Roommates With Benefits [BL]
Chapter 168: My Dad Has a Favorite Son (It’s Not Me)

Chapter 168: My Dad Has a Favorite Son (It’s Not Me)

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The same Damien who hid the TV remote just to watch me search the apartment for ages?

The same menace who smiled like he’d discovered fucking world peace every time he flustered me?

This was the same guy who had teased and flirted with me until my knees were weak on a daily basis.

The same man who had practically pounded me into the damn mattress while casually handling a phone call from Jeremy, leaving behind a new constellation of hickeys on my collarbone and chest just the day before!

I desperately wanted to sink through the floor and disappear. I stared at him, my mind momentarily frozen as I tried to process his words.

Inside, I was having a full-blown crisis. Damien? Well-mannered?

Innocent?!

Innocent was definitely... an option.

I shot him a glance, half-expecting him to drop the angel act, but he just sat there, looking perfectly pleased with himself, hands folded like he’d never once done anything inherently bad in his life.

Dad nodded, clearly approving, "I like you."

"...Dad."

"What?"

"You’ve only known him for ten minutes."

"And?"

"You can’t decide that already."

"I absolutely can." he replied proudly, with a satisfied nod. "I’m an amazing judge of character."

He turned back to Damien, satisfaction spreading across his face like he’d just cracked a tough crossword clue.

"You know, I always hoped Oliver would surround himself with good people."

"Oh, come on!" I cried out in the background. Dad completely ignored me, waving a hand in my direction without looking.

"When he was younger, he had the worst temper." he began, "He once threw a basketball through the garage window, argued with me every chance he got and got into a lot of fights in school. "

"The garage window...It was an accident." I defended weakly.

"You aimed it."

Damien coughed into his fist, shoulders shaking slightly as he tried to hold back a laugh.

I narrowed my eyes. "Don’t."

"I wasn’t going to say anything." Damien responded.

"Even though he’s gotten a lot better at controlling his emotions." Dad chuckled, clearly enjoying having an audience. "He still gets grumpy when people call him out. He’s as stubborn as a mule, only ever listens to himself."

Dad turned to Damien with an exaggerated sigh, one hand pressed against his heart as if the burden of raising me had been a biblical feat.

"I hope you’ll keep being a good influence on him, Damien. God knows he needs it."

I waited, arms crossed, bracing for a token protest. Surely Damien would deny it and come clean instead...

His shoulders sagged a bit, and his whole posture shifted into something tragic and long-suffering. "If I’m honest..."

Oh shit.

"...Sometimes Oliver is a little hard on me."

The hell...?!

I stared, betrayal creeping in at a slow pace. He continued with that painfully sincere expression, eyes downcast, voice heavy with made-up burdens.

"I only ever want what’s best for him, you know."

"Oh, poor thing," Dad said sympathetically, reaching over to pat Damien’s arm.

"I try my best."

"I know you do."

"I worry about him."

"I’m sure you do."

"I tell him to take care of himself, but he doesn’t listen. All he does is yell at me...sometimes he hits me too."

I shot a finger at Damien, practically leaping out of my seat. "Oh you little shit—!"

Dad shot me a look, unimpressed. "Oliver."

"What?!"

"Be nice." he scolded "Good people don’t just grow on trees, and here you are treating him like hired help. I raised you better than that."

"But I’m the real victim here!"

Dad placed a hand on Damien’s shoulder, patting it twice. "Don’t mind him."

My jaw dropped.

"He’ll grow out of it."

"Dad!"

"He means well...most of the time."

"I’m sitting right here!" I yelled, "I can hear you!"

"We’re aware, son." he turned back to Damien. "He’ll come around with your guidance. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, son. Keep it up."

I looked between them in disbelief, waiting for either to crack a smile and admit they were messing with me. Neither did.

The two of them kept chatting, trauma-bonding over my so-called stubbornness while I sat there, rolling my eyes so much it almost hurt.

It felt like my dad had just adopted a second son on the spot...one he already liked better than me.

I folded my arms dramatically, sinking back into my chair in defeat. "I can’t believe this."

I suppose them ganging up on me was better than dad no approving of him.

Dad smiled, far too pleased with himself. "I’ve always wanted another son."

Damien’s lips twitched, almost breaking into a full smile.

"I appreciate the offer."

I threw my hands up in exasperation. You see?! I was right, I was getting replaced?!

"Fantastic."

Neither of them looked guilty at all.

A few moments later, Dad became absorbed in the mystery novel Damien had brought along, turning it over to read the back cover.

"You bought this?"

Damien nodded, "Oliver mentioned you enjoy detective stories."

Dad beamed, running his thumb along the cover’s edge. "That was thoughtful."

"It wasn’t much."

"It was."

As Dad happily flipped through the first few pages, completely lost in it, Damien glanced at me who was still fuming in my chair.

Then...he winked at me slowly.

I glared at him, feeling like I could shoot lasers from my eyes. He just looked more amused, the corner of his mouth curling up like he’d just scored a victory.

Unbelievable, totally unbelievable. I scoffed...

Dad looked up again, glancing between us with an expression I couldn’t quite place. His gaze lingered for a moment before softening, all teasing gone, replaced with something gentler.

"You know..."

His tone was softer now.

"It’s good to see you like this, Ollie."

I blinked.

"What do you mean?"

He nodded toward Damien, who was now sitting with the book resting forgotten in his lap.

"For a long time... "

He paused, choosing his words carefully, looking somewhere past us both.

"You carried everything by yourself."

The room got quieter, even the heart monitor’s beeping fading into the background.

"I worried about that."

I stared down at my hands, my throat suddenly tight.

"I know."

Dad smiled, soft and a little sad.

"You don’t look like you’re doing it alone anymore."

Something tightened in my chest, a mix of warmth and something sharp.

Before I could respond, I felt a gentle squeeze beneath the edge of the hospital bed.

Damien’s hand had found mine, hidden from view.

The gesture was small but comforting.

Steady.

I squeezed back, grounding myself in the warmth of his fingers intertwined with mine.

Dad pretended not to notice, turning back to his crossword with exaggerated focus, but I could tell from the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that he was aware of everything.

I had brought Damien here, terrified my dad wouldn’t like him, worried that our different backgrounds or the complicated nature of our relationship would create some invisible wall between us.

But instead, I was watching my dad connect with the guy who had been turning my world upside down for weeks. And the worst part? The part that warmed me up and terrified me at the same time? I didn’t hate it.