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Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

Considering Noah’s situation, he shouldn’t have come to the students’ party in honor of the beginning of a new academic year, especially considering the fact that there was not a single soul waiting for him at this celebration of life. However, Andrea insisted. She said that this school year just HAS to be different from the previous two. In her opinion, this party was a sick opportunity to give it a fresh start. Noah decided not to remind Andrea that she also labeled the cafeteria’s coffee as a sick beverage, even though it tasted like dishwater. And Psycho III was sick, but everybody knows that it’s a terrible movie. Anyways, Noah agreed to go to the party despite all the doubts. He didn’t hope, though, that everybody would be diagnosed with amnesia during this summer break (although it would have been great) and, suddenly, they would finally stop gossiping behind his back or posting offensive jokes on social media. Noah decided to attend this party to make everyone understand that he won’t be giving a shit about their opinion for the third year in a row. Of course, deep down, he cared about their opinion but he would never show it to these people. Only Andrea had a chance to face his true emotions once in a while. Scott was a person who saw them even less. To be honest, Noah's main audience were his granny’s cats – Peanut and Fluffy. The rest of the world thought that Noah was completely care-free and he was okay with it. 

“How much more are you going to eat?!” Andrea’s indignant voice scared Noah so much that he stuffed more tartlets with an unknown green stuffing into his mouth in case she decided to drag him away from the snack table. 

“I’ve just started!” Noah tried to assure Andrea, swallowing his gain and reaching out for a new one. The girl shook her head judgmentally and slapped Noah’s hand a little, trying to stop him from stealing more from another plate. 

“Do you usually come to parties just for snacks?” she asked him, perfectly knowing the answer. 

“Also for drinks,”  Noah reminded her, “I love free drinks as much as free snacks,” he said, and demonstratively drained his beer from a plastic cup.

“You know what I mean!” Andrea frowned and flicked her black curly hair that was shoulder blades long. 

“No way, don’t say that he’s gonna eat all the food that was brought here for 50 people!” Scott jumped out of nowhere and stared at Noah as judgmentally as Andrea did. Scott was on her side in any possible situation, probably because, during all the years of their friendship, he was utterly head over heels in love with her. He never confessed his love, though. On the other hand, Noah had a feeling that Andrea was very much aware of Scott’s feelings. He could nothing but guess why she didn’t want to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.

“Why do you care so much? Did you make it yourself?” Noah snorted while pouring himself another glass of beer, “If you don’t want me to eat or drink, what do you want me to do during this unbelievably fun occasion?”

“What do you mean?! Relax! Have fun! Meet new people!” Andrea even spread her arms around. 

“Yeah, sure,” Noah grunted as if surprised that his friend doesn’t consider food as entertainment. 

“Why are you so pessimistic?” Andrea was standing with her hands on her hips, “If you’re still worried about that stupid gossip, I wanna draw your attention to the fact that there are tons of freshmen here who know nothing about you or about those absurd stories surrounding your persona.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Noah sighed with a sense of déjà vu. Andrea was saying exactly the same thing a year ago. However, last year, she also added that everybody had already forgotten all this stupid gossip. But she was so wrong. Nobody forgot about it then. So there was no reason to hope for anything better this year. 

“Well, be sure then! This very moment! Stop consuming this annual food supply on your plate and go put your personal life together!” ordered Andrea, which made Noah roll his eyes at her. Personally, he has already put an end to his personal life and didn’t understand why his friend couldn’t do the same, “Wait, but first, help me put together mine!” and, while saying that, Andrea was already going through her purse. Scott pulled a long face. 

“Who’s the victim this time?” Noah got curious and smiled. Andrea was not from a timid dozen at all. If she liked someone, she would throw all her forces in order to achieve reciprocity, and that’s why Noah admired her. Unfortunately, none of her affairs lasted more than a month because Andrea would almost immediately lose all interest after getting what she wanted.

“Otto Philips! God, I could drown in his eyes!” stated Andrea while still trying to find something on her phone. 

“Another dumb football player?” Scott snorted coolly, like he couldn’t care less. However, Noah understood, from a tiny change in his facial expression, that his friend’s mood was completely ruined for tonight. 

“Na-ah: another hot dumb football player,” Andrea started laughing as if she didn’t notice, or didn’t want to notice, Scott’s sadness. God, they needed to talk a long time ago. But Noah had no idea how to delicately encourage Scott to do it without hurting his feelings or being a busybody, “Found it!”

“What’s up?” Scott was about to approach Andrea but she pulled her phone to her scoop neckline, not letting him look at the screen. 

“It’s not for your eyes,” she said and gave her phone to Noah.

“Why is he allowed and I’m not?” Scott was indignant. There were even slight tones of jealousy in his voice. This hit the most because Scott knew very well that Noah was not a rival for him. 

“Darling, even though you’re my friend, you’re straight. A gay guy, on the other hand, won’t get confused by my underwear!” That's how Andrea announced the main reason why Scott shouldn’t get jealous of Noah. 

It was true, Noah wasn’t confused by Andrea’s bathroom selfie, despite the fact that she was standing wearing just her silk lace underwear. He wasn’t confused also because it wasn’t the first and certainly not the last picture of that kind. What did bother him a little was a withering look coming from Scott. Noah just helplessly shrugged his shoulders in response. 

“Do you want an adequate review or… 

“Oh, I don’t give a damn about adequacy! I need help from your ‘Devil’s Eye’!”

Andrea named ‘Devil’s Eye’ Noah’s talent to hunt out blunders where no one else would ever pay attention. In other words, while everyone else is staring at bombshells with huge boobs, cute kitties, or pumped up machos, Noah notices a stupid hole in the wall, a socket that was completely out of turn, or even trash in the background right in the corner of the picture. Sometimes ‘Devil’s Eye’ goes wider, and Noah starts noticing even the slightest flaws about people surrounding him. In order to reach that point of negativity, Noah should be in an extremely bad mood. 

“Here, take a look, there are a couple of pictures here. Tell me, which one is the best,” Andrea asked. Noah’s friend has asked for help so many times now that he was about to ask for salary and social benefits. 

“Overall, pics are good. Red suits you well,” Noah decided to start from the distance, but then again he noticed Scott being tense, so it was best for him not to say too many compliments or details about the pictures, “But there’s one thing that pisses me off.” 

“I bet there’s not just ‘one thing’,” Andrea nodded without being offended. She usually gets so concentrated when Noah gives her comments, like it’s her thesis being commented on, not her nudes. 

“That’s true,” Noah agreed and glanced at the picture again, “But the rest isn’t so obvious.” 

“What’s wrong then, tell me!” Andrea was impatient, standing on the right of him, looking at the picture, and trying to predict Noah’s comments like she was looking with his eyes. 

“Your underwear,” he answered calmly. 

“Oh my god, I’m fat, aren’t I? I knew it was too much for me!” she threw her hands up. Andrea was constantly worried about her weight because, in her opinion, her shape was far from perfect. Sometimes she would diet too much and get angry and jealous, looking at Noah eating like a horse and still being as thin as a herring. However, Noah, himself, thought that Andrea was incredibly beautiful and could go to anyone’s head with her curvy shape. Well, she could go to anyone’s straight guy head, at least. But Andrea didn’t want to hear any of that. 

“No, it’s not that,” Noah sighed, “Your underwear is rumpled.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Andrea sounded surprised, so she zoomed in on the pictures and took a closer look. “Oh, you’re right. Do people iron underwear?” 

“I have no idea. But speaking of your panties, they look like you’ve played football with them before putting them on.” 

“Okay, understood. I can fix that. Is there anything else?” 

“There’s your hairbrush in the foreground with so much hair, it’s scary. Feels like it’s about to come to life and run away to kill. You can’t see it in the other pictures, though. Perhaps, you decided to fix your hair during this whole home-photoshoot. And here, in the first picture, you’re standing a bit further than in the others, so now you can see toilet paper in the background. Sure thing, you can’t imagine a restroom without it, but the whole sexy vibe vanishes.” 

“Okay, gotcha. So we pick the second one. There’s no hairbrush or toilet paper here. And I can fix the panties with a photo editor,” Andrea sounded like they were doing business. She took her phone back. “I’m not too fat, though, am I?” she asked. 

“You look marvelous. Chocolate-brown skin and red underwear – it’s super erotic,” Noah assured her, being 100% honest.  Andrea brightened up and started editing the picture. Scott sipped his beer nervously, trying not to look at his friends. A minute later, the picture was sent. 

“Aren’t you worried that Otto can show your picture to the whole football team?” he mumbled finally. 

“I’m not. I can send nudes only under the sole condition,” Andrea winked. 

“I’m afraid to ask now,” Scott snorted. 

“They have to send nudes first! So, if my picture gets spread around the college, so does Otto’s”-she gave a cute smile-“and, trust me, I’m the goddess in this picture! You should have seen Otto… Those awkward pictures you, guys, are sending trying to look sexy, it’s unbelievable! Noah, if you ever decide to send sexy-photos to your hypothetical boyfriend, please, send them to me first, okay? So that we can do something sick !”

Noah skeptically grunted. There’s no way he could get a boyfriend, not in his lifetime, but Andrea had the opposite opinion. 

“And stop looking like you came to the memorial service! I want you to relax and… Oh, look, Samantha’s here! Sorry, guys, but I haven’t seen her the whole summer, I gotta go and say hi!” Andrea shouted and ran to her classmate. Scott sighed again and followed her. There was no way he could leave her. Like a faithful dog. He could stop ‘guarding’ her only if Andrea had another affair. Then, it was the date’s duty to provide her safety.  

From one point of view, Noah was happy that he was finally alone. Nobody is going to salt the wound, reminding him that he’s still single. A relationship with someone was just his dream, and he felt like a stupid kid, who'd been reading too many fairy tales about princes and princesses. 

From another point of view, while Scott and Andrea were with him, Noah could feel at least a tiny bit relaxed, but as soon as they were leaving, he immediately started catching mocking glances at himself. 

“What, really? No way, he looks normal, though… 

Noah’s ear caught something, and he turned around earlier than he realized it was a bad idea. There were two girls whispering just a couple of steps away from him. One of them was Miranda - she was from the same faculty. He didn’t recognize the other girl, which means, there's a 99% chance she was one of the freshmen. Gossip girls looked at Noah, but as soon as they realized that he saw them, they effaced themselves and made it look like they were talking about something else. Like he could believe that. 

Here we go. 

Rumors. 

They were growing and multiplying, like cancer cells. 

Look at that, after finding a new audience, rumors started spreading right on the first day. It’s just interesting, what was in Miranda’s head when she decided to share questionable information about Noah with that freshman girl? Maybe she mentioned that he’s cute, or even thought of getting acquainted with him? Or maybe, maybe Miranda just got bored and decided to settle down to a good old gossip. Noah, of course, was the best subject for that. 

Usually gossip was on everyone’s lips for no longer than a couple of weeks because even the craziest things, after being told a thousand times, became boring. So, in a weird way, Noah could consider himself a chosen one. Rumors have been following him for two years now, and there was a big chance the same thing could happen again. It felt like there was no end in sight. Supposedly Noah’s story got so scandalous that the crowd was still interested after all this time. But the problem wasn’t about the scandal or its reasons. The problem was that somebody was stirring up interest among the others. Noah had no idea who that person was. 

‘Devil’s Eye’, fully impregnated with his owner’s bad mood, started slowly spreading around the room full of people. It worked a bit differently on people than on pictures. Finding defects in the pictures isn’t the same as doing it with people. And Noah didn’t mean the defects that were out of tune with the beauty standards of the past. He tried to look for something people considered to be their defects. Something that could offend them just by mentioning it. Noah wasn’t a person who liked talking shit to the others but he was put in a position where he had just two options: he could either run away (he had already tried it before but got no outcome), or he could face the conflict and fight back. If they hurt you, hurt them back. Noah’s mom, a hot-tempered Catholic woman, used to say that Jesus tells us to turn the other cheek. Firstly, Noah didn't need any recommendations. Especially from Jesus! Second of all, he liked his cheeks, and if one is constantly burning from the strokes of misfortune, he’s going to cherish the second one to the last. 

When Noah suddenly heard a loud laughter coming from the farther corner of the room, he had already spotted new acne on Paul Dias’ nose and all those extra pounds that Jody Wood had gained over the summer. He turned around and winced a little. A group of people was sitting on a u-shape couch, and there was another unpleasant familiar face among them. Rufus Hughes was casually sitting on the cushions and telling something to the people around him. Sometimes his words were met with a chorus of loud laughter. Noah didn’t like Hughes because Hughes didn’t like Noah, and he didn’t even try to hide it. That’s why the fact that the party was going on at Rufus’ house and Noah was there was even funnier. Hughes played basketball, that’s why the group of friends he was hosting consisted of guys from his team, cheerleaders, a few basketball fans, and… 

‘Devil’s Eye’ stopped on a new guy and froze on this new character. A stranger was sitting right in the middle of the couch, squeezed between two twin-cheerleaders. Unlike the rest, he wasn’t laughing at Rufus’ jokes and wasn’t showing a single emotion. An empty sight of dark-gray eyes was aimed at the coffee table with scattered nuts on top of it. It was impossible to hide from Noah that Hughes looked quite uptight while keeping an eye on him: he looked at him as if he was a bomb with an unsettled clockwork that could explode at any moment. 

One of the twins snuggled against him while laughing at another Rufus’ jokes, and it couldn’t hide from Noah that the guy looked stiff and like he had just woken out of a trance. Even though his jaw was hidden with a black medical mask, it was easy to read all of his emotions from his eyes and wrinkles above the nose bridge. It was weird. What kind of guy would refuse to have two bombshells wearing short skirts and long socks cuddle him? Even Noah would be flattered, despite his preferences. But the stranger wasn’t happy with such kind of intimacy. He even slightly pushed one of the girls away, making it look like he really needed to check his earplug. The girl moved over, not even thinking that she was just a victim of a guy’s plan. The other twin was just hanging on his arm, just a bit above the elbow. Just as she got lower to a stranger’s wrist, the girl was moved over with the same technique as her sister. 

Noah could probably continue staring at the guy, questioning himself about why the hell he’s wearing a roll-neck sweater and a big hoodie on top when it’s so freaking hot here in California, why he needs a freaking medical mask, and don’t his palms feel sweaty in these fingerless gloves, but suddenly the phone in his back pocket of jeans woke up. And not just his. The whole house started buzzing with the tones of incoming messages. Noah swallowed nervously, hoping it wasn't something he thought of. His hopes vanished in a split second. Every student in the room checked their phones first and then stared at Noah. Somebody giggled. Another person gave Noah a look of undisguised disapproval. Muttering and giggling started spreading through the room, getting bigger like a coming avalanche. The first thing that came to Noah’s mind was to escape and run, run up hill and down dale till he loses his breath. With a supreme effort of will, he quenched this cowardly desire and did exactly the opposite: he stood still and decided to be one of the last ones to leave the party. Out for spite. If the others thought that he could be crushed down by it, Noah had some bad news for them: he was crushed down within the first semester of this nightmare. Now he preferred to go with the flow, pretending like none of this bothered him. 

Noah, under the careful supervision of the crowd, started taking his phone out super slowly in order to find out the level of his humiliation for tonight. He clicked on the TalkPanik [Nonexistent messenger made-up by the author] notification. There was a new message in an anonymous group that, if not everyone, at least the majority of the students followed. It said:

‘Attention-attention! An attraction of unprecedented generosity from Noah Morgan! Three blowjobs for the price of two! Only today, don’t miss the opportunity!’

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5' 8"-5' 9"

Noah should’ve already gotten used to such kind of jokes, but after the summer with no humiliation, his armor was weak. After reading this text, he felt a lump in his throat and a nasty shiver ran through his body. 

‘Get yourself together!’ Noah ordered himself, put his phone away and started eating all the leftover appetizers savagely. He could feel others staring at him and tears choked him. He wanted to cry so badly. But if he had gone to the restroom to cry his eyes out, that wouldn’t have left unnoticed. That would have been considered being a victory for those pranksters. He could go out for a smoke, though. God, Noah wanted to smoke so badly! But that also would have been taken as a weakness. The only right strategy, in Noah’s opinion, was to be completely apathetic to the surroundings. It would have been so nice if he had felt apathy, not faked apathy. Life would have been so much easier. 

“I don’t recall inviting whores to my house,” a loud voice addressed him. Noah flinched and almost choked on another tartlet. It was Rufus’ voice, of course. That text drew his attention to the fact that Noah was not only in his house, but especially in this very room. 

‘The waves are rolling out to sea, the boats are rocking on the sea.’

Everybody deals with stress in their own way: some would count till ten, others would name cities and familiar streets, or even pray inside their head. Speaking of Noah, an old foreign nursery rhyme would start running in his head. His grandma taught him this rhyme. She loved the sea and Noah inherited it from her. 

“I’m talking to you, Morgan!” again this loud voice, after which a beer plastic cup flashed just a couple of inches past Noah’s head. The cup hit the wall and beer spilled out, pouring over all the appetizers. That was an aggressive act and probably Rufus regretted doing it almost immediately. He was the one to clean everything afterwards. It’s amazing how people are willing to make sacrifices to show off in front of others. 

Noah was doubtful this kind of behavior could impress anybody. Hughes had another point of view, just like his friends. 

‘But the storm can’t scare us - captain is here with us!’ 

Noah put on the mask of indifference and turned to Rufus slowly, smiling like a horse. 

“Did you say something, sweety?” he replied slowly, licking crumbles from his fingers deliberately. 

“I said you weren’t invited,” announced Hughes, lounging on the couch like a king and showing everybody who’s the boss here. 

Those present held their breath, observing impending conflict. The party couldn’t be a success without a scandal. How nice that the main dancing monkey of the university, Noah Morgan, came to this abode of the intellectuals, so they could mock him as much as they wanted!

‘The sea is rough — one.’

“You’re right, I wasn’t,” Noah agreed immediately, “Like almost the rest of the others. So what? Are you gonna kick everybody out?” he asked acidly. 

“No, just you”-Rufus pointed his finger at Noah-“I don’t care about the others. At least, they’re not trying to moonlight at my party, giving a blowjob to anyone who asks.” 

‘The sea is rough — two.’

“Are you afraid of competition?” Noah laughed tensely, feeling that something was coming up. Something he couldn’t bear. He shouldn’t have brought himself down to Rufus’ level, or to anyone’s level. Noah understood it clearly, but he couldn’t defend himself in any other way. 

Many people thought his answer was smart, even witty. Chuckles surged through the room, making Rufus angry. And now he was getting angry for real. 

“I’m afraid I don’t want the others to take a boiling hot shower after sharing a room with you”-he growled, frowning-“I’m really worried about the guests, that’s why I don’t want to see the epicenter of the infection in my house.” 

‘The sea is rough — three! Sea figure, freeze in the blue sea!’

And Noah froze. Just for a second. That was the exact amount of time he gave himself to feel hurt before the defensive shield started moving, coming up from the depths of his subconsciousness, bringing up the feeling of suffocating rage and blind faith that ‘an eye for an eye’ – is a fair solution to any problem. 

“According to my information, contagious diseases are your thing,” Noah smiled as if he had just recalled that a year ago everyone’s rumor #1 was that Hughes gave one cheerleader chlamydia. Fun times! Noah was finally left alone for almost a week back then! 

“Get the hell out of here!” Hughes was already yelling, pointing at the door into the room furiously, meaning probably the front door. That was a great chance for Noah to escape the party kinda quietly and only being just slightly humiliated. But he was already carried away. Noah decided not to approach the door. Instead, he approached the U-shape couch, flopped onto it and put his feet on the coffee table provocatively. 

‘The storm is gone, the sea is clear! Noah is the skipper here!’

“Just to clarify, are your parents aware of the party you’re throwing here while they’re gone to Atlanta?” Noah asked curiously, his eyes squinted. 

“None of your business,” Hughes ruffled his hair angrily. He didn’t expect Noah could have the audacity to behave like that. He was 100% sure that yelling and screaming would be more than enough for Noah to turn his tail and run away shamefully. Well, what a surprise. 

“Should I call them and ask?” Noah made sure he spoke slowly with a wistful smile. 

“For God’s sake, Morgan, please don’t bring yourself down to these disgusting phrases,” Rufus rolled his eyes factitiously, trying to hide the panic that was already rising inside. The fact that Rufus’ father was a strict military man who kept a firm hand on him, waiting to send his son to The United States Military Academy at West Point (if there was any kind of minor disobedience) was familiar to everybody around the university. If he found out about the party, Rufus would be screwed. If Noah had this kind of parents, he would never dare to throw a party like that in a family home. But Rufus was a different person. He was the one who could take a stupid risk just to earn some popularity points. He loved acting like a rebel. A rebel who will clean the whole house frantically and freaking out about some broken vases a couple of days after the party. 

“Why disgusting though?” Noah made a surprised face, “There’s a note with a phone number of your parents’ hotel room here on the fridge. Didn’t you notice? It also says: ‘Sweety, don’t be afraid to call us at night if you have your nightmares again! Love, Mom’,” he quoted. Rufus felt awkward. He didn’t know that Noah had a habit of scanning and remembering every single detail when coming to the possible future battlefield. ‘Devil’s Eye’ was searching for every escape route and collecting every piece of information to use in its own defense. Pointing out some physical imperfections was just a part of the strategy to defeat the enemy. First you piss them off, then you finish them. 

“So what do you say? Shall I call and interrupt your parents? Or maybe we can take the easier way and pretend like we don’t see each other? You can go ahead and continue being a clown in front of your friends and I can peacefully finish my appetizers. How does that sound?” 

Noah’s conscience twitched a bit. He should’ve just gone away when there was a chance. Intimidation was way over the line. But it was impossible to back down. Noah imagined himself being a little scared boy, who was sent to walk the plank by the pirates. He could only see countless waves of the ocean in front of him, while sabres were poking his back. There were two options: leave and cut himself on the sharp sabres, or continue the conversation and jump into the dark waters of his malevolent subconscious, judging himself for everything afterwards. Noah had always chosen the second option. And then he had always regretted it. It would be better to cut himself on the sabres and die fast. He didn’t wanna drown in his own feelings for a painfully long time. But, at least for now, sabres scared Noah way more than the dark waters of the ocean. 

Hughes started working his jaws and clenched his hands. Noah tensed up. He didn’t want to fight at all. He was a weak opponent in such a conflict. Why the hell is he such a coward, yet unbelievably stubborn?! Those character traits were usually mutually exclusive! A hassle with Hughes won’t change much. Nobody would suddenly start respecting him and stop gossiping behind his back. Noah was just a person of convenience. He’s always a good topic to talk shit about. Then why? Why is he always accepting all challenges like he’s not frightened? Like ennui wasn’t trying to tear him apart from the inside? Like he doesn’t know about shame and doesn’t suffer from loneliness? Why is he doing all that?

Noah suddenly felt the urge to lock himself up in his flat, cuddle Peanut and Fluffy and burst into tears, wallowing in his grief, thinking how pathetic he was. But he had to sit on the couch against Hughes, acting like a complete jerk and putting up with the host’s vicious look. 

“Do whatever you want. You wanna stay at my party as a main fool? Good luck with that! But if I see you with one of the ‘clients’, I'll kick both of you out in a second. Do you understand?” Rufus said rapidly, after a long process of thinking. He decided that he’d rather lose some popularity points among his friends, then catch the devil from his dad. 

“Sure, baby,” Noah nodded and finally relaxed a bit. How great that he escaped the fight again! 

“Now get away from my sight!” Rufus yelled menacingly, showing that, even though he let Noah stay at his party, it didn’t mean that he could stick around his circle of contacts. 

“Your wish is my command, milord,” Noah bowed his head sneeringly, stood up from the couch and was just about to go check whether all the appetizers were completely ruined by beer, or maybe there was still something left. But ‘Devil’s Eye’ stopped again on the guy stuck between obtrusive twins. It was obvious that everyone was watching Noah and Rufus’ fight with breathless attention, burning the hole in one and supporting the other. That’s why it was almost bizarre that the guy in a medical mask was still staring at the coffee table throughout the whole fight. Like there was nothing else interesting for him. Like he was far-far away from Rufus’ home with his stupid jokes and acid comments towards Noah. That stranger didn’t fit in, not in this group of people, nor in the party. And it seems like he was aware of that. 

“And by the way…

Noah had no idea why he did that. Maybe ‘Devil’s Eye’ turned into ‘Devil’s Mouth’ for a second? “Stop touching him, okay? He isn’t enjoying that. Maybe you’re thinking he’s happy about your pretensions to his body, but here’s an opinion at the behest: he’s not happy, he’s pissed off, you’re torturing him, please stop,” he dropped a remark to the twins. Noah noticed that a guy in a mask flinched and probably glanced at him, but Morgan, not waiting for the reaction, went back to the table. Beer and snacks were waiting for his attention. 

5' 3"

A party with alcohol and cigarettes was the last place where Ethan wanted to be. But Audrey had a different opinion on that. Ethan thought she came here on purpose to piss him off. Or she didn’t give a damn. Both variants had the right to exist. 

The party was only a part of the problem. Hughes, on the other hand, was a way more serious problem. While trying to hook up with Audrey, he convinced himself that he had to gain Ethan’s favor first. He probably had no idea what kind of relationship brother and sister had. If Ethan had decided that Rufus was the best option for his sister, it would have put an end to his romantic inclinations, because Audrey would have rebuffed Rufus immediately. That was also why Ethan had to tolerate him. If Audrey had found out that her brother couldn’t stand Rufus, she would have taken Rufus to bed the same night. Just out of spite. 

Despite that Rufus had an extremely unpleasant personality. So, in order to escape stupid debates and sarcastic comments to any childish jokes, Ethan focused on the coffee table in front of him. He was staring at crumbles ‘decorating’ it, at the magazines on the shelf underneath the glass and at the carpet with a weird pattern. Ethan would have loved to dissociate completely, but the twins didn’t want to leave him alone. It suddenly got into their head like Ethan would enjoy that, or what? Or maybe they couldn’t stop cuddling because he was keeping his hands to himself? There were thousands of different variants explaining girls’ behavior. But Ethan stuck to the theory that the reason for that was his height. 5 feet and 3 inches. Ethan was taken for a cute puppy among all of those tall, drunk alfa-males surrounding him in almost every room. That’s why the girls behaved like that towards Ethan. He was annoyed about that. He wasn’t harmless, and he definitely wasn’t a cute puppy. But he was putting up with it. He didn’t want to give Audrey a reason to give Hughes attention. 

Besides that, Ethan had to deal with touching. It was fine through the clothes. But even the slightest move towards his naked skin would be stopped diligently, since Ethan had no idea how he could react. He couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t lose himself in response to their actions. What if he loses control and starts shoving antiseptic wet wipes into everyone’s hands? Ethan was truly afraid of that. Morbidly afraid. If something like that happened, everyone would think he’s crazy. Shit-talk didn’t bother Ethan. But that would definitely affect his sister. Audrey would start hating him even more, and Ethan’s pointless attempts to build a good relationship with his sister would fall into oblivion. There would be no second chance for him. 

“Just to clarify, are your parents aware of the party you’re throwing here while they’re gone to Atlanta?” that phrase brought Ethan out of emotional oblivion. It wasn’t exactly the phrase, though. He didn’t care who said what. He didn’t have a habit of listening to what others say. Sometimes he wouldn’t react to his own name. The voice dragged Ethan’s attention. Its sonority. It was beautiful. 

‘Don’t look up,’ Ethan ordered to himself. ‘Don’t you dare to look at him. You know how it usually ends.’ 

The conversation between Rufus and voice’s owner continued. Ethan was catching every single word unintentionally, pointing out the guy’s perfect utterance and how good his speech tempo was. Absolutely his type . Amazing. Maybe he’s working on the radio? Or maybe he’s taking singing lessons? 

‘Stop thinking about him. Don’t theorize. Abstract yourself!’ 

“…And by the way. Stop touching him, okay? He isn’t enjoying that. Maybe you’re thinking he’s happy about your pretensions to his body, but here’s an opinion at the behest: he’s not happy, he’s pissed off, you’re torturing him, please stop.” 

Ethan flinched and…

‘Don’t look at him!’ 

…looked up at the speaker unintentionally, just to catch a glimpse of his back. Skinny legs, skinny dark blue jeans. His black kimono-shirt had The Great Wave off Kanagawa sewed on its back and wide sleeves. Dark brown hair in a man bun undercut. The ends of his hair showed that its owner had bleached and dyed it either dark-blue, or green. And now it’s all faded to something like dirty green-blue. 

‘What a goofy look,’ Ethan thought, ‘I wanna meet him,’ the second thought came to his head immediately after the first one. Ethan knew himself way too good to understand: if that thought appeared, it wouldn’t go away. 

“Who’s that?” he asked, looking at Hughes. Hughes was even taken away because it was the first time Ethan had addressed him that night. 

“You mean Morgan?” he specified, like he couldn’t believe that Ethan could actually speak. Before, their conversations looked like Rufus’ verbal diarrhea and Ethan’s concise ‘yes’, ‘no’, and ‘dunno’. The fact that he knew other phrases besides those shocked Rufus. 

“If Morgan is the guy you were talking to, then yes, I’m talking about him,” Ethan answered with a heavy look. 

“You don’t know him?” one of the twins was so surprised, completely ignoring the stranger's request to stop touching Ethan. 

What a stupid question. Isn’t it obvious that if Ethan knew him, he wouldn’t start a conversation about this guy in a questionable manner?

“He’s a local star!” the other one stated. She, on the contrary, paid attention to the request and loosened the grip. 

“I’ve never seen him before,” Ethan said glumly. He rarely noticed other people. Apart from those who had beautiful voices. He could drown in clear speech like in deep waters. 

“You don’t know him because you’re not in the anonymous university chat!” one of the guys from Hughes’ gang said. “Dude, you’re missing out by rejecting the invitation!” 

Ethan thought he was missing out while still being at this party. It wasn’t worth the time at all.

“So who’s he?” he ignored that point. 

“Noah Morgan - the blowjob king and a local whore,” Rufus introduced the stranger and was thrilled when others started laughing. 

“The blowjob king? How do you know?” Ethan asked and tilted his head to the side without taking his eyes off Hughes. The question sounded provocative. If there was someone else instead of Ethan, Rufus would immediately lose his shit. But now he was stuck. Interesting, what scared him more? Maybe it was a possible fight with Ethan that would screw his possible relationships with Audrey? Or maybe because three weeks ago Ethan beat the shit out of one of Hughes’ 6’5” friends, who made a stupid joke about his height. Ethan wasn’t proud of it, like he wasn’t proud of his quick temper, which was the reason he was getting into the fight all the time. That’s why he apologized for the accident. Even though he didn’t consider himself truly guilty. It was quite fair to put such pranksters back in their place if they thought they had a right to mock him. 

“Everybody says that,” one of the twins shrugged her shoulders. 

“And what exactly do they say?” Ethan insisted. There was something the girls didn’t like in his voice. It gave them chills a little. 

“That Morgan sucks dick for money. I bet 10 bucks he has sucked more dicks than Penelope Wilson. And we know she’s not a picky one,” Hughes tried to make a joke, imagining himself being a standup comedian. His group of friends was really supportive with laughter, encouraging him to continue. 

Ethan had no idea who Penelope Wilson was and he also couldn’t understand why being sexually active and changing partners was still something bad in the 21st century. Nobody is keeping their virginity till marriage now. What’s the problem? Double standards? 

“You gotta check this out!” one of the twins giggled, slipping her phone to Ethan with a chat on the screen. 

“It’s obvious he wasn’t the one who wrote it,” Ethan said coldly, scanning the message briefly. “Do you have any evidence or do you just follow those stupid rumors and anonymous chats?” 

The silence was the answer. 

“Rumors don’t just happen,” Rufus finally answered. 

“Rumors just happen all the time. They also happen due to people’s hatred. You don’t even have to do anything extraordinary. What if I wrote in this chat that you’re doing heroin, what do you think, how fast the rumor would spread and how many people would believe it?” Ethan asked with pressure in his voice. 

“I don’t understand where you’re going,” Hughes frowned. Seemed like his patience was slowly running out. 

“I mean that everything here’s called bullying and nothing else. You’re bullying a person who has done nothing bad to you, am I right?” 

“Oh my god, Ethan! We all know pretty well that you study law. You don’t have to show it all the time!” the twin girl giggled nervously, trying to relax the atmosphere. 

“It’s not about my major, it’s about rationality. Every person is considered innocent until proven guilty. Does anybody have proof that… Morgan, is that right? Does anybody have proof that Morgan is selling himself as a prostitute? You say that he has sucked tons of dicks, but do you know at least one of his clients? Maybe you received information firsthand?” 

“He doesn’t deny anything!” Rufus tried to justify himself. 

“Oh, so if he denied you would stop mocking him? Or maybe it would get worse?” 

Nobody dared to answer Ethan. 

“That’s what I thought,” Ethan snorted, standing up from the couch. “Have a good evening,” he said and headed to the snack table.

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

Tartlets covered in beer were even better than without it. Noah managed to shove at least a half of what was left when he noticed Andrea and Scott coming towards him. He shoved a couple more just in case. 

“Are you okay? I’ve just seen…” Andrea said nervously, turning the phone in her hand. 

“Eferyfin’ is fine,” mumbled Noah, still chewing his food. 

“Oh my God, Noah! If you don’t stop eating all this junk food, your acne will never go away!” she frowned and put her hands on her sides. 

“Whatever,” Noad didn’t seem confused, “I like my acne,” he declared, touching the pimples on his sharp jawline. 

“Don’t be stupid!” Andrea was mad, “God, when does it end?” she said, slowly leaning upon the table and looking at her phone screen again. “I don’t know who’s doing that and why?!” 

“Maybe Noah’s crossed someone’s path?” suggested Scott, meditatively scratching his chin. 

“Are you kidding? It’s Noah! He wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Andrea disagreed passionately. Noah just exhaled loudly as an answer. He thought that no more than 10 minutes had passed since he snatched the opportunity to stay at the party by means of vicious blackmailing. But Andrea wasn’t completely wrong. If we try to forget that Noah sometimes has some clashes due to the gossip and rumors, he never gets into a conflict with anyone. He just doesn’t have the motivation to do that. He considered himself to be a patient and loyal person with a soft temper. He couldn’t even imagine when and where he could hurt someone. Even by accident. On the other hand, Scott was also kinda right. It was at least weird that Noah had been abused for almost two years without a single reason. Every person would get bored doing that with no motivation. If the person or people had a strong reason, it was a whole different thing. A hidden resentment, for example. 

“I don’t understand then,” Scott shrugged his shoulders. 

“Me neither,” said Andrea, and they both sighed. Noah continued eating. He had nothing to say. He has thought about it a thousand times. He has tried to find a reason a thousand times. And he has come to the same answer each and every time: he has no idea why it’s happening to him. 

Suddenly, he felt a lump in his throat again. Well, that was a bad time for that. But he swallowed it with another tartlet. Yeah, you can only wish to establish a good relationship with food and get rid of acne, when every day is so shitty that Noah has the same choice every night: a bucket of ice cream or sleeping pills.

“We won’t leave you alone today,” Andrea said seriously, “And God help me if someone barks at you again!” 

“Everyone who wanted to do it has already done it,” Noah said carelessly, “But I endured it all bravely! So don’t turn the party into a daycare by babysitting me. It’s the first day after the summer break. I bet you haven’t said hi to at least half of your friends!” In fact he wanted Andrea and Scott to stay with him. But Noah didn’t want to ruin friends’ evening because of his long, wearisome problem. 

“Are you sure?” Andrea asked, looking into his eyes. 

“Of course!” 

‘Of course not!’ 

“If something happens, promise to call us immediately!” Andrea demanded, already spotting a person from a drunk crowd who was probably one of her friends, looking for Andrea’s attention. 

“Or scream,” advised Scott, who couldn’t refuse his mission of bodyguarding Andrea. Noah couldn’t blame him. 

“I promise to scream at the top of my lungs!” he  said, nodding.

“And promise me to stop puttering around the table and meet someone new!” Andrea demanded again, “How long are you going to be all by yourself? I wish you a handsome, tall, and sexy guy who’s going to carry you in his arms! You deserve it!” 

‘He doesn’t deserve it, though. What kind of sins does the person need to commit in order to get punished with such a cute guy like me,’ Noah thought in response to his friend’s advice and nodded. Arguing with Andrea is just going to waste his and her time. Of course, Noah didn’t want to meet anyone. 

He saw his friends off with a sad look, reaching out to the tartlet plate, when he suddenly understood that the feast was over. The whole situation was screwed up. The reason to chill around the snack table was gone. That was a bummer. There was still some beer left in his cup that Noah sipped only when he needed to swallow the food. Well, he could at least refill it. There were a couple of opened bottles that needed to be made empty. There was also some punch, but everyone was passing on it. Oh my God, the punch! Did Hughes decide to be nostalgic and remember school times? 

Noah preferred not to touch the opened bottles, thinking that the beverages were already flat and lost their charm. That’s why he chugged the rest of the beer from his cup and scooped himself some punch. Considering the amount of alcohol in the cocktail, Noah was right: Hughes definitely wanted to remember the good old days. Morgan wouldn’t be surprised if Rufus was the exact flighty guy who would pour a couple of bottles of vodka into the punch bowl secretly from the teachers at the homecoming. Just as he did today. It was almost impossible to drink this slop. And also dangerous, because Noah has never let himself get drunk at these kinds of parties. Rumors can be rumors, mocking can go on, but the most dangerous thing was that potential ‘clients’ could sometimes be found after those absurd anonymous messages from the chat. The individuals were usually extremely unpleasant, and, of course, they all claimed that they were straight.

‘No worries, I’m into girls. I’m just curious!’ the usual song. And after Noah would back out, new rumors would suddenly appear, according to which Morgan was blowing a hobo for a bottle of beer. Or he was getting dicked by the professor in a store room for another credit point. Have you guys heard that Morgan jacked off that guy from a senior class at the library because he helped him with the lectures? There are tons of different variations. One is worse than the other. 

Diving into depressive thoughts, Noah sipped some of that weird vodka cocktail and decided that it wasn’t that bad, actually. The most important thing was to hold his temper. 

“Hi” something reached his ear, but Noah paid no attention and decided that somebody started a conversation beside him. “Hey…” Noah suddenly felt something cold and metal touching his cheek, and flinched a bit. He turned around. There was that same guy in a mask standing in front of him. After getting Noah’s attention, he put away a pen that he touched Noah with in his front pocket. 

'Well, it seems like you have a way bigger problem with touching than I thought?’ Morgan was surprised but decided to keep it to himself. He was staring at the guy instead. It was a surprise for Noah that a new companion was half a head shorter than him. On the couch, accompanied by twins, he created a way more powerful impression. 

‘At least, he’s not dangerous for me,’ Noah calmed himself. Though he was almost sure that the guy in front of him wasn’t one of those who would want to fit in his client base and then spread nasty rumors about him. 

“Hi,” Noah forced himself to speak and sipped his punch for the third time, just in case. He tried to look cool, but his hand, which was holding a cup, was shaking a bit. People don’t usually speak to Noah. Moreover, if they speak to him, they usually do it for a fight or a nasty joke. That’s why he was ready to hear something disgusting and take it on the chin with a smile. That’s fine; the clock is ticking. Sooner or later, he’ll get home and will be able to cry about every single unpleasant thing of the night. 

“I’m Ethan. And you’re Noah, correct?” 

‘Maybe it’s a scam with some hidden video camera? He’ll pretend to be nice to me and then knock the punch over him? Or he’ll spit in my cup? What’s he up to?’ Noah was panicking. His hand started shaking more. 

“Correct,” Noah forced himself again, staring at his cup with a look like he hoped that this plastic thing could beat the shit out of anyone. 

“How did you know?” he heard instead of the usual ‘Is the blowjob option still working?’ 

“Huh? Excuse me? What are you talking about?” Noah was confused and thought that he probably looked extremely stupid.

“About the touching thing,” the guy was patiently trying to explain, wandering with his eyes around Noah’s face. Morgan got a little confused and touched his right cheekbone reflexively. When Noah was stressed, he would often start picking his acne. That habit was calming him down, but it was usually driving Andrea nuts. His friend has been telling him that he is making it worse. 

“Oh, that,” Noah said slowly, trying to hide from the wandering look. “I just saw it.” 

“He just saw it,” the guy said slowly, like the word ‘just’ wasn’t fitting the phrase, “If it had been just easy to see, others would have noticed it already,” he parried. “Not the only guy during the 4th year of studies.” 

‘The 4th year?’ Noah was surprised, ‘You’ve been having it for 4 years? Oh, dear God.’

“I sorta have a superpower,” Morgan smiled nervously, trying to look as chill as possible. There were no cameras around. And it seemed like nobody wanted to ask him to blow anyone. It was hard to believe, but Ethan really seemed like he wanted to ask him a question. It felt so weird to talk to someone casually. “My friend calls it ‘Devil’s Eye’,” he explained, pointing at his left eye. It was the left eye because, on the contrary to the right eye, the left eye couldn’t see well, but Noah has never worn glasses or contacts. Keen-sighted right eye was enough for life, so that’s why he considered the left eye to be the devil’s one.

“So what does this superpower do?” 

