Wash 21

His fingers fumbled with the wet fabric,

his stomach twisting—when was the last time he ate?

Teddy paused.

He’s sweating.

Something feels, WRONG.

The room swayed slightly, or maybe that was just him.

He blinked hard.

The pile of clothes blurred together.

His hands were trembling, soap suds clinging to his skin like ghosts of a life

that suddenly felt too heavy to hold.

Teddy got up, soap suds slipped down his forearms,

he stared at his fingers pruned from hours washing.

A big sigh.

He’s behind with the laundry orders.

And knowing his customers, little stuffs upsets them.

Like their dried and neatly folded laundry,

delivered-late.

Unforgivable.

He’d been washing clothes since morning,

lost in the rhythmic wringing and rinsing,

the damp weight of fabric grounding him when nothing else did.

The air smelled of detergent and damp cotton,

the fluorescent light above humming like a mosquito

drawn to the light in the silence of the evening.

His eyes drifted to the far corner of the room—

There, perched on top of a stack of neatly folded shirts,

was Sylvia’s designer jacket.

UNTOUCHED.

Still tucked inside its crisp boutique paper bag,

its edges slightly crumpled, as if it had been waiting.

Waiting for someone who wasn’t coming back.

A sharp breath hitched in Teddy’s throat.

It was so sharp,

it HURTS.

The last time he saw that jacket,

he was shoving it back at the store clerk,

while mentally spitting accusations on his mom:

Thief.

Liar.

And yet-

The clerk had simply shaken her head, held out the bag.

back to him.

She didn’t steal it. She paid for it.

With what?

His stomach twisted.

The weight of his own words coiled around his ribs like a vice-

internally grinding him.

squeezing whatever juice was left on him-

down to the last drop.

And now, that jacket sat there,

a silent, useless thing,

pressing down on a pile of laundry—

A PAPERWEIGHT.

Keeping his world in place, while Sylvia, his mom,

his world——- was gone.

Lost. Alone.

Somewhere deep in the Guatemalan jungle.

With a cartel. No, she said she’s the Cartel.

With a stranger.

With God-knows-what dangers waiting in the dark.

And him?

He was here.

Staring at a jacket that meant nothing—

tonight that jacket is a reminder of what was lost,

his mom.

his EVERYTHING.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Where was she sleeping tonight?

The image formed against his will:

Sylvia curled up on a makeshift bed of jungle leaves,

the night pressing in on her,

foreign insects chirping,

danger lurking in the shadows.

Was she cold? Was she safe?

But she has a gun.

He heard her fire it with her maniacal laugh afterwards.

Was this really her plan

Was this really her choice

To LEAVE.

To DITCH HIM.

To be the CARTEL.

For WHAT?

Teddy swallowed hard and checked his phone.

No missed calls.

No texts, not that it matters, he can’t read them anyway.

He fucking can’t read anything.

The clock blinked 1:47 AM.

He’s tired. It’s late.

Long and exhausting day.

Across the street, behind sheer curtains,

Drew’s light was still on.

A warm silhouette against the night.

A silent reminder that someone at this unholy hour of the night

is still AWAKE.

Teddy exhaled, set the damp shirt down,

he scaled the place,

looking for his half empty bottle of water-

And then—

“Teddy?”

He blinked.

Drew was in front of HIM.

Somewhere between his rooftop apartment, buckets of wet laundry

and now, right at this moment,

right in front of Drew.

Something happened.

he had lost time.

He Lost control.

Teddy swayed, his body tipping forward before he even realized it.

Had he gone downstairs?

Rushed to the parallel building, Drew’s.

Did he knocked?

Drew caught him—one strong arm curling around his waist,

the other cradling the back of his head.

Teddy's breath hitched against Drew’s neck,

his fingers gripping his shirt like

it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

Drew just held him tighter,

his own breath shaky now.

‘I got you, Teddy. I got you.’

His clothes were still damp, his hands shaking.

Drew’s brow furrowed. “You’re all wet—what happened?”

Something inside Teddy cracked as Drew guided him inside,

straight to his BED.

There they sat.

His head fell on Drew’s shoulder.

His chest caved, his breath caught,

and suddenly the words were spilling out before he could stop them.

The storm just rushed out.

“Was it me, Drew?

Why did she leave?

What did I do wrong?

Did my mom left…because,

because of……me?”

Drew didn’t hesitate.

He grabbed a towel by the floor,

dried Teddy’s hair,

and wrapped it around his shoulders,

as he pulled him close,

keeping him- WARM.

“It’s not you. It’s never you,

Don’t ever think it’s you TEDDY

Because it’s not—-.”

