He didn’t say anything.
And though Kieran still bent down as usual, allowing me to rise to my tiptoes and welcome him home with a gentle kiss…he didn’t escalate. He wasn’t kissing me back. He wasn’t even touching me.
Fuck.
“Is…Is everything alright, Kieran?”
A discomforting wave of panic was rising from the very worst recesses of my mind, quickly intensifying as the silence between us continued to extend.
It’s happening,I thought miserably.He’s finally realized that this was a mistake. He’s going to tell me we should stop. That we need to go back to being…friends. Just friends.
That inevitable decision, however responsible it may be, made me want to burst into tears. And he still hadn’t said anything.
“…Kieran?”
Despite my efforts to disguise my rising panic, my voice cracked halfway through his name—and that, at least, drew some form of reaction. It brought just a touch of focus back into his gaze, his eyes searching my face with dazed intensity as he reached out to cup my cheek.
As he stroked my jaw with a calloused thumb, I leaned into his touch, clinging to the affection. Hoping like all Hel that this wasn’t the end.
Please don’t let this be the end.
“Kieran, I—”Fuck. The tears were already beginning to form, and I sniffed, attempting to keep them from falling before he could notice.
He noticed.
Finally, a flash of the man I knew seemed to return.
“Fuck, baby, no—I—fuck,” Kieran swore, pulling me into his arms immediately, a hand finding the back of my head and cradling it against his chest. The other began to run up and down my back in a familiar, soothing pattern.
Did he just call me baby?
“Arken, I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice weary and ragged. “Gods, I’m so fucking sorry. I really thought I would be okay by the time I got here. I missed you so fucking bad, I just…I had a really bad day at work.”
“Oh,” I said softly, not entirely sure what else to say.
I had never seen him like this before. I had never seen anyone like this before. I didn’t know what to do, outside of letting him hold me and breathing in his familiar scent.
“Gods, I’m such a jackass. I’m sorry, Arken. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. Please don’t cry. I’m okay. We’re okay.”
Are we really? Are you?
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked instead.
“I can’t,” he rasped. “I wish I could, but I…I’m sorry, Ark. I just—I can’t.”
His expression was pained as I withdrew from his arms, searching his face for answers to the thousands of unanswered questions shooting through my head in rapid succession.
I’ve never seen you like this. What happened? What’s wrong? What does a “really bad day” mean in your line of work, Kieran? What the Hel could possibly leave you, the strongest man I’ve ever known, in this state? Are you sure this isn’t about me? About us? And if it isn’t—what can I do? How can I help? Let me in. Gods, please just let me in.
“Okay,” I said, swallowing the rest.
Give him space, Arken. He doesn’t owe you answers. He doesn’t owe you anything.
“I…I should probably just go home, Arken,” Kieran said, forlorn. “This isn’t fair. You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”
Let him go.
I didn’t have it in me to listen to the voice of reason. I was too selfish.