His Basement, His Office - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
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Maxwell sighed. Whatever—pursuing this wasn't worth the effort.
After doing the dishes, I plopped onto the couch to watch some trashy TV drama. Maxwell settled beside me, eyeing the saccharine romantic plot with visible disdain.
"Seriously?" His expression said it all. "This is what you're into?"
I yawned, then did a double-take at my watch. "Holy crap, it's almost midnight?!" Rubbing my eyes, I blinked at the time like it had personally betrayed me.
Maxwell smirked at my dumbfounded reaction.
"Uh…" I scratched my head. "I've got a guest room if you want to crash here. It's pretty late."
He agreed—until I opened the guest room door. Bare mattress. Right. I'd stripped the sheets last week.
My face fell. "So…" I forced a grin that probably looked more like a grimace. "Would you mind sharing my bed? Just if you're cool with it—"
"Okay."
His instant reply caught me off guard. Before I could process it, I was numbly leading him to my bedroom. Thank god for the queen-sized bed—plenty of space for two grown men.
We lay back-to-back. Just as sleep started pulling me under, Maxwell spoke:
"I still don't know your name."
I smacked my lips. "Caleb."
He tested the name quietly. "Alright. Goodnight, Caleb."
But I was already gone.
The dream felt different this time.
The man facing me wore Maxwell's face—same sharp features, same annoyed crease between his brows. "Caleb?"
I froze. This wasn't like before.
"Are you… Maxwell?" The question sounded absurd even as I asked it.
He nodded. "Yeah."
"Prove it."
Calmly, he listed: "You made me tomato egg noodles. I washed the bowl. We watched that terrible drama till midnight. Now I'm in your bed."
"Okay, okay! I believe you!" My cheeks burned.
Glancing around the strange space, I asked, "Where even is this?"
Maxwell rubbed his chin. "Parallel universe, maybe. Dreams are the only bridge. You remember the other dreams, right?"
I hesitated. "Was that… you those times?"
"First time, yes. Second time?" He raised an eyebrow. "I was just watching."
My entire face went scarlet. "You saw everything?"
"Every second."
I wanted to vanish.
Maxwell added, "But last night—nothing. Slept straight through."
That sealed it. Not a suspect anymore.
"You seemed to enjoy being held," Maxwell teased, watching me squirm.
My ears burned. "…Hugs are nice," I mumbled.
He flicked my earlobe. "Wanna try?"
My brain short-circuited, conjuring wildly inappropriate scenarios.
"Try what?" (Play it cool, Caleb. Play. It. Cool.)
"Just hugging." His eyes glinted. "Unless you were thinking something else?"
"No! Obviously not!" My voice cracked.
The basement air felt thick. I swallowed. "So…?"
Now he looked flustered too, Adam's apple bobbing. "Yeah."
His arms wrapped around me gently. I nestled against his neck, my shallow breaths warming his skin.
"Tighter?" I whispered.
Maxwell's grip intensified—bodies pressed close, heartbeats syncing. I sighed, melting into him.
This. This was it. The safety, the warmth, the feeling of being cherished.
6:30 AM. Alarm blaring. Maxwell's side of the bed: empty.
After brushing my teeth, I trudged downstairs—and froze.
Steaming congee. Side dishes. Maxwell emerging from the kitchen.
"You're up." He smirked. "Was about to wake you."
"I thought you left," I blurted.
He flicked my forehead. "Eat. I'll clean up, then drive you to work."
Tearing up over the congee: "You're amazing."
Maxwell deadpanned: "Shut up and eat."
Post-breakfast, as he washed dishes, I plotted. Could I make him my roommate? Hot, six-pack, cooks—total package.
In the car, seatbelt clicked, I fidgeted.
Maxwell didn't even glance over. "Spit it out."
Deep breath. "Can we… keep doing the hugging thing? Every night?"
Steering wheel grip tightened. "Why?"
"Feels good," I mumbled to my lap.
Silence. We reached the office.
"…You forgot something," I ventured.
Pausing mid-seatbelt, he fixed me with a look. Just as I braced for rejection—
"Come here."
I practically launched at him.
And so it began. Daily embraces. Slowly, something shifted.
Where Maxwell once saw me as an amusing pet, now?
