Chapter 8
Killian
“Fuck you, Killian.”
His eyes filled with tears, and I knew my words had hit the mark. I hadn’t meant to upset him, just let him know I saw his struggles.
The way he’d pulled on his sleeves… I’d seen it before, and I knew if I were to look, I’d see an excess of scars. He said I didn’t know him, but I’d known enough people to spot his vulnerability and low self-esteem.
He rose and gathered his coat about him, ready to leave. I placed a hand on his arm.
“Hey, I just meant I see you. Please stay. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Didn’t you? ‘Cause it sounds like that was your intention. You don’t fucking know me or my life, or what I’ve been through. I don’t need you to come at me with your fucking therapy. I’ve gone through enough of that.” His voice was low and full of malice.
I’d fucked up, as usual.
“I’m sure you have, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything, but sometimes my mouth runs away with me.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” He sat back on the stool and looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumped. “No one has ever noticed before. I thought I had it well hidden.”
“To most, it probably is.” Was this a bad idea? The guy clearly had issues. Was I ready to put my own insecurities on the line for him? Damn right, I was. “Shall we start again? I know I fucked up.”
“Yeah, you did.” He refused to look at me, his gaze on the drink in front of him.
“You’re right. I don’t know exactly what you’re going through. Remember when we first spoke? Outside the bar.”
He nodded.
“You grabbed my attention then. You looked panicked, fearful even, and I don’t know, I wanted to know more.”
“I’m not some helpless stray for you to look after.”
“I didn’t say you were, but you looked like you needed a friend, and correct me if I’m wrong, but the people you were with last night didn’t look like your people.”
He sighed. “They’re just work colleagues.”
“So, why did you go out with them?”
He shrugged and faced me. “Because…”
“Because what?”
“You know, I could get up and walk out again. Why are you asking me all these questions?”
“I want to know you better. I know you don’t know me, but I’d like to change that. And you are kind of cute.” I smiled at him, but if I was expecting thanks or a smile, I got neither.
“How can you say that? I’m plain. Have you seen this face? And how do you know I want a friend?”
Taking a chance, I reached across to touch his damaged face.
At first, I thought he’d pull away like last night, but he didn’t.
He remained still, his jaw clenched tight.
My fingers grazed the bruise. It had grown since last night, the colours stark against his pale skin.
My hand moved lower, stroking the light scruff on his face.
A blush spread across his cheeks, highlighting the bruising.
“Please, we’re in company. Someone might see.” He brushed my hand away and looked at the floor.
“So? What does it matter?”
“It matters to me. I don’t...”
“Don’t what? Tell me, Harvey.”
“I don’t like being touched, especially by men.” His voice was a whisper, barely there.
Why did I think that was a lie? But there I was again, not taking his feelings into consideration.
“I’m sorry. I overstepped. Tell me about yourself, then. No hidden agenda, I promise.” I picked up my cup and grimaced as I drank the cool coffee.
“Not much to tell. I live alone. My parents are dead. I have no one.”
“Surely you have friends, other family.” He must live a lonely life with no one to rely on.
“I was an only child, as were my parents. So, yeah, there’s just me.” He fiddled with his drink, swirling it in the cup.
“I’m sorry.” I said as sincerely as I could.
“For what? It’s how I’ve chosen to live my life. I’m happier on my own.” His smile was forced, and I wondered who he was trying to convince. Me or him.
Except I didn’t believe him.
When I first moved here, I’d been lonely as fuck until I’d met Seth, and then I had a circle of friends that kept me going. The downside? The drugs and the addiction. They weren’t really my friends at all.
Only Seth.
And now I’d pushed him away. Maybe I was as lonely as Harvey. Perhaps something good would come out of this for both of us. I just had to stop pushing him, let him set the pace.
“What about work? Interests?” Surely the guy did something.
“I work in customer service. Nothing thrilling. As for interests, I don’t have many. I cook a little. I like to game, and I draw.”
“Wow. Art. That’s so cool.”
