Chapter 37: Come on

One early morning, Cian was woken by a fast ringtone.

He glanced at the time with a bit of a headache but answered anyway. "Hello?"

A flood of words came through. "Fitz, we’ve arrived in Dublin! We’ve already dropped our bags at the hotel you booked. When does the party start?"

Cian rubbed his forehead. "Mate, it’s only seven o’clock."

At least wait until noon to come and freeload.

Even so, Cian got up resignedly to meet his long lost friends.

About a dozen people came, and some brought partners. The flat at Rathmore Court was small, and the table wasn’t big enough, so they rented a party room for the day. By the time Cian and Eoin drove over, a crowd was already waiting eagerly at the door.

Like a bunch of hamsters waiting to be fed.

Cian: "..."

He felt a slight headache and pushed through the crowd. "Make way, I’ll open the door."

Cian went in first, and everyone else turned to look at Eoin.

Both of them were good looking, but in different styles. Cian was carefree and easygoing, while Eoin was elegant and refined. Many people looked at him with curiosity. "What’s your relationship with Fitz?"

Eoin paused. He wanted to say "boyfriend," but felt a bit shy in front of everyone. Cian opened the door, turned back, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him in, saying, "He’s family. Don’t bully him."

Family?

That word was even closer than "boyfriend."

Eoin blinked, and the next second, he was pulled into the room. Cian pulled him in smoothly, as if he had seen it coming.

The group went quiet at first, then burst out with a loud "Ooooh!"

They had come from all over, and it was rare for them to be together. Several had brought partners, and most of them knew each other somewhat, except for Cian, who had kept his love life tightly under wraps.

Someone joked, "Fitz, I thought you were just living like a monk while we studied, with so many people liking you and you never fancied anyone. Turns out it wasn’t being a monk, it was saving yourself, huh?"

Cian sighed. "Can we eat more and talk less?"

Several bottles of wine were opened at the table, and as everyone drank, the mood heated up. All kinds of jokes flew around, like "keeping a lover in a gilded cage" and "a monk in meditation." Someone even tried to get Eoin drunk, thumping their chest and declaring, "Since you’re Fitz’s man, you have to accept us as brothers!"

Cian’s face darkened. He intercepted the glass and said helplessly, "Get lost. I haven’t even let him drink much."

Eoin’s fingers twitched.

He thought back five years, to that wild night on the Liffey Belle cruise, when Cian had also stopped his drink, not letting anyone get him drunk, and swapped it for milk.

"Cian," Eoin tugged at his sleeve, "I can drink."

Cian glanced at him, doubtful. "You can drink?"

In the novel, Eoin’s alcohol tolerance wasn’t great, and the original lead loved getting him drunk and then playing with him, which had a certain appeal.

Eoin insisted, "I can drink."

Everyone was drinking, and it wouldn’t do to refuse completely.

Cian raised an eyebrow, took a small cup, poured a couple of sips, and pushed it over with a hint of indulgent helplessness. "All right, try it."

The crowd cheered, "Ooooh!"

They were all classmates and hadn’t seen each other for a long time. They kept chatting, from stories about studying abroad to plans for life back home. Along the way, they mentioned that Cian had chosen a double degree with some especially hard courses, and had even got top marks in all of them and graduated first among everyone.

Eoin was very surprised and turned to look at Cian, who seemed a bit tipsy and wasn’t thinking straight. Eoin’s eyes were full of admiration and respect.

The group, wanting to make Cian look good in front of his partner, said anything and exaggerated wildly: top of the class, the professor’s favourite, a genius, and so on, until Cian started to get a headache.

He felt embarrassed to be shown off in front of Eoin, the academic star, and could only sigh. "Let’s eat, let’s eat."

After the party, everyone was thoroughly drunk. Eoin had a few sips but didn’t drink much. They had mainly focused on getting Cian drunk, with the group cheering and the mood at its peak. Although he sighed again and again, Cian knew it was a rare occasion and didn’t want to spoil the fun. Without noticing, he drank quite a lot.

By the time the music stopped and people left, his head was already spinning.

Eoin was a little worried and called a driver service to take them home. After they finally tidied up and lay down, Cian pulled Eoin into his arms, rested his head on the pillow, and fell asleep.

The next morning, as soon as Cian woke up, he felt awful.

Cian always got a headache after a hangover. It was an old problem. The last time he had drunk too much, at the cemetery, he’d had a headache for a long time.

