Chapter 34: I don’t really need one

At the meeting, Eoin was unusually firm, almost unyielding. His words were stern and cold, and the major shareholders looked at him in surprise.

The two groups were both rivals and partners, with many joint investment projects. Eoin had come prepared, and Fergal took quite a few hidden hits and nearly ground his teeth in anger. As soon as the shareholders left the hall, he threw his teacup on the floor.

The pale blue teacup shattered, and pieces lay scattered across the floor. Fergal’s eyes darkened. "This is too much!"

Eoin had no time to care.

He sent his secretaries home first, then made his way to the car park. At the corner, he carefully fixed his appearance and smoothed every crease in his suit. Then he walked up to the Micra and tapped on the window.

Cian had been waiting for some time and was playing Candy Crush. When he saw Eoin, he opened the door to let him in. His eyes widened slightly as he noticed what Eoin was wearing. "Aren’t you freezing?"

Wearing a suit to a dinner was a matter of etiquette, but most people would have an assistant fetch a coat to wrap up in when leaving.

The car park wasn’t heated, and Cian looked him over. "Where’s your coat? Why aren’t you wearing it?"

Eoin paused. "I’m fine."

Cian looked at him with amusement. His fingers and cheeks were slightly red, yet he still claimed not to be cold.

He pulled a blanket from the boot and tossed it over. "Use this to keep warm for now. I’ll lend you one of my padded jackets when we get home."

Eoin reached out and gathered up the blanket. "Aren’t you curious how the shares turned out?"

There was a hint of pride in his voice.

Cian didn’t care about shares. As someone from another world, shares mattered less to him than the steamed fish he was having for dinner.

But since Eoin had brought it up, Cian asked, "How did the shares turn out?"

Eoin: "The amount is significant. It’s a rather satisfying result."

Cian gave a vague hum. "Thanks."

He turned the key, and the old Micra creaked, the engine shuddering three times before it finally started.

Eoin quietly checked the inside of the car. The leather was old and peeling, and in some places the foam padding showed. In the past, Young Mr. Fitzgerald wouldn’t even have considered sitting in a car like this, let alone driving it.

Eoin casually mentioned, "Rolls Royce has a new model out."

Just as they were turning a corner, Cian glanced at the rear view mirror and replied, "Oh, really?"

His tone was flat, just being polite, with little interest.

Eoin: "Bentley has a new one too..."

Cian finally turned the wheel and got onto the main road. The Micra was quite old, and the steering was heavy, turning with some resistance that took effort.

After Eoin had brought up cars twice, Cian caught on. He shook his head. "I don’t really need one."

Cian had little desire for material things and didn’t pay much attention to this.

Eoin pressed his lips together, uncomfortable.

It made him uneasy that Cian wouldn’t accept gifts.

Cian had to say, "When I need one, I’ll let you know, okay?"

Eoin gave a nod.

Night had fallen, and the small streets of the old neighbourhood were empty and quiet, with no one walking. In the dark, they drove into Rathmore Court.

Cian dug around in his flat and pulled out a long padded jacket. He handed it to Eoin. "Here, wear this."

*The heating in these old buildings is rubbish.*

Cian was tall, and the clothes were a little big on Eoin. They swallowed him up completely once he put them on.

After five years abroad, Cian was quite skilled at cooking. He got the oil heating right away. Eoin didn’t sit down. He just stood there like a kitchen sentry. Cian handed him a kitchen knife. "Chop these for me."

It was an old kitchen in a run down building, tight for one person. With both of them squeezed in there, they bumped into each other all the time, with hands brushing waists and hips and legs knocking together. Even though it was freezing, Eoin grew warmer and warmer inside the padded jacket. When the vegetables were finally chopped, he splashed his face with cold water.

Cian put the fish in the steamer and set the timer. "All right, let’s wait outside."

They sat down in the sitting room, and Eoin looked around. The flat was more than twenty years old. The original owner had grown up here before Declan took him home. There were still scribbles from the original owner on the walls.

Eoin thought they were kind of cute.

He reached out and touched them. "Did you draw these?"

"Uh..." Cian hesitated for a moment, then admitted honestly, "No."

He wasn’t the original owner. Since he was staying, he would have to come clean eventually.

But if he just blurted it out, Eoin might think he had gone crazy and started imagining things. He might panic and call Dr. Keane to haul him off to the loony bin.

...And if he secretly stayed with him in bed for a month, Eoin’s dark circles would probably turn into panda eyes, right?

Cian’s mind wandered. He pictured the serious Mr. Brennan, the Teaching Assistant from Trinity, and the cold, distant Mr. Brennan of Dublin’s business world, with dark circles, and he found it funny. He couldn’t help laughing.

Eoin looked at him, confused. "What are you suddenly laughing at?"

Cian stood up to cover it. "Nothing. My fish is ready."

He put the fish on the dining table. The tender yellow flesh, sprinkled with bright green spring onion, looked mouth watering.

After they shared the fish, both were quite satisfied. Cian glanced at his watch. It was already past midnight. He asked Eoin, "Are you staying the night?"

Driving back in that old Micra late at night would be a real hassle.

When he heard this, Eoin raised his hand but didn’t speak. His amber eyes were fixed on him.

Cian chuckled. "Are you staying or not?"

"Mm," Eoin said, taking a bite of fish. "...I’ll stay."

Cian went to wash up first, then pulled out two sets of pyjamas. Both were his own and slightly bigger than Eoin’s size, but pyjamas didn’t need to fit perfectly.

Eoin stared at his back for a while, then put down his bowl and chopsticks and suddenly asked slowly, "Did you read the agreement properly?"

"Huh?" Cian replied casually. "I did..."

He hadn’t read it at all, but he trusted that Eoin wouldn’t harm him.

Eoin looked away and said nothing.

After washing up, Cian changed into his old pyjamas, lay down in bed, and played a game to pass the time. This time it was "Jump Jump," where you press and release the screen. During one round, his phone buzzed several times with messages, and the little block wobbled dangerously before finally falling.

He switched over to the messages and found they were all from the study abroad group.

Several of his classmates were graduating today and were sharing group photos in the chat.

At Cian’s university, you could graduate as soon as you earned enough credits, with exams held in both the winter and summer terms. This time, the people who had passed the winter exams were graduating.

Cian scrolled through the group and spotted a few familiar faces. They often came over for meals and parties.

Sure enough, within minutes, their party group chat lit up. First they posted their graduation certificates, then their return flight tickets, looking for travel buddies, and finally they took turns tagging Cian.

"Bro Cian, we’re heading back to Ireland. How’s it going in Dublin?"

"Bro Cian, can we throw a party when we get back? We miss you QAQ"

"Bro Cian, we got you some gifts from overseas, and in return we want to order food! We want Irish stew!!!"

Cian chuckled.

When he was in Dublin, he was known as a rich kid, and people either tiptoed around him or had hidden motives. His friendships were shallow. But these freeloaders from abroad had no idea about Cian’s background, and they all knew each other well.

He typed, "Sure, I’ll cook Irish stew for you. Anything else you want? Gifts in one hand, food in the other."

The chat erupted in laughter.