The soft chime of a bell followed by silence greeted Jack when he entered the antique shop. He hugged his excuse for being there to his chest. He would return the coat, get his hoodie back, confess to leading Kieran on, and get dumped. Quick and easy. Hell, he'd even have time to grab a bite before hiding away in the library stacks and putting the finishing touches on the bakery website.

"Welco— Jack!" Kieran smiled as he approached, setting a small stack of books next to register.

Jack raised the coat. "I'm here to pay the ransom on my hoodie."

"You can keep it, if you'd like," said Kieran. "It looks good on you."

"I looked up the brand, so that's a hard no," Jack said, shaking his head and holding the coat further away.

"Very well." Kieran took it and kissed Jack's cheek. "I'll be right back."

Jack winced as Kieran turned and moved to the back of the store. He was failing at giving his confession. What was worse, he only had his bag's strap to fidget with as he waited for Kieran to return.

He tugged his left sleeve back and ran a finger over the scar circling his wrist. He should mention his scars, too. If they were still together by summer, then there would be questions. And he could only make so many excuses for avoiding short sleeves.

Too bad he didn't have the standard parallel lines of most cutters. Then he could just say he was in recovery. He frowned at his wrist. He never thought of himself as the type to slice up his own skin. He couldn't recall ever having the urge. He didn't even understand the thought process behind it. He didn't like pain. He didn't need proof that he was alive. He certainly didn't want the attention.

His breaths became shaky as his heart beat faster. Something wasn't right. He remembered cutting into himself, but his memory flickered between a switchblade and a box cutter on a scar going across his forearm.

Footsteps echoed from the back of the store, and Jack quickly pulled his sleeve back over his wrist. He hugged himself then dropped his arms just as Kieran rounded the corner.

"And now your street urchin look is complete," Kieran said teasingly, handing over the hoodie.

Jack clutched it and caught its lack of scent. Of course Kieran washed it. Thoughtful bastard. "Oh, uh… Something else, too. Can we talk?"

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

Jack's shoulders hunched under Kieran's amusement. "In private?"

Kieran's eyes roamed over the store then settled back on Jack with a raised brow.

"I mean, what if someone comes in?" Belatedly, Jack realized how paranoid he sounded. He shook his head and scratched at his thigh. "Sorry. I'll come back later. I didn't really think this through."

"I can watch the store!" Lindsey said excitedly from beside Jack.

Jack stepped away, tripping over his own feet in an effort to escape. He stumbled into Kieran and cringed into himself. "Fuck! Where do you hide?!"

Lindsey slowly waved a hand in front of herself, her eyes unfocused. "Beyond the veil, and behind the curtain."

Kieran squeezed Jack's shoulder before letting go and glaring down at Lindsey. "The answer is still no."

"You really think anyone's gonna come in for the ten minutes it takes to have a private conversation with your boyfriend?" Lindsey said in an indignant huff. "I can handle it!"

"It's gonna be pretty quick," Jack admitted uncomfortably. "Maybe quicker, depending on reaction."

Kieran looked between Jack and Lindsey then to the storefront window and the empty street outside. He sighed and shook his head in resignation. "Very well. Knock if it's more than you can handle."

"You got it, boss!" Lindsey saluted and purposefully strode to stand behind the register. She was the very picture of happiness, crowned with a flower-pinned hat.

Jack wished he had her smooth and adaptable attitude. Quelling the dread creeping over his spine, he followed Kieran to the back of the store. The trek up the murder stairs seemed to take forever, and Jack's confidence degraded with each step.

The moment Jack crossed the threshold into the apartment, the building wave of nausea crashed over him. He dropped his bag on the floor and hurried to the side hall, hugging his hoodie tightly against his stomach. "I… I'm gonna use your bathroom first. Bye."

Jack closed the bathroom door behind himself and frowned at the lack of a lock. At least there was a door. He sighed and faced the toilet, only to get a flash of borrowed pajamas sitting atop the seat. That's not where he left them when he'd spent the night, and Kieran had originally left them in the hall for him. Right?

He swallowed back his insistent nausea at the conflicting memories. He had a good thing going. As much as he was all for letting it be ruined, he didn't want it ruined by letting on that he might be crazy.

Maybe he had just grabbed the clothing and set it on the toilet seat before getting into them. That would make sense. He breathed easier as his stomach settled.

At the sink, he splashed cold water on his face in a futile attempt to refresh his confidence. Why was he worrying over ruining a relationship with his craziness when he was about to run it with his non-existent libido? He pushed off the sink and dried off his face, not feeling any better.

"You can do this," he told his reflection as he pulled on his hoodie and tugged the sleeves over his hands. His reflection stared back with insecure doubt. He sighed and faced the door and his inevitable breakup.