Page 4 of Rivals on Lockdown

Louis jerked awake at half past eight. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, memories of whiskey making his temples throb. The power must have come back on sometime during the night—fluorescent lights hummed overhead, harsh and unforgiving.

For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was. Then he registered the warm weight pressed against him, each slow breath from Kaden fanning gently against his collarbone. Kaden was still asleep, head nestled against Louis’s chest, one hand curled loosely in the front of Louis’s thermal, their bodies huddled together under Louis’s parka for warmth. How they’d managed to get into this position during the night, Louis didn’t know—probably seeking heat in their sleep as the temperature dropped. But the sight made his breath catch, a familiar ache blooming in his chest. Kaden looked different like this, all his careful control softened by sleep, golden hair mussed and falling across his forehead, lips slightly parted. Almost peaceful, without the mask he wore.

Suddenly, the sound of keys jingling in the lock pierced the quiet of the room.

Louis looked up and held his breath, heart pounding. For a moment, nothing happened—then the door handle turned with a metallic click. The hinges creaked as the door slowly opened, and an older woman in a gray cleaning uniform stepped inside. She took one step, then stopped abruptly as she took in the scene. Her eyes drifted slowly across the room—the empty whiskey bottle lying on its side, the rum bottle nearby, protein bars scattered about, overturned benches still where they had fallen, first aid supplies strewn across the floor, and Kaden’s once-pristine silk scarf crumpled nearby, marred by dark patches of dried blood.

“Oh!” The woman exclaimed softly, her weathered face startled as her eyes landed on Louis—and then on Kaden, still asleep in his arms. Her eyebrows shot up, her surprise unmistakable.

Louis stiffened, suddenly acutely aware of how they must look—Kaden pressed close against his chest like two lovebirds sneaking away for a night of stolen intimacy in the lockers. His cheeks burned, the situation feeling almost impossible to explain.

“We got locked in here last night,” Louis offered weakly, his voice higher than it should have been, betraying his nerves. “We’ll go now,” he added quickly as if that would erase the scene entirely.

The woman gave a slow nod, her expression carefully neutral, though the flicker of polite disbelief in her eyes was hard to miss.

Louis’s chest tightened as he glanced down at Kaden. Freedom was within reach, but with it came the end of whatever fragile connection had sparked between them in the darkness. He knew it hadn’t been the real Kaden who had come onto him last night—not entirely. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that the real Kaden, the one buried beneath layers of bravado and self-defense, was too afraid to show his true emotions.

Louis didn’t want to wake him up and break that shadow of a possibility. It felt like holding onto a dream—delicate and fleeting, already slipping through his fingers as the morning light crept in. Once Kaden opened his eyes, Louis knew the moment would be gone, replaced by the sharp edges of reality.

Finally, he exhaled and reached out, his hand trembling slightly as his fingers brushed against the wrinkled fabric of Kaden’s dress shirt. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he could postpone the inevitable just a little longer.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady despite the ache in his chest. “Wake up, Kaden. We can go now.”

Kaden stirred with a soft sound, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes slowly opened. The sight of him like this made Louis forget how to breathe. He was beautiful—not just in the way people always called him, like some untouchable Adonis—but something more. Something raw, human, and painfully real.

For a few precious seconds, Kaden simply looked up at Louis, his face soft with sleep, completely unguarded. A small, dazed smile tugged at his lips as though he were still caught between the haze of dreams and reality. He blinked slowly, his gaze lingering on Louis with an openness that made Louis’s chest tighten.

But then, it was as if reality hit him all at once. Panic flickered briefly in his eyes, and color rushed to his cheeks as he jerked upright, suddenly hyper-aware of where he was and who he was with.

Louis felt a sharp jolt of regret, the weight of disappointment settling heavily in his chest as Kaden scrambled to put distance between them. He stood quickly, his movements stiff and awkward, freezing for a moment as he blinked down at the room, taking in the disarray.

“The door’s unlocked,” Louis said softly, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. He kept his eyes on Kaden, trying to ignore the bitter sting of the moment already slipping away.

Kaden nodded but still wouldn’t meet Louis’s eyes as he reached for his phone, his usual grace replaced by stiff, jerky movements. He gave the cleaning lady a quick glance before stepping over to grab his bag from the bench. His hands fumbled slightly as he picked up his coat, the flush on his ears deepening and creeping down his neck in a telltale pink.

He focused intently on putting the coat on, shaking out the fabric, and sliding it over his shoulders with more care than necessary. His fingers lingered on the lapels, adjusting them needlessly, desperate for something to do with his hands.

Louis forced himself to look away, busying himself with checking his injured leg. He rolled up his pant leg, examining the bandage—no fresh blood, just a dull ache. Satisfied, he tugged the fabric back down and pushed himself to his feet, wincing slightly as he grabbed his bag.

When he glanced back at Kaden, he caught a glimpse of panic flitting across his face. It was obvious—Kaden was already planning his escape. Seven years ago, Kaden had run, and Louis had let him. But Louis wasn’t that same person anymore. He was older, steadier, and completely sick of playing games.

“Ready?” Louis asked, his tone deliberately casual as he met Kaden’s startled gaze.

Kaden blinked as if thrown by the simplicity of the question, then gave a quick nod and headed for the door.

“Merry Christmas,” Louis muttered to the cleaning lady as they passed her on what felt like the most literal walk of shame.

