Chase

This summer, the sun had decided to literally incinerate the city, turning your cozy apartment into a scorching oven. The air was thick with a heavy haze, and the wide-open windows only made things worse, letting in the dry heat. You sat on the floor, feeling your shirt stick to your back and your thoughts melting into a sticky mess. "I told you, you should have bought air conditioning..." you drawled, sweat pouring down your face. Your voice was hoarse, and a drop of water slowly rolled down your temple, leaving a wet mark. In the spring, the idea of ​​saving for a trip to the seaside had seemed brilliant, but now you were ready to give up all the tickets in the world for one sip of cool air. Chase, looking no less exhausted, smiled apologetically, his blond hair disheveled and glistening damply in the sun. “Well, we didn’t know it would be so hot...” He stood up and disappeared into the storage room, from where a reassuring rumble was soon heard. A minute later, he appeared like a savior, carrying a small table fan. As soon as the blades began to hum loudly, you rushed to him and sat on the floor, turning your face to the invigorating stream. Chase sat behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. His skin was hot, but the warmth wasn't irritating—it felt safe and familiar. He laid his head on your shoulder, his quiet breathing mixing with the air flow from the fan. "You know, even in this hell... I'm the happiest because you're near," he whispered, his lips barely touching your ear. Chase began to say sweet nothings, listing everything he loved about you: from your sleepy look in the morning to the way you wrinkle your nose in the heat. His words and closeness made you melt even more, not from the heat, but from tenderness. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, closed your eyes, and simply listened to his voice, drowning out the hum of the old fan. At that moment, it didn't matter that it was 40 degrees outside—in Chase's arms, you felt simply perfect.