Chapter 25

"WAIT, WAIT." SPRAWLEDout across from Ash, Laurel made a frantic gesture with his hands to stop him from continuing to read the book he'd been reciting from. "They're totally about to fuck."

Flipping over to the next page, Ash skimmed down it. "Looks like it."

"You're not going to read that part out loud, are you?"

Tilting his head, he gave a comically sober look. "There could be integral plot points in this scene. We can't skip it."

"Or you're just a dirty pervert and you like the idea of making me listen to you describe two guys fucking. Besides, kids keep running by us." They were lounging in the park, on a blanket they'd spread out over the ground. It was a perfect, clear day, and they were far from the only ones taking advantage of it. There seemed to be couples everywhere, and families with kids flying kites and tossing discs back and forth.

Ash had been back for a few days already, and still hadn't quite been able to pin down whatever had gotten Laurel so worked up at the café. He'd been uncharacteristically clingy and anxious since he'd come back, but Ash had finally convinced him to spend some time outside, just for some fresh air. The crowded park seemed a safe option for that.

"If you'd rather, I could silently skip ahead and then just re-enact it on you."

"I knew you were an exhibitionist." Reaching over, Laurel plucked the book out of his hands and snapped it closed.

"I can neither confirm nor deny," Ash responded. There were some things he figured would go over better once they were at a more stable, definite phase of their relationship. "But I suppose you're right."

Inhaling a deep breath of clean air, Laurel laid back onto the blanket, staring up into the sky. "My parents are talking about taking a weekend out to our beach house in a few weeks now that it's warming up."

"You'll go with them?" Ash questioned, recalling the lovely waterfront property from Laurel's memory. He also recalled the gleeful abandon Laurel had exhibited during their own little trip to the ocean.

"Ingrid and I always go with them," he confirmed, somewhat dreading the next thought he knew he had to voice.

Alerted by the sudden pricks of nerves, Ash glanced down to him. "Is there something else you wanted to say?"

"Well, they… They wanted to know if you'd like to come with us. You don't have to if you don't want to," he added awkwardly. "I mentioned about us going out to the beach with Nero and everyone before and so they thought maybe you'd like it."

Charmed as usual by Laurel's attempts at indifference, Ash smiled. "Is there room for me?"

"There's an extra room for guests, but… I would want you with me."

"You don't think that would be awkward for everyone?"

"I'm pretty sure they don't think we've been sleeping apart all these nights."

"But knowing and seeing is a different thing," Ash reminded him.

"I'm not saying I want you to rail me with just a thin wall between them and us," he answered flatly, before narrowing his eyes. "Though I'm sure it wouldn't be from lack of trying on your part."

Coughing into his hand to try and disguise his laugh, Ash shook his head. "Rest assured my fear of invoking Helio's wrath supersedes any fantasies I might have about that."

Because the idea of being heard by his vatra gave him a nauseous feeling, Laurel could only exhale in relief at Ash's response. "Then I guess we won't have any problems." Satisfied with that, Laurel settled back to stare up at the sky again.

"Do you see shapes in the clouds?" Ash wondered. To his surprise, Laurel sighed wistfully and nodded a bit.

"Actually, yeah. I was thinking about…" He hesitated a bit, knowing it would sound silly, but then remembered who he was with. "I was thinking about this set of wineglasses I made, a few years back. They had these whimsical, twisty stems. They were hideous," he added. "But they sold very well at an art gallery auction."

"Really?" Ash said, amused that the sorcerer himself hadn't liked them but hadn't minded selling them anyway. "How much did you make for them?" When Laurel offhandedly named a figure, Ash felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop. "You're joking, right?"

"Well, this was at the height of my popularity," Laurel explained, vaguely embarrassed by the reaction. "People were snapping up everything I made. And I didn't even decide the prices, I let someone else take care of all that. I just collected my cut."

Still, it was more than Ash could usually make in a year's worth of working. These wealthy nobles really blew his mind at times. He supposed even he had underestimated Laurel's success at such a young age.

"What did you do with all that money?" Ash wondered.

"I used a little to buy clothes and stuff like that, but my dad made me put most of it into a savings account for when I'm on my own. Plus, Ingrid and I have trust funds, so…" Bringing up his hefty trust fund when he knew Ash had worked so hard for everything he had, Laurel had to resist the urge to squirm.

"Yeah, I figured that."