Noah thought that Ethan would be disgusted. Or he would laugh. Or, maybe, he would decide that Noah is a freak. But he didn’t expect that he would take his words so seriously. It’s weird, but even with a medical mask on, it was easy to read Ethan’s emotions because of his eyes. He wasn’t mocking him. 

“I notice things that others ignore,” Noah explained, “Well, for example…” he took his phone out of his pocket and started looking for something until he found one of the pictures saved from the Internet. “What’s the first thing you notice?” he showed the screen to Ethan. The guy looked closely at the picture. 

“The guy who’s eating some chicken,” Ethan said after a second of silence. 

“And me, I see the cat that’s gagging on the floor,” Noah pointed to the left corner of the picture, where you could barely see a cat’s shadow figure arching its back with its mouth open. 

“Oh…”

“Yup.” 

“So, you’re saying that you noticed my problem after taking a single look at me? - Ethan said suspiciously.” 

“Why single, though? I was looking at you earlier,” Noah answered and then understood how creepy it sounded. “I mean, I’ve been looking at everyone here. Out of boredom,” he started explaining immediately, taking another sip out of his cup. 

What a nice punch. Yummy! 

“If that’s your secret, please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad. I was tired of looking at how they were torturing you,” he exhaled the phrase with effort. 

“It’s not a secret,” Ethan shook his head, “I just didn’t want to start the subject because I don’t want to answer the questions. I don’t wanna talk about it. So you kind of did me a favor: nobody would admit that they believed you, because your reputation, as far as I understood, is capable of improvement. But your note would make them notice it. So I’m grateful.”

Noah froze; he couldn’t believe what he heard. What’s going on? Ethan came up to him to say thank you? That’s so… sweet. 

“But I can’t take your word,” Ethan continued, narrowing his lids a bit. “Prove it.” 

That wasn’t sweet at all. 

“I showed you the picture.” 

“That's not enough.” 

“Okay, but why would I want to prove anything to you?” Noah was surprised, “If you don’t believe me, that’s fine,” he shrugged his shoulders. 

“If you’re lying and you found out about my…m-m-m… weakness some other way - that’s a problem.” 

“Whose problem?” 

“Mine. And yours.” 

“And what’s that got to do with me?” Noah frowned and almost screamed after, ‘Why is it always my fault?’ 

He came here to start a fight after all. And he was so naive to believe someone again. 

“Because you know something you shouldn’t.”

“I don’t know anything!” Noah was pissed off, regretting that he didn’t mind his own business. Nobody’s forced his hand! Why does he never learn his lesson?!

Noah was annoyed and turned his back on Ethan, ready to go away to another side of the table, showing that their conversation was over. But he didn’t succeed in escaping. Ethan grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it towards him, not letting him leave. 

“Prove it,” he said with pressure in his voice. 

‘Oh, screw you!’ 

“Okay, you want proof, here you go,” Noah said crossly, “Point at anyone you wanna find out something nasty about.” 

Ethan tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully, and then he nodded towards the guy near the bookshelf, who was professionally flirting with a freshman girl. 

“He’s got a terrible complex about his small dick”.

Ethan raised an eyebrow and looked at Noah with that expression on his face. 

“Let me anticipate your question: no, I haven’t seen his dick. And I’m not gonna claim that it’s small. He thinks it’s small. I had an unpleasant moment seeing him fix his underwear with a lift once.” 

“That’s nuts,” Noah commented, “A lift in his underwear won’t make him an ace in a bed. Neither a big size.” 

“Yeah, probably…” Noah answered nervously. “Is that all? Can I go now?” 

“No, that’s not enough. One more,” demanded Ethan, grabbing Noah’s shirt again. 

“I’m not your circus monkey,” Noah spitted out, but Ethan didn’t notice his comment or stop holding his shirt. “Okay,” Noah gave up, “Who’s next?” 

“Hughes.” 

“He’s afraid of his father to death.” 

“Are you kidding?”

“No.”

“He pretends like he doesn’t give a damn, though.” 

“He’s too dependent on the opinion of others. If you start condemning him, I bet he'll start crying like a baby in front of everyone.” 

“Heh. I should give it a try once,” Ethan said. Considering the tone of his voice, he was smiling. 

“Aren’t you guys friends?” Noah wondered. 

“Hughes and I?” Now you could hear neglect in his voice. “I better throw myself down the well.” 

That comment amused Noah. It turns out he wasn’t the only person at this party who couldn't stand the host.

“So be it, choose the third one,” Noah graciously let him pick. Ethan examined the room until his eyes stopped on a guy with a girl who were cuddling in a beanbag. The guy was touching her thigh, and the girl was ogling at him from time to time and then switching her glance to cold and aloof. Oddly, but her strategy worked a miracle, stirring the guys’ interest. 

“That guy,” Ethan nodded without taking his eyes off them. 

“Oh, that’s too easy,” Noah shrugged, “He’s hanging out at every party, though he’s not from the campus. There’s a 99% chance he sells dope to students,” he said and sighed. 

“Are you sure?” Ethan’s voice suddenly became deeper and even angrier. 

“Hm…I’ve never seen it myself, but I trust my guts,” mumbled Noah, getting confused because of the changes in Ethan’s mood. 

“Well. I’ll try to trust it, too. Let’s see what’s gonna happen,” he said and left towards the couple. 

5' 3"

Ethan knew that Audrey could do anything to piss him off. But making out with a local dealer was too much. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he exhaled and stood in front of them, blocking the lights. 

“The hell I want,” she answered slowly, showing that she couldn’t care less about her brother’s opinion. 

“What’s up with the dwarf?” the guy snorted, looking at him from head to foot. “I hope that’s not your ex.” 

“Ew, gross!” Audrey screamed, fully disgusted, “That’s my younger brother.” 

“Really? And how old is he? Like fourteen?” 

“Twenty-two,” Ethan said and clenched his fists. 

“Ha! Genetics showed no mercy and gave the best to your sister, didn’t it?” 

Why is everyone so concerned about Ethan’s height? Especially, when he was standing next to his long-legged sister Audrey. Their height difference was so obvious that people decided not to notice any other big differences between them. They didn’t share the same genetics because they had different fathers. Audrey’s dad gave her good height, thick dark hair, and dusky skin. Ethan, on the other hand, got gray eyes, pale skin, and light straight hair as a gift from his dad. His height was his mother’s gift, though. Ethan didn’t see a problem with that. People and their stereotypical thinking were driving him nuts. They were persistently trying to impose a complex on the things he couldn’t be responsible for. How is it even possible to humiliate someone based on the physical characteristics that they were born with? It’s so dumb. 

“I don’t trust him,” Ethan said guardedly, ignoring the guy’s answer. 

“Since when does my private life bother you?” Audrey snorted.

“It has always bothered me,” Ethan parried. 

“Sure,” the girl winced. 

“That’s true.” 

“I can talk to anyone I want,” she stated defiantly. 

“That’s true. You can talk to anyone you want if that ‘anyone’ doesn’t sell dope.” 

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Audrey said with a voice ‘I know everything, and I don’t give a damn’. Ethan clenched his fists again. It’s usually said on the Internet that the main thing in people’s relationships is to build a healthy dialogue. Ethan has tried to do the same with his sister multiple times, but nothing has worked. It’s difficult to follow the advice and articulate yourself when there’s no instruction on how to make the other person listen.

“Back off from my sister,” Ethan growled, trying to concentrate on the guy. It was pointless to persuade Audrey, as usual. 

“You look like a chihuahua – small and noisy. And you also probably pee everyone,” dealer chuckled, not even thinking of putting his hand away from Audrey’s thigh. “Out of curiosity, what’s gonna happen if I don’t?” 

“You’ll regret it,” Ethan promised. 

“Oh, cut your crap!” screamed Audrey, because, unlikely from her date, she was fully aware that Ethan wasn’t the man to make idle threats. “We’re just talking. He’s not selling me anything, okay? And even if he would…” Audrey stopped short, “I’m not gonna make family mistakes again,” she said acidly. 

“Get out of my sight, you piece of shit,” Ethan spat a phrase, trying to provoke him on purpose. He said it loud enough that it was impossible to ignore. There were too many eyes staring. 

“If you think I’ll show mercy just because this chick is your sister, you’re extremely wrong!” the guy threatened him. 

“Then show me what you can. Punch me,” suggested Ethan, not hoping for mercy. His expectations were met. A provocative wink was enough for the dealer to jump out of the beanbag aggressively, push Audrey rudely away from his lap, and start swinging at Ethan. Ethan counted everything, but he completely forgot about his reflexes. He should’ve taken that punch, but his fist rushed forward unconsciously, right into his enemy’s face. Who said that small height means less strength? Ethan could easily prove the fools who believed that stereotype otherwise. 

Dealer fell back into his beanbag, holding at his battered lips. 

“You bitch!” he spitted out angrily, planning another attempt to attack Ethan, but Audrey stopped him just in time. She grabbed his hand and pulled it towards her. 

“Forget about the jerk. Let’s leave this lame party together,” she offered. The guy winced. He probably thought that Audrey was trying to save her little brother. But she didn’t try to save Ethan. 

‘Miss the punch. Just one punch. You have to do it’ Ethan was saying it over and over again in his head, trying to suppress his instinct of self-preservation. It was a necessity in case her sister’s date decided to go to the police. There was almost a zero percent chance of it due to his occupation, but a little insurance would never hurt. He couldn’t say it was self-defense. Ethan punched first. But still, a missed punch could transform a battery into a fight of some sort. And after that, in court, Ethan could use the stereotypes about his height and cute face to his own advantage.

After pushing Audrey away, the guy attacked Ethan again. He could easily dodge the dealer’s slow and awkward blow, but he preferred to clench his teeth and take it. His nose burst into pain. The mask absorbed blood immediately. But Ethan remained standing. He learned how to take a punch a long time ago. 

‘That’s right,’ Ethan was satisfied, feeling a metallic taste on his tongue, “Now it’s my turn.”

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

Noah couldn’t get what was happening. He didn’t understand why Ethan had lost his temper and what kind of relationship he had had with that brunette hot stuff, who suddenly ended up being the main figure in this scandal. He couldn’t process how much he had accidentally contributed to this brewing conflict. But Noah clearly understood that his thoughts of the guy’s innocence had been wrong. While watching him knock down a head taller guy to the floor with one punch, and then start fiercely punching his face while sitting on top of him, Noah finished the rest of his vodka-punch and poured himself more immediately. Turned out it was actually interesting to witness the conflict if you weren't part of it. Although Noah was watching Ethan more. Who could have thought that this tiny guy could be so fierceful. 

The crowd didn’t watch the fight—well, the massacre—for long. Some basketball players from Hughes’ team jumped from their seats and rushed towards Ethan. The host of the party was among them as well. Noah could not resist the urge to watch how Ethan punched Rufus in the teeth with his elbow. Another basketball player, who tried to take the guy away from his prey, met up with the wall. Which was quite funny, considering that the unlucky hero was different from Ethan’s weight category, which weighed heavily against him. Judging from the look on his face, he probably didn’t expect that he could have been pushed away so easily.

Nothing was clear. But it was so interesting, though. Noah didn’t notice how the second cup of punch disappeared, like it had never been there.

Finally, two guys, not effortlessly, twisted Ethan’s arms behind his back and took him away from the poor coughing up blood guy. He was laying on the floor for a couple of seconds more, until he realized that a hail of blows had ended and he could get up. He roared something aggressively at Ethan while standing up, but Noah couldn’t make out what exactly. Ethan told him to bounce. The guy either listened, or maybe he noticed how difficult it was for two basket players to hold Ethan still so that he wouldn’t attack his victim again, but the dealer decided not to stay at the party. He hobbled to the exit, continuing to mutter something malignantly. Brunette was just about to follow him, but Ethan’s shout stopped her.

“Stop ruining your life trying to piss me off!” he shouted. The girl stepped back like from a slap in the face.

“Years are going by, and still nothing has changed! Do you really believe that the world revolves around your pathetic persona?!” she cried and rushed after her date.

“Audrey, stop!” Ethan tried to escape from two basketballers, but he didn’t succeed.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Hughes came to himself after the punch. “You need to calm down!”

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do!” Ethan growled, pulled his hand out of one of the basketballer’s fingers, and tried to reach Rufus. He could have probably punched him if the third basketball player hadn’t thrown him to the floor with a whoop.

“Take him to a winter garden to let the steam out,” Hughes ordered, giving a nod to the closed door. His friends dragged him through the living room all the way to the garden, and Rufus suddenly looked at Noah.

“It’s your fault,” he declared, pointing at him.

“Yeah, of course,” Noah snorted. “Did you find a whipping boy?”

“You had told him something before this whole thing happened,” Rufus was shaking in anger, “What?” 

“The truth,” Noah shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s what I thought,” Hughes nodded, then grabbed Morgan and took him to the winter garden, where they just put furious Ethan. “Now you deal with the truth you’ve said,” he said, and he kicked Noah out to the winter garden and locked the door.

5' 3" 

No matter how mad Audrey was at Ethan, her behavior was over the line. What does it mean ‘he doesn’t sell me anything’? He doesn’t sell anything yet . Audrey still had this conversation waiting for her. There were other unpleasant examples besides that. For instance, a dealer could spike a drink when she turned away. Not even to get her hooked on the stuff. Why couldn’t his sister understand that? Ethan was sure if he told her that, she would have called him a paranoiac.

He should calm down. Hold himself together. He’s also not right. He went too far. The fight didn’t solve anything. It just upset Audrey and made her mad.

He stared at his gloves. His knuckles became visible through the ripped fabric. They were covered in blood. He clenched his right hand and felt the nagging pain.

“Are you… Hm-m-m… Are you okay?"

Ethan was taken away so much with his emotions running high, so he hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t alone in the winter garden. He shivered and, while turning around abruptly, raised his fist reflectively. Maybe he wasn’t ready to defend himself, but he was certainly ready to fight another enemy.

The look of frightened sea-green eyes made him stop immediately, not reaching the face of the suspected opponent. Morgan flattened himself against the glass door. He didn’t put his hands up, though; he didn’t try to slip like other people usually do when they try to defend themselves. He just froze while staring at Ethan.

“Better than anyone,” he answered coldly, putting his hand down. “Why are you here?” he frowned and sniffed the blood running down his nose.

“That’s my fault, according to Hughes,” mumbled Noah, scratching his nose embarrassedly. “If that’s right, then I...

“That’s not right,” Noah cut his phrase in an irritated manner and looked around. His mind started taking over his emotions slowly. Ethan went over to one of the rattan chairs—there were three of them overall—and took off the mask from his face. Blood was already dripping through it, which was making it harder to breathe.

“But you got into a fight after what I had said. If I had had my mouth shut..."

“I would have been unaware of the fact that my sister was making out with a drug dealer,” Ethan said, taking a pack of wet wipes out of his hoodie to clean his nose.

Morgan stamped his feet next to the door and then went to the chairs, trying to follow Ethan’s example. But when Morgan came closer to the chair next to Ethan, he put his feet on the chair next to him demonstratively. He didn’t let people come closer when he was without a mask on. Even if Morgan was offended by it, he didn’t show it. He just went to the farther chair, sat down, and stared through the glass wall outside.

“What if I was wrong?” he said after a short while.

“Have you ever been wrong before?” Ethan answered a question with a question. Morgan shrugged his shoulders.

“Quite often," he said bitterly.

“Have you ever been wrong about people that mean nothing to you?” Ethan rearticulated the question, and Morgan shuddered and looked at him. “That’s what I thought,” Ethan nodded, not waiting for the answer. “Don’t worry, you’re not wrong,” he added, noticing that the guy just got even more nervous after his phrase.

"Okay, good, I guess." Morgan nodded and took a sip from his cup. Ethan finally got a chance to observe him closer. There were some light freckles on his nose. A little scar on the edge of his right eyebrow. A strand of curly hair on the back of his head. Ethan was trying to find anything that he wouldn’t like about Morgan’s appearance. It was pointless.

After noticing that Ethan continued looking at him, Morgan understood it in his own way and offered him his cup.

“I don’t drink,” Ethan refused.

“At all?” Morgan was surprised.

“At all.” 

“It’s rare these days. Do you smoke?”

“No.” 

“Do you mind if I smoke?"

“Do you ask for my permission?"

“Kind of. I’m concerned about others' well-being.”

“Well, that’s indeed rare,” Ethan chuckled, checking under his nose to make sure that blood had stopped. “Smoke if you wish. If Hughes’ parents smell the cigarette in the garden afterwards, he will get in trouble."

“That’s what I counted on!” Morgan laughed. He had such a ringing laughter, just like his voice. He had dimples from smiling. And he had veiny arms. There was a small black hoop earring in his left cartilage. Why is he such an Ethan’s type? It was so frustrating.

After getting consent, Morgan blew a breath of relief and took a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“May I borrow your pen, please?” he asked out of the blue. Ethan even took a couple of seconds before nodding and giving Morgan what he asked for. Morgan took one cigarette out and started writing something on it.

“What did you write?” Ethan asked when Morgan gave him his pen back. The guy just showed him a cigarette instead of answering.

‘Rufus Hughes and Co.'

“What for?” 

“It’s my way to deal with obstacles."

“Do you smoke them up?” Ethan skeptically uttered.

“Why not?” Morgan smiled and lit the cigarette. Ethan crumpled the blood-stained mask and threw it straight into the bin near the door. Then he took a spare mask out of his hoodie. He noticed that Morgan was watching him curiously and waited for the obvious question from him. But the question wasn’t asked.

5' 8"-5' 9"

Of course, Noah was dying of curiosity. He was tempted to ask Ethan why he was wearing a mask. Before he assumed that maybe the guy was trying to hide a scar or a mother’s mark, but now, when the mask flew into a trash bin and Noah finally saw Ethan’s face with no cover, all the assumptions faded away. There were no scars, mother’s marks, or even a single pimple. There was nothing one would want to hide. Anybody else would probably want to show everything the mask was hiding: prominent cheekbones, a straight nose, and eloquent eyes. He was quite a handsome guy. Probably his mask had something to do with his intolerance to the touch, but Noah had zero clue what exactly.

And yet he decided not to ask Ethan point-blank because he knew that it wasn’t the topic he would like to raise. After catching himself looking too closely at Ethan, Noah turned around to the panoramic wall of the winter garden and stared into the sky.

“What’s so interesting up there?” Noah didn’t expect that Ethan would want to continue this chit-chat. But he was the one to speak up first.

“Do you see that bright star?” Noah pointed at the bright dot to the left. The dot was noticeable to the naked eye, unlike the others, which faded because of the city lights.

“And?”

“It’s a Pole Star. Sailors used to use its position to guide their route because it usually indicates the North,” Noah decided to explain. Probably Ethan was just scarcely interested and asked the question out of boredom.

“Do you like marine themes?” Ethan continued asking.

“Hm-m-m.. Why do you think so? If I know one fact, it doesn’t mean that I'm into the topic,” Noah noted. He felt that saying ‘yes’ would seem too easy.

“It’s not just one fact,” Ethan shook his head while putting the new mask on and then automatically touched his shaved sides. “The print on your kimono. And the ends of your hair."

“Oh,” that was the only thing Noah could say. It felt new to receive this amount of attention.

“And your eyes..." added Ethan after a moment.

“What about them?” Noah was surprised.

“Do you wear contacts?"

“What? No. It’s my natural eye color, the regular one."

“You have sea-colored eyes."

Noah drew on the cigarette nervously and let the smoke out through his nostrils. The only person who has ever compared his eye color to the sea was his grandmother. But she could see this kind of similarity in almost anything. His mom thought that he had sordid blue eyes. His dad was sure that the eyes were green. Andrea said that they were obscure. Scott didn’t care about the color of Noah’s eyes. And only his grandma always insisted that Noah was her little salty dog, and the sea was splashing in his eyes and his heart.

Noah should’ve thanked him. 

But he got so scared of Ethan’s unexpected compliment, so instead he gasped, “The sea has many colors,” he felt that the answer sounded harsh and opposed, that’s why he added, “This couple of weeks there’s an art exhibition in a local art gallery. It’s dedicated to the sea and the ocean. I’ve already been there. Twice. It was great. You should visit it if you’ve got time. You can observe how many magnificent variations of color the marine scenery has. If you don’t want to go alone, I can join.”

‘Shut up, shut up, shut up!’ Noah shouted in his mind, since he had no idea what he was doing. Why the hell is he asking Ethan out to the art gallery? Nobody needs them these days, except for the elderly and Noah.

“I’ll think about it,” Ethan answered, instead of just saying ‘no’. He laid back in an armchair. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Anyways, everything was already clear after your ‘twice’."

“And what are your hobbies?” Noah asked to hide the awkwardness of the moment. Ethan shrugged his shoulders, although Noah couldn’t help but notice that Ethan touched a necklace underneath his shirt.

“I don’t have any,” he finally answered.

“None?” Noah was surprised. “There’s no way,” he said, shaking his head. “Everybody has some sort of hobby. Something that helps you distract from the real world."

“I’m always in the real world."

“How is it then? Do you like it?"

“Not really.” 

“Do you like movies?"

“No.”

“Computer games?” 

“No.” 

“Books?”

“No.” 

“You don’t read at all?” Noah didn’t believe him.

“I do. When I need to, not for pleasure or for an escape from reality."

“Okay. But it’s gotta be at least something…” 

"Hm," he heard something. It seemed like Ethan had just remembered something. “You’re right. There is, indeed, something."

“And what is it?” Noah cheered up.

“Maybe I’ll show it to you some other time,” he answered indefinitely. It sounded like he didn’t feel like sharing, or maybe, on the contrary, he hoped to continue their communication later. The first option was more likely to be true, but the second one gave Noah a bit of the vapors, so he hoped for it unintentionally. He kept in mind, though, that all of his hopes usually turn into a rotten pumpkin after midnight.

“What else can ‘Devil’s Eye’ do besides searching for photos’ imperfections and noticing others’ vulnerabilities?” Ethan switched the topic suddenly, ruining Noah’s hope to continue digging out those little pieces of information about his intriguing persona.

“Nothing much… Only vulnerabilities and farfetched imperfections,” handwaved Noah, finishing his cigarette and throwing the stub into his cup with some leftover alcohol.

“Farfetched?” Ethan tapped his finger against his chin curiously.

“Well, yeah. It’s like that guy and his small penis. The problem isn’t with the size of his penis; it’s Him thinking that it’s small. The same is true for the others. Somebody thinks that their nose is too big, and another is mad about his cheeks. Some others believe that they’re turning bald, even though it’s not true. Farfetched imperfections. Fantasized triggers. Despite that, these triggers are the most effective,” Noah mumbled, and he noticed that everything started spinning a little. His thoughts were a bit fuzzy. He drank a little more than he should’ve.

Ethan put his elbows on his knees and leaned more forward toward Noah.

“And what imperfection have you noticed in me?”

The question sounded extremely odd. Noah hesitated. 

“You won’t like my answer,” he muttered, embarrassed.

“It doesn’t have to be appealing,” Ethan grunted, “We’re not discussing my actual imperfections, are we? Spill it out."

Noah swallowed soundly. What did he think of when ‘Devil’s Eye' stopped on Ethan stuck between two twins?

“You’re,” Noah said with difficulty, “you are just one whole imperfection."

“Hah,” it seemed like Ethan was satisfied with Noah’s answer, but afterwards he remained silent for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

“Sweety, do you eat enough?” Noah’s mom sounded worried, trying to examine him through the computer’s screen. “I think you’ve lost weight!”

“You say it every single time,” Noah chuckled, leaving the web camera view to change from the pajamas into the ripped black jeans, the Japanese koi-printed white t-shirt, and a dark-green shirt. His curly square neckline, which Noah usually puts up in a ponytail, looked surprisingly good after the shower today, so the guy decided to leave it just like that.

“Trust me, I eat enough for three. Andrea gets really mad because of it,” he reported. “Oh, who’s finally awake here?” exclaimed Noah, feeling a touch. A fluffy black cat with a long tail rubbed his nose on his leg. Noah took the cat in his arms to show it to his mom. “Say hello to mommy!” he asked the cat, and, after receiving zero reaction, he started kissing its face. The cat laid back its ears uncomfortably, but he was bearing it, just like he bore Noah’s sobbing the other day. A new message appeared in the anonymous university chat and notified that Noah Morgan’s shop of indulgence will be closed for a week since he has to deal with the bouquet of STDs that he apparently got from his clients. It would be no big deal if one of the professors didn’t see him off from one of the classes, ensuring that health is more important. The whole auditorium burst into laughter for a good ten minutes. Noah wanted to go bright red with shame, but he only managed to go back home and weep into his cat’s back.

“God, Noah, remember I asked you not to kiss the cats! Don’t forget that they are –”

“– Satan’s disciples?” the guy guessed and laughed.

“Noah!” 

 “Yes-yes-yes, Satan’s disciples that are licking their own balls. I always forget,” Noah waved his mom’s comment away and kissed Fluffy right on the nose. “They are my cats... Well, at list now. I don’t mind them,” he stated, and he put the pet back on the floor. Peanut was lounging around on the floor in the patch of sunlight that was coming through the blinds. Noah decided not to interrupt the cat, even to show his mom the third habitant of his small flat.

“How’s the beginning of the school year? No problems?” mom asked with forced cheerfulness in her voice. Noah was fully aware what kind of problems she meant. Not those that he had, but those that he had never had. Unfortunately, Noah stopped trying to prove his innocence. So now he preferred to answer every time that he was fine, not going into details, so that he wouldn’t accidentally get into another fight, which would be followed by new insults. Noah did love his parents. He thought that they were the most understanding people in the whole world. But he still felt shattered every time he remembered that once they had believed the rumors, not their own son.

“Yes, everything’s great!” Noah assured his mom, since he decided not to tell her that his hobby of crying his eyes out every night returned right after the first school day. It was better not to tell his parents about some of his interests sometimes.

“Even though you say so..." it was difficult to fool mom’s instincts. “I’m worried about you, son.”

“Don’t be, mom. I’m fine! Everything’s great! I’m telling you!” Noah had to put in more effort in order to sound more cheerful.

“Wow, such an expression!" she sighed with relief, completely buying it. “What’s the reason? Is it about a boy?"

Noah came out to his parents as gay on his 15th birthday. His parents just answered that they loved him no matter what, and the most important thing for them was their child’s happiness. If that meant building a family with a man, they would fully support him. Those memories warmed his soul afterwards. Unfortunately, then came the, ‘Darling, we’ve made you an appointment with a sexologist. Also, we’ll give you a bigger allowance, but, please, don’t ever…’ 

Considering the fact that his parents were notified that their child, apparently, was working as a prostitute, their reaction automatically made them canonized. There was only one thing: Noah had never done anything like this before. Ever. But almost all of his friends, colleagues, university employees, and even his parents chose to believe that stupid gossip. The only people who didn’t believe that were his grandma, Andrea, Scott, and Peanut with Fluffy.

“Silence gives consent?” Mom was smiling. Noah instantly returned from his bitter thoughts into the real world, and he needed a couple of seconds to catch the topic of the conversation again.

“Yes, the boy,” he said, letting it slip.

“Oh, my God!” his mom flung up her hands. “Now, tell me, who is he, what’s his name, and where did you meet? It’s your first crush after Matthew, isn’t it? I thought that you would never forget that slob!”

Noah winced after hearing about his ex.

“I wanna know everything!” his mother stated, not noticing the change in his son’s mood.

Noah started frantically going through the guys that he could tell her about. Scott didn’t work; mom would recognize him from a description. The guy from his literature class? Noah still couldn’t remember his name, even though he seemed cute. There were guys from the sports department. Any pumped guy would suit perfectly for the role of an imaginary crush, but then he suddenly slipped.

“Ethan. His name’s Ethan,” Noah blurted it out and got embarrassed for some reason. Like he had actually told his mom a secret. “We met at the party. He was quite…m-m-m…interesting."

“His eyes?”

“Gray.”

“His hair?”

“Light-brown.” 

“His height?”

This kind of interview wasn’t new for Noah. His mother could get really nosey sometimes. If he was interested in someone, she usually wanted to know about them even more than Noah. Considering the fact that Noah almost ‘went into a convent’, he forgot how they used to gossip about all of his potential boyfriends with his mom over a cup of hot cocoa in the evening. He used to even deny, ‘No, he’s way out of my league!’ And his mom would object, ‘No, you’re out of his league! He’s gonna pass out when he finds out that you like him!’ But the guys usually blew Morgan off after he would tell about his feelings. And nobody passed out. After that, his mom would usually say that these fools weren’t worth her precious son.

Anyway, now it seemed so far away, almost unreal. The evenings like those warmed Noah’s soul way before college, Matthew, and nasty rumors.

“Five feet. And three inches,” mumbled Noah, scratching the tip of his nose.

“My goodness, darling, I’ve always thought that you prefer"—she paused—"tops." Noah had just sipped some milk, so he choked on his beverage, and milk ran through his nose.

“Mother!” Noah sounded embarrassed. “First of all, it’s none of your business! And, secondly, roles in a sex aren't being distributed on a height-basis!” he grunted.

“But it’s not convenient!” his mom continued, poker-faced. “I’ve always preferred guys who were at least a half-head taller than me,” she said with a thoughtful air. “I felt safe with them."

“Sure,” Noah didn’t want to waste time on some fight. Even on this kind of stupid fight. Especially on the stupid one. “Anyways, I don’t feel like discussing gay sex with my mother!” he said, making a helpless gesture. “It’s just a crush. We’re not a couple. And we will never be one."

“Come on, darling, don’t underestimate yourself.”

“It’s not that,” Noah waved off.

“Is he straight?” his mom covered her mouth horrified, like the word 'straight' sounded the same as ‘cannibal’.

“To be honest, I have no idea. Let’s change the subject,” Noah asked, giving the side eye to his watch. He didn’t have to leave the house for another ten minutes. Noah could lie and say that he had to go now, but he didn’t like lying in general, and this small and pointless lie almost felt like the first step on the bridge leading to Hell.

“Goodness, I almost forgot to tell you!” she flung up her hands. “I found out all the information about transferring from the University of California to the University of New York. It’s not easy, of course, but not as difficult as I thought! So, once you’re ready…” 

His dad got a raise a year ago, and they moved away. Parents were trying to persuade Noah to go with them, which was the best decision for him at that time, considering his problems at university. But he refused.

“We’ve already talked about this,” Noah frowned. They’ve talked about it multiple times! “I’m not leaving grandma!"

“Sweety…”

“I’m serious, mom. I’m not leaving anywhere.”

“I’m so proud that I’ve raised such a great son,” his mom sighed, “But, darling, you need to understand that grandma doesn’t care whether you’re with her or not."

“It’s not true!” Noah argued passionately.

“Son, do you remember the last time she recognized you?” the woman asked sharply.

Noah has opened his mouth to object and then immediately closed it, understanding that it didn’t happen this year. Not even the last.

“I know you love your grandmother. We all do. But I don’t want you to go through these adult problems while you’re so young. You need to think about boys, go to parties, go on dates, and go to concerts, and not waste your weekends on…”

“Mother!” Noah interrupted her, “I’m not leaving anywhere,” he articulated clearly. “Sorry, but I gotta go now.”

“Okay, darling. Love you! And remember, Jesus is watching you.”

“I hope not.”

****

Noah had a chance to meet Andrea and Scott only during the lunch break. As soon as he entered the cafeteria, he could see a bush of hair waving at him. After that, he got excited to come to the cafeteria at such a great time, when there were almost no people in line, he bought seven buns, some awful coffee, and moved slowly to his friends.

“Look who has ruined my appetite just by coming in here,” he heard from the side.

‘The waves are rolling out to sea.’

Noah turned around and looked at the person. He didn’t know the guy, which wasn’t surprising at all. Noah had understood a while ago that strangers could hate even more than people he knew. They just needed to break free from the negativity, and Noah seemed to be a great container for that.

“Forgot something, syph? Don’t breathe on me, okay? I don’t wanna catch anything from you,” the stranger stated, and his friend sitting next to him chuckled quietly.

‘The sea is rough — one.’

Noah couldn’t understand why this was funny. He could be insulted in a much finer way. Sometimes Noah thought about whether he should write a study guide on how to humiliate a human’s dignity. The guy talking to Noah didn’t seem a pro in that. Morgan wouldn’t be surprised if the stranger opened his mouth just to impress someone.

‘Devil’s Eye’ moved slowly across the guy’s face. Then to his neck and arms. Then it stopped on the waste.

‘The sea is rough — two.’

“Syphilis doesn’t spread by droplets. Even if I was sick, I could breathe next to you as much as I wanted, and you would be okay. Unfortunately,” Noah broke into a smile. “And, by the way, syphilis doesn’t mean it can’t be cured, unlike the lack of intelligence."

“Screw you, you dumb ass fag!” the guy grunted, which made the other guy smirk again.

‘The sea is rough — three.’  

Yeah, he shouldn’t be talking like that, considering the skeleton he hides in his closet.

Noah started moving towards the guy, and he, thinking that his opponent was looking for a fight, jumped up from his chair and straightened his back, demonstrating his height supremacy. And showing off his broad shoulders. His pose was almost screaming, ‘Try punching me! You’ll regret it!’

“You need to be a suicider to—"

“You need to be an idiot to pretend to be a homophobe while being gay,” Noah whispered, cutting off that awkward phrase.

The guy shrugged and turned white, like a piece of chalk. What, was it frightening to understand that your secret could become the public fare? Noah could say it louder. People wouldn’t believe him. Not everyone. But rumors would start spreading from one student to another, from class to class, from chat to chat. Noah believed that the only person who could talk about their preferences was the person themselves. Even if that person was such a jerk like that guy who was trying to act like an ass to impress the guy he was terribly in love with.

“If you continue doing that, you will be jacking off to him until the Second Coming,” Noah noted, and, not waiting for the answer, he turned away and continued walking to his friends. To be honest, the poor guy would probably jack off anyway, since the other guy was one hundred percent straight.

“What did he say?” Noah heard behind his back. It was probably 'one hundred percent straight’ speaking.

“That I’m his type, and he’s gonna blow me for half the price. I was even turned away by his words."

Noah wasn’t surprised, but his mood was ruined anyway.

“Oh, God, there’re just more and more buns every time!” Andrea flung her arms in righteous anger.

“But I bought some for you as well,” Noah tried to defend himself.

“I'm on a diet!” Andrea noted immediately.

“And I have gastritis,” Scott reminded him.

“Oh, no, now I need to eat everything by myself,” Noah sighed theatrically and immediately started enjoying the first bun.

“How can you finish all that?” Andrea mumbled, eating her baby carrots with no appetite. She had always tried to assure everyone that she loved carrots. But, clearly, not for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Noah had already cramped his mouth, so he decided not to answer. He didn’t know what to say anyway. Noah always had a good appetite. Since his childhood, his granny had been stuffing him with some goodies as soon as he would enter her house. That’s why Noah was considered chubby until his fifteenth birthday. Then there was a sudden growth spurt. Noah lost weight rapidly and grew up. So now he was the opposite: no matter how much food he would eat, he would remain thin as a rail.

“By the way, we have a gig this Friday!” the friend notified Noah.

“So soon?” he asked, surprised. Classes started just a week ago. So did the rehearsals, because members of Andrea’s band were going away to their hometowns for a summer break.

“Why not?” she shrugged her shoulders, “The manager of ‘I want you deadly’ has contacted us himself, can you imagine that?!”

“They’re not doing well, I suppose,” Noah laughed.

‘I want you deadly’, despite the wild name, was quite a small location, with a small menu and even a smaller number of regulars. But especially because of that, Andrea had a chance to perform on their tiny stage with her band. Any other place would reject them after hearing a couple of seconds of their demo. Even for free. Andrea and her band didn’t sound really harmonious, but Noah liked it. He admired his friend, looking at how her fingers were dancing over a keyboard. He also watched Scott fascinatingly play his bass guitar. He bounced his head to the beat of their drummer. The only person Noah didn’t like was Steve, their front man. He was a creep. He seemed picky and demanding, with some sort of imaginary crown on his head. He sang well, of course, but... there was no soul. But surely there was something stinky about him.

“I thought the same,” Andrea nodded with no offense. She always considered the level of her band impartially: "Although I still hope that..." the girl suddenly stopped staring at something or someone behind Noah’s back. He turned around and also froze for a moment. He lost his breath, and his pulse suddenly went higher.

“What’s he doing here?” Andrea mumbled with interest. There was Ethan Thomson sitting on the opposite side of the cafeteria. Despite the crowd, he was sitting alone at his table, and nobody seemed to risk it.

Noah turned back again to his friends, feeling his cheeks turning red, even though Ethan didn’t even glance at him. Thomson was way more interested in what was happening on his phone than in the people around him.

“Do you know him?” Noah asked carefully, trying to hide the confusion from his friends.

“After the fight at Hughes’ party, everybody who was there knows him,” Scott shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh yeah, he was pulled to pieces,” Andrea confirmed.

“And what were they saying?” Noah asked, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“That he’s weird ,” Scott said, making a ‘cuckoo’ sign.

“And that his sister is doing drugs,” Andrea added.

‘Aah, that’s why...'

“But those are just rumors,” Noah pointed out angrily, being that same exact person to show the example that sometimes people tend to picture others the way they want, not the way they actually are.

“We get that,” Andrea assured Noah, “We’re just giving clear answers to the clear-cut question. I, personally, don’t care whether Audrey was doing drugs or not. It’s her life, and it doesn’t concern me,” she waved off her hand.

“But Ethan is weird,” Scott mumbled in response, “Always wearing those medical masks. What if he’s sick? Tuberculosis. Or even AIDS."

“Don’t you dare to assume something like that,” Noah snapped surprisingly angrily, “He doesn’t have any illnesses,” Noah said eagerly.

“And how do you know?” Scott asked mischievously.

Noah and Ethan were let out of the winter garden only at the end of the party in the early morning. Noah was aware that if Andrea found out that he was locked somewhere, she would start such a scandal that even Ethan would get jealous. Noah didn’t want any of that, so he texted his friends that he had already left while actually sitting in silent company watching the stars.

“He has taken his mask off in front of me,” he responded, completely failing to remember that he hadn’t told them the truth, even though he planned to the next morning.

“And when did that happen?” Scott narrowed his eyes, and Noah felt for a second that there was the same thing in his eyes that Morgan’s haters had when they were about to trash him again. And then he remembered how he had burst into tears on a friend's shoulder a couple of times before and how Scott was awkwardly trying to cheer him up a little. Yes, Noah was wrong. Scott was just teasing him, and Noah was taking his words way too seriously due to his anxiety and big trust issues.

“At the party,” Noah mumbled, and then he briefly told his friends what had happened. Andrea was furious. Scott just looked surprised.

“I’m gonna choke Hughes as soon as I see him!” his girlfriend promised.

“Please, let’s keep it with no killings,” Noah begged, “That’s why I didn’t tell you anything back then.”

“You’re too kind!” Andrea stated it tartly.

“I just don’t want my problems to be yours also.”

“These are ours anyways! We’re your friends, Noah! We can’t ignore the way people treat you!”

“So, you’ve seen Ethan without a mask?” Scott immediately changed the subject, since he knew how furious Andrea could become in such moments. With that attitude, she could’ve easily inspired a multi-million-person army to conquer a nearby planet. Or she could’ve summoned the demons from the bottomless pit. Once Andrea winds up, nothing can stop her. Thankfully, Scott had put down a fire of justice just in time.

“Yes, I have,” Noah confirmed, even though he decided not to specify that Ethan didn’t let him come too close. And that was indeed…weirdish. 

“And how was it?” Andrea immediately switched from the role of the warrior into the role of the matchmaker. If Noah was around some guy for longer than two seconds, Andrea would graciously put him on the list of potential Morgan’s boyfriends. “How does he look with no mask?”

“Quite handsome,” Noah mumbled, hiding his scarlet face in his palms.

“Oh, even qu-i-i-te handsome?” Scott stretched his question, trying to become matchmaker number two.

“Damn, it wasn’t something I wished for you,” Andrea shook her head, looking just like someone’s mom.

“What do you mean?” Noah didn’t get it.

“Do you remember what I said at the party? Tall and handsome! Ethan is almost a head shorter than you. He’s almost a dwarf,” she stated. Noah even clenched his teeth in anger.

“Not a head shorter; he’s only a half-head shorter. And, by the way, he’s taller than my mom,” he exhaled, leaving out the fact that he was only half an inch taller. “Do you think my mom is a dwarf, too?”

“Oh,” Andrea got confused, “but it’s not the same!”

Noah just grunted skeptically. Anyway, even if Ethan was a dwarf, what’s wrong with that? It’s only Noah’s business who to fall in love with!

Wait a second. To fall in love?

“FYI, I don’t mind dwarfs at all. I would easily hook up with Peter Dinklage! He’s sexy!” she stated, which made Scott frown like he usually did when Andrea would talk about guys who were sexy. “I’m sorry, but it’s just too difficult for me to imagine you and Ethan in bed. It seems…awkward.”

"Oh, my dear Lord! As if you colluded... Is this day cursed or something?! I would be really grateful if you stopped trying to picture me in bed with anyone!” Noah groaned. 

