Page 30 of Killing Me Softly

“Noted.”

Aaron waited a beat, then his brain probably told him he had to ask. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Because if he did, he’d only lie.

“Then go to sleep.” Aaron wriggled, pushing Kenny off to curl up in front of him, allowing Kenny to spoon behind him and go back to the simple way things could be between them.

God, he fucking loved this man.

chapter eight

I Only Lie When I Love You

For the first time ever, Aaron woke first.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, draping the room in a golden glow. It was warm. A bit too warm. And Aaron shifted, glancing behind him at Kenny, still there, still wrapped around him, loose but present, as if even in sleep he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

Aaron’s heart twisted. Kenny looked so vulnerable, so undone in a way Aaron had never seen before. A man who was always composed, always in control, now stripped of every carefully constructed layer, left raw in the drowsy morning light. Kenny rarely relinquished control, but last night had broken something in him. His grip hadn’t loosened all night, only softened as exhaustion dragged him into a deep, comatose sleep.

Aaron ran his fingertips along Kenny’s arm, the fine hairs tingling his skin. He wanted to do something—anything—to take Kenny’s pain away. To shoulder some of it. Absorb even a fraction of the burden. But what couldheoffer? Who the fuck was he to even try?

Aaron’s stomach churned with self-doubt. He wished he knew the right words. Wished he could fix this. Instead, he was just… here. Saying nothing. Letting Kenny use him. Fuck him. Cling to him. Fall apart on him. And he didn’t mind—not really—but it made him feel helpless. Merely a placeholder when he wanted to be thesolution.

Would he ever be Kenny’s solution? The answer to his fears?

Aaron snorted. As if he was anything other than Kenny’sproblem.

Coming back here had been a gamble. He’d listened to everything Mel had said. About giving Kenny time. Waiting for Kenny to come to him when he was ready. She hadn’t used names, of course, but the advice had been clear. Be patient. Don’t push. But the thought of waitingdays,weeks—fuck,months—had left Aaron spiralling. He wasn’t built for waiting. The ache of uncertainty gnawed at him, carving out hollow spaces he couldn’t fill on his own.

So, after he’d finally ushered Mel back to her room, Aaron had snuck out. He’d walked back to Kenny’s, expecting—hoping—to find him home. The sight of the empty driveway had been a kind of relief, a minor victory. No car meant Kenny wasn’t inside barricading himself away. Choosing not to answer his text. Wanting to be alone. Not wanting Aaron to be there at all.

Letting himself in, he’d waited in the living room for a while, pacing, restless. Then, when the silence grew too heavy to bear, he’d crept upstairs into Kenny’s bed.

Now, lying there with Kenny’s arms still loosely draped around him, Aaron realised he hadn’t expected to see Kenny like this. Soft, unguarded, his grief etched into every line of his face, even in sleep. He thought about what he could do other than just be here. What did Kenny do when Aaron was falling apart?

Careful not to wake him, Aaron slipped from his grasp and eased out of the bed. Kenny hardly stirred, apart from shiftingdeeper into the warm imprint Aaron had left on his side. Aaron snorted.His side.Listen to him. Thinking he’d staked some sort of claim on it. But as he pulled on his boxers, he realised with startling clarity that hehadstaked a claim. Thatwashis side of the bed. Pity anyone who tried to take it from him.

Like a cat with their prey, Aaron would cling onto it. To Kenny.

And he had sharp claws with a feral attitude.

He crept out of the room and padded downstairs, heading straight for the kitchen. His thoughts raced as he switched on the light, the soft hum of the fridge filling the silence. Kenny needed to eat. He needed energy if he was going to get through the mess of everything he had to handle for his mum. So he opened the fridge.

Then slammed it shut.

“Bollocks.”

Empty. Barely a few condiments and some wilted greens left over from God-knew-when. Kenny hadn’t stocked up before they’d left for Barcelona. Aaron sighed, running a hand through his hair. No breakfast. No milk for tea. Nothing that could remotely pass as sustenance. He then noted the sleek coffee machine, its shiny buttons and minimalist design. Kenny drank espresso, right? That didn’t need milk. So, where the fuck did the cup go? Aaron poked at the machine cautiously, pulling levers, opening compartments, peering into the spaces as if the answer would materialise. When nothing happened, he smacked the counter in frustration.

This could not be that hard. He couldn’t let a stupid piece of technology defeat him. Not when all he wanted was to do something,anything, for his boyfriend who’d just lost his mother and needed one tiny piece of his day to go right. Aaron froze, his chest tightening as the word formed in his mind.

Boyfriend.

It felt too small, too insignificant, toojuvenilefor what Kenny meant to him. Lover? No. That felt clumsy, hollow, like it cheapened what they had. Though he used it, it was only ever in bed.

So what was Kenny to him?

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