Textual Confusion

20. I love you, and Im sorry.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I LOVE YOU, AND I'M SORRY.

Calm washed over Asher when he realized what he had to do.

The tears blurring his vision vanished and his stomach settled. His racing thoughts slowed. He felt almost serene as the decision settled over him, and it was enough for him to finally step out of the alleyway and begin making his way down the sidewalk to the nearest bus stop.

As he walked, he planned.

Asher wasn’t dumb. He knew that his friends and Markus cared about him, and that they’d be upset with him for cutting them out of his life so suddenly, especially without a proper explanation. (He could only imagine the epic temper tantrum Sasha would throw.) But he also knew that they’d get over it – maybe not right away, but eventually.

After all, Sasha and Danny had each other to lean on, and a whole bunch of amazing new opportunities in their lives to distract them. As for Markus, well, he could have anyone he wanted.

He wants you , a persistent voice in his brain argued, but Asher ignored it. He couldn’t be selfish anymore. This was for the best, and eventually Markus would realize that, too.

Sometime as he walked, it began to snow, beautiful white flakes falling from the sky and landing in his hair. The wind picked up, too, and by the time Asher reached the bus station, his fingers were numb from the cold.

He’d forgotten his hat and gloves when he’d left for the bar, probably because Markus hadn’t been around to insist he wear them. Which was ridiculous. Asher was a grown man. He shouldn’t have to rely on others to take care of him – to remind him to wear a frickin’ hat in the winter.

The realization only spurred him on further, and he was more determined than ever to follow through with the plan slowly forming in his head by the time he climbed onto the bus.

The ride back home was a blur.

As soon as he reached his apartment, Asher put the first step of his plan into motion: gathering up all of the gifts Markus had given him over the course of their relationship. Pulling all the clothes Markus had insisted on buying him out of his closet – dress shirts, a few jeans, an abundance of fluffy sweaters – Asher carefully folded them before stuffing them inside a garbage bag. The coat he’d been wearing moments ago joined the rest of the clothes, along with a variety of other winter paraphernalia.

Turning towards his kitchen, Asher eyed the cupboards and debated grabbing another bag to fill with various groceries that the man had purchased for him over the last few months, but that seemed extreme. (Plus, Asher had a feeling all the food would just go to waste if he did that, so he let his pantry be.)

Instead, Asher turned his attention towards his bed. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do about the mattress. So focusing on the satin sheets and matching comforter, Asher carefully tucked it all away into more garbage bags.

A quick glance at the clock revealed it was past midnight by the time Asher had finished packing up all the things Markus had ever given him, so he threw himself down on the naked mattress in an attempt to get some rest.

Despite the monumental task ahead of him the next day, however, Asher was too wired to sleep. A part of him was worried that if he allowed himself to nod off, he’d lose his nerve come morning and not be able to do what needed to be done: namely, return everything he’d just packed to the man who’d given it to him.

But backing out was unacceptable.

He had to remain firm in his resolve, or Markus would suffer for it.

Asher forced himself to get up when the first rays of sunlight peeked through his curtains. Feeling too jittery to shower or even change his clothes, Asher spent an hour or so pacing his apartment before he couldn’t take it anymore and called for an Uber to take him to the bank.

Asher got there mere minutes after they opened their doors, but there was already a line. Fighting the urge to fidget or tap his foot impatiently as he waited his turn, he breathed a sigh of relief when he finally reached the front.

“Good morning!” one of the tellers behind the counter greeted him cheerfully, a friendly smile plastered to her face. “How may I help you today?”

“Hi,” Asher croaked, wincing at the rough sound before clearing his throat. “I’d like to empty out my checking account, please.”

“I’ll need some ID for that.”

Asher dug his threadbare wallet out of his pocket before pushing his driver’s license across the counter.

Picking up his license, the woman inspected it before typing his information into the computer in front of her. Mere seconds after she pressed enter, her eyes bulged. She swallowed. “Oh.”

Asher frowned. “Is everything alright?”

Turning her bug-eyed stare onto Asher, she hastily nodded. “Of course, Sir. You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m going to need to fetch my manager.”

Asher’s frown deepened, unsure why she had to get her manager if nothing was wrong. “Okay.”

A few minutes later, the teller returned with a harried looking man who insisted Asher follow him back to his office so they could discuss his finances.

Asher worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he sat himself on the plush chair across from the man’s desk. “Is something wrong with my account?” he asked. “Did it get hacked?”

The man seemed affronted at the question. “Of course not. Harbor Trust prides itself on its top-notch security. We would have notified you immediately if we detected any fraudulent activity.”