“But I’m serious!” Andrea just didn’t seem to stop, “You were always nuts about tall, pumped machos full of testosterone! I know that because we have the same taste. But Ethan…”

“Let’s talk about something else,” Noah asked, stuffing another bun into his mouth and looking like a chipping squirrel with a stash of nuts in its mouth.

“I agree,” Scott said, supporting Noah.

“But it’s an important question,” Andrea didn’t want to change the subject, “Because we all know that you’re a bottom!”

Noah choked on a bun and was trying to clear his throat for over a minute, then catch his breath again. He wanted to say that this fact hadn’t been proven yet, but... In his sexual fantasies, he did prefer picturing himself as a bottom. He didn’t know why. But now he knew that he should be careful with the amount of alcohol he drank, not only at the parties but also with his friends. Because that was exactly how Andrea fished for this intimate information.

“Do we really have to discuss it, like Ethan and I are about to start dating?” Noah got angry, “We didn't even exchange numbers. And we’ve never talked since! And I… I don’t feel anything towards him. I just said that he’s objectively handsome! An objectively handsome guy who doesn’t remember me, I’m 100% sure.”

“Doesn’t remember you, you’re saying,” Andrea scratched her chin, “So, you’re positive that a future lawyer who’s studying on the other side of campus, where they have their own cafeteria, is out of the blue sitting here, in the art critics’ block? Absolutely not on purpose ?” his girlfriend asked.

“Yes, I’m positive. Ethan’s visit here doesn’t have to do anything with me,” Noah frowned, frustrated that he couldn’t let himself even dream of something like this. “He was probably just passing by."

“Hah, have you heard him?” Andrea laughed, pointing her finger at Noah.

“Holy fool,” Scott agreed with a smile.

“Let’s leave Ethan alone and return to your gig at ‘I want you deadly’, shall we?” Noah asked with a sigh.

“Oh!” Andrea shook up, “You should invite Ethan to our gig!” she screamed, fully excited about this idea.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s gonna be so sick !” she assured Noah.

“Firstly, as I’ve already said, we’re not talking. Secondly, how is it gonna be sick if everybody thinks he’s weird?” Noah made a helpless gesture.

“If everybody thinks he’s weird, it doesn’t mean that nobody thinks he’s interesting,” Andrea said. “There’s something about him that makes us wanna know more about him. Trust me, he’s quite a character.”

“If he’s quite a character, why have I never heard anything about him before?” Noah was surprised.

“Well, he’s from another university department,” Andrea waved that comment aside. “And he’s not a master of communication, as you might’ve noticed. On the contrary, he’s super passive and aggressive; that’s why people gossip about him quietly, always checking on the surroundings,” she added, moving her head demonstratively. “Go there and say hi. Now!” she demanded. “And casually invite him to our concert.”

“I don’t want to,” Noah frowned in despair, “He’s gonna say no.”

“If he says no, then he says no! Not a big deal!” Andrea shrugged her shoulders. “There’s no harm in trying!”

‘Oh, of course there’s harm in trying!’ Noah was desperate, leaving his seat. ‘Because I don’t want him to say no!’

Chapter Text

5' 3"

To Ethan’s surprise, Noah was indeed quite popular . Every person whom Ethan had asked about Morgan knew exactly who was the subject of the conversation. And then, like true experts, these people would sound like a broken record, telling over and over again about a thousand and a one dick that once had been in his mouth. When Ethan would ask them for some real evidence of his actions, besides dumb anonymous chat and endless rumors, everybody would get embarrassed and start saying a load of hooey. Despite them saying all this dumb stuff, Ethan managed to fish out some useful pieces of information. For instance, he found out that Noah was in his third year at the Art History and Criticism Department. or that he would always wear those weird kimono shirts. Or that he would buy an enormous amount of food for lunch and consume it with dangerous speed. ‘But really, he stuffs himself with all those buns like he’s training his throat or something. Have you seen that he’s as thin as a rail? With that appetite? Probably he burns a shit ton of calories from sucking all those dicks. Wait, why do you ask?’

Noah was being criticized and judged. People mocked him for everything, starting from his clothes and up to his food preferences. And every single thing, of course, was connected with his bad reputation. Apparently he had acne because of sperm (nonsense). His clothes were whore-ish (absolutely ordinary). He had a bad attitude (on the contrary, Morgan seemed to be a bit uptight and not really a self-confident guy). And he smelled because all of his men (last time they met, Noah smelled like lavender; Ethan liked it). Everything related to Noah was immediately rendered stupidly absolute, with a sexual undertone. Ethan understood two things. The first one: people didn’t judge Noah for his real action. People judged him because they just liked to judge. They liked to humiliate while remaining high and mighty. They were the jury of their imaginary court, hiding subjectivity and indulgence in their own egocentrism and so-called justice. And even the most genteel guys, from the beginning, turned out to be really talkative when they had a chance to share a couple of nasty stories about the guy they had never met before. The second one: Morgan was getting more and more interesting. If Ethan were him and had his ‘Devil’s Eye’, he would turn this university into hell. He would reveal all the nasty secrets; he would point out everyone’s imperfections. The best defense is a good offense.

Morgan was different from Ethan because his moral compass was facing the other direction, which Thomson had never chosen before. And it seemed nuts, but at the same time, it was...charming. Ethan had no idea that people like him still existed. The more Morgan was trashed, the more Ethan wanted to know him better and find out the truth.

It wasn’t difficult to find the cafeteria closest to the art critics’ block. Ethan didn’t mean anything bad. He just wanted to observe Morgan for a bit. Thomson didn’t plan to approach him or talk to him. He just wanted to see him and, if he got lucky, maybe hear him. Probably, if Ethan told anyone about this desire, he would be considered weird.

The only obstacle was that Ethan’s classes were in another building, and he couldn’t make it during lunch time. Only today he had some spare time in his schedule, which gave him the opportunity to make his dreams come true and ‘accidentally’ run into Noah.

While Ethan was going through campus, he was trying to convince himself to turn around and go back. Why would he pour salt on a wound? He knew quite well that there was no way they could develop some sort of relationship. He couldn’t let himself date anyone. Just be friends, then? The idea was barbaric in the first place. Ethan knew himself too well to understand: his interest didn’t mean friendship . It either expands and becomes something bigger and deeper, or it disappears completely. There could be nothing in between.

Ethan continued persuading himself, but he didn’t leave the art department anyway. There was a lot of noise in the cafeteria. Ethan chose a vending machine over a huge line for pastries, even though some passing girls said that the coffee ‘costs an arm and a leg’. Luckily, Ethan could afford all of that: an arm, a leg, and coffee. His dad made good money and never set limits for his son. Considering Ethan’s basic needs, the money that his dad would send him occasionally was just piling up.

Thomson got himself some black coffee and went to a free table. The cafeterias of art and related departments differed quite a lot from those where lawyers preferred to eat. They would be puffed up, engaging in furious debates over any possible reason. That’s why there was an impression that you were on some endless battlefield. Art people, on the contrary, had creative chaos in their cafeteria. Quite an intriguing atmosphere.

Ethan caught some surprised people watching him, but he didn’t pay attention to them. After he took his mask off and had a sip of scalding coffee, he started looking casually around, trying to spot Morgan. The interest in his boring persona suddenly went up after he took his mask off. How do people have so much spare time?

It was easy to spot Morgan. With a pile of buns in his hands. It seemed like he made small talk with some guy, probably a bully, and then sat down at his friends’ table with his back exposed to Ethan. A chubby girl with an unreal bush of hair was true expressiveness. A thin guy wearing glasses, sitting next to her, chorused her from time to time. It felt like Ethan had already seen them at the party. He was curious about what they were discussing so emotionally.

During their intriguing conversation, Morgan buried his hand in his thick hair and then messed it up, showing the shaved back of his head. Ethan looked at his hand unintentionally. His fingertips were slightly shaking. It happened because a sudden fantasy appeared in his head, where Ethan was the one who would touch Morgan’s hair, then grab it in a bun and pull fiercely, making him throw back his head. Ethan clicked his tongue irritatedly after this inappropriate fantasy. He should’ve gotten this picture out of his head immediately.

He shouldn’t have let himself watch Morgan so obviously, that’s why he scrolled his phone with no interest, but after he found nothing useful there, he just started staring at his half-finished coffee cup and spinning it around. He should’ve left the cafeteria, but he wasn’t ready for that. It was a pity, of course, that Ethan was sitting too far away; that’s why he couldn’t hear Morgan’s voice. On the other hand, the chance to meet Noah’s eye was definitely lower. The last thing he wanted was...

“Hey,” the universe decided to make a joke. Ethan looked up from the extremely interesting paper cup and then looked at the extremely interesting Morgan, who appeared right in front of him.

Thomson got lost for a second; that’s why the usual greeting got stuck in his throat. Morgan seemed a bit confused after not hearing ‘hello’ back.

“Maybe you don’t remember me…”

“I do,” Ethan dropped fast, trying to look as casual as he could.

“May I join?” Morgan asked modestly.

Ethan gestured to a chair in front of him while automatically putting his mask back on. Morgan sat at the table and, as he thought, looked around casually. Probably, he was trying to watch for possible haters. Ethan didn’t waste time on that. He just held his breath (Morgan was sitting too close, after all), then he pulled his mask back and sipped some coffee. He burned his lips; after that, he put his mask back on, fully satisfied, and exhaled.

“Dang, probably, that’s gonna sound weird from a person you know nothing about…”-Morgan rubbed his neck nervously-“Like there's... Well…”

Ethan cocked his left eyebrow, showing some scepsis.

“Hm-m-m-m… Do you like live music?” the guy finally asked.

“I like good singing,” Ethan answered calmly.

“Then I have an irresistible offer!” Morgan stated it a bit too emotionally.

“There are no such offers,” Ethan lied, while unintentionally browsing his sharp collarbones, visible even through a thin shirt. In reality, Morgan had no idea that he was actually on a small list of people who Ethan couldn’t even possibly turn down.

“So… You would refuse anything I’d suggest?” Noah grew weak. It was just too easy to read his emotions. He seemed confused and embarrassed. That night at Hughes', he tried to seem cool-headed, hiding vulnerability and confusion behind nonchalance. But then, in that conversation with Rufus, it was easy to spot expressive hopelessness through put-on cockiness in Noah's voice. Like he was pushed to the wall.

“No. I’m just saying that I can only refuse anything you’d suggest,” Ethan corrected him. “That’s my civil right.”

“Oh, those fine philological distinctions!" Morgan cheered up. “If I didn’t know that you’re a lawyer, I would've..." he stopped short, clearly thinking that he had put a foot in it. Ethan wasn’t bothered that Morgan found out something about his department. He was just a bit curious, whether it was unintentionally or purposefully. How fun would that be if it turned out that they had been deliberately asking about each other via third parties?

“Uh…” Morgan struggled to speak again, “I want you deadly!”

Now Ethan flicked both of his eyebrows with a questioning look. Noah was scarlet with shame and hid his face in his palms.

“God, I didn’t mean that,”-he moaned-“Actually…I didn’t mean it the way you might’ve thought!”

“And what did you mean? Something related to cannibalism?” Ethan suggested being purely calm. He was glad that mask hid a smile beaming on his lips the moment before.

Morgan turned even more red.

“N-n-n-o,” he forced out. “I mean the bar. It’s called ‘I want you deadly!’” Morgan explained. “Have you heard about it?”

Ethan shook his head. He wasn’t a bar person.

“The point is, my friends are performing there this Friday. And…hm…well…would be great if you joined!” he stated. 

A date? Morgan was asking Ethan out on a date? 

“Why would it be great?” Thomson chuckled while slightly rocking in his chair. That’s how he was trying to hide a slight shaking in his whole body.

“The more people, the better,” Morgan mumbled unpersuasively.

So, that wasn’t a date? What a pity. However, if that was it, Ethan would’ve had to refuse.

“Are there many people who usually come to your friends’ gigs?”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders ambiguously.

“Around ten.”

“Oh… Another listener—it's a strong contribution then,” Ethan stretched the phrase and knocked on the table with his index finger. “What time does the gig start?”

“At eight,” Morgan answered, clearly shocked. He probably didn’t think that Ethan would agree. Why did he come up to him in the first place and ask him out then? “Shall we exchange numbers so that we can get in touch the day before and agree about where we’ll meet? If you don’t mind my company, of course," Noah mumbled, scratching his nose in confusion.

He was, actually, the only reason why Ethan was coming.

“Why would I?” Thomson couldn’t help but tease Morgan with another provocative question.

“You can never tell,” Noah mumbled, not knowing where to hide from Ethan’s eye. Thomson gave Noah his phone number and then continued staring at his cup of already cold coffee, wondering whether he was walking on thin ice, playing with his feelings and his unachieved dreams. He was. He definitely was. And the ice was extremely thin.

“Damn, jackpot! Two freaks at the same table,” they heard a chuckle from a guy passing by. Ethan sighed and looked at him, moving away. He had never seen this person before.

“Who’s that?” he asked Noah while still looking at the stranger.

“I have no idea,” Morgan said, shrugging his shoulders in confusion.

“Hey, you,” Ethan called the guy who dropped that stupid phrase. Morgan shievered and tightened. “Did you say something? I didn’t catch it. Repeat,” Thomson said it loud enough to grab everyone’s attention. He had always done it. Speaking face-to-face usually makes people squirm or evade the consequences of the things they say. But if they were being watched by others, those idiots would start puffing up like peacocks. Well, at the beginning. 

“Let it go. There are a lot of jerks in our department,” Morgan mumbled while fidgeting with his phone.

Ethan decided not to break it to Noah that there were plenty of jerks in any university department. He was also mocked in the law department during the first month of his freshman year because of the mask and medical gloves. Though Ethan made it quite clear that it was more trouble than it was worth doing that.

“I can’t let go,” Ethan shook his head, looking at that tall guy approaching. Thomson preferred crushing any kind of negativity in the bud rather than ignoring it. And he crushed that negativity with even more negativity. This strategy never let him down.

“I said,” the stranger started when he approached Ethan and Morgan’s table and leaned his fists on the table, "That—"

Ethan didn’t listen. He grabbed his coffee cup and flung it in the guy's face. He jumped aside in shock. He looked at Ethan for a couple of seconds, then switched to his, sometime white and now covered in coffee stains, t-shirt.

“Are you fucking nuts?!” he yelled.

“No, you are nuts,” Ethan corrected him calmly.

“You wanna die, or something?”

That was an interesting proposal.

“Do you want to punch me?” Ethan asked innocently. “Go for it.”

“You’re gonna threaten me with legal action again, aren’t ya?” there was a mix of anger and doubt on the guy's face.

Ethan didn’t say anything about the court, but everybody knew well both about his university department and about his family. It was easy to suggest that Thomson would prefer to deal with any sort of conflict in a legal manner. As a matter of fact, Ethan always tried to have a plan B in case a bully tried to contact the authorities.

“I don't, and I won’t have a reason to threaten you with legal action. It’s gonna be your prerogative. That’s why I have to inform you that things won’t work out,” Ethan notified him. “Cameras are everywhere. Here”-he nodded toward a corner in the cafeteria-“there”-he pointed in the opposite direction-“and a couple at the back entrance. They will record that you attacked first, which means that all my following actions will be considered self-defense. Self-defense, of course, will be way too excessive. Taking into account our height differences and stereotypes related to them, the jury would justify me even if you remained disabled for life,” he explained. “And you will remain one, I can tell you that.”

“Fucking crazy,” the guy exhaled more frighteningly than aggressively. Then, he turned around and almost ran out of the cafeteria. Ethan twisted the empty cup in his hands. Morgan was staring at him.

“Wow, you’re so damn brave,” he exhaled admiringly, “I wouldn’t be able to do so.”

Ethan didn’t think he was brave. He could be afraid, just like any other person. Probably, even more often than the majority. He couldn’t stand fights. However, he knew a little too well that conflicts don’t just vanish. The more you try to escape or ignore them, the bigger the chance that you'll get into some bigger problems. People, like that guy who tried telling some shit to Ethan and Morgan out of boredom, needed excessive training.

“My behavior has nothing to do with bravery; it’s quite the opposite,” Ethan exhaled, “You’re way braver than me."

“Me?!” Morgan laughed heartily. “Come on! I’m a coward!"

“Did your ‘Devil’s Eye’ tell you something about that guy?”

“Well…” Morgan frowned, “There’s something…” 

“Like what?”

“Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

“Why would I have to do so?”

“But…” Morgan stiffened even more, “It’s personal.”

“So what?”

“You can’t do that.” Morgan mumbled.

“You wouldn’t worry that much at the party,” Ethan noticed.

“I know that it doesn’t excuse me, but I was... drunk. It won’t happen again,” Morgan mumbled.

“Why? Who you sleep with is also personal, and yet the whole university makes things up about it,” Ethan grunted. He knew it would offend Noah, but he supposed it could help reach out to him.

“I wouldn’t want to be one of those people ,” Morgan said, shaking his head. That wasn’t the reaction Ethan aimed for.

“Don’t be,” Ethan shrugged his shoulders, “I am one of those people . Tell me, and I got this.”

“Do you understand that this excuse would work in court?” Noah smiled shyly. That was neat. “And it also won’t work with my conscience either. By the way, you’re not one of those people ."

“What makes you think that?” Ethan frowned. 

“If you were one of them, you wouldn’t sit with me at the same table right now, wouldn’t agree to go to the gig, and definitely wouldn’t rebuke me for not defending myself,” Noah smiled.

Ethan frowned even more.

“I gotta go,” he nodded, stood up, and crushed the paper cup.

“I’ll text you on Thursday!” Morgan promised. 

‘Please send voice messages,’ Ethan thought, but couldn’t ask out loud.

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

Something, which Noah was terrified of, had finally happened: his doubtful reputation affected the other person (who wasn’t one of his close circle). A new bulletin appeared in TalkPanik anonymous chat on Thursday morning: ‘A hammerhead guy: is he a new client or a therapy buddy?’ Under the intriguing headline, there was a blurred picture from the cafeteria. Noah and Ethan were photographed sitting in front of each other. Morgan could be even more glad that they were together in this picture if the circumstances were different.

Noah was down in the dumps the whole day; he didn’t know whether he should apologize to Ethan, believe that they could continue their communication, or just pretend like they had never met. People do that all the time—they can become strangers in a split second. Considering that Ethan and Noah had met only twice, it was easy to wipe these blurred memories and reboot their relationship from the status of ‘acquaintances’ back to ‘the one doesn’t know that the other exists’. Well, Noah didn’t want things to end before they actually began.

Anyway, he had to text Ethan and clear up this point personally and not overthink things. Noah regretted that he didn’t give Ethan his own number in return for his. Then, Thomson would’ve probably either calmed him down with a simple message or he would’ve put the last nail in the coffin.

Noah had the guts to text Ethan only in the evening, after he had had dinner, and then cried for twenty minutes straight, covering his nose in Peanut’s fur. For some reason, he felt sad when thinking about the end of their relationship with Ethan. Noah had no idea what he wanted. He just wanted to chat with him for a little longer. Was it too much to ask?

Noah Morgan: ‘Hi. I know my message might seem inappropriate, but I couldn't help but ask about your plans for tomorrow.’

The message flew to its receiver, and Noah started nervously walking back and forth around his studio. Considering the small floor area, too many inhabitants and other stuff lived there. Some were Noah’s treasures, and others, like, for example, Fluffy and Peanut, he inherited from his grandma.

Ethan answered almost instantly.

Ethan Thomson: ‘Hi. Plans didn’t change. Why is it inappropriate?’

Noah frowned, trying to understand what was behind Ethan’s ‘plans didn’t change'—was it that he was still going to go to Andrea’s gig in ‘I want you deadly’, or was it that he had other plans in the first place, and they didn’t change?

Noah Morgan: ‘It’s inappropriate considering the position I’ve put you in. Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would turn out that way.'

Ethan Thomson: ‘What position did you put me in?’

Noah froze. Ethan didn’t know about the rumors. If it was that, should Noah be the person to tell him? Of course, he should. Sooner or later, Ethan would find out about everything. It would definitely be unfair to hide that.

Noah Morgan: ‘Don’t you follow the university’s anonymous chat?’ Noah finally decided to make sure.

Ethan Thomson: ‘I don’t. Why?'

Noah Morgan: ‘There’s a new rumor there, where you’re one of the main characters.’

Noah’s fingers were shaking while he was typing that message. He finished it, sent it, and then threw his phone away on the bed and stared into space. His apathy didn’t last long, though, right until the next notification sound.

Ethan Thomson: ‘What’s the deal about this rumor?’

Noah swallowed.

Noah Morgan: ‘It says that you bought me. Nothing new.’

Noah tried to write that message in a casual way, like it was cool for him and didn’t offend him at all.

Ethan Thomson: ‘Ha-ha. Cool. And they said, how much did it cost?’

Noah stared into the screen, trying to process his ‘Ha-ha.’ with the dot at the end. It didn’t sound fun. On the other hand, Morgan hoped that Ethan would get mad and text something like ‘I’m not gay!’ or ‘I don’t need to buy anyone to sleep with them!’ or something less disappointing. Noah didn’t expect to get ‘Ha-ha. Cool. And they said, how much did it cost?’ as the answer.

Noah Morgan: ‘There was no price tag. Probably for a large french-fries.’

Ethan Thomson: ‘Isn’t it a little too expensive?'

Noah Morgan: ‘I’m not cheap. You need to thank me for a discount; I didn’t ask for barbecue sauce.'

Ethan Thomson: ‘Ha-ha-ha. And what is the discount for?’

Noah Morgan: ‘For your beautiful eyes!’

Ethan Thomson: 'Finally, there’s some profit in my eyes. However, I have enough money to afford it. Hopefully, you’re sitting down because you’ll be blown away after I tell you that I can buy not one but two barbecue sauces.’

Noah couldn’t handle it, so he laughed out loud. Who could’ve thought that grumpy Ethan had a great sense of humor in his arsenal?

Noah Morgan: ‘Wow. Are you rich or smth?’

Ethan Thomson: ‘Noah Morgan isn’t cheap, so I need to dip into my pocket, right? I’m down for that.’

Noah laughed again at first, but then he got confused. It was a sore subject, but it wasn’t fun to laugh about it with Ethan. Morgan couldn’t tell why exactly, but, during their conversation, he suddenly got a feeling that he shouldn’t be bothered by that crap that’s been going on in that anonymous chat. He shouldn’t be bothered at all. But then he remembered the consequences.

Noah Morgan: ‘Let’s get serious. It's a dumb rumor, and you’re right. But it can screw up your reputation. The reputation’s everything for a lawyer, isn’t it? Am I right?’

Noah should’ve shut up and left the conversation on a funny note. But he was too worried about Ethan.

Ethan Thomson: ‘Knowledge, contacts, and personality are everything for a lawyer. I have plenty of all of that. The reputation in university costs nothing. These losers can think of anything they want. I’ll see them in court in ten years, and they won’t like it.'

He’s so confident about his future! Noah didn’t have much to boast of.

Ethan Thomson: ‘So, are we going to that bar with a weird name, or not?’

Noah smiled while getting unusually happy that Ethan didn’t care about these rumors and didn't start ignoring him.

Noah Morgan: ‘Sure! If you don’t mind!’

Ethan Thomson: ‘I don’t mind.’

Noah fell on his bed, threw his phone aside, and buried his nose in a pillow. He just couldn’t believe that everything was going so smoothly and easily. He needed a minute to calm down his frantic heartbeat. The person was casually talking to him, and he was ready to flip out.

When he turned back to his phone, it was already buried under Peanut’s furry belly. Noah had to put in some effort to take the phone out from underneath his grumpy cat, and he frowned out that the cat had already managed to send Ethan a message:

Noah Morgan: ‘hfpoig’

Ethan Thomson: ‘?’

Noah Morgan: ‘Sorry. That was my cat.'

Ethan Thomson: ‘Oh, do you have a pet?’

Noah swore off to stop showing pictures of his cats to other people. It was because Andrea thought he looked like a crazy cat lady when doing that. The problem was that Noah was indeed a crazy cat lady. That’s why he couldn’t resist and texted:

Noah Morgan: ‘Even better! I have two pets! Do you want me to show you the pictures?!’

‘Ethan doesn’t want to hear about your cats, idiot!’ Noah scolded himself.

Ethan Thomson: ‘Go ahead.’

‘He’s just being polite. Just send one picture and get over it!’

Ethan Thomson: ‘Wow, it’s so huge.’

Fluffy, that was the cat picture of which Noah had sent first, was indeed huge because of the thick fur. When he would walk around the flat, it looked like a huge black cloud of evil was flying around. Fluffy, unlike his name, had quite a character. You couldn’t pick him up whenever you wanted. If he didn’t like something, he would immediately push out his claws and bite. If he laid down on Noah’s lap, it was almost impossible to push him down because the cat was hissing and scratching Noah. Fluffy loved it when everyone played by his rules. You could pet him only if he wished so. Combing the mats out was... Every procedure felt like a nightmare, by the end of which Noah would gain more new scars and wounds.

Peanut, on the contrary, was the heart and the soul of the party. He loved attention and never refused pets from his owner, the delivery guy, his mailman, or the neighborhood kids. If Peanut could, he would lay on Noah day and night, completely unbothered. He wasn’t as furry as Fluffy, but he looked almost as huge because Grandma overfed him back in the day. Noah tried to put him on a diet, but the cat always found a way to get his treats, for example, by stealing a sausage from Noah’s plate or by tearing a grocery bag and biting on a fresh bread loaf.

Noah sent a picture of Peanut and begged himself to stop.

Ethan Thomson: ‘This one is definitely yours.’

Noah blinked in surprise. Peanut was around a year younger than Fluffy. Noah rescued him from the street when he was a kitten. Since his mother was against any domestic animals at home because she considered them a plague spot, he took him to his grandma. At first, Noah was trying to find a new home for Peanut, so a kitten was supposed to stay at his grandma’s for a little bit. But there were none wishing to take home a rootless kitten with a broken tail and a torn ear. Granny didn’t insist on taking the kitten away. She kept him.

Noah Morgan: ‘They’re both mine!’

Ethan Thomson: ‘People say that pets pick up owners’ character traits. The first one is definitely bad-tempered. He’s not yours.’

Noah Morgan: ‘Hey! Did you just call me spineless?’

Ethan Thomson: ‘No. I’ve just called you sweet.’

Noah shivered and dropped his phone. Luckily, on the bed. He swallowed before reading the next message.

Ethan Thomson: ‘The other one is definitely a rescue cat; he had had enough. It feels like he’s still not used to having a home; that’s why he’s so clingy. He probably even follows you when you go to the restroom.'

To the restroom. And to the shower.

Noah Morgan: ‘Do you think that I’ll follow anyone who treats me nice?’

Ethan Thomson: ‘No. I think that you’re underloved.’

While Noah was hypnotizing the phone screen and thinking about what he should say, Peanut climbed onto his stomach and stretched fully, almost completely covering the owner’s upper body.

Noah was deeply embarrassed by this conversation for some reason. He wasn’t tensed by this conversation; he was embarrassed or even confused. Ethan wasn’t flirting with him. There wasn’t any undertone, either. What the hell then?

Noah Morgan: ‘I will neither confirm nor deny what you said. I can tell you, though, what Peanut and I have in common.’

Ethan Thomson: ‘?’

Noah Morgan: ‘We both have a huge appetite, and we eat like crazy. There’s one difference, though: Peanut’s getting bigger, and I’m not! At least for now.’

Ethan didn’t say anything, but Noah neither wanted to end their conversation nor continue a casual chat about tomorrow’s event.

Noah Morgan: ‘Do you have any pets?’

Ethan Thomson: ‘My mom had a cat. It died, though.’

The conversation definitely didn’t go the way it should’ve.

Ethan Thomson: ‘What about tomorrow?’

Noah Morgan: ‘Well, the guys need to get ready before the gig, tune the instruments, and stuff. I was thinking of getting there by seven. You can also come at that time if you want!’

Ethan Thomson: ‘Ok.’

Noah Morgan: ‘And thank you.’

Ethan Thomson: ‘For what?’

Noah Morgan: ‘For not hammering me like the others.’

Ethan Thomson: ‘So, you’re thanking me for not being an idiot? You’re always welcome.'

Noah suddenly chuckled. He was getting more and more into Ethan.

5' 3"

“Wow, going out at night for the second time in one and a half weeks? Who are you, and where’s my son?!” Father laughed looking at how Ethan was putting on a dark-red and black hoodie. They bumped into each other in the kitchen. His father was getting ready for a late-night board of directors, and Ethan was hurrying to ‘I want you deadly’. Due to the coming event, the parent broke upon his son wearing a crisp white shirt, a tie, a Dolce & Gabbana suit jacket, and Calvin Klein underwear.

“I think you’re missing something, aren’t you?” Ethan asked, hinting at the trousers.

“The meeting is online. They’ll see me only at waist-high,” father said blithely.

“You still need some pants, though. There are tons of videos online where people who forget that they don’t have any pants on stand up and demonstrate their underwear. It’s the best-case scenario.”

“So, I have to put them on, right?” His father frowned.

“Exactly,” Ethan nodded.

His father sighed dramatically and sipped from his coffee mug.

“I’ll put them on if you tell me the name of the hero who’s taking you out tonight.”

“Well…”-Ethan shrugged his shoulders indefinitely-“Nothing special.”

“Only something really special can drag you out of the house in your free time due to no important reason,” father noticed and winked, “Or, actually, someone special.”

“No one dragged me to that party. I went there because of Audrey,” Ethan declared, taking the mug from his father’s hands, took his mask off, and took a sip.

“I’m still trying to reach her. Still no result,” Mr. Thomson sighed. Every time Audrey was the topic of the conversation, his positivity would immediately vanish.

Ethan and Audrey found out that they had different fathers only five years ago and were not in a proper environment. They had been sure before that Audrey took after their distant family. She was supposed to find out the truth on her twenty-first birthday, but some unexpected family emergencies revealed skeletons in the closet way earlier. Audrey took the news really hard against the background of a common grief.

Michael Thomson – Ethan’s father, met the future mother of his children when she was already four months pregnant. Audrey’s father was one of those guys who would go out to buy some cigarettes after getting the news of a pregnancy and then disappear. Michael didn’t care about that. He was Audrey’s father, according to the papers. He didn’t care about sharing mutual genes. Audrey had always been his sweet little daughter, even when she grew up. Unfortunately, one letter screwed up years-long family bonds. Audrey became really reserved and beat into her head that she wasn’t a part of the family. She should’ve been brought around and shown that she was loved. However, Ethan was a troublemaker at that time, so the father was deep into solving this problem. Michael couldn’t be in two places at the same time; he couldn’t grieve, solve problems with his son, and rethink his daughter’s life purpose all at the same time. Something would get lost in that equation sooner or later. It was Audrey. When Michael suddenly recollected everything, it was too late. She left their home, certain that she would never keep in touch, neither with her father nor with her brother. Ethan felt his guilt. Only if he hadn't...

But when it’s gone, it’s gone. And fixing it... Ethan tried his best, but nothing worked. Just when he found her new address, she would immediately move away. Just as he got her number, she would change it. Every conversation looked like the one at Hughes’ party. She didn’t want to listen.

“Yeah, me too,” Ethan nodded, “I don’t see her around the campus, and even her friends don’t know her address. Our last conversation ended with another fight.”

“God, I miss her so much,” Mr. Thomson sighed deeply.

Ethan felt sick in his stomach. At least he had the opportunity to see Audrey once in a while, while the last time his father had seen her in person was three years ago. And it was really upsetting.

“You’re right, there’s someone I like,” Ethan suddenly stated, changing the subject so fast it was crystal clear to anyone. Mr. Thomson pretended he hadn’t noticed that.

“I knew it!” he screamed in triumph.

“Once again, it’s nothing special. This interest is no different from the previous ones,” Ethan assured his father.

“And who’s the initiator of the meeting?” Mr. Thomson asked curiously.

“He is,” Ethan answered vaguely.

"Then it’s different!” the man returned. “Usually your objects of sympathy hide from you, not ask you out,” father noticed with a laugh. “Do you remember... how was it?" the man started clicking his fingers, trying to recall the name.

“Do you mean Greg?” Ethan guessed easily. It was the most pathetic love interest, which Mr. Thomson remembered annoyingly often.

“Yeah, that guy who came here and started complaining about you.”

“God, please, don’t start.”

“Mr. Thomson, please tell your son not to come to me anymore! He’s scaring me!” his father mimicked the high-pitched voice and then laughed. “Goodness, what did you find in this sissy?”

“His voice,” Ethan answered without missing a beat.

“The nineteen-year-old guy is almost 6' 2" and comes to your father complaining about you. Sorry, but I’m glad that things didn’t work out."

“Me too,” Ethan decided not to fight about it since he didn’t plan on doing anything serious. He fell for it only once and...took Greg’s arm into his and told about his feelings. That was, actually, everything he had done. He was still surprised that the guy had run to complain to his father. Was it really that frightening?

Ethan looked at his palm. Yes, it was definitely frightening. He would never make the same mistake again, and he would never touch anyone else. Neither he would talk about his feelings.

“I’m sorry that I scared Greg. I didn’t think that I could make such an impression. I’m weird, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not,”-his father said, shaking his head-“Your only imperfection, Ethan, is that you’re extremely rude. But you’ve got charisma! Even though you’re a bargee. You’re a charismatic bargee!"

“You’re telling me that only because you’re my father,” Ethan grunted.

“Not at all! But try to be softer with that guy you have a crush on, okay?”

“Don’t worry, this guy won’t come here and complain,” Ethan promised.

“Sure, he won’t,” Mr. Thomson said positively, “Because he’s someone special ,” he said and smirked.

“No, he’s not; he just won’t have a reason to complain. Stop mocking me,” Ethan frowned.

“I didn’t even think about it,” his father waved off, then looked at his watch. “Oh, shoot, the meeting’s in ten minutes, and I’m still not wearing pants!” he jumped from his spot and ran into his room, and Ethan started to get going.

He wasn’t lying and did hope that Noah would stop attracting him before the feelings got too big not to tell about them. However, the hope was fading fast.

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

Noah was really nervous, and he couldn’t tell what the reason was: his friends, who were about to perform for the first time after a long break, or Ethan, who agreed to join him. What if he doesn’t like it? What if he decides that he shouldn’t be here? What if he doesn’t come?

Because he was way too nervous, Noah was the first one to arrive at ‘I want you deadly!’, so he had to go around in circles for some time in front of the main door and smoke one after another. He did try to calm down, but he didn’t succeed. His heart was pounding like crazy; he even felt it in his head.

Ethan appeared exactly on time, the hour before the gig, just as they had agreed with Noah. Morgan ran his eyes over him unconsciously and sighed, taking the new cigarette out of the pack. He really wanted to write ‘horny’ on it, but he was too afraid that Ethan would notice it. So he smoked it just like that.

Noah had his reasons for thinking he was horny. Ethan looked as usual. He had his mask and fingerless gloves on, as usual. He had a big black and red hoodie on. And black and gray camouflage joggers. And some high boots with a thick sole. So, there was nothing going on with his looks for Noah to think about. Nothing! But then, again, he was! The band was also late, which left Noah alone with Ethan for way too long.

“They probably got stuck in traffic, or something,” Noah mumbled, being torn by emotions. On one hand, he was unbelievably happy that Ethan did show up; on the other hand, he had no idea what to do next. Ethan didn’t say anything, but it felt like the clouds were gathering around him. What if Noah said some nonsense and Ethan thought that he was an idiot?! “Do you mind if we don’t go inside for now and wait for the others at the front door? They might need help unloading the instruments."

Ethan just shrugged his shoulders like ‘I don’t care’. The next ten minutes Noah spent trying to come up with the topic for the discussion, but, finally, he gave up and showed Ethan his collection of pictures, where Peanut and Fluffy were wearing different costumes, that Morgan bought them online too often.

“...And here’s Peanut with Spider-Man socks on,” Noah commented on every picture while checking on Ethan whether he was bored or not.

“Socks for cats? Goodness,” Thomson exhaled, clearly smiling.

“You should’ve seen his face while I was trying to... Dang, I look like a town crazy, don’t I?” Noah caught himself being taken away because he was showing a third dozen photos of his cats. It was the smallest part of his gallery, but it was still too much for a nearly stranger.

“Not at all. You share the things you love. What’s wrong with that?” Ethan shrugged his shoulders. “The way society treats animals shows how mature and healthy it is.”

“Oh, does it mean I’m mature?” Noah was happy.

“As mature as it’s possible for a twenty-one-year-old,” Ethan chuckled.

The band was almost half an hour late. The guys didn’t just go out; they fell out of Andrea’s mom’s minivan, swearing back and forth at each other. Noah was sure that Steve, the lead singer, was the initiator of the fight, as usual. He sang well, but he was freaking out way better. He was always driving everyone nuts by giving uninvited advice before every performance. He, on the other hand, thought that this advice was very much needed.

“Your job is to sing. And not poke your nose into drums!” Pete snapped off, confirming Noah’s suspicions.

“What should I do if you keep losing the beat and confusing all of us?” Steve spread his hands.

“I messed up only once!” Pete yelled.

“Which is only the beginning! And you, Scott, you need to rehearse more. Every time you’re on stage, you look so tense, like you’re about to give birth or something.”

“Oh, look who’s fucking talking!”

“Oh my God, stop!” Andrea grunted. “I’ve been listening to your harping for the past forty minutes. We’re going to tune the instruments right now, or I’m getting into the car and leaving!” she stated. Considering her tone, she wasn’t just saying it; she actually meant it. She could really get in the car and leave.

Scott got embarrassed. He didn't like when Andrea was mad at him. Pete grunted something quietly. Steve only wrinkled his nose, but then noticed Noah and Ethan and let loose an unpleasant, feral grin.

“I heard you’ve been trying to focus on your health, haven’t you? How is it going? Feeling better now?” he mocked Noah and then looked at Ethan. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, extending his hand for a handshake. It was easy to tell by his behavior that he wanted to somehow benefit from Ethan. Steve was friends only with people he could get something useful from. He treated Andrea and other people from the band like his ‘backup dancers’. Andrea would’ve kicked him out a long time ago if there had been a person to replace Steve with.

“We haven’t,” Ethan affirmed, ignoring his extended hand.

“My name’s Steve,” the front man introduced himself awkwardly.

“Ethan.”

“What’s bringing you into my bar today, Ethan?” when Steve wanted it, he could act like the heart and soul of the party. But he was rather soulless.

Adding ‘my’ to everything was another of Steve’s nasty traits. According to him, the band was his (Andrea founded it, apparently). The places they visited were also his (in his dreams, maybe). Even the bubble-gum ice cream was his property; if someone ordered it, he had to listen to him say something like, ‘Oh, you ordered my ice cream? Good taste!’ It was even more frustrating than Steve’s mercantilism.

“I came here with him,” Ethan said, pointing at Noah.

“Blink if you’re standing hostage!” Steve joked and laughed at it himself. Noah’s mood was heading downhill fast. He couldn’t imagine that Steve would want to chat with Ethan and humiliate Noah in front of him.

“I doubt that I can be taken hostage,” Ethan said coldly.

“Of course not anymore! The older brother is here to protect you,” Steve assured Ethan, patting his shoulder. Probably it was another joke. If it was true, the joke wasn’t fun at all, at least because Thomson was the oldest one among the rest. Steve was definitely hinting at Ethan’s height and his helplessness because of it.

"Interesting. Will the older brother be able to sing with a broken jaw?” Ethan’s voice was metallic. He casually shook Steve’s hand off his shoulder.

“I’m joking…” the singer frowned, not used to this level of straightforwardness.

“Me too,” Ethan nodded. “Wasn’t it funny?” he exhaled, burning a hole in the guy.

Steve mumbled something and headed to the main entrance first.

“Wow, there’s finally a person in our group who can make Steve shut the hell up!” Andrea exclaimed in surprise.

“I’m not part of your group. I’m part of his group,” Ethan nodded at Noah. Considering his behavior, it seemed like he decided to count the rest as his enemies. Why, just in case? Why did he talk with Noah so…casually then?

“That’s even better! Thanks a lot!” Andrea hugged him, completely ignoring Ethan’s rudeness. Noah scolded himself for not warning his tactile friend about the completely non-tactile Ethan. Thomson tensed, but tried not to show that he wasn’t happy. Scott took a jealous look at Ethan, but then immediately looked away once their eyes met. Andrea continued chattering. She introduced Ethan to the other members of the band and then told everyone to go inside the bar.

Noah left Ethan at one of the closest tables near the stage and ran away to help Andrea. His main job was to argue Andrea out everytime she said something like, ‘I’m ugly!’, or ‘I’m fat!’.

“...You look stunning, you know! You’re gonna nail it! You will go there, perform like a goddess, and you’ll look like a goddess!"

“No, I’m…”

“Don’t say ‘no’! You’re a goddess!” Noah assured Andrea passionately, “Come on, repeat,” he demanded.

“I’m a goddess. I’m gonna nail it!” she exclaimed.

“Damn right!” Noah nodded.

“I told you the same thing like a minute ago,” Scott noticed, offended.

“You didn’t sound convincing,” Andrea waved off. “Okay, we start in ten minutes. Noah, you gotta go back to your table. I’ll be thankful if you and Ethan start kissing passionately when we sing, ‘Love is burning out my soul’!”

