Chapter 8 #2
Kieran frowns, sourness spreading across his tongue.
The only people who ever enjoyed his temper were his classmates, and only because they found it highly entertaining to tease and taunt him until he snapped.
The amount of times he’d unfairly been given detention, or sent to the counselor’s office to ‘discuss his behavior’, are too many to count.
He knows that Ash gets a kick out of teasing him, so why does this hurt? Ash is the textbook example of a bully, after all.
“Maybe I should clarify…” Ash starts, shortening the distance between them by leaning forward.
It’s not enough to be all the way in Kieran’s space, the table thankfully acting like a shield, but it’s way closer than he’d like.
“I’m not having fun at your expanse. When I say I enjoy your personality, I mean I enjoy talking to you.
You have no filter, and it’s refreshing.
You’re also very passionate when you talk about something that matters to you, and I like seeing all the emotions play out on your face. ”
Kieran stares at him, dumbfounded, expecting Ash to laugh and say he was kidding.
Because how could he not? The reasons he listed are usually the same reasons why Kieran gets abandoned or ignored.
How could anyone like that about him? Being a hothead is not exactly something to brag about, nor is it useful.
Being calm and thinking things through is; neither of which Kieran’s very good at.
“And I might also be referring to, how shall I put it…carnal desires.”
Kieran’s confusion is quickly replaced by a scowl. What did he even expect?
“Wait…” Something else dawns on him. “Is it like…a kink?” He’s not proud of the way his voice climbs noticeably high. “You into degradation or some shit?”
Ash just hums, totally shameless and unbothered. “Not really. But you shouldn’t judge anyway.”
Not judge, his ass. This is personal now!
“Fuck you. I’ll judge you and anyone else as much as I want.”
“Okay.”
Gah! How is he so calm and collected all the time?!
Robbed of all his energy, Kieran folds his arms on the table and buries his face in them. “God, I hate you,” he mumbles, though the heat is not quite there.
He hears and feels Ash shift, suddenly worried he’s going to try and touch him, but it never happens. But the next time he speaks, it sounds significantly closer.
“Do you really?”
“Yup.” As if that wasn’t obvious.
“Why?” He sounds genuinely curious instead of upset or disappointed. Figures. Kieran must be a funny scientific experiment for him.
He forces himself to look up, so he can glare at Ash. “Are you seriously asking me that?”
“Do you find that difficult to answer?”
“It’s because!” Kieran cries, instantly cursing himself for such a childish response. He tries again, aiming to be a little more articulate. “Because you are…” Shit, he’s drawing blanks again. Must be the alcohol.
“I’m what?” Ash asks, with infinite patience. It just pisses Kieran off more.
“Like this!” he yells, pointing an accusing finger at him.
Ash looks down at himself, then back at Kieran. “This?”
“An asshole!” Kieran clarifies.
Ash looks at him like Kieran is a cute, angry kitten, not a fully grown man who is one drink away from choking the life out of him. “I’ve been called that many times, but no one’s ever been so vocal about it.”
Yeah, that’s likely because he’s putting in extra effort to drive Kieran nuts. “Well, unlucky for you, I’ve been told I have poor emotional regulation, so you can fucking bet I’ll be vocal about your bullshit.”
“Poor emotional regulation, huh?” Ash echoes, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
Once again, Kieran’s eyes are drawn to his beard. Ugh, why does it have to be so full and neat, not a hair out of place? And then, there’s that annoyingly symmetrical face of his. Kieran would bet that even his balls are both the same size.
Don’t think about his balls, for fuck’s sake!
Too late. Heat rushes to his face. Hopefully he can blame it on the alcohol.
“Is that what you’ve been told by therapists?”
Is that a roundabout way of trying to find out why he can’t stand them? “Therapists, parents, teachers… Right before I had a bunch of different pills shoved down my throat.” Which had successfully put him off taking so much as a fucking vitamin supplement, even in adulthood.
He can feel himself starting to slip, sinking into a well of memories he’d rather forget.
Ash’s voice cuts through the flashbacks, wrapping around him like a piece of rope and dragging him back to the surface.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” Ash repeats, sounding as sincere as Kieran’s ever heard him, which is never.
A rock the size of a tennis ball lodges itself in Kieran’s throat. He can barely breathe through it, let alone speak. He’s not sure what he’d say even if he could. How does someone reply to this? How—
Something warm touches his hand, soft and feather-light. His fingers uncurl at the contact, only now making him realize he’d been clenching them in a fist. The warmth expands, caressing his skin, sliding between his fingers—
Confused, he looks down. At his hand. At Ash’s hand. At his hand interlaced with Ash’s. Like a complete moron, he stares at it. At them. Why am I not moving?
