Chapter 6

One Friday evening, long after the sun had disappeared behind the buildings surrounding campus, a knock echoed through Santa’s dorm room.

He looked up from his notes immediately, confused. He wasn’t expecting anyone. For a second, he simply stared at the door before finally getting up and opening it.

Perth stood outside looking noticeably exhausted. His hair was still messy from practice, slightly damp at the roots, and a sports bag hung loosely from one shoulder while he carried a plastic takeout bag in the other hand.

“I brought dinner,” he said casually, as if that explained why he had shown up unannounced.

Santa blinked. “…You didn’t say you were coming.”

“I know. I just wanted to see you.”

Perth stepped inside before Santa could say anything else, already comfortable enough in the room to act like he belonged there. He dropped his gym bag near the chair and set the food down on the desk.

Santa closed the door slowly behind him.

Something about Perth felt different tonight. Usually, even after practice, he still carried the same restless energy, always teasing, talking, moving around too much. Tonight, though, he looked drained.

“Practice was bad?” Santa asked quietly.

Perth rubbed a hand over the back of his neck before nodding once. “Coach kept us longer.”

A brief silence settled between them. Then Perth exhaled softly and glanced toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower first.”

He had already started walking away when he paused near the door and looked back at Santa again.

“…I don’t think I can study tonight.”

Santa frowned faintly. “You have an exam soon.”

“I know.”

“Then you should probably revise instead of avoiding it.”

Perth leaned lightly against the bathroom doorway, watching him.

“I just want one quiet night,” he admitted, voice lower than usual. “With you.”

The words settled heavily in the room.

Santa didn’t answer immediately. He only gave a small nod after a few seconds. “…Okay.”

Perth held his gaze a moment longer, something unreadable softening in his expression before he disappeared into the bathroom.

Soon, the sound of running water filled the dorm room. Santa stayed where he was for a moment before eventually turning toward the food Perth had brought. As he unpacked everything, he slowly realized Perth had chosen almost entirely things Santa liked without needing to ask.

That quiet realization warmed something in his chest. His eyes drifted briefly toward the bathroom door again before he looked away.

When Perth finally came back out, his hair was damp and slightly messier than before, loose strands falling across his forehead. He had changed into comfortable clothes, and without the tension from practice weighing him down, he looked softer somehow. More relaxed.

He collapsed onto the bed with a tired sigh, stretching one arm above his head.

“Told you,” he muttered, eyes barely open. “My brain stopped functioning hours ago.”

Santa watched him for a second before sitting beside him, leaving enough space between them to pretend he was unaffected. “…We won’t study tonight. Let’s eat then.”

Perth glanced at him, a faint smile appearing immediately. “Sounds perfect.”

*

After dinner, the room settled into a comfortable calm. The empty containers sat forgotten on the desk while the soft glow from the bedside lamp filled the room with warm light. Perth had stretched out across the bed now, one arm behind his head, looking dangerously close to falling asleep.

Santa stood up after a while. “I’m going to shower.”

Perth hummed lazily in response. “Okay.”

The sound of water filled the room again, quieter this time, blending into the peaceful silence. Perth stayed sprawled across the bed, staring absentmindedly toward the ceiling, too tired to think much about anything.

Until the bathroom door opened.

He turned his head automatically, and immediately forgot how to breathe properly.

Santa stepped back into the room with damp hair clinging lightly to his forehead and neck. Tiny droplets of water still traced slowly down his skin beneath the soft light. He wore an oversized shirt and sleep shorts that were far shorter than anything Perth had seen him wear before. The shorts rode high against his thighs whenever he moved.

Perth stared before he could stop himself. His mind went completely blank for a second.

“…You’ll get cold dressed like that,” he said finally, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

Santa looked at him, visibly confused. “I’m not cold.”

Perth nodded once, still staring.

Santa narrowed his eyes slightly. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Perth blinked and dragged a hand through his hair, forcing himself to look away for a second. “Nothing.”

Santa clearly didn’t believe him.