Noah choked on the air and made a ‘cuckoo’ sign. Andrea should control her fantasies. Ethan would definitely not agree to kiss. Unfortunately.

‘Congratulations, Noah! Ethan was right! You’re just like your cat, Peanut. Do yourself a favor, underloved; try to remember your pride and hold yourself when he goes to the restroom…’

5' 3"

After saying'sorry'' at least a thousand times, Morgan left to help his friend, leaving Thomson alone to explore this completely mediocre bar. Random chairs and tables. Random bar counter. Pathetic corner, where there was a ruined stage with a dull neon sign above it. Nothing special. Ethan went to the bar and ordered some iced coke. He would also order something for Noah with great pleasure, but he didn’t know what he’d prefer today. The bartender didn’t enjoy his order, which he made clear by his look. The service was neither five nor one star. Did the owner of this place really have no idea why this place wasn’t popular at all?

When Ethan came back with his cold beverage, he stared at the stage, looking at the guitarists. Noah mentioned his friends before, and he probably meant that loud girl and the anxious guy with glasses—those who were sitting with Morgan in the cafeteria. It didn’t go unnoticed for Ethan that other members of the band weren’t thrilled, to say the least, about Morgan coming there. It was even good for him. It meant he didn’t have to make nice with a group of strangers.

Besides Ethan, the band, Morgan, and the bartender, there were only ten more people at the bar. All of them were students. The majority probably didn’t even know about the gig since they were watching the band set up with true interest. Ethan looked at every person; there were no familiar faces, so he looked back at his frosty glass with coke. Anyway, Morgan was the only reason he came here in the first place. So he decided that Morgan would be the only subject of his interest tonight.

“I think we’ve got off the wrong foot,” Steve declared, running into Ethan’s personal space. He took the other chair. Morgan’s chair. Did he really consider himself immortal?

“You think so?” Ethan grunted skeptically, giving him a sullen look. He remembered his stupid phrase about ‘the older brother’ and shivered. He was just a conceited ass with zero brain cells. He should’ve thanked Morgan. If Noah wasn’t here as well, Ethan would definitely start a scandal and, if he got lucky, a fight.

“Maybe I was being facetious.”

“Maybe?” Ethan wasn’t used to hiding his hostility. He always thought that telling the truth—that the guy was an idiot—was a lot more honest.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, really,” Steve added quickly, “I just wanted to say that if you have any questions, you can always come up to me.”

“Why would I want to come to you if there’s Morgan?” Ethan didn’t want to temper justice with mercy.

“Speaking of Noah…” Steve suddenly became very serious, not noticing that Ethan got even more mad. Why the hell is he calling Morgan by his first name? He’s not his friend! “Let me give you some advice: stay away from him,” the singer stated pointedly.

Ethan clenched his teeth. Firstly, he hated uninvited advice. Secondly, he hated people who thought they had enough qualifications to give advice back and forth. Thirdly, Steve made it clear that he wasn’t really fond of Noah, and Ethan would pay a hundred bucks to prove that it was connected with rumors, not with real reasons. Why are there so many dumb people around?! 

“Why is that so?” he muttered, on the edge of showing violence.

“He has a bad reputation,” Steve explained, trying to look smart, “And he’s not from our league,” he said graciously.

“What league are you talking about?” it seemed like Steve had just dug himself a grave, which made Ethan truly happy. Come on, boy, tell Thomson something about the league. Sooo interesting.

“About social leagues Your dad’s Michael Thomson, right? He’s a law legend. The founder of the biggest law company in California!” Steve was acting like a true expert, even though he had probably googled it a couple of minutes ago back in the store room, which they got as their dressing room.

“Okay,” Ethan frowned, finally starting to understand why Steve was trying to establish contact with him. Thomson called people like him ‘social vultures’. Steve couldn’t care less about Ethan. What he cared about was his money and his family profile. Who wouldn’t want to have a rich friend who could help them establish useful connections? Unluckily for Steve, there was the other side of his position: while trying to reach inaccessible heights, he had to tolerate every crazy thing Thomson would do. And he loved doing crazy things.

“And who’re your parents?” Actually, Ethan wasn’t interested; he just asked to confirm his suspicions.

“Clark and Eleonore Miller. We have our own printing house. Have you heard of them?”

Ethan hadn't heard of them, which wasn’t good for Steve. Thomson didn’t believe in social classes. He hated this division. His dad hadn’t always had a mansion and a collection of Porsche cars. Ethan and Audrey’s childhood was in a small, one-story house, and their family had to pay a huge mortgage. And then the father’s career went up. Every new case brought not only money but also fame and acknowledgement. Ethan hadn’t noticed how their family became a part of upper-class society. Dinner parties, tumid auctions, and endless charitable events became routine. The last thing pissed Ethan off the most: why do people gather to drink some wine to life-music in order to donate money on some pens and notebooks for children from poor families? Can’t they just donate the money without all this wine, pathos, and obvious demonstration of their generosity?

There was only one advantage to all those dinner parties: Ethan knew all the families that were part of the city elite. And he didn’t recall Steve’s family ever being there. It didn’t mean that Steve was lying. Neither did it mean that his parents didn’t make good money. They were regular middle-class people, wishing to go up higher, not understanding how much shit this elite was hiding behind auctions and charity.

Steve wasn’t the first person who wanted to make friends with Ethan, hoping to rise at his expense; that’s why Thomson tried not to share too much about his family. However, if someone wanted, they could easily find all the information online.

“No, I don’t know them,” Ethan said coldly, “And I don’t think that Morgan is a bad company,” he emphasized.

“Don’t you know about the rumors?!” Steve acted like he was extremely worried. “God, you probably haven’t heard yet, and Morgan didn’t even bother to warn you, of course. He has always acted like that!” 

“Like what?” Ethan frowned. Apparently, Steve thought that he knew Noah well. He was wrong, of course.

“Careless. He doesn’t care about anything,” the singer shrugged his shoulders, “He doesn’t care about anything or anyone."

“That’s not true."

“How long have you known him? A few weeks? Trust me, he’ll show his true self,” Steve assured Ethan. “Or I’ll do it for him,” he pushed. “For example, has he ever told you that there are rumors of you being one of Morgan’s clients?” The guy lowered his tone, hoping for a stormy reaction from Ethan.

“Yes, he has,” Thomson proved, contrary to Steve’s expectation, “He also said that he would get it if I didn’t want to come to your gig with him,” he added, staring at the vocalist, “Do people behave like that if they don’t care about anything or anyone?"

“Well…Ugh…” Steve said, confused, “Are you…um…okay with that? Are you okay that people think that Morgan blows you?"

“It makes me mad,” Ethan answered and continued rapidly, after catching Steve’s triumph, “Why don't people think that I’m the one who sucks Morgan’s dick? Or is it so obvious that I can’t give a good blowjob? It’s offensive, you know.”

Steve stared at Ethan like he went nuts. Thomson was watching him think fast about how to deal with that situation and not get more negativity from the other person.

“I…I see what you mean. The rumor is indeed stupid!” Steve nodded after a short break. Aha, did he decide to turn the situation in his own favor?

“So, you’re one of those who don’t believe in rumors?” Ethan made sure, smiling unconsciously. He was slowly putting heat on Steve; the singer didn’t notice it.

“Of course, I don’t!” Steve said it passionately.

“However, the first thing you said when you met Noah was based on one of those rumors, am I right?” Ethan pointed.

“It was about Noah, not about you. Besides, I was… joking.”

“We’ve already understood that jokes are not your thing,” Thomson quipped and rejoiced, noticing that Steve frowned. Ethan was clearly making him mad. But he didn’t have the guts to speak back, scared to lose a chance to become ‘a friend’ of a useful person. “What would you do if the rumors were true? What if I really sleep with Noah?"

“Oh, God, don’t be silly. Why the hell would you need him?” Steve laughed tensely.

“How’s that so… He’s, by the way, quite handsome.”

Steve got confused.

“You don’t look like a person who needs to pay for sex,” the singer said reluctantly.

“You’re right. Maybe I don’t. Maybe he sleeps with me for free because he’s attracted to me? Or I can’t be attractive?” Ethan let himself chuckle.

“Ha-ha! Is it a test, yes? I get it,” Ethan didn’t dare imagine that Steve could understand. “Of course, you’d never be with Noah, at least because you’re out of his league!” these stupid leagues again. Are they in some game or something? “Besides, you’re not gay!”

“Why am I not gay?” Ethan was purely surprised.

“If you were, everyone would know it!"

Dumb ass.

“Why would anybody know whether I’m gay or not?”

Steve was silent.

“So, you’re gay, right?"

“I didn’t say that,” Ethan was clearly mocking Steve.

“Are you hinting at something? Or not?” the singer frowned.

“I am. But not on something you’re thinking about,” Ethan muttered, sliding his index finger on the edge of the glass, “When you hear rumors about Morgan, you think they’re true. But when you hear them about me, you think they’re nasty rumors. Why?”

“Because I know Morgan way too well!"

“You know nothing about him,” Ethan interrupted Steve, “Knowledge isn’t the reason here. You’re telling me, ‘Morgan is bad company. People gossip about him. Everybody thinks you’ve bought Morgan’. But… What does it have to do with Noah? Why do I have to be mad at him? He has done nothing bad to me. It’s way more logical to hate all the dumbasses who start those rumors and spread them like a plague, right? They’re the people who bully Morgan, right? The same people created the rumor about me, didn’t they? It means they are guilty. You all are guilty. And you, too. It’s not Noah’s fault. Of course, the rumors won’t cast a shadow on me. It’s not advantageous to bully me. It’s more trouble than it’s worth. What if I, a spoiled rich kid, born with a silver spoon shoved up my ass, let’s say, talked my daddy into buying some pathetic little print house of your parents? Or even better, sue it into the ground. Do you like it? It sounds legit, right?” Ethan stopped and, after understanding that Steve was too shocked to speak, continued, “Morgan is the whole other deal. He has no money, no coats, nothing, right? He’s the perfect victim. The great whipping boy. You bully him, just like everyone else. You like hurting him, and so does the rest of your herd. And, the shittiest thing is that deep down, you’re perfectly aware that Noah is being unfairly accused. But you’re unable to stop because you like torturing him, don’t you? It’s convenient to hide your inferiority by bullying the other person, right? Well, I’ve got some bad news for you—it doesn’t help. Because I see a moral moron in front of me, and only a circus is where you belong."

Steve stared at Ethan for a couple of seconds, completely stunned. He probably couldn’t believe that he had been told everything right in his face. Nowadays, people usually text these things on Twitter, better anonymously.

“You… you… Screw you!” he was rather shocked than angry.

“I’ve just come here. And I don’t plan to leave anywhere. Is there a problem with that?"

Steve couldn’t bear Ethan’s look, so he stood up from Morgan’s chair and went to the stage, still processing what he had heard. Ethan continued staring at his glass, watching water drops slide down, and he did it till Noah’s arrival.

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

Noah decided that there was no way he could continue sitting with Ethan without some beer support. That's why, before joining the guy, Morgan had bought not one, two, but three bottles of calming alcoholic elixir at the bar. Three portions should ease this tension. However, after paying the bill, Noah suddenly asked himself how sober Ethan would react to this arsenal. He probably wouldn't be happy about these bottles. Usually, people who don't drink alcohol, smoke, or, for example, don't eat meat do that sometimes. They blame people because they don't follow their role models. Of course, there are people who just worry about their health, animals, or ecology. The majority, though, worry only about themselves and have an unhealthy urge to emphasize their importance by voluntarily cutting off something. It was pissing Noah off. If you don't do something the majority does, it doesn't mean that you're somehow special. In reality, it should point out that you have your own values, interests, or priorities (underline what fits the best), which no one has to share with you.

Noah had nothing to worry about. Ethan didn’t say anything; moreover, it seemed like he hadn’t noticed all these bottles lining on the table. Instead, he was looking directly at Noah.

“While you were gone, I didn’t have the pleasure to talk with Steve,” Ethan said, “He joined himself,” he explained, noticing Noah's surprise. Morgan sighed and took a sip of his beer before answering.

“Hope he didn’t upset you.”

“He didn’t. But, I think, I’ve upset him,” Thomson said, continuing to look at Noah unwinkingly. Did it mean that he was worried about whether it was going to affect Morgan later?

“You did the right thing,” Noah nodded, “It’s good to remind Steve that he’s not the king of the world.” ‘Too bad I’m a chicken to put him in his place.’ “May I ask you what he wanted?”

“Steve told me, with true knighthood, that I needed to stay away from you. When I told him that it’s none of his business and I can decide myself who to talk to, he asked whether I’m okay and that half of the college’s sure that you suck my dick.”

Noah swallowed and took another sip. What’s Steve’s problem?

“And what did you say?” he mumbled huskily. Ethan shrugged his shoulders.

“I told him the truth.”

“And…Well… Ugh… And what’s the truth?”

Ethan remained calm as a sea.

"I'm only half-satisfied. Why are you the only one who apparently can suck dicks? Do I look like a person who can’t do a proper blowjob? Or do I seem way too egoistic and can’t satisfy my partner?"

It was hard to tell what threw Noah off his stride more: Ethan’s words or his offended look during that moment. He froze for a second and burst into laughter. Under Ethan’s frowny look, he was laughing for a couple of minutes straight, until his eyes started watering.

“God, Ethan, you’re something else!” he said, after laughing, “I’m amazed!"

“Why are you amazed?”

“Your sense of humor!"

“But I’m not joking. Is blowjob such a big thing?”

“I have no idea!” Noah exclaimed, still shaking from laughter.

“Oh…” Ethan kind of froze for a second and then looked the other way. He carefully took his mask down and sipped his coke, suddenly becoming interested in what was going on on the stage.

‘What’s up with him?’ Noah thought in surprise, and then he understood that he basically confessed that he was still a kissless virgin. Or, for example, that he was still not really experienced in sex, which also sounded ridiculous in the background of rumors around him. After feeling his face turn red, Noah finished his first bottle in a couple of gulps and opened the second one immediately. Why on Earth did he decide that three was going to be enough? It seemed now that even half of the whole bar wouldn’t be enough for Morgan to calm down his beating heart.

The instrument fuss on the stage continued for another twenty minutes. Ethan was silent. Noah was also silent, but he was desperately silent. He wanted to continue their conversation, but right when he was about to open his mouth, he remembered the nonsense he had said earlier. What if he said something stupid again?

When everything was ready, Steve came up to the microphone and announced ‘his’ music band. Taking into account Andrea’s expression on her face, it was clear that he would get into trouble after the gig.

Steve played act for some time to get the crowd into the mood, and he even tried chatting with one or two people from the audience. Nobody sounded pleased when answering. Usually the vocalist indulged in saying some taunt to Noah right from the stage, but today he wasn’t even looking at him. Apparently, Morgan was supposed to thank Ethan for that.

Finally, all Steve's forced conversations with bar visitors had ended, and the guys continued on with something they came here for in the first place. In the beginning, the band played a couple of cover songs that were in the top charts that spring (they didn’t have much time to learn any new songs), and then they started performing their own songs. And if they were super bad with covers, they were much more bearable playing their own songs. And Steve, despite being an ass, sang quite well.

“Why him?” Ethan asked at the moment when the band announced a small break. He had been keeping his eyes glued to the stage, not paying attention to his phone or even his coke. Noah decided that it was a good sign, and Ethan, hopefully, enjoyed it. Morgan, on the contrary, took to the bottle now and then. It was quite a challenge sharing a table with Thomson. That stupid heart just didn’t want to slow down, being on the edge of jumping out of Noah’s chest. Hormones were his enemy at twenty-one years old. Did he really need that little—just some chit-chatting and a couple of conversations—to actually fall in love?

Noah shook his head, trying to keep these annoying thoughts away.

“You were saying?” he asked again just in case, worried that he might have missed the question during the thinking process.

“Steve,” Ethan explained, “why is he a vocalist?”

“Because he sings well?” Noah mumbled, not sure, looking lonesome at empty beer bottles. He needed to go and grab another one, but when he was about to do that, Ethan started talking to him. Between another beer and Ethan, Noah chose Thomson, of course.

Ethan clearly wasn’t satisfied with the answer. It seemed that he meant something else.

“Why not you?” the next question occurred. Noah stared at Ethan like he was crazy.

“What does it have to do with me?” he was taken aback.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

Beer. He needed to get more, right now!

Noah heaved a sigh. Ethan had been making Noah way too many compliments, hadn’t he? Though he always told them like it was some basic truth and not an attempt to compliment Noah. However, Noah never lost an opportunity to turn scarlet and think about where he could hide his eyes.

“You’re not being serious, are you?” Noah mumbled, confused. “I have neither a sense of pitch nor a good voice. I just can’t sing.”

“Hm… You should try then. I’m sure you’re underestimating the potential of your vocal chords,” Ethan stated, looking back on the stage. "However," there was a quiet phrase, "Maybe you’ll find another use for them.”

Like what? Where else would you need vocal chords?

Noah took a second to think about whether he should thank Ethan for these words or pretend they meant nothing to him. After all, he gave up, forgot his stupid feeling, and left for another beer in silence. Noah hoped that by the time he came back, the band would continue their performance, but the break was going on forever. Apparently, the second guitarist was trying to fix a popped string. He just wanted them to start playing already, because it was getting impossible to sit with Ethan in silence, and Morgan had no idea what they could talk about now. At the moment, when he was almost all washed-up, the phone in his front pocket started buzzing. Noah sighed with relief unconsciously, hoping that it was Andrea texting or some of his groupmates, who could sometimes ask him to help with homework. But the hopes weren’t met. Noah took his phone out of his pocket, looked at the notification, and his heart skipped a beat. He had a lump in his throat. Why did this wonderful evening need to be screwed up?

“Is everything okay?” Ethan seemed not to be looking at Noah, but, however, he immediately noticed the change in his mood.

“Ugh…” Morgan bottomed up another beer and placed his phone in front of Ethan to look. There was a new message in the anonymous chat. With a picture. Noa and Ethan were easy to recognize in this blurred photo. They were standing at the main entrance of ‘I want you deadly!’ There was a capture saying:

‘Hot news! The new client was so pleased with Noah Morgan’s service that he decided to become a regular! Morgan has got some talent; that’s intriguing!'

"Hm," that was everything Ethan decided to say since he was never super emotional. “Does it mean that the person who posted it can still be here at the bar?” It was a rhetorical question, but Noah inhaled soundly and looked around just in case. The rest of the people had already read the message and were now glancing at them curiously from time to time. By the way, there were more people than usual, but it was hard to tell whether it was because of Ethan, like Andrea had said, or because of the rumors.

“Not necessarily,” Noah frowned, “Everybody knows that Andrea is performing with the band here tonight. She and the boys glued flyers to almost every single wall around campus. Maybe somebody suggested that you might show up, so he or she could come here just to take the picture."

“Interesting,” Ethan tapped his finger on the table and returned the phone to Morgan. “How thoroughly they’re dealing with it,” he mumbled, “But I just don’t get it; why do you follow this chat? You don’t like reading this crap, do you?"

“I don’t,” Noah confirmed, “but it’s better for me to know straight what jokes I should get ready for. Forewarned is forearmed.”

"It makes sense,” Ethan agreed. “How long has it been going?"

Noah frowned. Interesting. What would Thomson think after finding out how long this freak show had been going?

“It’s the third year now,” he said reluctantly, “I’m gonna go get another beer,” he said fast and stood up. He already knew the following question: ‘How did it start?’ And Noah didn’t want to talk about it at all.

Just a couple of minutes ago, Morgan craved to talk to Ethan. But now he hoped that Thomson would lose interest in this conversation by the time Noah came back. He was wrong.

“Have you ever had a thought about who could be responsible for this?” the first thing Ethan asked as soon as Noah returned.

At least, it was good that Thomson didn’t ask the question Noah absconded from. Ethan either understood that this topic was too sensitive for Noah or just simply didn’t care.

“Never. Trust me, I thought about it a thousand times,” Noah assured Ethan.

“I believe you,” Thomson nodded, “And what about your ‘Devil’s Eye’?”

“It doesn’t work when it’s about me. I notice other people’s imperfections and complicated relationships with each other. But when I’m involved, I just feel that everybody hates me and laughs at me,” Noah sighed and then immediately regretted it. That was a bad moment to open up. Come on, beer, nobody drank you for that!

“Not everybody,” Ethan disagreed. Noah didn’t understand whether he meant himself or Morgan’s close circle in general. He decided to thank him anyway.

“Thank you. I know.”

“We need to find the guilty person. Or people,” Ethan continued the conversation.

“I don’t think it’s possible.”

“Of course, it’s possible. Cats always come out of the bag. In this case, the process just needs to be speeded up."

“And what next?” Noah sounded tired, “What should I do next, hm? Should I ask them not to spread rumors about me anymore? We’ll just stir up a wasps’ nest. What if the situation only gets worse?"

“Are you afraid?” Ethan asked, his eyes glued to Noah.

“I am,” Morgan nodded, “Mocking and joking—it doesn’t feel nice, but... At least I don’t get beaten. Or worse,” he mumbled, “I know, I’m a coward, but I can’t do anything about it.”

“You’re not a coward,” Ethan shook his head, disagreeing.

“Still… I wish I could behave like you. Maybe nothing would’ve happened,” he mumbled.

“You do what you think is right for you. You don’t need to look up to anyone. Especially to me,” Ethan frowned, “I’m a horrible role model.”

‘I think you’re a great role model!’

Noah almost said it out loud but shut up in time.

“How can you do this? How can you be so brave?”

“I’m not brave; I’ve already told you that,” Ethan noticed, “But I can’t be weak if I want to be a good lawyer. I need to know how to start a conflict and how to finish it.”

“What if… What if you get attacked?”

“My job is to behave the way it will be too scary to attack me,” Ehan said completely unbothered, “And if I don’t succeed... Well… That’s also a valuable experience. I can’t remain silent due to the fear of being attacked. Guess, how often are good lawyers blackmailed?”

“Wh..what? Do lawyers get blackmailed?”

“All the time.”

“That’s horrible!”

“And they get killed, too.”

“THAT’S SO HORRIBLE!”

“And so are the judges.”

“Jesus Christ! Are you sure you don’t want to change your field of study while you still can?”

“That’s the thing. I’m sure. That’s something I want to dedicate my life to. I’m not going to abandon my goals, no matter what,” Ethan stated confidently. “So now tell me, how was I supposed to be able to work on some difficult cases if I couldn’t spit in some pathetic student’s face?”

“Ehm… But… But there are so many of them, and you’re by yourself,” Noah was almost whispering.

“Yes. And that’s how it’s going to be. There are always many of them, Noah. And we’re always by ourselves. Things aren’t going to be any better in court. I can end up surrounded by ten lawyer sharks with threatening letters in their pockets,” Ethan parried his statement, “But you always need to remember, there’s always a leader in any gang. Take him down, and all of his disciples will get lost. Speaking of your case, the leader is the one who posts in this chat. It depends on him whether the situation escalates or not. That’s why I’m saying that he or they need to be found. And no, after finding the guilty ones, we won’t ask them to stop writing shit about you. We’ll collect evidence for a case, and we’ll take it to the court."

Ethan was so serious, saying that Noah laughed again unconsciously.

“What’s so funny again?"

“Your looks! Like you’re really going to file with the court!” Maybe it was beer, or gratitude, or frayed nerves, but Noah was laughing heartily for almost a minute.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ethan frowned after Morgan calmed down.

“Trust me, it’s not that I’m trying to underestimate you or anything, but it won’t work out,” Noah waved off, “Nobody cares!”

“I do,” Ethan pulled his mask off again to take another sip, and Morgan noticed a smile beaming on his lips. He wanted to ask:

‘Why?’

‘Why do you care, Ethan? We’re not even friends.’

But, as usual, Noah didn’t dare to ask, so instead he said:

“Don’t these rumors bother you?” Noah twisted the phone in his hands.

“I don’t care what the rest think. People tend to get really stupid as soon as they become a part of a herd,” Ethan said coldly, “If you think logically, who cares who’s sleeping with who? It’s not their fucking business. Why would they stick their noses into other people’s affairs? It’s disgusting. It’s like peeking at a person who’s taking a shower. Or like stealing someone’s underwear."

“Do you consign gossipers to perverts?” Noah was surprised.

“Don’t you think that being interested in another person’s private life is just an abomination? If someone peeks at you through the window, he’ll be called a voyeur. If someone talks behind your back and describes in detail how and who you are sleeping with, who’s he then? Why is it abnormal and disgusting to be an underwear thief, but completely fine to be a moron?"

“Because there aren’t many thieves, but there are a shit ton of morons,” Noah was getting boozed from beer, so his mood suddenly jumped really high. He shouldn’t have drunk that fast. And on an empty stomach. It wasn't the first time he had come to this conclusion. But Noah just couldn’t learn his lesson.

“Exactly,” Ethan agreed, “the majority is always right. Democracy at its finest. Everybody loves it until they get the death penalty.”

“Oh my God, are you against democracy?!” Noah exclaimed and then laughed again.

“In order to become a judge, you must have a perfect service record, work experience in attorneyship and prosecution service, plus a great reputation. Then you have the opportunity to be chosen by the citizens for ten years. Right?"

“I suppose,” Noah shrugged his shoulders. He was never interested in that.

“Then why does every second person claim himself a judge and criticize everyone without regard, evidence, not listening to both sides, not even trying to think ?”  

“Freedom of speech,” Noah sighed.

“No,” Ethan opposed, "the freedom of humans' ignorance.”

Andrea came up to the microphone and apologized for the delay. Then Steve took her place. The bar was again filled with music. Noah finished his beer and decided to get another one, but he didn’t dare stand up in the middle of the song. He should wait for the end of the performance.

“And what if I really go to court, will you defend me?” Noah asked jokingly.

“I thought you wouldn’t ask.”

5' 3"

It seemed that Morgan had a bit too much. Or maybe he didn’t expect that he could get drunk so fast.

The gig was slowly coming to an end. Judging by the time, there was one, maybe two, songs left when Morgan couldn’t wait any longer and ran to the bar after sadly hypnotizing his empty beer bottles. Ethan kept his eyes glued to him. Noah had a small talk with the bartender while he was opening his beer, but then he received something else with it. A card. Well.

Ethan squeezed his empty glass so hard that it cracked and basically fell to pieces in his hand. Also, Thomson noticed a couple of suspicious people on the right side of Noah. They were students. One poked the other in the ribs, pointed at Morgan, and they started whispering about something.

Ethan stood up, still holding pieces of broken glass in his fist.

One of the guys nodded at the other and, when Morgan was passing them with his beer, smacked him on the back. Noah was so surprised that he jumped up and spilled some beer onto his shirt. Ethan made a move toward them. The guys shouted something after Morgan, but Thomson didn’t hear anything because of the music. Noah turned around and was about to say something back, but Ethan came up first. Standing between Noah and the guys, he eyed them from head to toe.

“Oh, look who’s here,” said the one closer to Ethan. “So, does he really give you a good head?"

“Open your mouth,” Ethan said calmly.

“What?"

“I said, open your mouth,” he said and opened his palm, full of shatters, “I’m going to shove some glass in your fucking throat.”

The guy was taken aback. His friend recoiled unintentionally.

“Are you nuts?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re fucked up,” the other snorted, and then they crawled off their seats and moved back from Noah and Ethan.

“It was... terrifying,” Morgan said with a drunken smile on his lips. “You’re just like some mafioso from the old movies!"

“Wasn’t what they were saying also terrifying?” Ethan asked, “Do you understand that their behavior can be considered sexual assault?”

Noah just shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s okay. It’s not for the first time,” he waved off.

“So it’s not for the fucking first time?!” Ethan clasped the hand with shatters so hard they broke through his gloves and stuck into his skin. Noah shivered. The smile faded from his face.

“Ethan, everything’s fine, really,” he assured Thomson, “To be honest, they rarely…touch me. Usually everything ends with jokes."

“You wanted to say ‘humiliation’, didn’t you?” Ethan snorted, “Even if they don’t touch, what does it change? Psychological harassment… Is still harassment. Why do people in our progressive society hate those who can hurt their loved ones but don’t give a damn about those who talk shit about everyone around them? People don’t judge others for the shit inside them, low self-esteem, or emotional lameness. Is it fair?” Ethan frowned, “And, for God’s sake, we’ve met three times, and all of the times someone would find fault with you. Do you have to tolerate it every day with no weekends and lunch breaks?"

“Well…yeah,” Noah mumbled, “Shall we go back to our table? What if they decide to come back?”

“I’ll be more than happy.”

“What if they attack you? Ethan, please, let’s go.”

“I can handle them.”

“What if they don’t come back alone?”

“I’ve got a knife for that.”

“What?” Noah was shocked.

“What?” Ethan asked back. “The most important thing is not to hit vital organs and arteries in order not to injure the person too much or even accidentally kill them. Then you’ve got a chance to bluff your way out. And I’m pretty good at humans' anatomy.”

Noah blinked and sipped some beer.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve had enough today,” Ethan said, fishing the bottle out of Morgan’s hands.

Noah was confused at first, but then awkwardly tried to get his beer back, though it didn’t work out.

“I mean it, you’ve had enough,” Ethan repeated. Morgan sighed and accepted the situation. Probably, he understood himself that he had had too much, but he just couldn’t continue taking one gulp after another, trying to hide his frightness behind a drunken smile. Ethan put the half-finished bottle on the table and discharged the remaining shatters in it.

“...And it was our last song for today! Thanks to everyone who came here today! We’ll be waiting for you in two weeks, at the same time and place!” Steve announced. All he received as the answer was a light applause. Morgan was the one clapping the most.

“Where’re you going now?” Ethan asked, looking at the bartender's card in Noah’s pocket from time to time.

“Home,” Noah answered to his relief. Ethan wouldn’t like it if he decided to stay, because it would mean that Thomson would have to stay, too. Leaving Morgan like that? With the card in his pocket? And those idiots—who could smack his back? Ethan would rather burn this bar down than leave it without Noah.

“Are they giving you a ride?” Thomson looked at the stage, meaning Andrea.

“N-o-o-o, the band and their instruments can barely fit in the car. There’s no room for me."

It sounded sad.

“Okay, I’ll give you a ride then,” Ethan said.

“Oh, do you have a car?"

Stupid question.

“No, I have a bicycle,” Ethan mocked.

“Great! I haven’t ridden in the back seat for a while!” Morgan said it with pure joy.

“Just go,” Ethan mumbled, annoyed, and pushed Noah a little on the back. Then he immediately snapped his hand away and stared at his palm in a glove.

That was close.

“First, I need to say goodbye to Andrea and Scott,” Morgan stated, not noticing Ethan’s ‘Damn’, making his way towards the stage. “You guys were great! Well done!”

“Thank you, Noah!” Andrea smiled.

“You always say that. We were super bad!” Scott mumbled.

“The last thing I need is your compliment,” Steve snapped.

The other members remained silent.

Ethan carefully looked at Morgan’s reaction and understood that neither Steve’s comment nor the silence of other guys didn’t bother him because he got used to it; it wasn’t something unusual. Ethan considered situations like that almost fatal because there was nothing worse than getting used to the shit that had been going on. The majority thought that the human was broken when they started a scandal or burst into tears and screamed. Ethan thought that the human was broken the moment they got used to the situation. When they gave up and stopped fighting back. 

“Your bass guitarist is right: you completely messed up. The drummer was always off the beat. The guitarists were trying to chase each other. And you, Steve, you were singing flat,” Ethan said. “You play scrubby. There’s no surprise that you almost don’t have any audience. You could cover some mistakes with your charisma, but if you refuse listening, answering, or snapping as soon as a person points out your SHITTY performance, I suggest you burn your instruments right here, right now, and never come back on stage,” he stated, eyeing everyone from head to toe.

“E…Ethan, what’s going on with you?” Noah recollected himself.

“Hey, I understand that we’re not perfect, but…” Andrea was the first one to come around from the shock.

“Is it your band?” Ethan interrupted her.

“Y…yes.”

“Change the vocalist. Yours stinks. And he’s always trying to act like he’s the leader. However, as far as I’m concerned, his job is to sing, and that’s all, am I right? I could understand if he was remarkable. But he’s just an ordinary vocalist, nothing special.”

Now the girl was confused.

“Hey…” it was a very quiet exclamation of anger.

“We gotta go,” Ethan said, paying zero attention to her and pointing Morgan at the door. Thomson waited for someone to shout something behind him. But nobody dared. As usual.

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

By the time Noah and Ethan left the bar, it had already been dark outside. You could only see some bright rust stain left from the sunset on the west. On the east, the sky turned pitch black, with some rare stars that could be visible in the city and some flashing red lights from the planes flying above.

The neon sign of ‘I want you deadly’ desperately needed repair. It was flickering, so if somebody looked at it for more than two seconds, their eyes would hurt.

Noah shifted his glance from the sign to Ethan, catching himself thinking that he had thought wrong about Thomson all along. Even taking into account the first time they met, when Ethan somehow got into a fight with a local drug dealer, and the second time, when he splashed coffee in some guy’s face, Morgan still believed that Thomson was a good guy, who was aggressive only towards people who were the first to start the conflict. Tonight, Noah found out the opposite. Ethan didn’t need others to talk back in order to start talking back himself. He was generously telling everyone all he had thought, extremely straightforwardly and ball-bustingly. That was how he was building the wall of disapproval and misunderstanding around him. He was doing it on purpose. The only person Ethan had treated, for some unknown reason, normally was Noah. It was only Noah and no one else. And Morgan would be a fool if he didn’t like it. In Ethan’s personal list, though, others, even Noah’s closest friends, were written down in the ‘Enemies’ section. It turned out that Noah somehow counted the most combative person to be the most conflict-averse one. And why? Because Ethan didn’t believe the rumors? Or because Ethan would rise to the defense courageously? Or maybe because…Ethan was apparently quite handsome, and that was already enough for Noah to lose his mind? Could there possibly be something else?

The question of why Ethan, considering his temper, still showed Noah mercy remained. What if... No, but really... Was it possible? What if he could possibly? .. Morgan understood that he wouldn’t dare state his assumptions out loud, but he was more surprised that he couldn’t dare to even think about them.

Ethan stepped a little bit aside from the bar and took his phone out to take a picture of Noah. He either didn’t notice Noah staring at him or maybe simply ignored it.

“What are you doing?” Morgan was surprised. Ethan didn’t give the impression of a person who would take pictures of everything and everywhere.

“I’m trying to remember everything.”

“Remember what? The bar, where you managed to get into a fight with at least half of the visitors?” Noah smiled alcoholically. He would never ask this question sober. What if Ethan considered Morgan’s question a complaint and got mad?

“Only with a half?” Ethan acted like he was surprised, “Let’s go back in.”

“Why?”

“I’ll get into a fight with another half,” Ethan said seriously.

“Why?”

“I don’t like unfinished business.”

“So will you get into a fight with me then, too?” Noah couldn’t stop smiling. Ethan would probably think he was weird. Or an idiot.

“No.”

“Why? I’m also the other half.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So does that mean I’m special?” Noah was drunk-astonished.

Ethan frowned.

“...Unique,” he articulated so sharply that it felt like you could get a cut with this word. This feature should’ve been taken as a compliment. It was a compliment, actually. But it felt a little bit forced on the inside. If… If Ethan didn’t want to admit this uniqueness. Just if he couldn’t accept it.

“I’ll keep it in mind."

“Whatever,” Ethan shrugged shoulders and went to some open area in front of the bar.

Noah thought that Ethan wanted to warm up a bit before the bike ride, so he came up to the bike parking lot, where he found two of those ‘iron horses’. Both of them, though, didn’t have a luggage rack, which Noah could sit on.

“Well, which one is yours?” Noah asked and put his hands on his hips, thinking how they could both ride on the bike. They definitely couldn’t fit in one seat. Ethan wouldn’t place Noah on his lap, would he? Of course, he wouldn’t. But even at the thought of it, Morgan suddenly broke out in sweat. Even if they looked awkward, Noah probably wouldn’t be able to settle his racing heart for the whole ride.

“That one,” Noah nodded further behind the bike parking lot, extended his hand, and pressed the button on the alarm key fob. The black matte Mercedes-Benz blinked its lights, greeting the owner. Noah stared at the car, then shifted his eyes to the bikes. Then he carefully looked back at the car.

‘Oh, God! Is he really a rich guy?!’

Noah slightly frowned. Why did he have to go through the same stuff over and over again? Back in the day, Matthew was also a rich family’s offspring. It was a nice surprise for Noah at the beginning of the relationship. He was handsome, intelligent, and also rich? What was it? Or maybe it was a tightly-plotted fairytale? Matthew was definitely making the money fly. Despite Morgan’s will, he was showering him with gifts. Despite Noah’s confusion and resistance, Matthew always treated him to something. They had also visited so many bars and clubs on account of Matt that Morgan lost count. Unfortunately, this fairytale didn’t end with ‘And they lived happily ever after.’ After a not-so-nice breakup, Matthew demanded to return all of his presents, plus he billed Noah with the approximate amount of money he had spent on Morgan during their relationship. The money he had spent, even though Noah didn’t ask for it and was even against it. 

After that, Morgan promised to give up dealing with ‘rich kids’, since he understood that there was no chance he could become equal. Spending their money, even if they wished to, was not only unethical but also dangerous. Noah had been paying Matt the debt for almost half a year because he was too embarrassed to tell his parents that, apart from unpleasant rumors, their son had gotten burned. Of course, Morgan could let things take their course and not pay, but he had his principles.

Like so, Noah, who had promised to give up relationships with people whose financial state was way higher than his, had a crush on one of them. Again. Like so, Noah, who had promised to give up guys with bad tempers, had a crush on a person who was probably the worst one. Again. Noah, who had promised never, in no way, in no case, would fall in love with... Jesus Christ! AGAIN!

“What’s wrong? Go to the car,” Ethan nodded forward and slightly touched Noah’s back to showed him to the car. The touch seemed fleeting, really. It lasted no more than a second. “And don’t forget to wash your shirt when you get home,” he mistimed. Morgan scratched the beer stain. It was almost dry. Hopefully, Ethan didn’t really consider him a dirty dog that needed a reminder to wash his clothes, did he?

“I… You know, it’s probably better for me to walk home and sober up a bit,” Noah mumbled and moved back from the car. Actually, he tried to move back, but he bumped into Ethan standing behind him. Like Thomson could feel that Morgan was about to run away.

“Nonsense. Walking around the city at night drunk—it's not the best idea,” Ethan parried. That was indeed true, but...

“To be honest, I feel nauseous,” Noah lied, “I’m afraid I can mess up your car.”

“I have paper bags,”

“I might need a lot of them!”

“Trust me, I’ve got enough paper bags,” Ethan continued to push his point.

Noah got distracted from the situation for a moment and thought, ‘Why would he have a lot of paper bags in his car?’ Then, he decided that there were enough bold questions for him.

“Still, I wouldn’t like to mess up your car,” Noah was stubborn. He was doing it unwillingly and knowing perfectly well that he would get into the Mercedes. But still…

“That’s not my car.”

“It’s even worse!”

“Trust me, my father has enough cars. Even if you vomit all around this car, he’ll never find out about it,” Ethan assured Morgan, opening the passenger door and welcoming Noah inside.

‘But I’ll be the one to remember it!’ Morgan thought and sat down with a sigh. Ethan closed Noah’s door, then got into the driver’s seat and started the car. Morgan said his address, hoping that the ride wouldn’t take much time so his agony could end soon, but Ethan didn’t step on the gas for some reason.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, drumming his fingers upon the steering wheel and looking not at Noah but in front of him.

“Everything’s fine,” he said, sounding scared, so Ethan switched his dark-gray eyes to Noah and stared at him unblinkingly until Morgan’s embarrassment reached its maximum.

“Okay! I admit! I’m a bit confused…by…all of this!” Noah barely brought himself to speak and pointed at the car interior, “You’re…rich!”

“No. My father—he's rich. I haven’t earned a penny yet,” Ethan answered almost in relief. Did he think that Noah had other reasons to be confused?

“You don’t need to then!” Morgan snapped out and then immediately regretted it. Ethan clearly got mad because he stopped drumming on the steering wheel. Instead, he was holding on to it so tight that you could hear his fingerless gloves crack.

“Right,” he exhaled coldly, “it’s just a dream—you travel around the world and spend someone’s money carelessly until you die. There’s no point in ambitions and aspirations when you have the money, right? The most important thing is to meet your basic needs. There’s a book called ‘Eat, Pray, Love’. Have you heard of it? I suggest another more suitable version for rich jerks like me: ‘Eat, Drink, Fuck.’ Huh? Do you like it?”

Noah swallowed soundly. He had probably offended Ethan accidentally, and there was no sight of Thomson's 'mercy'.

“S…sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled.

“No, that’s exactly what you meant.”

“I’m sorry…” Noah repeated this and flattened himself against the car seat.

“Words are not enough,” Ethan’s voice seemed metallic, “If you’re sorry, then make it up to me.”

Morgan stared at Thomson like he was crazy. What did he mean? Money? Nonsense. Noah could think of anything else, but not that. Maybe… No, Ethan would never stoop so low.

“How?” Noah asked carefully.

“Somehow. Think. Be creative,” Ethan shrugged his shoulders, finally breaking the ice.