But it wasn’t a big deal. A headache would go away on its own after a few hours. Cian, experienced with hangovers, had expected to be pushed to drink and had bought painkillers. He got out of bed, planning to find the medicine in the sitting room cabinet and go back to sleep after taking it.

Just out of a drunken sleep, he naturally felt dizzy and confused. Cian bumped his head on the cabinet and stubbed his toe on the door frame, cursing under his breath. His steps were unsteady, and by the time he reached the sitting room, his stomach felt queasy and he felt like throwing up.

Cian thought he would never drink with these unlucky classmates again. It was simply life shortening. He knelt halfway in front of the cabinet and was about to pull open the drawer when he suddenly heard a muffled sound behind him.

Eoin stood in the doorway, just back from buying groceries, holding colourful plastic bags. When he let go, the bags thumped to the floor, spring onions rolled out, and potatoes slid to the edge of the sitting room.

Cian pressed his aching forehead. He wanted to ask, Why are you up so early? Did you go shopping alone? Why didn’t you wait for me? But his voice was hoarse, and after coughing twice, he couldn’t speak.

Eoin’s face was pale with fear.

He stared at Cian, his beautiful eyes shining with moisture. Just as Cian was about to speak, Eoin strode over and pulled him onto the sofa.

Cian had never felt such strength from Eoin before. His limbs were weak, but his body still had weight, and yet Eoin forcefully dragged him to the sofa and stuffed a cushion into his arms.

Cian blinked.

When Eoin pulled him, his fingers were clearly trembling.

As the newly risen top figure in Dublin, Eoin had long been good at hiding his feelings. But now he was shaking uncontrollably, his fingertips tingling as if electrified, the hem of his clothes quivering slightly, his face pale and grim, as if something unbearable had happened.

Cian: "...?"

He wondered, confused, He just went grocery shopping. What happened? Did the Fitzgerald Group collapse? Or Lynch Corporation?

Before he could even work out which company was supposed to be collapsing right now, Eoin suddenly stood up, went to the bathroom, and wrung out a warm cloth. He leaned down to wipe the sweat from Cian’s forehead and whispered softly, "Has it started again? Are you feeling unwell?"

He was shaking all over, but his voice was incredibly gentle, and his movements were careful and exact. The warm cloth on his skin felt very soothing. Cian narrowed his eyes, completely baffled. He wanted to ask, What has started again?

But he couldn’t speak, and Eoin didn’t wait for an answer. He managed a faint smile. He rarely smiled, and when his brows lifted, he looked unearthly and alluring. With his noble, elegant face, it was especially tempting, the kind of look that makes you want to hold and adore a person, and also to dominate and ruin him.

Eoin whispered, "In the second drawer on your right, I’ve prepared something."

Cian: "...?"

Prepared what?

Eoin took his hand and gently placed it on the drawer handle, then guided him to pull it open. Eoin’s fingertips were still trembling, but he held Cian’s hand firmly, his movements steady and certain.

Cian hesitated for a moment, then reached in and at once felt a long, rectangular box at the bottom of the drawer. It was made of leather, with sharp edges and delicate cut out patterns on the surface and a raised logo in the middle. Cian didn’t recognise it, but from the packaging alone, he could guess it was anything but cheap.

This drawer wasn’t used often, and he had never known there was something inside.

Cian was completely baffled and didn’t understand why Eoin would hide something here. He wanted to tease a little and ask if it was a Valentine’s Day gift or a token of love, but then he saw Eoin suddenly turn his back to him and start unbuttoning his trench coat.

He was still trembling, but his hands were steady, undoing the buttons from top to bottom.

Then, with a gentle flick, the coat dropped, followed by his waistcoat, then his tie, several pieces of clothing crumpling to the floor. But Eoin didn’t stop. He looked down and began to unbutton his shirt.

He unbuttoned it slowly, one button at a time, and slid out of it.

The shirt fell to the floor.

Cian was met with a smooth, bare back, the skin delicate as pale Belleek china. The shoulder blades on either side looked like butterfly wings, and the line of his shoulders and back narrowed at the waist and disappeared into his trousers. There were even two shallow dimples at the small of his back, a curve so lovely it stirred tenderness.

Cian was stunned for a moment, and even his headache seemed to ease.

With the sleeves out of the way, Cian could clearly see Eoin’s hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into his palm so hard it looked as if they might draw blood.

Eoin turned his head to look at him and gave a faint smile. His expression was hard to read, whether relief or tension, but in the end, he simply brushed his hair aside and showed a graceful stretch of neck.

Eoin whispered, "Come on."