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It isn’t until he’s almost gone that you decide to ask.
“Aran, wait. Before you go. I need to ask you something.”
He stops and turns towards you, not saying anything. There’s a hint of annoyance in his eyes, maybe mixed with something else. A moment of silence passes by before you open your mouth again, suddenly much more nervous than you originally were.
“I’m just wondering if you can do me a small favor.” The words come out a little languid from your mouth, and you chew on your cheek nervously, fearing that he’ll reject you before you even propose what you wanted. Sure, you didn’t need him to help you, but you would certainly like it if he did.
“What?” His facial expression doesn’t change much.
“So, I, uh, I’m moving some stuff around and I was wondering if you could help…?” your voice rises a little as you finish the sentence, perhaps betraying how nervous you were to him. He doesn’t say anything but fidgets a little, shuffling his hands around while he thinks.
“... Fine .”
Despite the irritation in his voice, you immediately perk up at his response. “Thank you,” you beam, smiling sincerely even though he seems more agitated than willing. Just as you open your mouth to give him the details, he jabs his finger towards you, a harsh edge in his words, accent strong.
“Normally, I wouldn’t fuckin’ do this, so don’t go expectin’ any more favors outta me, ye?”
You nod intensely, still riding high off the pleasure of getting him to agree. He begins to head out the door immediately, and you tentatively offer, “I’ll send you the details later, okay?”
“Whatever!” he shouts back, closing the door firmly behind him. You stare at the door for a moment after he leaves.
“Sorry about the disarray,” you explain, stepping over random junk that you don’t even recall having. “It’s just really hectic, y’know?”
“Ye, ye,” he mumbles, too busy going through your stuff to really pay attention to what you’re saying.
“How nice of you, Aran,” you muse aloud. “Just going through my things without even really saying hello. I appreciate it so much.” A part of you sincerely means the irritated statement, but another part of you is suppressing your smile.
“Ay,” he turns around, holding a raggedy stuffed animal tightly in his hand. “I sure as hell don’t even have to be here.” He shakes the stuffed animal around for emphasis, or out of refusal to remain still for even a second. It makes you laugh, louder than you expected to. “I ain’t bein’ a fuckin’ comedian!” is his response, and his voice is incredibly loud, like his volume button is broken.
“Okay, tiger. You don’t have to get all upset,” you say casually, leaning down to pick up a box. “What you are going to be is the guy that helps me move this stuff.”
He merely huffs in response and points to a pile of papers. “Are we throwin’ these in the shredder, or you puttin’ em in a box for some fuckin’ reason?”
“I’m putting them in a box for a good reason,” you say, the box still in your arms, not even bothering to look at the papers in question - considering Aran’s attitude, they’re probably something important.
“Whatever you say,” he mumbles, and you hear him put them in the box with too much force and you begin to seriously question letting him help you, but decide to bite your tongue about it. By the time you’re back, he’s busy going through a box that was neatly organized. As you begin to contemplate strangling him, he turns around with a massive grin his face, and you immediately dread that he found something embarrassing.
“Shit, mate!” His tone is of genuine, unfiltered excitement. “A Rubik’s cube!”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“I haven’t played with one of these things in fuckin’ years!” He smiles at you again and begins playing with it, but not seriously - he’s just moving shit around at random, which is something you fully expected from him.
“Give me that, ” you say, half-kidding, half-serious. Immediately, he recoils and holds it above his head, one arm fully outstretched, the other pushing you back. “Let me solve the damn thing!”
As soon as his arm leaves your body, you push back against him, trying to wrestle the toy out of his hands, which is a scuffle that lasts an entire minute before you notice his insane smile, clearly getting a kick out of fucking with you.
You lean back from him and sigh, throwing your hands up. “Fine. Keep the cube.” He lets out a victorious laugh, still fidgeting with the cube. “Keep this up and I’ll kick you out, so help me God,” you mutter under your breath, not expecting him to hear. He does.
“Oh, yea?” The mockery in his voice is clear. “I don’t think ya will!”
“Oh, I will alright. Unless you start actually helping me.”
“I’m keepin’ ye entertained!” He throws his arms out confidently as if the explanation makes all the sense in the world. “Isn’t that enough?”
“No.”
“Well, fine. I’ll help you with the stupid damn boxes.”
“How sweet of you.”
He picks up the heaviest box (you wonder if he knew it was the heaviest one) with ease and lugs it around like it’s nothing, and it forces you to remember how strong he is. Of course, he’s treating it more like a ragdoll than a normal person would, but it still counts.
Aran actually manages to move a couple of boxes and be helpful (this is a great shock) for a while, managing to lift up anything remotely heavy like it’s nothing at all. You’re almost done when he decides to fuck around again.
“This book seems like shit!” he declares after a period of silence, making you jump. Wheeling around you see the book, dusty and smelling of mildew. You don’t remember if it’s actually shitty or not, so you just offer a halfhearted shrug.
“Why the fuck would you have a book around but not read it?”
“I don’t know, I think I read it a while ago. You can throw it out, or keep it, I don’t really care.”
“Like I’m even gonna fuckin’ read it,” he says, tossing it aside aimlessly.
“Stop throwing things on my floor, please.” Bending down, you pick the book up and wipe off some of the dust, placing it with much more care onto your countertop. After a cursory glance around the room, you realize you’re pretty much done.
“That’s it,” you say, searching for your wallet. “That’s pretty much all of it.”
“Thank God,” he sighs, overly-dramatic for no real reason. “I was bored as shit doin’ that, y’know.” An idea pops into your head, and you go with it before you can convince yourself to stop.
“But you kept doing it.”
“The hell are you sayin’?”
A coy smile spreads across your face, slow and careful. “I’m saying that you like to bitch and distract yourself, but you never leave. If you like spending time with me, Aran, you could’ve just said so…”
“ Aye,” he retorts, voice low. “You’re fuckin’ lucky I even came here - I could’ve jus’ as easily told you to fuck off!”
“Uh-huh,” you say, putting too much emphasis into your voice. Smiling sweetly at him, you practically sing, “Sure you could’ve.”
“You bet your ass I could’ve! In fact, I’m leavin’ right now!” He turns towards the door, fully ready to swing it wide open when your voice stops him again. “Aran, wait.”
“What the fuck is it this time? Need another favor? ”
“I was originally gonna give you your money, but if-”
“I don’t want your fuckin’ money, ye? I got enough money. I don’t need yours.”
You smile again. “Mm, I see. Spending time with me is enough payment.”
“Oh, fuck off.” He looks you up and down suddenly, and you feel yourself tense up, as if he’s examining you. He licks his lips, then turns back around.
“I’ll see you around, Aran.”
“Go fuck yourself,” he mumbles, leaving the room and closing the door behind him again, securely, as he always did.