Chapter 1
Kieran’s phone vibrates with a text just as he’s sliding into a parking spot at the movie theater. His mood souring, he reaches for it. If Dawson is canceling on him last minute—
Just arrived. Waiting in the lobby :)
Thank fuck. His whole week has been shit; getting ditched would be just the fucking cherry on top.
Once in the lobby, he doesn’t even have time to look around before someone screams his name.
“Kieran!”
Dawson’s waving at him with a big smile on his face.
Kieran’s reluctant to admit it, but Dawson looks…good. Happy. He seems to have put on weight, the gauntness gone from his face. And he must be getting a good night’s sleep too, if the lack of the usually ever-present shadows under his eyes is anything to go by.
It’s the weirdest fucking thing to see him like this, considering he voluntarily shacked up with his amnesiac dick of a husband after Cal was released from the hospital.
Kieran still thinks it was a big mistake.
Seriously, how often does one’s abusive husband get in a car crash and has his memory return to its factory setting?
The universe had thrown the opportunity of a lifetime at Dawson, and he completely let it pass him by.
He could’ve been free, but he let his bleeding heart rule his head, as is his habit.
Kieran didn’t buy it when Dawson insisted it’s fine and that Cal—Dickhead, as Kieran’s come to nickname him—is a ‘brand-new person and practically harmless’.
Even if that is true, it doesn’t erase all those years he treated Dawson like shit—all those years Kieran had to watch him be treated like shit because his best friend wouldn’t listen and leave.
Kieran sighs. Fine. If Dawson wants to play house with Dickhead, he can’t stop him. But the minute Cal hurts him again, Kieran is gonna bash his already screwed up head in.
“As I live and breathe! You came!” Kieran exclaims with enthusiasm that’s only partially exaggerated. Despite being best friends, getting to spend time with Dawson has been an impossible feat for the past five or so years. Dawson always had some half-baked excuse why he couldn’t meet with him.
Contrary to popular belief, Kieran is neither oblivious nor stupid.
Okay, so he may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s not an idiot.
Even though Dawson never said so, it’s obvious that Cal wouldn’t let him spend time with his friends, or his family for that matter.
Controlling fucking asshole. Such a pity that the accident didn’t take him out completely.
“It’s been a while, hey?” Dawson has the decency to look sheepish.
“No shit.” Kieran jerks his head toward the snacks section. “What do you want? I’m buying.”
“I’ve had lunch, so just a coke will do.”
“Yeah, same.”
They fill up their cups under the spout, and Kieran grabs a packet of spiced peanuts in case he gets munchies later.
“So, what have you been up to? Any news?” Dawson asks once they’ve found their seats. The screen is still dark, so no one should complain if they talk for a bit.
“Nothing interesting. Work has been full on because we’ve been two people short since September, so everyone else has to pick up the slack. I swear, when I close my eyes, I see code everywhere.”
Dawson snickers. “I thought you always did. Like in The Matrix.”
“I wish. That would be so cool.” If only he could program his life using a combination of letters, numbers, and symbols.
Or program the perfect girlfriend (or at least someone who doesn’t ghost him).
Ideally, she’d be a redhead, take no shit, and have a dark sense of humor.
Brownie points if she’s a bit kinky too.
That’s not too much to ask, is it? Totally realistic.
“Stop it,” Dawson says with a scowl.
“What?”
“You have that stupid look on your face again.”
“What look?”
“The one you always get when your mind ends up in the gutter.”
Kieran offers him a dirty smirk, just to annoy him.
Dawson’s scowl deepens. “Seriously? How did you go there? We were talking about your work!”
“What can I say? All roads lead to the same destination.”
“The destination being the gutter?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re a pig.”
Grinning devilishly, Kieran grabs Dawson by the neck and gives him a slobbery smooch on the cheek. Dawson screams dramatically, arms and legs flailing. He pushes Kieran away, hastily rubbing his cheek with the sleeve of his jumper while glaring daggers at him.
“I hate you.”
“Don’t judge me, I’m lonely.” He wipes an imaginary tear from his eye. “Nobody wants me.” The tear might be fake, but the sharp, stabbing sensation in his chest is very real. He does what he always does—ignore it. It’s worked for him for the past 26 years, after all.
Dawson doesn’t laugh. His expression is serious, a line of concern between his brows. “That’s not true, Kieran.”
Kieran rolls his eyes. “I was kidding. Jesus. Lighten up a little.” He bumps Dawson’s shoulder good-naturedly.
