Page 150 of Should Our Stars Collide

Stepping outside feels like stepping into another world, a real one, a better one. When fresh air hits his face, it’s like an invisible line being drawn between his past and his present, removing the shackles he’s spent so much time pretending were never there.

“You okay?” Kieran asks, features tight with concern, the plasticky sweetness gone. “That was rough.”

Ash squeezes his hand and smiles. “Never better.” It’s true. He’s never felt more free.

Kieran watches him, maybe trying to gauge if he’s lying or not. Whatever he finds must satisfy him, and he leads them to the parking lot.

Since Kieran has brought his car, they have to make their way home separately. The ride is short, only a few minutes, but even that brief time apart has needles prickling along Ash’s skin. He wants Kieran close. Heneedshim close, like he’ll die if he doesn’t touch him. Maybehe’s developing separation anxiety? Totally Kieran’s fault, by the way.

The lift ride upstairs is silent, simply because there are so many unspoken things that it’s hard to settle on one. Kieran must interpret the quiet differently, though, casting wary glances in Ash’s direction.

“Look,” he starts once they’re inside the apartment, defensiveness rolling off of him. “If you’re gonna bitch about me not listening to y?—”

Ash scoops him up, deposits him on the kitchen island, and kisses every doubt and worry out of him. Kieran tastes like the dessert he ate, and it tastes so, so sweet, the hint of whiskey giving it the slightest bitter kick.

He’s dazed and flushed when Ash pulls back, a sheepish smile growing on his lips.

“So…you’re not upset?”

Ash hums, giving Kieran’s bottom lip a little nip. “I’m very torn between punishing you for disobeying me, and going down on my knees and staying there until you come your brains out.”

Kieran blinks. Once, twice. Three times. “Well, the former is not applicable because you asked me to stay put as myboyfriend,” he reasons, expression hopeful. And excited.

“Is that right?”

“Yup.”

“In that case…” Ash’s smirk is full of promise. He starts his descent to the floor when the state of the kitchen catches his eye. He had been too busy thinking of all the ways to devour Kieran to notice before. “Kieran?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s this?”

Brows drawing together, Kieran twists his neck to see behind him. His lips part on a nearly silentah shitas he takes in the wide open cabinets, rearranged crockery, and misplaced furniture. When he turns back to Ash, there are a couple of sweat droplets beading on his hairline.

“Oh. Haha. Funny story.” He lifts a hand, the thumb andforefinger almost touching but leaving a slight gap in between. “I was ateensybit upset about you leaving me behind, so…”

“So you made a mess?”

“This doesn’t qualify as a mess. It’s—it’s just a lack of…organization, is what it is,” he babbles. His mouth curves up in a nervous smile. “Am I still getting the blowie?”

Ash lets his voice drop low and leans forward as if going for a kiss. As Kieran’s eyelids flutter, he says, “You’re getting something alright.”

“No, wait—Aah!” Kieran shrieks when Ash throws him over his shoulder, aiming his steps towards the bedroom. “I’m sorry! I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it right now!” His legs flutter in the air, hands clutching the back of Ash’s shirt.

His hardening dick pokes Ash’s armpit.

Ash smirks. “I have a better idea.”

So many ideas.

33

Kieran won’t lie—he fucking enjoyed ripping Ash’s parents a few new ones. While the circumstances were rather tragic, having the opportunity to stand up for someone he cares about gave him the sort of high he’s been looking for his whole life. His future self had told him not to hold back, and for once having a short fuse and no filter came in handy.

Ash must think so too, because instead of getting upset about Kieran’s interference, he enthusiastically shows his ‘appreciation’ (although there’s a punishment involved for throwing a tantrum and messing up the apartment).

It starts with Ash absolutely ruining him. Thoroughly, unapologetically. Kieran can barely walk the next morning, and the bastard has the nerve to look smug about it over coffee, like he hadn’t left him clinging to the bedsheets and muttering threats he was too wrung out to follow through on. And also unable to follow through on because Ash looks happy. Really fucking happy. Kieran thought he already was, but it’s like comparing a warm but cloudy day to one filled with sunshine. And margaritas.