CHAPTER 165: I FEEL SHY.

"Babe," Charles called out in a low, sultry voice, the kind that made Augustine’s knees weak. "Stop teasing me and come sit next to me."

Augustine smirked, biting his lower lip. "But I want to know how you taste," he purred, his voice dripping with desire. "And I want you to fuck my mouth real hard... make me your good boy—only yours—"

"Come on, Augustine. That’s enough," Charles interrupted coolly, his tone sharp but undeniably tempting. "I said come sit next to me," he added, his gaze dark and commanding.

Augustine nodded and obeyed without question, settling beside Charles on the edge of the bed, their thighs brushing, skin barely touching—but enough to spark heat between them.

Charles shifted slightly, his fingers fidgeting on his lap. "Umm... I... I feel shy," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, eyes glued to the floor as if looking into Augustine’s face might set his whole body ablaze. "And I feel weird after what we did in the bathroom."

"O-Okay," Augustine replied softly before rising from the bed.

He didn’t question it, didn’t press.

Instead, he moved with quiet understanding, crossing the room toward the wardrobe.

Augustine grabbed a pair of black trousers and a matching shirt, slipping into them with swift, practiced motions.

The fabric hugged his frame, accentuating the strength in his shoulders.

Without another word, he stepped out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut behind him with a gentle click.

Charles arched a brow, staring at the door that had just slid shut.

Silence blanketed the room, thick and unsettling.

Charles had expected—hoped—for Augustine to say something... anything. A soft reassurance. A cheeky compliment. Even a cocky smirk to break the awkward tension. But instead, Charles was left alone with nothing but the echo of a closed door and the questions clawing at his mind.

’Was I that bad at giving head?’

’Or was it because I didn’t seem extremely satisfied when I swallowed his cum?

The doubt crept in fast, wrapping around Charles chest like a vice.

He bit down on his lower lip, his fingers unconsciously grazing the spot where Augustine’s touch had lingered minutes ago.

’Does Augustine not have feelings for me anymore? Is he dumping me right after I gave him a blowjob?’

’I... I think I said something wrong, but what exactly did I do?’

Charles sat frozen, anxiety tightening in his gut like a knot. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as his thoughts spiraled deeper into panic, clawing for answers.

Just then, the bedroom door slid open with a quiet shhhhkk, and Charles’s eyes widened.

Standing there, framed by the doorway, was Augustine—dressed in black, handsome as ever, holding a rose flower bouquet in one hand and a paper in the other.

His expression was soft. Almost nervous but his eyes burned with something else entirely—something raw, something tender.

’Wait! How long have I been thinking within myself? Charles inwardly ask himself.

His breath hitch slightly, as he watched as Augustine slowly walked toward the bed—each step deliberate, his presence still managing to suck all the air out of the room.

Once more, Augustine sat down at the edge of the bed, his legs resting outside the frame as they touched the floor.

"Pookie, I’m sorry for making you feel shy about yourself," Augustine purred, his voice soft with remorse. "I should’ve been gentler with you in the bathroom... I acted like a damn fool." He added, the edge in his tone directed at himself.

Charles didn’t say a word. He simply kept his eyes lowered, staring at his fingers as he fidgeted with them, twisting them together in a quiet storm of emotion.

"I didn’t mean to hurt you Charles. You know that I’ll never do that." Augustine added with a tender voice before handing over the rose bouquet to Charles.

Charles wrapped the rose flower over his chest as he glance at it, refusing to lift his gaze to meet that of Augustine.

"Mmm, how long has it been since you stepped out of the bedroom? I... well, I’ve been thinking, and it only feels like a few seconds have passed."

Augustine sighed, running a hand through his own hair. "It’s been about thirty minutes already," he replied softly. "Well... I’ll give you an hour to yourself," he added, rising slowly from the bed, his voice laced with quiet understanding.

Just as he was about to step away from the bed, he slid a neatly folded piece of paper onto Charles’s thigh.

"Read it," he whispered, his voice tender and low, before turning around and quietly stepping out of the room, leaving behind a trace of warmth and lingering tension.

Exhale!

Charles exhaled loudly, lifting his gaze as he set the rose flower bouquet on the bed.

His eyes lit up as he unfolded the paper, his fingers trembling slightly.

He smiled—softly at first, then wider—as he read the first line:

"Pookie... Ohh how I love you so much, Charles Donald. You are the man of my dreams, and you are the reason why I’m always wearing a smile."

As Charles eyes scanned the words, something inside him stirred. A warmth began to bloom in his chest.

"Charles, I know you’re not always quick to speak, and that sometimes your silence isn’t emptiness—but safety."

Charles lips parted, breathing in the words like they were meant to fill something he didn’t know was empty.

"I love you so so much, that... that you don’t have to be loud to be felt—your presence speaks volumes, and I’ve heard every beautiful echo."

Charles fingers grazed over the paper like it was something sacred. "I know that we just started confessing our love for each other, but ohh man! I love every fiber of your being."

Charles breath caught in his throat.

"The way you tug your sleeves when you’re nervous, the warmth in your laugh when you finally let it out, the way your touch lingers just long enough to be remembered."

Charles chuckle, shaking his head sideways a he continued to read the text. "Being close to you feels like tracing the outline of peace—and I still gets butterflies every time. Besides... I get butterflies whenever you call me babe. It makes me squeal like a teenager and I like the feeling. I like you."

Charles bit his lower lip, his eyelashes fluttering as tears slowly gathered in his eyes.

He fought to keep himself composed, not allowing the emotions to overwhelm him.

"The scene that took place in the bathroom... I’m sorry for what I did to you," came next paragraph read. "Please, if ever you feel unsure, know that I will wait. Not because I’m patient, but because you’re worth every second of the wait.

So here’s my small letter, with its open heart and quiet hope: I see you, exactly as you are, and I cherish you. You never have to change, Charles. You don’t have to be more than yourself because I .... I love you so much my pookie pie. I’m madly in love you."

As Charles read the last line, tears rolled down from his eyes as they kissed his cheeks before falling onto the piece of paper in his hands.

He slowly shut his eyes, pressing the letter close to his chest.

The letter had already said it all.