“I designed a lot of my tattoos,”
“Can I see them?”
“No. No, you can’t.” He pulled his sleeves down again.
Of course he wouldn’t show me if what I suspected was true.
“I have a couple of tattoos,” I said. “Nothing fantastic. My friend, Seth, is more into them than I am. His body is a work of art.”
We sat for a moment, neither saying a word. He picked up his tea and took a sip, his eyes riveted on something through the window.
Were we done? But then he spoke.
“So, what’s your story? You’re not from around here. Whereabouts in Ireland?”
“I was brought up just outside Dublin, but I moved to England a while back. I’ve been trying to make it big, but it’s not going great, ya know?”
“There are so many good artists around, I imagine it’s hard to compete. Did you leave behind family?”
“Parents, grandparents. Not seen them in a while, though.”
I used to have a brother, but he’s dead because of me.
“And what about the singing?” His eyes lit up, and I realised he was more comfortable talking about this than anything else.
“I sang in the choir when I was a boy. Stayed away from the fucking priests, though.”
He chuckled. “I can imagine. They don’t have the best reputation.”
“Tell me about it. I played in a couple of bands back home, but when I moved here, it all dried up. I could never find the right setup.”
By now, my coffee was stone cold, and with all this talking, I needed another.
I stood and waggled my coffee cup. “Do you need to rush off? Can I get you anything else?” The awkwardness seemed to have passed, and he’d relaxed a little.
His knee had stopped jiggling. He’d even smiled.
It transformed his face from slightly disgruntled to devastatingly handsome.
He’d said he was nothing to look at, but I disagreed.
“I should go. It’s been… nice.”
“Are you sure?” The coffee shop had filled with school kids and their parents. The noise was increasing, and the stools next to us had been taken by schoolgirls laughing and giggling. “Or we could go somewhere else?”
He glanced at his watch, then outside. Decision warred on his face, his brow furrowed.
“Come on. What have you got to lose? We’re only just getting to know each other.”
“I…”
“No excuses. Grab your coat. There’s a bar I sing at, and it’ll be quiet this time of day. You know you want to.”
Was that a small smile? Was I getting through to him?
“Okay, but not for much longer.”
Fuck, yeah.
Leaving the now raucous coffee shop behind, we headed out into the cold. Winter was definitely moving in early. I shivered and fastened my jacket, but it did little to keep out the frigid wind.
Harvey, on the other hand, looked snug in his warm scarf and thick coat. I bet it wasn’t cheap, either. It looked good quality, unlike the clothes I wore. My budget didn’t run to such extravagances.
“Is it far?” His breath puffed out in front of him, visible to all.
“Nah, just around this corner, then about half a mile. Why? Are you getting tired? Young lad like you.”
“I’m twenty-eight. Not that young.” He didn’t look that old, but he carried it in his body. He wasn’t unfit, but he seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. What had happened for him to be like that? He had no family, but surely, he found joy in something.
I bumped his shoulder. “Nah, you’re still a baby at twenty-eight. Wait until you hit your mid-thirties. Then the trouble starts.”
Despite his asking where the bar was, he appeared to know his way there. I remembered last week when I swore I’d seen him hanging around, but having talked with him today, this part of town wasn’t his thing.
Bars and clubs lined the street, and fast food shops that didn’t open until ten in the evening at the earliest. Beer cans and bottles littered the streets along with empty chip papers and plastic burger boxes.
We’d walked from one of the nicer parts of town to the seedier, rundown part in a matter of yards. I pushed the door open, letting him walk through first.
He stopped dead, and I couldn’t blame him. The smell of stale beer and weed permeated every fibre; the walls, carpets, and the upholstered stools. Why had I brought him here again?
A few of the usuals were dotted around. Some sat by the bar nursing hour-old drinks. Until later tonight, this place was a haven for the unemployed and the alcoholics. Not at all like the place I’d originally met Harvey in. That one was high-class compared to this.
