Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Truman led him to the couch by the arm.
Ash looked at him, eyes miserable. He seemed to start to speak several times, but each time, he said nothing.
“Is it your mom?” Truman tried. “Is she okay?”
“She’s the same as usual,” Ash said.
“Did she end up having those people over for coffee?”
“Yeah.”
Truman was at a loss.
“Can I…do something?”
Ash seemed to deflate. He blew out a breath and sank deep into the couch.
“Do you think maybe I could hang out here for a little bit?” Ash finally said.
Truman’s heart flooded with relief.
“Yes! Oh my god, of course. Please, hang out.”
“You were reading,” Ash said.
“That’s okay.”
“I mean…um…would you want to read it to me too?”
Ash couldn’t know this, but reading to someone and being read to were two of Truman’s favorite things. “Yeah, I’d love it. Do you wanna lie in bed? It’s more comfortable.”
Ash nodded and shambled to the bedroom, zombielike.
But clearly whatever was bothering him, he didn’t want to discuss it right now, so Truman settled next to him on the bed instead and picked up his book. “I really think we should start at the beginning,” he said, showing Ash the cover of book one.
“You can just read to me starting from wherever you were.”
Truman waved him away. “I’ve read these a million times. I can start anywhere. And if you’re giving me an opportunity to introduce you to the series, we are one hundred percent starting at the beginning. You need to understand the character arcs and emotional stakes!”
That got a small smile out of Ash, who acquiesced. Then he nestled into Truman’s side and listened as Truman read the first sentence of the first book of the Dead of Zagørjič series.
An hour later, Truman’s voice was threatening to give out, and he could sense Ash starting to drift off. He put the book aside and slid down beside Ash.
“Can I stay?” Ash murmured.
“Please.”
And Truman was asleep within minutes, drifting off in the peace of Ash’s strong arms and steady heartbeat.
***
Truman awoke with the feeling of being watched. When he opened his eyes, he realized it was because Ash was gazing at him.
“Hey.” Truman smiled and kissed Ash’s full lower lip.
But Ash didn’t kiss him back.
Something scared and desperate clawed awake in Truman’s gut. “You okay?”
“No,” Ash said miserably.
He sat up, and Truman, feeling too vulnerable lying down, sat up also. “What’s wrong?”
“Truman, I…” Ash tugged on his hair with his fist. “I can’t do this.”
Truman blinked fast, trying to hold back tears.
Oh my god, it’s happening again. There’s something wrong with me. No one wants me. Everyone stops liking me. I’ll never find someone who actually wants to be with me long term. What’s wrong with me?!
“It’s too hard,” Ash choked out. “I thought about it all day yesterday. I came here to tell you last night, and I…I chickened out. I’m sorry. I couldn’t stand not having one more night with you. But I just can’t do this.”
“Do what, exactly?”
His voice sounded thin and choked.
“I can’t like you this much and watch you leave.”
All Truman could do was blink.
“So you wanna stop…liking me.”
Ash shook his head. “That’s impossible. But I just…I’m sorry. It’s just too much. Feeling like I have a par—” He swallowed hard. “I’m already starting to depend on having you here. But knowing you’ll be gone in two weeks…it’s too… I think it’s better. Easier. If we stop now. Before I… Just before I can’t take it anymore.”
Truman was frozen, his heart shuddering to a halt with paralytic cold. “Can we…talk about it?”
“I can’t,” Ash said miserably.
Truman felt like something was happening that he should have some control over, but he didn’t. So he defaulted to what he’d always said in the past when people broke up with him, and in saying it, he slid back into a version of himself that now felt like it didn’t quite fit.
“Oh,” he heard himself say, as if from a great distance. “I understand.”
“You do?”
Now that Ash had dumped him, all Truman wanted was for him to leave before Truman fell apart.
“Sure. Yeah. I get it.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Truman said numbly.
Ash frowned, then nodded once, like this wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Truman was excruciatingly aware of every gesture of Ash’s leave-taking. The way he slid his keys in the pocket of his worn jeans. The plane of his shoulders beneath his sweater as he shrugged into his coat. How a lock of hair clung to his cheek as he stepped into his boots. At the door, he turned, began to say something, and seemed to think better of it. He waved and walked away.
Truman slunk slowly back into the bedroom, buried himself in Greta’s bed, and pulled the covers over his head. They smelled like Ash. Fuck.
He must’ve fallen back asleep, because when he woke later, the sun was pouring in through the windows and he had to pee badly.