Teddy let out a breathless laugh, raw and bitter.

“I tried, Drew.

I gave her everything.

Every damn thing she wanted,

I worked since I was eight,

bleaching and washing

but NO laundry in the world will ever be enough,

NOTHING was EVER enough.

There’s always something she needs,

There’s always something she wants,

And most of the time, that something

is always out of reach.

Life is always attached to a price tag.

BUT I always believe that everything in life,

almost everything can be bought.

except….EXCEPT

LOVE.

Except her.

I am buying her love Drew.

I bought her love. For years.

For——forever.

I bribe people, paid them to be her boyfriends,

so she’s distracted,

so she stays.

Because she’s my mother,

I’m her SON Drew.

And mothers….and mothers,

they stay with their SONS.

They never leave.

They never forget.

How can you leave, how can you forget,

the SON you carried on your gut—-

for months,

What kind of mother will forget

the SON she gave birth to?

What kind of mother will leave

the SON who gave her-EVERYTHING.

Apparently there’s one.

Sylvia.

My mom.”

Drew’s grip on him tightened. “Teddy—”

I don’t know what to say, but I want

you to know— that, I feel you.”

Drew’s voice was breaking now.

“When you first slip on my arm, remember—that afternoon?

I said to myself, I wish he’ll stay a little second more, here

in my arms. HERE with me.

Because Teddy, with you,

time stands—-still.”

Drew hug Teddy as he felt his whole body trembling.

“Should I be scared for her? Angry?

Should I be grateful that she finally left?

With that, all the pressures

and the endless needs, also left with her?

Or should I be waiting for the inevitable—because, Drew,

I know how this will- end.

A headline. A call. A visit.

Someone will contact me.

Someone I don’t even know.

I doubt, she even knew.

And that person will deliver the final blow.

My mom.

Sylvia.

Dead.

ALONE.

in that Guatemalan jungle.

Drew hesitated, searching for words,

but Teddy shook his head.

“No, don’t—don’t tell me everything will be okay.

I don’t need that. I just need you to

be here, for me—”

Drew sighed.

“I am here for you Teddy. Always.”

A tear drop from Teddy’s eye.

Followed by another tear.

“Okay, if you don’t want me to say

that everything will be ok,

Then I’ll say this—sometimes, life doesn’t give us a choice.

We just have to survive the storm and trust that it’ll pass.

TEDDY- All storms passes. They don’t linger.

They don’t stay. Even if they want to

the laws of nature just won’t let it,

that’s just how things work in life.”

Teddy nodded absently, his breath still uneven.

The towel around his shoulders was slipping.

His fingers curled into the fabric of Drew’s shirt, as if anchoring himself.

Drew felt a certain heat coming from Teddy.

Heat that travels quickly

straight to his heart.

And then—

Teddy kissed him.

It was slow at first, tentative,

but then something inside Teddy snapped.

The need for comfort, for warmth, for anything

this crushing emptiness overtook him.

He wanted Drew.

He wanted it right now, right there.

It rained.

The rain had started as a whisper,

a soft pattering against the windowpane,

but now it fell in heavy sheets, turning the city into a blur of streetlights and shadows.

Inside the dimly lit apartment, Teddy stood and walked by the window,

arms wrapped around himself,

his mind tangled in a thousand thoughts.

Behind him, the weight of Drew’s presence was unmistakable.

Neither of them spoke.

The silence between them stretched,

thick and charged, like the space between a lightning strike and its thunder.

The air held a heaviness, the kind that teetered on the edge of something unspoken,

something dangerously close to unraveling.

Drew was standing close—too close.

Teddy could feel the heat of him,

the way his presence seemed to demand attention without a single word.

“Teddy,” Drew finally said, his voice a low rasp, as if speaking cost him something.

Teddy exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening against the cold glass.

“Don’t.” It wasn’t a plea, but a warning. Or maybe a defense.

Drew moved anyway. He always did.

The brush of his fingers against Teddy’s wrist

was barely a touch, a fleeting hesitation,

but it sent a tremor through Teddy’s spine.

He should have pulled away.

He should have turned, laughed it off, said something

sharp and dismissive.

But he didn’t. Instead, he stayed still, watching the rain,

letting the warmth of Drew’s fingertips seep

into his skin like an unspoken confession.

“You always do this,” Teddy murmured, his voice barely audible over the rain.

Drew’s breath ghosted against the back of his neck. “Do what?”

Teddy swallowed hard, his pulse betraying him.

“Tease me. Make me want things I shouldn’t.”

