One single thread of gold tied me to you

Chapter 2

Learning how to live following ...that was strange to say the least. Especially when the two boys had polar opposite responses on how to act around one another.

If Oscar was being inviting beforehand, he was being overbearing now, not only invading Asher's solitude but also his personal space.

Asher was searched for in every crowd and every room. Oscars most common phrase became "where's Asher?" or "have any of you seen Asher?" His insufferable need to be constantly around the Italian seriously annoyed his friends.

"Why do you like him so much? He's only ever been rude to me" Logan would ask, genuinely curious as to what his best friend saw in the quiet, isolated boy. "He's just- ,it's- , you wouldn't get it" the reply would be, having no real explaination to his sudden gravitation.

By far, the worst part of it all was the physical touch. Oscar seemed to connect their new found... whatever it was, with affection. wrapping an arm around his waist in photos, dragging him by the hand to show him things and "forgetting" to let go. Fortunately, Oscar was smart enough to act as though nothing had happened in front of Mr Agosti. to Asher's father, Oscar was simply one of the many competitors his son would beat. The only thing beating was Ashers heart however when Oscar fell asleep on his shoulder and it was unbearable

It wasn't unbearable, Asher kept as still as he could, not daring any sudden movements in favour of the sleeping boy on his shoulder and the pause in the yearning in his stomach. the yearning was filled with butterflies, dancing and singing their favourite tunes. Looking at the sleeping boy on his shoulder, light brown hair that was relatively straight compared to his, freckles that painted his face delicately, if God was real, Asher reccons he used all seven days he spent making the earth, sculpting Oscar's face to perfection. Ensuring every little eyelash was separated, every eyebrow hair went the right way, every spot, mole and scar was handpicked in order to make the prettiest person Asher had ever seen.

Too pretty to stay around, according to Asher. Immediately dashing off the minute Oscar woke up. See that was Asher's tactic to come with ...the thing. Avoid Oscar Piastri at all costs was his new mission and he would not fail. Failure was punishable by death, or worse his father could find out.

This proved to be alot easier said then done. The australian was persistant, intensly persistant. Wherever Asher went, it seems he had a shadow, one with short scruffy hair and chocolate eyes, that followed him. And he could not be more annoying if he tried. Oscar would worry and check up on Asher any chance he got; Asher would bolt any chance he got. Simply refusing to deal with ...it or the feelings he felt because of ...it or the fact that the hunger in his stomach had stoppen eating away at him since ...it happened.

Despite Asher's resistance he couldn't deny Oscar. Couldn't pull away when he held his hand, couldn't stop counting the freckles on his face, couldnt say no to those eyes, those damn eyes. Asher could stare into his eyes forever, a river, he called them. So incredibly intense yet soft at the same time, Oscar had loud eyes, bustling and busy, filled with love.

Laying on Ashers chest, Oscar played with his hand, drawing small circles over the cuts and scars.

"so um," Asher starts, his voice is warmer thrn usual yet slightly shaky, he swallows, hard. "so im not racing in this category next year. Im moving up, doing the world karting championship." His gaze shifts to the Australian, looking for some sort of reaction from the boy.

"Yeah i know" he smiles, eyes still looking on Ashers hand as he continues to draw with his thumb, more caressing then drawing.

"You know? How do you know?"

"Your dad was bragging about it to anyone who would listen yesterday, God i hate him, wouldn't even let you share your own news"

Asher's face dropped at the mention of his father. At the mention of his "dad." His body tensed up and Oscar notices.

"don't worry, i asked my dad to distract him so we have time before he realises you've snuck off. I asked him to message when they stop talking" *Asher's hand untenses and Oscar continues to play with it.

"why?" Asher looks to Oscar as he says it, sitting up slightly

"what do you mean why?" Oscar looks back at him

"why?"  they are both looking into eachothers eyes now.

Asher starts to explain, breaking the eye contact immediately, still not ready to confront the dancing in his stomach whenever they looked at eachother like that. "why do you do this? you help me out, you hangout with me even when i dont want you too, you hover around me. Why?"

"because i care about you? because you're my friend? Asher you mean so much to me you have no idea" Oscar anwsers honestly.

"But we barely knew eachother and then you just started being close to me. i don't want you to be my friend just because you feel bad for me, because of ...it."

There's a pause between them. No words are said yet the eye contact is there again. like they can't avoid it.

The realisation sets in.

"Are you joking with me right now?" Asher asks, scrambling up from his position lying down and pulling his hand from the Australians grasp. The void in his stomach churns. "You aren't even trying to deny it? Are you?"

"Asher..." Oscar starts, "All that matters is that i am your friend. Truely i am your friend. I don't care about any of that stuff, okay? I don't!"

"You felt bad for me! You felt bad that i don't have many friends and about how my dad treats me and you... you, I can't believe I thought you were genuinely my friend!" the repulsive ache grew and spread throught Ashers body.

"Of course i felt bad for you! You broke down crying in my arms about how he treats you, how he beats you! Of course i wanted to protect you!" Oscar gives back. This arguement betweem them seemingly going nowhere good.

"Protect me? I'm not weak, Oscar. I don't need you to protect me or pity me, I am not some charity case for you to pick up whenever you are bored!" He yelling at this point, yelling at Oscar whose usual loud eyes say nothing. Ashers are full this time, full of anger and betrayal and hurt.

Oscar is ready to leave this situation, he isn't going to stand here and be yelled at and just take it. He mutters on last thing before he walks away.

"You look just like your father Asher"