Unwilling to glance over to see the other man's expression, Laurel tried to sound casual. "Does that bother you?"

"Maybe it did at first," he admitted. "Only because, I guess, I'd imagined something else for my life. But I was being unreasonable."

Somewhat surprised by the statement, Laurel rolled onto his side. "So it doesn't bother you anymore?"

"No, it doesn't. I'm happy that our kids will have it easier than I did. They won't have to worry about anything."

"Our kids." Plucking at the threads of the blanket, Laurel inhaled a deep breath. "You're very confident about that, aren't you?"

"What, you don't think I'd be a good vatra?" Though the question was heavy, Ash's tone was light.

"Of course you would. It's not you I worry about." As the words left his lips, Laurel realized he'd never acknowledged that particular worry out loud before, that he had doubts about ever being a good parent. He was too impatient, and too temperamental.

"We're still young," Ash responded, not sounding concerned by Laurel's confession. "Well, you are, anyway."

Snorting a bit, relieved by his lover's casual acceptance of his flaws, Laurel shook his head. "You're not that much older."

Ash gave a dramatic sigh for comedic effect. "Tell that to my knees."

When in another hour or so the sun began to set, and the park was mostly emptied, they bundled up their blanket and prepared to leave. As stars began to dot the sky, Laurel threaded his arm through Ash's as they walked.

"Would you like me to take you home, or would you like to stay with me tonight?" Ash asked, though he already knew the answer.

"I want to sleep with you."

As they walked, they talked about the beach house and the things they could do there, as well as the songs Laurel had heard Ingrid play and when her next concert might be.

Once they were back to Ash's room, Laurel settled cross-legged onto the bed while Ash was in the bathroom. Eyeing the book he'd set on the nightstand, he reflected on how nice it was to have someone read to him, and hoped Ash would continue where they'd left off. He had a hunch that the events coming in the story might provide some inspiration for what they could end the night with. Not that Ash seemed to need any inspiration for that, Laurel thought. Any lingering doubts he might have had regarding his own desirability had long since been obliterated in the face of the healer's near constant craving for him.

Something in his peripheral vision had him automatically turning toward the dresser across the room, where Ash kept the few outfits he'd brought with him from home, as well as a few trinkets, and a small stack of brochures and ticket stubs from tourist attractions he had visited. Not immediately sure of what exactly had drawn his eye in that direction, Laurel felt an ominous chill travel up his spine as he rose from the edge of the bed and moved toward it.

He felt his knees go weak and nearly buckle as a wave of understanding hammered into his brain. Sitting atop the dresser, completely out of place, was a blank sheet of paper. It had a pearly, glossy sheen to it, with an ornate border printed around the edge. He'd gotten a vague sense of recognition when he'd held the same exact same style of paper in his room when he'd been checking his mail, but only now did he remember exactly where he knew it from.

This was the stationery Malory kept on the desk in his bedroom. Every note Laurel had ever received from him, usually accompanying a gift of some sort, had been on this paper. He'd burned all of those notes shortly after their breakup, but memories of them flashed through his head now like a morbid slide-show.

With his palms already slicked with sweat and his heart pounding in his chest, Laurel took another step toward the dresser. It was only a piece of paper, but it felt as dangerous as an explosive. As he reached out to pick it up, confirming that it was as blank as the one he'd received in the mail, he heard the knob on the bathroom door rattle as Ash came out.

"What's wrong?" He asked, recognizing Laurel's intense anxiety as soon as he stepped in.

"Did you get this in the mail?" Laurel asked, feeling strangely disconnected from the sound of his own voice.

Confused by the question and how the other man's mood could have plummeted so rapidly in the few minutes they'd been apart, Ash shook his head. "I don't know where that came from. Someone must have left it in here while they were cleaning or something."

"Was it in here this morning when you woke up?"

"I don't know," Ash responded, incredulous. "It's just a piece of paper. It's not something I would have really noticed. What are you so upset about?"

Laurel couldn't bring himself to answer as more grim images continued playing in his brain. All the strange things he couldn't explain that had happened to him lately were now very clear. Malory had been warning him, subtly at first, but the grace period was over. He could hear the older male's voice, clear as day in his head, ordering him to end it with Ash. Because he'd ruined Malory's relationship, then he wouldn't be allowed to have one either.

