Chapter 35
Kieran wakes with a pounding headache and a mouth that tastes like something died in it. His stomach churns, and the light slicing through the window makes it worse. Is he hungover? But he can’t recall drinking last night.
For a moment he lies there, trying to will the world back into focus, but something is off.
Actually, everything is off. The mattress is too soft, the pillow too low.
He can barely detect Ash’s scent, just a faint trace of it, and when he flings his arm out, expecting warmth and heartbeat, he only finds cool sheets.
No.
He sits up too fast, the whole room spinning—a room he didn’t fall asleep in last night, but that’s familiar, nonetheless.
He’s back, just like he’d been asking for. Just as he knew he’d eventually be.
He knew, but it still fucking hurts.
The future he’d lived is gone. The apartment, the banter, the mornings tangled up together, and all the quiet moments where Ash held him like he was worth holding.
Even the stupid cat who could barely tolerate him, and the found family he didn’t ask for but wouldn’t change for the world—it’s all gone.
Like it was never his to begin with. Like he’d only borrowed it, tasted it for a while, and now he’s been shoved back into a life that doesn’t fit anymore.
He curls into a ball, letting the swell of grief break over him.
There’s no point fighting it. He sits there, on cooling sheets that don’t smell like Ash, like them, and cries into his knees until his tears run dry.
It takes a long time, but once he’s done, his mind starts to clear, and the pit in his stomach fills with burning determination.
He’s back, so what? He just needs to make sure the future he wants will be there waiting for him in two years.
Which means he has work to do.
First things first.
As much as he wants to run to Ash and announce they’re now in a relationship, effective immediately, he forces himself to slow down. Take it easy.
Point one on the list is to tame this stupid hangover; funny how waking up like this used to be a regular occurrence. He’d wake up feeling like shit and looking even worse, then head to work. But after practically abstaining the whole time he was with Ash, it now feels like the worst pain ever.
Conveniently, he finds a glass of water and two Panadol on the nightstand. No note, but he doesn’t mind. The small act reminds him that Ash is thinking of him, even now, even when they’re nothing to each other just yet. It’s a fragment of connection he can cling to.
He throws the pills back, then digs through the drawers for a notepad and a pen. It’s gonna be tricky since his brain is not 100% right now, but he needs to write down all the video content, time-stamps, and lottery numbers while they’re still fresh in his memory.
When he’s done, almost two hours later, his headache has dulled to an annoying throb between his eyes. He gets up, stretches stiff limbs, and works on making himself presentable, briefly mourning the absence of his toned abs as he undresses. It was nice while it lasted.
He shoots an email to HR with a last-minute sick leave request, then makes quick work of showering and brushing his teeth. He doesn’t know why he feels like he needs to rush—Ash isn’t going anywhere—but restless mode has been activated. He needs to see Ash, now.
First stop? Lost and Ground. He’s still convinced the damned café is cursed, but for once it might work in his favor.
Ash is bound to drop by, for coffee or to talk to Gabe, and Kieran is happy to wait.
Waiting beats ambushing Ash at work or following him home (especially since he doesn’t know where Ash lives).
Not wanting to risk an accident, he doesn’t take the car. The walk should sober him up, at least. He throws on his best clothes and heads out.
That the café is indeed under the influence of some witchy shit is confirmed when Kieran arrives only to bump into Ash at the front door.
He stops in his tracks when his gaze falls on Kieran, a cup in his hand and a stunned look on his face.
What he’s getting so wide-eyed for, Kieran has no idea.
He just saw him last night, after shamelessly flirting the whole time.
“Hey,” Kieran croaks, his face splitting on a wide grin he’s helpless to stop. His heart is going a hundred miles per minute, his hands twitching with the impulse to reach for Ash, the two timelines clashing in his brain.
“Hey,” Ash says back, side-stepping to make room for a man trying to get inside. “You look better.”
Yeah, let’s not think about how embarrassing he was yesterday.
“I feel better.” He takes a step forward, noting a slight tension in Ash’s shoulders. “Thanks for dragging my ass home.”
“Don’t mention it.” Wow. Aloof much? As if hearing himself, Ash clears his throat, his voice softening. “Did you sleep okay?”
Kieran almost laughs. “I had the craziest dream.”
“About?”
“Us.”
Instead of coming up with some smartass-y, perverted comment, Ash just stares, blinking owlishly.
Kieran chuckles at his dumbfounded expression and continues. “We lived together in this fancy, expensive apartment, and had a cat named Tequila.”
Ash presses his lips together, his eyes sparkling. Naturally, he thinks Kieran is making a joke. “Some dream.”
