I'll Share With You My Heartbeat

thirty two

I don't care what path you choose going forward, even if I'm not in it.

Kieran spent the afternoon watching over the boy's sleeping figure, the shape of his body curled in the sheets.

As soon as their little dance session was over, Kieran dragged Lennon back home and tucked him into bed. The chestnut boy was protesting, going on about the college work that he didn't get to finish. But exhaustion weighed on his eyelids and he reluctantly gave up that fight.

"Feed Socks."

Kieran failed to suppress a grin. "I will."

The feline had welcomed them with a very fond loud purr when the pair entered the door.

"Stay this time," Lennon muttered, hand stretching across the mattress to clasp Kieran's, "would you?"

The ravenhead watched with a heavy heart as their skin sank into each other's. "Okay."

And he was out like a light.

Kieran pushed open the windows for better air circulation, embracing the gentle chill that swept into the honey-colored bedroom.

He spent moments by the window, observing the busy sun-kissed streets below. Other moments he spent lying next to the boy and staring unabashedly at him. An unfamiliar calm solidified in his bones. He was no longer chasing after unpromising answers or cowering away from his lost passions.

Three hours later, Kieran was strolling into the kitchen to check on Socks' bowl. Being a cat-sitter was not a talent of his, but it wouldn't hurt to see if everything was alright.

"Hey little murderer," he cooed, crouching down and scratching the cat under the chin, "How are you doing?"

Socks completely turned on its back with its paws up, exposing its tummy for Kieran to rub. Surprise painted the ravenhead's features, but he complied anyway.

"You sure are very trusting for a killer," he commented, eyebrow raised before he turned to the kitchen, "Should I make something for him? Though all I remember is Chinese home-cooked food."

As he skimmed past the counter, his eyes landed on the phone Lennon left by the stove before Kieran managed to usher him to bed.

Suddenly he remembered the call Lennon had received just before they decided to leave the studio and he began to panic.

Shit, Kieran thought, Didn't Len say it was from work? Does he need to work today?

Without a second thought, he picked up the phone and the screen came to life.

1 missed call from—

Kieran froze.

Precious

That eerie calm feeling of his dissolved into the floorboards, replaced by confusion. He shook his head, planting the phone back down and backing away.

I don't care what path you choose going forward, even if I'm not in it.

Weren't those his words? It felt like the perfect thing to say in the moment— full of sacrifice and selflessness. But to what extent did he mean it? Had he not considered a path where Lennon would find another, or rekindle a past flame?