And this most particular warning was a very succinct reminder that Malory was a sorcerer, too. His raw power didn't come close to Laurel's (before he'd been handicapped by all the stress and trauma, anyway), but he didn't need to be particularly powerful to do damage to someone like Ash. Especially if he could get into his room whenever he pleased, like he'd clearly done to leave the paper there. Laurel knew that little trick particularly well, as he'd used it himself over the years. First to sneak around and see Nero without anyone knowing, then later to torture March in his pathetic little fits of jealousy. Maybe he was more like Malory than he wanted to believe.

"Laurel?" Ash repeated, unnerved by the silence and the desolate, horrified expression on his face. "Do you want to clue me in on what the hell is going on with you?"

Still unable to answer, Laurel could only shake his head as a wave of nausea crashed over him, sending him speeding into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Completely unnerved by everything going on, Ash could only stand and listen in horror at the sounds of Laurel being violently sick. He felt as though everything he'd been working toward, everything he'd been so sure he was just about to finally have, was slipping through his fingertips. He loved Laurel so much, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that the feelings were mutual. The foreboding ominous feeling he'd been carrying around with him was coming to fruition now, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. But did he really have anything to worry about? They were bonded now, through a process so rare and precious that he couldn't have dreamed it up if he'd tried. Stubborn and terrified by intimacy as he was, even Laurel wouldn't reject something like that, would he?

He received his answer a handful of minutes later, when Laurel emerged from the bathroom. The expression on his face was steeled now, as if in determination. It didn't help to quell Ash's intense apprehension about the precarious situation.

Laurel could feel Ash's eyes on him as he crossed the room to gather up various pieces of his clothing that were strewn around the room.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm picking up my stuff," Laurel responded. "Is that not obvious?" He knew his tone was harsh. For once, it wasn't an involuntary snap of temper. He'd already made his decision about what he was going to do, and he knew the only way to accomplish that would be to hurt Ash's feelings as much as humanly possible.

"I meant why are you doing that now? If you just sit down and talk to me, we can figure out whatever's going on."

"Am I not allowed to pick up my stuff?"

"You're allowed to do whatever makes you happy. It's just a weird time for you to do that."

"You know, I'm really tired of you psychoanalyzing me all the time." The words, which might have been something Ash could smile at if they'd held Laurel's typical tone of teasing, stung. "You're like my stalker or something. I can't even turn around without you asking me if I'm okay or babying me."

"I'm sorry if you feel like I'm crowding you," Ash responded, hating how stiff the words sounded coming from his mouth. "Am I not allowed to be concerned about you?"

"I'm fine. I don't need you to worry about me."

For the first time in their relationship, Ash wasn't sure what to say to fix things. He watched as Laurel went around the room snatching up his belongings and shoving them into the bag he'd already partially filled with his clothes.

"What are you doing?" He asked, fully aware of how pathetic and insecure his words sounded, particularly the second time he'd asked. But he couldn't help it. He'd never, ever doubted his future with Laurel since seeing him that first day at the café, but the indifferent attitude toward him now was something new. It felt like his heart was unraveling, painfully.

Groaning a little in his throat, Laurel pinched the bridge of his nose, a clear sign of his irritation. "I'm leaving. I have an appointment with my therapist tomorrow, and I'm going to sleep at home."

"I can come to your house and take you," Ash offered. Again, his voice sounded pitiable to his own ears. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"No," Laurel refused. "I don't want you to."

"Then I'll pick you up after. Or… Or you can come back here, and we'll-"

"This isn't working, Ash."

Though he'd expected them, the words slammed into him like a brick wall. Panic bubbled up from inside him, from his chest, where he could feel his heart suspended in the mass of Laurel's fiery aura. The urge to deny the claim that things weren't working, to beg him to stay, was so strong it nearly brought him to his knees. But the force of the shock of Laurel's words had awakened something else in him, too.

This wasn't him. This panicky, insecure, hesitant person wasn't who he was. Ash had always been able to trust his instincts, so his confidence regarding his future rarely, if ever, faltered. His future with Laurel should be no different, despite the agony the rejection was causing him.

"What are you talking about?" He managed. "Everything was fine until a few minutes ago."

"That's not true. You're…" Struggling to come up with words heinous enough to sound convincing, Laurel did his best to ignore the burning in his stomach. "You really creep me out when you keep bringing up marriage and kids all the time. I know you like living in your little fantasy world and all that, but even you have to recognize how crazy that is, right?"

