you’re probably gonna catch this. And it’s my fault for kissing you and letting you stay here.”

Sawyer cut him off. “Stop. I’m not the same guy I was a year ago, remember? Stronger immune system now. I’m basically a superhero.”

Harrison gave him a look. “A superhero who’s face I almost sneezed directly into before we went to sleep.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t great,” Sawyer admitted. “But also not my problem anymore. I’m immune to your germs now.”

“That’s not how immunity works.”

“I don’t care.” Sawyer shifted deliberately closer. 

Harrison sniffled but this time he didn’t try to create distance. Instead, he reached over and pulled Sawyer closer. “Then let’s not waste any more time.” He leaned in slowly, giving Sawyer time to pull away if he wanted. But Sawyer met him halfway and pressed their lips together in a kiss. When they broke apart, Harrison’s nostrils were already flaring desperately again.

“Seriously?” Sawyer asked.

“Can’t...help...hih…” Harrison turned and buried his face in Sawyer’s shoulder. “Hah’KSSHH! Hh’NGKXT! HISSSHHH-OOOO!”

The sneezes came in rapid succession and each one shook his whole body. Sawyer noticed the way Harrison’s breathing was starting to sound labored. “Hey. Real talk for a second.” He waited until Harrison recovered. “You’ve been sneezing a lot since we woke up. Like way more than you normally do. And they sound really congested.”

Harrison waved a dismissive hand. “It’s just-”

“No seriously.” Sawyer’s concern overrode his usual casual tone. “Your sinus infection isn’t getting better is it? You need to go back to the doctor,” he said firmly. “This sounds like it’s actually getting worse.”

Harrison closed his eyes. “I don’t have time for a doctor’s visit.”

“I don’t care what you have,” Sawyer interrupted. “If you don’t actually take care of this you’re gonna end up with something worse, and then you’ll miss practice.”

A smile tugged at Harrison’s lips. “Are you actually using my own logic against me?”

“Yes,” Sawyer said without apology. “Because you’re the one who always gives lectures about taking care of your body. Well, now your body is screaming that it needs rest.” He softened his tone slightly. “I’m worried about you, okay? You sound like shit. Promise me you’ll call your doctor first thing tomorrow.”

Harrison was quiet for a long moment. “Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll call them.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Since when are you the responsible one?” he asked affectionately. 

Sawyer shrugged. “Since you’ve become patient zero,” he joked.

Harrison groaned into his shoulder. “I’m a disgusting disaster,” he mumbled into the fabric of Sawyer’s shirt.

“You really are,” Sawyer agreed cheerfully as he kissed Harrison’s forehead. “But you’re my disgusting disaster now. So you’re stuck with me.”

“Stuck with you,” Harrison repeated as a small smile formed despite his misery. The weight of his body was warm and heavy against Sawyer's side. “I can live with that.”

────────────

Chapter 15 is: Here

Note: One thing I wanted to touch on is Harrison’s decision to keep his relationship private. For him it isn’t about going back into the closet or being ashamed of who he is. He’s not afraid of being seen with Sawyer and if people start putting the pieces together he’s at a point where he’s okay with that. What changed for him this past year was realizing how much he hated watching his public (although fake) relationship become entertainment for strangers. He doesn’t want that for something that’s actually real. And Harrison is generally a pretty private person anyways.

His journey with coming out isn’t over but for the first time it’s becoming something he’s doing on his own terms instead of out of fear. I don’t think he'll have all the answers right away at 23. Like most people he’ll keep growing into himself as he gets older.

[north-east-sf]

Writing snz sickfic: 🔥🥰💗

Being sick in real life: this is actually bullshit

[north-east-sf]

The Discipline of Falling Apart | Ch 13

A slow-burn enemies to lovers story following my college OC's Sawyer Henderson and Harrison Whitaker. Word Count: 4,631

Chapter 1 is: Here | Chapter 2 is: Here | Chapter 3 is: Here | Chapter 4 is: Here | Chapter 5 is: Here | Chapter 6 is: Here | Chapter 7 is: Here | Chapter 8 is: Here | Chapter 9 is: Here (nsfw) | Chapter 10 is: Here | Chapter 11 is: Here | Chapter 12 is: Here

─────────────

Chapter 13 - Harrison’s POV

Harrison Whitaker had spent the whole off-season doing literally anything to keep himself distracted. And so far, it was going great.

They’d lost in the playoffs in December with a missed field goal that had sent them home for the year. Now it was February and he was supposed to be recovering but he wasn’t. If a sponsor wanted him in New York for a day, he went and flew back late. If Eliza had an event, he attended. He felt like a hamster on a wheel sprinting his ass off and getting nowhere. But it was better than sitting alone in his penthouse and staring at the life he had supposedly always wanted.

Speaking of Eliza, everyone was having an absolute field day with their romance. There were fan pages on social media now. Her agent had called it a “brand defining move,” and sure enough the auditions had started rolling in. She’d landed a small but significant role in a network drama. Harrison liked her more than he thought he would which made things harder. It would’ve been easier if she was a jerk. But she wasn’t. Somewhere between the staged outings, Harrison and Eliza became actual friends. 

One night after an event, they had gotten to talking and she’d admitted she didn’t really understand sex or attraction the way everyone else seemed to. Harrison had surprised himself by telling her the truth about his own sexuality too. He also talked a little about Sawyer. Eliza hadn’t judged him. She also didn’t press for details which he appreciated. She just nodded knowingly. 

“So he’s the one that got away?”

“Something like that,” he murmured.

***

Harrison’s hectic lifestyle all caught up to him in March.

It didn’t start with a bang but with a slow creep. A scratch in the back of his throat he blamed on the dry air on a flight to LA. 

He woke up the next day feeling like death. His head was stuffed with so much pressure he felt like his eyeballs might pop. He blew his nose with a pathetic wet sound that produced absolutely nothing. He sat with a towel over his head inhaling steam from a bowl of hot water like some kind of medieval peasant. It didn’t help. Every few minutes his breath would hitch in that way that meant he was about to sneeze. He turned away from the TV and buried his face in the towel before letting loose.

“Hah-SSSHHH! Huh-CHOOO! Hih-KSHHHOO!”

The force of them left him gasping. His face felt hot and he took his temperature: 101.2

Damn it. He had the flu. He told himself he’d sleep it off. For the next few days he didn’t leave his place. His nose ran constantly like a faucet he couldn’t turn off. His nostrils were raw and painful to touch. The sneezing came in fits that seemed to have no end. He’d be half asleep and feel that flutter building deep in his sinuses. He’d barely get the tissues to his face before they ripped out of him.

"HAAAA-SSSHHH! Huh-CHOOO! Hih-KSHHH! Hah-CHOOO!"

By the end of each fit he was breathless and dizzy with his nose running worse than before. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this sick.

Zane called twice with his voice full of fake concern that was really just anxiety about a missed media appearance.

“Whitaker, you sound awful,” Zane had said. “You sure you can’t just pop some DayQuil and show up for an hour? The fans love you.”

Harrison had just hung up. He couldn’t even form the words to tell his agent to fuck off.

The fever eventually broke but left a sinus infection that refused to leave. The antibiotics slowly helped. Too slowly for Harrison’s patience and definitely too slowly for his schedule.

“You need to rest,” the doctor told him. He tried but found he couldn’t. Being sick was the worst. It forced him to just sit there and his brain wouldn’t shut up. Mostly he hated that when he was too tired to distract himself he kept thinking about Sawyer. It had been almost a year since they last spoke. Sawyer should feel distant by now but he didn’t. Lying there in the dark, Harrison thought about the way Sawyer would make fun of Harrison’s sneezing while he was handing him tissues and how he would kiss Harrison’s forehead anyway.

One afternoon, Harrison sat in bed with his laptop open trying to answer emails. He had a mug of tea cooling on the nightstand and a box of tissues balanced beside his thigh. Every few minutes his nose would start to itch in that way that made the muscles around his nostrils twitch involuntarily and he’d have to pause and wait to see if it would pass or if he was about to sneeze again. He pressed a knuckle under his nose and squinted at a message from his agent in his inbox.

Alumni Weekend Final Agenda

Harrison stared at the words. Right…that. His alma mater had reached out ages ago about bringing him back for an alumni event and at the time it had seemed harmless enough. He’d agreed without thinking as a vague “sure sounds good” text while he was in the middle of training camp. He’d totally forgotten. He clicked the PDF attachment and read through the usual boring itinerary when his eyes landed on the section for the student speaker program.

Student Keynote Speaker: Sawyer Henderson

Harrison sat up too quickly.

What the fuck?!

Since when was Sawyer in the Student Alumni Association?! 

Since when did Sawyer give speeches??

The Sawyer he remembered could command a room without trying but he would rather light himself on fire than get up in front of a crowd and talk about leadership and resilience. Sawyer had been charming when he wanted something and unless there was free alcohol or his father breathing down his neck, Sawyer usually found a way out of it.

Harrison shut the laptop then opened it again thirty seconds later. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. 

Except Sawyer was literally on the fucking agenda as a speaker.

“Shit,” he muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. He was sick as a dog. And in a week he would be in the same room as Sawyer. 

He couldn’t think of a single worse thing.

****

A week should have been enough time to recover, especially after antibiotics but Harrison seemed determined to sabotage himself. He threw himself into his training with an almost manic intensity. He barely slept. His mind raced with a dozen different scenarios of how the reunion could go. Would Sawyer hate him? Would he have moved on? 

By the time alumni weekend approached, the congestion clung stubbornly in the back of his nose no matter how many hot showers he took. 

“You sound like hell,” Zane told him over the phone. His voice was a mix of concern and annoyance. “This alumni thing is important. Good PR.”

“I’m fine,” Harrison lied.

He wasn’t fine. He spent Friday night in his hotel room near campus staring at the ceiling trying to will his body to heal itself. It didn’t work. He was a wreck and somehow no closer to figuring out what he was supposed to say to Sawyer when he saw him.

***

The morning of the keynote he felt exactly the same. He tried to breathe through his nose and got absolutely nothing.

Shit.

He rolled onto his side and checked his phone. 7:12AM. The keynote started at 10AM. Three hours to somehow become a functional human being.

He reached for the tissue box on the nightstand already half-empty from the night before and barely got a handful to his face before the tickle hit. His nostrils flared and his breath hitched in that desperate uncontrollable way.

“Hah..”

He buried his face in the tissues just in time.

“Hah-SSSHHHHOOO! Huh-CHOOO! Hih-KSHHHOOO!”

The sneezes were wet and miserable. He sneezed and sneezed into the wad of tissues. “huh-HISSSHHH! HAah-CHOOOO!”

He sat there feeling pathetic. A starting quarterback in the NFL and here he was currently being held hostage by his own sinuses. He got dressed anyway. He tucked a handkerchief into his breast pocket and grabbed another handful of tissues to shove into his jacket pocket.

The SUV was waiting downstairs. Harrison walked toward it with his sunglasses on even though it was overcast. Eliza was already in the back seat scrolling through her phone. She glanced up when he slid in beside her and her expression immediately shifted to concern.

“You look terrible.”

“Thangks,” Harrison said as he settled into the seat. “I feel like sobeone ran mbe over with a truck. Then backed up and did it agaid.”

“I thought you were getting better.”

“I thought so too.” He sighed. “Ad now I have to give a speech id three hours ad I sound like I’b dyig.”

“You’ll get through it,” she reassured. “Just..maybe blow your nose first.”

He managed a weak smile at that. He pressed his knuckle under his nose and prayed he could make it through the day without humiliating himself.

The SUV pulled up to the athletic center and immediately Harrison wanted to sink through the floor. There was a small crowd already waiting. Dave greeted them and guided them toward a side hallway. “We’ll get you situated in the green room first then bring you out for welcome remarks.”

“Thagks. Thad sounds good,” Harrison said. His voice sounded horribly congested even to him.

Dave glanced over with polite concern. “Still fighting that cold?”

“Little bit.”

The auditorium was packed. Harrison could hear the murmur of the crowd from backstage and his heart started pounding in a way it hadn’t during games in years. This was worse than the NFL. This was personal. These were people who’d known him before everything. 

And somewhere in the mix Sawyer would be here. He tried not to think about that.

They walked out onto the stage. The lights were bright and Harrison felt sweat break out on his forehead immediately.  The welcome remarks began exactly the way welcome remarks always began. He could feel a tickle starting in his sinuses and he discreetly pressed the sleeve of his jacket against his nose. He sniffed a wet congested sound that felt way too loud in the quiet auditorium. A flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. 

The moderator made a joke about how nobody in the room needed an introduction to Harrison Whitaker which got a laugh. The applause swelled when he reached the podium.

“Thangk you,” he said and immediately heard how congested he sounded.

Fantastic. A few people smiled sympathetically. Harrison cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’b still gettig over a cold so if I sound like I’b doig a bad ibpressiod of byself that’s why.”

He talked about arriving on campus as a kid full of dreams. He talked about learning discipline from teammates and coaches and about leadership. People nodded at the right parts.

He heard himself say, “The biggest thing this place taught me is that success means staying true to who you are.” 

And for a second Harrison almost lost his place. Because he didn’t believe it. 

Not really. Maybe he had once. But now he was living his whole life by carefully leaving shit out. He was fake dating a woman he liked but was not romantically in love with. He was standing in front of students and telling them to stay true to themselves while he had spent the better part of a year pretending.

As he continued, he could feel his nose starting to run again. It was a constant drip that he couldn’t stop. He sniffled into the microphone. The sound echoed through the auditorium and he wanted to die. 

Towards the end he felt it. That dreaded itch. A sneeze was gathering and was demanding to be let out. His eyes started to water and his nostrils flared involuntarily. He tried to keep talking but his breath was hitching and he knew that he was about to sneeze in front of hundreds of people. 

“Excuse mbe,” he choked out. He turned sharply away and buried his face in the crook of his arm just in time.

“Huh-NGSHH! HAah-sshhOO! HET-CHOOO!”

The loud sneezes exploded out of him uncontrollably. The microphone picked up the first one and amplified it through the room like a gunshot. Harrison bent forward as the fit continued and each sneeze shook his whole body.

“HAAAA-SSSHHHH! Huh-CHOOO!”

Harrison straightened up and turned back to the podium. “Sorry,” he rasped.

“Bless you!” a voice called out from the middle of the rows. It was followed by some sympathetic chuckles. Harrison fumbled for the water bottle on the podium and took a sip to buy himself time as he tried to remember where he was in the speech. He had maybe three minutes left in the talk. He powered through and wrapped it up as fast as he could without being completely rude.

The applause was enthusiastic. Of course it was. He was Harrison Whitaker. They would have applauded if he’d read the phone book. He walked back to his seat and tried to maintain some semblance of dignity. The moderator took over and launched into the Q&A portion. Harrison took the opportunity to pull out his handkerchief and quietly blow his nose. The sound was thoroughly disgusting but he didn’t care anymore. He was beyond caring. He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket and tried to focus on the questions being asked.

The Q&A eventually ended and lunch began. Harrison picked at a salad he couldn’t taste and tried to make small talk through his congestion. His nose was still running and he had to excuse himself twice to blow his nose in the bathroom. Each time he came back to the table feeling more exhausted.

After lunch, the program resumed. “And now,” Dave said, “Our Student Leadership Speaker. This young man has shown remarkable growth during his time here, and we’re proud to have him representing the student body.”

Harrison felt his entire body go still.

“Please join me in welcoming Sawyer Henderson.”

Applause filled the room and then Sawyer walked onto the stage. For one stupid second, Harrison’s mind refused to make the image fit.