Perth let out a quiet breath before glancing back at him again, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Just didn’t expect you to wear something like that.”

Santa frowned faintly. “…They’re comfortable.”

Perth huffed softly under his breath, amusement mixing dangerously with something else.

“Yeah,” he murmured quietly. “I figured.”

Santa still looked confused by the reaction, but he didn’t push further.

Perth’s eyes drifted back toward him again despite himself. Toward the damp strands of hair brushing Santa’s forehead. Toward the smooth skin still marked by lingering drops of water. Then he sat up slightly.

“Come here.”

Santa paused. “Why?”

Perth reached for the towel nearby and patted the space between his legs. “Your hair’s still wet.”

Santa hesitated briefly before eventually moving closer and sitting where Perth indicated, still looking slightly uncertain.

Perth unfolded the towel and gently placed it over Santa’s head before carefully drying his hair.

“You’re gonna end up sick if you leave it like this,” he murmured.

Santa’s shoulders slowly relaxed beneath the steady movement. The touch felt surprisingly gentle. “…I could’ve done it myself.”

“I know,” Perth replied easily. “But I’m already doing it now.”

The towel moved slowly through Santa’s hair while Perth’s fingers brushed lightly against his scalp every so often.

Neither of them spoke much after that. Santa eventually found himself leaning back slightly without realizing it, relaxing into the warmth behind him.

Perth noticed immediately. His movements slowed even more after that, softer now, careful not to ruin the quiet comfort settling between them.

*

A movie played quietly in the background later that night, though neither of them paid much attention to it anymore.

Perth sat against the headboard while Santa rested between his legs, leaning comfortably back against his chest.

At first, Perth genuinely tried focusing on the screen. He really did. But every small movement reminded him that Santa was right there against him, warm and relaxed in a way Perth rarely got to see.

And then there were Santa’s bare thighs. Visible every time he shifted even slightly. Perth swallowed hard.

The flickering light from the television traced softly across Santa’s skin, and before he could properly think about it, his fingers moved.

At first, it was barely anything, just a light brush against Santa’s thigh, almost accidental.

Santa went still immediately. Perth froze too, his heart jumping once in his chest as he considered pulling away. Instead, after a brief hesitation, his fingers brushed against Santa’s skin again, more deliberate this time.

A quiet breath escaped Santa.

That tiny reaction alone made Perth’s pulse quicken. Slowly, carefully, he let his hand rest properly against Santa’s thigh now, thumb moving in absent circles against warm skin.

“You stopped watching the movie,” Santa murmured after a moment, voice softer than before.

Perth leaned his head back against the wall behind him and let out a quiet laugh. “So did you.”

Santa didn’t deny it. Instead, he shifted slightly closer against him, subtle enough that most people wouldn’t notice it.

Perth definitely did. His hand paused briefly before continuing again, slower now, tracing absent patterns across Santa’s thigh while testing boundaries without saying a word.

Santa’s hand lifted and lightly rested over Perth’s wrist. Not stopping him, just holding there.

“You’re distracting me,” Santa whispered quietly.

Perth smiled against the top of his head. “That sounds like a complaint.”

“It is.”

“But you’re not moving away.”

Santa tilted his head back slightly then, enough for Perth to catch sight of the faint blush spread across his cheeks. “…I didn’t say I hated it either.”

Something about that answer completely unraveled Perth. His touch softened instinctively, steady and warm against Santa’s skin while the room seemed to grow quieter around them.

Then Santa moved first. Slowly, he turned until he was facing Perth directly. Now sitting across his lap.

Perth’s breath caught instantly.

For a second, neither of them spoke. The movie continued somewhere behind them, forgotten completely.

Santa looked at him carefully, shyness still lingering in his expression despite the steady look in his eyes. Then he lifted a hand, his fingers brushed lightly along the side of Perth’s neck.

Perth inhaled sharply. His hands settled instinctively at Santa’s waist, firm enough to hold him there without forcing anything.

