Ty ran the washer. Did some homework. Took the Speedos out, and hung them on the drying lines in the laundry room. He would come in early Monday to fold and stack the Speedos.
Chad was totally in the dark. He had no idea what was going on. He knew Ty had shoved Chad into his jeans pocket, but after that he had no idea. He heard the washing machine, and could tell when Ty stood, sat or walked, but that was pretty much it. Ty didn't speak to anyone, not even himself.
Eventually, Ty took his jeans off. He didn't empty the pockets.
Chad was aware that he was not being worn, nor were Ty's jeans. Chad felt an overwhelming sense of abandonment and cold. He needed a warm body inside him or close to him to feel safe. He felt very unsafe.
Chad felt as if a week passed, maybe it was a day or two. He had no way of knowing. He was certain a warm hand would fish him out of Ty's pocket. Chad had been rehearsing what to say to Ty, so that Ty would listen to him. He had to explain who he was and what Sinclair had done, and enlist Ty's help.
At last it happened. The jeans were lifted up, shaken, a hand was rummaging through Ty's pockets. Just not the one with Chad in it yet. Then the hand pulled Chad out. He had to wait for just the right moment to speak.