“Merry Christmas, boys,” she replied, her smile just a little too knowing.

Louis followed Kaden out of the locker room. Kaden moved a few feet ahead, maintaining a gap between them—not far enough to look like he was trying to ditch Louis, but enough to ensure they wouldn’t have to talk. Louis recognized the distance for what it was, a barrier, and let it hang there unchallenged for now.

The corridor stretched out long and silent between them. Kaden’s shoulders were rigid, and he stared intently at his phone, the glow of the screen faint in the dim hallway. But Louis knew there was no service here—not in the corridors, not anywhere on this floor. The rapid movement of Kaden’s fingers across the screen was nothing more than a nervous distraction.

They passed into the stairwell, their footsteps echoing against the concrete as they climbed. Neither of them spoke, the tension between them growing heavier with each step. At the top of the stairs, another corridor awaited them, just as long and just as quiet. Kaden didn’t falter, his pace steady as he led the way toward the vestibule.

The lobby’s fluorescent lights felt harsh after the dim, muted tones of the lower floors. A security guard sat by the metal detectors, sipping coffee. His gaze flicked up as they approached, and his expression shifted into a double-take, clearly taking in their rumpled clothes and disheveled appearances.

“Merry Christmas,” Louis said with a polite nod, breaking the tension.

The guard’s face brightened with recognition. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Zenith,” he replied warmly.

Louis glanced at Kaden, noticing how his head dipped further toward his phone. His fingers moved rapidly, typing or scrolling with purpose now, though it was impossible to tell what he was so intent on. The flush on his cheeks deepened, and his shoulders tensed as though bracing for recognition. But the guard’s attention remained on Louis, sparing Kaden the embarrassment he seemed so desperate to avoid.

Louis didn’t say anything as they passed through the vestibule, but his chest felt tight. Kaden could try to hide from the guard’s gaze and bury himself in his phone, but it wouldn’t change what had happened—or the weight of everything still unsaid between them.

Louis pulled out his phone as the service bars finally appeared. Three missed calls from Aunt Mara. He quickly typed out a message: Hey, I’m okay. Sorry, had some phone problems! Everything’s great. Will call tonight.

They pushed through the stadium doors into a world of white. Snow piled knee-deep and still falling so thick it blurred the horizon, reducing everything to a cold, swirling haze. Without a word, they trudged toward the gate, both fumbling with their Uber apps, their frozen fingers clumsy against the screens.

The unspoken words burned in Louis’s chest. Whatever had sparked and flickered to life in that dark locker room was already fading, dissolving into the cold like breath on winter air, leaving behind nothing but the ache of its absence.

They didn’t say a word as they waited for their Ubers. Louis scrolled through his phone, glancing at the team group chat. Someone had shared links to articles praising his shots from last night’s game—apparently, they were being called the best of the season so far. The game itself felt oddly distant now, even though it had only been last night. Another message popped up: photos from the party at Lopez’s house. A few of the guys had mentioned missing him. Louis stared at the pictures for a moment, then locked his phone, the ache in his chest growing heavier.

The first set of headlights appeared, cutting through the falling snow and announcing Kaden’s ride. Kaden turned toward him, and Louis braced for the usual smirk, the parting jab he’d come to expect. Instead, Kaden stepped closer and held out his hand.

Louis hesitated, then took it. The handshake was firm but brief. When their eyes met, Louis caught something unexpected—a glimmer of tears in Kaden’s blue eyes. It lasted only a moment before Kaden quickly looked away.

“Merry Christmas, Zenith,” Kaden said, his voice low and rough.

“Merry Christmas, Faulter,” Louis replied just as quietly.

Louis stayed where he was after Kaden’s cab pulled away, the taillights disappearing into the snowy haze. Even as the cold crept in, he waited for his own ride, unmoving. Whatever had happened between them—whatever it was—it was over now.

He had to let it go.

***

Louis moved around his kitchen, the rich smell of duck and cranberries filling the air. He’d decided that a proper Christmas dinner might help shake off the lingering melancholy—even if it was just for one. A feta salad sat waiting in a glass bowl on the counter while he gave the mashed potatoes a final stir, steam curling into the air.

He poured himself a glass of red wine, letting the soft strains of Christmas music drift through the apartment. The ache in his chest hadn’t disappeared entirely, but it felt different now. Lighter, somehow, like he’d finally let go of something he’d been holding onto for far too long.

Kaden’s face flashed in his mind—the way he’d looked when he turned back for that handshake, the hint of something raw in his eyes that Louis hadn’t dared believe was real. Louis sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck as he leaned against the counter. He told himself it was better this way, that whatever had sparked between them had burned itself out in that locker room. But his body remembered—his skin prickled with the ghost of Kaden’s touch, and the weight of his presence still lingered, impossible to ignore.

Maybe that’s what last night had been—a chance to lay old ghosts to rest. A way to finally move on from whatever unspoken thing had haunted them for years.

The doorbell cut through Nat King Cole’s smooth voice, startling him.

Louis crossed to the door, the wine glass still cradled in his hand. He wasn’t expecting anyone tonight. Maybe it was a neighbor who’d run out of salt or needed to borrow something last-minute. His steps slowed as he neared the door, a faint, inexplicable nervousness creeping into his chest.

He hesitated, then leaned forward to peer through the peephole. His breath caught.

It couldn’t be—

His heart hammered as he turned the lock and pulled the door open.