Kieran hums in agreement. “Felt like a nightmare at first, but in the end I didn’t wanna wake up.” He watches Ash’s face, which gives him nothing. What the heck is going on? He thought Ash would be all over that dream story, flirting up a storm like the shameless little slut he is.
Kieran decides on a more direct approach. “I thought you’d stay till morning.”
Ash’s lips part, about to say something, then close. After a moment, he says, “I didn’t think you’d appreciate it.”
What a load of—
Yeah, okay. Makes sense. He has been very back-and-forth. “Fair enough. I realize I’ve been sending ambiguous messages. For future reference, you’re welcome to stay the night.”
“Future reference? How often are you planning on drinking yourself under the table?”
Kieran would argue that it wasn’t that bad. He was able to walk just fine, and he could still string together a sentence.
But Ash is rocking that disapproving teacher look, his mouth set in a strict line.
Kieran, while mildly chastised and a little intimidated, focuses on directing his blood flow north. Jesus, a few weeks with Ash have turned him into a sex-fiend.
“Not as often as I used to,” he promises. “But that’s not what I meant. I meant, you’re welcome to stay the night…if you ever feel like it.”
He looks at Ash through his eyelashes, maintaining a deceptively innocent expression. Ash is a sucker for that one, seeing through Kieran’s bullshit and yet unable to resist.
Kieran holds his breath, waiting for the answer. Ash will probably try to play it cool so as to not give away what a dork he really is, or how eager he is to become part of Kieran’s life. That’s why he’s taking his time, pretending to mull it over while—
“Thank you. But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Kieran’s thoughts come to a screeching halt. “Come again?”
Ash sighs. “I realize I’ve been laying it on thick and that I’ve been rather relentless with the flirting. You’re just…” A wry smile passes over his lips. “Very captivating.”
Kieran smirks. “You don’t say.”
“But I was wrong.” The smirk slides right off. “I don’t believe we’re a good fit. I’ll keep my distance from now on.”
Kieran lets the words hang in the air, waiting for the moment Ash laughs and says he’s pulling his leg.
Except, he doesn’t.
“I beg your fucking pardon?” Kieran demands. “Did you just blow me off?”
Ash flinches, maybe from guilt, maybe from something else Kieran doesn’t give a flying fuck about.
“I’m sorry for confusing you. I misjudged the situation. I didn’t mean to mess with your feelings.”
“Misjudged the situation,” Kieran echoes, voice dripping with derision. “Misjudged how? Suddenly I’m not fuckable enough for you?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Ash says quietly.
“Then what are you saying exactly? Because I don’t understand a single fucking word.”
Kieran’s nails dig into his palms, the pain distracting him from the burning in his eyes.
His chest is tight as if there’s a boulder sitting on top of him, and pulling in air hurts his lungs.
Chaos reigns inside his head, each panicked thought trying to win over the next, creating an incomprehensible mess.
The familiar scent of roasted almonds cuts through to him.
“Kieran. Kieran, breathe.” Ash’s hand is on the side of his neck, warm and steady, grounding him. “Nice, deep breaths.”
It feels like breathing in scorching air, but he does as he’s told. It’s always easier if Ash tells him to do it.
“I don’t get you,” he gasps out once he’s regained some control of his voice.
“How did you change your mind overnight?” He can hear the desperation in his voice, but can’t bring himself to care.
He doesn’t even care that everyone in the café and in the street is probably watching them.
He rests his forehead against Ash’s chest, not missing how hard his heart is pounding.
“I thought I had you all figured out,” Ash tells him, fingers stroking his hair. “That I knew what you needed, and that I could give it to you. I was wrong.”
Kieran looks up. “No. I—”
“You’ll forget about me soon enough,” Ash interrupts. “And I’ll make sure not to show my face around here too much. Take care, Kieran.” With that, he kisses Kieran’s temple, lingering way too long for someone who’s set on disappearing from his life, and leaves.
Just. Like. That.
“Wait.” By the time he gathers himself, Ash is gone. Kieran stays rooted to the same spot, feeling completely, utterly lost.
His gaze wanders aimlessly, as if he could find an answer, an explanation written somewhere.
He locks eyes with Gabe through the café window.
He can’t imagine what he looks like right now, but Gabe rounds the counter, walking towards the door, and that finally prompts Kieran to move.
He doesn’t even know how he’d start to explain himself if he got bombarded with questions.
How would he explain that he spent weeks in his future, only to come back and find out that future is forever gone?
Like everything else in his life he ever believed could be his to keep.
He was stupid for thinking this time would be different.
He wipes away tears and runs.