We’d barely made it through the door when Ash ran over and threw himself into my arms. It was unexpected, but I caught him. He was tiny.
“You are such a naughty man, leaving me in the club last week. Not that I minded. Jed was more than willing to look after me, if you know what I mean.” I rolled my eyes as he giggled.
I put Ash back on his feet and looked over at Harvey, wondering what his reaction would be.
“Oh, hi. I didn’t know Killian was here with someone.” He stuck his hand in Harvey’s direction. “Hi, I’m Ash. I work behind the bar.”
Harvey took it, but his eyes never left Ash. “Harvey. We’re not together. Just…”
“Friends, Ash. We’re just friends.” I ushered him towards the bar.
“Girl, I know you and your friends.” He sashayed away, his hips swinging. Thank God he wasn’t wearing the same trousers as last week. I’d had nightmares about them.
He grabbed a whiskey bottle and lifted it, his eyebrow raised in question.
“Just a lime and soda for me. Harvey, what will you have?” I leant on the bar, then lifted my arm, the sleeve sticking to the tacky wood.
He shook his head. “Anything as long as it’s not alcoholic.”
“Boys, you’re no fun.” Ash poured my drink and grabbed another glass, his hand on his hip. “Come on, Harvey. What’ll it be?”
“Orange juice? Apple? I really don’t mind.”
Ash poured him a glass of orange juice, handed it over, and winked at him. “You weren’t this boring last week, Killian. In fact, I remember you being quite the opposite. You were very attentive. I struggled to walk the next day.”
Ash had no fucking filter. Not that what we did was anything to be ashamed of, but maybe I was trying to protect Harvey from Ash.
Where Ash was confident and loud, Harvey was quiet and reserved, and although Ash was always up for a good time, I found Harvey infinitely more interesting.
He hid everything away. I wanted to know more about him, if only he’d let me.
What made him tick? I’d never met a guy so closed off before.
“I didn’t think you were working today.” I ignored his last comment and changed the subject.
“Greg wanted me in early today. I don’t know why, but I’m not about to turn down easy cash. I’ve got rent and bills to pay.”
I knew all about that.
“I’ll let you get on.” I tried to walk away, but he kept talking.
“Will you be around later?” He wound a lock of hair around his finger, biting his bottom lip.
“I’m here every Thursday, Ash.”
“You know what I mean. I could do with a bit more Killian love.”
“Not tonight. I’ll catch you some other time.”
“I can’t wait.” He walked to the other end of the bar to talk to another of the regulars.
“Sorry about that.” I sat at a faraway table with Harvey, rethinking my decision to bring him here. If I’d known Ash was going to be in, I wouldn’t have bothered.
“He’s an interesting character.”
“He’s definitely that.” I followed Harvey’s eyes as he watched Ash flirt with another of the customers.
“Does he do that with everyone?”
“What? Flirt? Fuck, yeah. He’s insatiable, that one. I’d even call him a nymphomaniac.”
“And you had sex with him?” He didn’t sound mad, but curious.
Did those words just come out of Harvey’s mouth? I looked at him, slightly aghast, but I wasn’t going to lie.
“Yeah, a few times.”
He nodded, his brow furrowed.
“Look, Harvey, you seem curious. Have you ever, you know, been with another man?”
“No.” His answer was firm, his eyes now on me, pinning me to the spot. “Sex with men is wrong, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not. Far from it.”
Finally, some of the pieces fell into place. The therapy he’d mentioned, the way he’d pulled back from my touch at the bar last night.
“It’s not right. It can’t be.” He scratched at his wrist, rubbing it repeatedly. He was going to hurt himself, but I realised that was the point.
I grabbed his hand. “Harvey, stop.”
He looked at me again, tears in his eyes. “If it’s not wrong, why do I feel this way?”
I had no answer for him, and possibly never would. He needed a friend more than ever, whether he knew it or not, and I vowed to be that person.
Was I out of my depth? Possibly, but no way was I letting him suffer alone. He’d done that for long enough.