Because it was Sawyer, but not exactly the Sawyer he had been carrying around in memory. That Sawyer was all sharp edges and lazy charm, a little reckless and a little sick at a party. This Sawyer who walked to the podium now seemed steadier. His hair still fell slightly into his eyes and he still had that unfairly easy way of moving. But he wore a dark suit that actually fit him and he looked older.

Sawyer set a few notes on the podium then glanced at the audience and smiled. Not the one he used when he wanted to get away with something. This one was smaller and a little bit nervous.

“Thanks Dave,” Sawyer began. His voice was clear and strong and nothing like the congested mess Harrison’s had been. “When I was asked to give this speech I spent about three weeks trying to figure out if there had been a mistake.”

The room laughed. 

“Last year, I was not the person people would’ve picked to talk about leadership. Honestly there were semesters where I wasn’t sure I’d make it through finals without some kind of divine intervention.”

More laughter and Sawyer smiled. Harrison watched as his own misery was momentarily forgotten. He remembered those semesters. He remembered the frantic 3AM texts from Sawyer asking for lecture notes he’d never bothered to take himself.

“For a long time I thought having no plan was the same thing as freedom. I’d tell people I was keeping my options open, which sounded a lot better than saying I was avoiding making decisions. And honestly that worked for a while.” He paused. “Until it didn’t.”

He glanced down at his notes before continuing.

“The biggest changes in my life happened because I lost people. And when that happens, you either deal with it or you don’t. I spent a while not dealing with it.”

The room had gone quieter. Sawyer kept his eyes on the audience but there was something careful in his expression now…something honest enough that Harrison almost wanted to look away.

“I wasted alot of time waiting to magically become a different person,” Sawyer said. He smiled. “Turns out that is not how it works.”

A few people chuckled softly.

“So I changed my major. I got involved on campus and started actually showing up to things. And somewhere along the way I realized I liked being somebody people could count on.”

Sawyer rested his hands on either side of the podium.

“I still don’t know exactly where my life is headed. But I’ve learned that leadership is not always being the loudest person in the room or the person with the cleanest plan. Sometimes it is just being honest enough to admit that something needs to change.”

The room was completely still. Sawyer gazed out over the audience and his voice softened slightly. “Anyway, if you’re sitting there feeling like everyone else has a plan and you don’t, I can promise you that’s not true. Pick a direction you’re proud of and keep going. Lead your own path. Eventually you’ll look back and realize you’ve actually gone somewhere.”

The applause started slowly then grew. Sawyer stepped back from the podium and looked almost embarrassed by the reaction. He nodded and smiled and Harrison had the sudden impossible urge to stand up and leave before something broke open in his chest right there on stage.

Because Sawyer stood in front of a room looking fully comfortable in his own skin while Harrison sat 10ft away feeling like a fraud.

Harrison watched Sawyer walk off stage and shake hands with Dave and accept congratulations from students who approached him. He seemed happy. Not the frantic desperate happy of college parties but something quieter and real.

Sawyer turned and his eyes finally swept across the seated panel to Harrison. For one second he looked at Harrison like he was seeing a ghost. Then Sawyer blinked and it was gone. He straightened and smoothed his jacket but his hand was shaking. Harrison saw the tremor in his fingers as he reached out to shake someone else’s hand. 

Harrison was left staring at Sawyer’s retreating back with his heart hammering so loud he was sure the microphone was picking it up.

***

The event dragged on in the way that only university events could. Harrison watched Sawyer work the room. He moved through groups of alumni and students with an ease that Harrison recognized from college but it was different now. It looked like he actually wanted to be there. He laughed at something an old professor said and the sound carried across the room bright and genuine. 

Harrison took a sip of water. The mild fever he’d been fighting all morning was finally winning. 

Sawyer eventually walked away from the group and slowly drifted toward the back end of the room. Harrison watched him pause and then push through the glass doors and disappear out on the balcony.

Harrison stood there for a full minute arguing with himself. He should stay inside. He should definitely not follow Sawyer Henderson out into the cold like some kind of pathetic ex-boyfriend.

He followed him.

The balcony was empty and hidden from view. Sawyer stood at the railing overlooking the quad. His jacket was gone and his sleeves were rolled to his forearms. 

Sawyer turned at the sound of the door and for a moment neither of them said anything. His face went carefully blank and polite.

“Hey,” Harrison said. His voice came out rough.

“Hey,” Sawyer replied. He turned back to the railing. “Good speech.”

“You too.” Harrison stepped up beside him and left careful space between them. “That was..it was really good.”

“Thanks.”

They stood there in silence. The wind picked up and Harrison shivered but he didn’t move. He was looking at Sawyer’s profile: the way his hair fell across his forehead and the small freckle above his eyebrow that Harrison had kissed a dozen times back when he was allowed to do that. He remembered how it felt to fall asleep next to him. Now they were standing here like complete strangers. 

Harrison opened his mouth to say something…anything, when he felt a tickle that started deep in his sinuses and spread.

Fuck.

He fumbled for his breast pocket and pulled out the handkerchief just as his breath started to hitch. He turned away from Sawyer just as the sneezes ripped out of him.

“Heh-CHOO! Huh-NGSHH!..huh-HISSSHHH!”

When he straightened, his eyes were watering and his nose was running freely. He had no choice but to give his nose a good loud blow. 

Sawyer was wincing. “Bless you,” he murmured quietly. “You sound awful.”

“Thanks,” Harrison croaked as he stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket. He sniffled and cringed at the sound.

“You should be in bed,” Sawyer continued. “Not..whatever this is.”

“You sound like Eliza,” Harrison mumbled and immediately wanted to punch himself in the face.

Sawyer’s expression changed. Something crossed his face….hurt maybe or resignation and he turned away. 

“She seems nice,” he said neutrally.

Harrison didn’t respond. The mention of Eliza sat uncomfortably between them. 

After a tense pause Sawyer spoke again. “You played the whole thing perfectly didn’t you? Looks like you got everything you wanted.”

The words were offhand and casual like he didn’t care, but they hit Harrison like he’d been slapped and his temper flared. He was sick and exhausted and now here was Sawyer being a smartass about his life. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Harrison asked sharper than he intended.

Sawyer turned to look at him. “Come on Harrison.” He gestured vaguely at him. “Look at you. You made it.”

Harrison laughed but it came out wrong. The sound was ugly and bitter and nothing like the polished one he used for interviews. “Made it? Oh yeah. That must be why I’m so fucking happy all the time.”

Sawyer’s eyes widened slightly. Harrison could see he hadn’t expected that answer.

“Don’t stand here,” Harrison continued, “And make snarky comments about how I’m living a life you chose to leave. You were the one that pushed me away! You said -”

“I said you were better off without me,” Sawyer finished. The brief flash of surprise was replaced by anger. “Because look at you!” he snapped. “You went first round! You had an insane rookie year! Everyone wants to be you! You have it all.”

“I don’t!” Harrison exclaimed and his voice cracked on the words. He felt everything he’d been holding in for a year starting to collapse. He tried to swallow it down like he always did but his body was too sick and tired of pretending. “I don’t have it all.” His voice was breaking. “It’s empty. It’s all empty Sawyer. I thought if I finally got here, it would actually be enough but I don’t care about any of it.”

To his humiliation he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Years probably. He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve but they kept coming and his nose was running and mixing with the tears. He was a complete disaster.

Sawyer was staring at him with mouth slightly open like he’d never seen Harrison before. “I...I didn’t-”

“You want to know what I think about when I’m alone?” Harrison continued. “I think about you. I think about you every fucking day and I’m so tired of pretending I don’t.” Harrison wiped his nose again. “I miss you,” he choked out. “I miss you so fucking much.”

Sawyer looked genuinely blindsided. The anger was gone now and Harrison thought for a second that he was going to walk away and leave Harrison standing there like an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” Harrison mumbled. He tried to pull himself together and was failing completely. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have..I’m not thinking straight..” 

But then Sawyer swore a string of words Harrison barely caught and turned back. “You can’t just..” he started then stopped. “You can’t just say that! You can’t just show up here after a year and say you miss me when you’re pretending to date her.”

“I..I know,” Harrison stammered. “But it’s complicated. She’s my friend. She’s…we’re not..she knows I’m gay. She knows about you.” Harrison broke off coughing. When he straightened, Sawyer was closer. “There’s no one else. There’s never been anyone else.”

Sawyer’s features crumpled. “I thought..I thought you were happy. How the hell was I supposed to know? You looked happy.” He closed his eyes. “I miss you too,” he said finally as his voice cracked. “Every day. I see you on TV and I want to call you, but I thought..I thought you were better off.” 

Sawyer ran a hand through his hair before closing the distance between them in two steps. He hesitantly reached out and then slowly pulled Harrison into a hug.

Harrison stiffened then collapsed into it. Sawyer’s hands moved in slow soothing circles on his back. “I’m sorry,” Sawyer said softly. “I’m sorry Harrison. I didn’t know. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought..I didn’t know it was like this.”

Harrison shook his head. His face was still pressed against Sawyer’s shoulder. His nose was running and he was probably getting snot all over Sawyer’s jacket but he couldn’t make himself care. He felt Sawyer’s hand slide up to the back of his head as his fingers grabbed his hair. It was so familiar and exactly what he needed.

Sawyer cupped Harrison’s face in his hands. His hazel eyes were the same color they’d always been with flecks of gold in them. Harrison wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand then remembered the handkerchief. He pulled it out and blew his nose messily without dignity. Sawyer didn’t flinch. His thumbs made small comforting movements against Harrison’s collarbone.

Harrison lowered the handkerchief and stared at Sawyer properly for the first time. He was beautiful. He’d always been beautiful but now there was something grounded about it. Neither of them moved and Harrison could feel Sawyer’s hands still resting against his chest. 

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in and kissed him. 

It was desperate and messy and their noses bumped awkwardly but Sawyer kissed him back just as hard. 

“I’m gross,” Harrison mumbled when they broke apart

“I don’t fucking care.” Sawyer kissed him again harder this time and Harrison fell into it. When he pulled away, Sawyer was still watching him but his eyes had shifted from hungry to something softer. He pressed the back of his hand against Harrison’s forehead. “You’re burning up. Fuck Harrison. You’re actually feverish.”

The wind had picked up and Harrison realized he was freezing. The adrenaline of the fight and the kissing had masked how sick he actually was. Now his head was pounding and he felt dizzy. Sawyer grabbed Harrison’s hand and started pulling him toward the door. “We need to get you back to your hotel. You’re gonna get pneumonia standing out here.”

“Can you come with me?” Harrison asked. The question came out smaller and more vulnerable than he intended. 

Sawyer looked at him for a long moment. “Yes. I’m not leaving you again,” he replied firmly.

─────────────

Link to Chapter 14 is: Here

[north-east-sf]

Currently writing the reunion chapter. I’ve kept Harrison and Sawyer separated long enough! It’s time for emotional damage and sexual tension that explodes 🔥

(and of course some truly brutal sneezes 👀)

However I’ve been experiencing some major burnout so this chapter might take a little longer than normal so please bear with me! 😭

Thank you to everyone who’s been reading and commenting. I read every single one and they genuinely make my day 🥹💗

[north-east-sf]

The Discipline of Falling Apart | Ch 12

A slow-burn enemies to lovers story following my college OC's Sawyer Henderson and Harrison Whitaker. Word Count: 4,515

Chapter 1 is: Here | Chapter 2 is: Here | Chapter 3 is: Here | Chapter 4 is: Here | Chapter 5 is: Here | Chapter 6 is: Here | Chapter 7 is: Here | Chapter 8 is: Here | Chapter 9 is: Here (nsfw) | Chapter 10 is: Here | Chapter 11 is: Here

─────────────

Chapter 12 - Sawyer’s POV

The whole summer was becoming a thick humid blur. Sawyer woke up most days around 2PM. It wasn’t because he’d been out late (he hadn’t been out at all really) but because there wasn’t really any reason to get up sooner.

In May after finals he had packed up his shit from the frat house and driven the three hours home in a daze. That was two months ago. Now it was July and he couldn’t remember a single thing he’d done other than rot in his room. His phone buzzed occasionally with texts from friends he never answered. There were also notifications from sports apps because he’d made the dumb mistake of keeping Harrison’s name on his Google alerts. Harrison Whitaker: First round pick to the Chicago Bears. Harrison Whitaker signs 4-year $30 million dollar contract.

Sawyer had deleted social media off his phone in April. He couldn’t handle the draft night photos of Harrison in a suit holding up a jersey and grinning while cameras flashed around him.

I was right, he thought as he stared at the ceiling fan spinning lazy circles. Harrison had disappeared into the successful future while Sawyer stayed exactly where he was, treading water in his own life.

The knock on his door came at 11AM, which meant his mother had given up on him coming down for breakfast and was sending the help.

“Mr. Sawyer?” Their maid’s voice was muffled through the wood. “Your father wants you ready by 1PM for the club event.”

Sawyer pulled a pillow over his face. Right. The Fourth of July thing. The annual Henderson family appearance at the country club, complete with a golf tournament and fireworks.

“I’m up,” he called out. He pulled on a wrinkled polo shirt and didn’t bother with the blazer. Whatever. It was hot outside.

The country club was exactly as he remembered from every summer of his existence. It was only noon but he ordered a whiskey coke anyways.

“Sawyer!”

He turned. Three guys from his high school were walking over wearing the same uniform of boat shoes and sunglasses pushed up into their hair. Trevor, who’d gone to Duke and was already interning at his father’s hedge fund. Scott, who’d dropped out of UVA after a semester and was “taking time to travel.” And Matt, who’d never left home and was already engaged to a girl from their graduating class.

“Holy shit man you look like a ghost,” Trevor laughed. “College beating your ass?”

“You could say that,” Sawyer responded.

Matt leaned in. “You know that Whitaker kid from your school, right? The one who just got drafted?”

“Dude he’s going to be huge,” Trevor said. “My dad’s already talking about investing in his endorsements. Did you know him?”

“We were lab partners,” Sawyer responded vaguely. He took a long drink. “We weren’t really friends.” The lie tasted like shit but it was easier than trying to explain what Harrison had actually been to him. Something complicated and real before Sawyer had shoved him away because he was terrified of ruining his future.

They talked around him for a while and Sawyer nodded in the right places. He used to love these events. 

Or, he used to love being at these things with Grant. 

The best part was when they’d sneak away. He could almost feel it now: the cool night air on the 9th hole, the smell of the joint Grant would expertly roll and the way he’d ruffle Sawyer’s hair and call him a punk for coughing.

“Chill out,” Grant would laugh. “You’re gonna give yourself away.”

The memory hit him hard.

The sun started going down around 8PM which meant the fireworks were coming. The clubhouse was mostly empty with everyone outside on the lawn for the show. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand there and pretend it was fun. He wandered down the quieter hallway near the locker rooms where the walls were covered in framed photos and old club champions. He passed over them before he froze.

There was a photo hanging on the wall that Sawyer had forgotten existed. It was him and Grant standing on the 18th hole and holding a trophy from some tournament they’d won years ago. Grant was grinning at the camera like he owned the world and Sawyer was looking up at him and laughing.

Sawyer stared at it for a long time.

Grant would have hated this current version of Sawyer. The sleeping all day, avoidance and the way he’d let his father’s voice settle into his head. Grant had never taken shit from anyone, especially not their father. He’d been the golden child yeah, but he’d also been the one who snuck Sawyer out of the house when he was grounded and who covered for him and told him that their parents expectations were bullshit and he should do whatever he wanted.

If Grant were here right now, he’d probably make fun of Sawyer first. Something about moping around like a sad puppy over Harrison. “You’re pathetic,” he’d say, but he’d say it laughing. “Get up. Do something. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

And then he’d get serious. Because Grant had always known when to stop joking. He’d look Sawyer in the eye and say, “You’re better than this.”

