Static Crush {M/M} ✔

Chapter #13

Melissa looks up from her hot cocoa with a startled, "Who the hell is that?"

Hale doesn't know. "Should I answer it for you?"

Melissa turns toward the window, where the storm shutters rattle with a metallic clamor in the wind. "I guess we'd better," she says.

He goes to the door, Melissa at his heels clutching her housecoat closed. With the howling wind and knock of debris outside, it seems foolish for anyone to turn up unannounced.

Hale opens the door. Outside, soaked to the skin, stands Rayner. Sodden, copper curls stick to his forehead, dripping into his eyes. The wind sucks at his clothes so he grips the doorframe to keep from being buffeted backward.

Holding up a bottle of wine in one hand, a sheepish expression on his face, he says, "Er, I know it's a weird time, but I thought I'd see if Melissa wants any company? You know, what with the storm..." As he says it, he gives Hale a pointed look that Hale fails to interpret.

Melissa peeks around Hale, her eyes round with shock. "Oh! Rayner. That's nice of you. Well, it is a strange time, but I can go put some clothes on? Come in."

"Thanks, Melissa." He takes off his jacket and hangs it up before Hale can offer to. It's managed to save his t-shirt from the worst of the rain, but his jeans are far from dry.

"I'll just open this, shall I?" He holds up the wine.

Hale recovers himself enough to say, "I can assist you."

"I'll just be five minutes," Melissa says, a note of confusion still tingeing her voice. "And maybe I should bring you some spare sweatpants?"

"That's very kind of you. I'd appreciate it."

She scuttles upstairs. Hale accepts the wine bottle and walks with Rayner into the kitchen, trying his best through the lingering haze of his panic to dissect Rayner's strange behaviour. Visiting at this time would be odd for anyone. While a storm rages outside, even stranger. Rayner going out of his way to socialize is more bizarre than either.

In the kitchen, Hale's scans of Rayner register a great deal of tension in his muscles, his posture coiled with anxiety. He leans back against the counter, tapping a finger against it and watching Hale expectantly.

Hale asks, "Are you courting Melissa?" It's the only logical explanation he can fathom, though it still contradicts many things he thought he understood of Rayner's character.

Rayner's forehead wrinkles, his jaw going slack. "What?! No! I mean—" He lowers his voice, realizing Melissa might hear his outburst. "Of course not. I just needed an excuse to show up after your messages. This was the best I could come up with."

"What messages?"

Rayner regards Hale with disbelief written in his raised eyebrows and sideways stare. "Uh, the ones you've been sending for the past half-hour."

"I haven't sent you any—" Hale stops short. Rayner holds out his wrist to show the screen of his HoloPhone. Rayner has 10,836 messages from Hale. Rayner opens it and the log appears. Each message is exactly the same—approximately three sent every second for the past half hour. They are only one word.

>>Help.

"I've been freaking out, I thought you were in danger," Rayner whispers. "I didn't know what to do, so I just came up with this lame excuse about socializing so I could check on you. You didn't send these?"

Hale's throat constricts. He accesses his own message logs with Rayner and finds the same thing. An unending stream of one-word texts. Help. Help. Help. They begin at exactly 9:32 PM at the precise moment Melissa expressed interest in returning Hale in exchange for the new BioAndroid.