Work Text:
He wakes up too early as usual, warm, strong arms cradling him lovingly, the person next to him deep in slumber as usual and he climbs out of bed as discreetly as he can, trying to give his lover a few more hours of well deserved sleep.
He looks around, searching for clothes to wear out of bed and finds a black hoodie that loosely covers his frame, the garment that belongs to his companion being a couple of sizes too big but its smell soothes him and gives him comfort in this ungodly hour.
He walks to the kitchen and kicks-starts the coffee maker, reveling on its humming sound filling the empty walls of his apartment, a sudden wave of longing hits him and nostalgia worms its way on his heart, how much he misses home.
At this hour, his mother would have been long time awake, coffee and toast already waiting on the table an opener to the delicious food that she would have surely been making, she would greet him warmly and inform him of his duties for the day, joking at his dislike of dirtying his hands probably.
Then his brother would come down, energetically patting his back as a salute and stealing something out of the fridge of the kitchen earning him a scolding courtesy of his mother about the vice of gluttony, he would probably shrug and start talking animatedly about some exciting thing he has to do.
He would probably just sit there, in silence. Saying nothing but enjoying the comfort that comes from his family mere presence, the warmth of home sweet home. Is not that he is lonely right now, but he can´t put his finger on why does it affect him at such a time.
He walks down and puts some buttered bread on the toaster, and starts mixing the eggs for an omelet, fond memories of his home racing through his mind like an indomitable horse, resisting to be tamed and it is not as if he wants to tame them, he lets them wash over him, feeding his nostalgia but putting him on great mood.
He is so engrossed on thinking that he only reacts when a pair of loving arms wrap around his waist, a strong bare chest pressed flush against his back. Out of reflex he tenses, but he melts to the touch when a pair of lips presses to the back of his head and the other nuzzles his neck.
-Why do you have to wake so early Rileykins? - Chase´s voice is rough with sleep but he shivers when warm breath ghosts across his skin.
-I don’t wake up early Hotshot, you just wake up late- he murmurs, craning his neck to press a kiss to the other´s cheek, earning him a humming noise that reverberates all over his body because of the proximity- I miss my home- he mutters, perhaps hoping that the older would not hear him.
-I don’t-the other replies shortly- you are my home now- comes a heartbeat later. His breath hitches in his throat, because how could he have not thought about it this way? Sure Matt and his mom are irreplaceable but his friends are too, Chase is his first (and hopefully last) love for crying out loud.
He realizes it now. How could he just go back to his country house and forget about everything? The answer is simple: he could not.
He could not live without Tyler´s obsession with selfies and happy-go-lucky persona that is just so heartwarming that you can´t just let him out of your heart. He could not live either without Shelby´s stubbornness and iron will and incessantly teasing about his love for the resident Kiwi. Without Koda´s protective tendencies and childish behavior that though annoying sometimes never fails to put a smile on his face. How could he forget about Kendall and her mentoring skills, her way of sternly teaching them even when they don’t want to learn anything?
And Chase, his boyfriend (it is still surprising to be able to call the teen heartthrob his boyfriend) the one who lights his day just by smiling at him, the one who holds him close when he is scared, or hurt or simply needs comfort. The person that keeps him going, that gives him so much strength to fight through all the hardships that life throws at them. The one that has wormed his way so deep in his heart that it terrifies him to ever thinking of letting him go.
Perhaps, even without being in his house, he is at home. He can let himself have two homes. And how luckier could he get?
-You are right Chase- he turns around and kisses the other softly- It sounds so weird to say it- he mutters mockingly, relishing in the gasps that comes from the other and turning his attention back to the things he is cooking.
He surely is not on his house, but he always carries his home on his heart.