Sweet Revenge (m|m)

Seventeen - Aaron

I wake up in a strange bed, in a strange room. It takes me a moment to remember where I am and why.

I'm at Kate's, and I'm here because my shop is a smoking pile of ashes.

It's been a week already. Valentine's Day has come and gone, as have the fire inspectors.

Faulty wiring.

Old building.

Too many appliances in a space not designed for industrial use.

My goddamned coffee maker, apparently.

The only good news I'd had was the figure I'd received from the insurance company, and for the hundredth time, I thank my grandma for teaching me to always keep my records accurate and up-to-date. I'd had more than the usual quantity of valuable product on hand, and I could prove it. I'd lost almost everything, but at least I could start over.

I wasn't nearly ready to think about that, though. The grief was too fresh.

My shop hadn't been all that special, really. The building was small, old, and ugly. But it had been mine, and it was my grandma's legacy. When she died, she'd left me everything, and I'd used it all on that shop.

And now it's gone.

After a few more minutes of wallowing, I force myself to get up and dress.

Kate's apartment reflects her character. It's full of bright colors and cute accents.

There's also evidence of her other passion: a massive computer, three monitors, and a wall covered in video game art and design schematics. She's almost done with a degree in computer engineering and already works freelance on Indy stuff. She might act like a ditz, but she's smarter than half this town put together.

My shop was more like a hobby for her, and I don't blame her for not taking it seriously.

At the moment she's visiting her parents, and insisted I stay at her place until I get things figured out.

I don't know exactly what I'm going to do about my business, or about my living situation, but I do know what to do about one thing.

Kate's kitchen is distressingly under-stocked. From the contents of her fridge, I get the sense that the most complicated recipe she's followed in a long time consists of two steps: open package; heat until done.

A trip to the store and a few hours later, and I have what I need. When everything is ready, I stare down at the small, blank card, trying to think of the right words.

Only one thing seems to fit.

I uncap my pen, and in my best hand, I scrawl a simple note.

~♡~

The drive across town seems to take longer than usual. Probably because I'm driving super slow. The charred remains of my shop is not a sight I'm eager to see.

I park across the street and keep my eyes averted from the ruins as I make my away around the back of Ardent Cycles and knock on Blake's door.

It takes him a few minutes to answer, and when he does I see he's still on crutches. His physical therapist was pissed he'd put so much strain on his leg, and told him he'd set himself back on his recovery by at least six months.

He said he didn't care—that he'd do it again, and more, if he had to—and I believed him, but it's clear that he hates the setback.

Worse, he told me his investors pulled out of funding his business. His shop's been closed since the fire, and unless he can find other partners, it probably won't reopen.

It seems we've hit rock bottom at the same time but—if he's willing—maybe we can help each other up.

He opens the door and stares. I haven't seen him since the day after the fire, when we were both too busy with emergency doctor's visits and fire inspectors to really talk the way we needed to.

He looks a little rough around the edges. There's a day's growth of stubble darkening his jaw, and he's dressed in an old t-shirt and a pair of gray sweats.

"Hi," I say, fidgeting on his doorstep.

"Uh, hi," he answers. His eyes slide over me with a hungry look and he swallows, Adam's apple jumping in his throat.

"Can I come in?"

"Oh... sure. Yeah, come on in."

He holds the door open and steps back. Inside, I see boxes on the floor, and the walls are bare.

"Are you... moving?" I ask.

He looks away. "Yeah. I asked the owner to cancel my lease. I won't be able to make the rent on time."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs. "There are some affordable spaces in Fenton. I might move there.

Something squirms in my gut, and I frown. "You don't want to stay in Asherville?"

"Of course I do," he replies, running his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "But that dream ended when my damn investors changed their damn minds."

"What if you could start a new one? A new dream?" I ask.

He looks up and his green-and-gold eyes are bright.

"Honestly, Aaron, I don't know if I have what it takes anymore," he says quietly.

I swallow and hold his gaze. "What if you didn't have to dream alone? What if you... had someone to dream with?"

I take what I've been hiding behind my back and hold it out to him. My heart's pounding and my hand shakes.

He looks at what I offer and his eyes widen. He takes it, and for a moment he's perfectly still. Then, he drops it on the floor.