“Nothing comes to my mind,” Morgan exhaled, starting to worry.

“You don’t have to do it right now. You’ve got plenty of time.”

That comment confused Noah.

“So we won’t talk until I come up with something, right?” he asked quietly to make sure.

“Why do you think so?"

“Well, you’re… mad at me, aren’t you? I think…”

“I’m not mad.”

‘Of course you are!’

“Then why do I need to make it up to you?”

“You’re doing this for yourself, not for me,” Ethan stated, completely confusing Noah.

“I feel screwed,” he mumbled.

“It’s better than feeling guilty,” Thomson noticed and smiled, according to the tone of his voice. Noah couldn’t understand what was the matter with his mood swings. But everything sounded nice and right. He just couldn’t think of anything against it.

“Okay. I’ll tell you once I think of something,” Noah said thickly.

“Okay. I’ll wait,” Ethan nodded, finally letting off the steering wheel. After such an awkward conversation, it was quite logical to finally move the car and get concentrated on the road. But Thomson didn’t rush. Noah was about to ask why they were still stuck in the parking lot, but the other question escaped his lips:

“Do you really carry a knife with you?”

“I really do.”

“Even to the university?"

“Everywhere.”

“What if you get caught?”

“I won’t”-Thomson shook his head-“Actually, I did nothing to get caught. I’m allowed to take it anywhere with me,” he explained, “Do you want to take a look at it?”

Noah knew that Ethan was talking about the knife. He definitely knew that it was about the knife. About the knife. However, Morgan turned scarlet red and turned his eyes away unintentionally.

“Eh…Ehm… Well…Sure…” he mumbled stutteringly. Ethan, ignoring Noah’s red face, put his hand into his pocket, took the already familiar metallic pen, and handed it to Morgan.

“So was it a metaphoric knife, or something?"

“No”-Ethan shook his head-“Here, take it,” carefully, trying not to touch Noah, he put the pen onto his palm, “Untwist it.”

Noah did as he was told: he untwisted the top barrel and gasped. The top barrel was still a pen, while the opposite part ended with a thin, notched blade.

“Wow. Indeed, it’s a knife,” Noah said, turning the blade in front of him, “Though, I doubt that you can really take this knife anywhere. At the airport, for example, it can be found during the x-ray.”

“Oh, it’s not that simple,” Ethan assured, “Have you ever heard about the AbelValter case?” [This case is completely made up by the author.]

Noah shook his head. He didn’t know anything about any of the cases, besides those that were extremely popular and were broadcast by the media.

“AbelValter – is a company that makes these knives,” Ethan explained. Noah looked closely at the pen’s barrel and spotted golden letters of the company’s name, “Back in the 80s, the guy named Harvey Patz killed his colleague with this pen,” Ethan continued his story, “Of course, he was convicted. However, while he was in jail, he sued the AbelValter company. The main point of his complaint was that he apparently hadn’t known that the pen was a blade weapon; that’s why he didn’t think that a person could be killed with this blade’s stab."

“But that’s such nonsense,” Noah frowned.

“Nonsense. But there are tons of these cases, and they often win. Let’s take the lady who decided to blowdry her cat in the microwave. The cat died, and the lady sued the company with a complaint, according to which they didn’t inform her that she wasn’t allowed to do that. As a result, she won."

“Did Harvey Patz also win?”

“He wanted to. Apparently, he planned to, at least, change his clause into ‘involuntary manslaughter’, which probably would commute his sentence. He didn’t succeed, though. AbelValter’s lawyers played smart. Instead of proving that the company's pens are considered to be concealed weapons in the first place, and that’s why the owner couldn’t be unaware of it, they decided to play the other way. They collected all the technical evidence and persuaded the judge that, in this precise model, the blade wasn’t stipulated for. And this”-Ethan barely touched the knife-“this was some sort of engineering art. Like a tribute to the first pen models, where there was no sign of the blade.”

“And did they believe them?” Noah asked in surprise.

“The lawyers worked closely together, and they collected so much documentation that, if they wanted, they could prove that AbelValter had never sold pen-knives before. But they only did it with one model. This one,” Ethan took the pen from Noah’s hand and started to juggle it in a skillful way, “So, that’s why, in our state, this pen is considered to be only a stationary item, nothing more. It can’t be confiscated even at the airport."

“What if it gets confiscated?"

“You can go ahead and take the case to court, which you’ll win with a ninety-nine point, nine percent chance.”

“What about the other states?” Noah asked carefully.

“It’s better to leave it in your luggage in other states.”

“So, basically, anyone could buy this pen and –”

“No,” Ethan shook his head, “After they won the case, prices on this model flew up. Now, only collectors buy them. And my father. Do you want me to give it to you as a present?” Ethan suddenly suggested. 

“What? Why?” Noah shuddered.

“So that you can feel safer. It’s better to have some sort of weapon with you rather than be completely unarmed.”

“No, thank you,” actually, Noah would happily accept this present. He would love to have something that was originally Ethan's. But Matthew had taught him a lesson.

‘Don’t forget, Ethan isn’t your boyfriend. And he probably would never become one,’ an unpleasant thought appeared in his head, and Noah tried to shake it off.

“I’m sure you’ll need it yourself,” Morgan added quickly, worried that he could offend Ethan with his rejection.

“I’ve got seven of those,” Thomson shrugged, “Father has given me one every birthday since I was fifteen.”

“Interesting present. Why, since you were fifteen? If I had a child, I would start giving him knives since he is at least three years old!” Noah joked. But Ethan didn’t seem to like it. It was even more difficult to read his face because of the mask.

“He just didn’t understand before how dangerous his job is.”

“Was he blackmailed?” Noah guessed, embarrassed, that he had said something awkward again.

“Yes. And, as a result, a month before my fifteenth birthday, I was kidnapped, put into a car, and taken away from the city by two men on the way home from school. I was held in the basement for three days.”

Noah froze. He suddenly felt the air around them run high.

“That was how they wanted to put pressure on my father, so that he would drop the case he was working on at that time."

‘Were you scared?’

‘What were they doing to you those three days?’

‘Is that why you can’t bear any physical touch?’

There were so many questions, but Noah felt it was a crime to ask them.

"And... did he drop it?”

“No,” Ethan exhaled, and it felt like he was smiling again, “He won it .”

Noah didn’t know what to say. Ethan was probably done with the conversation since he finally put the car in gear and put his foot on the gas.

Chapter Text

5' 3"

… Thomson took his eyes off the rear-view mirror, struggling to persuade himself that he was worrying only because his imagination had played some dirty trick on him. A completely empty road was in front of him, and, for the first time in his life, Ethan regretted that they hadn't been stuck in traffic. He wouldn’t mind spending a couple of hours in good company. The name of this good company was, of course, Noah.

The parking lot conversation between Thomson and Morgan seemed more like walking barefoot on a sharp blade, every false move on which threatened to fall down a precipice, though every right move would cut your feet apart and leave sharp pain behind. Ethan pictured him and Noah as two quickly sketched figures that were slowly walking towards each other with poor balance, leaving blood stains everywhere. Though Ethan was the one to leave blood stains. Kidnapping . What was he even thinking about when he decided to tell Morgan about it? It was his secret, after all. It was a little secret that Thomson was hiding carefully, so the topic would never come up again.

Probably Noah was asking himself why Ethan had been telling him all that and why the hell he hadn’t started the car yet. Little did he know that the answer was right there all along. Thomson just wanted to spend some time with Noah in privacy. With no music on the stage, no humming around, and no irritating bartender behind their back. Just in silence. The more, the better. It was a pity that silence didn’t work out because strangers can’t spend a lot of time in silence together without feeling awkward. Silence is too intimate to share with someone you know nothing about. Try to relax and sit in silence when you can’t bear physical touch and the person you’re talking to is surprisingly upset that you come from a wealthy family. Ethan was ready for anything, but not for that. Usually his father’s financial circumstances attracted people, rather than the reverse. As soon as rumors started spreading that Ethan Thomson was some ‘golden boy’ , he would immediately get surrounded by those arrogant blood suckers like Steve and shy (but still) blood suckers, who would rather look down and mumble quietly that they are, unfortunately, short of cash today. Ethan, could you pay for that, please? I’ll pay you back, I promise!

They never paid back.

Ethan was buying it at school. In university – never. So the status of ‘golden boy’ changed into ‘cheap golden boy','mad golden boy’, ‘crazy dwarf’, and'schizy bastard.’ But the problem wasn’t in his cheapness or madness. Ethan didn’t care about the money. But he cared about any possibility of other people taking advantage of it. No, thank you; he didn’t need it. Ethan had already been there, and he didn’t like it at all. During the school years, he thought that he had a group of loyal friends, but when the circumstances showed up and Ethan needed their support, understanding, and sympathy, there was, surprisingly, no one around. Nobody offered their help. Besides, Ethan developed a slight animus toward all the benefits his father had been paying for. The reason Ethan took the car today in the first place was because there could be a possibility he needed to give Morgan a ride since he didn’t want to send him home in an Uber. Moreover, Ethan completely ignored all the cars in the garage, including Bugatti’s hypercar (his father’s gift for his last birthday), preferring to commute by either public transport or on foot. However… Probably, he needed to take the wheel again in the near future. Not for his own comfort, of course.

Ethan developed the same attitude towards his father’s power. Thomson could mention it once in a while, just like he had done in their conversation with Steve earlier that day, but his pride would never let him make these threats come true. He was bluffing. Thomson preferred to solve all of his problems, when they would become real, on his own. That was why, if one of the numerous conflicts had ever been taken to court, Ethan would personally defend himself. Without his father. Without the army of his loyal dogs of law. Without his authority or, even worse, money.

‘If I can't even defend myself, how will I defend the client? If I’m not to become a good lawyer, what’s the point of freedom?’

If Thomson’s father had an idea about his son’s thoughts, he would definitely say something about Ethan’s black-and-white mentality and teenage idealism that he needed to grow out of. Of course, he was right; there was no doubt, but Thomson couldn’t change himself with a wave of a magic wand. He didn’t want to, either.

Ethan looked in the rear view mirror again and then glanced at Morgan, whose eyes were ranging over the car dashboard. He became a bit more relaxed after a conversation with Thomson. But not completely. What’s wrong? Why did the car neither impress you nor ecstasize you? Everything turned out the opposite way. Why did you suddenly go into a shell and even try to run away? The answers were clearly hiding in Noah’s past, and Ethan desperately wanted to find them out. Maybe rich kids were bullying him at school? Or maybe it was his wealthy family that was constantly abusing him because of his financial illiteracy? Or maybe… Maybe there was a wealthy ex with a bunch of shit instead of a brain? Morgan had surely been dating someone before the rumors started. Who was he? How long? Why did they break up? There was probably more than one ex. Several? Their names? Addresses? Did they treat Noah well? Or not? If not, the next question arises: how could he pay them back and get away with it?

Thomson was trying to get rid of the intrusive thoughts, but they were coming back anyway. He was anxiously drumming on the steering wheel. Morgan was only acting like an open book, but it was easy to spot that he was hiding more than he was showing. Ethan liked it about him. He liked mysteries and hated open books that could open up and tell about the most intimate things right the first time they would meet someone. If the person tells something like that to a stranger like Ethan, then, with a 99% chance, they tell it to everyone else. Thomson, on the contrary, preferred to feel somehow special in a conversation. He preferred to feel like the person that others share the most intimate things with. He didn't want to be ‘just like anyone else’. That was why he tried to avoid people like Noah’s sociable friend. What was her name again? Andrea? She was just a typical, carefree, extremely sociable beaty-bomb who had an army of friends and mates behind her back. She was definitely building contact with them through the needless stream of pathetic compliments and being buddy-buddies. Being a basic social whore could turn any individual into a part of a mass, or so-called ‘group of friends’ that consisted of a couple of thousand people. Ethan was aware that he was probably unfair. On the other hand… He didn’t give a single fuck about them.

After all, he wasn’t interested in Andrea. She could be friends with half of the planet and believe that all the relationships she had created were real and wouldn’t fall apart after the slightest breath of wind. The most important thing was that she didn’t bother Noah and Ethan.

… And there Thomson had suddenly realized everything. He had just stopped at the red light, looked in the rear view mirror, and then, again, glanced at Noah when the shattering realization hit him like a tsunami. For some time already, he had been thinking about Morgan, like he was already sure that he would gain Noah’s affection, tell him about his feelings, propose to date, and, after receiving his consent (Ethan didn’t even bother to think about any other variant), as soon as possible, get him into...

Oh, God.

It was a really bad scenario.

The situation was developing way faster than he imagined. Three times. They’d met only three times, and yet Ethan was already stuck in his feelings for Morgan. And why? Because there was a desperately cute guy behind the beautiful voice and handsome face who didn’t lose his charm after several years of being bullied. There definitely had to be a spirit not to become a clot of hate towards himself and the people around him after all the shit he had gone through.

Ethan couldn’t even imagine. He, on the contrary, actually became that clot of hate. Due to other reasons than Noah, Thomson chose the way millions of others would choose, while Morgan was still standing, suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. And yet nobody ever tried to hit on him? Ethan couldn’t accept this fact.

It was better if Morgan had been taken. Then Ethan would’ve had to suffer through his internal hell, torn between the things he could and actually wanted to do. Thomson had learned how to control almost all of his desires. But his need for a partner wasn’t one of them. He knew that he was giving the impression of a lone person who didn’t need anyone. He did want to be a loner. Unfortunately, impressions and reality didn’t match. Ethan needed some time to tolerate that he really needed a person who he could wake up and fall asleep with, who he could share both good and bad news with, and who could build a life together. It was just a stupid romance, which Ethan thought he didn’t suit, but, on the other hand, it turned out to be a vital part of his life. The fact was even weirder because this necessity appeared when a new Ethan showed up. With an evil Ethan. With Ethan, who was fencing himself off systematically . Ethan from the past—the life and soul of the party—who could gather around himself the crowd of his admirers—didn't need that. Probably because he didn’t really understand what loneliness actually meant back then and how valuable human support was. Back in the day, he felt that life was easy and full of fun.

Well, it wasn't that much fun now, right?

Thomson knew too well the outcomes of a carefree life, that’s why, when Noah assumed that he would never have that kind of life, Ethan couldn’t hide his emotions. The slight burst of acidity, which almost immediately disappeared, brought another insight: Noah was fun not only to talk to. Teasing him also felt nice. Ethan wished he could know what Morgan had thought about when Thomson demanded to make it up for him. Nothing bad, right? Actually, Ethan didn’t want anything from Noah. More specifically, he didn’t need anything similar to ‘an apology’. All of his wishes should have been fulfilled only on a voluntary basis, rather than on the basis of trying to compromise and reclaim a fault.

…Noah must wish for it as much as Ethan.

‘Stop thinking about it!’ Thomson ordered himself, paying attention to a rare view mirror over and over again.

No, it definitely wasn’t paranoia.

“Oh, we’re here,” Noah pointed at the door of an apartment house, making Ethan frown a little. Thomson hoped to spend at least a couple of more minutes with him. “Thank you for a ride,” Morgan said as a goodbye, getting out of the car, “And for the company.”

That was it. That was how it should have ended. Step on the gas, come back home, delete Noah’s damn number from your contact list, and never appear near the art department. Never again!

“Where’re your windows?” Ethan asked, leaving the car with Noah. He noticed that Morgan wasn’t rushing home. He wanted to smoke a cigarette first. When he was taking a pack out of his pocket, something else fell out on the ground. A card. The one Morgan got from a bartender. Without a doubt, Noah threw it in the trash can.

Ethan came to the same thought involuntarily: ‘There’s no way no one has ever tried to hook up with him.’ What was he even thinking? He had already received the answer to this question no more than an hour ago. At that moment, Ethan was a witness to why Noah had been alone. He didn’t want to be with just anyone, even in his disadvantaged position. All that was giving Ethan some interesting thoughts.

Noah got embarrassed. He probably didn’t expect that Ethan would want to stay.

“Seventh floor. Do you see that creamy-ginger cat near the curtains? That’s Peanut,” he pointed up and drew a circle with a burning cigarette.

Ethan spotted the chunky cat easily. The pet’s eyes were sparkling in the darkness of the late evening.

“You’re overfeeding him,” Ethan stated.

“I’m trying to put him on a diet!” Morgan refused.

“I don’t think you’ve made any progress,” Thomson noticed. Morgan got embarrassed again after that comment.

“He’s just a creeper,” he mumbled.

“Or maybe someone’s just not strict enough,” Ethan noticed. Morgan flushed and drew in a cigarette.

Morgan seemed to prefer Ethan over the bartender. Ethan thought that he might actually be right. Maybe it was because of beer; though, Thomson would rather bet that Morgan was so not used to the normal conversation that he could fall in love with the first who treated him equally. By a strange twist of fate, that ‘first one’ wasn’t the guy from the bar. It was Ethan. Was it possible for another person to be in the same position? Or it wasn’t? Who cared? Anyway, this affection shouldn’t be taken into account. It was about to melt soon, just like snow in spring. Even if it was mutual, what was the big deal after all? Nothing could work out.

Noah took another drag. Ethan didn’t like the smell of tobacco, but, firstly, Noah smoked way too beautifully to deprive Ethan of the pleasure of observing this scene from the side. Secondly, Morgan was using some kind of subtle perfume. It was like a fresh sea fragrance. This smell, combined with cigarette smoke, made quite a combination. Ethan liked it. Or maybe he just felt that he liked it because of his developing lovesickness. Even if it were true, Ethan would still like it.

Nothing could work out; just go away. Just say goodbye and get back in the car. Nothing could work out, Ethan. What the hell are you doing?

“I’m glad that you agreed to go to the concert, thank you,” Morgan broke the silence, looking at the trash can so closely like he was talking to it, not to Ethan.

“It was... informative,” Thomson said, demanding himself to finally leave for good, “Any other suggestions?” he asked quickly.

Damn.

Goddamn.

Ethan!

Yes, even if nothing turned out, it didn’t mean that he needed to break all the connections now? 

No, it meant. It actually meant! Right here. Right now. Right away!

“Oh, of course, if you want to go somewhere else..." mumbled Morgan, looking more like a tomato.

Ethan wanted. No matter where. It could be even the Glide Memorial Church choir, even though religion had never inspired Thomson.

“You promised to take me to the gallery,” Ethan recalled, not being able to take his eyes off Noah smoking. How he was holding a cigarette, bringing it to his lips, and taking a big drag. However, the thoughts were far, far away from all that nicotine.

“Oh! So, you don’t mind?” Morgan cheered up, not having a clue what Ethan was going through, clenching his fists and trying not to touch Noah. The stupid body just couldn’t learn that it wasn’t allowed to touch other people. But the taboo was starting to fall apart at the seams as soon as Ethan began developing feelings for someone. Tactile famine was getting worse, and the desire for touch was almost unbearable. Thomson could swear; a couple of more minutes, and his hands would start smoking.

But Morgan didn’t notice any of that. For him, Ethan remained as hard as a rock that wasn’t bothered by emotions—well, maybe besides anger.

“It’s better than sitting at home all day,” Thomson said as casually as he could, “What about Saturday?”

Tomorrow? Do you really suggest you meet tomorrow? You’re crossing the line. He’ll think you’re clingy and, of course, refuse.

A shadow of doubt ran across Morgan’s face.

I knew it.

“No?” Ethan tried to stimulate Morgan’s answer.

“Yes!” Noah answered immediately, "But..."

“But what?”

“I can’t tell you the time right now. I visit my grandma on Saturdays. It can take a while.”

Grandma? Ethan was on the edge of bursting into laughter. Stupid imagination immediately drew a picture of Morgan as a Little Red Riding Hood, with a basket full of food. What role would Thomson play then? Obviously, the role of a sly wolf that…

God, it seemed that Ethan was picturing some porn in his head. He thought it was stupid and way too comic. Well, what is different now?

The cast.

“Where does your grandmother live?” asked Ethan, killing the desire to laugh.

“M-m-m…” Morgan faded away a little, “It’s Mercy McMahon retirement home.”

Well, that looked a lot less like a children’s tale of brothers Grimm.

“Is it far away?”

“Kind of.”

“What time are you planning to head out?”

“Around ten,” Noah mumbled, not sure. Probably, he wasn’t a morning bird.

“Okay. I’ll give you a ride to your grandmother, and after…”- I’ll eat you -“...we go straight to the gallery,” Ethan stated and headed back to his car, not giving Morgan time to think and refuse.

Noa stared at him like he was an alien.

“It might take several hours,” he warned carefully.

“Are you trying to talk me out of it?'

“No, of course not! I just don’t want to keep you waiting."

“Well… I won’t wait if I go with you, right?”

“To my grandma?”

“Yeah. Will I embarrass you?"

“You won’t, but the retirement home isn’t an amusement park,” Ethan said quietly, “Usually, people tend to stay away from those kinds of places. There are just elderly people, and some of them aren’t really sane. Every second, they will think you’re their grandkid.”

“I don’t demonize old people. We’ll all be them one day. If we manage to live till we’re old,” Ethan smirked and opened the car door. He was about to get in, but then something that was keeping him alert reminded him of itself again.

“My grandmother’s sick,” Morgan continued, listing his warnings.

“Is it contagious?"

“Good, no!” Noah exclaimed, frightened. Ethan only smirked skeptically.

“I don’t get it, do you want me to come or not?"

“I really do!” Morgan snapped out, and then he turned so red, it seemed like he wanted to break a new Guiness record for being the most scarlet person on the planet. “But I’m worried that your mood will get ruined, and then…” he started mumbling.

“Then I’m picking you up on Saturday,” Ethan said, ignoring Noah’s last words and enjoying his lost and embarrassed look.

“Th-thank you,” Morgan said, throwing an unfinished cigarette in the trash and moving back to his front door. He was fascinating in his simplicity.

“Rush back home,” Ethan waved, “And don’t forget about the shirt."

Morgan nodded and closed the door behind him, and Ethan…instead of getting in the car, closed the door and walked on the sidewalk the opposite way from where they came from.

The clean Audi wasn’t any different from the cars in this area. Actually, it looked almost unnoticeable here in downtown.

“Duncan, I’ve seen you,” Ethan said, knocking on the driver’s car window. The person, who had been pretending that he was reading a newspaper, pulled down the window, looking extremely unsatisfied.

Duncan cursed quietly.

“Damn, how?” the man sounded off.

“You were the one to teach me how to spot shadowing,” Ethan chuckled, “Besides, Duncan, it's the 21st century now. Who else, apart from an ancient dinosaur like you, would sit in the car and read an actual newspaper when you have a smartphone?"

“Damn technical progress,” the man mumbled, “It’s killing the vibe!"

Duncan Smith worked for Ethan’s father. The first time he had ever appeared at their front door was the week after Ethan’s kidnapping and then his comeback home. He was a bag of muscles, something around 6'5", with a shaved head, wearing a suit that was clearly made-to-order. The company TSI – Total Security International [The company’s name is fictional and was created by the author], on behalf of which Duncan was working, was signing contracts with VIP individuals all around the world. The activity list was expanding constantly. They could do anything, from counter-espionage and investigations to armed escort and bodyguarding, crowd control, and marine security.

It comes to mind that, when Ethan met Duncan for the first time, he didn’t like him at all. He reminded him of a typical daredevil from one of the movies with Arnold Schwarzenegger or Sylvester Stallone. But Smith turned out to be a simple person to contact. Especially when Duncan agreed to secretly teach Ethan some useful stuff, Thomson finally replaced rage with mercy.

It didn’t mean, though, that Ethan wasn’t mad right now.

“Were you following me? Was it my father’s request?”

“Why do you ask questions you know the answers to?” Duncan sighed, touching his nicely shaved skull with his gigantic hand. “Don’t freak out. You understand that Michael’s worried about you."

“The hell he is!” Ethan exhaled and unconsciously touched his necklace under the hoodie, “He doesn’t trust me, that’s all. Just when I decide to go out a couple of times on school nights or on a meet –”

“You’re thinking in the wrong direction. Yes, Ethan, just when you decide to go somewhere outside of campus, you immediately end up in a fight with a local pusher."

“How do you know?” Thomson frowned, “Were you watching me even then?”

“Bah, right…” the bodyguard yawned, “Someone’s tipped off that you’ve gotten into some shit voluntarily."

Ethan wanted to debate that fact, but the thought hit him.

“Did Audrey call?” he guessed.

“She did,” Duncan affirmed. He had been working for Thomson’s family for seven years now; that’s why it wasn’t surprising that everyone considered him to be a part of that family, kind of. When Audrey had cut all the connections with Ethan and her father, she, however, kept in touch with Duncan. Audrey was aware that, if her father wanted, he would find her no matter where she’d hide. With Duncan’s help, of course. In Michael Thomson’s opinion, however, he didn’t have the right to cross that line until he knew that Audrey was safe. That was why she called Duncan once in a while—to let him know that she was safe and sound and didn’t want anyone to search for her.

“So?” Ethan frowned, “The usual fight with some ‘errand boy’. What’s the problem with that?"

“Stop being a fool. It doesn’t suit you,” Duncan shook his head, “You know perfectly well that these ‘errand boys’ have a bad habit of complaining to their bosses. What are you going to do if upper-class bastards decide to visit you?” he asked a reasonable question.

“Why would they even need me?"

“So that you won’t kick out their drugbees from their working spots,” Duncan sighed, “Why do you tend to idealize everything? Or, maybe, it’s not about it? Maybe you’re doing everything on purpose, knowing perfectly well, what is it going to lead you to? Are you willingly running towards the knife so that it can cut open your belly? Do you understand that your death will break your father’s heart?”

“That’s stupid,” Ethan snapped off, finally letting go of his necklace, “I’m fine."

“You’re not invincible,” Duncan reminded. 

“I know."

“You do, but do you really understand it? Ethan, conflicts don’t always get solved in court. A lot more often, it happens in some backstreets, where seven go against one. The man can vanish just like that."

“I said I’ll be fine,” Thomson stated angrily, and he was about to go back to his car, but Duncan continued:

“It’d be extremely sad to run towards the knife right now, don’t you think?”

“What does it mean?” Ethan frowned. Instead of answering, Duncan tapped on a folder laying on the front passenger seat.

“A handsome boy,” he commented, “Do you want to know what I’ve found about him?"

Ethan struck like lightning toward Smith.

“Give it to me,” he demanded, extending his hand, “Morgan has nothing to do with it! Why the fuck do you have to stick your nose into his life?”

“I prefer to stick my nose in the life of anyone whose pants you want to stick your hands into, just in case,” Duncan laughed.

“Fuck you!” Ethan flushed, “Give me the folder right now!” 

Duncan sighed and handed the file over to Thomson. Ethan snatched it out of Smith’s hands, then he bent over the man, reached the cigar lighter and took it out. A minute later the folder, which Thomson didn’t even open, was burning in the nearest trash can. 

“So much drama,” Duncan commented, standing a bit further from Ethan, hands buried in pockets, “You don’t let me do my job.” 

“You don’t let me live,” Thomson answered back. 

“You call it a life?” Smith spreaded his hands, “You should’ve stopped by for a visit,” he stated and nodded at Noah’s house. 

“I wasn’t invited.” 

“I can bet a hundred bucks that if you asked, he wouldn’t refuse.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know about my problems,” Ethan said angrily, looking like fire is slowly eating the papers.

“Well… Let’s hope the boy can solve your problems,” Duncan said cheerfully. 

“Like it’s that simple,” Thomson frowned. Smith just shrugged his shoulders as an answer. 

“Where do you always find these innocent flowers from? Of course, I didn’t try to dig out anything specific, but the guy is awfully good. Nothing interesting.” 

When saying ‘interesting’ Duncan usually meant petty offenses. 

“Morgan isn’t an innocent flower. And don’t compare him with my other love interests. They all were different.”

“That’s your opinion,” Smith rolled his eyes, “Well… At least, he’s not as dumb as…”

“How long will you and my father continue reminding me about Greg?” 

“Till you retire!” Duncan busted into a smile, looking more like a shark from the ‘Shark Tale’ cartoon. “You can’t dany though, the guy wasn’t smart.”

“He was peculiar.”

“Peculiarly dumb,” Smith nodded. 

“Don’t try finding out anything else about Morgan till I ask you about it,” Ethan exhaled. Probably, he should’ve ordered Duncan Noah’s bully. Although, he needed Morgan’s permission for that first, because Smith would’ve had to start the searching from the very beginning, which meant he needed to research every single detail of Noah’s life. Ethan couldn’t be sure Morgan would like it. 

“I can’t promise you anything. I need to do my job,” Duncan acted like he was sad. At least, he tried.  The emotion looked artificial on his face, “But there’s a little something about your boy –”

“He’s not ‘my boy’,” Ethan bristled up immediately, but Duncan didn’t notice.

“ – that you need to know.”

“Don’t tell me anything.” 

“Okay, I won’t. You’ll see it yourself if you get lucky.” 

“I’ll see what?” Ethan shook up. Duncan answered before Thomson realized and said ‘don’t tell anything.’

“There’s a birthmark on his left thigh. It looks like a cat doing a big stretch.”

Ethan was glad that the mask was hiding the bottom part of his face. He didn’t want Duncan to have the pleasure of seeing it. 

“Do. Not. Dig. Any. Further.” he said through his teeth. 

“Are you sure? What if it’s not the only birthmark he has?” Smith winked. 

“Duncan, shut up!” Ethan uttered and returned to his car without saying goodbye.

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

Noah always experienced a mix of anxiety and anticipation the day before the trip to his grandmother. Love interspersed with fear. On the one hand, he really wanted to see her, chit-chat about stuff, hold her hand, and, if he got lucky, hear her laugh. On the other hand, what if she got worse? Or, once she’d see Noah and not recognize him, she’d freak out and kick him out of her room? That had happened before—not even once. What if his grandma mistook him for another person and started to ask him about things he had never heard of? Though she’d usually take Morgan for a nice stranger who wouldn’t mind listening about her wonderful daughter and a grandchild. That option always seemed to Noah to be the least painful one, even though it wasn’t less depressing. 

It just happened that grandma’s health began to sink just when Noah entered his puberty stage, which made him grow up for at least 4 inches and lose weight rapidly, all in just several months. At school, people called Noah ‘fat pig’, but then, surprisingly, he became  ‘thin rail’. Morgan liked neither of those nicknames. But what he liked even less was that all the changes in his appearance confused his grandmother’s struggling brain, so she stopped recognizing her favorite grandchild in Noah. It feels odd and eerie when one of the closest people in the entire world doesn’t see the same in you anymore. 

This time, Noah was worried even more than usual. Not because of his granny, no. Because of Ethan. What was Morgan even thinking when he agreed to take Ethan with him? If you like a guy (which Noah had to admit he had a big crush on Ethan), it’s quite weird to take him to a retirement home on the first date. 

It wasn’t a date, of course. To begin with, Noah had no idea about Ethan’s preferences. Even though, after Thomson’s question, ‘Do I look like a person who can’t do a blowjob?’ it was possible that he was, at least, a bi. However… Noah had the impression that Ethan’s position in a question was not because of his preferences but because of his aching pride. Something like, ‘If others can, why can't I?’ If these moments remain unnoticed, then Noah doubted that Ethan could be into anyone. Regardless of gender, Morgan didn’t have enough imagination to picture a person suitable for Thomson. Ethan just seemed to be a complicated and closed person. Like he had his own agenda. Let’s take the evening in ‘I want you deadly’ into account. The majority of the time, Ethan looked absent. Like his mind was on the other side of the planet, or even the universe. The concert didn’t raise any interest. Probably, the small talk with Noah was also boring. It looked like the only thing that could make Ethan present  was conflicts. No matter which and with whom he could blend into fights, negative confrontations, and wrangles so easily, as if it was his cup of tea. The only comfortable position. On the contrary, peace and calm could cause apathy in Ethan. 

Noah was thinking about Thomson until late at night; that’s why he managed to catch only a couple of hours of sleep before his alarm made him jump out of bed. Morgan always set up not one but ten alarms that were going off one after the other with a five-minute break. He could never wake up earlier than the 8th alarm. Only today did Noah jump out of bed with the first signal. Too many thoughts were swirling in his head to let him lay in bed peacefully. After taking a shower, Morgan spent almost an hour fixing his hair, which didn’t show any difference at the end. When he searched through almost all of his wardrobe and tried on at least half of his clothes, Noah chose a pair of dark-blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a short kimono shirt. There was a red sea dragon on the back of the shirt. Noah’s usual looks didn’t change after all. No matter how Noah tried to look better, he looked in the mirror and understood that Ethan would see him to be the regular Noah Morgan, not the wow-so-handsome-Noah-Morgan that I would-definitely-hook-up-with-him. 

Maybe it was for the best? Noah didn’t know how Ethan would react if he noticed that Morgan liked him. What if Thomson got disgusted? Or embarrassed? Or what if he decided that Noah’s feelings were a problem that he wouldn’t want to solve?

Still, Morgan wanted to add something new to his appearance, so he put on some round glasses with transition lenses that could change the color from blue to green, depending on the edge of the light. Noah looked in the mirror critically and decided that he looked nice . After the second look, he decided that he looked more like a clown . The third observation made him think that he looked ugly  in any clothes, so what was the point? And this stupid acne that never bothered Noah before suddenly looked disgusting. What if Morgan had no chance that Ethan would like him because he had acne? 

Ethan Thomson: ‘I’m outside.’

After this short message, Noah flinched and threw his phone away on the bed for some reason. His heartbeat ran up. 

‘Stop panicking! Everything’s gonna be great!’ Morgan thought, giving Peanut a good-bye kiss on his head, taking grumpy Fluffy in his arms, and hugging him firmly. Noah forgot that it wasn’t a good idea to hug Fluffy on your way out. Especially if you had white clothes on. The next five minutes Morgan spent cleaning the shirt from the cat's black hair with a sticky roller and panicking that he was late. 

Noah had smoked several cigarettes already, so his nicotine cravings wouldn’t be so bad while he was with Ethan. However, as soon as he got into the car, his hand immediately laid on the pack in his front pocket. 

“Good morning,” Thomson said with such an unclear intonation that it was possible to congratulate newlyweds with it and say a funeral speech at the same time. 

“Oh,” Noah suddenly realized that he was lost in his thoughts and forgot to greet Ethan. “Yeah, good morning!” he answered emotionally. 

“You’re worrying.” 

“What? Of course not! Why would I worry? I’m not worrying. Not at all,” Noah rattled, taking his glasses off and then putting them back on. 

“That wasn’t a question,” Ethan said, and maybe he smiled. Noah sighed soundly, hoping that Thomson wouldn’t guess what the reason for his behavior was, even though Morgan couldn’t let go of the thought that Ethan could see beyond his skin and bones. What if he really did? Did it mean that he knew about Noah’s affection? Didn’t it scare him off?

Morgan had already sent the address of Mercy McMahon Retirement home to Thomson earlier. Now the destination point was a red dot blinking on the navigator’s screen. Considering the information below, it shouldn’t have taken more than forty minutes to get there. Forty minutes with Ethan in the same car? Sober? It was quite a challenge. 

Thomson drove out on the road, certainly not experiencing the same emotions as Noah. Ethan, of course, didn’t give the impression of a person living in peace. There was probably a full-time war in his soul, with nuclear weapons and endless bombing of everything around him. But these battles had nothing to do with Morgan or the world around him. Unlike Noah, whose anxiety was definitely because of Ethan. 

It was getting more and more difficult to sit in silence, but Noah, who usually could start some chit-chatting easily, suddenly couldn’t find any topic for the conversation. Just when he was about to open his mouth, the words would get stuck and scratch his throat. Morgan was worried he could say some stupid thing again, just as he did the day before. Who knew, what if Ethan wasn’t in such a good mood today and it wouldn’t be enough to make it up for him in the near (or not) future? Instead, he could actually drop him off in the middle of nowhere and drive away, leaving Morgan in a state of guilt and unbearable regret. 

‘Damn, he could’ve played some music or something,’ Noah thought helplessly, and only after that did he notice that the car speakers had been working all that time. There was some other quiet sound coming from them, not music. It was the sound of the rain. Weird choice.

“Is it calming you down?” Noah was trying to catch an opportunity to talk. 

“What?”

“Rain.” 

“No.” 

“I know that such sounds are used in meditations. It can improve people’s sleep.”

“I don’t have any pleasant associations with rain,” Ethan parried, and Noah bit his tongue. What was his problem? Ethan gave the impression of a minefield. Should he ask or not? Ask, or not to ask? Should he? Or maybe he shouldn’t?

“Then why did you turn it on?” No, Noah wasn’t interested in that. He wanted to learn more about the associations. 

“I’m trying to get used to it. It’ll be quite funny if I freeze in the middle of the street because of the light rain,” Ethan answered super casually. Noah would love to dig into it, but Thomson definitely wouldn’t enjoy it. But, after all, Morgan wouldn’t be able to change the conversation quickly enough because there was nothing to switch to. 

“Do you visit your grandmother often?” Ethan helped Noah out in his desperate search for the new topic of the conversation. 

“Every weekend.” 

“Are you that close?” 

“Yes, we are,” Noah nodded, smiling. 

“Why do you go there alone?” 

“What do you mean?” Morgan didn’t catch the question. 

“Why not with your parents?” Ethan clarified. 

“Oh, that,” Noah said, embarrassed because he didn’t think about his relatives, “They live in New York. They moved a year ago.” 

“Why didn’t you move with them?” the question followed. 

“Because my grandmother lives here ,” Noah said sullenly, “The doctors said that she’s too weak for big changes. Actually, parents didn’t really want to take her with them either. What’s the most important thing about the retirement home, after all? Paying. You don’t have to show up there too often.” 

“But you do.” 

“Of course! That’s my grandmother! How can I leave her?” 

Noah put too much grief in these words, so, to lower the pressure, he yawned histrionically. Like, look, Ethan, the topic wasn’t that painful at all. 

“Didn’t get enough sleep?” 

“I wish.”

“Couldn’t fall asleep, or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

‘Because of you!’

“I don’t even know. Probably, I was way too impressed by the gig,” Noah lied. 

“Like there was something to be impressed by,” Thomson smirked. 

“They weren’t that bad,” Noah frowned. Yes, Andrea’s band didn’t play perfectly, but they were, at least, trying! 

“That’s right, but they aren’t that good, either,” Ethan noticed, driving off the road and turning to the parking lot near the cafe. 

“Where are you going?” Noah perked up, when Thomson stopped the car and opened the door. 

“I’ll be right back. You’ll barely have time to miss me,” he didn’t give a lot of information for an answer, which made Noah embarrassed and wish to sink into the ground. Ten minutes later, Morgan got a big latte. He took a sip and felt a rich chocolate taste. 

“So tasty, thank you,” he expressed his gratitude, “How much do I owe you?” 

“Nothing,” Ethan tossed out. 

“No, that’s not gonna work. Let me pay you back,” Noah mumbled while searching in his pockets. There should’ve been a twenty. 

“I said ‘nothing’. Do I need to say it twice?” Ethan said it so calmly, but it gave Morgan chills. 

“I… I just don’t like to feast at someone else’s expense,” Noah frowned. 

“Latte—it’s not a feast. You didn’t ask me for it. This purchase is my own initiative. It’s my gift, if you wish. You don’t like it? Then throw it out of the window,” Ethan said through his teeth sharply. 

“I like it,” Noah stuttered, “Then next time coffee’s on me,” he almost whispered, feeling invisible pressure. 

“As you wish.” 

Yes, definitely a minefield. 

“How did you guess that I like chocolate?” Morgan asked with a fake surprise, trying to escape the awkwardness. 

“Almost everybody likes it,” Ethan said, toying with his cup. His tone immediately became normal. Most likely, Ethan’s mood was as changeable as the sea. A second ago, there was still air, and then suddenly a storm advisory and waves that were at least six feet high. 

“Did you also get yourself the one with chocolate in it?” 

“No. I don’t like sweets.” 

“Hm… A regular then?” 

“No,” Ethan said, shaking his head again. Noah was confused. 

“Then which one did you get?” 

Thomson looked heavily at him, as he was thinking about whether he should tell Morgan such valuable information. 

“With salt,” he answered after a long pause. Noah froze, unintentionally staring at Ethan like he was crazy. 

“With salt? Like, the salty salt?” he said, the first thought that came to his mind. 

“Exactly,” Ethan confirmed, “I usually order a double Americano and add a pinch of salt to it.” 

“And... is it good?” 

“Would you like to try?” Ethan handed his cup to Noah, “I haven’t drunk out of it yet.” 

“Oh, who cares?” Morgan shrugged, taking the cup and trying to smell it for some reason. 

“Some do care,” there was a silent Thomson’s comment. 

Noah looked at the cup skeptically for a couple of seconds and then took one cautious sip. 

“How is it?” Ethan asked, carefully monitoring Morgan’s reaction. 

“Strange. Not bad, but unusual,” Noah shared his thoughts. 

“Salt neutralizes the bitterness of coffee. It does it better than even sugar. It also intensifies the taste and aroma. The most important thing is not to overdo it,” Thomson explained. 

“That’s great. How did you find out about it?” 

“From my father. He traveled the world back in the day. Some cultures drink coffee like that. When I tried it for the first time, this combination also seemed weird to me. However, no, I add some salt to my coffee when I have a chance.” 