Santa’s fingers slid slowly upward, disappearing into Perth’s hair while absentmindedly playing with the strands near the nape of his neck, twirling them gently, his thumb brushing against the soft skin of Perth’s neck.

The gesture was soft, tender. And somehow that affected Perth more than anything else had.

“You’re bold tonight,” Perth murmured, voice rougher now.

Santa’s lips curved slightly. “You started this.”

Perth laughed quietly under his breath, tightening his hold at Santa’s waist just a little. “Didn’t think you’d continue it.”

Santa didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze dropped briefly toward Perth’s mouth before lifting again. That tiny hesitation changed the entire atmosphere between them.

Perth’s thumb brushed lightly against Santa’s side in silent question. Santa leaned closer in response. Their faces were only inches apart now.

“You keep staring at me,” Santa whispered softly.

Perth didn’t bother denying it anymore. “Can you really blame me baby?”

Santa’s breath caught quietly at the nickname, but he still didn’t look away.

That was enough. Perth closed the remaining distance in one quick movement, kissing him hard enough to steal the air from both of them.

Everything he had been holding back poured into that single moment.

Santa froze briefly before melting into the kiss almost immediately. His fingers tightened in Perth’s hair, pulling him closer while his other hand braced against Perth’s shoulder.

The kiss deepened naturally, slower and hotter all at once.

Perth’s hands slid more firmly around Santa’s waist, fingers pressing lightly against his sides as though grounding himself in the moment.

A soft sound escaped Santa against his lips.

That sound nearly destroyed Perth’s self-control entirely. His grip tightened instinctively before easing again, adjusting immediately to Santa’s reactions, learning him little by little.

The kiss eventually slowed, but neither of them pulled far away. Their foreheads nearly touched as they stayed close together, breathing unevenly into the quiet room.

When they finally separated properly, Santa’s cheeks were flushed deep pink, lips slightly swollen, fingers still tangled in Perth’s hair.

And he stayed exactly where he was, still in Perth’s lap. Still close enough that Perth could feel every shaky breath.

Perth rested his forehead lightly against Santa’s and closed his eyes briefly. “…You’re seriously going to ruin me.”

Santa laughed softly, breathless. “Then stop looking at me like that.”

Perth opened his eyes again slowly. Santa’s earlier words echoed in his head alongside everything else happening between them.

The closeness. The heat. The fact that Santa was still sitting there like he belonged exactly where he was.

Perth’s hands remained at his waist, but hesitation crept back in beneath the desire.

“…Are you sure?” he asked quietly this time, serious now. “About this.”

Santa met his gaze immediately. There was still nervousness in his expression, still lingering blush across his cheeks, but beneath it was certainty.

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

Then Santa leaned toward the nightstand beside the bed and grabbed lube and condoms from the drawer before placing it into Perth’s hand.

Perth stared at it silently for a second before dragging a hand down his face with a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

“You really planned ahead?”

Santa smiled faintly, shy but undeniably confident too. “You’re the one who starts hesitating now.”

Perth looked back at him after that, and whatever restraint remained finally disappeared.

“Not anymore baby,” he murmured.

His hands slid back to Santa’s waist before pulling him closer again, kissing him deeply once more. Santa melted against him instantly. Their bodies fit together naturally now, every movement becoming easier than the last.

Perth broke the kiss only long enough to rest his forehead against Santa’s again. His eyes closed briefly, like he was trying to steady himself but his hands never left Santa.

“Still sure?” he whispered softly.

Santa nodded immediately, noses brushing lightly together. “Yeah.”

That was all Perth needed. He exhaled slowly, something almost like a quiet laugh slipping out, half disbelief, half surrender before tilting his head and kissing him again, gentler this time, but no less meaningful.

They moved together slowly at first, guided more by feeling than anything else, the earlier intensity softening into something deeper and more intimate. Every touch lingered, every breath shared, like they were learning each other in real time.

Perth stayed close, attentive to every small reaction, every shift, making sure Santa was with him in every moment. And Santa didn’t pull away, not once, meeting him halfway, holding on, grounding them both.

