Heartmates Again (Heartmates #2) Read Online Marcus Herzig

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Heartmates Series by Marcus Herzig

Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)

Once upon a time, there was no happily ever after.
Things have gotten much quieter since Lars and Connor’s tearful fairy tale reunification went viral, but even now, as college studednts, their love is still going strong. Or is it? In the daily grind of work and study, there isn’t much room for a healthy sex life, and if you still live under your parents’ roof there isn’t really a proper space for it either. On top of it all Connor seems to have a secret. Where does he go when he skips classes? Is he seeing someone else? In the middle of a pandemic? Lars has many questions he doesn’t want to know the answers to, but when an old friend volunteers his services, Lars must face the truth.



The end was not the end. It almost never is. As long as you’re still alive, the end of one thing usually marks the start of something new. When the last battle has been fought, when the gun smoke has dissipated and all wounds have been treated, when the beautiful young prince and his other beautiful young prince have gone home, the mundane routine of daily life kicks in. After the party comes the hangover. With the hangover comes the headache. Suddenly you find yourself fighting a whole new kind of battle, and I’m not just talking about toilet seats and toothpaste tubes.

I picked up a chair and hurled it at one of the half-dozen uniformed students of Seiryo High School that had ambushed me in a classroom. Sending him crashing into a wall, I turned to the next one, throwing punches at him until he sank to the floor. The next bully approached me from behind. With a quick turn and two swift kicks in his head, I knocked him out.

“Way to go, Mr. Miyagi,” Connor said, stuffing a handful of popcorn in his mouth as he watched me.

“Stop calling him Miyagi,” I said, grabbing another chair. “His name is Yamagi.”

“But that’s not funny,” Connor replied, his mouth full.

I took a swing and hit the chair against the bully’s head. He went down. “Your racist dad jokes aren’t funny either,” I said, slamming the chair down on the bully until he no longer moved.

“Racist?” Connor asked, feigning indignation. “My first boyfriend was Asian!”

I scoffed, facing the last bully still standing. He came at me with a box cutter. “That’s like racist people saying they can’t be racist because they have exactly one black friend.” With three rapid kicks against his chest, I sent the bully sliding across the floor until he came to lie in a corner of the classroom, motionless.

“I happen to have one of those, too,” Connor said.

I looked around. All the bullies I had eliminated had magically disappeared, and the room was empty. There was nothing left for me to do here, so I walked out into the hallway and ran down the stairs. “Oh, yeah?” I asked. “When did you last talk to Kelvin then?”

“I liked one of his Instagram posts the other week.”

I cast a side glance at him. “Sounds like a wonderful friendship.”

“When did you last talk to him?” Connor asked.

Touché. The last time I had actually spoken with Kelvin had been at our high school graduation, but I didn’t have to tell Connor that. I had spoken with Coco somewhat more recently and told her to tell Kelvin I said hi, so as far as I was concerned, I had spoken to Kelvin by proxy. I’m using the term ‘recently’ somewhat loosely here. After our graduation from high school, contact with all our friends had become sparse. It made me rethink the definition of friendship. I used to think friends were the people you enjoyed hanging out with on a regular basis. It had never occurred to me how much choice—or the lack thereof—factored into it. If you spent most of your time with people only because you were legally mandated to attend the same institution every day, were they really friends or just mere acquaintances, connected to you by fate rather than free will? I remembered the dozens and dozens of teary-eyed hugs at our graduation ceremony and the seemingly heartfelt mutual vows to keep in touch. Two months later, it turned out most people—full disclosure: me included—thought keeping in touch meant following someone’s social media and occasionally tapping the like button. It was easy to remain vaguely aware of what was going on in someone’s life without ever actually talking to them, let alone having to put on pants and leave the house to meet them in person. When most people still lived at home and every night was a school night, it was easy to get a hold of people. Things were different when everyone was at college or spent their nights flipping burgers. Cocovin—Coco and Kelvin, that is—shared a dorm room at UCLA now, and while Los Angeles wasn’t exactly out of this world, it might as well have been. When I got home after a busy day at college, took a shower and got something to eat, maintained my website, replied to comments and messages on my flourishing social media accounts, and squeezed in some time for drawing because my webtoon needed a new panel and my Patreon patrons expected fresh new content once a week, I suddenly realized I had no inclination to spend forty-five minutes on the freeway, another forty-five on the way back, and pay an arm and a leg for parking in L.A. just to spend a couple of hours with someone I could just as well video-call. So, I stayed home, but I never made that video call either because most days it was already so late and I had to get up at six the next morning.