Chaz x Striker

Pregnat pt4

Author: also for those who sees I write a little different I have been taking some English classes to help with my spelling Grammer and how I word sentences so I can post much better stories for everyone so I hope you enjoy and love the stories.

Hours crawled by like molasses. Chaz sat rigidly in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room, hands curled tightly in his lap, eyes fixed on the doors leading to the emergency wing. The fluorescent lights above hummed faintly, filling the silence that had settled like a heavy blanket. Every second that ticked by made his heart hammer harder.

For some reason, he found himself noticing the quiet presence of Millie, Moxxie, and Blitz in the room with him. They hadn't said much, letting him stew in his worry, but their presence was like a tether to reality, keeping him grounded as panic threatened to overtake him entirely.

Moxxie, sitting a few seats away, couldn't help but watch Chaz. There was something raw and undeniable in the way he sat there—straight-backed, hands trembling slightly, lips pressed tight as he stared at the doors. It wasn't just fear. It wasn't just concern. There was something deeper, something that went beyond simple attachment.

Finally, Moxxie broke the silence, his voice low and cautious. "You... really care about him, huh?"

Chaz turned toward him slowly, exhaustion and panic making his features sharp, almost raw. He swallowed hard, then exhaled, his voice steadying as he finally let the truth spill out. "Yes, I do." His gaze went back to the doors, jaw tight, lips trembling. "Even after everything—dating you, Millie, then the whole mob boss thing, and Crimson trying to kill me—I found Striker. I found him, and he... he's mine. And now..." His hands curled into fists, gripping the edge of the chair as though he could anchor himself against the flood of emotion. "...now he's hurt, and I... I can't lose him. Not him, not our baby. I... I can't."

Moxxie nodded slowly, a quiet understanding softening his stern features. He could see it—the depth of Chaz's care, the ferocity of it. He'd seen loyalty before, he'd seen attachment, but this... this was different. It wasn't just about being a boyfriend. It was about family, about protection, about the lengths Chaz would go to for Striker and their child.

Millie, sitting closer now, pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes glistening. Even Blitz, normally so stoic and self-contained, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, staring down at the floor, jaw tight. The tension was thick, but it was tempered with the quiet recognition of the bond Chaz had with Striker—and the lengths he'd go to keep him safe.

Chaz's voice softened, almost a whisper now, as if speaking to Striker through the thick walls separating them. "I'll wait as long as it takes. You hear me? I'll wait for you. And when you come back to me, I'm never letting go again. Not ever."

The three of them—Moxxie, Millie, and Blitz—watched him with quiet reverence. There was no judgment, no mockery, just an understanding that this was more than obsession, more than fear. This was love. Fierce, unrelenting, protective.

And in the stillness of that waiting room, the hum of the fluorescent lights seemed almost soft, almost gentle, as they all waited together—united by the hope that Striker would come back to them.

Chaz's hands were still trembling, even after hours of waiting. His eyes stayed on the doors to the emergency room, but something inside him shifted—an urgent need to let some truth out, a quiet confession he hadn't had the chance to say before chaos erupted.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small black leather box. The moment Millie and Moxxie saw it, their eyes widened in surprise, and even Blitz, who rarely showed any reaction, froze mid-breath, his head tilting slightly in shock.