The world outside faded completely, leaving only quiet sounds, warmth, and the steady rhythm they found together.

*

Morning light slipped quietly through the curtains, painting soft patterns across the room. Perth woke up first.

For a few seconds, he didn’t move. Santa was still asleep against him, breathing slow and even, his head resting close, one arm loosely draped over Perth like he had settled there without thinking. It should’ve felt peaceful, but Perth’s mind was already elsewhere.

He stared at the ceiling, barely blinking, his thoughts running faster than he could keep up with. The warmth beside him only made it worse somehow, grounding him in something that now felt… fragile.

His gaze shifted down to Santa. There was something about seeing him like this, unguarded, trusting enough to fall asleep so easily, that made something twist in his chest. The memory of last night didn’t feel distant. It lingered in every detail, every look, every word that had meant more than he had expected.

The way Santa had looked at him.

The way he had smiled at him.

The way he had trusted him so completely.

Perth swallowed hard. His gaze slowly lowered again toward Santa’s sleeping face, and something twisted painfully in his chest at the sight of him so unguarded.

That was what made it worse. Santa had let his walls down around him without hesitation. And Perth had let things go too far before telling him the truth. Because none of this had started the way Santa believed it did. Perth exhaled slowly, careful not to wake him, but his jaw tightened anyway.

The bet.

At first, it had barely seemed serious. Just something stupid. A joke dragged too far between friends. Something easy to ignore while everything between him and Santa still felt distant and undefined.

But now? Now it felt ugly. Cruel.

Perth dragged a hand slowly through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as if it could stop the thoughts spiraling through his head.

You need to tell him.

The thought didn’t leave room for excuses. Perth looked at Santa again, his expression softening despite everything, but the weight didn’t lift.

If he stayed silent, it would only get worse, and if Santa found out another way…

His chest tightened at the thought.

“…Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, barely audible.

This wasn’t something he could push away anymore.

Sooner or later, he was going to have to tell the truth. And deep down, he wasn’t sure whether Santa would still look at him the same way afterward.

*

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur that barely felt connected to reality.

They hardly left the room. The curtains stayed half closed most of the time, sunlight slipping in and out while hours disappeared without either of them noticing. Their phones remained ignored somewhere across the room, forgotten in favor of quiet conversations, shared meals, and lazy moments spent tangled together beneath the blankets.

Sometimes they talked about random things for hours. Sometimes they stayed silent. And sometimes, they just kissed and melted into each other.

Santa seemed different too. Lighter. The tension Perth had once noticed in him so constantly had faded little by little over the past few weeks, but now it was even more obvious. He smiled more easily. Laughed more often. Leaned into Perth naturally without second-guessing himself afterward. Like somewhere along the way, he had stopped holding himself back.

And every single time Perth noticed it, guilt clawed harder at his chest. Because the happier Santa looked, the more unbearable the truth became.

It followed Perth everywhere now. In the middle of conversations, his thoughts drifted back to it. Whenever Santa smiled at him from across the room. Whenever their hands brushed together naturally. Whenever Santa looked at him with complete trust in his eyes.

Each moment felt like another opportunity to finally say something. And every single time, Perth failed.

The words would rise right to the edge of his throat before dying there completely.

He would look at Santa, at the comfort in his expression, at how safe he seemed with him now, and fear would settle heavily in Perth’s chest.

Fear of ruining everything.

Fear of seeing Santa pull away.

Fear that once the truth came out, there would be no way of fixing it.

So he kept delaying it.

Later, he told himself. After this moment. Tomorrow morning. After the weekend.

There was always another excuse waiting for him.

Another “better time.” But that moment never came.

By Sunday night, the guilt had settled so deeply inside him that it felt impossible to ignore anymore. Even breathing felt heavier.

He grew quieter without meaning to. More distracted. More absent whenever silence settled between them.

A few times, Santa glanced at him like he noticed something was off, but Perth always brushed it aside before the conversation could go further. And somehow, that made him feel even worse.

Then Monday arrived far too quickly.

——
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