“Why was I brought back here then?”

The man leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “I understand you’d like to empty your checking account.”

“Yes,” Asher confirmed, “is that a problem?”

“Not necessarily,” the man hedged. “We just have certain security measures in place when anyone withdraws over $10,000, and considering the sum of your account, there’s quite a bit of paperwork to fill out.”

“Oh.”

Asher supposed that made sense. “Am I going to be able to withdraw it all today?”

“Several years ago, the answer would be no. Federal regulations have changed over the past decade, however, so we should be able to get you your money today.” The man checked his computer. “All $124,564 of it.”

“That’s good-” Asher started before the rest of what the man had said caught up with him. “Wait. How much?” he demanded, feeling the blood drain from his face.

The man frowned. “You said you wanted to empty your entire checking account, didn’t you?”

“I- yes. One second.” Pulling out his phone, Asher quickly logged into his bank account and checked his balance. Holy shit. He’d already spent around $25,000 on various fees and the initial down payment on the café. By his calculations, that should have left another $45,000 or so left in his account. Not $124,564.

But there the proof was in front of him.

When he was living paycheck to paycheck, Asher had been in the habit of checking his account weekly, if not daily. But after the first few of Markus’s payments had gone through, he hadn’t had to worry about his finances and hadn’t even bothered to check.

In hindsight, that had been stupid.

The man before him agreed, judging by his expression. “Is there a problem?” he asked, his turn to be concerned.

Asher swallowed. “No.”

Yes. Markus had been funneling way more money into his account than they’d agreed upon. By the looks of it, ten grand here and another fifteen grand here – for seemingly no reason at all. That was disregarding the fact that the man wasn’t supposed to be paying him at all since ripping up the contract.

No wonder Asher had been brought back to a private room. There was no way they kept this amount of cash in their registers. They’d have to go back to the vault to retrieve it.

“Shall I walk you through the paperwork then?” the man asked, procuring an intimidatingly thick stack of papers from seemingly nowhere.

Nodding stiffly, Asher allowed the man’s explanation of the forms he set in front of him to trickle in one ear and out the other, numbly signing and initialing wherever indicated until his hand began to cramp.

Signing all the paperwork reminded Asher that he was supposed to be closing on the café later today – something that had completely slipped his mind with the rest of his life imploding around him.

But there was no way he could afford the payments he’d agreed to now.

What the fuck was he going to do?

Deciding it was a problem he’d deal with later, Asher sent a quick text to Mr. Brittle, letting him know he wouldn’t be able to make their scheduled meeting before silencing his phone.

Then he refocused on the paperwork.

It took much longer than Asher expected, and it was nearly noon by the time he finally walked out of the bank, nervously holding a thick envelope that was filled with more cash than he’d ever seen in his life.

He’d only left a couple hundred dollars and some change in his account, and Asher had no idea how he was going to be able to afford the bakery (if Mr. Brittle was even still willing to do business with him after he’d flaked today) and pay back the money he still owed Markus, but he’d figured it out somehow.

He was determined to never be a drain on anyone – financial or otherwise – ever again.

Fearful of getting robbed, he tucked the envelope under his shirt before calling for an Uber to take him back to his apartment. There, he gathered up the bags of Markus’s belongings before hitching another ride to Markus’s penthouse.

He felt ridiculous entering such a fancy building dragging three bulging garbage bags behind him, but the security guards at the door only glanced his way once before immediately recognizing him and looking away.

The same secretary as always was behind the desk in the lobby. Asher hadn’t interacted with her again beyond their first meeting, but he had a vague recollection of her name starting with an “N”. A quick glance at her nametag confirmed it was Natalie.

Their last encounter hadn’t exactly been friendly, but he couldn’t get into Markus’s apartment without her help so Asher reluctantly approached her desk. She obviously saw him, but pretended not to, staring at something on her computer screen instead.

Asher was too tired to play any games and cleared his throat to get her attention. “Hello. Can I get a visitor’s pass keyed to Markus Kingston’s apartment, please? He’s on the top floor,” he added, like she didn’t already know.

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m not authorized to do that without the apartment owner’s express permission. Alas, Mr. Kingston isn’t here to vouch for you, and I have nothing in writing so…”

Asher frowned. “But he told you the very first time I came here that I could get a visitor’s pass whenever I wanted. Plus, you’ve seen him take me up to his apartment dozens of times.”

“Have I?” She hummed, pretending to think about it. “I don’t recall. He brings so many people here, it’s hard remember them all,” she added with a smirk.

She was lying, and they both knew it, but there was little Asher could do about it outside of calling Markus. And he couldn’t do that because it would give him away.