Sawyer’s throat tightened. He remembered the LSAT practice quiz he’d shoved in his desk drawer back at school. The court case printouts he’d been reading at 3AM when he was bored and couldn’t sleep. The way he’d felt in that student conduct meeting…sharp and alive and actually good at something.

He thought about Harrison who had come from humble beginnings and was now living the dream. And here was Sawyer, a fucking Henderson with all the opportunities in the world letting the summer happen around him because he was too scared to admit that he wanted something different than the script that had been written for him.

The first firework went off outside, but Sawyer didn’t go out to watch. He stood there in the hallway and suddenly felt embarrassed by the person he’d become.

***

Sawyer was outside his father’s office. He had been pacing there the last 5 minutes and fidgeting with his watch. He glanced down at the cold weight of the Rolex Submariner on his wrist. It was undeniably beautiful. He hated it. It had shown up in a box a week after his high school graduation. His father was in Tokyo closing a merger and his mom was in Bali on a “spiritual journey” that was really just a 6 month bender to avoid the first anniversary of her son’s death. The note card had his father’s slanted script: Happy Graduation - Dad. That was it. No phone call or presence. Just a $50k apology for being absent.

Sometimes he felt like an ungrateful ass. He knew kids who had nothing, who dealt with loss and neglect without getting shiny toys to soften the blow. Maybe he should just be thankful. But the watch felt less like a gift and more like a price tag for his grief.

His father was pouring a scotch in the study when Sawyer finally walked in. The house was quiet. His mother had gone upstairs to probably take one of her sleeping pills.

“Dad.” Sawyer hated how nervous he sounded. “I need to talk to you.”

His father turned with an expression that managed to be both indulgent and dismissive. “About?”

Sawyer hesitated and looked down at his watch again. He rotated it around his wrist before letting it drop back against his skin.

“If you have something to say Sawyer, say it.”

Sawyer swallowed. “About school. After graduation.” He took a breath. “I…I’m not sure I want to work for the company.”

The silence stretched. His father took a sip of scotch and set it down on the desk with a soft clink. “Alright,” he said calmly. “Then what exactly do you plan on doing?”

Sawyer shrugged even though his pulse had started climbing. “I don't know. I’ve been taking some political science classes and reading some legal stuff. I kind of like it.”

His father stared at him skeptically. “You’ve spent two years acting like none of this mattered. Drinking, partying and barely passing your classes. Now suddenly you want to go into law?” He sighed.

“You’ve never stuck with anything in your life. You quit the lacrosse team. You quit the internship I arranged for you this summer. You’ve quit every single thing that required actual discipline.” His father’s voice wasn’t angry. It was worse than angry because it was certain. “You’re panicking about graduation and you’re looking for an excuse to delay the inevitable adulthood. You’ll apply to a few schools and realize how much work it truly is.”

Sawyer felt heat rising in his face. “You think I can’t take something seriously?”

“I think you don’t know what serious looks like,” his father countered simply. “I think you’ve been given every advantage in the world and you’ve squandered them because you think you have time to figure it out later. Law school isn’t a hobby, Sawyer. It’s not a way to avoid making real decisions.”

“And taking over your company is a real decision?”

His father sighed a long suffering sound that meant he was done with the conversation. “Explore it then. See what happens. If you get into a decent school and you actually attend, I’ll support you. But I’m not going to pretend I think this is anything more than another one of your projects.”

He picked up his scotch again, dismissing him.

Sawyer stood there for a moment shaking with anger he didn’t know how to express. He wanted to scream that he’d changed. That losing Grant had changed him, that meeting Harrison had changed him. But his father wouldn’t believe him. Words wouldn’t convince him, only action would.

“Okay,” Sawyer said quietly.  He turned and walked out. Upstairs in his room, he sat on the edge of his bed and pulled out his phone. He downloaded social media again and searched for one name and Harrison Whitaker’s profile came up. Sawyer’s thumb hovered over the message button.

Not yet. He needed to get his own shit together first. The idea of Harrison seeing what he’d become made his stomach twist.

Tomorrow he’d get out of bed before noon, maybe clean his room and start responding to texts. That was probably a good place to start. He didn’t feel numb anymore. Instead, there was fear and uncertainty but also determination. He lay back on the bed. 

The summer wasn’t over yet. There was still time to turn things around.

*** Harrison’s POV ***

“How does it feel?”

The cameras were still pointed at him and the microphones were shoved in his face. 

“You scored 3 touchdowns today. Do you feel like you’ve made it?”

“No.”

The room laughed and Harrison smiled because that was apparently the correct response.

45 minutes later he was finally alone in his hotel room. This one was in Kansas City. Or maybe it was Denver? They were all starting to blur together. It was one of the best games of his rookie season. He should feel something…elated or at least satisfied, but he didn’t. He felt like he could sink into the beige carpet and just fucking vanish and nobody would even notice.

Even with all the pressure in college, there had still been moments of actual joy where his team felt like a family. But the NFL wasn’t like that. It was a business. The veterans had their own lives and endorsement deals. They didn’t need to bond with the rookie quarterback. They were polite enough but they didn’t invite him to hang outside of work. They treated him like the new coworker. 

Sometimes after games like this he would instinctively reach for his phone to text Sawyer. He’d catch himself and remember that he couldn’t do that anymore. Sawyer still showed up in his head at the worst times. Harrison had seen a photo Tyler posted over the summer with some group shot from a wedding and Sawyer had been in the background. Harrison had stared at that corner of the photo for way too long, zooming in until the pixels blurred, then deleted social media off his phone for three days.

His phone buzzed. It was the team’s PR director

Reminder: Tomorrow night is the charity gala at the Field Museum. Black tie. Arrive by 7 for photos. You're seated at table 4 with some of the sponsors.

“Great,” he muttered to himself. 

***

Harrison had never been inside the Field Museum before. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and reflected off the polished marble floors. He made his way to the bar and ordered a club soda with lime. He was technically allowed to drink but the team nutritionist had given him a whole lecture about inflammation and recovery. 

“You’re the quarterback, right?”

Harrison turned. The woman next to him had curly dark hair that fell past her shoulders and big brown eyes. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Harrison.”

“I know,” she said, smiling. “I’m Eliza. I recognized you from the game yesterday.”

“Thanks.” He waited for the follow-up: the request for a selfie or the mention of how her brother or cousin was a huge fan. Instead, Eliza just nodded at the bartender and ordered a vodka soda. Then she turned back to Harrison and lowered her voice. “God I hate these things.”

He stared at her for a second. She looked like a model, which he realized she probably was. Someone famous enough to be at this event but not famous enough that he recognized her. She took a sip of her drink. “I’m only here because my agency told me it would be good for my brand.”

“What exactly is your brand?”

“Right now? I’m trying to transition from modeling to acting. Emphasis on trying.”

“How’s that going?”

“Terrible. I keep getting cast as dead body or sad ex girlfriend number three. But hey, at least I’m working.” 

Harrison smiled despite himself. As she spoke he became aware of a faint itch somewhere deep in his nose. He rubbed at it absently and took a sip of his club soda. 

She tilted her head. “You look miserable by the way. Not to be rude.”

Harrison surprised himself by laughing. Before he could answer, his breath caught unexpectedly. The tickle was no longer subtle. It was a persistent prickle that was slowly making its way forward. He swallowed and tried to dislodge the feeling but it only seemed to make it stronger. His nostrils began to twitch in a faint flutter that he hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“Is it that obvious?” he managed to ask. His eyes were starting to water and he had to fight the urge to rub them. He could feel his nostrils beginning to flare. The hitching started in a series of small desperate gasps he tried to stifle. 

“Hah…hih..excuse me…” He pressed a knuckle hard against his nose in a desperate attempt to hold back the inevitable. The pressure was immense and he was using every ounce of his will to keep it trapped.

“hah..hih….HAH—”

He couldn’t hold it anymore. He turned away from her as much as he could in the crowded space and buried his face into his shoulder.

“HAAAAAA-CHOOOO! HIII-CHOOOO! HASSSSSHOOOO!”

The force of it left him dizzy. A few heads turned and he could feel their stares like a physical touch. But the itch hadn’t disappeared. If anything, the sneezing had just stirred it up and made his whole face feel hot and tight. “Oh god, I am so sorry,” he rasped. His nostrils were flaring wildly again. “I don’t know what.. hah..hih…”

“hih..ih-SHOO! HAAAAAA-SHOOOOOO!”

Harrison’s eyes were watering so badly he could barely see her. He grabbed a handful of napkins from the bar and pressed them to his face. He felt like a public spectacle.

“Oh my god, are you okay!?” Eliza asked. She looked genuinely concerned. “Do you need some water or something? That was intense.”

Harrison just shook his head. “Fuck. Sorry. No, I’m good.” His voice was a congested mess.

“So why are you really here?” she asked. Her voice was softer now as she tried to salvage the conversation.

Harrison attempted to focus on her words but the crawling sensation in his sinuses was all he could think about. “That’s the reason,” he sniffled. “And if I’m being honest, I don’t know what else to do with my time. Everyone else has wives and families. I only have football.”

Eliza nodded and looked sympathetic. “Same. I just have a cat. And an apartment in Los Angeles that I never see because I’m always flying somewhere.”

Harrison looked up. “A cat?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Fuck. The crawling unbearable itch. The sudden violent sneezing. His eyes darted to the dark wool coat draped over her arm and noticed a few pale hairs clinging to the fabric. It all made perfect miserable sense.

Eliza followed his gaze and her own eyes went wide with realization. She groaned. “Oh my God. It’s my coat, isn’t it? I just flew in from LA and my cat sheds like a motherfucker.”

“It’s fine,” Harrison lied.

“No it’s not,” she insisted as she shrugged out of her jacket “I’ve been shedding cat hair on you for the last few minutes.”

The coat disappeared into the check room a few minutes later. Harrison took a tentative breath through his nose. The immediate overwhelming urge to sneeze was gone but the damage was done. His sinuses still felt tender and inflamed and a dull itch lingered deep inside. 

“Better?” she asked as she handed him a glass of water.

“A little,” he admitted. She continued talking, but he was so distracted by the lingering threat of another sneeze that he could barely follow what she was saying. He was just starting to feel like he could breathe semi-normally again when they were interrupted by one of the team’s PR people.

“Harrison! There you are. We need you for photos. And Eliza, perfect! You’re here too. The photographer wants some shots.”

They ended up sitting together at dinner. Harrison found himself talking to her about the weirdness of being recognized in airports and how none of his college friends understood why he couldn’t just “come home for the weekend.” Eliza talked about modeling and how she’d started at sixteen because her mother thought it would be good exposure and how she’d spent her teenage years being told she was too fat or thin, or too ethnic or not ethnic enough and how she was trying to pivot to acting because at least then she got to speak.

Dinner eventually ended. “Well,” Eliza said as she pushed back her chair. “I’m supposed to go pretend I’m enjoying myself for another hour.”

Harrison smiled. “Good luck.”

“You too, quarterback.”

***

The headlines hit two days later.

Bears QB Off the Market? Inside Harrison Whitaker’s Romance with Mystery Model 

Harrison stared at his phone in the locker room. They’d only talked for a few hours. But the photos looked intimate. The angle made them look like a couple, and the internet had done the rest. 

His agent Zane called within an hour. “This is perfect,” he gushed. “Do you know what this does for your marketability? The wholesome quarterback and the glamorous model? It's gold, Harrison. Absolute gold.”

“It’s not real though,” Harrison protested. “We’re just friends.”

Zane completely missed the point. “Even better. Keep it vague, let them speculate.”

Harrison sat on the bench in front of his locker. He should tell them the truth. He should say there was nothing there, that he was gay and this whole thing was a misunderstanding. He ran a hand through his hair. “It feels like lying...like I’m using her.”

“Using her? Harrison, listen to me,” Zane’s tone shifted from giddy to serious. “She’s a model trying to become an actress. You’re a rookie quarterback. You’re not using her. It’s mutually beneficial.”

Harrison didn’t say anything. The idea of turning that night of genuine connection into a calculated transaction made him feel slimy.

“I don’t know, man.”

“Yes you do,” Zane pressed. “The contract negotiations are coming up. The endorsement deals we’ve been courting…Harrison, they want a family man. This is a gift. It solves a problem you didn’t even know you had.”

The loneliness crept back in. Zane was right. He’d been feeling it for months: the quiet empty hotel rooms and the lack of connection with his teammates. He imagined Sawyer somewhere far away moving on with his life. He thought about the next event. He wouldn’t have to go alone. He’d have a friendly face in the crowd.

“Okay,” he heard himself say. “Maybe we’ll lean into it only if she's okay with it too. But it’s casual. Nothing serious.”

He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bed.

It wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t Sawyer. 

But it was something. And in this new life Harrison was learning to take what he could get, even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

*** Sawyer’s POV ***

Junior year had started and Sawyer didn’t feel like he was drowning anymore. He actually went to his 8AM classes and was getting A’s. Not the kind you stumbled into by showing up and bullshitting your way through, but real grades earned from knowing the material. His GPA was slowly clawing its way back from the grave and for the first time in a long time, he felt proud of it.

He’d started going to the gym consistently again too. He was running, lifting and eating food that hadn’t come through a drive thru window. He’d even quit smoking again. This time it felt like it might stick.

He’d joined the Student Alumni Association because his father’s name was on half the buildings on campus and it looked good on a resume. Somewhere along the way he’d ended up truly liking it. He’d even reconnected with people he’d effectively ghosted over the summer. Ashley had dragged him out for coffee one morning and he’d told her almost everything. She didn’t know about Harrison specifically, but she now knew he’d been with women and men. “Yeah, no shit,” she had laughed. It had been strangely relieving. He didn’t feel like he was hiding quite so much of himself anymore.

He still went to the parties and had fun. But he’d leave by midnight instead of 4AM. His fraternity brothers noticed and called him “Grandpa Henderson” to which Sawyer would laugh and flip them off. He felt like he was building a life Grant might be proud of if he could be around to see it. But Grant was gone. And Harrison was gone as well but in a different way. He tried not to think about him, but Harrison still occupied the edges of his mind.

He was in the library one afternoon going over his class notes when his phone buzzed on the table. It was a notification from a sports gossip site he’d followed for years out of habit. The headline hit him like a punch to the gut.

Bears QB Off the Market? Inside Harrison Whitaker's Romance with Mystery Model

Below it was a photo gallery with Harrison next to a woman who was for a lack of better word, stunning. In one shot, he had his hand on the small of her back as he was leaning in to say something in her ear. They looked like they belonged on a magazine cover.

Sawyer’s stomach dropped. He knew Harrison was gay. He remembered Harrison’s hands on his hips and how his breath would catch when Sawyer kissed his neck. This was a PR lie. It was probably a brand, not a relationship.

So why did it hurt so much?

He scrolled through the article as his eyes caught on phrases like power couple and source close to the quarterback says he’s smitten. He zoomed in on the picture of Harrison’s face. He looked happy. And a small poisonous thought whispered in the back of his mind: What if this was real?

His gut screamed no though. He knew Harrison and knew he liked men only. But knowing it didn’t stop the ache. They looked so right together. In another life he thought bitterly, that could be him standing there. He could be the one in the photos, not the one scrolling through them in a library. But he had been the one to push him away. To be upset at this would be stupid.

He slammed the laptop shut with a sharp crack that made the girl at the next table glare at him. He didn’t care. He needed to burn the image out of his head.