“You have such an unusual taste,” Noah smiled. 

“Did you notice just now? And how about your ‘Devil’s Eye’?” Ethan smirked. 

‘It stopped working the second after you came up to me and started talking,’ Noah thought helplessly. 

“I’m not invincible,” Morgan frowned, “and I don’t think that salted coffee can be considered an ‘imperfection’.” 

“Who knows…” There was a smile in Ethan’s voice, “If I have a peculiar taste in beverages, then the question arises—what my other tastes can be peculiar, right?” he said slowly. Noah was aware that Thomson could mean anything, from the taste of clothes to the taste of cinema. Maybe Ethan loved old Indian movies about love with songs and dances. Or maybe he loved dipping French fries in ice cream. Or maybe he was crazy about taxidermied animals. There were tons of variants. Though the first thing Noah had thought about was sex. 

Of course, it was about sex. 

What else would he think about besides sex, God damn it! 

Noah was confused and quickly turned his head to the window, feeling his face turn red. The only thing left was to hope that Ethan wouldn’t notice and ask, why the hell did Morgan suddenly become so embarrassed, because Noah wouldn’t be able to give a proper answer. Actually, he could, but he wouldn’t. Ethan would definitely call him a pervert if he found out about the fantasies in Noah’s poor head. 

The rest of the ride Morgan was examining the view attentively. He was too embarrassed to look at Ethan. 

“You don’t have to come with me,” he said quietly when the retirement home’s wrought gate appeared in the distance. 

“You make me sick,” he suddenly heard the annoyed voice as an answer. 

“I’m sorry?” Noah asked. 

“I’m saying that you make me sick. We talked about it yesterday. Did something change over the night?” 

“No.” 

“Then I’ll take the Fifth.” 

“Huh? What?” 

“According to the Fifth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution, ‘No person shall be subject, except in cases of impeachment, to more than one punishment or trial for the same offense – 

“I still don’t get it,” Noah was almost whispering. 

“You can’t be judged for committing the same crime twice,” Ethan explained patiently, “In our situation, you can’t talk me into staying in the car twice.” 

… A thought suddenly hit Noah. Every time Thomson was turning lawyer mode on, it was really getting him going. Probably Morgan should’ve given his body more attention in the shower this morning so that it wouldn’t bother him that much right now! 

“I’m just worrying that you won’t like it there,” he mumbled, trying to push the nasty thoughts away.

“I’m not even sure I’ll like it,” Ethan parried while parking the car. 

“Then… Why are you going with me?” Noah finally brought himself to speak about it. That question was hunting him for almost half of last night. 

“Isn’t it obvious? I want to get to know you better,” Ethan stated, getting out of the car. Noah rushed after him. 

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” 

“Why do you need to get to know me better?”

Ethan frowned. 

“Do you mind?” 

“What? No, I don’t mind.” 

“Then let’s go.” 

“You didn’t answer the question!” 

“Yes,” Ethan nodded. 

“What do you mean ‘yes’?” Noah made a helpless gesture. 

“Yes, I didn’t answer your question,” Thomson said, going to the main entrance of the retirement home. 

God. Damn. Minefield. 

Mercy McMahon’s employees knew Noah well, so when guys were heading to the building, Morgan said hi to a couple of nurses. 

“Good morning, Mr. Morgan!” Miss Ellie greeted Noah. She was a joyful, chubby lady who worked as the receptionist. “You never miss Saturdays. For a young man of your age, you’re dead on time! Oh, and who’s that little one? Is he your younger brother?” 

Noah could swear his heart skipped a beat at this phrase. He slowly glanced at ‘the little one’, sure that Thomson was holding a pen-knife in his pocket. 

“I’m twenty-two. And I’m not his relative,” Ethan didn’t say anything extraordinary, but his words sounded like a curse. Miss Ellie got confused, and Noah was about to go meet his maker. 

“He’s my friend,” he mumbled quickly, “Excuse me, how was grandma doing this week?” he changed the topic. 

“No incidents,” the woman notified, “However, she refuses to eat more often. We’re doing our best. Sometimes it can lead to scandals. But don’t you worry. She’s moody every fall; besides, scandals are a good sign! That means she’s full of life and energy!” Miss Ellie assured, noticing that Noah had darkened. 

"Where's my grandmother now?” 

“As usual,” the woman smiled. 

“Thank you; I should go then.” 

“Sure. And… I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to offend you!” Miss Ellie addressed Ethan again. 

“Would you feel better if I called you a slut and then apologized?” 

The woman became pale. So did Morgan. 

“Jesus, Ethan!” Noah got angry, grabbed his hoodie, and basically forced him out of the building. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Thomson hissed, freeing himself from Noah’s grasp. 

“No, what the hell are you doing?!” Morgan snapped back. Noah could rarely raise his voice. He didn’t like it. And Ethan was definitely disoriented by his furious look. “Now you listen to me carefully. We’re not on campus. Neither are we in ‘I want you deadly’. We’re not in a fucking court either! We, God help me, we are in a retirement home. My grandmother’s well being depends on these people. Don’t you dare to fight with anyone! And don’t even think about being rude! If you’re not capable of it, then go back to your car!” Noah almost yelled, pointing in the direction of a parking lot furiously. 

“Interesting,” Ethan commented calmly. 

“What the fuck is interesting here?!” Noah continued raging. 

“Usually, when people are mad, their voice goes up higher. Yours – lower.” 

“What the fuck does it have to do with my voice?!”

“It’s beautiful.” 

Noah got confused, but he didn’t calm down. 

“Are you going back to your car?” 

“No.” 

“Then promise me that you won’t say something rude to my grandma,” Noah demanded. 

“I won’t if she doesn’t tell me some nonsense.”

“Ethan!” Noah yelled, “She’ll tell you some sort of nonsense with, at least, a ninety-nine percent chance! She has Alzheimer!” 

“Oh…” Thomson said. It seemed like he was confused. At last. 

“Nothing rude. Do we have a deal?” Noah sighed more calmly. Ethan looked at him furiously. Such question was probably driving him crazy, which was why it was weird to hear him say it coldly, 

“Okay.”

“Did I offend you?”

“No. I never get offended.” 

“So, are you mad then?” 

“I am.” 

“Why are you mad? Do you think I was wrong?” 

“It doesn’t matter whether you’re right or wrong. But you’re restricting me.”

“Just go to your car then. Nobody will restrict you there,” Noah noticed aggressively. 

“I won’t. I want to continue to be mad at you. Maybe it’ll help me get rid of your influence.” 

“What?” Noah rubbed his eyes, tired. He always had a headache after having bursts of anger, “I don’t understand you.” 

“You will.” 

“Why are you so complicated?” 

“Why not?” 

Mercy McMahon Retirement Home had a lot of territory. Besides, it was located on a hill, so there was a great view of the ocean from the west. The view was a key point when choosing a new home for grandmother. 

Noah and Ethan had crossed dozens of narrow paths before they reached a wide meadow that was covered with little pavilions, like mushrooms. All these old people there were playing chess and reading, and some of them were even taking a nap. But the farthest pavilion (the farthest from the building and the closest to the ocean) had been taken by a specific person. 

Grandmother was sitting on a stool. There was a canvas in front of her. Hundreds of paint cans surrounded her; a lot of them were already empty or dried out. She dipped her brush into the mix of paint and applied it to the white surface with bold strokes. The painting wasn’t ready yet. But the marine scenery was definitely recognizable. Even now, when grandmother wasn’t aware of what she had been doing the majority of the time. 

“Is she an artist?” Ethan asked quietly. 

“Yes. However, when she would hear that question, she would always refuse. Apparently painting was just a hobby, and she had to learn a lot more to be a pro,” Noah answered. 

“But I don’t agree with that.” 

“Me neither,” Thomson nodded, entering the pavilion. Noah followed him.

Chapter Text

5' 3"

Morgan was full of surprises. It was such a sweet gesture of respect for the elderly. Ethan had never met his grandparents. He was born too late to meet any of them in person. He was jealous as a child when other children of his age were bragging about the upcoming weekend at their grandparents’ house, where they could live off the fat of the land. He was also jealous of those who said that hanging out at their grandparents’ house was lame. Ethan had neither interesting trips nor lame ones, though he wanted both. But all of these relationships had other sides. Nothing lasts forever. The more relatives you have, the more people you have to lay to rest. A lot of people of the same age as Ethan had to go through the loss of their grandfathers and grandmothers in primary school already. They either had to go through the loss or, like in Morgan’s situation, they had to watch them die.

Ethan didn’t expect that the retirement home would jog his own memories—not the nicest ones. That emerald grass. Flowered beds, which were so bright they didn’t look real. Nicely cut bushes. And there were nurses and volunteers swirling everywhere with a tight smile and deeply tired eyes. They were constantly reminding that everything around them was just a nice picture, hiding the horrible truth: residents of the retirement home were living out their remaining days, waiting for their time to pass away. Nothing could erase that feeling: neither beautiful benches, where the old people were playing chess, nor even beautiful maple trees, where the residents of this place could sit down and relax in the shadow. Nice weather and fresh air couldn’t reduce the feeling of loneliness and desolation. The smell of fresh pastry couldn’t mute the feeling of an upcoming loss. That place was deflecting him and making him feel anxious. There was death everywhere—between nice pathways, beautiful fountains, and thick, aged laughter. 

That’s why Ethan was amazed that Morgan visited this place every week. It was possible to guess that the retirement home affected him differently than Thomson. It was easy to understand at a glance: Noah felt even worse than Ethan. He didn’t just feel that dark, suffocating feeling, no. He hated this place. 

While wanting to spend more time with Morgan, Ethan didn’t lose hope of finding out something about Noah that could alienate him from Thomson. Ethan had already done it before, but not once. Sometimes it was enough for Ethan to hear one dumb phrase for an interlocutor to be dead for him. On the contrary, every word, gesture, or reaction of Noah had led Ethan to the opposite outcome. Even when Morgan, who was pissed at Ethan at the receptionist, took him outside like he was a guilty puppy, Thomson didn’t have a single doubt that they could make a great couple. This situation had probably persuaded Ethan that he and Noah rounded each other out. And when Morgan raised his voice, angry with the situation… Good that Noah couldn’t read people’s minds, or else he would shut his mouth and never say a single word again, in order to never know the fantasies of a hungry  Ethan. 

Overall, Thomson was mad after their small fight. His inner being was mad, and it was screaming on top of its lungs in desperate wish for obedience because Ethan had been making himself a straightforward, carefree, not thinking about the rest of society kind of person for years. However, in bitter reality, he did care about Noah’s opinion. There were two reasons why he couldn’t ignore him: firstly, Ethan didn’t want to offend Morgan, and secondly, Noah had a point. 

Because of his spoilt  character, Ethan had lost all of his friends and mates. There was no person (except his father, who was too busy to teach him wit) who could make Ethan look at his own behavior from the side. There was no one who could try to slow him down and explain why he was wrong. 

There was no one, and then he appeared. 

Ethan was quick-tempered, but he definitely wasn’t stupid. He was aware that he wasn’t always right. Sometimes feelings just take over. The feelings that others were trying not to notice, and then they became surprised why Ethan was suddenly sore about something. He couldn’t say that Noah was more sharp-eyed than the others. However, he wasn’t afraid to show his dissatisfaction, looking Ethan directly in the eye and not gossiping behind his back like others did. 

“Beautiful,” Ethan said loudly enough so that the woman would notice him. 

“Yes, the painting is just on fire!” Morgan immediately added, looking extremely proud of his grandma and her art. 

The gray-haired woman flinched and turned around. She had her hair up in a bun. Her eyes had definitely lost their beauty with time, but you could see the blue and green colors if you looked closely enough. It was the same marine color as her grandson had. The woman fixed her glasses with thick lenses, trying to identify the unexpected visitors. She was confused at first, but then her lips beamed with a smile. 

“Noa! My darling!” she flung her arms up and stood up from the stool awkwardly. If she had been younger, she would have jumped up from it. 

Ethan glanced at Morgan, hoping to see the same smile on his face, but Noah froze and stared at his grandmother like she was a ghost. He was disoriented by her reaction. And then Ethan understood why. 

“Darling, I’ve missed you so much!” the woman came up to Ethan and hugged him. Thomson froze. Morgan froze. The woman, who mistook a stranger for her grandson, stepped back from frozen Ethan slowly and reached to his face. 

“Why do you need a mask, sweetheart? Did you catch a cold in this hot weather?” 

“Yes, I’m terribly sick, and it’s extremely contagious,” Ethan snapped and stepped away. He remembered that he wasn’t allowed to be rude to Noah’s grandmother. He certainly wasn’t allowed to hit her hands, so she wouldn’t touch him. Though Ethan couldn’t let himself take off the mask and pretend like there was no need for it,. 

“Oh, I see,” the woman sighed sympathetically, “I wish I could make you my special chamomile tea with honey. Do you remember that I used to make it for you when you were a kid? However, there’s no tea or honey around here,” she said, making a helpless gesture. It sounded sad. “Well, we shouldn’t worry about these little things! Tell me, who’s that handsome young man with you?” she pointed at Noah. Morgan was white as chalk, “Is he…” the woman stepped closer to Ethan, so he could smell paint from her, “... your boyfriend?” 

Oh, she’s aware of Morgan’s orientation. Interesting. When did he come out, and how? More interesting was what she was supposed to answer now? 

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend,” Thomson approved, and he caught Morgan's face falling by the eye. What else was he supposed to answer? There was only one chance for Noah to get some attention from his grandmother. It was the only reason why Ethan had given such an answer. The one and only reason! “His name is…” Ethan stopped short, “His name’s Ethan.” 

“Ethan and Noah! Sounds wonderful!” the woman stated and tried to reach Thomson’s wrist when he suddenly hid his hand behind his back and mumbled in response to the old lady’s worried look. 

“I’ve…Um…” Ethan didn’t like lying for any reason. Nothing had ever come to his mind during such moments.

“He has eczema,” Morgan suddenly said. The woman glanced at him, 

“Noah, sweetheart? Who’s that handsome young man? Is he…”

Ethan understood that he had played the wrong card. It didn’t matter how he introduced Noah. However, it didn’t bother him to call Noah his boyfriend for the second time. 

“I haven’t seen you for ages! Come here, sit down, and tell me how you’ve been!” the woman went back to her stool. The first thought that appeared in Ethan’s head, just when the woman turned her back at him, was the urge to run away. He should’ve left as soon as possible. Thomson was about to turn around to leave the pavilion, but Noah had blocked his way out already. This barrier didn’t look resistless. One punch was enough to get him out of the way. But Ethan decided to listen to what he was up to. 

Noah leaned forward to Ethan and whispered quietly, 

“Play along.” 

Ethan’s right ear became hot with Morgan’s breath. It was good that Noah was smart enough not to touch Thomson. It was good that Thomson had the guts not to punch Morgan when he was standing so close to him. The torture with the code word ‘grandmother’ was already enough. He had certainly reached his limit of touch for this month. 

“Please, let her think that her grandkid came over to visit,” Noah begged.

“Her grandkid actually came to visit,” Ethan parried quietly. 

“Recognizable grandchild. She hasn’t been recognizing me for a long time,” Morgan said.

“Then why do you come visit her every week?” Thomson was truly surprised. 

“What do you mean ‘why’? I recognize her. And I do remember her!” 

“That’s kind of unfair,” Ethan noticed, “Okay, fine. I’ll play along. But I’m not a fan of humanism. If you want me to do something for you, you need to offer me a reasonable reward,” he demanded. 

“What would you like to get?” 

Ethan would like a lot of things. Considering the fact that he hadn’t touched a single body for four years (besides when he was in fights), Thomson’s imagination worked with double effort. 

Oh… 

He would definitely…

Yeah…

“I don’t need anything,” Ethan lied without skipping a beat. 

“Then…” Noah tapped his chin, thinking, “I owe you a wish. Sooner or later, you’ll want something!”

That was smart. 

“You’d do anything I ask?” Thomson clarified. 

“Anything within reasonable limits,” Noah mumbled.

“What if I had only unreasonable wishes?” Ethan smirked, “I don’t see a scale of reasonableness here, either,” he noticed and frowned, “Besides, you already owe me one,” Thomson reminded, meaning the last evening. Morgan was supposed to make it up to him, not give more promises. 

“I remember. These are going to be two separate owings,” he assured. 

“What’s the difference?”

“For the first thing, I need to think of something for you, right? And for the second, you’ll tell me what you’d like.”

“Another pointless blathering,” Ethan concluded, “Okay, let’s do it your way. I’ll warn you; you better not keep me waiting for long.” 

“Or else?” 

“Or else there will be charges.” 

“Charges for wishes?” Noah smiled. 

“Exactly,” Ethan nodded and went to the bench that was standing near Noah’s grandmother. Ethan had to sit down near the old lady when Noah sat a bit further from them. Everything looked absurd for Thomson, and it was getting worse and worse. The woman was a bottomless well of questions, and Ethan was answering them with the help of Noah’s quiet hints. Was she really not noticing? Was it real that her ill brain wasn’t suspicious? What a horrible illness! 

Ethan talked to Noah’s grandmother for forty minutes. This torture made him exhausted. On the other hand, judging by Morgan’s appearance, it literally destroyed him. Not once. Noah tried to take part in their conversation several times, but the old lady either ignored him or asked Ethan again who Morgan was. Finally, Noah gave up, and when they were walking back to the parking lot, he was ashen-faced. 

“Are you upset?” Ethan asked when they got into the car. Of course, he was upset. 

Morgan bit his lip nervously. And didn’t say anything. 

“If you don’t feel like doing anything, we can call it for today,” Thomson said calmly. Even though he wanted to spend some more time with Noah, torturing him wasn’t in his plan. Morgan shook his head. 

“No, I’m fine,” he assured, “There’s one thing, m-m-m... Do you mind if I stop by my house?”

“No, I don’t,” Ethan nodded and started the car. 

Morgan surely wasn’t the heart and soul of the party on the way to the retirement home, but Ethan thought his silence was because of the embarrassment he felt. Now the silence felt almost heavy. Ethan Thomson even felt a tiny bit guilty. He should’ve stayed in the car, as Noah asked. But no, he didn’t. As usual, Ethan did everything the way he wanted to. Was he satisfied with the result? Of course, not. 

Suddenly, the sound of the rain coming out of speakers started to annoy more than usual, so Ethan switched to the radio. The car was filled with the voice of Robert Johnson – one of the most popular blues composers of the 20th century. He insisted that he once made a deal with the devil on the crossroads in order to play blues. 

…Early this mornin', ooh, when you knocked upon my door

…And I said, “Hello, Satan, I believe it’s time to go”

…Me and the devil, was walkin' side by side

Ethan started wondering what he would ask if Devil proposed to him to make a deal. He tried to convince Morgan that there was nothing he needed. However, there were thousands of wishes deep down in his subconscious. It was such a dark place that Thomson tried not to look inside it too often. Still… What would his wish be? To change the past? To fix the present? Or to give himself a chance to build a happy future? 

Ethan glanced at Noah and noticed that he was singing along quietly. So, the choice of music was right. Which was to be expected from the owner of ‘Devil’s Eye’. Such an interesting power in the hands of a person who couldn’t use it for his own defense. Devil’s Trap it was, indeed. 

“I’ll try to be back asap,” Morgan nodded when Thomson stopped the car near his house. 

“So you won’t invite me?” Ethan asked out of curiosity. It wasn’t that he really wanted to see Noah’s place, but he was curious after all. The biggest reason for that question was a feeling of guilt. Thomson understood that there was nothing to feel guilty of. Though, understanding didn’t match with feelings. 

A vestige of doubt ran across Noah’s sad face. 

“Y-yes, sure,” he stuttered, “Fluffy and Peanut will be happy to have a guest over!” he said it more confidently. 

“And what about you?” Ethan asked seriously. 

“Of course, I’ll be happy, too,” Morgan mumbled and immediately turned red. Well, it was better when he looked embarrassed rather than like the saddest person in the world. When Ethan looked at the upset Morgan, he wanted to hug him and take pity on him. But he couldn’t do the first thing and was incapable of doing the second one. He could show emotional support, but Thomson wasn’t showing any progress in this either. 

Morgan’s flat seemed tiny to Ethan. It was probably because every inch of the wall was covered with paintings. There were even more of them standing by the farthest wall, by the side of the wide bed. You could only guess how the fluffy inhabitants of this house managed to live together with this art gallery without ruining it. 

“Did your grandmother paint all of them?” Ethan asked to specify while looking at the canvas with a sunset shining through the billowing waves. 

“Yeah,” Morgan said quietly, “You want some tea or something?” 

“No.”

“Then, if you don’t mind...” a towel appeared in Noah’s hand, “I need to wash my face real quick.” 

Why would somebody need to come back home just to wash their face?

“Sure,” Ethan decided not to bring up that topic and looked through the paintings instead. They were all showing the sea, ocean, or some sort of water. They all looked different, though. And unbelievably realistic. It felt like Ethan was looking at the photographs. You needed to look extremely closely at the canvas to tell the difference between the real photographs and these paintings. Ethan walked around the studio, looking at the pictures hanging on the walls, and then went over to the set of paintings standing near the wall. He was in the middle of the process when he suddenly felt something touching his leg and flinched: the black cat was sniffing his ankles suspiciously. Usually, the majority of people have the urge to pet such a big, fluffy cat when they see it. Ethan didn’t move. He was looking at the cat, and the cat was looking back at Ethan. It seemed like they were trying to stare each other down. The winner was the one to blink the last. 

Ethan lost. Accidentally. He heard something fall, so he broke eye contact and looked around unconsciously. He found the source of the sound when he looked behind his back. The ginger cat, which was lying the whole time on the bed, at some point decided to stretch its hind paws. While stretching, the animal accidentally pushed the sketchbook that was lying on the bedside table. So it fell on the floor and opened on the pages that were touched more than the others. Ethan picked up the sketchbook with no thoughts of looking through it, but then he accidentally looked at the savage look drawn on the paper. It was his look. Noah didn’t draw in realism like his grandmother did. His style looked more like it was from a comic book. However, Ethan recognized himself easily. 

Thomson was aware that it was, at least, rude to look through people’s sketchbooks without permission. Through… It was him in the pictures. Nobody asked his permission, either. So, Ethan thought it was a fair trade to look through the sketches. It was a drawing from the evening of the party, where he and Noah met. Did Ethan really look so gloomy and unsociable? Thomson turned the page over. He was taking his mask off in that picture. On the third sketch – he was already taking his hoodie off. 

Okay. 

Ethan flipped through the rest and evaluated his torso, according to Morgan’s imagination. Well… It almost looked like his actual torso. However, Ethan couldn’t say he had such expressive abs, which Noah had probably dreamed of. More or less, it looked similar. In the sketch, Ethan held the button of the jeans with his fingers. Thomson turned over to the next page, and... he suddenly had the urge to close the sketchbook, feeling his cheeks turn red. What the hell was that?! 

Ethan slightly opened the sketchbook again and then closed it so fast, like he did the last time. He thought that there was nothing that could make him embarrassed. Well, he was wrong. 

Thomson quickly put the sketchbook back in its place and forced himself to get back to looking at the paintings. The thoughts were still coming back to Noah’s drawings, but he was trying to put them away and pay attention to the drawn waves of the sea. Finally, he succeeded, thanks to the last painting in the pile. This painting was different because it was the only one that had something else in it besides water. 

Ethan looked at the back of the canvas automatically and read the familiar phrase. 

‘Devil's'Eye'—there was the name. 

5' 8"-5' 9"

Noah understood that it was dumb to go back home just to cry. He could’ve done the same thing in any restroom at a local diner. Or in a supermarket behind the toilet paper aisle. Or he could just not cry. He was an adult, after all, he could handle his emotions. Or maybe he wasn’t mature enough to be an adult? Or was he? 

Anyway, he needed to get home to cry in Fluffy’s fur. Though he wasn’t ready for Ethan to decide to make him a company. So the plan to cry in a cat’s fur was ruined. Noah had nothing left but to hide in his bathroom. He took out a pack of cigarettes from under the towel, a lighter, and a pen. Then he sat on the cold floor and wrote a word on a cigarette, which he had desperately wanted to smoke for the last couple of hours of his life. 

‘Alzheimer'—he wrote on a cigarette before he lit it. Noah hoped that the cigarette would ease his emotions, but he was wrong. Tears started running down his cheeks when he was roughly half-done. Noah quickly turned the water on in the sink, huddled himself up in a corner of the bathroom, and smoked sobbingly. 

It wasn’t Grandma’s fault that she didn’t recognize him. And, of course, it wasn’t her fault that she mistook Ethan for Noah. It was only the illness' fault. It also wasn’t fair to blame Thomson for anything; it was tough for him, too. Still… Noah was really mad at the moment. Mad at grandmother. Mad at Ethan. What the hell?! He had been visiting her every weekend for almost two years now, and suddenly her grandchild was some random guy who looked nothing like Noah?! What the fucking hell?

After throwing the cigarette end into the toilet, Noah came to the sink and looked at his tearful reflection. Every time he would lose it, Ethan would promise himself not to do it again. It wasn’t nice for a twenty-year-old young man to cry every day. Though he couldn’t handle it for a long time. If he tried to hold it more than once, it could end with something even worse and suffocating. So, finally, Noah gave up and decided not to torture himself again. 

‘Yes, I’m a crybaby. I deserve to be one.’

After he washed his face and sprayed some air-freshener to hide the cigarette smell, Noah came out of the restroom and saw Ethan standing near the pile of his grandmother’s paintings. Fluffy was sitting a couple of feet away from Ethan and was watching him attentively. Peanut, with his paws stretched out, was sleeping on the bed peacefully, ignoring the unexpected guest. 

After hearing the sound of the door opening, Ethan turned to Noah. Just for a moment, but through the mask of coldness and boredom, there was a sign of bewilderment on his face. 

“Were you crying?” he asked with pressure. 

“What? No! Of course not!” Noah tried to laugh, “It’s just that, when I was washing my face, I got some soap in the eye,” he explained, trying to smile as wide and convincingly as he could. 

“How old are you, five?” Ethan smirked and looked back at the paintings, “They’re all amazing, every one of them.”

“Yes. I also think so. And nobody needs them besides me. As you can see, I don’t have enough space to hang all of them,” Noah made a helpless gesture, hinting at the walls, “Too sad that this freedom  that my grandmother painted on the canvas has to forever be isolated in a small apartment.” 

“That’s true. Will you give me one as a gift then, maybe?” Ethan asked. Noah couldn’t believe his ears. Neither Andrea, nor Scott, nor anyone else who had ever been in this flat, asked him that. They admired, yes, but that was it. 

“Of course!” Noah smiled sincerely this time, “You can pick anything you like!” 

“I’ve picked one already,” Ethan said, taking one of the last paintings from the pile. There was a sea in it, just like in any other painting. Though unlikely from other pictures, there were other ‘figures’ in it: a small patch of the coastline and the boy standing on it. He was facing his back. There was an enormous wave in front of him. It was about to cover the boy and take him away. There was something else in the depths of the water. Just a vague silhouette, similar to the gigantic eye that was looking at the boy. 

“Oh-h-h-h… Why this one? I’ve always thought it looked kind of creepy.”

“Your grandmother had never painted anything like that before. And only in this painting... Why?” 

Noah sighed. 

“I don’t even know... Maybe these were the first signs of her illness. Look at the name.” 

“I already did.” 

“It’s me painted in this picture. And this thing hiding in the water and resembling the eye—it is the open mouth of a giant stingray. They’re also called devilfish. However, there was no stingray at the beginning. My grandmother painted this picture a long time ago. I was little back then. Once, we went to the ocean on her birthday. She was painting, and I was running along the beach,” Noah walked down memory lane. When everything was simple and easy. With great pleasure, he would get back to those warm, sunny days, full of his grandmother’s laughter. “And when I met Andrea during my freshman year, she gave my power the name ‘Devil’s Eye’. I told my grandma about it, and she liked it. A week later, I saw her repainting this old picture. She added the stingray,” Noah touched the edge of the painting, “I don’t know whether it should be counted as a symptom of an upcoming Alzheimer, but you’re right. She hasn’t drawn anything like that, neither before nor after that.” 

“There’s something about it,” Ethan touched the little boy in the picture carefully, saying, “Like it’s a warning. Something like, ‘Don’t use this power carelessly, or else it’ll take over.’ What do you think?” 

“I’ve never thought about it this way,” Noah shrugged. 

"So, can I take it?” 

“Yes, of course. If it doesn’t confuse you, there will be a picture of me hanging somewhere in your house,” Noah chuckled sadly. 

“Should I be confused?” Ethan answered a question with a question, “Or... Are you sure that I should be confused by this  picture?” 

Noah got embarrassed and accidentally looked at his sketchbook. OH, JESUS CHRIST! WHO COULD’VE THOUGHT! What if Ethan saw it?! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!!!

“A lot of people would’ve been confused,” Noah mumbled, trying to calm himself down. No, if Ethan saw what Morgan had drawn, he wouldn’t stay in this flat. There was nothing to worry about. Then, what was Ethan hinting at? Was he even hinting?” 

“Good that I’m not one of them,” Ethan noticed, taking the canvas from the pile, “I’m the actual person.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry,” Noah wanted to go bright red with shame. Why was he always saying something awkward? 

“Did you do everything you wanted? Can we go to the art gallery?” Ethan, unlike Noah, decided not to pay attention to the awkward dialogue. 

“Oh, yes, absolutely!” Noah scurried.

“Then let’s go,” Ethan took ‘Devil’s Eye’ in his hands and went to the door. 

5' 3"

‘Closed due to technical reasons.’

The sign met Noah and Ethan instead of the open doors. 

“Due to which reasons?!” Morgan boiled over.

“Technical,” Ethan answered, and Noah looked at him with a suddenly mad glance. Then, almost immediately, his funny face changed and became sad, just as it was already usual for today. It seemed that Morgan was on the verge of crying. But Ethan didn’t feel sorry for him anymore. Noah’s innocent behavior didn’t match with the drawings in his sketchbook. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that the exhibition was closed earlier. You had to spend time with me at my grandmother’s and at my house, but then we didn’t get into the place we wanted to in the first place. 

Ethan only sighed. He couldn’t care less about the gallery. He wasn’t a gentleman of virtue, and he thought that he was completely incapable of it. He needed Morgan. He got Morgan. And his freaking sketches were a bonus, so they were stuck in his head. It was a pity that Morgan didn’t draw himself. Ethan would buy a couple of the drawings of Noah naked with great pleasure. 

“That’s okay. Some other time,” Ethan said half-heartedly. 

“It ends tomorrow. Something tells me that technical reasons won’t be solved by that time,” Morgan answered sadly, touching the closed door. 

“We can go to another exhibition,” Ethan suggested carefully. 

“We can,” Morgan said with no enthusiasm.

“But this one is special?” Thomson guessed. 

“Yes,” Noah nodded, “Every time I visited it, I imagined that there was a painting of my grandma hanging among the paintings of other great artists. It would perfectly fit into the marine theme! It would be even cooler to bring Grandma to this exhibition and show her her own painting! Can you imagine how happy she would be?”

Ethan smiled. The mix of openness and childlike innocence made Morgan especially charming. Who could’ve thought to accuse him of prostitution? It was impossible to believe in it… It's impossible if you don’t look through his sketchbook. 

“So, if the exhibition’s closed, how about coffee?” Ethan suggested before Morgan said it was time to go home. Thomson didn’t want to do that. 

“I’ll be more than happy!” Noah smiled widely. 

Of course, you will. 

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

Noah was flourishing this morning. This lovesickness completely turned his brain, and it was growing exponentially. It was threatening to grow into something, starting with the letter ‘L’. Morgan was aware of what kind of trouble he might get into. But this long-forgotten feeling made him look at these problems from another, less alarming point of view. It was pushing Morgan into a lovely world of dreams and fantasies, covering him like a soft duvet, making everything look nice and bright. Yes, if Noah got rejected, the same feeling would destroy all the bright colors, dooming Morgan to soul-searching, which, considering his character, was to last several months. He would definitely feel horrible. He would one hundred percent be hurt. There wasn’t a single doubt that he would regret meeting Ethan, and he would regret letting himself fall in love with him. 

Noah didn’t plan to refuse any of that, even under these conditions. Amorousness gave him strength to move forward, breathe deeper, and not get into everyday life problems that much. He was diving into this feeling, like into deep, dark water, on the bottom of which he could find either treasure or death. 

The morning conversation between him and his mom got partly erased since, while she was talking about her friend participating in New York Fashion Week, Noah was thinking about Ethan. While she was talking about the great deal she got for red beans, Noah was thinking about Ethan. And only after his mom mentioned Ethan... Noah finally concentrated on the conversation. 

“How is that boy you talked about last time doing?” she asked and smiled, “Have you been out on a date yet?” 

"No, it wasn’t a date,” Noah said, shaking his head. 

“What was it, then?” 

Morgan didn’t like hiding things from his mother. Considering how many secrets there still were about him despite that, he decided to be honest about Ethan. Though he regretted it almost immediately, after mentioning the retirement home, their conversation switched again to the topic of him moving to New York. 

“We live in the 21st century! You could work on your relationship with Ethan online!” 

…and not a single word about his grandmother. 

Their conversation ended with a small fight, so Noah decided to escape from the further discussion and go to the university. However, his mood was still great despite that. Even his university suddenly didn’t feel that bad, even though he was already used to thinking of it as an emotional jail. Besides, Noah was dying to tell his friends about his meeting with Ethan. They didn’t text Noah on Saturday because they probably gathered together at Scott’s after the gig and drank beer till morning, which meant they were supposed to have a terrible hangover the next day. Andrea had mentioned before that they celebrated all of their performances that way. Noah had never been invited to such parties because it was their band thing, and he wasn’t a part of that band. That was for the best. Noah didn’t think it was a healthy situation to drink with Steve. 

Morgan would’ve loved to tell his friends about Ethan on Sunday, but it didn’t work out either. Scott raised the topic of Ethan himself in their group chat of three people and stated that Ethan was a terrible bargee. Andrea, the one who would always object to her friend’s opinion, supported him awkwardly this time, calling him a ‘negative guy’. 

“He’s a troublemaker,” she said. “He’s definitely a toxic abuser!” 

Noah decided not to participate in that conversation, thinking that he would rather tell them everything in person. He was sure that Andrea and Scott would change their minds with Noah’s help—maybe not entirely, but partly for sure. 

Ethan wasn’t an abuser of any kind! Toxic? Noah couldn’t entirely understand the meaning of that characteristic. Anyway, Noah didn’t think it was fair to concentrate only on his questionable character traits. Ethan was nice. Straightforward, but fair. Unpredictable, but interesting. Noah didn’t know what to expect from him the next moment, and he liked that as well. Morgan believed that Andrea and Scott would be able to appreciate Ethan’s discreet charm; they just needed a bit more time to do that. No, Ethan wasn’t showering people with compliments. He didn’t try to hug everyone or ask what the person's favorite drink was. Though he gave the impression of a person you could trust and rely on, Ethan seemed trustworthy; wasn’t that the most important thing? 

Unfortunately, Noah didn’t share the same classes with Andrea and Scott today, so Morgan had to wait to meet his friends until lunchtime. He was even glad about it because Noah was able to use the time he usually spent talking with Scott and Andrea during class to dive into sweet fantasies about Ethan. Here Thomson broke into the classroom riding a white horse and asked Noah to be his boyfriend. Or here Ethan, after noticing that someone would start picking on Noah again, came to save him without skipping a beat. Here he decided to stand on one knee in front of him and gave him a little black box. And there was a ring inside. And Noah, just like in some YouTube or TikTok video, would cover his face and start crying because of happiness. Behind them, there would be doves flying. Or rose-leaves. Or balloons of different colors. Noah thought over every situation and liked each and every one of them.

He loved dreaming about it, but then the voice of reason stepped in. As soon as the naked truth broke into his fantasies, the beautiful picture immediately started breaking apart. Questions that were constantly swirling around Thomson would immediately start ruining everything. Ethan didn’t like being touched; did it mean that there was no hope for kisses or even sex? Did he even want to build a relationship without physical touch? If yes, was he into the guys? If so, who was his type? Did Noah have a chance? Ethan was hot-tempered and rude, but why was he always so patient and almost soft with Noah? Ethan was always tense. He was always ready for an attack. Was it somehow connected with his weird perception of rain? With kidnapping? With his relationship between him and his sister? 

Questions were undeceiving Noah, not letting him dive too deep into his fantasies and start mistaking the wish for reality. One thing was to dream about dating Ethan. Another is to actually start dating him. No, it was impossible to build a relationship with Ethan easily. Ethan loved challenges. He was making them himself. Noah, on the contrary, tried his best to escape any challenges possible. From that point of view, Morgan and Thomson didn’t make a good fit. Ethan should’ve probably been bored around Noah. And Noah should’ve been scared around Ethan. He should’ve, but... 

Morgan shook his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. Today, after he would tell his friends about the weekend with Ethan and persuade them that Thomson’s a great guy, he needed to get ready for another challenge. That challenge was Andrea, who would immediately predict their upcoming wedding. So then Noah would have to get himself together and try to be skeptical instead of approving everything Andrea would say. Even despite the fact that he had already managed to think through the whole wedding in every single detail and chosen several outfits online. 

Noah felt that it was impossible to ruin his good mood today, but, however, he had counted on his emotional state more than he should’ve. As soon as he heard an unfamiliar woman’s voice, he flinched, and his heart started beating faster. Throughout the half of the school day, he hadn’t run into any kind of rudeness, and, apparently, someone  decided to ruin it as soon as possible. 

“Hey, you!” The girl addressing Noah was a blond freshman. Because of her long extensions, her eyes seemed as big as a doll's eyes. “We’re opening a new coffee place nearby. You probably know that coffee in a cafeteria tastes awful, and from the coffee machine, it’s too expensive, right? And our coffee’s price and quality create a perfect union together!” she started rattling enthusiastically, “Do you mind if I take a picture of you holding a cup from our coffee place? I’m taking pictures of all the cute guys around the campus!” she assured Noah. 

“I don’t think I can be a good candidate for any kind of commercial,” Noah said with doubt. Was she really clueless about who he was? It couldn't be true. 

“Why not?” the girl was surprised, “You’re quite handsome! And you suit us just fine!” the freshman girl assured Noah. He got confused after that unexpected compliment. Morgan was still trying to resist when the girl made him hold an empty paper cup and, not letting him recollect himself, postured him to take a picture. Now Noah was holding a cup in his right hand, a couple of inches away from his face. He tried to look up the name of the coffee place written on it, but the girl said not to move. 

“Look in the camera and smile!” she said, setting her phone. Noah did try to smile. One single sound of a camera shot, and the girl, after she grabbed the paper cup from Noah’s hand, ran across the cafeteria, probably trying to find a new victim for her photoshoot. 

Noah thought that the situation was a bit weird but decided not to pay too much attention. The day was too good to worry too much. 

Scott and Andrea had already been waiting for him in the cafeteria. They weren’t alone. Nicole decided to join them today. Noah couldn’t call her a close friend. She was more of a close acquaintance who could appear in their lives once every several months. Apparently, Nicole was Noah’s school friend’s sister. His name was Nicolas. They were quite close back in high school. And then Noah got into Caltech, while Nicolas got into MIT. He was always interested in astronomy, and MIT was considered to be one of the best universities in that field of study. Despite the charm of online communication, Noah and Nicolas didn’t manage to keep in touch; however, they became closer with his twin sister Nicole. Words couldn’t express how happy and surprised Noah was to run into a familiar face the second week after the beginning of the semester. 

Nicole chose a different department, but her building was relatively close to the art department. She was a nice girl, but she seemed to Morgan to be a bit out of this world. She seemed to be only partly focused on the person she was talking to, leaving the rest of her mind thinking about other stuff that was not understandable for others. 

Andrea was sipping her smoothie, Scott was picking at spaghetti on his plate, and Nicole was, as was common for her, hypnotizing the pile with her notes, sipping coffee. Though, as soon as Noah came to their table, she glanced at him with her dark-brown, expressive eyes. Her look also seemed unusual to Noah. It wasn’t empty, no, but it seemed to be focused on something different from Noah, Andrea, and Scott. 

“Hi!” she eagerly greeted Noah first. 

“Hi,” Morgan nodded and sat down at the table, “It’s been a while, Nicole!”

“That’s right!” she agreed, “Studies are killing me!” she stated. 

“You’ve been complaining about it for three years now. If it’s really killing you, then it’s happening sadistically slowly,” Morgan laughed. 

“That’s true! The university is pure sadism. They’re torturing us, and we’re paying them for it!” Nicole made a helpless gesture, and it just looked so funny, “I shouldn’t have gone to Caltech! I overestimated myself!”

“You’ve been saying this same thing for three years, too,” Noah noticed, “And yet you’ve been passing all of your exams.”

“Barely,” Nicole sighed and pressed her forehead against her notes, “Just kill me already; I can’t handle it anymore!” she said dramatically. In response, Noah put his hand on the back of her head and patted her gently, trying to show some support. Andrea and Scott were silent. They didn’t pay any attention to Nicole, both giving Noah a gimlet gaze instead. He did try to ignore friends’ weird behavior, but he couldn’t last even a couple of minutes. 