“I’ll be in and out in fifteen minutes,” he said, not above pleading at this point. He gestured behind him. “I’m just dropping off a few of his things. Please. ”

Natalie seemed to notice the garbage bags for the first time, and her eyes widened before quickly zeroing back in on Asher. “Oh?” she said, sounding suddenly very interested in what Asher had to say. “Did something happen between the two of you? Things not work out, after all?”

“Something like that,” Asher muttered.

“Well, in that case…”

Less than a minute later, Asher was presented with a keycard. “Thanks,” he offered stiffly before heading to the elevator.

Moments later, the doors opened to Markus’s penthouse.

The man was due back from New York later that day, so Asher didn’t waste any time beelining it to Markus’s bedroom, where he heaved the bags onto his bed before setting the envelope of cash down onto the nightstand. A glint of gold on his wrist caught his attention. The sun shining in through the floor-to-ceiling windows had caught on the diamonds of his watch – Markus’s watch – creating a brilliant kaleidoscope of colors against the wall.

The watch.

Somehow, while packing away all of the gifts the man had given him, Asher had forgotten about it. It went against every instinct he had to take it off, his heart twisting in denial as he unlatched the clasp of the Rolex with shaky fingers before carefully setting it on top of the envelope of cash.

Asher assumed that when Markus saw everything, he would know what it meant. Part of him wanted to leave a note – to explain that this was for the man’s own good – but he couldn’t bring himself to put pen to paper.

Still, the man deserved something. Asher reluctantly pulled his phone out of his pocket. He hadn’t looked at it since texting Mr. Brittle back at the bank and was unsurprised to see several missed calls from the man.

Ignoring them, he opened his chat history with Markus.

Markus

Good morning, beautiful.

You must be sleeping in. I’m glad. You’ll need your rest for tonight.

My plane is scheduled to land 5:05 PDT. I’ll pick you up on the way back from the airport. Until then, lovely.

The man was so fucking sweet. He deserved better – much better than Asher, who was about to leave him with no explanation whatsoever.

Asher suspected that the sudden bout of courage that came over him had a lot to do with the fact the man was currently ten thousands of feet above sea level and that his phone was undoubtedly in airplane mode. He quickly typed out a message.

I love you, and I’m sorry.

Goodbye.

Asher shut his phone off as soon as the message sent, shoving it back into his pocket. He knew it wasn’t fair, saying “ I love you ” for the first time over text and then disappearing. If anything, he’d just made the situation even more convoluted.

But he couldn’t shake the thought that Markus deserved to know. It wasn’t an explanation, but it was better than nothing… wasn’t it?

It was harder than Asher thought it would be to make himself leave the apartment, knowing that it’d be the last time he ever visited. He pet the maroon bedspread, the fabric unbelievably soft under his palm. He wanted nothing more than to climb into Markus’s bed, bury himself under the covers, and never leave again. But a quick glance at the clock reminded him that he was under a time constraint, so after one last glance around the man’s bedroom, he forced himself to leave.

He rode the elevator back down to the lobby and returned the visitor’s pass to Natalie without looking at her. “Have a great day,” she chirped.

Asher wasn’t sure what he said in response – if he said anything at all – but moments later, he was walking out the door, wandering aimlessly down the sidewalk.

He walked for what seemed like hours.

Now what? his brain demanded.

He couldn’t go home. Markus and his friends knew where he lived.

He hadn’t thought this far ahead.

Asher knew he couldn’t stay away forever, of course, but he’d have to lay low for a while, at least. A couple weeks, minimum. Just long enough for everyone to forget about him – or at least stop caring so much.

Deep down, Asher knew it was a ridiculous thought. That his friends – Markus, even – would forget about him and magically stop caring about him in just a few weeks’ time.

But in his current headspace, it seemed plausible.

In the end, Asher decided to use some of the money he had left in his bank account to check into a motel.

The balding, middle-aged man who’d taken his money and handed him his room key had leered at him and stared a little too intently at Asher’s mouth for comfort, but he’d ignored it.

Besides, the motel’s customer service was hardly worse than its amenities. The room Asher was given smelled vaguely of pot and had a suspicious-looking red stain on the corner of the carpet.

But it wasn’t like Asher could afford anything better. After all, he had limited funds to work with and he wasn’t sure how long he’d have to stay there in order to avoid his friends.

Asher eyed the bed nervously, but in the end, he’d been up for nearly thirty-six hours straight and was too tired to put up much of a fuss. Leaving the sheets as they were, he collapsed onto the mattress.

Despite his inner turmoil, he was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.