***

The semester rolled on and Sawyer kept finding things to do. He was in a meeting for the Student Alumni Association sitting in a conference room in the athletic department. The topic was the annual “Leadership in Athletics” weekend in the spring. They were finalizing the list of guest speakers.

“Okay and now for the dinner,” the faculty advisor Dave began. The excitement in his voice immediately caught the room’s attention.

“This is probably the biggest alumni speaker we’ve landed in years. We’ve got confirmation of Harrison Whitaker.”

Sawyer’s blood ran cold. Absolutely fucking not.

Several people started talking at once. Someone across the table let out a low whistle. 

“He’s agreed to do a sit down Q&A and a keynote address,” Dave continued excitedly. “His agent has been easy to work with. We’re just finalizing travel, security and guest accommodations.”

Great. He’ll probably bring the supermodel.

The conversation exploded from there. People started throwing out ideas and questions while Dave worked through the itinerary. 

“And for the student speaker,” Dave continued as he looked around the room. “We wanted someone who embodies the spirit of leadership and resilience. Someone who’s turned their academic career around.” His eyes landed on Sawyer.

“Sawyer Henderson. Your family has been a huge supporter of this department for years, and we’ve all been impressed with your renewed focus. How would you feel about sharing your story?”

For a second, Sawyer’s brain was just static. 

Share my story? In front of Harrison!? 

He wanted to laugh or maybe pass out. He saw it all in a flash: him on stage stammering through some canned speech about finding his purpose while Harrison watched from the front row with Eliza probably on his arm. 

It was a fucking nightmare.

But then Grant came to mind. He remembered the empty summer and the rotting feeling of doing nothing. He thought about the person he was trying to become who didn’t run.

“Okay,” he heard himself say. “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent,” Dave beamed.

The meeting ended and people filed out but Sawyer stayed in his seat. He was going to have to stand in front of Harrison and give a speech about success. 

After a year of silence, Sawyer was going to see him again.

Holy shit.

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Chapter 13 is: Here

[north-east-sf]

Currently wrapping up the next chapter which is about 90% plot & character development and only 10% sneezing. This is deeply upsetting to me personally 😅

The problem is I’ve kind of backed myself into a corner where Harrison and Sawyer need to grow as people before the next sneezy disaster can occur.

Please bear with me. The sneezes will return 🙏🏼

[north-east-sf]

Creating stories is so embarrassing because why are my psychological problems getting character arcs now? 💀

[north-east-sf]

The Discipline of Falling Apart | Ch 11

A slow-burn enemies to lovers story following my college OC's Sawyer Henderson and Harrison Whitaker. Word Count: 6,485

Chapter 1 is: Here | Chapter 2 is: Here | Chapter 3 is: Here | Chapter 4 is: Here | Chapter 5 is: Here | Chapter 6 is: Here | Chapter 7 is: Here | Chapter 8 is: Here | Chapter 9 is: Here (nsfw) | Chapter 10 is: Here

─────────────

Chapter 11 - Harrison’s POV

Harrison had spent his whole life trying not to be an idiot. And here he was sitting in a student conduct meeting because he punched a guy at a fucking frat party.

His head was pounding. His knuckles still hurt too which was annoying because every time his hand brushed the table or he flexed his fingers he got another reminder of what he’d done. Whenever he closed his eyes he could still see Devon’s drunk face, feel the crunch of his fist hitting his jaw and then see Sawyer’s shocked eyes.

Harrison sat at a long polished table. Across from him sat the Athletic Director. Next to him was his Coach who seemed like he’d rather be anywhere else. There was also a woman from Student Conduct whose name Harrison had already forgotten. And Devon was there too looking surprisingly smug for a guy with a bruised jaw. He had this fake wounded look that made Harrison’s stomach clench.

Harrison wasn’t a fighter. He’d spent his whole life learning to keep control. On the field, it was his greatest asset. He didn’t get rattled or throw weak interceptions. He was the guy who stayed calm and made the smart play. Last night, he hadn’t made the smart play. He’d made the stupidest one possible. He could already see the headlines: NFL prospect punches guy at party.

The door opened and Sawyer walked in.

He looked like shit but it was a strangely composed version. He was wearing a clean shirt and his hair was neatly styled but his face was pale with dark circles under his eyes. He looked tired. Sawyer took the empty chair beside Harrison and he heard the faint congested whistle of his breath.

“Sorry I’m late,” Sawyer said. His voice sounded rough as hell. He didn’t look at Harrison; just placed his hands flat on the table like he was grounding himself. 

Harrison had braced for chaos. He’d expected a defensive sarcastic Sawyer who made jokes to deflect the tension. But this wasn’t that Sawyer. He sniffled once and appeared steady in a way Harrison had never seen before.

“Mr. Henderson,” the Athletic Director began. “Glad you could join us.” He steepled his fingers. “Alright. Let’s all be adults here. We’ve heard several versions of what happened already. We’re here to decide how the university is going to proceed.”

“Right,” Sawyer responded. He gave a small nod of cooperation but Harrison saw his nostrils flare slightly. “I understand there was an incident.”

“There was a fight, son,” the Coach cut in bluntly. “In your fraternity house. With our quarterback.”

Harrison flinched. Sawyer didn’t.

“Yes,” Sawyer agreed calmly. He turned his gaze to Devon. “I think we can all admit that things got out of hand. Let’s back up for a second.” He paused and Harrison watched him take a careful breath through his mouth. His nostrils trembled slightly in a familiar frustrated twitch. He sniffed and pressed on. “Devon here was concerned about an interaction I had with his girlfriend Kelly.”

“I saw you hitting on her,” Devon sneered.

Sawyer’s expression didn’t change. “I was getting a bottle of water. She approached me. I politely disengaged. I was sick, I wasn’t looking for any interaction. Later, Devon found me outside. He was drunk and came looking for me.”

“I told him to leave,” Sawyer continued. His nostrils were beginning to flare with each breath, and he rubbed at the tip of his nose. Harrison had spent enough time around him lately to recognize the warning signs. Sawyer tried to keep going. 

“He shoved me against the wall.” He glanced at the Athletic Director. “I was tired, I wasn’t feeling well, and I reacted poorly. I threw a punch. It was a stupid reactive thing to do, and that’s on me.” 

For a second Harrison thought he was in the clear. Then Sawyer’s eyes narrowed slightly. He took a shaky breath and his nostrils began to flutter wildly.

“Hh…” 

The sound escaped so quietly Harrison wasn’t even sure anybody else heard it. Sawyer turned his head a few inches and covered quickly with his fist.

“Hh’...ngktSH!...k’tshh!—kshh’ngkt!”

The sneezes were somewhat caught by whatever desperate effort Sawyer had made to suppress them but they still left him pausing for a second afterward. Then he straightened immediately and focused back at the table like nothing had happened.

“Sorry,” he rasped. “Anyway,” Sawyer continued. His eyes finally flicked to Harrison for the first time in a quick unreadable glance, “Devon came back at me. He was winding up to swing again. Harrison..intervened.”

“He decked me!” Devon exclaimed.

“Harrison threw one punch,” Sawyer corrected firmly. “One. And the fight was over immediately. Nobody else got involved. Nobody was seriously injured. Devon was helped up and he left with friends. That was it.”

Sawyer looked around the table confidently and Harrison felt like he’d missed a step somewhere. Sawyer wasn’t exactly lying. He was simply leaving out the parts that made it sound like a big deal.

“Look,” Sawyer continued as he leaned forward slightly. The movement made him wince and he pressed a hand to his temple for a second. “This was a stupid fight between college kids. It happens. No police were called.” He looked at the woman from Student Conduct. “Making this an official university thing…what’s the point? It just creates paperwork for everyone. Nobody wants that.”

Harrison watched, mesmerized, as Sawyer subtly turned to Devon. “Right, Devon? You don’t wanna spend the next month talking to student conduct people either. You really wanna be known as the guy who tried to drag everyone’s favorite quarterback over some fight you started? It’s over. Let’s just leave it over.” 

Devon scoffed weakly. “So what, he just gets away with punching people because he’s famous?”

“No,” Sawyer said simply. “He gets treated like a college kid who lost his temper for a second because he thought his friend was about to get hit by you.”

Friend. The word hit his chest wrong. Before he could dwell too much on it, Sawyer’s breath suddenly hitched and he whipped his head towards the side.

“Hhh’eshh’nghooo! Hih’ksh! Hh’kshhh!—h’kshh!—Ksshh!”

Harrison’s Coach sighed. “You sound awful Henderson.”

Sawyer gave a weak shrug without looking up. “Yeah, well. Been a long night.”

Sawyer hadn’t even meant to do that and somehow it still worked. Instead of looking like an aggressive instigator, he was now just like a sick guy running on no sleep. Sawyer sniffled softly into his fist then continued before anyone else could grab control back. 

“Look Devon. It was a stupid night. You were drunk, I was sick and in a bad mood. Let’s not make this into something it isn’t. We were all idiots.”

Devon sort of deflated as Sawyer kept talking reasonably. Five minutes ago Devon had looked ready to drag this out and now he looked like he wanted to disappear. Sawyer was giving him an out. 

“I..I guess,” Devon mumbled.

The university people exchanged glances. They weren’t hostile and if anything, they seemed relieved. The Rose Bowl win had put the university on the map and the NFL draft was a PR goldmine. They didn’t want a scandal. They wanted this to go away. Sawyer was giving them the perfect excuse to do exactly that.

Harrison’s Coach cleared his throat. “So we’re in agreement. An unfortunate incident. But handled internally. No further action from the university.”

Sawyer nodded. “We’ll handle things with the fraternity. We’ve all already spoken.” 

Harrison doubted they had, but it was the perfect thing to say.

The meeting wrapped up ten minutes later. As they filed out of the room Harrison felt a wave of relief so intense it made his knees feel weak. They’d done it. Sawyer had saved him.

Sawyer was already walking ahead of him. “Hey,” Harrison called out.

Sawyer stopped. His face was wiped clean of whatever performance he’d given in that room. He seemed hollowed out now.

“Thanks,” Harrison said. It came out rough. “For what you did in there.”

Sawyer shrugged. “Don’t mention it.” He then hesitated. “Look..maybe we should take it easy for a while. Lay low until things cool down with the draft.”

Harrison frowned. “Take it easy how?”

“You know,” Sawyer said vaguely. “Just not be so visible together for a bit.”

Before Harrison could respond to that, Sawyer started digging through his pockets. “Do you..hhh..have a…a tissue? I don’t know where mine went.” He rubbed his twitching nostrils with his knuckle. “Hh…god.” 

Harrison checked his own pockets automatically even though he already knew he didn’t have anything. “Sorry, I don’t.” 

Sawyer glanced over at him but Harrison wasn’t even sure he’d fully processed the answer. He lifted a hand toward his face like he was still trying to stop it but the effort barely lasted a second before he turned away sharply and folded into his elbow.

“Hh’NGKXT’tshh! Hhh’eshh’ngh! Hih…Hih’KSSHHiew!”

Sawyer sniffed thickly and dragged his sleeve across beneath his nose before immediately looking annoyed with himself for having to do it. “Look, I’m beat. I need to crash for like..four hours. Maybe six.”

“Yeah,” Harrison said quickly. “Of course.”

Sawyer nodded. “You left your stuff at the house. Your jacket and backpack.”

“I can grab it later. You should sleep.”

“Mmm.” Sawyer finally looked at him and Harrison saw something complicated move through his eyes: exhaustion and something else he couldn’t quite place. “Swing by whenever. I’ll be there.”

Then he turned and walked away. His shoulders dropped with every step he took away from Harrison until he seemed like a different person entirely. Not the guy who’d commanded that conference room. Just someone sick trying to make it to his bed.

Harrison watched him go until he turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

***

The frat house looked wrong in daylight. Harrison had only ever seen it at night full of string lights and red solo cups. Now it sat quiet with the paint peeling in places he hadn’t noticed before. He climbed the steps and pushed through the front door. 

A few guys were sprawled on the couches watching some sports recap with the volume low. They turned when Harrison walked in.

“Whitaker?”

“Hey,” Harrison said awkwardly.

“Dude!” The guy who Harrison thought was Connor or maybe Chase, grinned and stood up. “That was fucking insane last night. You decked that guy.”

“It was-” Harrison started.

“No seriously,” cut in another guy from the kitchen. “Devon’s a dick. Everyone knows it.”

“And you stood up for Sawyer,” the first guy continued. He was nodding like Harrison had passed some kind of test. “That’s solid man. Most guys wouldn’t get involved.”

Harrison shifted his weight. He didn’t know what to do with this gratitude or approval or whatever it was. 

“Is Sawyer around?” he asked. “He has some of my stuff I left here last night.”

“Upstairs,” the kitchen guy said. “Came back a few hours ago looking like death. He’s probably in his room.”

Harrison nodded thanks and headed for the stairs. The hallway upstairs was narrow and lined with doors that had names written on them. He found Sawyer’s door at the end and knocked.

“Come in,” came a muffled voice. 

Harrison pushed the door open.

Sawyer’s room was smaller than he’d expected. It was definitely more cluttered than Harrison’s apartment but there was an order to it that surprised him. Not messy, exactly. Just…full. The walls were covered in posters, Polaroids and a tapestry that had probably been acquired at a music festival and never taken down. A collection of shot glasses lined the windowsill. Each one was from a different city. Chicago. New Orleans. Austin.

Sawyer was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt that said “Kiss Me I’m Irish” even though it was January and Harrison didn’t think he was even Irish. He did look slightly better than he had at the meeting though. The nap had taken some of the paleness out of his skin.

“Hey,” Sawyer greeted. He sniffled, then reached for a tissue from the box beside him. “Your jacket’s here.” He pointed to where it was draped over the back of his desk chair. 

“Thanks,” Harrison said as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. There was a wastebasket next to the desk overflowing with crumpled tissues. Empty packets of cold medicine littered the nightstand that looked like they were torn open with teeth marks on the edges.

“Your backpack’s downstairs though,” Sawyer said as he stood up. He swayed slightly. “Shit. Sorry. Got up too fast.”

“You good?”

“Fine. Just dizzy.” Sawyer waved him off but his voice sounded hoarse. “I’ll grab it. Be right back.”

He shuffled past, close enough that Harrison could feel the heat coming off him and then he was gone. 

Harrison stood there suddenly alone in Sawyer’s space.

He didn’t mean to snoop. That wasn’t the plan. But the room was so specific and aggressively personal. It was like being inside Sawyer’s head and Harrison found himself slowly taking it in. The books on the wall weren’t only decoration. Many of them had bookmarks sticking out. There was a bulletin board above the desk covered in layers of photos and ticket stubs and random crap; the kind of leftovers from a life that actually gets lived.

Harrison stepped closer. The photos were mostly what he expected: Sawyer with friends, Sawyer at parties, Sawyer making stupid faces at the camera. But there was one in the corner slightly tucked behind a flyer that caught his eye.

It was smaller than the others and printed on matte paper that had started to curl at the edges. Two boys stood on a golf course. One was clearly Sawyer but younger (maybe sixteen?) with softer features and hair that hadn’t been styled yet, just falling over his forehead in messy brown waves. He was wearing a polo shirt that was too big for him and he was smiling. Not the performative grin Harrison was used to but something real.

The other guy had his arm around Sawyer’s shoulders. He looked like Sawyer but older and harder around the edges with the same hazel eyes and sharp jawline. He was grinning at the camera like he was challenging it and knew exactly how handsome he was and didn’t care.

Grant.

Harrison knew it immediately. He’d never seen a photo of Sawyer’s brother but there was no mistaking the resemblance or the easy familiarity of the pose. Grant’s hand was heavy on Sawyer’s shoulder and Sawyer was leaning into him looking happy in a way that made Harrison’s chest hurt.