“What?” he finally asked. 

“What?” Nicole asked, not understanding what was going on. 

“I’m listening,” Andrea said strictly, crossing her arms. She looked like a mean teacher who wasn’t satisfied with the test result and demanded to explain why the result was so bad. 

“About what?” Noah frowned, opening one of the buns that he’d bought. 

“About what’s going on between you and Ethan?” she narrowed her eyes, “And why do I know nothing about it?” she sounded offended. 

“Maybe because there’s nothing going on between us?” Noah suggested with a smile. He wasn’t even lying. There was nothing going on, indeed. He just introduced Ethan to his grandmother, which he had done neither with Andrea, nor with Scott, nor even with his ex. He let Ethan see his flat, though Noah had never invited people he didn’t know well, because he was worried about the paintings. He also gave Ethan one of the paintings as a present, which seemed almost unreal. And then, after it turned out that they couldn’t go to the exhibition, they stopped by one of the nice little romantic coffee places, and they stayed there almost until their closing time. And, apparently, Noah couldn’t understand where the time went, considering that Ethan wasn’t a talkative person and loved to answer the questions simply. Noah, though, felt extremely embarrassed, so he remained silent most of the time. However, the silence wasn’t giving any pressure. Noah liked it. He would happily do it again. 

“You can’t fool me,” Andrea wasn’t impressed by Noah’s answer, “If there was nothing, why would you spend the whole Saturday together?” 

“Why do you think we were together?” Noah was shocked. 

“Because I found Ethan’s Instagram account,” Andrea stated, tossing her head. 

“What?” Noah couldn’t believe his ears. Ethan and Instagram—two words that he wasn’t ready to hear in the same sentence. "What are you trying to say?” he asked, alarmed. Andrea looked at him suspiciously, trying to figure out whether he was really shocked. Probably Noah’s lost look convinced her enough to believe him. 

“So he didn’t tell you that he was taking pictures of you? I’m not even sure whether it’s cute or creepy,” she mumbled and started looking something up on her phone. Noah was still trying to process information that Ethan had an Instagram account, and, what was even more shocking, that he was posting something in it. Thomson seemed against any kind of social media platform. 

“Here, look,” Andrea handed her phone over to Noah with the opened account. There were seventy-three followers and more than a thousand posts. The last seven were definitely posted after meeting Noah, even though he was only vaguely in the pictures.

All the pictures looked hazy, but they were somehow charming. There was a picture of a glass in the bar, in the reflection of which you could see a silhouette of Morgan approaching. Then there was a picture of a sign of ‘I want you deadly’, and in the corner of that picture was Noah’s shoulder. There was a picture in the car where you could see Noah’s knee in the corner. Another picture with a paper cup that Noah was holding in his hands. A picture of emerald green grass in the retirement home with Noah’s feet wearing sneakers. The pictures might’ve been taken accidentally if they weren’t all the same. How did he even have time to take all of those pictures? When and why? Noah’s back, a pavilion in the background, where his grandmother was painting. Here Fluffy was looking into the camera suspiciously. It did look weird. Though it looked rather confusing. It seemed that Ethan was looking at Noah more than he had thought. More often and with a lot more attention. 

Noah scrolled down his profile to look through the other Thomson’s posts. Ethan preferred taking pictures of things or animals. There were no people in his profile, as you would usually see them. There were only those hazy pictures, rarely. A similar picture that could slightly tell there was another person besides the photographer appeared only a year ago. If somebody followed Ethan’s social media, they would definitely spot the difference. 

Noah repeated Ethan’s nickname several times in his head so that he could look it up at home, and then he gave Andrea her phone back. He could ask his friend to send him a link, but he didn’t want to excite her curiosity even more.

“So was it a date?” Andrea didn’t even think of changing the subject. Noah answered stiffly with no details and told about his weekend together with Ethan. He would’ve told her that information anyway, but the feeling that he was obliged  to tell her made him mad. His rushed story didn’t impress his friends. Each minute, Andrea was frowning even more. 

“You like him, don’t you?” she asked with a dark voice. 

“Like? He’s in love!” Nicole screamed and clapped her hands, “Oh my God, Noah, I’m so happy for you!” she said that and grabbed Morgan’s hand. Her eyes remained calm, though. Probably at that exact moment, half of Nicole’s brain was trying to solve some puzzle. Or maybe it was thinking about a project. Or maybe it was dreaming of finally getting enough sleep. Dark circles under her eyes were clearly showing how sleep-deprived she actually was. Despite that, she looked really happy for her friend Noah. However, Andrea and Scott didn’t look so cheerful. 

“Ah-h-h, Uhm-m-m…” Noah got embarrassed under his friend’s stare, and this was better than any possible answer. 

“Oh my God!” Andrea groaned and covered her face. Considering her reaction, Noah was, at least, a person who had hit the cat-father of the whole breeding of kittens with his truck the other day. Or a baby deer. Or like he had cooked soup with human meat. Anyway, it was something so horrible that only Hannibal Lecter and Hitler would have given him a hi-five. 

“But it was you who told me I should meet someone,” Noah mentioned carefully. Ethan was a bit rude in ‘I want you deadly’, but not as rude to immediately get into the persona non grata  list. 

“But not Ethan!” Andrea cried out desperately. 

“What do you mean, not Ethan, if you said exactly the opposite?” Noah frowned, “After all, you asked me to invite him to your gig. And you were right. There were more people than usual. You got what you wanted. Did you really hope that Ethan would bow and scrape before you? On what grounds? You were perfectly aware that he wasn’t the sweetest guy. It was obvious he wouldn’t just shower you with compliments.”

“But…” Andrea got confused, “I didn’t think at that time that he was so... negative,” she mumbled. 

“He’s not negative. He’s straightforward,” Noah protested, “and I see nothing bad about it.” 

“He’s a bargee and a scrapper,” Scott shared his point of view. 

“Who are you talking about?” Nicole was looking from one to another, absentmindedly.

“About Ethan Thomson,” Andrea sighed.

“Oh, that guy from the law department who always wears a mask and gloves?” Apparently, Ethan was a household name, “People say he’s so-o-o-o-o-o cute! Just a super-cutie-pie !” 

Noah tried to picture the look on Ethan’s face if he heard that super-cutie-pie . He didn’t succeed. One thing Morgan couldn’t doubt was that there would be a lot of blood. 

“Do people say that he’s fucking nuts?” Scott grunted. 

“He’s not nuts,” Noah suddenly sounded angry, “What’s your problem with him? Why are you trash-talking right now?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s said so much shit about our band!” Scott threw his hands up.

“Really? Wasn’t he right, though? Are you aware that you’re not Imagine Dragons?” Noah hissed, and only afterwards did he understand what he had just said. Scott hated Imagine Dragons, so Morgan’s comparison was similar to saying something like, ‘You’re a million times worse than someone you don’t like.’

Scott’s face fell, and Noah felt embarrassed and ashamed. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said in a different tone, “I don’t know what came over me. I was unfair. I’m sorry.” 

“That’s okay,” Scott sounded tense, “You’re right, we play bad. But Thomson could’ve said it more carefully. Or he could’ve kept his valuable opinion to himself. We can handle our shit on our own,” Scott admitted, “What about you and your behavior, you’re just confirming our worst expectations.”

“What expectations?” Noah didn’t get it. 

“That Thomson's going to be a bad influence for you. He is already,” Andrea said quietly, “Noah, you’re not yourself. We’re worried about you.” 

Morgan tried his best to subdue the new surge of anger and said, under breath, 

“Don’t worry. I’m fine. Nobody influences me.”

“The same thing happened last time,” Andrea said reproachfully.

“What do you mean by 'the same’?” Noah darkened. 

“When you had a crush on Matthew, you were lost in your feelings for him so much that you almost stopped talking to us. Even though Scott and I had been warning you that he was a sketchy guy.” 

Andrea was right. They did warn him. But Noah suddenly had the urge to say, ‘Ethan’s different.’ The words remained unspoken, and Noah exhaled to recollect himself. 

“This time, I won’t make the same mistake,” he promised. 

“Wait a second, I don’t get it,” Nicole mumbled and yawned, “Who’s into Thomson after all? You’re talking about Noah, but the person who invited him in the first place was Andrea. And Andrea was the one to find his Instagram account. I'm confused,” she said, shaking her head. 

“Hm…” Scott looked at his friend, “Seriously, though. Why were you trying to find his Instagram account? How did you manage to do it, since Thomson doesn’t have a single picture of himself in his profile? It couldn’t just pop up in your feed.” 

“Well, he’s… Ugh…” it was Andrea’s turn to feel embarrassed now. 

“And usually I’m the one to grumble like an old man, while you’re always on Noah’s side,” Scott continued his line of reasoning, “Even about Matt, I was basically trying to warn Noah alone,” Noah frowned, recalling those times. He was right. Scott was bitching, while Andrea was trying to remain neutral, “You also liked Thomson, didn’t you?” 

Andrea gaped her eyes and opened her mouth to object, but words stuck in her throat. Then she looked frightened at Noah. 

“That’s not true!” she assured Morgan. 

“Are you sure?’ Scott asked ironically, “Everything's just as usual.”

“He’s not my type. I like tall and muscular guys,” Andrea said in a heartbreaking manner. 

“And you also like distant guys. And Thomson is one of the most distant guys possible,” Scott pressed his point, “That’s why she asked you to invite Ethan to the gig,” he nodded at Noah, “She wanted to get to know him better. It’s a pity he turned out to be gay,” Scott didn’t even try to hide his triumph. 

“Not necessarily…” Noah mumbled, trying to process what was happening. Him and Andrea liking the same guy? It was his worst nightmare!

“Not necessarily? Are there any other reasons why he preferred you over Andrea?” Scott sounded truly surprised. 

Noah froze for a moment. 

“Excuse me?” he forced out the question, feeling anger grow and his hands shaking. Scott got embarrassed after he understood the nonsense he had said. Andrea shook up, “I’m not worse than any of you,” Morgan said coldly, “It’s not necessary to be gay and sexually objectify me in order to talk to me.”

“Noah, we know that. We’re your friends!” Andrea exclaimed, “God, what are we doing? We shouldn’t have fought over some guy!”

“I’m not fighting with you. You, on the other hand, grabbed Ethan like a vice,” Noah muttered. 

“We’re afraid he’s going to hurt you,” Andrea said, sounding tired. 

“Nobody’s going to hurt me,” Noah insisted. 

“Sure. Tell Matthew about it. Did you forget that when you broke up, you were sitting at home for almost a month? And the only thing you did at that time was cry on our hands,” Scott reminded. Morgan felt dizzy. There was a lump in his throat. 

“I didn’t leave my house, not because of a breakup but because of those damn rumors!” he exhaled. 

“Yes. And you shouldn’t forget that Andrea and I were the only people to support you at that time.” 

“H-h-e-ey,” Nicole protested to show that everybody forgot about her. However, she was so busy at the university at that time that she found out about the whole situation only several months later. 

“So?” Noah was looking back and forth at Scott and Andrea, not noticing Nicole trying to be a part of a conversation, “Did you do me a favor by believing in the truth?" 

“Don’t exaggerate it,” Andrea asked.

“We were always on your side and didn’t step aside even when those swirling rumors started affecting us,” Scott grunted. 

It was a boiling point. Noah stood up and stuffed all of the buns in his backpack. 

“Noah, stop throwing a temper tantrum!” Andrea demanded. 

“I’m not throwing a tantrum. Apparently, I’m releasing you from the biggest problem of your life.”

“It's not like that!” Andrea shook her head. 

“Stop being a drama queen,” Scott advised. 

‘Devil’s Eye’ was scanning friends’ faces and saw nothing. However, Noah knew their weak spots perfectly well. There was so much offensive stuff he wanted to say to ruin their relationships completely. 

‘You’ll regret it,’  the inner voice reminded him, sobering Morgan up. He casually swallowed the insult, understanding that they were, at least partly, right. They were right that Noah got them into a lot of trouble. They were right that Noah was supposed to appreciate that they didn’t turn their backs on him. 

Appreciate it, but not make religion of it. 

Noah took his backpack and rushed through the cafeteria towards the exit. Andrea and Scott didn’t follow him. However, Nicole caught him outside the door. 

“I… I’ve no idea what just happened,” she made a helpless gesture, confused, “But I feel that it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s not your fault at all,” Noah said. 

“But I…” Nicole stuttered, “I was the one to ask that stupid question. God, I’m so dumb, Noah! I’m so dumb!” 

“Nicole, calm down. Our fight with Scott and Andrea doesn’t have anything to do with you,” he assured, “I’m sorry, but I gotta go. My next class starts soon.”

It was a lie. He had forty more minutes that he decided to spare on a bench near a little pond on campus. Halfway there, his phone buzzed, showing there was a new message. Noah looked at the screen and somehow wasn’t surprised at all after seeing a new post with him in the main role in the anonymous chat. 

‘Oh, so that’s why...’ he thought, turned around, and headed to his flat, not the pond. The pond was nice, but Noah preferred crying peacefully at home. 

5' 3"

“Don’t hang up,” Ethan asked instead of a greeting. 

“Will you ever stop calling me from the unknown numbers?” he heard the annoyed voice say, “That’s not okay.”

“If I called from my phone, you wouldn’t pick up,” Ethan noticed while trying to recall whether he had ever done it before. He hadn’t. It was the first time. 

“Of course,” a metallic voice answered. 

“Audrey, please…”

“What do you want from me?” his sister decided to show mercy. 

“Do you remember the anniversary is on Friday?”

“Who do you think I am?” Audrey flushed with anger, “Of course, I remember,” she added more quietly. 

“Let’s go there together.” 

“No.” 

“Please.”

“I have nothing to do there with you. I’d rather go alone.” 

“Audrey.” 

“I said what I said.” 

“Audrey, please…” 

“And tell Duncan that if he tells you my number one more time, I’ll cut the connections with him, too. I swear, I’ll find a way to disappear!” 

Ethan didn’t have time to excuse the bodyguard since he heard her hang up before he could open his mouth. If Audrey hadn’t hung up, she would’ve found out that Duncan was innocent and knew nothing about this call. His only mistake was that he trusted Noah too much and couldn’t imagine him getting into his phone in order to get his sister’s number. However, Ethan did that. The anniversary was too important for him. 

Still, he didn’t succeed. 

“Stubborn, as usual?” his father tried to smile at Ethan, though his eyes looked deeply sad. 

“Yes,” Thomson nodded and put away a disposable phone he bought on the way home. “It was a hard day today. I should go,” Ethan said and stood up from the table, leaving his dinner untouched, “I lost appetite. I’ll eat something later,” he said, feeling he wouldn’t be able to eat a single bite. His father nodded understandably and didn’t try to make his son stay any longer. 

Only after he locked the door did Ethan let himself take the mask and the gloves off. He threw them on the table, fell flat on his pillow, and laid still for some time. Thomson was trying to get rid of depressing thoughts, but Audrey wouldn’t get off his head. After he understood it was impossible to deal with his depressed mood on his own, Ethan took his phone out and opened TalkPanik. After he returned from the meeting with Morgan, the first thing he did was subscribe to the university’s anonymous chat. He felt he needed to know all the new rumors that were starting around him and swirling around Morgan. There was a new notification in the chat. Ethan opened it and frowned. A new post about Morgan appeared earlier that day. There was a picture and a caption. Morgan was holding a paper cup and smiling openly in the picture. Ethan recognized the paper cup. It was taken from one of the university’s coffee places. Originally, it was saying ‘Really Good Coffee’, but with the help of a white and a black marker, the name was corrected, so it turned out to be ‘Anally Good’. There was a white arrow underneath, pointing at Morgan. The caption said,

‘The King of Anal Sex is back in business. Don’t forget to make your appointment! There isn’t much time available!’

And then there was Morgan’s phone number. 

The real phone number. 

Well, that sucked. 

Ethan immediately tried calling Noah, but the phone was busy. He waited for a minute and tried calling again. It was busy again. There was no doubt Morgan’s phone had been ringing off the hook for the last couple of hours. Only God knew how it could end up. 

Ethan tried to reach Noah for the third time. Still pointless. 

“Call me as soon as you can,” Ethan sent Morgan a voicemail and waited. Ten minutes later, he saw the incoming call.

“Hey, did something happen?” Morgan exhaled on the phone. Right, he probably thought that Ethan didn’t follow the chat, so he didn’t know what was going on. 

Thomson noticed both Noah’s wooly voice and a slightly thick tongue. 

“Yes,” Ethan said, “There’s another nasty post about you.” 

“God, did you follow that stupid chat? Why?” 

“To know when I need to call you,” Ethan replied. Morgan suddenly became silent. They both listened to the silence for a couple of seconds. Ethan broke it. 

“You were crying,” Thomson acknowledged.

“A little,” Noah didn’t even try to refuse. 

“And drinking.” 

“To stop crying.” 

“I’m coming over,” Ethan said, getting up from the bed. 

“W…why?” Morgan stuttered. Ethan heard tension in his voice and could easily picture the suspicions torturing Noah at that moment. He really wanted to trust Ethan, but, thanks to the circumstances, he wasn’t always capable of that. 

“You feel bad—that’s why,” Thomson replied, putting his mask and gloves back on. 

“I don’t want you to deal with my problems. You don’t need to come over,” Noah wasn’t joking and wasn’t trying to build himself up. He was serious. Ethan bit his lip nervously. He didn’t want to confess, but there was no other way Noah would let him into his house. 

“I also feel…shitty,” he said quietly, “I don’t want to sit at home thinking over my problems. I’d rather talk shit about your haters.” 

“Are you crazy? They’ll start hating both of us.” 

“Let them risk it if they wish.” 

“We’re those who’re risking,” he heard the husky voice. 

Ethan tasted blood. He should’ve stopped biting his lip. 

“Trust me,” he asked. 

“I trust you. But all these people around... You don’t know what to expect.” 

“That’s right. But you’re missing one thing. They don’t know what to expect from us, either.” 

There was a nervous chuckle. 

“I’ve already drowned in this, though; you shouldn’t get yourself dirty. Don’t make your life more complicated,” Noah advised. 

“The only person who’s making my life more complicated right now is you.” 

“How do I make it more complicated?” Morgan tried to sound exasperated. Even then, he was still trying to joke. 

“Because you don’t let me come over.”

“Can someone really not let you do something?” Noah chuckled. 

“Yes. You can.” 

“It seems like you gave me permission not to give you permission,” he heard after a short pause. 

“That’s exactly what I did,” Ethan agreed, and he heard a ringing laugh. 

“Okay. If you want to watch me cry into my cat’s fur, you can come over,” Morgan finally showed mercy, “It’s not to everyone’s taste, though, but what if you liked it?”

“I only like positive tears.”

"Like, because of happiness?” 

“Like because of an orgasm,” Ethan said, going downstairs and coming up against his father, who froze in the middle of a hallway with his coffee mug half-way to his mouth. “I’m leaving,” Ethan said, not noticing how dark the silence on the other end of the line was, “And, please, don’t make Duncan follow me,” Ethan asked more quietly, covering his phone. 

“When are you coming back?”

“I don’t know.” 

“So, you’re going to that ‘friend’,” his father mentioned matter-of-factly. 

“Don’t start that,” Ethan frowned and took his hand off the phone, coming back to Noah. 

“I’m sorry, my father distracted me. Where were we?” 

“Uhm… When… When are you gonna be here?”

“I’m already at my car,” Ethan said, holding his keys. 

“Wow, you’re fast.” 

“Only in things where it’s necessary.” 

Noah seemed to start coughing. Or choking. What was he doing? 

“May I ask you about something then?” a husky voice said. 

“Yes, you may.” 

“Can you stop by Baskin-Robbins?” 

“Are you one of those people who are stress-eating ice cream?”

“Guilty.” 

“What flavor?” 

“Hm… What flavor do you like?” 

“I don’t eat sweets; did you forget?” 

“At all?” 

“I could steal a couple of spoons from yours,” Ethan gave up. 

“Then get some praline’s ice cream. Or some baseball nut.”

Ethan smiled unintentionally. 

“I’ll get both.” 

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

That compulsive cleaning attempt was a true challenge for a person who had recently been crying his eyes out until he got a headache and drank more alcohol than he originally planned. Dirty clothes didn’t fit into the basket, and the number of things that weren’t in their place made Morgan grunt through his teeth helplessly. Noah wasn’t a messy person, but sometimes he became so apathetic that even simple chores, like running a washing machine or cleaning the table, felt too difficult—almost impossible for him. Then his flat would become a chaotic mess. 

During the past half of the day, Noah didn’t have much time to destroy the flat, so much so that it needed a deep clean. Though, in Morgan’s opinion, it was too dirty to host the guests. That was what he was trying to fix right now. Noah cleaned the table, stuffed the clothes into the half-empty drawers, and started doing the dishes when the doorbell rang. Noah flinched, turned off the water, and shuffled to open the door. He would run to Ethan, but he felt too dizzy. Morgan was about to open the door when he froze and looked in the peephole cautiously. His phone number was leaked online today, so he wouldn’t be surprised if his address was next in line. However, there was no one outside the door, besides bored Ethan. Noah opened the door and tried to smile. He was truly happy to see Thomson, even though his mood was, more or less, down in the dumps and his eyes were still a bit red. 

“Hi,” Ethan nodded and gave Morgan a bag with ice cream. 

“Hey, come in,” Noah stepped aside to give Ethan space to enter, “Would you like something to drink? I have a half bottle of wine left,” Morgan suggested while going to the table to unpack the ice cream. He was drunk, but he tried his best to look sober. It wasn’t his first bottle of wine that he had already finished that night. Everything would sometimes get blurry in front of Noah. He put all his effort into not losing balance. The same effort helped Morgan walk straight; however, because of the alcohol, Noah felt his apartment moving like a ship’s cabin that ended up in a storm. 

“I don’t drink,” Ethan reminded calmly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Noah mumbled embarrassedly. Thomson could get the impression that Morgan would never listen to him and didn’t remember anything about him. That, of course, wasn’t true. Noah listened to him carefully. Noah remembered everything. He didn’t like sweets. He didn’t drink alcohol. He liked his coffee salted. At that moment, Morgan thought of himself as a hard-working student who had studied thoroughly for the exam but forgot everything because his examiner was too handsome. 

Ethan didn’t seem offended; he just shrugged his shoulders. 

“Maybe some coffee then? Or tea? Or some juice?” Morgan scurried as much as he could in his condition. 

“Tea is fine,” Ethan chose. 

“Green or black?” 

“Black.” 

“With or without sugar?” 

“Obviously, no sugar.” 

“Hot or diluted?” 

“Hot,” Ethan answered, observing Noah carefully, “Don’t be nervous.” 

“I’m not nervous,” Morgan answered nervously. 

“You’re all wrought up,” Ethan objected. Noah looked at him and felt a lump growing in his throat again. No, he wasn’t about to cry in front of Ethan. He had cried enough, feeling sorry for himself. He didn’t want to do it publicly. He didn’t want Ethan to come up to him and promise to protect him from all of that. He didn’t want Thomson to hug Noah and rumple his hair reassuringly. He didn’t want support, a human's touch, or even the slightest feeling of safety. 

Noah didn’t want all of that. 

Noah was lying to himself brutally. 

Morgan inhaled soundly, trying to balance his emotional state. To slow himself down. He would always do that when he understood that he was balancing on the verge of hysteria. He slowed himself down. His moves would become voluntarily slower. His breath was calm. His thoughts were simple. He forced his internal breaks to stop a stimulus to make fast or nervous moves, since that could only emphasize the excitability of his nervous system. Noah made Ethan some tea calmly, feeling the storm inside him slowing down. The joy didn’t last long, though. Noah’s phone was lying on the table with the screen facing down. It was muted. However, the screen would flare up every time there was an incoming phone, which was visible because of the frame of light between the phone and the table. It had already appeared several times, and Noah, after noticing it again, couldn’t deal with that internal pressure anymore. His heart started banging like a drum, his hands were shaking, and tears, like fire, were coming up. Noah immediately switched his attention to the phone. To that anonymous chat. To all of the mocking that he had been bearing way too long. Why was it happening to him? Why did he deserve all of that? Noah went deep into his thoughts so fast that he completely forgot about the tea cup that he was holding in his hands. 

Ethan asked for hot tea.

Morgan could feel how well he fulfilled his wish after he accidentally poured some tea onto his chest. 

The next moment, a strangled cry came out of Noah’s mouth, then he handed the cup to Ethan, took his t-shirt instinctively, and stared at a little red circle on his chest. 

“Damn it,” he mumbled resentfully. The burn wasn’t big (thanks to Morgan’s reaction), but the situation itself was dumb. 

“Do you pour liquids on yourself as a little hobby?” he heard a question coming from Ethan. The question didn’t surprise Noah; it was in Thomson’s style. There was another thing that surprised him. Ethan’s voice suddenly sounded husky. Some sort of broken tone. And Noah had never heard that tone coming from Thomson before. Morgan glanced at his guest unintentionally and faced darkness in his eyes. It felt like Noah was looking into two black holes that were sucking up everything they faced. 

“Yes, I’m clumsy,” Noah mumbled mindlessly, understanding only moments later that he had been standing half-naked in front of Ethan. If Morgan was sober, he would go bright red with shame. Noah felt that nothing in his figure could be considered attractive. Once his dad told him he looked like Jack Skellington from ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas.’ Noah was happy about becoming suddenly skinny before that comparison. However, afterward, he started to feel ashamed of it and hid it constantly, for example, by wearing wide kimono shirts. He would happily wear baggy jeans, but they looked weird on him since he basically had no butt. 

Noah rushed to his wardrobe, threw the dirty t-shirt on one of the shelves (tomorrow he planned to put it where it belonged, in a basket for dirty clothes), and took out another one. He was facing his back to Ethan the whole time, trying not to ask himself what Ethan’s look meant and whether he was looking at Morgan right now. Noah assured himself that he wasn’t.

“How did you manage to keep such light skin over the summer? Did you stay at home the whole time?”

So, Ethan was looking at him.

“Tan doesn’t stick to me.” 

“At all?” Ethan’s volume of voice made it clear that he came closer to Noah. “I think I can see every vein,” Morgan burnt his chest, but, for some reason, his shoulder blades were burning. He felt goosebumps on his back. Noah could almost physically feel Thomson’s sharp, tenacious gaze. 

“Please, don’t look,” Noah asked, though he was ready for the question like, ‘Why? We’re both guys,’ or, ‘Who cares about you?’

Surprisingly, he heard Thomson’s guilty voice saying ‘sorry’. When Morgan turned back to Ethan, he wasn’t looking at him but at his phone that he flipped the other side up. There was an incoming call from the unknown number on the screen. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Noah tried to sound careless, “He isn’t the first, and he isn’t the last one.” 

Morgan should’ve definitely turned off his phone so that those calls wouldn’t torture him, but he just couldn’t dare to do that. What if his parents called? They would freak out if the phone was unavailable. Or what if there was something wrong with his grandmother? Noah would never forgive himself if he missed the call from the retirement home. Also, Andrea could call. Or Scott. However, it was just dumb to keep the phone on for these people. 

Ethan took Noah’s phone, and, before he managed to say something, he answered it.

“Ethan Thomson’s listening. Before you start speaking, I need to inform you that this conversation is being recorded, and everything you say may be used later in court against you.” 

The conversation ended before it had even started. The caller didn’t want to continue it, so he hung up. 

“Wow, good job!” Noah couldn’t help but admire, “With all that strict voice!” 

“Really?’ Ethan frowned, “I think that I’m not persuasive  enough.” 

“Trust me, you were damn persuasive!” Noah smiled, sat down at the table, and reached for one of the buckets of ice cream. He had to pay attention to the treat before it melted completely. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to practice on your ‘admirers’ to arouse fear and respect. Sometimes it seems impossible to do that considering my appearance,” Thomson chuckled, “In the beginning.” 

“No way! Then you’ll be glad to know that I’ve heard only creepy rumors about you,” Noah noticed casually, and then he added, “Oh, I’m sorry. I know only too well the price of these rumors.” 

“Don’t be sorry. I’m actually glad to hear that,” Ethan answered, and then took his mask off to sip his tea. The screen lit up with another call. 

“Ethan Thomson’s listening,” he said, but this time he preferred to pause after that. Ethan was clearly interested in what was going to happen, “If so, then what?” he asked coldly after a couple of seconds, “Hopefully, you aren’t so stupid to call from your personal number, are you? Because if you are, then I’ll find you, and I’ll ruin your life,” he said casually. Noah was drinking wine straight from the bottle at the moment, so he choked on the first sip after he heard that. 

“What did they say?” Noah asked. 

“Do you really want to know?” Ethan frowned. Morgan nodded, “Firstly, he asked whether I’m fucking you,” Ethan bent his index finger, “And then he asked me to share you with him,” he said, benting his middle finger. Thomson’s voice remained calm. The slight huskiness was gone. But the tone changed again. And it made a huge impression on Noah. 

“I don’t think you should answer the phone anymore,” he mumbled, taking another big spoonful of ice cream. 

“Why? You don’t like that I don’t try to break the rumor about us having sex?”

Now Noah choked on his ice cream. 

“No, that’s not what I’m worried about,” he said, shaking his head and exhaling. “Those rumors will do no good to you.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“How can you be so sure?”

“Normal people would never do such bullshit. Do you know who usually becomes a bully? A weak person. An insecure piece of rag. Some mentally unstable idiots Just crap instead of a human. I can handle one or two of those retards.” 

“What if there are more than a couple of retards?”

“I still have a knife.” 

“What if a knife isn’t enough?” Noah kept pursuing his line. 

“Then I’ll get beaten up. Or humiliated. Or killed,” Ethan listed monotonously. 

“Or…you could be…well…” Morgan couldn't say out loud the first thing that came to his mind. 

“Is it the thing you’re the most afraid of?” Thomson asked without hesitation. He just looked at Noah closely, like he was trying to find out something else behind his words. Something that Morgan had never said before. 

“Yes. Considering my reputation… I’ve…I’ve read about such cases.”

“Have you ever heard of Shanda Sharer’s murder?” Ethan asked suddenly. Noah shook his head, “It was quite a high-profile murder case. She was twelve years old. She was tortured and burned to death by four teenage girls. It happened in the 90s, in Madison, Indiana.” 

“Oh my God…” 

“Do you think she was guilty of something? Do you think she did something offensive to those teenagers? A child who was only twelve years old?” 

“I…No. I don’t think so.” 

“Maybe we should avoid all the teenage girls then?” 

“No. I… Well…”

“Maybe you’ve heard about the murder of the Krim siblings?”

“I haven’t.” 

“It happened on the Upper West Side of Manhattan in New York City. It was a center of culture and progress. Or it was supposed to be one. The children’s part-time caretaker, Yoselyn Ortega, killed two out of three siblings. Their mother found them in the bathroom. The oldest daughter was stabbed thirty times. The youngest son—five times.” 

“I don’t understand, why are you…” 

“Does it mean we will never hire a babysitter if we decide to have kids together?”

“Wh…what?” Noah stuttered. 

“And what about the 1991 Austin yogurt shop killings? Four girls between thirteen and seventeen years old were killed in Austin, Texas. At least one of them was raped. The quadruple homicide remains unsolved. I doubt that the girls did something provocative. Something to deserve that. Are we going to boycott all frozen yogurt places to avoid the same destiny?” 

Noah felt nauseous. He didn’t want to hear that. After every Ethan’s word, he pictured the events he was talking about, and he was terrified. 

“Why are you telling me all of that?” Noah uttered, holding the spoon so hard that his knuckles became white. 

“So that you understand that shitty people have and always will be around us. You don’t even have to provoke them. Getting to the wrong place at the wrong time would be enough. It’s okay to be scared. However, it’s not okay not to defend yourself but to sit down under insults. As if that was how it should be. Like if you deserved it.” 

“I didn’t deserve it,” Noah said quietly. 

“I know,” Ethan nodded. 

“I’ll think about what you’ve said,” Noah promised, picking at his ice cream, “But don’t do anything, okay? I don’t want you to get involved in all of this shit.” 

“I’m already involved. And not by you,” Ethan smirked and answered the new call. “Ethan Thomson’s listening. Oh, such an interesting question. They’re asking what color of underwear you’re wearing right now,” he glanced at Noah, “There’s no color. He prefers being naked when I’m around.” 

This time, Ethan was the first one to hang up. 

“Goodness!” Noah groaned, closing his eyes, “It’s both funny and horrible at the same time!” he said and took a sip of wine. 

“My biggest strength is turning problems into a circus,” Thomson said, not so cheerfully now. 

“I bet you’ll look amazing in court,” Noah assured him, finally getting back to his ice cream, “Oh my God, it’s so delicious!” he moaned, “How is it even possible to resist that kind of treat?” 

“Why would you need to resist?” 

“Because of that,” Noah said, touching pimples on his cheeks, “My friends think I might have acne because of all the junk I eat.” 

“Friends,” Ethan narrowed his eyes, “Those friends who’re not even here today?” 

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When Ethan was on the phone with Morgan, he understood that Noah was dealing with another stroke of misfortune all alone. Thomson was happy about this new opportunity to spend some time together with Noah, but he felt a bit sorry for him. Why was he the only one to come over? Ethan wanted to ask about it earlier, but Noah took off his t-shirt… Everything that happened later was like a fog. Now he needed to hide what he’d seen deep down in his memory. So deep, Ethan wouldn’t be able to find these memories himself to… make them dirty .

Just breathe in and out and control your damn body.

Damn body.

Goddamn body.

Noah’s pale skin looked so thin that bruises or red spots could easily blossom with the slight pressure of fingers or…ropes. It was a pure canvas, created to draw a masterpiece on it. Ethan tried to imagine how Noah’s skin felt. Probably soft and warm. 

Stupid, stupid body!

He needed to distract himself as soon as possible. 

The conversation continued, but Ethan paid only eighty percent of his attention to it. The rest of the twenty were dedicated to Morgan’s neck. Veins were covering his hands. Why hadn't Thomson paid more attention to all of that before? And why was he doing it now? He couldn’t erase it from his memory. And these pictures could make Ethan suffer in agony for more than a single night. Only something way more shocking than seeing Noah’s naked back could possibly overtop it. Luckily, the opportunity appeared soon. 

“So, where are your shallow, extravagant girlfriend and that shitty guy who looks like a rat?” Ethan chuckled, but asked Morgan to forgive him in his head at the same time. 

‘It’s better if we get into a fight than if I allow myself to think about him,’ he thought. However, he still hoped that their conflict wasn’t going to have a big impact on their future relationship. 

“What did you just say?” Noah dropped his ice cream spoon and stared at Ethan differently than before. The tearful look was gone. There was nothing but pure anger in Morgan’s eyes. It was definitely the result Thomson had hoped for. 

“Did I stutter?” Ethan asked innocently. Noah jumped from his chair, put his hands on the table, and reached closer to Thomson. A stretched neck hole in a t-shirt slacked off, revealing too much for Ethan. 

‘God! Say something that will distract me from… you !’ Ethan cried out in his mind, understanding that the situation was only getting worse. 

“Don’t you dare say something about my friends ever again!” Morgan growled. Protecting others so passionately yet giving up when it concerns you?  Ethan couldn’t understand his point. Despite that, Thomson admitted that this Noah’s character trait seemed attractive to him. This trait, and many others. 

“You mean don’t tell the truth? Sorry, I can’t do that,” Ethan continued his provocative line. 

“You… You’re sometimes unbearable!” Noah exclaimed almost desperately. 

“Sometimes isn’t the right word,” Ethan shook his head, “Always.” 

“Are you okay with it?” 

“Yes. I’ll tell you more,” Ethan drummed fingers on the table, “You’re also okay with it. Why would you talk to me then?” 

‘Come on, Morgan. Get angrier. Say something so rude that it cools me down.’

“Why? Because you’re better than you think of yourself!” Noah screamed, but it was completely the opposite of what Ethan was expecting. “You shouldn’t just say things when you know no background. You’re perfectly aware of that,” he said more calmly, sitting back on his chair. 

“Then tell me. Make me change my mind about your friends,” Ethan suggested, sure that Noah wouldn’t be able to do that, “But first…” He answered another call, “Ethan Thomson’s listening.” 

“Oh, little bitch decided to hide behind a rich jerk’s butt? Or are you his pimp, maybe?”

“No, just a rich jerk,” Ethan answered, “Did you have something to say?” 

“Tell the hoe that he better watch his back.” 

“Hm… Your voice sounds familiar,” Ethan lied, “Interesting.” 

“You don’t know me.” 

“Are you sure?” Thomson asked and smiled, “Maybe you should follow your own piece of advice and watch you back more? Rich jerks can be vengeful.” 

“Fuck you!” he heard a less confident voice before the speaker hung up. Ethan giggled unconsciously. People could say anything they wanted until they understood there could be consequences afterwards. “So what about your friends?” Ethan got back to the topic. 

“They’ve always  supported me.” 

“What about today?” 

“Apparently, if you didn’t know, they have their own lives. It’s not their fault that I'm in trouble twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week!”

“It’s not your fault, either,” Ethan noticed, “Today’s situation is different from the previous. Pressure has grown rapidly. The situation got worse. What do you think could possibly make your bully abuse you more? He has entered a new level. Why?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Think carefully. What happened today before that post appeared?” 

“N…nothing,” Noah stuttered, but Ethan understood that he was lying in a split second. 

“I don’t like when people lie to me,” Thomson said with pressure, “Especially when they lie so obviously. Who are you protecting?” 

“No one!” 

“That no one  may be a person who hasn’t let you live peacefully for several years! Do you understand it or not?” 

“They would never do this to me!” Morgan screamed, striking his hand upon the table.

“They…” Ethan sounded thoughtful, “That’s why they’re not here today. You had a fight.” 

“It’s not what you…” 

“You had a fight, and then the post appeared. Interesting coincidence. The jury would’ve loved it.” 

“THEY HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH IT!”

“They’re like nasty snakes. They bully you; however, they stay close to you to watch you suffer from the first row, don’t they? So clever, yet so nasty.”

“Ethan, shut up! Shut up, or else...”

“Or else what?” Thomson smirked. 

“Or else I’ll come back at you,” Noah said through his teeth. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any sketchy friends who could be busted,” Thomson shrugged his shoulders, “I already got rid of all the snakes surrounding me.” 

“But you have you,” Morgan said quietly. 

“O-o-o-oh, do you think you can offend me?” Ethan sounded happy. 

“I’m sure!” Noah said it passionately, in the heat of the moment. Look at him; he is so courageous. 

Ethan stood up, grabbed his chair, turned the chair's back up in front of Morgan, and sat down, looking directly into his eyes. Noah turned from the table to Thomson unconsciously, so their knees almost touched. 

“Do it.” 

“I won’t,” Noah said. 

“I want to hear it. Do it.” 

“No.” 

“If you offend me, I’ll leave your friends alone,” Thomson promised. 

“I lied. I have nothing to offend you with.”

“You’re lying right now,” Ethan frowned. Noah remained uncompromising. Well…

The incoming call.

“Ethan Thomson’s listening.” 

“Oh, what a surprise! It’s gonna be even more fun to talk to you! Can you leave a review on Morgan? How does it feel fucking his smashed ass?” 

“To be honest, it feels wonderful. The best sex of my entire life.” 

There was silence on the other end of the line. Noah chuckled. 

“Did you guys hear it?” the hushed voice said, “He really fucks Morgan!” 

Ethan hung up. 

"So, where were we?” Thomson easily changed the subject back to the previous one. 

“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” Noah begged quietly. But Ethan didn’t want to stop. He needed to know how he could get offended, so that he could take precautions. And most importantly, he needed to cool down. Right here, right now. When Morgan was sitting so close to him. 

“Is it true that Scott’s in love with Andrea, but he’s such a loser he prefers to watch her send her nudes to anyone but him?” he asked sarcastically, “Speaking of which, Andrea has sent them to anyone, besides, well, maybe some hobo who can end up on our campus once in a while. I think he doesn’t have her nudes yet just because he doesn’t have a cell.” 

Noah lost it immediately. 

“You know what?” Morgan was shaking because of anger, “You should tell your mother she raised you awfully!” he yelled. Ethan shivered. For a moment, he felt like there was no air in his lungs. Anger was overcoming him. He felt his body shaking. 

“My mother died,” Ethan said earlier than he had thought about it. 

“Yes,” Noah answered, losing his passion immediately, “That’s the point.” 

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Noah had the urge to kill his bottle of wine. After his burst of anger, he felt ashamed immediately. 

‘How could you?’ the thought was pounding in his head, ‘How could you say something possible out loud?’

Even the mask couldn’t hide how pale Ethan was. Morgan found his soft spot, and he attacked. Yes, with a warning. Yes, he was made to do that. These were just the excuses. 

The silence was heavy. Noah covered his mouth with a shaking hand, feeling that he was about to throw up. 

“You…” Noah cringed with fear when Ethan started speaking, “You’re good. I underestimated you,” Thomson said with pressure, “How did you know?” there was no anger or provocation in his voice anymore. He sounded curious and almost confused, like a child. 

