We sat on a bench in front of the gym. Asa was still in his yoga outfit -sweat pants and a t-shirt- and stared ahead in the distance with his arms crossed.

"My parents came by," he finally broke the silence, after what felt like hours. "The day before the tournament. I was--"

Asa's voice trailed off, but I didn't need any more of an explanation to know why that wasn't good. Asa wasn't living with his parents, didn't even have the same surname as them anymore, and I assumed it was all for a reason.

The real question was a completely different one.

I followed Asa's example and looked down at my feet on the pavement below us. "Why didn't you tell me? I would've understood."

"The same reason why I asked a ridiculous fifty dollars for 'protecting' you when you first approached me."

My eyes shot up to Asa. "What?"

Asa kept his gaze trained on the ground. His shoulders rose and fell.

"You're one of the cutest guys I ever met and I wanted to scare you away." He frowned. "I wanted you and I wanted to scare you away simultaneously. Does that make sense?"

"I--" I opened and closed my mouth, realising I didn't exactly have words ready to follow up with. No, not really. It didn't make much sense to me, especially the part where I was one of the cutest guys he'd ever met.

Despite telling myself I shouldn't like Asa anymore, the red crept up to my burning cheeks anyway at the compliment. I couldn't stop my treacherous body from responding to him.

Asa leaned against the bench, tilting his head back to look up at the sky. He let out a humourless chuckle.

"You're right. I haven't had relationships. Or many friendships... Not any, right now. That's why my aunt and uncle are so protective. They've seen people come and leave and me fucking it up."

"This happened before," I muttered. "You've done what you did to me with your 'assistants' as Cindy put it."

"No," Asa replied, rubbing his temples with his eyes squeezed shut. "No," he repeated. "Not like this. I never told any of them about my psych. Nor about the fact that I used to do mathlete competitions, that I was a researcher, and I don't live with my parents anymore."

"You didn't exactly tell me those things either."

My sheepish remark made a ghost of a smile flicker across Asa's face, but his brows furrowed immediately after.

"I wouldn't have told you. Because if you knew about me -- I thought." Asa paused. "I thought you'd-- It's not right. I mean, if you have to trick yourself and your conscience to keep doing your job. If you have to ignore your gut twisting, telling you it's not right every day, then it's not... Right?"

Asa's cobalt blue eyes darted to me. He seemed to be searching for something. An answer. Some sort of reaction.

"Right," I agreed, because I figured Asa needed me to.

Asa's gaze shifted to the pavement again. "I was sure you wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore if you knew. Why would you? I was so sure you'd judge me and be disgusted and then... you weren't."

For the second time today, I found myself at a loss for words. Here I was, thinking Asa didn't give a shit about what people thought all this time. I mean, you needed to have a certain type of 'fuck everyone's opinion' attitude to ride a pink Barbie bike as a male teenager.

But that was a different kind of not caring. Or rather, it was not caring on another level. A pink bike and rumours about schoolyard fights with jocks weren't comparable to developing killer algorithms.

Asa had gone far beyond high school pettiness into the 'adult' world, and it'd left some real scars. I could see that in the way he still refused to look at me and the tenseness in his jaw and drawn up shoulders.

I reached for Asa's hand. His muscles twitched but then he uncrossed his arms and allowed his fingers to entwined with mine.

"I'm not mad anymore, okay?" I said. "Just be honest with me. Tell me stuff like your parents coming by and messing you up, or whatever happened to you. That's all I want."

"Yeah, I might as well." Asa took a deep breath. "We got pushed around a lot. My sister and I. Music lessons, language, math, etiquette. Anything that would make sure we were perfect. My sister is still there with our parents and I'm the screw up. The weak one who had a breakdown. The day before the tournament they stopped by to remind me. A medical bill had accidentally landed on their doorstep."

"Hey, you won contests and the top level military employers wanted you before you were even of age," I offered, gently squeezing Asa's hand. "Can't imagine any universe in which you're the screw up.

"Oh, you have no idea." Asa smiled humourlessly. "The worst part is... I wanted it all too, once upon a time. The prestige. The high-class life. The money."

Asa pressed his lips together. "I was arrogant, convinced I was the shit. So much I was prepared to toss morals and everything else out of the window at the first big opportunity."

"Asa, you were seventeen," I said. "How could you have known?"

"You're seventeen now, and you know better," Asa rebuffed, scowling. He didn't seem mad at me however, but mostly at himself. "And I fucked up things for you by encouraging you to go to that tournament."

"If you hated the spotlight yourself, why did you encourage me?" I suddenly wondered out loud.

"Because you deserve much better," Asa replied without missing a beat. A small smile appeared on his face. "And unlike me, you're not hurting anyone with your skills. In your video games."

"Right."

With everything Asa had said, I understood things much better now. I'd been collecting bits and pieces of the puzzle for a while, and now I could finally bring them all together in a big picture.

Asa had been pushed into performing as some sort of child genius. Then, encouraged by everyone around him, he rolled into a job which he could handle intellectually but not emotionally. Something broke. And, apparently his parents would not leave him alone. Even if he was no longer living with them and changed his surname.

"I think I have a pretty clear image now," I said. "Of you."

"Then you understand why it's complicated." Asa paused and snorted. "No, it's actually not. I'm just tragic 'wunderkind' number ten thousand five who ended up grossly overestimating themselves."

"Asa..."

I disentangled my hand from Asa's, slowly reaching up to let my fingers trace his jawline. Asa's shoulders slumped as I touched him and he tilted his head to the side to lean into my touch.

"I really don't care about what you did, Asa. Just be honest with me from now on. That's all."

Asa shifted my way until he was laying against me, cheek pressed to my chest.

"I will," he promised. "I really am sorry. About the tournament, too. I'll help you fix it."

Asa's eyes fell closed as I wrapped my arms around him. This was the first time he'd ever shown any sort of vulnerability around me. I didn't know how to handle myself. Even my limbs, my hands on Asa's back, suddenly felt all kinds of awkward, and that was always when the stupid remarks set in.

"So, now that we're being honest: who were the cookies I baked for?" I blurted, right before cringing at the bad joke.

What the hell? I wasn't great with serious situations, but I was also painfully aware that I needed to not fuck this up now, or Asa might never let down his guard around me again.

I opened my mouth to apologise, but Asa was faster.

"For my grandma," he replied, dead serious. "Cindy promised her homemade cookies and I didn't want to give her food poisoning with my attempt. Or worse: have Cindy do it."

"Really?" I couldn't stop a chuckle from escaping my mouth.

Asa cracked one eye open. "Yes. What about it?"

"Oh, nothing." I grinned, pushing Asa's hair off of his forehead and planting a kiss. "I just found out you're secretly kind of a softie. Not scary at all."

Asa didn't protest me teasing him. He just closed his eyes again with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.