He looked away. He felt like he’d seen something he shouldn’t have.

His gaze then dropped to the desk. It was covered in the usual mess. But underneath a pile of old concert wristbands there were papers. Printouts actually, with highlighter marks and notes.

Harrison pushed the wristbands aside.

They were court documents. Or summaries of them anyway. He recognized one on top but underneath were more unknown ones. The margins were filled with handwriting he recognized as Sawyer’s. Next to a highlighted section, Sawyer had written “This argument is insane. How did they prove this?” 

Harrison frowned and picked up another stack. LSAT practice questions. It was folded hastily like someone had shoved it away. Harrison smoothed it out.

There was one section filled out and the answers were circled in pen. Harrison scanned the questions. They were the kind that made his own head hurt just looking at them. Harrison flipped to the answer key at the back. Sawyer had answered almost all of them correctly. Out of 25 questions, Sawyer had only missed two.

Harrison stared at the paper. He thought about the meeting that morning and the way Sawyer had read that room and handled those university officials and Devon like they were chess pieces. He thought about Sawyer at parties acting like nothing mattered. Making stupid jokes and getting everyone to laugh and making people underestimate him. He thought about himself, who had to study for hours to maintain his GPA and rehearse answers before interviews.

And Sawyer, who apparently aced LSAT questions for fun.

The door clicked open.

Harrison jumped and nearly dropped the paper. He shoved it back under the wristbands but not fast enough.

Sawyer stood in the doorway holding Harrison’s backpack. His attention went from Harrison’s face to the desk and his expression shifted instantly. 

“Uhh,” Sawyer said. He sniffled. “Find what you were looking for?”

“I wasn’t..” Harrison started. He then stopped. There was no point in lying. “You’re studying for the LSAT or something?”

Sawyer’s grip tightened on the backpack strap. “What?? No. That’s old stuff.”

“Old stuff,” Harrison repeated. He pointed to the court case printouts. “You wrote notes in the margins.”

Sawyer immediately became uncomfortable. He walked over to the desk and started gathering the papers. “It’s not...I mean, it’s not some whole thing. This stuff is just a hobby. I listen to true crime podcasts. It’s not a big deal.”

“Bullshit,” Harrison said.

Sawyer’s hands stilled. He looked up and there was something dangerous in his eyes now. “Excuse me?”

“You aced that practice sheet,” Harrison pressed. He wasn’t even sure why this was getting under his skin so much. Maybe because Harrison hated learning he had been wrong about someone. He’d spent months thinking he had Sawyer figured out and suddenly realized he’d missed something huge. “You got most of these right. That’s not a hobby. That’s potential.”

Sawyer laughed but it was sharp and wrong. “Potential? What am I, Elle Woods? Greek life turned Harvard Law?” He scooped up the LSAT papers and shoved them into a desk drawer. “It’s nothing. I do logic puzzles when I’m bored. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” Harrison insisted. “I saw you this morning in that meeting. You read everyone in that room. You knew exactly what to say to make them back down. That’s not..that’s not just party tricks. That’s skill.”

Sawyer turned away to face the window. “I’m good at talking to people. So what?”

“So you could actually do it,” Harrison argued. He couldn’t let this go. It felt important, like he’d suddenly uncovered something crucial. “You’re clearly smart enough. Why are you hiding it?”

“Not hiding,” Sawyer mumbled. He brought his hand up to his face and pressed his fingers against his temples like he was trying to hold something in. “Just...not advertising.”

“Why??”

Sawyer didn’t answer. His breath hitched and Sawyer turned his head. Harrison saw his nostrils flaring and the desperate intake of breath.

“Hh’ih…” Sawyer turned away from Harrison and buried his face in the crook of his elbow just in time. “Hh’KSSHH!—Hh’ksh! K’shh! Hih...ksh!—ksh!—ih’kshh!”

The sneezes were violent and rapid. When Sawyer straightened up he seemed more exhausted than ever. 

“Because,” Sawyer sniffed thickly. “I already have a plan. I take over the family business. Why mess with what’s already decided?”

Harrison stared at him. The room felt too small. He could see the photo of Sawyer and Grant out of the corner of his eye: a different version of Sawyer that didn’t exist anymore. 

Sawyer cleared his throat and broke Harrison’s train of thought. “Your backpack’s by the door. You should probably go before you catch this.”

Harrison gazed at him for a second longer. He wanted to argue. The words were already there. That’s not your plan though. That’s your father’s plan. Or, You don’t sound like someone who wants that. 

But Sawyer had gone quiet in that particular way Harrison was starting to recognize. Not silence exactly. Sawyer could still joke when he wanted to avoid something. This was different.

Sawyer cared.

He had apparently been sitting alone in this room taking LSAT practice tests and reading court cases while everyone else thought he was just screwing around.

Sawyer was rubbing tiredly at his face now. Harrison grabbed his jacket from the chair and bent to pick up his backpack by the door. Pushing him anymore felt shitty. He had the feeling that if he stayed any longer he was going to start asking questions Sawyer wasn’t ready to answer.

“I’ll see you later.” He hesitated. “Get some sleep or something.”

Harrison pulled the door open. Halfway to the stairs he stopped.

23 out of 25. 

What the hell.

*** 

The next day, Harrison was stretched out on the couch in his apartment with a playbook open in front of him though he’d been staring at the same page for nearly 5 minutes without actually reading any of it. His phone buzzed against the cushion beside him.

Normally he would’ve let it sit there. Between reporters, boosters, alumni and random people somehow getting his number, texts had started multiplying lately. But something made him pick it up. The message was short.

Harrison, this is Richard Henderson. I'll be in town Monday evening and wanted to congratulate you properly on your season. Join Sawyer and I for dinner at 7:00 PM. I'll send the location.

Wait. What the fuck?? 

He found himself staring at Sawyer’s name in his contacts before pressing call. The phone rang long enough that Harrison thought he wasn’t going to answer. When Sawyer finally picked up, he sounded like he’d been asleep.

“Hello?”

Sawyer’s voice still sounded slightly congested but better than it had been before.

Harrison shifted on the couch. “Your father texted me.”

“What?” Harrison heard sheets moving around on the other end and pictured Sawyer rolling over in bed. 

“Yeah. He wants to grab dinner with me and you I guess? Why would he want to do that?”

Sawyer paused. He got the feeling he was waking up and trying to catch up with the conversation. “I..I don’t know. But my father doesn’t really do things for no reason. Maybe he wants to talk football stuff. He likes connecting with prospects in the athletic department.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re there though.”

Sawyer coughed quietly and Harrison heard him clear his throat afterward.

“I bet it’s about the fight. I’m sure he heard about it.” Sawyer sounded distracted now, like he was thinking through it while he talked. “He probably wants to make sure everything’s fine.” He sniffed again. “Or make sure I’m not dragging important people into dumb shit.”

Harrison frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sawyer was quiet. Then he laughed softly. “Nothing.” Harrison could practically hear him rubbing at his face. “I don’t know. Maybe he just wants dinner. My father gets ideas sometimes.”

Harrison leaned back against the couch and stared down at the message again. For some reason the whole thing seemed stranger now than it had two minutes ago. Ever since the student conduct meeting something had shifted and Harrison couldn’t quite get his hands around it.

“I guess we’ll find out at dinner.”

***

Harrison arrived at 6:55 PM. It was one of those restaurants that didn’t have a sign out front, only a heavy oak door with a brass handle. Harrison was wearing the only suit he owned which was now slightly too tight across the shoulders from last season’s weight training. He’d shaved too close and nicked himself under the jaw. He could feel the sting every time he turned his head. 

As the hostess guided Harrison towards the back, he adjusted the sleeves of his jacket and found himself wishing he’d loosened his tie before coming in. Why was he so nervous? He’d played in front of packed stadiums with thousands of people screaming at him. He straightened automatically when he spotted Mr. Henderson and Sawyer.

Sawyer was sitting with his back partially turned so Harrison saw Mr. Henderson first. And somehow the man appeared exactly the same. He seemed expensive in a way Harrison couldn’t really explain. Everything fit perfectly. Not flashy, not trying too hard. Just...certain. Like the suit had been made specifically for him. 

Sawyer’s hair was combed back and styled like the gala months ago. He looked presentable. Or maybe more accurately, he looked like somebody had spent time making sure he looked presentable.

Harrison had forgotten about this version of him. Maybe forgotten wasn’t the right word because he’d definitely thought about the gala afterward. He remembered seeing Sawyer that night and feeling totally thrown off by it. Sawyer usually wore hoodies and backwards hats with his hair falling into his eyes because he couldn’t be bothered to fix it. He was always effortlessly attractive, which Harrison hated acknowledging out of jealousy from how natural it seemed to be.

Sitting across from his father, Sawyer looked like he belonged there. He was wearing a dark sweater with his hair styled neatly and he seemed like he fit into the same world his father did. He could suddenly picture Sawyer ten or fifteen years from now sitting at some long conference table wearing a suit and talking to investors. The image was so clear it actually caught him off guard.

But then he got closer. And like the gala, the illusion started to break apart around the edges.

Because Sawyer was the gentler version of his father. Less controlled and polished. There was something softer in Sawyer’s face that kept him from looking intimidating in the same way. Even when Sawyer tried to look serious, Harrison always had the feeling that if you waited long enough you’d catch him smiling at something stupid.

And right now the cold wasn’t helping. His nose was still pink from constant rubbing and his skin was slightly flushed beneath the restaurant lighting. He looked like somebody trying very hard to hold himself together. Sawyer probably hadn’t wanted to be here at all. And yet he’d still fixed his hair and put on nice clothes and showed up anyway.

“Mr. Whitaker,” Mr. Henderson said as he stood in greeting. His grip was firm. “Thank you for joining us.”

“Thank you for having me, sir,” Harrison responded. His voice came out steadier than he felt.

They sat. Harrison slid into the booth opposite Sawyer so he was looking at both of them.

“So,” Mr. Henderson began. He didn’t look at Sawyer, only at Harrison. “The Rose Bowl. That final drive was something else. I was in the stands. The awareness you showed..most quarterbacks panic in that situation.”

Harrison blinked. “Thank you. I just tried to stay calm.”

“Calm,” Mr. Henderson repeated like he was tasting the word. “That’s exactly it.”

He then asked about the season and Harrison’s training. Harrison answered automatically as he fell into the rhythm of post-game interviews. Mr. Henderson wasn’t simply asking to be polite. He was listening. He nodded at the right moments and asked follow up questions that showed he actually understood football.

Harrison found himself relaxing. This was territory he knew. He could talk about this for hours, and Mr. Henderson seemed content to let him.

But after twenty minutes, Harrison realized something was wrong. Sawyer hadn’t spoken. He’d ordered the salmon when asked, but he was otherwise silent and withdrawn like a ghost. He was staring at the bread basket like it required his full attention but Harrison could see his jaw working and the muscle ticking in his cheek. 

Harrison watched him from the corner of his eye while answering a question about zone coverage and noticed the subtle hitching of Sawyer’s breath and the way his nostrils flared every few minutes. He’d bring his napkin up to his face and press it there for a second, then lower it. His face was contorting into that familiar pre-sneeze expression. His father didn’t notice. His father didn’t look at him at all.

Something hot and uncomfortable settled in his chest. Harrison thought about the conference room and how Sawyer had sat there looking exhausted and sick while still getting an entire room to follow exactly where he wanted them to go. He thought about Sawyer at parties: sharp and impossible to ignore. And now he was watching him disappear. Harrison glanced over at Mr. Henderson.

Why are you more curious about me than your own son?

The thought popped into his head and Harrison pushed it down and took a sip of water. But it stayed there burning.

Sawyer’s breath hitched again more urgently this time. He was trying to hold it back but it was a losing battle. His free hand came up and pinched his nose. It didn’t work. 

“Hh’ih..Hhh..h’KSSHH!!—ihh’kshoo! Hh’NGKXT!”

The three rapid sneezes exploded into his napkin and they were loud enough to cut through the restaurant’s quiet atmosphere. Sawyer bent forward with his face hidden in the white cloth as his body jerked with each one. They sounded painfully congested and desperate like they’d been building for a long time.

Sawyer lowered the napkin slowly. His eyes were watering and his face was flushed a deep embarrassed red. He wiped his nose and reached for his glass of water with a hand that trembled slightly.

“Bless you,” Harrison murmured quietly.

Mr. Henderson finally looked at his son. Not with concern but with something like inconvenience. “Still sick?” he asked.

“Getting better,” Sawyer mumbled. He sounded stuffed up.

“Speaking of which. I heard there was some excitement at the fraternity last weekend.”

Sawyer stiffened. “It was nothing. A misunderstanding.”

“A fight,” Mr. Henderson corrected. He turned back to Harrison. “You’ve worked hard for where you are. One unfortunate moment can follow someone for a long time.”

Harrison opened his mouth but Mr. Henderson held up a hand. “I know young men get into arguments," he said smoothly and diplomatically. “I know alcohol and emotion can make people irrational sometimes.” He paused and swirled his wine. “I’m sure you’re aware that your reputation is everything at this level. The Athletic Department and the NFL invests millions and they want to make sure that investment is sound.” He let the weight of his words settle before continuing. 

“People usually like Sawyer very quickly. He always has a tendency to be...intense. Discipline matters at your level and you can’t let other things distract you.”

Harrison felt the implication land. Sawyer’s a bad influence. Are you smart enough to distance yourself from my son?

He glanced over at Sawyer and waited for the rebuttal. The sharp sarcastic deflection or the Dad, fuck off that Sawyer would have delivered to anyone else. He expected Sawyer to straighten up and grin that crooked grin saying something cutting and clever that would put Mr. Henderson in his place.

But Sawyer just sat there. The fire Harrison was used to, the spark that made Sawyer Sawyer, was gone. He seemed like he believed everything his father was implying.

“Well Sawyer’s disciplined too,” Harrison heard himself say. 

Sawyer looked up so quickly his chair shifted slightly against the floor. 

Harrison hesitated but then continued. Maybe it was because Sawyer had spent the entire dinner shrinking into himself and sitting there half sick and exhausted while the conversation flowed around him like he wasn’t really part of it. 

“He hides it. I saw some of his stuff the other day. Sawyer’s really smart. He’s not just..I mean, he’s got potential.” 

Mr. Henderson turned his head over curiously. “What stuff exactly?”

Harrison’s heart was hammering and his palms were sweating against his suit pants. “...law things.”

Mr. Henderson glanced from Harrison to Sawyer. His expression was unreadable. “Law?” he asked. “That’s new.”

“It’s nothing,” Sawyer said quickly. His voice was strained. “Just a hobby. I like true crime podcasts. It’s stupid.”

Mr. Henderson smiled faintly. “Well, you’ve always enjoyed arguing.” He chuckled a low sound that made Harrison’s skin crawl. “But law school? That’s a serious commitment. And Sawyer’s path has always been clear. The family business is waiting for him when he graduates.”

He said it like it was an inevitable gift. Sawyer was staring at his hands. His knuckles were white. Harrison looked at Sawyer and then looked at Mr. Henderson; the man who had spent an hour asking Harrison about his dreams while ignoring his own son’s.

Sawyer made eye contact with Harrison and shook his head faintly in warning. Let it go.

Harrison’s jaw ached from clenching it. “Of course,” Harrison said as he forced the words out. “The family business. That makes sense.”

Mr. Henderson gave a satisfied smile. “Exactly. Now, dessert?”

The dinner continued but Harrison barely tasted his food. When the check came, Mr. Henderson paid without looking at it. He stood, shook Harrison’s hand and told him he had a bright future. He briefly touched Sawyer’s shoulder. “Keep me updated about next semester,” he said and walked away.