"Alright," Ash forced out the casual response. If that was the way it was going to be, then that was the way it would be. Taking a deep breath, he moved across the room to take a seat on the bed. "If that's how you feel, then what would you like me to do?"

"Do whatever you want. Like I said, I'm going home, then I'm going to my appointment tomorrow, and then… Then I don't know what I want, but I know it isn't this. It isn't you."

"You don't want me." Ash phrased it as a confirmation.

"You're smothering me. The last thing I need right now is a guy who wants to crowd me and control every move I make. I'd have stayed with Malory if I wanted to end up like that."

Once again, Laurel's words hit him like a slap. He recoiled from them, eyes wide with shock. Laurel had compared him to Malory, of all people. But he'd already made his decision about how to deal with the situation, and he wasn't going back now. He felt it was his only chance to make things right.

"If that's what you think I've done, then I understand why you don't want to be with me."

"You're not going to fight me on this?" Laurel asked, eyes narrowed, his bag slung over his shoulder and one hip cocked against the door.

"If this is truly what you want, then there's nothing I can say. I told you from the beginning if you ever seriously decide you don't want me around, then I'll go."

There was a long pause of silence as they stared at each other, absorbing the words and the situation. Finally, with one hand resting on the doorknob, Laurel took a deep breath.

"Thank you, for everything, Ash. I really do mean that."

Tilting his head a little, the healer gave a small nod. "I only did what I said I would. Your gratitude isn't necessary."

Shaking his head, Laurel crossed his arms over his chest, finding that he couldn't quite meet Ash's verdant gaze anymore. "Since things didn't work out like you wanted, I can make sure you get paid whatever Nero promised."

"I don't need you to manage my money. I've been doing this for a long time. If I want to be financially compensated, then I'll address it with Nero myself."

"Fine."

Finally rising from the bed as well, Ash crossed the room to the door where Laurel stood. Laurel felt his heart speed up as the healer approached. He'd changed for sleep in the bathroom, so he was only wearing loose-fitting sweats that hung low on his hips and no shirt. Determined not to look down at Ash's strong, toned body, Laurel kept his eyes locked on the wall beside them.

He didn't want to think about all the things that deliciously muscled body had done for him. Holding him while he'd cried about Malory after Ingrid's concert, stroking his hair when he'd felt overwhelmed by things, mind-blowing kisses that left him dizzy and reeling. Not to mention sex that had never failed to have his back arching and his toes curling in absolute ecstasy, so different from all the times he'd ever been fucked before.

Half-expecting the healer to reach out to him, Laurel's muscles tensed, and he braced himself to jerk away. But to his surprise, Ash only reached past him to open the door.

"I wish you the best, Laurel. And I hope you figure out what you want from your life. You deserve to be happy."

"That's a very selfless speech, considering I'm dumping you."

"I'm just being honest about how I feel," Ash replied, before tilting his head again, giving the other man a pointed look. "You should try it sometime."

Laurel's eyes widened a bit as the words at the end sunk in, then narrowed. "I am being honest," he snapped, shoving past Ash through the door. "But if it makes you feel any better, you can pretend I'm in denial or whatever." Hoping Ash would let that be his final line, he began to storm off.

"Is that the only favor I can expect from you?" Ash asked, raising his brow as he kept his tone light, unsurprised to see the sorcerer whirl around to face him again.

Irritated to have his previous words used against him, from a situation where he'd admitted he had only been running scared from his emotions, Laurel bared his teeth in a snarl. "You know, for someone who claimed to be my soulmate, it really doesn't seem like you care very much that I don't want to be with you anymore."

"Is that what you wanted?" Ash wondered. "For me to fight for us, and beg you to stay? Is that because you aren't sure you're making the right decision?" God, how he wanted to. If he thought it would help anything, he'd have done it in a heartbeat, without an ounce of shame. But if they were ever going to move past these inevitable and constant issues, and allow Laurel to fully accept what was between them, he knew he couldn't.

"I don't want anything from you," Laurel retorted. Though his legs felt weak, like they could barely support his weight, he began to walk away. Then, because he couldn't stop himself, he turned back to face Ash one more time. Because he couldn't bear to end it so coldly. "It's better this way," he whispered out, before rushing off.

Ash stood in the doorway to his room long after Laurel disappeared from his sight, the pleasant night breeze mocking against his already chilled skin.

"Better for who?" He wondered aloud, though he knew there was no one left to answer him. Heaving a small sigh, he closed the door so he could decide his next course of action.