“Kieran?”
That does it. He snatches his hand back, hiding it in his lap. Clears his throat; three times.
“Why are you sorry?” he asks, successfully ignoring the weird fucking thing that just happened. “I might bitch about therapists, but it’s not like you were there.”
“Still, it was wrong and it shouldn’t have happened. You deserved better.”
Kieran shrugs, so fucking uncomfortable he could crawl out of his own skin.
“Can’t really blame them, I guess. No one wants to deal with an emotional wreck.”
There’s that serious, almost angry expression again. It only lasts a few seconds before it disappears and a soft smile overtakes Ash’s face. “I have it on good authority that’s not true.”
Lips twitching involuntarily, Kieran rolls his eyes. “You must love drama.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“No? Then what? Oh, let me guess.” Kieran snaps his fingers, asking mockingly, “You like people with strong personalities?”
“Colorful personalities. Like yours.”
“That’s just a euphemism for being a headcase.”
“Not at all,” Ash disagrees, and why the heck does he sound affectionate? “I think you feel a lot of things and never had the chance to learn how to make sense of them.”
Kieran opens his mouth to let Ash know exactly where he can shove his pseudo-scientific observations, but doesn’t get far.
Despite knowing Ash is full of shit, something about his words hits dangerously close to home.
The realization causes a weird sensation in his chest, a sense of completion, like a lost puzzle piece falling into place.
It scares the crap out of him.
“I told you, I’m not interested in an unsolicited therapy session,” Kieran grumbles when his voice has miraculously recovered. Though it wouldn’t hurt if he could make it sound a little more convincing.
“That’s not what I’m trying to do here,” Ash placates—the liar.
“So what are you trying to do, huh? Make me punch you? Because let me tell you, you’re doing great.
” It would probably sound more threatening if his speech hadn’t already become slightly slurred.
The inside of his mouth doesn’t feel great either, his tongue sticking to the roof.
“Pass me that.” He points at the glass of water, covered in condensation from sitting there all this time.
“Let’s just order you a new—”
“Just give it here, will you?”
Ash does.
Making sure to avoid eye contact, Kieran reaches for the glass and brings it to his parched lips.
He takes a sip, the sensation of ice-cold water sliding down his dry throat so divine it draws a little moan out of him.
He takes a big gulp next, drinking until the glass is mostly empty.
Stupidly enough, he finds himself in a better mood now that he’s not severely dehydrated, but that doesn’t last long.
One look at Ash is all it takes to awaken his inner kraken.
“What?” he snaps. It’s not that Ash is doing anything. On the contrary, his expression is disturbingly blank, to the point of seriousness. It just pisses Kieran off that he doesn’t know what that means.
“You don’t realize how lovely you are, do you?”
“I beg your fucking pardon?” He must be having auditory hallucinations. He hopes he’s having auditory hallucinations.
Ash flashes him a bright grin, as if Kieran complimented his hairstyle instead of cussing him out. “There you go.”
“You’re fucking mental, man,” Kieran tells him, not really understanding why anything that comes out of Ash’s mouth still surprises him anymore.
Wait, no. That almost makes it sound like he’s getting used to it. Like he’s starting to be okay with it. That’s not the case! Not at all! Hard nope.
“Comes with the territory,” Ash says, not even trying to deny it.
“Don’t blame it on your job. This is all you.”
“Probably.”
Ugh. So fucking blasé about everything.
“Were those your coworkers?” Ash asks suddenly.
Kieran opens his mouth to say yes, but then gets annoyed. “Shouldn’t you be asking if they’re my friends?”
Ash shrugs. “You didn’t look that close. Plus, they all had that geeky IT vibe.”
“How do you know I work in IT?”
There’s the slightest of pauses. “Dawson told me.”
If this was his first time meeting Ash, he could’ve easily missed it.
But after getting to know him—unwillingly—over the course of the past few weeks, Kieran’s picked up on some things.
Like, for example, that Ash never hesitates.
He always has a witty remark at the ready, an explanation for everything.
Dawson didn’t tell you shit.
“Uh-huh.” Kieran doesn’t try to hide his skepticism, but doesn’t press Ash further. It’s not like his job is a secret. Like any other person, he has a LinkedIn and FB profile, easily accessible to anyone.
Did the fucker actually look me up?