Sawyer stayed seated. Then slowly he brought his napkin back to his face.

“Hh’kshh!” he sneezed quietly into the cloth. Then again. “Hh’kshh! Hih…t’shh!”

Sawyer lowered the napkin. “You shouldn’t have said that,” he said. His voice was flat.

“I’m sorry,” Harrison said. “He was treating you like..”

“Like what?” Sawyer stood up. “That’s just how he treats me. It doesn’t matter.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. “Thanks for dinner. Good luck at the combine.”

Then he turned and started walking toward the front of the restaurant.

For a second Harrison stayed where he was. He realized that tonight wasn’t only a congratulatory dinner. Mr. Henderson heard about the fight and wanted to see for himself what was going on. He wanted to figure out if Harrison was the problem or if Sawyer was.

By the time Harrison pushed through the restaurant doors, the parking lot had mostly emptied out and the air outside was colder than he expected.

“Hey,” Harrison said as he hurried to catch up. “Wait up.”

Sawyer stopped in front of his car and pulled a crumpled tissue from his pocket. He pressed it to his nose as his breath hitched.

“Hh’ngkxt! K’tschh! Hih…KSSHH!”

The sneezes were harsh and congested. He blew his nose miserably and Harrison’s chest tightened pity. 

“I meant what I said Sawyer,” Harrison emphasized as his voice softened. “He’s wrong about you. You were amazing in the conference meeting that morning.”

Sawyer finally looked at him. “Yeah, well,” he rasped, “Somebody had to be. You can’t exactly afford a black mark on your record.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means I saw the headlines in my head too,” Sawyer said as his voice cracked with exhaustion. “Future NFL Star in Brawl. It wasn’t a good look.”

“So you fixed it,” Harrison countered. “You got us out of it. We’re good.”

“Are we?” Sawyer asked. He glanced away again. “I’m..I’m a complication.” He gestured at his current state. “My father’s not wrong. The fight at my fraternity kind of proved it, right? I drag you into stupid shit.”

Harrison stared at him completely lost. “What? All that night proved was that I care about you. I saw that guy coming at you and I didn’t even think. I reacted.”

“And that’s the problem!” Sawyer’s voice rose. He turned to face Harrison fully. “You didn’t think. You’re the guy who thinks about everything. You plan, you calculate and with me you lose control. You threw a punch in a backyard full of cell phones because some drunk asshole shoved me. Don’t you get how dangerous that is for you?”

Frustration tightened in Harrison’s chest. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Sawyer let out a sound that was half laugh. “Harrison, I’ve been in fights before. I can handle myself. But you can’t. You can’t have a scandal. You have one job for the next few months, and that’s to be perfect. To be the clean cut guy every team wants to draft. You can’t have a loose cannon in your corner.” 

“You’re not a loose cannon,” Harrison protested.

“Aren’t I?” Sawyer gave a short bitter laugh. “I party too much. I’m the guy who hooks up with half the campus. I’m a bad influence. That’s what they’ll call me. The guy who’s dragging the golden boy down.”

“I don’t care what they think.”

“But you should!” Sawyer’s voice cracked with emotion. “Harrison, you’ve worked your whole life for this! I’m not going to be the reason you throw it away. I can’t be.”

Harrison stared at him for a second breathing hard now too. “I think you’re overreacting. Your father doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You shouldn’t listen to him. And you’re acting like one drunk fight means we’re doomed or something.”

Sawyer rubbed his temples. “Tonight just made it obvious. My father saw this huge future with you. Then he looked at me and saw the thing that could screw it up.” He took a shaky breath.

“Harrison, in four months you’re gonna be drafted. Your life is about to become insane. Training camps, travel, endorsements, press. You barely have time for yourself now.” He swallowed. “What exactly do you think this turns into?”

“I…I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

The question hit hard because Sawyer asked it so plainly.

“No seriously, how?” Sawyer pressed. “You think an NFL rookie schedule magically leaves room for a secret relationship with some guy back at your college? You gonna fly back between games? Sneak around hotel rooms? Pretend we’re just friends forever?”

Harrison had no answers. 

“You don’t even know what we’re figuring out.” Sawyer sighed. “It’s better this way. To stop this before it gets harder.” 

The blood drained from Harrison’s face. This couldn’t be happening. How had they gotten here? He thought about the couch in his apartment and how Sawyer melted into his arms and was honest for the first time about his brother. He thought about the shower and the intimacy of it, the way Sawyer had surrendered control. How could all of that stop?

Sawyer finally looked at him and his eyes were glistening. He wasn’t quite crying, but he was close. He reached out like he wanted to touch Harrison’s arm but his hand stopped halfway and fell back to his side. “You’re going to be amazing Harrison. Truly. Go be the guy everyone knows you can be. Just..do it without me.”

He turned and got in his car, leaving Harrison in the parking lot. 

Harrison stood there for a moment before he shoved his hands into his pockets and started towards his own car. His mind was reeling. Sawyer probably believed every word he’d said. That this was somehow protecting Harrison and that he would eventually look back and realize Sawyer had done him a favor. But Harrison kept thinking about the way Sawyer’s hand had lifted towards him before falling back to his side.  Because people didn’t look at you like that when they were done.

Not really.

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Link to Chapter 12 is: Here

[north-east-sf]

The Discipline of Falling Apart | Ch 10

A slow-burn enemies to lovers story following my college OC's Sawyer Henderson and Harrison Whitaker. Word Count: 4,044

Chapter 1 is: Here | Chapter 2 is: Here | Chapter 3 is: Here Chapter 4 is: Here | Chapter 5 is: Here | Chapter 6 is: Here | Chapter 7 is: Here | Chapter 8 is: Here | Chapter 9 is: Here (nsfw)

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Chapter 10 - Sawyer's POV

Sawyer came back to campus from winter break in January feeling like he’d somehow missed three months instead of three weeks. Everything looked mostly the same. But Harrison Whitaker was now everywhere.

He wasn’t just a rising star anymore. He was a Rose Bowl winner. 

His face was on TVs mounted over restaurant bars. Sports accounts kept posting edits of his highlights with dramatic music layered over them. ESPN analysts were talking about him. Harrison was turning into something bigger than an actual person.

The press release dropped at 8AM. Harrison was in a graphic posted by the athletics department with huge letters saying what everyone had been waiting for since the win: 

Harrison Whitaker Declares for NFL Draft

Sawyer stared at it for a long moment. He had known it was coming. Everyone had known it was coming. And the thing was, Sawyer was proud. He had watched Harrison win the Rose Bowl like something straight out of a football movie he normally would’ve made fun of. Sawyer’s hometown friends had even started texting him.

Dude, holy shit your team won the Rose Bowl! 

Wait, isn’t that your quarterback? Do you know him?

Sawyer kept staring at those texts longer than he should have. Because yeah, he knew him. He knew the subtle little crease Harrison got between his brows when he laughed. He knew Harrison had nearly set off the smoke alarm in his apartment a month ago because he had somehow managed to burn grilled cheese while insisting he knew what he was doing. He knew Harrison got weirdly competitive about board games and secretly loved terrible reality TV when nobody else was around.

But the guy in the photo didn’t have any room for that. He was probably becoming too important and public for whatever this thing between them was. By declaring for the draft, Harrison was already gone. He was on a different path heading toward a future that didn’t include shitty frat houses or kitchens smelling like burnt grilled cheese.

Sawyer hated that feeling. It was the same knot he’d had in his gut since the police showed up at his family door three years ago. Sawyer had spent the next three years learning not to get attached to things that could disappear. Having something to lose fucking hurt. He knew logically that Harrison wasn’t actually dying. He was just going to become some big-shot football player. But it was a slow death all the same. Like one day this would turn into some college memory neither of them talked about anymore. The thought made his throat feel tight and when he swallowed it hurt enough to make him stop.

Oh shit. Just what he needed. 

He swallowed slower this time, testing it like an idiot even though he already knew what that scratchy feeling meant. 

“Crap” he muttered. The holidays always wrecked him a little. Too many airports and packed houses where somebody was always sick and everyone acted surprised when it spread.

His phone buzzed in his hand. Speak of the devil.

“Congratulations superstar,” he answered. There was a burst of noise on Harrison’s end with voices and movement in the background. Then Harrison’s laugh came through a little breathless.

“Thanks,” Harrison replied. “My phone hasn’t stopped going off all morning.”

Sawyer shifted onto his side. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Harrison said, then paused long enough for Sawyer to know the answer was more complicated. “I mean, I think so. It’s just…a lot.”

“Dude, this is amazing though,” Sawyer said and he meant it. He was so fucking proud of him. “You’re officially a big deal.”

Another voice said something near Harrison and he answered with a distracted “In a second,” before coming back. 

“Let’s go big and celebrate tomorrow.”

“Sorry,” Sawyer snorted as he pushed himself up onto one elbow. “Who is this? Since when do you want to party?”

Harrison let out a laugh. “I don’t know. Must be from hanging out with you. You’re a bad influence, Henderson.”

He was obviously kidding. Harrison said it like a joke in a soft and almost fond way. Months ago Sawyer probably would have loved it. He would have leaned into it and said something about finally corrupting America’s favorite quarterback. But now he felt a twinge of something uncomfortable. Because maybe there was a truth to it. Maybe Sawyer was dragging him down, away from the focused path that led to the NFL. 

“I think I might be coming down with a cold though,” Sawyer said as he cut that thought off before it could choke him. “So it’s probably best we avoid each other for a bit. I know you have, like, an insane schedule now.”

“Nahh don’t worry about it,” Harrison said easily. “I barely ever get sick. It’s fine.”

“No man I’m serious,” Sawyer insisted a little more forcefully than he meant to. He could feel the crankiness starting to set in, which always was the first sign of his colds. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re sniffling through some important interview or some shit. Just..let’s lay low for a couple days, okay?”

Harrison made a sound that was almost a sigh. “I don’t care if you have a cold.”

“I do,” Sawyer countered. “I’m not jeopardizing this time for you because I want to be selfish for one night.”

Harrison didn’t answer right away. Sawyer could hear the muted chaos behind him. It made the silence between them feel weirdly tense.

“You’re not jeopardizing anything,” Harrison said finally and his voice had gone careful in that way Sawyer hated. 

“Still though.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Okay,” Harrison finally said, his voice a little flat. “Yeah. Okay. Feel better, Sawyer.”

“Text me later?”

“Yeah.”

The call ended strangely. Not with a fight but not with any real warmth either. Just a quiet little disconnect. Downstairs someone shouted and laughed and Sawyer closed his eyes. He felt all over the place. Proud as hell for Harrison, weirdly sad about it anyway and now apparently getting sick on top of everything else.

***

Friday night, Sawyer was in bed by 9PM, which felt both pathetic and unfortunately necessary. He was in an old hoodie and sweats and his hair was messed up from running his hands through it all day. His nose had started running sometime in the afternoon and had only gotten more congested and itchy since.

The party started when the sun had gone down. At first it was chill but now the bass was thumping through the floor and giving him a headache. His throat hurt and his sinuses felt swollen and heavy. Every breath through his nose kept catching weirdly. He was stuffed up and itchy at the same time. God he hated being sick.

Sawyer’s nose prickled sharply and he scrubbed hard at the underside of his nose. He ripped the plastic off the new tissue box he had gotten earlier that day and pulled out a handful as he buried his face in them just in time.

“Hh’tschu!...Hhh’eshh’ngh! K’tschuh!..ihh’kshoo!”

A knock hit his door a second later. Sawyer froze with the tissue still pressed under his nose.

“Go away,” he called, though the congestion ruined any chance of sounding intimidating.

The door cracked open anyway since privacy barely existed in a fraternity house. Tyler leaned in with a red cup in one hand and a grin.

“Dude,” Tyler laughed. “You look tragic.”

Sawyer dropped back against his pillows. “Thanks. I was going for dying Victorian child.”

“You’ve got that locked down.” Tyler stepped farther inside. “You coming downstairs or what?”

Sawyer gestured vaguely at his own face. “Does this look like someone people want around?”

Tyler waved a dismissive hand. “A head cold is the least disgusting thing at a frat party.” He leaned against the doorframe swaying slightly. “But hey, if you feel like shit stay in bed. Can’t blame you. Though you should know the party is ramping up. Harrison and the team just showed up.”

Sawyer looked up too fast which made his head throb.

“What?!”

“Harrison. He’s downstairs.”

What?? What the hell was he doing here? For a second his brain just kind of stalled out. Harrison was downstairs. Harrison, who knew Sawyer was sick and contagious. Harrison, who had just led his team to win the Rose Bowl and now had half the country watching him.

“What the fuck?” Sawyer said before he could stop himself.

“Yeah, man. He’s asking for you,” Tyler laughed. “It’s hilarious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drunk before. Not wasted wasted but definitely not sober. But I guess he’s celebrating, right?”

Shit. Sawyer felt a spike of panic. What else was he saying? Harrison rarely drank and Sawyer had no idea if he had a good filter when he was wasted. He masked his internal freak out with a shrug. “Well, a celebration isn’t complete unless it’s been graced by my presence. Tell him I’ll be down in five.”

“Atta boy,” Tyler pointed at him and pulled the door shut behind him.

Sawyer sat there for another moment and listened to the noise below him.

Why did Harrison come?

That question kept repeating as he got up and changed out of his old hoodie into a cleaner one (like that somehow mattered). His nose was pink around the edges and his face had that stupid sick softness that made him look younger and more pathetic than he preferred.

Perfect. He shoved tissues into his pocket and went downstairs.

The place was packed. His head felt heavy, his nose was already starting to run again, and there was a persistent, annoying tickle high up in his nostrils. He scanned the room and tried to spot Harrison in the sea of people. Before he could find him, a pair of heavy hands landed on his shoulders from behind. 

“Hey”

Sawyer turned around. Harrison’s eyes were bright and unfocused but he looked happy and relaxed. “Hey. Uhh…what are you doing here?” Sawyer asked.

“Celebrating at the best party frat on campus. Obviously,” Harrison slurred as he leaned in too closely. Sawyer became painfully aware of the heat of Harrison’s body and the way his eyes kept looking at Sawyer’s mouth like he didn’t have the good sense to stop himself in public. “A party isn’t fun without you.”

Sawyer pulled back slightly and his eyes darted around the room. People were watching them with curiosity plain on their faces. “Careful, man,” Sawyer tried to say casually. “You’re drunk. You don’t want to make yourself too obvious.” He lowered his voice even more. “And you need to be careful in general. It’s probably a bad look for a future draft pick to be seen wasted at a frat party.”

Harrison stared at him for a second looking vaguely confused as if his brain was still catching up. Then he smiled again. “You sound responsible.”

Sawyer let out a chuckle. “Don’t spread that around. It would ruin me.”

Harrison lifted his beer and Sawyer’s eyes dropped to the bandage around his wrist. Sawyer hadn’t asked as much about it as he wanted to, mostly because Harrison hated being fussed over. “How’s your wrist?”

“Hurts,” he admitted. “But the beer helps.”

Sawyer stared at him. “That might be the worst medical plan I’ve ever heard.”

Harrison waved him off. “Tonight’s for fun. I gotta take a page out of your book and care less.”

The joke should have landed. It was totally Harrison’s kind of dry humor. Instead, Sawyer felt that same uncomfortable feeling from the phone call. But before he could answer, one of Harrison’s teammates appeared and clapped him on the back. Harrison was swept away in a tide of bro hugs and he shot Sawyer an apologetic shrug over his shoulder. Sawyer watched him go. He knew how hard it was to argue with a drunk person, especially a drunk Harrison who was currently the center of the universe.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he muttered to himself as he turned towards the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen. He squeezed past a couple making out against the counter and grabbed a bottle from a cooler filled with ice.