A sharp inhale from Drew,

followed by the quiet sound of fabric shifting as he moved even closer.

Teddy could feel the tension vibrating between them,

the space narrowing into something almost unbearable.

When Drew finally spoke again, his voice was thick with something

raw, something that made Teddy’s stomach clench.

“And what if I said I want them too?”

Teddy finally turned. Slowly.

His eyes met Drew’s, and in that moment,

everything—every excuse, every carefully constructed wall—crumbled.

Drew’s gaze was dark and searching, his jaw tight, his lips parted

as if he was holding back something that was already slipping through his fingers.

The rain roared against the windows, drowning out the sound of Teddy’s pulse

hammering in his ears.

Drew lifted a hand, fingertips tracing along Teddy’s jaw,

a touch so painfully reverent that it made Teddy’s breath catch.

He didn’t know who moved first—maybe it didn’t matter.

All he knew was that when their lips met,

it wasn’t desperate or rushed. It was slow.

Deliberate.

Drew kissed him like he was memorizing the moment,

like that’s the only thing that matters.

Teddy.

is.

now.

his.

world.

Tears forms on Teddy’s eyes as Drew continues to kiss him.

The rain stops. And so is his tears.

Replaced by something more powerful.

LOVE.

And across the street, in Teddy’s rooftop apartment, Cliff stood frozen.

He saw EVERYTHING.

The air felt wrong.

Too thick. Too HEAVY.

Cliff's chest clenched—an unbearable pressure,

like a hand was gripping his ribs and squeezing,

trying to crush his stupid heart,

fragile and vulnerable to Teddy.

His knees buckled, and before he knew it, he was sitting.

At Teddy’s bed, without Teddy.

Because right now,

that Teddy is on somebody else’s bed.

Drew’s.

He didn’t even remember sinking down.

The bouquet of roses slipped from his hand,

petals scattering across the cold wet floor.

Petals crushed beneath his tightening grip.

He pressed his palm to his heart,

as if that could stop the ache—this horrible,

twisting, breath-stealing ache that made him want to scream,

or throw something, or disappear entirely.

He was here because he missed Teddy.

He knew it was late.

But sleep wouldn’t come—not when

his thoughts kept circling back to him.

So he rushed over, clutching overpriced flowers,

the price of waking the grumpy florist downstairs at this hour.

One thing he hoped Teddy would notice

about him—really notice—was that beneath the sharp

edges and the easy charm, Cliff was, at heart, a romantic.

People saw the quick wit, the man who never lingered too long,

always moving, always looking for the next thing.

But the truth was, he wasn’t reckless with his heart.

He was careful.

An investor.

Every move had to be measured, because every decision set off a chain reaction.

But here, now, sitting on Teddy’s bed, none of that seemed to matter.

He just wanted Teddy to see him for who he really

was—A man who believed in the simple things.

Like showing up.

Like giving flowers to someone he loves.

Tonight he hope to see Teddy’s smile.

He wanted to surprise him.

Instead, he found this.

Teddy, undressing for Drew.

The sheer curtain barely obscuring them,

shadows moving in ways that told him everything.

Cliff called Teddy.

“Hello, Cliff?” Cliff sighed, “Teddy, I know it’s late, are you already sleeping,

‘cause I wanted…to see you. Can I stop by?”

From the other line, across the street, Teddy hesitated.

“Uh…Cliff…I mean…”

Cliff knew what was happening.

Drew down on his knees.

He has Teddy.

Did he always had Teddy?

Was it always him?

But those feelings, those emotions, those love,

at the center of the Conference table,

those are REAL. They feel REAL.

Or was it just him?

Thinking. Feeling.

That everything was real.

“Cliff, I’m kinda….sleepy right now. Maybe we can meet up,

tomorrow, evening? Will that work?”

“Ok, I’ll pick you up.”

Cliff stared across the building, straight in Drew’s window.

Teddy did not even bother to say good night.

How can he?

When right by his very eyes,

Drew is on top of Teddy.

Drilling him.

Taking him to places that only he can take him.

What’s going on with him.

What did Teddy got on him.

Cliff exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to his chest.

It HURTS AGAIN.

His phone rings.

A familiar voice.

Cliff nods.

Phone back to his pocket.

He took one more shot at

Drew’s apartment.

They’re still going at it.

He stepped outside and gently closed Teddy’s door.

A tear slipped from one eye.

Then another.

His breath hitched, his heart hammering in his ribs,

and before he could stop himself,

he whispered into the empty hallway:

“Oh, Teddy… what happenned to us?

why do we have to hurt each other?”