CHAPTER 99: I KEPT EVERYTHING FOR YOU

Chapter NINETY-SEVEN

**KIERAN MORRISON**

"We’re hanging out at Claude’s later. Gaming session like usual. Are you coming?"

I usually didn’t care about their business. They always settled their disputes like an old married couple. But this time, something was different.

It still wasn’t my business to care, only that Claude had been texting me nonstop, asking about Heath’s location. Always the same questions—where was Heath going, who was he with, what he was doing...

I recognised the desperation in Claude’s messages because it was the same obsession I felt whenever I wasn’t with Ollie.

This didn’t mean that they got to include me in their fights.

"No. I’m not interested." Heath grabbed his bag tighter, already backing away. His eyes kept darting to his phone like he was expecting something. "I have... stuff to do."

I studied his face with a lifted brow, noting the way his hands shook slightly.

"What’s going on between you and Claude?"

"Nothing! There’s nothing going on. Why would you think that?" His voice rose defensively.

I scoffed at his lie, but decided to keep the answer to that question to myself, they hadn’t exactly been secretive that night.

"Right, before you run off, you left this at Vince’s place. Claude wanted me to give this to you," I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the sleek black wristwatch

Heath’s eyes widened as he snatched the jewellry from my hand. "Thanks man, I thought I lost this!"

He fumbled with the clasp and strapped it to his wrist.

What I didn’t tell him was that Claude had joked about messing with it, who knew, there was probably a GPS inside at this point.

But I didn’t care, in this way, it meant Claude would stop disturbing me about Heath’s whereabouts.

This was their mess to sort out. I had my own problems to deal with.

Speaking of which...

I spotted my mother the moment I walked back into the house. She was hovering outside my bedroom door like a vulture, her perfectly manicured hands wringing together in that nervous gesture I’d learned to hate.

The faint trace of her expensive perfume hung in the air, and my stomach clenched with something violent and possessive. That foreign scent didn’t belong here, in the space that was mine and Ollie’s.

"Kieran, we need to talk." She said the moment she saw me.

We lived in the same house but I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d spoken to each other. I thought she had given up on me.

Why was she trying again?

"No, we don’t." I moved to walk past her, but she stepped into my path.

"Your father has been calling. He wants to speak with you."

My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. "I’m not interested."

"Kieran, please. He’s been asking for you specifically..."

"I said I’m not interested." I snapped my eyes at her, feeling my resentment stirring deeper.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want anything to do with him."

"But he’s your father, we are still a family, how can you..."

Not this shit again.

"You sound like you don’t even believe it yourself," My voice sounded detached even to my ears, the echo of ’family’ should have provided warmth.

I knew this during the time I spent with Ollie in his house.

Just for that short moment, I felt the affection between his mom and kid sis, I’d even thought about several ways I could slide myself into that warmth that came with Ollie. Because he was mine, I wanted his family to become mine too.

That was what family meant.

I could see tears gathering in my Mom’s eyes, but I felt nothing.

No sympathy, no guilt.

Just the cold emptiness that had lived in my chest since the day my family fell apart.

"Kieran, please..."

But I was already walking away, pushing past her to get to my room. I’d heard enough.

I found something a little weird, the way she gave in too easily these days. In the past, she would always find something to threaten me, to control me.

Like the promises of sending me somewhere abroad, but these days... Well, who cares?

That was her business.

The moment I opened my bedroom door, all thoughts of my parents vanished.

Ollie was sitting on my bed, crying. Not just crying, he was sobbing loudly.

I forgot how to breathe, and even how to walk. The sight of his whole body shaking with sorrow sent panic shooting through my veins like ice water.

I didn’t realize I’d moved until I found myself on the bed, next to him.

"What did she say to you?" My hands were already clenched into fists as I turned back toward the door, ready to hunt down my mother and demand answers.

"No!" Oliver’s hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist before I could leave.

"No, don’t." He repeated, his gaze holding mine and then his fingers found my clenched fists before I even realized they were shaking.

I inhaled sharply, still wondering what my mother had said to make him cry, but his fingers around mine were gentle, and his voice came out in a whisper as he spoke.

"Your hands are cold," He took my other hand, holding both my clenched fists in his smaller hand.

The rage that had been building in my chest faltered, disrupted by the warmth of his skin against mine.

How had I survived without this? Without him reading my body like a language only he spoke?

I looked down at where his fingers circled my wrist, then back at his tear-stained face.

"Ollie, what..." My words halted when I saw it.

The box sitting open on my bed, I had been too anxious to notice what it was.

And now, my entire body went rigid as I saw the contents of my sacred box scattered across the comforter.

My eyes found Ollie’s once again, and then back at the things I’d kept secret for eight years.

The drawings, the photos, the broken toys, all the pieces of our childhood, my obsession with him that I couldn’t bring myself to throw away.

In the center of it all was Ollie’s toy car, Oliver picked it up with shaking fingers, his eyes filling with fresh tears.

"You kept it broken," he whispered, and I felt my throat close up completely.

"I couldn’t fix it,"

Fuck knew I really tried to. Every time I was upset, each time I was overwhelmed and felt the world crashing down on me, I always tried to fix that broken wheel, but for some reason, it never stayed attached to the car, it always kept falling off.

I watched as Oliver cradled the car against his chest, he was crying again.

"Oh, Kieran. You’ve been carrying this alone for so long. Some things can’t be fixed, you just need to let them go,"

The way he said my name like it hurt him to think of me in pain made something crack open in my chest.

He wasn’t just sad about our lost friendship. He was mourning for the boy I used to be, grieving for parts of me I’d thought were dead.

I also wanted to tell him that I couldn’t let it go, my fixation with him, this endless obsession that has blazed in my heart for years.

I had taken that toy car as everything that had gone wrong between us all these years, and even though I couldn’t fix it, so long as it remained with me, I could still try.

But if I’d let it go, I would have nothing.

"Why did you keep everything? Even this stupid drawing I ripped off the other day. If you really don’t know how to let go, what’s going to happen to you?" He spoke the last part in between sobs.

I was confused as hell, what did that mean?

Before I could ask, Oliver launched himself at me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

His grip was tight, almost as though he was afraid that I might disappear.

I remained frozen for a moment, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides. Then instinct kicked in, and I wrapped my arms around his trembling shoulders, pulling him closer.

Ollie shifted when I pulled him closer, adjusting his position, his body melted against mine like he’d been designed to fit in my arms, and the rightness of it made my grip tighten unconsciously.

He’d learned the exact way I needed to hold him.

The realization sent heat spiraling through me.

Ollie had made himself this perfect for me, molded himself to my touch, and the possessive satisfaction that thought brought was overwhelming.

I wanted to be the only person he ever adjusted for. The only one whose needs he anticipated. The only one who got to feel how perfectly he could fit against another person.

"I keep everything you give me, I could live in your world forever" I said quietly, pulling his body tighter against mine so I could feel every warmth of his body heat.

I didn’t add that I preferred actually when he lived in my world, because I had perfect control over what existed in it.

I pressed my lips to the side of his head. His hair smelled like my shampoo, but I perceived something different too.

Faint, but it was still there.

The lingering trace of my mother’s perfume.