“Sawyer, right?” a voice came from his right.

A girl stood beside him with dark hair and a green tank top fitted enough that most guys in the room would have lost their train of thought immediately. He recognized her vaguely from a neighboring sorority. Kelly, probably.

“Yeah,” he said. “Hey.”

She smiled. “I’m Kelly.”

Nailed it.

“Right. Kelly. How’s it going?”

“Better now,” she said but there was too much alcohol in her voice which made the line less smooth than she probably intended. Sawyer gave a polite laugh, already angling his body toward the living room. “Glad to hear it.”

“You’re hard to pin down,” she teased.

“I’m actually pretty easy to find. I live here.”

She chuckled and touched his arm. “You know what I mean.”

Months ago this would have been easy. Kelly was pretty, confident, clearly interested, and Sawyer knew how to do this dance so well he could have done it in his sleep. He’d flirt back, let the attention be a distraction from the crap in his head, maybe make out with her in the hall and let the night blur the rest.

Instead he felt tired. Also his nose was starting to run again. Great timing.

“I’m actually sick,” he said as he lifted the water bottle slightly between them like a shield. “You probably don’t wanna be this close.”

Kelly smiled wider. “I’m not scared.” 

Sawyer stared at her. He should want this. But he didn’t want Kelly. He didn’t want another hookup.

He wanted Harrison.

The realization was not exactly new, but it still hit him like a punch to the gut. He was fucked.

Sawyer shifted the water bottle to his other hand and gave Kelly the most harmless smile he could manage. “I should get this to someone.”

Her expression dipped as disappointment flashed through before she covered it. 

“Excuse me.” He left before she could answer.

Sawyer got the water to Harrison, then watched Harrison forget to drink half of it because people kept pulling him into conversations. Everyone wanted a piece of him. Sawyer even caught multiple people subtly recording videos or taking pictures with their phones. Girls laughed more and guys slapped his shoulder as they told him in great detail where he should get drafted and how he should play the next season.

Harrison wasn’t really encouraging the attention but he wasn’t shutting it down either. He didn’t flirt back nor was he acting like some arrogant asshole enjoying his new status. He was just…looser. Smiling at stuff he wouldn’t normally smile at and letting people drag him into conversations without trying to get away. Drunk Harrison still had the bones of regular Harrison, just more relaxed.

Sawyer watched from different parts of the room and pretended he wasn’t watching. 

His head got worse around midnight. By then his cold was really kicking in. His eyes and nose were stuffed up and every breath felt wet and useless. Worse than that was the growing tickle that refused to actually go anywhere. For the last few minutes he’d been stuck in this miserable limbo where every breath kept threatening a sneeze without fully getting there. His nostrils would flare but the feeling would stall out and leave him stuck.

“Hh…”

Sawyer pressed the back of his wrist under his nose and inhaled sharply.

Nothing. 

“Hih—”

Still nothing.

The false starts were somehow worse than just sneezing. Every hitch left him more sensitive and congested than before. He could feel pressure building behind his eyes and he was vaguely aware of himself looking ridiculous standing there frozen over the kitchen counter. 

At some point Harrison found him.

“There you are,” Harrison said warmly. He draped himself heavily across Sawyer’s shoulders and nearly sloshed beer over the rim of his bottle.

Sawyer barely reacted as another sharp inhale caught in his breath immediately.

“Hh…h—”

Harrison paused mid sip of his beer and stared at him. “You okay?”

Sawyer waved him off impatiently without looking up. His nostrils were twitching and he gave another soft hitch.

“Just sneeze already,” Harrison laughed.

Sawyer’s eyes opened and he scowled. “I’m literally…hih..trying!! It’s just...the itch is right there and then it’s not.” 

“Oh my god,” Harrison muttered affectionately. Then before Sawyer could process what he was doing, Harrison reached over and lightly bopped him on the nose with two fingers.

The sudden contact startled the absolute shit out of him.

“Hh’IITSCHH!—Hh’tschh!....Hh-uh’TSCHH! Tschh!”

The sneezes hit so fast Sawyer barely managed to jerk away before burying his face in the crook of his elbow. The fit kept going in quick sharp bursts one after another.

“Hh’kshhh!—h’kshh!—Ksshh! H’gshhuh!”

“Woah, bless you,” Harrison said, sounding both entertained and concerned now. “You look awful.”

Sawyer groaned miserably as he scrubbed at his nose with a crumpled tissue. “I hate you.”

Harrison laughed. “No you don’t.” 

Sawyer muttered something unintelligible before unfolding another tissue and blowing his nose hard into it. The sound came out thick and congested enough to make him cringe immediately afterward.

“Damn,” he mumbled hoarsely. “I sound disgusting.”

“You sound sick,” Harrison corrected. He still looked annoyingly amused.

Sawyer shot him a tired glare while wadding up the tissue in his fist. Harrison’s expression softened a little as he looked him over again. “Seriously though,” he said more quietly. “Why are you still awake?”

Sawyer gave him a look. “Because you’re literally at my house right now.” 

Harrison glanced away briefly. He looked weirdly unguarded for a second. “This whole day’s been insane. You’re kinda the only person I actually wanted to celebrate with.”

The words hit Sawyer right in the chest. 

Because Harrison could’ve been anywhere tonight. Ideally at a carefully controlled gathering that actually fit the future waiting for him. Instead he was here in a loud frat house wrapped around a congested and cranky Sawyer while stale beer soaked into the floorboards. Maybe he really was dragging him down. Sawyer rubbed at his nose before glancing at the beer still hanging loose in Harrison’s hand. “How many of those have you had?”

Harrison’s expression shifted slightly. “I don’t know. Why does it matter?”

Sawyer rubbed tiredly at his face. “I just think maybe you should slow down a little.” He gestured vaguely toward the packed house. “You’ve got people filming you every five seconds. Maybe it’s time to switch to water?”

Harrison gave him an amused look. “For months, all I’ve heard is that I need to have fun. And now that I finally am, you’re telling me to stop?”

Sawyer looked away, already irritated because Harrison wasn’t entirely wrong. Sawyer was probably a bad influence. 

“I just..I don’t want to see you screw this up. You’re the future NFL guy now. I’m just saying maybe act like it.”

Shit, that had landed badly and Sawyer could tell immediately. Something cooled in Harrison’s face at that. “Right,” he said quietly. Harrison looked more hurt than angry, and drunk enough not to hide it very well. Somebody across the room yelled Harrison’s name and Harrison was gone before Sawyer could fix it.

The party finally started thinning soon after. The music dropped to something lower and people stumbled out in groups and ordered rides home. Sawyer needed air. He could feel a teasing itch crawling inside his sinuses that signaled the beginning of another fit. He slipped through the kitchen and out into the back. The yard was mostly empty now. It was scattered with abandoned cups and a few guys lingering near the fence. 

Finally, a moment of quiet. The itch spread, like his nose had finally decided it had permission to let loose and Sawyer tiredly gave in.

“Hhh...hih’KSSHH! Hh...tchh! Hh’tschh’iew!”

They came fast and hard. He groaned as another wave built.

“Hh’tschu! Hh...ng’tschh! Hh’tschu!”

God they were starting to really wipe him out. He wiped his nose and leaned against the side of the house as the back door opened. Sawyer opened his eyes as some guy he didn’t recognize stumbled out. He looked around the yard with the exaggerated focus of someone too drunk to realize how drunk he was.

Sawyer sighed. “Hey. Party’s ending, man. You should head out.”

The guy’s gaze snapped to him. “You Sawyer?”

Sawyer’s patience (which was already hanging by a thread) made a sad little noise and died.

“Depends who’s asking.”

The guy stepped farther onto the patio. “You were talking to my girlfriend.”

Sawyer blinked. “What? Who are you? What girlfriend?”

“My girlfriend,” he said as if repeating it louder would help. “Name’s Devon. And my girl is Kelly. The dark haired chick in the green tank top. You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

“Oh.” Sawyer rubbed a hand over his face. “Right. No man, I wasn’t hitting on her.”

Devon scoffed. “I’ve heard the stories. You’re a player. You hook up with everyone.”

“Yeah I guess I used to,” Sawyer said as his annoyance started to bubble up. He felt like shit; he’d had an emotional few days, and this drunk asshole was wasting his time. “Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but-”

Devon stepped closer and one of the guys by the fence clocked the movement and looked over.

“Okay, whatever. Stay the fuck away from Kelly,” Devon slurred as he jabbed a finger in Sawyer’s face.

“Great, not a problem. Now get the fuck out of my house,” Sawyer shot back.

The shove came hard and stupid. Sawyer slammed back against the siding. For a second everything went quiet and people rose to their feet.

“Really? Go home, man.”

Instead, Devon wound up. It was almost insulting how obvious it was. His shoulder pulled back like he had learned how to punch from movie trailers. Sawyer easily sidestepped it as the guy’s fist flew harmlessly past his face into the air.

Normally Sawyer would’ve just laughed the guy out of the yard but tonight something in him snapped. All the sad frustration, the feeling of being left behind and the misery of getting sick came tumbling out at once. He was tired of being pushed around, literally and figuratively.

His fist connected with Devon’s face before he had fully decided to throw with a solid, satisfying thwack. It wasn’t a knockout punch, just enough to bruise his ego.

Devon staggered back with a shocked sound and Sawyer stood there breathing hard as the pain bloomed across his knuckles. Conversations died off mid sentence as people turned toward the commotion. Behind him someone murmured, “Holy shit!” while another voice called “Sawyer chill!”

Devon’s eyes were bright with humiliation and fury.

“Oh, you motherfucker.”

Devon lunged forward with the overconfidence drunk guys always seemed to have. Sawyer saw the movement but his brain lagged by his cold and the weirdness of the entire night. He was slightly aware of his fraternity brothers moving in from the edges of the yard. 

Devon’s arm came up and Sawyer shifted back instinctively. But before Devon could throw, there was movement from his left so fast Sawyer barely processed it at first. A powerful, lightning fast punch shot out and connected with Devon’s jaw and he fell backwards. Sawyer whipped around in shock.

And there was Harrison. His chest was heaving and his cheeks were flushed from alcohol and anger. His green eyes were sharp in a way Sawyer had almost never seen before. Harrison looked big like this. Not just football-player big but genuinely intimidating.

Devon swore under his breath and scrambled to his feet looking more shocked than injured. He blinked a few times and then his eyes widened in recognition. 

And suddenly Sawyer saw the scene the way everyone else was seeing it. Harrison Whitaker: a future NFL draft pick, drunk and standing in the middle of a frat house fight. Sawyer imagined this all ending up online by morning. A cold dread washed over him.

Oh no. Fuckkkk. 

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Link to Chapter 11 is: Here

[north-east-sf]

The Discipline of Falling Apart | Ch 9

A slow-burn enemies to lovers story following my college OC's Sawyer Henderson and Harrison Whitaker. Word Count: 3,807

CW: Extremely NSFW!!! Explicit Sexual Content. 18+ only. I'll indicate in the chapter where the NSFW sections start and end. As always, read whatever you’re comfortable with. Themes include: mature shower content, anal sex, first time intimacy.

Chapter 1 is: Here | Chapter 2 is: Here | Chapter 3 is: Here | Chapter 4 is: Here | Chapter 5 is: Here | Chapter 6 is: Here | Chapter 7 is: Here |Chapter 8 is: Here

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Chapter 9 - Sawyer's POV

Four days. 

That’s how long it had been since Sawyer had basically collapsed in Harrison’s arms and let himself be carried back to his apartment like some kind of damsel in distress. Four days since he’d spilled his guts about his dead brother and his shitty dad and four days since Harrison had held him on the couch and kissed his temple like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Of course this cold was a lingering stubborn bastard though. When Sawyer had finally dragged himself out of Harrison’s apartment on Sunday, Harrison had pressed a stainless steel tumbler into his hands. Inside was an alarmingly thick green concoction that looked like something one would find at the bottom of a swamp.

“Drink this,” Harrison had urged. “It’s got ginger, kale, turmeric and some other stuff. It’ll help.”

Sawyer had taken one look and grimaced. “Dude this looks like toxic waste.”

“It’s good for you,” Harrison had insisted. “Just drink it.”

He had. He’d choked the nasty thing down once he was back at his own place. It tasted like dirt. But as he sat there, he couldn’t help but feel this weird flutter in his chest. No one had ever made him a disgusting health smoothie before. No one had ever fussed over him like that. It was weirdly nice. 

By Thursday he was slowly on the mend. He was still sick but functional. Which is why he was standing outside Harrison’s door again feeling that familiar mix of excitement and nerves. 

They were stuck in this weird undefined space. It was sort of like a situationship, he guessed. And Sawyer (for the first time in his life) was terrified of screwing it up. He knocked anyway and the door swung open. 

“Hey,” Harrison greeted as a small smile spread across his face. He seemed tired. 

“Hey yourself,” Sawyer replied. He stepped inside and immediately noticed the slump in Harrison’s shoulders. “You look like shit.”

Harrison let out a small laugh. “Thanks. You’re not looking so hot yourself, you know.” 

“No, I’m serious,” Sawyer said as he dropped his bag by the couch. “The games, the travel..I think it’s catching up to you.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Harrison dismissed. His gaze flicked over Sawyer’s face as his expression softened with concern. “You, on the other hand. Still sniffling.”

Sawyer rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the reflexive sniffle that followed. His nose was the most annoying thing on the planet right now. It wasn’t totally blocked anymore but it wasn’t clear either. It was constantly stuffy and then it would randomly start running like a faucet. 

“It’s in that stupid phase where it just refuses to leave. You know, the one where you’re not sick enough to get sympathy but you’re still gross enough for people to avoid you.”

Harrison chuckled and reached out to brush his thumb over Sawyer’s cheekbone. “You still sound a little congested.” His touch sent a shiver down Sawyer’s spine.

“Dude, I’m fine. I get a million of these a year.” He rubbed the tip of his nose with his knuckle. It was starting to tickle again. Annoying. “Meanwhile you look like you haven’t slept since Sunday.”

Harrison waved it off as he turned to grab a water bottle from the fridge. Sawyer’s eyes caught Harrison’s wrist. There was a fresh looking wrap of athletic tape around it. “What’s with the bandage?”

Harrison flexed his hand as he tested the tape. “It’s just tender. The trainer looked at it and said it’s a minor sprain and still playable.” He shrugged like it was nothing but Sawyer saw the slight wince he tried to hide. “That’s just part of the season. Playoffs hit you like a ton of bricks. Everyone’s playing hurt.”

Sawyer frowned. The guy seemed like he was hurting all the time and was just dealing with it. “You’re a machine, man.”

“Gotta be,” Harrison said simply but Sawyer could hear the exhaustion under it.

He wanted to argue and tell him to take it easy but he knew it was pointless. So he just nodded and tried to push down the knot of worry. Sawyer had seen the schedule. The next few weeks were a brutal gauntlet of away games with each one more important than the last. There was no room for screw ups or time for rest.

As if on cue, his chest decided to remind him that he wasn’t exactly at peak performance either. A deep cough built up from nowhere. Harrison’s hand was instantly on his back rubbing slow circles. “Jesus, Sawyer. That sounds awful.”

“Yeah it’s the last thing to go,” Sawyer rasped. “It’s fun. Really adds to my whole aesthetic.”

Harrison chuckled and grabbed him a glass of water from the kitchen. Sawyer gratefully accepted it and found his throat burned a little less after a few swallows. They eventually drifted over to the couch and put on a movie that neither of them were really paying attention to. 