Dawson isn’t convinced. “It’s only been a little over a month since you and Jess broke up. Even if you’re not ready to start dating yet—”
“I’m not nursing a broken heart. We weren’t serious.” Not for a lack of trying on Jess’ part. She was sneaky enough that bit by bit, she pretty much moved herself into Kieran’s apartment. And Kieran, figuring a bossy girlfriend was better than no girlfriend, turned a blind eye.
Until she decided to shit on Kieran’s best friend, leaving him no choice but to call it quits. A part of him is reluctant to admit that breaking up felt kinda…relieving.
Dawson looks skeptical. “Then why haven’t you tried dating again?”
“I have. Not my fault my date took off the second she saw me.” The most annoying part about the whole thing is how much it still stings. What is he being so sensitive for? Jesus.
“Oh,” Dawson says, his face falling. “I’m sorry.”
Kieran gives a non-committal shrug and takes a sip of his coke. He can feel Dawson’s gaze boring holes in his face.
“Did someone from work set you up?”
“It wasn’t a blind date. We matched on a dating app.”
“That’s weird. If you weren’t her type, why did she swipe right on you?”
“You know how it is, most people look better on camera than in real life.”
“No offence, but not in your case.” Offence very much taken, even though it’s true.
Kieran’s one of those people whose face ends up looking like an overcooked pancake if you look at it through the camera lens.
“Show me the photo you used. I’ll give you feedback.
Maybe we’ll pick a better one. Or I’ll take a new one for you.
I know the angles better—you know, artist and all. ”
When Kieran makes no move to do so, Dawson’s eyes narrow into slits. “You did use your picture in the profile, right?”
“…I did.”
The slits narrow further. “Show me.”
“What? Why?”
“I wanna see.” Dawson turns his hand palm up, waiting.
Grumbling under his breath, Kieran tentatively pulls out his phone, giving it a few swipes until his profile comes up. He turns the screen towards Dawson. “I just tweaked it a little.”
“How little are we tal—” Dawson’s eyes widen comically. “Kieran! What the fuck?! This isn’t a little!”
Heat floods Kieran’s face. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?! You look like a different person! This is the very definition of catfishing. You wanna be on the news as the next murder suspect?”
“Calm down, would you? Everyone touches up their photos.”
“Clearly, the meaning of a touch up is lost on you.” He shakes his head, pointing at the picture. “A six-pack? Really? You don’t even have a two-pack.”
“I could if I went to the gym more often!”
“But you don’t. Do you even have a membership?”
“Well…”
His naturally slim stature makes it easy not to gain weight even if he eats junk all day, but it also makes it nearly impossible to grow muscles without destroying himself five days a week, or pumping himself full of ‘roids.
“And what’s with the beard?” Dawson brings the phone closer for inspection. “It looks like you stole it off Chris Hemsworth and put it on your face.”
That’s exactly what he did, but he’s not about to admit that.
“You know I can’t grow a real beard! It turns out all scraggly and patchy when I try.
” Which is a tragedy because his face is annoyingly oval, his jawline invisible.
On multiple occasions, he’s been tempted to shave off his jaw bone.
He was this close to buying tickets to South Korea.
In general, his looks are pretty unremarkable.
He has no interesting features, apart from his brows that seem to have a life of their own.
His hair is an unattractive mousy color, his eyes plain brown.
He wore braces as a teenager, but due to phoning it in with his retainer, his teeth had regained some of their crookedness.
Dawson thinks it’s cute. He’s the only one who does.
Kieran snatches his phone back. “I don’t have a choice, alright?! If I put a real pic on there, I’d never get any matches.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“It is. I had my actual picture there for two weeks without a single match.”
Dawson purses his lips. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but have you thought of swiping right on someone who doesn’t look like a model?”
“What makes you think I only swipe on the ones who look like models?”
“Because I know you and I know your type.”
Kieran pouts. “There’s nothing wrong with having a type.”
“You do realize how hypocritical you sound, right?”
“Give me a break, will you? I had a harsh breakup recently. I’m heartbroken.”
Dawson bites back a smile. “You’re so full of shit.”
“But you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Aww.” He throws an arm over Dawson’s shoulder. “Maybe we should date. After all, we already know the worst about each other.”
Dawson shakes his arm off. “That’s exactly why I wouldn’t date you. You don’t even have cleaning products at home.”
“Cleanliness is overrated. What am I, a doctor?”
“Sometimes when you talk, it physically hurts me.”
“So sensitive.”