Haphephobia: the fear of being touched.
Blake, a second-year Psychology student, hadn't ever heard of such a phobia, until the day he was hired as a guide for Dean, the heir of a rich family.
Even though Dean had the appearance and behaviour of a ge...
Every chapter I will shout out someone, as a thank you for reading! If you want to be the next shout out, you just have to VOTE and leave a COMMENT (anything you want to).
This week's shout out: The-Potato-Whisperer !!Thank you for reading, commenting and, above all, supporting TOH <3 <3 <3 <3
BTW, a while ago I drew a stress relieving colouring book, if you want to check it out: https://flow.page/raquel98rm (Choose link closer to you c:) (link also in my bio) Now to what you came here for,
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In the garage, neither of them moved to get out of the car. Dean sat there, looking out of the windshield at the cold wall while his hammering heart echoed in his ears, like the ominous sound of drums.
His grandfather was there.
He scrabbled his memories in desperation, trying to recall if his mother had said something in passing about his grandfather visiting. No, he would have noticed if she did. So, why was he there? It couldn't be a good omen.
The leather squeaked in the sit beside his as Blake adjusted himself. Dean had almost forgotten he wasn't alone, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. The mere thought of Blake and his grandfather in the same room felt unnatural. He didn't want Blake to witness... whatever was bound to happen.
Dean grunted to himself, holding onto the steering wheel and resting his forehead against the back of his hands.
- Are you okay? – Blake asked.
A deep sigh fell from Dean's lips. He leaned back against the seat, letting his head tilt back.
- Maybe you should wait in my room, - he said. – I can try to not leave you alone for too long.
There was a pause. Dean shifted his attention to Blake, who was looking right back at him. His eyes were soft yet there was a certain tension in them.
Blake turned his body further towards him, - If you want me to wait, I'll wait, - he said. – But are you sure you don't want me there?
Dean pressed his lips into a line, - I don't know.
- It's up to you, - Blake gave a small smile. – Whatever you decide, I'll do it.
Dean knew it was probably a bad idea to have Blake there, but what could he do when Blake made everything feel less horrible with just a smile?
- Then we should get going, - Dean said. - Maybe he's in a rush.
Dean had to drag his feet across the floor as they left the garage and approached the living room. The closer they got to the voices, the more it felt like he was walking through quicksand and he wished nothing but to run upstairs and hide under the covers. Yet, Dean knew that as soon he stopped walking, he wouldn't be able to leave that spot.