Harrison was telling him about the next upcoming game: some big away match against a rival team. They were leaving Friday afternoon. “It’s gonna be a shitshow,” Harrison sighed as he rubbed his wrapped wrist. 

“You need to be careful,” Sawyer murmured. “You’re not invincible you know.”

“Tell that to my coach,” Harrison snorted.

Sawyer just nodded. He was so focused on Harrison discussing the other team’s defense that he almost didn’t notice the slow leaking in his own nose. With a quiet sigh, Sawyer grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table. He intended to give a light wipe but the moment he applied the slightest pressure, his sinuses seemed to sigh in relief and let go completely. What was supposed to be a gentle dab turned into a long, wet blow. Damnit.

“Feel better?” Harrison asked quietly.

Sawyer just nodded and straightened up. “Sorry,” he mumbled as his face burned with embarrassment. “This is so fucking sexy, right?”

Harrison just chuckled as his hands moved up Sawyer’s back. “It’s all part of your charm,” he teased as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to Sawyer’s shoulder. 

Sawyer shivered. Harrison’s mouth moved to his neck as he kissed a slow trail down to his collarbone. His hand slid around to his stomach, then started to drift lower. All thoughts of his stupid cold evaporated. The only thing he could think about was Harrison’s mouth and the way his entire body was warming with need.

He met Harrison’s mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. Harrison kissed him back just as hard. His hand slipped under the waistband of Sawyer’s pants and his lips brushed against Sawyer’s ear. “Come take a steamy shower with me. It’ll help loosen everything up.”

Sawyer’s brain short-circuited. The thought was both incredibly tempting and absolutely terrifying. On one hand, he wanted to see all of Harrison. Unwrapped, undone, everything. On the other hand he was still a snotty, sneezing mess. There would be no hiding in a shower. The steam would probably make his nose go completely insane.

“I don’t know, I’m so gross…” he started, but Harrison was already leaning in. 

“I still find you attractive,” Harrison murmured. He leaned in and kissed Sawyer’s cheek, right next to his cold-ridden nose. “I told you. I don’t care.” He nibbled his earlobe then kissed down his neck and Sawyer’s resolve crumbled. “Okay,” he breathed out. “Okay, yeah.”

Harrison was up and moving toward the bathroom before Sawyer could change his mind. He heard the water start and the sound of the spray hitting the tile. Sawyer took a deep breath and followed him with his heart pounding. -- NSFW Section Begins --

Harrison was already stripping out of his clothes and his bandaged wrist, and holy shit. Sawyer had seen him without a shirt before but this was different. Sawyer suddenly understood why people ruined their lives over hot athletes. The broadness of his shoulders, the v-cut beneath his abs and the powerful muscles of his back: Harrison Whitaker was a work of art. And then his eyes dropped lower. 

Ohh yeah, of course he was. He figured a guy like Harrison would be packing. It wasn’t even surprising. 

Harrison climbed into the shower with the water cascading over his shoulders. He gazed back at Sawyer who was still fumbling with his own pants. “You coming?”

Sawyer finally got his clothes off and stepped in. He might not have the chiseled bulk of a football player but Sawyer knew he was in good shape from years of lifting and running. The way Harrison was looking at him right now made him feel like he was just as much of a masterpiece. The hot water hit his skin and a second later, Harrison’s mouth found his. Sawyer kissed back as his hands roamed over the slick skin of Harrison’s chest and back. Harrison’s hands found him too. He pulled him closer and explored him with a confidence that made Sawyer’s knees weak. 

With women Sawyer knew the playbook. He knew the rhythm and the little things that made them gasp. He was confident and in control. But this? Total fucking mystery. He was way out of his element. He had no idea how many guys Harrison had been with but it didn’t matter because it was definitely more than Sawyer’s grand total of zero. Harrison moved like he knew exactly what he was doing and it was both a massive turn on and incredibly intimidating. Sawyer felt uncoordinated and awkward. He was following, not leading. It was a role he wasn’t used to.

Also him still being sick didn’t help. The steam was already working its magic and he could feel his congestion loosening. He started sniffling like crazy: a constant wet sound that was kind of ruining the mood. Meanwhile Harrison was standing there like some sort of Greek God under the water. 

So he just let Harrison lead. He surrendered to it, trusting that Harrison knew what he was doing. And for once in his life, it felt surprisingly good to just let go. 

Then he felt it. That familiar, dreaded tickle. Fuckkk. The steam was really messing with him. He could feel his nostrils flaring as the delicate membranes quivered. A mortifying thought struck him: this phase of his cold was always messy. He turned away and quickly clamped his fingers over his flaring nostrils.

“N’gkxt! K—nxt! Nggt!...Nxt!..K—mpht!..Ngxt!”

The sneezes ripped out of him in a muffled rapid set. His nostrils trembled and flared against the pressure of his own hand and he felt the wet warmth leak a little from between his fingers. So gross. He quickly pinched and wiped the mess away as his face burned.

“Bless you,” Harrison said. He seemed completely unfazed. He turned Sawyer’s face toward him and raised an eyebrow. “I can make you feel better.”

And then Harrison’s hand wrapped around his hard dick and he began stroking him slowly with finesse. Sawyer gasped as his head fell back against the tiled wall. Pleasure shot through him and he was lost in the feeling of Harrison’s hand on him. Harrison knew exactly what he was doing. His thumb brushed over the sensitive head in a way that made Sawyer’s entire body jolt. 

Sawyer turned and his hand found Harrison’s cock to return the favor. It felt hot and heavy in his palm. He’d never done this before to another guy. So he tried to do what he himself liked: a firm grip and a steady rhythm. 

Harrison let out a low groan.

Okay. That was good. Sawyer picked up the pace. He felt a little clumsy but the way Harrison was breathing with the little choked off sounds he was making told him he was doing something right. Harrison’s hips began to thrust more urgently into Sawyer’s grip. Seeing Harrison losing his perfect composure and control was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Sawyer was the one making Harrison Whitaker fall apart. And that thought alone was enough to make his dick twitch.

Sawyer turned his head and captured Harrison’s lips in a hungry kiss. It was sloppy and desperate but it was exactly what Sawyer needed. When they finally broke apart, Harrison’s eyes were dark with arousal. He brushed a wet strand of hair back from Sawyer’s forehead. “Bedroom?” he suggested roughly with desire. But then he paused and searched Sawyer’s face. “Only if you want to. We don’t have to.”

Sawyer was throbbing with need and his heart was hammering against his ribs. His whole body was screaming yes even but his brain was slightly hesitant. He was new to all of this and he was probably going to be bad at it. But looking at Harrison and the raw want in his eyes along with the gentle concern underneath it, Sawyer made a decision. Fuck it. He didn’t want to think anymore. He was tired of being in control.

“Yeah,” Sawyer breathed out. “I want to.”

They fell onto the sheets in a tangle of limbs and wet hair with Harrison on top of him. Harrison’s hands were everywhere, and they knew exactly what the fuck they were doing. He maneuvered Sawyer until he was on his stomach with his face turned to the side on the cool pillows. Sawyer’s stomach did a nervous excited flip.

Sawyer felt Harrison shift and heard the snap of a lube cap. A moment later a slick finger traced and circled his entrance with infuriating discipline. Sawyer let out a groan as he pushed back, silently begging for more.

“Patience,” Harrison murmured against Sawyer’s back. He pressed a line of kisses along Sawyer’s spine as he worked him open carefully. It was gentle and softer than Sawyer expected. It was affecting him in a way his past frantic hookups never had. He was still nervous as hell, but that feeling was being pushed aside by a warmth that was building everywhere.

By the time Harrison was lining himself up, Sawyer was a mess of need and rock hard against the mattress. “Harrison,” he breathed in a desperate plea. He heard the crinkle of the condom foil and then Harrison answered by slowly pushing into him.

The initial stretch was surprising but not as painful as Sawyer would have guessed. Harrison held still and gave him a moment to adjust. His hand stroked soothingly up and down Sawyer’s back. “This okay?” he murmured.

Sawyer nodded. It was more than okay. As Harrison started to move, the burning faded into an enjoyable ache that built with every thrust. Everything in his head finally went quiet, leaving only the feeling of Harrison inside him.

It was perfect. 

Harrison’s hands gripped his hips and held him steady as he slowly picked up the speed. The room was filled with the desperate pleased sounds Sawyer was making without even realizing it. Harrison’s movements in response became more powerful and deliberate. Harrison shifted his angle slightly and the next thrust hit him just right. “Fuck, right there,” Sawyer gasped. Harrison obliged and hit that spot again and again until Sawyer was seeing stars behind his eyes. 

And then he felt a faint tickle high up in his nose.

At first he tried to ignore it. He was so close and he refused to let his stupid body ruin this. But the tickle was an aggressive crawl that started deep behind his eyes and burrowed into his sinuses. His tender and inflamed nostrils began to twitch and flare.

Panic surged in his chest. Not now. Oh, god, not now!

“Harrison,” he gasped. His voice was tight with a new kind of desperation. “Wait!”

Harrison stilled instantly. “What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?”

Sawyer shook his head. “No, I…I need to sneeze!!”

The words were barely out of his mouth before his breath started hitching in a series of frantic helpless gasps. “Hih..hah…..HHH..haaaaah..!!!”

Harrison’s hands tightened on his hips but he didn’t stop or pull away. Instead he leaned down as his lips brushed Sawyer’s ear. “It’s okay,” he murmured soothingly. “Don’t fight it. Let it out. ”

That was all it took.

“Hih-t’shhIEW! Hih’ktsh! ih’tschh! Ih’tschh! Hh’ksh!—ksh!—ih’ksh!”

With each explosive release, his body clenched and jerked around Harrison in a series of involuntary spasms. He heard Harrison let out a surprised gasp of pleasure that sent a shock wave through Sawyer’s already overstimulated system.

The fit finally subsided and left Sawyer sniffling like crazy. He was glad his face was turned away so that Harrison couldn’t see the mess he’d become. He felt stupid and ridiculous. 

But Harrison was still hard inside him breathing heavily against his back. “Jesus Christ, Sawyer,” he breathed thickly with awe. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot that felt?”

Sawyer just shook his head. His throat was too tight to form a response. He felt Harrison’s hand slide from his hip to his stomach before wrapping around his aching cock.

“Come on,” Harrison urged in a seductive command. “Let’s get you back there.” He began to stroke him in time with his thrusts: slow and steady at first, then faster and more demanding.

Sawyer’s body was buzzing with a mix of bliss and post-sneeze exhaustion and it responded instantly. He could feel the pressure building up. But just as he was about to tip over the edge he felt it again. Another tickle. This one was deeper and more insistent. Sawyer was caught between two sensations and both of them were rolling to an impossible peak. 

“Fuck,” he gasped as his voice cracked. “Hiih...Harrison..hh..I’b godda..I’b godda..”

“Let it happen,” Harrison growled. His thrusts were becoming harder and more erratic. “Just let it happen Sawyer. Come for me.”

Sawyer’s nostrils were flaring wide and panicked and he reared his head back as his body arched with the force of the two impending explosions. The pleasure spiked and at the exact same moment the tickle in his nose erupted.

“Hih’KSSHH! Hh’NGKXT’tshh! “Hih…KSSHH!—ngk’tshh!—ihh’kshoo! Hih’KSSHH! Ksshh! H’gshhuh!”

The sneezes burst out of him. Each one was joined by a spasm of ecstasy as his orgasm rolled through him. Harrison followed him a moment later. His own release was a shuddering groan against Sawyer’s back. 

Sawyer lay there panting. He’d never experienced anything like that in his life. He felt the bed dip as Harrison moved then heard the rustle of a tissue box. A moment later, a gentle hand was on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Harrison said softly. “Look at me.”

Sawyer opened his eyes. Harrison was kneeling beside him. His expression was soft and open. He held out a tissue and Sawyer took it and blew. The sound was louder than he would have liked. But the force of the blow seemed to do the opposite of what he intended. Instead of clearing things out, it just irritated his sinuses. His eyes widened in disbelief.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered as he quickly fumbled for another tissue.

“Hih..KSSHH!—ngk’tshh!—ihh’kshoo! Ksshh! H’gshhuh!”

“Damn,” Harrison remarked. His voice was a mix of awe and amusement. “I’ve never seen anyone sneeze so much from a cold.”

Sawyer shot him a glare. “Well, at least I’m not blowing out anyone’s eardrum,” he retorted.

But Harrison just laughed and took the used tissue from Sawyer’s hand and tossed it towards the trash can before leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t be embarrassed. That was incredible.”

Sawyer just stared at him. “Incredible?” he finally managed to croak. “Dude, I just sneezed all over your bed while you were inside me. How is that incredible?”

Harrison laughed. “Because it was you.” The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over Harrison’s features which eased the sharp lines of his face and highlighted the genuine affection in his eyes. “It was real. A little gross, yeah, but it was 100% you. And I happen to be a big fan of that version.”

Sawyer felt his face get hot. He wanted to deflect with a joke but he couldn’t find the words. Harrison was looking at him with an openness that was disarming and all Sawyer could do was stare back.

Harrison reached out. His fingers gently traced Sawyer’s face. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Sawyer rasped thickly. “Just wiped out. And sticky.” He gestured vaguely at himself.

“Let me get that,” Harrison said as he swung his legs off the bed. He stood up completely unconcerned with his own nakedness and disappeared into the bathroom. Sawyer watched him go, appreciating the view. He looked unfairly composed for someone who’d just rocked Sawyer’s entire world. And here he was, taking care of Sawyer’s sneezy, post-sex self. 

Harrison returned clothed with a warm damp washcloth and a glass of water.  “Here,” Harrison said as he handed him the glass. “Drink. You’re probably dehydrated from all the...expulsions.”

Sawyer managed a weak smile and took the glass. “Thanks,” he said a little clearer now. He grabbed his boxers and shirt and pulled them back on.

-- NSFW Section Ends --

Harrison took the glass back and set it aside. He didn’t suggest Sawyer leave. Instead, he stretched out beside him again. Everything smelled warm and clean and distinctly Harrison. Sawyer turned onto his side to face him. He felt Harrison’s arm wrap around his waist pulling him closer until their foreheads were nearly touching.

“Stay tonight?” Harrison asked tentatively.

Sawyer’s breath hitched. God, he wanted to. But the thought of crossing that line from whatever this was into something more was terrifying. But he heard himself saying:

“Yeah, okay.”

Harrison’s smile widened. “Good,” he murmured. “Let me know if you need any more cold medicine.” He then sighed and examined his wrist. “Tomorrow’s away game is gonna fucking suck.” 

Sawyer leaned his head back at Harrison. He looked so tired but he was here with him, worrying about Sawyer’s stupid cold when he had a million other things to worry about. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he was talking about the season, Harrison’s playoff injuries or just everything.

Harrison closed his eyes briefly. “Yeah,” he whispered, though he didn’t sound fully convinced. He chewed his lip then forced it into a smile. “Don’t worry about me. I always figure it out.”

Sawyer swallowed hard. Harrison said it so casually like he could carry everything forever if he just ignored the pain long enough. Sawyer couldn’t let himself worry about any of that right now though. Tomorrow or the rest of the playoff season could be a fucking disaster. But tonight he was right here. And that felt like more than enough.

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Link to Chapter 10 is: Here

[sneezysubbyboi]

we all talk about sneezes that signal the start of a cold, but what about sneezes that foretell the end of one? Like one morning the sickie sneezes and their partner’s like “ha, now those are the sneezes that i’m used to” or “oh sounds like your congestion’s finally gone down” or “hey, your voice doesn’t sound so hoarse now”. The sickie is sheepishly embarrassed but mildly touched by how much their partner has paid attention to their sneezes enough to tell the difference <3