Now he was the one falling. Hard.
After doing the dishes, I plopped onto the couch to watch some trashy TV drama. Maxwell settled beside me, eyeing the saccharine romantic plot with visible disdain.
"Seriously?" His expression said it all. "This is what you're into?"
I yawned, then did a double-take at my watch. "Holy crap, it's almost midnight?!" Rubbing my eyes, I blinked at the time like it had personally betrayed me.
Maxwell smirked at my dumbfounded reaction.
"Uh…" I scratched my head. "I've got a guest room if you want to crash here. It's pretty late."
He agreed—until I opened the guest room door. Bare mattress. Right. I'd stripped the sheets last week.
My face fell. "So…" I forced a grin that probably looked more like a grimace. "Would you mind sharing my bed? Just if you're cool with it—"
"Okay."
His instant reply caught me off guard. Before I could process it, I was numbly leading him to my bedroom. Thank god for the queen-sized bed—plenty of space for two grown men.
We lay back-to-back. Just as sleep started pulling me under, Maxwell spoke:
"I still don't know your name."
I smacked my lips. "Caleb."
He tested the name quietly. "Alright. Goodnight, Caleb."
But I was already gone.
The dream felt different this time.
The man facing me wore Maxwell's face—same sharp features, same annoyed crease between his brows. "Caleb?"
I froze. This wasn't like before.
"Are you… Maxwell?" The question sounded absurd even as I asked it.
He nodded. "Yeah."
"Prove it."
Calmly, he listed: "You made me tomato egg noodles. I washed the bowl. We watched that terrible drama till midnight. Now I'm in your bed."
"Okay, okay! I believe you!" My cheeks burned.
Glancing around the strange space, I asked, "Where even is this?"
Maxwell rubbed his chin. "Parallel universe, maybe. Dreams are the only bridge. You remember the other dreams, right?"
I hesitated. "Was that… you those times?"
"First time, yes. Second time?" He raised an eyebrow. "I was just watching."
My entire face went scarlet. "You saw everything?"
"Every second."
I wanted to vanish.
Maxwell added, "But last night—nothing. Slept straight through."
That sealed it. Not a suspect anymore.
"You seemed to enjoy being held," Maxwell teased, watching me squirm.
My ears burned. "…Hugs are nice," I mumbled.
He flicked my earlobe. "Wanna try?"
My brain short-circuited, conjuring wildly inappropriate scenarios.
"Try what?" (Play it cool, Caleb. Play. It. Cool.)
"Just hugging." His eyes glinted. "Unless you were thinking something else?"
"No! Obviously not!" My voice cracked.
The basement air felt thick. I swallowed. "So…?"
Now he looked flustered too, Adam's apple bobbing. "Yeah."
His arms wrapped around me gently. I nestled against his neck, my shallow breaths warming his skin.
"Tighter?" I whispered.
Maxwell's grip intensified—bodies pressed close, heartbeats syncing. I sighed, melting into him.
This. This was it. The safety, the warmth, the feeling of being cherished.
6:30 AM. Alarm blaring. Maxwell's side of the bed: empty.
After brushing my teeth, I trudged downstairs—and froze.
Steaming congee. Side dishes. Maxwell emerging from the kitchen.
"You're up." He smirked. "Was about to wake you."
"I thought you left," I blurted.
He flicked my forehead. "Eat. I'll clean up, then drive you to work."
Tearing up over the congee: "You're amazing."
Maxwell deadpanned: "Shut up and eat."
Post-breakfast, as he washed dishes, I plotted. Could I make him my roommate? Hot, six-pack, cooks—total package.
In the car, seatbelt clicked, I fidgeted.
Maxwell didn't even glance over. "Spit it out."
Deep breath. "Can we… keep doing the hugging thing? Every night?"
Steering wheel grip tightened. "Why?"
"Feels good," I mumbled to my lap.
Silence. We reached the office.
"…You forgot something," I ventured.
Pausing mid-seatbelt, he fixed me with a look. Just as I braced for rejection—
"Come here."
I practically launched at him.
And so it began. Daily embraces. Slowly, something shifted.
Where Maxwell once saw me as an amusing pet, now?
Now he was the one falling. Hard.
End of His Basement, His Office Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to His Basement, His Office book page.