Tears welled up on Morgan’s face. He didn’t know how bad Ethan felt after his words, but he knew how bad he personally felt. Circumstances didn’t wait. Noah was still covering his mouth, but it couldn’t help with sobbing. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, wiping his eyes, “I didn’t mean it, really. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“Ethan Thomson’s speaking. Yes, he’s wonderful. In any position. Yes, it’s worth it, but you can just keep dreaming. No, I’m an awfully jealous person. No, even for that price. No. You think? And I think he’s out of your league,” the conversation ended. “Weird, apparently, I think this guy wasn’t joking,” Ethan said mindlessly, flipping the phone in his hand. 

“The thing that I’ve understood after these two years is that I wouldn’t be broke if I were a prostitute,” Noah said in a husky voice as he sniffed his nose, “I have no idea why," and tears started running down Morgan’s cheeks. 

“Because you’re cute,” Ethan suggested. Noah felt even worse after hearing it. 

“How can you think that I’m cute after the things I’ve said?!” he screamed, “Me!..I’m!...I’m a monster!” 

“I made you say something you didn’t want to. You said what I didn’t want to hear. We’re even. Yes, it was a low blow. You offended me, as you promised. But you did it to protect your friends. Besides, you’re even crying about it now… Not many people can worry about others’ feelings as much as you do,” Ethan said, recollecting himself clearly faster than Noah. 

“You’re a filthy provocator!” Morgan accused Ethan. Instead of answering, Thomson took a pack of napkins out of his hoodie, took some out of it, and leaned forward toward Noah. 

“You too,” he said, wiping Noah’s wet cheeks carefully, not touching him with his fingertips, “We instigate people to do different things. I make them angry.” 

“What about me, then?” Noah sobbed. Ethan froze for a moment, and the question remained unanswered. 

“So how did you know that my mother’s dead?” Thomson didn’t even bother to find a better way to change the topic. 

Noah grabbed a bucket of ice cream and put a spoonful in his mouth before speaking. 

“I don’t know. Our conversations made me think that way for some reason. There was no clear evidence coming from you. You can think of it as a general impression,” he said with his mouth stuffed. 

“Turns out, you have more of a devil’s mind than an eye,” Ethan noticed. 

“I guess,” Noah decided not to argue about it, “M-m-m-m…How… What happened to her?” he asked carefully, “If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine,” he added quickly. 

“Why not. I don’t get a chance to talk about my mom often. It was cancer. When they found it, it was too late. Terminal stage. She was gone after a few months. I was seventeen.” 

“And… How did you get over it?’ 

“Who said I got over it?” Thomson smirked, “The person, sitting in front of you, is not the same Ethan Thomson as he used to be,” he assured Noah, “Believe it or not, I used to be the heart and soul of every party. I could make new friends just like that.” 

“You’re joking, right?” 

“I’m dead serious.” 

“So you weren’t constantly saying rude things to people?” Noah said it as if he was surprised. 

“Oh no, God, no. I was charming.” 

“Charming… You’re quite charming, even... Well… I mean… Anyway, it’s hard to imagine,” Noah mumbled, confused. 

“Yes. It’s hard for me now, too,” Ethan nodded, “Probably, I behaved that way because I knew I always had my mom to support me.” 

“Tell me about her,” Morgan asked. 

“She was strong. Brave. Loving. Sacrificial,” Ethan answered immediately, “After a kidnapping when I was fourteen, I lost it. I wish I could brag about coping well. But no. When I was locked down there, when I was beaten up, fed dog food, and threatened to be killed, I had only two things I could do: cry and fear. I could only cry and fear. So when I got back home, my emotional state was between those two actions. I was afraid to leave the house. I was afraid of random vans passing by. I was afraid of people—all of them. And I was crying my heart out constantly. Those couple of days in the basement gave me PTSD. I was suffering from panic attacks, nightmares, depression, and a general anxiety disorder. The full bouquet. As if you were reading a psychology coursebook.” 

“Oh my God...” 

“My mother fully supported me then. Of course, my father also took part as much as he could, but he had so much work to do. And Audrey was still a kid back then. My mom was giving me all the attention. She quit her job to concentrate on helping me. She would take me to my therapist. She would always come to me if I had nightmares again. She was trying to help me deal with that fear, step by step. Slowly, but consistently. She never pushed me. She never went off on me. She never showed she was tired, though, and I know perfectly well how difficult it was for her. She never snapped at me after I said something mean to her. We talked a lot. We were also silent a lot together. She was always there for me.” 

“Your mother was a wonderful person,” Noah said quietly. 

“Yes. You’re right, she was. She was incredible. That’s why her death destroyed me completely.” 

Noah was silent for a minute, not knowing what to say. There were only new questions swirling in his head. Like Morgan felt that Ethan wanted to say more, so he wanted to give him such an opportunity. 

“Did your relationship with Audrey get worse after her death?” Noah couldn't help but ask. 

“Yes. But it’s not only about my mother's death. There was a letter in her testament addressed to my sister. Our family’s little secret was written there. Audrey and I are from different fathers. If she found out that information under different circumstances, my sister would possibly react calmer. However… You lose your mother, and then you find out, as you think, that you also lost your father, in a way… I can understand her. At least, partly.”

“And what about the rain?” Noah said, but then closed his mouth. He felt that something had changed in Ethan. 

“No,” Thomson said, touching something under his hoodie. What was it? A necklace? A cross? Ethan and religion? Doubtfully, “Enough talking about me. A secret for a secret. How did you get that scar?” Thomson pointed at Noah's right brow, “I’ve been curious about it since we first met.” 

Noah frowned. Ethan knew what to ask in exchange for his secret. Morgan touched the scar mindlessly, wondering where to start. 

Probably from the beginning.

Chapter Text

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Even while drunk, Noah felt awkward telling that story. Awkward and uncomfortable. However, Ethan shared his problems, so it seemed unfair not to share back. Noah took a deep breath, sighed, and started telling the story in a quiet voice. 

“I wasn’t popular back in school,” he mumbled in a constrained manner, trying to guess at the same time whether he should’ve just told Ethan the facts and shut his mouth instead of telling the whole story and its background. “Puberty hit me hard,” it was still possible to see some of it left, “I knew I wasn’t super handsome, but my grandmother used to tell me that beauty is like a nice sign: it can attract a person to come inside and take a look, but it would never make the person stay if there was nothing interesting inside,” Morgan never doubted her opinion until recently, “And... I did believe that beauty wasn’t the most important thing and that I could always impress a person with my personal traits, not my face or figure,” Noah said, feeling embarrassed with his own naivety. “This stupid faith led to...” 

“It’s not stupid at all,” Ethan interrupted Noah rudely, “Beauty is subjective, short-lived, and can be taken away easily,” he knapped, “Why would you need a partner who could leave you if you got old, gained some weight, or got an injury of some sort? Can love really be so shallow? It’s such an embracive feeling; it can push people to do different, sometimes reckless things. It can make people forget their egoism. It can even make people sacrifice themselves. Such a strong feeling just can’t work on a beauty concept. Respect, however, plays a far more important role, which then leads to an appreciation of a person’s advantages and character traits. I mean those you’ve mentioned. Nobody will respect you for your eyes, lean stomach, and snatched butt. Would they want to fuck you for that? Of course. But will they love you? Doubtful.” 

Ethan turned out to be an idealistic person. 

“Back when I was in school, a guy told me that only fourteen-year-old girls and ugly people believe that,” Noah said and laughed. 

“So who do you think I can be then? A fourteen-year-old girl? Or an ugly guy?” Ethan asked curiously. 

“Ah…Um…” Noah was confused, “No, that’s not what I meant,” he said, shaking his head, “You’re clearly not fourteen. And you’re definitely not ugly!” 

“But I look like a girl, right?” you could tell Ethan was smiling from his eyes. 

“Oh! Not, you don’t... I mean… You’re a guy. But… Well, I mean... Ugh! If you identify yourself as a girl, then... I’ll respect that! And… Um…” 

‘What the hell am I saying!’

“I identify as a male,” Ethan said and sighed. He was clearly laughing at Noah’s attempt to clarify himself. 

“Oh, okay, good,” Morgan felt so awkward he was about to cry. When did he forget how to communicate? 

“Do you think it’s good?” Ethan was definitely mocking him now. 

“Y-yes… I mean, since I’m into guys...” Noah choked on his words when he understood he was saying too much. Damn wine! 

What if Ethan was actually a girl? And what if he was thinking about transitioning? What would happen to Noah’s feelings then? 

Morgan froze for a second. 

‘Maybe I’m not so gay after all?’

Noah’s alcohol-addled brain was finally so confused that the guy grunted in pain. 

“Okay… I mean… It’s… It’s not that simple!”

“Oh, yes, definitely,” Ethan smirked, taking the phone to his ear, “Ethan Thomson’s listening. Sorry, but he’s busy. Right now and in general. No, he’s not going to step on you. I can, though. Text me your address so I can come, and I’ll be stepping on you till you slip into a coma. Haha!... He hung up,” Ethan hissed and put the phone on the table, its screen facing down. It seemed that this chit-chatting with Morgan’s admirers  didn’t amuse him anymore. “So, we lost the original topic of our conversation. You were saying about your beliefs that beauty wasn’t the most important thing in the world,” he reminded Noah. 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Noah nodded and felt happy that he didn’t have to think about the gender identity of anyone, “Anyway, I could fall in love easily, and I was surprisingly brave thanks to my grandmother. If I had a crush on someone, I couldn’t hide it for a long time, which led to talking about my feelings and being rejected every time. But I always thought that it was better to open up about your feelings and receive a ‘No’ as a clear answer, than question yourself till the end of your life, how your life would’ve changed if you hadn’t been a coward.” 

“It’s a bold position,” Ethan commented. 

“I’m not so sure,” Noah smiled weakly, “A couple of guys once even punched me for telling them how I felt. But it wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that, sooner or later, you stop waiting for a different, other than ‘No’, answer. So that, when you hear a ‘Yes’, you become so enthusiastic that you don’t notice rose-tinted spectacles on your face, with glasses as thick as your fingers. That was what happened to me. Rose-tinted glasses,” Noah sighed heavily, “As soon as I started university, I fell in love with a senior student. His name was Matthew. I was head over heels for him, as usual. And, as it always happened before, I couldn’t hide my feelings any longer. I told him everything, and, surprisingly, he said ‘Yes’!” 

“I see nothing surprising here,” Ethan noticed carefully. Noah just shrugged his shoulders. 

“I thought everything would be fine. I felt that my first ever relationship would be my last one. Love till death tears us apart. My boyfriend was handsome, intelligent, and rich. He loved me. And I loved him. Just like in some kind of drama movie. 

“Yes, it sounds cheezy,” Ethan smirked. Apparently, something sounded upsetting for him. 

“There’s always a villain in any fairytale,” Morgan continued, eating his ice cream. And then he was silent. Ethan raised his eyebrows as a question. Noah felt his face start burning. He could leave out some details, right? Or was it better… No. Whatever. 

“Sex. Our problem was sex,” Noah mumbled, staring at the bucket of ice cream. 

“Was he a pervert?” Ethan wasn’t confused at all. 

“No.” 

“An impotent?” 

“God, Ethan, of course not! That wasn’t the case!”

“Then what was the case?” 

“Well… It was about me,” Noah could barely talk. 

“Are you a pervert?” one Thomson’s question sounded worse than the other. 

“No. I’m not a pervert, and, anticipating your next question, I’m not an impotent, either,” Noah said irritatedly, “But before Matthew... I’ve never dated anyone. I hadn’t even kissed.” 

“Oh-h-h…” 

“Yeah. And…” Noah tried his best to tell the story carelessly, but he just kept stuttering. “Anyway, Matthew, on the contrary, was quite experienced. And, of course, when we started dating, he wanted to have sex. And I was always backpedaling. Every time, I refused at the last moment.” 

“Why? You don’t like it when...”

“No-no, I also wanted it, but... promise you won’t laugh,” Noah asked suddenly. Instead of giving him an answer, Ethan raised his eyebrows like, ‘Do I look like a person who can laugh at other people’s problems?’ Morgan swallowed and continued, “I was scared. And I was shy. I couldn’t imagine myself being naked around him,” Noah wrapped himself up in his shirt unconsciously, “completely naked... Can you even imagine?” 

“I’d rather not,” Ethan pronounced in a weird voice. 

“Exactly! Me neither… God. It’s so stupid, right? It’s even dumb.”

“Many people get scared during their first time,” Ethan said calmly, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

“You think?” Noah sighed in relief, “Were you... were you also scared?” he asked quietly. 

“I don’t remember,” Ethan said, drumming his fingers on his knee.

‘What do you mean you don’t remember? How can you possibly forget about it?’

“So, did your relationship start breaking up because of your fear?” Thomson decided to switch the subject deliberately instead of focusing on the phrase he had just said. 

“Yes. We fought multiple times over it. Matthew would always take offense at it. He wouldn’t talk to me for several days after. But then everything would become normal. Maybe it could’ve gone the same way if there hadn’t been that damn anonymous chat with those damn rumors,” Noah looked at his phone angrily and said, “The day before the first message, Matthew and I had a fight again because of sex. I was so nervous that I couldn’t sleep all night. In the morning, I understood I had a fever, so I decided to stay at home. That’s why I had no idea what was going on at the university at that moment. I found out about everything only when Matthew showed up at my flat. He was furious. He started yelling at me as soon as he entered, showing me his phone. Apparently, there was a picture of me with some guy. It was totally fake. 

All those cruel memories that Noah had been hiding for so long appeared in his head so clearly as if they had happened the day before. Matthew was danging his phone before Noah’s eyes, showing him a photoshopped pornographic picture. It was well photoshopped, to be honest. Noah would’ve needed to get an expert to prove that it was fake. There were Noah’s first and last names under the photo. There was also his age. His department. And a capture: ‘I’m good in any possible position. Do you want to try?’

“Explain, what the hell? While I’m taking such enormous care of you, you’re fucking with everyone around you, but me?!”

“No! Oh, my God. NO!” Morgan was so lost; he just didn’t understand why it could all possibly happen. He was too worn out to defend himself. Noah just kept saying, “No-no-no!” 

“I’m so sick of you!” Matthew said. And then he pushed Noah onto the bed. He decided that it was fare  if, before they broke up, Morgan spread his legs one more time for him. That was what he said. 

Noah decided not to share this point with Ethan. 

“And?” Thomson brought Morgan back to reality: “What happened next?” His voice remained still, but Noah felt that Ethan was getting more and more mad. 

“And then we started a fight,” he replied, deciding not to clarify how the situation was actually developing. He was so scared, he couldn’t even move his finger while Matt was taking his pants off. It felt impossible to think of what he could’ve done with Noah if there hadn’t been… Fluffy. The cat became crazy. He jumped on Matthew, laying on Noah, and started scratching his back. The guy cried out in pain, grabbed Fluffy’s head, and threw him against the wall. That was the moment when Noah woke up. That was when he fought back. He punched Matt in the jaw, and then he gave him a kick as hard as he could in order to kick him off the bed. There was a blood stain on the wall where Matt threw the cat. Noah remembered how furious he was; he also remembered Matt’s vicious look, who definitely wasn’t ready for Noah’s reaction since he was half a head taller than him and he was in better shape, too. However, at some point, he probably understood that he couldn’t deal with Noah. Sure thing, Morgan thought at that moment that he was even capable of murder. Matt got scared, and that was when Noah got his scar. 

“Our fight ended when Matthew threw this ashtray at me,” Morgan said, touching the mark near the right eyebrow, “That one,” Noah said, pointing at a small plate standing on the windowsill, made out of thick glass. Morgan was afraid that tobacco could ruin or damage the paintings (he didn’t know whether it was actually possible, but he decided to take some precautions). That was why he smoked at home extremely rarely, when he couldn’t bear anything anymore. 

Matthew decided to leave the-half-committed crime-scene that evening. The first thing Noah did was take Fluffy to the clinic as fast as he could. The eyes of the vets said it all when Noah broke into the clinic, his face covered with blood. Apparently, you could lose quite a lot of blood from just a cut eyebrow. 

“So where’s he studying, you were saying?” Ethan asked matter-of-factly. 

“Nowhere. He graduated a year ago and moved to Las Vegas with his parents. They own casinos there.”

Noah sighed. The worst part ended. Matthew wasn’t in his life anymore, not even in this city. On the other hand, there was Ethan. Being near him, unlike Matthew, made Noah feel safe and secure. 

“Is his last name Coleman?” 

Noah stared at Ethan in pure shock. 

“Yes, it is,” he admitted, “Do you know him?”

“Our families know each other,” Thomson said, “We have never met officially, though. I’ve never talked to him, but I know enough about him in order to ask you one more question,” he answered, looking at Noah from under his eyebrows, “You won’t like it. Do you mind if I ask you?”

Noah bit his lips nervously. 

“I don’t mind.” 

“Did he break into your house and start the fight immediately ?” 

Morgan shivered under Ethan’s stare. 

“Um…Not really,” the ice cream was melting fast, so Noah literally stuffed his mouth, trying to finish it. 

“That's what I thought," but luckily, Ethan didn’t try specifying anything. Unfortunately, the only reason he did it was because he had understood everything without extra questions, “I know that’ll sound brutal, but I’m glad that chatroom ruined your relationship before Coleman did,” Thomson added, looking at the light between the phone screen and the table. He was about to take it, but Noah was the first one to reach it. Morgan flipped the phone, denied the call, and then looked carefully through the list of recent incoming calls to make sure neither his parents, friends, nor the retirement home called. No. Nobody called. Only some strangers. 

“Apparently, we can cross your ex off the list of suspects, right?” Ethan understood how uncomfortable that subject was for Noah, so he moved on. 

“I guess, yes,” Morgan nodded, taking the last spoon of ice cream and starting to lick the leftovers off it. Some melted ice cream dripped on his lips and his chin. Noah caught the drops with his fingers and licked them off mindlessly. 

“I…” Ethan stuttered. His eyes became pitch dark again, “I need to use the restroom.” 

5' 3"

Ethan shut the restroom door behind him, ran towards the sink, and opened the tap with cold water. His hands were shaking when he took off his gloves and the mask to splash his face with some cold water. His skin was burning. His pulse, despite Thomson looking extremely calm, was skyrocketing. Why did all the bright emotions, positive or negative, have to end up like that all the time? Or maybe the problem was with Morgan, not with his emotions? 

“Stop it,” Ethan whispered, leaning on the sink and hypnotizing the water going down, “Enough.” 

The only emotion Thomson should’ve had at that moment was anger. Anger and nothing more. He knew so many nasty stories about Matthew Coleman. To be more precise, he had heard what he was capable of doing with the life of a person who would risk becoming his boyfriend. He would always find some naive dummies, make them depend on him, and then he would start acting like a complete jerk. To be honest, quite a few people of Ethan’s age, coming from the same society, would choose a similar parasitizing strategy of building relationships, and, for some reason, it was considered normal. Thomson didn’t lie to Noah. He and Matthew would bump into each other only at dinner parties. That guy acted nice only before the first glass of wine. Alcohol revealed his true self. Thomson once saw a drunk Matthew trying to hit on the waiter, despite his boyfriend sitting next to him. When his partner decided to say something about it, Matthew slapped him in the face in front of everyone. He was yelling at him, saying that whoever had the money was right. And if he was the one to have the money, then the guy had to shut the fuck up. Such a sketchy guy. Ethan felt sick even when thinking that Noah had dated him before. How unpleasantly small the world is! 

The more unpleasant thing was Ethan’s reaction to the melted ice cream on Noah’s chin. Such urges would annoy Ethan even in a less depressing environment. Now, especially, it was the worst timing possible. 

“Enough,” he exhaled again, trying to catch his breath again and put his body under control. In order to cool down, he had to think about something bad. Thomson closed his eyes and started thinking about some episodes that he would never think about under other circumstances, even if someone would threaten him with a gun. Luckily, Ethan had a gigantic luggage full of shitty memories. They were unbearably bright and usually made him cool down easily. 

But not today. 

Ethan tried to fish out the nastiest, filthiest, scariest, and ugliest pictures from his memory… However, Morgan, with that ice cream, managed to hold the stage entirely . Damn Morgan, with damn ice cream, was doing something that even long-term professional therapy couldn’t do. God damn it!

“Come one, get yourself together,” Ethan was almost begging himself, splashing his face with cold water. He couldn’t even imagine that his fight against his own body could be such a losing situation. 

Ethan needed a solid ten minutes to cool down his stupid  body and get his calm condition back. He turned off the water and put his mask and gloves back on, but decided to take some time near the door, hesitating to open it. Ethan was aware that his instincts were so sharp because he had been holding them for a long time. He was trying to remind himself that he was so focused on his desires because the glands of internal secretion and diencephalon were doing their jobs. And his chromosomes, too. And God knows what else. Thomson did hope that his method of connecting everything with science would help him deal with this situation. Physical intimacy was overrated. Ethan couldn’t believe that people were capable of committing terrifying crimes under the influence of that shallow feeling. That the urge could make them do things that Ethan read about in police reports that were available on the course of criminology he attended. Ethan was disgusted by these intimate desires. However, he couldn’t stop feeling them completely, no matter how hard Ethan tried. 

“God damn,” said Thomson through his teeth, pressing his forehead against the door, “Why the fuck am I so horny, damn!” 

Ethan didn’t want to admit that, but he couldn’t deny it and lie to himself either. Thomson took several deep breaths, and only afterwards did he let himself get back to Noah. 

“Is everything okay?” Morgan was eagerly eating the second bucket of ice cream. 

“Yes,” Ethan said, heaving a sigh. The challenge continued.

Ethan took the chair from Noah back to the table, understanding that it was torture sitting so close to him. He began staring at one of the paintings on the wall, thinking that he wouldn’t take his eyes off it till the end of their conversation. 

What was he even thinking about when he decided to show up at Noah’s so late at night? Did he really think that his stupid body  wouldn’t react? No, he didn’t. Thomson thought he was self-conscious. Certain brain areas proved him wrong. 

Why wasn’t he born frigid? 

Ethan would have continued staring at the painting, trying to create an emotional vacuum around him, but then something unexpected appeared, which made him flinch. A fluffy black cloud jumped into his lap. The cat didn’t try to get some pets or get comfortable in Ethan’s arms. He sat down, facing towards Ethan, and started staring at him with his round yellow eyes, his tail wiggling aggressively. Fluffy was definitely not happy with the fact that Ethan was there in Noah’s flat. His claws spoke clearly for him. 

“Wow, he likes you!” Noah sounded surprised. 

Hell no, he didn’t! Fluffy didn’t like Ethan. Ethan also wasn’t a fan of Fluffy. Thomson suspected that if he made a single wrong move, this beast would immediately attack him in the face.

“I really doubt it,” Ethan said, staring back at the cat. 

“Trust me! Fluffy never lets a stranger touch him! And he definitely never jumps in anyone’s laps. He even hisses at my mom. He has always tolerated either me or my grandmother,” Noah just didn’t want to notice the silent confrontation between Ethan and the cat. 

The cloud of evil never let anyone come closer because they were simply not interesting to him. However, he sensed a threat coming from Ethan, so he was trying to sit in his lap aggressively just to show who was the boss of the house. 

“Peanut is completely opposite,” Noah took the ginger cat that just came closer to his feet and picked him up, “He likes everyone,” Peanut remained in the same position Noah put him in and was accepting pets happily. 

“That means they’re a good couple,” Ethan stated, fighting the urge to kick the black cloud from his lap. 

“You’re right. They get along so well, despite how different they are. I don’t even know why. Some cat people’s pets never get along, no matter how many years it has been. But I’ve never seen Peanut and Fluffy fighting. Surprising, isn’t it?”

“The one who loves everyone always needs someone who loves only them. It’s a balance,” Ethan explained, raising his hand slowly and putting it on Fluffy’s neck carefully, in case the evil cat decided to attack him for real. The cat froze and growled a little. The staring contest continued. 

“I guess you’re right,” Noah said, reaching towards Peanut to start kissing his head. 

Ethan thought for a second that he was jealous of the cat. After realizing his thoughts, he gave himself a slap upside the head mentally. He had never been so pathetic before. 

“Do you remember when the photo was taken? The one with a coffee cup?” 

Morgan looked so peaceful after some wine and ice cream. It was a crime to ruin that atmosphere. But temporary silence couldn’t solve the problem. Something had to be done. As soon as possible. That’s why Ethan had to get back to their original subject. 

“The picture was taken today. FYI, it was before the fight with Andrea and Scott,” Noah stated drily. 

‘It doesn’t mean anything yet,’ Ethan thought, but didn’t say anything. He promised Morgan to stop mocking his friends. When he was around, at least. Thankfully, Ethan could insult anyone freely inside his head. That also worked. 

“So, does it mean you remember how the photographer looked?”

“Yes. She was a girl. A freshman, I guess. A bit shorter than me. Blond. It was the first time I’ve seen her,” Noah listed rapidly. 

“Will you recognize her if you see her?” 

“Yes. I think so… Wait. What are you thinking about?” Noah flinched. Ethan narrowed his eyes. 

“Let’s find her tomorrow.” 

“I’m telling you, she’s a freshman. We’ve never met. I don’t think that she has been…” 

“Yes. I understand that she’s just a pawn in the game. But what if we find out who asked her to take the picture?” 

“I don’t think she’ll tell you that!”

“She will,” Ethan wasn’t as skeptical as Morgan, “They always do. You just need to know where to push.” 

Noah darkened. 

“You won’t… You won’t start insulting her, will you? Or threatening and blackmailing her?” 

“Hm…” Ethan drummed his fingers on his chin, looking as if he were thinking over Noah’s words, “Let me think. Will I insult a girl who has taken an insulting picture? Will a blackmail a person who was a part of cruel cyberbullying ? Will I do such a low blow and start threatening a person, the action of which threatened  your wellbeing? No, of course, not... I guess I’ll buy her a new purse, give her a foot massage, and thank her for all the wonderful work she did,” he said coldly. 

“Ethan, that’s not funny,” Noah frowned. 

“Am I laughing, or something?” 

Noah didn’t say anything, but he didn’t put his eyes away, either. He was clearly trying to show how much he didn’t like what Ethan was thinking about at that moment, having zero clue that Ethan was far more interested in Noah than in the girl who had taken a picture of Morgan. And in the ice cream on his lips. 

“Okay,” Ethan surrendered, understanding that he wasn’t able to have a staring contest with Morgan. His opponent was an extremely sweet guy, “Let’s find her tomorrow and try talking to her. Deal?” 

“D...deal,” Noah said, closing a half-empty ice cream bucket, “Shall we discuss it further tomorrow?” he suggested, “My head’s just spinning after everything that happened today.” 

“Okay,” Ethan nodded, standing up from the chair. Fluffy had already jumped to the floor, growling a little because someone had made him move. “I should go then.” 

“It's quite late already, so...” Noah stuttered, “If you want, you can spend the night here.” 

...The challenge continued.   

Chapter Text

5' 3"

Ethan was about to deny Morgan’s generous offer because, at least, he was fully aware of how difficult it was for him to stay calm while even sitting next to Noah. What would Thomson have to go through if they ended up laying in the same bed? The whole pile of unbearable torture accompanied by dirty thoughts caused by hormones and intoxicating lust? Or maybe the Hell in his pants that couldn’t be put down with a cold shower and a minute of alone time? Emotional oblivion on the edge of delirium? Ethan’s patience was slowly vanishing. He felt its limits like never before. Morgan shouldn’t have welcomed a strange r into his bed. He could never know how the stranger  was picturing him at that moment. Morgan would look great lying on his stomach, his hands tied up behind his back. Ethan wouldn’t mind seeing that in real life. 

‘Just say No ,’ Thomson ordered himself, his eyes moving around the flat, understanding that there was no way they could find a compromise. There was nothing but one bed to sleep on. It was doubtful that Morgan wanted to place Ethan, or himself, on the floor to sleep. Frankly speaking, there was no room on the floor, either. 

God damn you, just say No . 

But Morgan looked like he was…begging. It was disarming. And it was also arousing. Helplessness suited Noah. Not a fake one, but hidden and concealed behind fake smiles and bold phrases. The more this helplessness showed, the more Ethan wanted to protect him. He knew that it wasn’t right to think that way, but he couldn’t resist the feeling that someone might need him only in these types of situations. It didn’t matter what source of defense they were seeking: moral, financial, physical, or even legal. Thomson thought of himself as someone who could be useful only in those scenarios. 

Noah’s proposal didn’t sound like an invitation to a spontaneous and hot one-night stand. No. The only person who wanted something spontaneous and hot was Ethan. Because of that feeling, Thomson wanted to hang himself up. Morgan, on the other hand, didn’t have a clue about the thoughts torturing Ethan; he just didn’t want to be alone. He was afraid of loneliness, which made him defend himself on his own, of which he felt extremely tired. Probably, at that moment, Ethan was the only person who reminded Noah that he wasn’t the person people had thought of him. 

“Don’t worry! I’ve got tons of pillows! We can build a small barricade on the bed so that I won’t accidentally touch you in my sleep,” Morgan suggested calmly, and he headed towards the bed without waiting for Ethan’s answer. He felt a bit dizzy, and that showed clearly that he was probably more drunk than it seemed. 

Ethan wouldn’t mind a touch. A lot of it, to be fair. Touch strong and firm, so that he would feel pins and needles in his fingertips, so that his lips would hurt, and so that bruises would blossom on the thin skin, like peony flowers. The touch that would make him moan, his skin burn, and his muscles feel sore. The touch, that would make his mind get lost, and his blinding emotions would mix with physical pleasure because it wouldn’t happen with just anyone. It would happen with Morgan. If only Noah knew the whole truth. 

Just tell him No . 

“Okay,” Ethan said, understanding that Noah had already decided everything. In other circumstances, Thomson wouldn’t be happy with that scenario. But was it even possible to say anything against Morgan’s will? Ethan felt himself as a mad, but loyal, dog on a short leash. It was a horrible feeling. He was a step away from boycotting love. At least, the owner turned out to be a good guy. Well, until Noah didn’t have a clue about the status he had. Everything could change drastically as soon as Morgan found out how much he influenced Thomson. Ethan was extremely aware of how power, no matter how big it was, could disfigure even the nicest face of the sweetest emperor. 

There were, indeed, tons of pillows. Morgan lined them up nicely to divide the bed into two equal parts. 

“Do you need some sleeping clothes to change into?” 

“No.” 

Morgan’s clothes threatened to be a final headshot. Thomson would definitely go crazy, surrounded by Noah’s smell. 

It seemed that Morgan had as many duvets as he had pillows. Ethan sat on his side of the bed and locked his fingers nervously. He was watching Noah put the rest of the wine and ice cream in the fridge and then turn off the lights. Ethan hoped that the darkness would ease his lust, but all the light from the outside, as well as all the bedside lamps that were turned on by their owners, ruined his plans. It was still enough light in the room for Thomson to see every mole on Morgan’s neck and hands. Ethan was as tense as before. 

Thomson let himself take off only his hoodie. While Morgan was messing about on his side of the bed, trying to snuggle with all the duvets he had, Ethan was hypnotizing the gloves on his hands unsurely. It wasn’t comfortable to sleep with them on. It wasn’t good for the skin on his hands, which was always itching and burning, either. He should’ve taken his gloves off. And his mask, too. 

“I’ll try to lay as far away from you as I can,” Morgan promised, noticing Ethan’s uncertainty and scooting over to the edge of the bed. 

I’d rather have you lay down close by my side.

“Don’t be afraid to take off the mask; I’ll breathe in the opposite direction from you.”

Breathe in my direction as much as you want.

Morgan couldn’t really promise the last point. It was highly unlikely that he was one of those professionals who could control their bodies in their sleep. Ethan wasn’t one of them. Which meant that their sleepover could possibly lead to some risks. 

Ethan wanted to leave. 

Ethan wanted to stay. 

Just stay awake the whole night, and you’ll be alright.

Right. Don’t sleep. 

There was a small chest of drawers with a bunch of pictures on Ethan's side of the bed. The bedside lamp highlighted the old, grainy photos. In the oldest picture, there were a couple of newlyweds. Ethan assumed that they were Noah’s grandmother and grandfather. The other photo was way newer. A Thanksgiving family gathering. In the middle, there was a man with his hair slowly turning gray—Noah’s father. To the right of him was a woman with thick, curly hair, wearing funny glasses—his mother. To the left was a sweet, chubby boy who was hugging his grandmother with one hand and a Bugs Bunny toy with the other. A Thanksgiving turkey was standing in front of them on the table. It was an awfully normal family. 

The rest of the pictures had only Noah, his grandmother, and the cats in them. The sweet little black creature with a pink ribbon tied around the neck was probably that monster that wasn’t taking its yellow eyes away from Ethan. 

Thomson took off his mask and gloves, put them on the dresser in front of the pictures, and laid down on the bed with his face turned away from Noah. 

“Do you work out?” the sudden question made Ethan turn around unconsciously. 

No. Ethan didn’t work out. Not in the usual sense, for sure. He didn’t go to the gym, lift weights, or play basketball with the local guys in the evenings. However, he spent quite a bit of time with Duncan. 

“No. What made you think I do?” Ethan asked and almost needled Morgan that, when he was changing the shirt, he asked Thomson to look away. And look what he was doing! On the contrary, Ethan was still wearing his t-shirt. Still, his bare hands were enough to make him feel uncomfortable. It had been a while since he was so undressed in front of others, besides his father. 

“I can see the muscles of your back. And your biceps,” Noah notified. 

Do you just see, or are you actually looking? 

“Do you think these are biceps?” Ethan chuckled, bent his elbow, and flexed his muscles. And he didn’t notice anything special. There was nothing to brag about, as he thought. 

“Yeah, you’re right, you’ve got a long way, not like me,” Noah nodded, demonstrating his thin arm. 

Ethan also had such hands. When he was around thirteen. 

Thomson couldn’t handle a smile. 

“Sleep,” he said, making himself comfortable on the edge of the bed to keep the distance between him and Noah. 

“Goodnight,” Morgan said. 

“Goodnight,” Ethan barely said, suddenly feeling something in him twisted in pain and a lump growing in his throat. Goodnight . There was nothing special about this phrase. But Ethan was used to hearing it only from his mother. No one had ever told him that after her death. 

His past was taken out and torn apart tonight, but this phrase was a boiling point. 

Ethan shut his eyes tightly and closed his mouth with his hands. 

Even if negative emotions were overwhelming, Thomson couldn’t cry. His eyes remained dry even when he wished they didn’t. Instead of crying, his body would start shaking, and his heart, even without a rising pulse, was beating so hard that it hurt after every beat. 

“Ethan, thank you for coming and staying with me tonight,” the voice from the other side of the bed said. Thomson didn’t answer, still covering his mouth, “I probably look miserable.” 

“No, you don’t,” Ethan had to try his best so that his voice wouldn’t shake like his body, “I’ve told you already that I also feel shitty. So that, if you’re thanking me for coming here today, I should thank you for letting me in.” 

“You didn’t tell me what happened,” Morgan said. 

“You didn’t ask,” Ethan didn’t judge; he was just stating a fact. 

“I am now.” 

“We are already in bed.” 

“But I’m not asleep, and neither are you.” 

“I’m getting there.” 

“You’re lying!” the voice sounded indignant. 

“Me? Lying?” Thomson sounded fake-offended, “I’ll sue you for libel action.” 

A second later, a pillow fell on Ethan’s head.

“That sounds like paragraph number two hundred forty-five.” 

“What’s that? A pillow assault?” Noah laughed. 

“Assault with a deadly weapon,” Ethan answered. 

“Since when did the pillow become a deadly weapon? Should I throw maybe two of them then?” 

“Paragraph four hundred twenty-two: ‘Criminal threats’. You’re walking on thin ice, Morgan.” 

“Say one more word, and I’m going to set Fluffy against you!” 

“Paragraph two-hundred-three: ‘Bodily harm’, and five-hundred-ninety-seven: ‘Cruelty to animals’,” Ethan rattled, laughing. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself! You’re not an animal!” Morgan laughed. 

“No, I meant...” 

Ethan paused because Noah, who was about to hit him with two pillows, lost his balance. “Ouch,” he said quietly, fell over the pillow wall, and landed directly on Thomson. Well, to be more fair, he would land on him if Ethan didn’t react in time and stretched his arms in front of him. They looked at each other for a couple of seconds. Directly in the eye. Since they were so close to each other, Ethan smelled wine and Noah’s hot breath on his lips. Luckily, he managed to hold his breath, at least. However…

Ethan took his gloves off so that he was holding Morgan’s wrists with his bare hands. The magic of the moment was gone. 

Thomson took his hands away and jumped away from falling Noah. The guy fell on the bed and mumbled something unclear, stuck in the pillows and duvets. 

“Sorry,” he heard the voice, “I didn’t mean to...” 

“Stand up,” Ethan hissed, while getting off the bed and grabbing Noah on his t-shirt to, basically, pull him to the floor. 

“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!”

“Shut up!” Thomson groaned, taking Noah across the room and forcing him into the bathroom. 

“Wash them,” he said, pointing at Morgan's wrists that he had touched before. 

“Huh? What?” Noah narrowed his eyes and looked lost because of the bright lights. 

“I said, wash your hands!” Ethan groaned. Morgan sighed, opened the tap quickly, and started washing his hands. 

“Above, too,” Thomson said more calmly, looking at Noah’s actions attentively. He was slightly shaking. Morgan, after noticing Noah’s face, washed his arms up to his elbows, just in case, and washed the soap off thoroughly. 

“All done.” 

“More,” Ethan demanded. 

“Come on, I already...” 

“More!” Thomson groaned. Morgan sighed heavily but obeyed: “And go change your t-shirt.” 

“Why?” 

“Change it,” Ethan repeated with pressure. 

“Okay, okay, just cool down.” Noah mumbled, not understanding what was happening. 

“I shouldn’t have stayed,” Ethan said, leaving the bathroom and going straight to his hoodie, gloves, and mask. He should’ve put them on and never taken them off. Never. 

“Huh?” Noah shook up, “Wait! Please, I’m sorry! I won’t…” 

“The t-shirt,” Ethan reminded him, zipping the hoodie up to his throat. 

“For God’s sake…” he grumbled. Noah took off the t-shirt and changed it to a new one. 

“Are you happy now?”

“Yes, I am,” Thomson nodded, heading to the front door. 

“No, wait…” Noah was about to grab Ethan’s shoulder but stopped on time. Thomson turned around and looked at Noah angrily. 

“You’re not a child. You can sleep on your own,” he said. 

“I am a child, though, and I can’t sleep alone!” Noah made a helpless gesture. How sweet. No, seriously… 

“You’re being a crybaby right now,” Ethan noticed. 

“Yes!” Noah affirmed, “Like a crybaby!” he said in triumph. 

“Morgan,” Ethan rubbed his eyes tired, “Do you have brain damage or something?” 

“I get a headache once in a while. All the rest is fine,” Noah answered honestly, “I promise, I won’t ask you any other questions, why... Can we just go to bed, okay? No more pillows. I swear,” Ethan frowned because he couldn’t say No , but he wasn’t ready to say Yes  so fast. 

“I can make pancakes for breakfast. Do you like pancakes?” 

Of course, Ethan liked goddamn homemade pancakes. 

“Do you have peanut butter?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay,” Ethan surrendered, coming back to bed. This time, however, he decided not to take off his mask and gloves. 

First, Noah turned off the light, and then he hid behind the barricade of pillows. Ethan wrapped himself in his hoodie and laid down on the furthest side of the bed, hoping the day would finally be over. 

Unfortunately, he could only hope so. 

“You never answered why you’re not in the mood today,” Morgan said again. He can be clingy sometimes. 

“I thought you promised not to ask any more questions,” Ethan snapped back. 

“I won’t ask new questions, but I’ve already asked this question before, so I’m just reminding you.” 

What a cheeky devil! 

“My mom’s death anniversary is on Friday. I wanted everyone to go to the cemetery together: Audrey, my father, and me. But my sister just won’t agree to go. Even for her mother. It drives me crazy. I’m tired that Audrey’s mad at us. I’m tired of hearing that she’s mad at her mother. I'm so tired that I’m mad at Audrey. I’m just tired of it.”

“I’m so sorry you can’t find common ground. But I’m sure it’ll be alright in the future,” Noah assured him. 

“I doubt that,” Ethan noticed, closing his eyes. He promised he wouldn’t sleep, so he was just pretending to be falling asleep so that Morgan wouldn’t continue asking his questions. However, he underestimated how worn out he was, so he didn’t even notice that he fell asleep for real. 

5' 8"-5' 9"

Noah’s head was pounding with a headache. He opened his eyes and narrowed them in pain. He didn’t think he drank so much last night to get a hangover. That was what he thought, at least. His body had a different opinion. Morgan, still half asleep, closed his eyes again to lay down for a bit more. When memories from last night hit him so hard, he lost his sleep at once. Noah jumped out of bed and stared at Ethan, who was sleeping on the other side of the barricade. And then he smiled unconsciously. Thomson was lying on his back, his face turned to Noah. His mask slid down to his chin. He looked quite peaceful . Though he wasn’t the only reason that made Noah smile. Peanut was fast asleep on Noah’s stomach, with his paws stretched out and his mouth wide open. He always made funny faces in his sleep. Noah even created a folder of all of the funny pictures of his cat on the phone. Morgan found the phone on his bed and opened the camera. Apparently, Ethan could take pictures of Noah, even in parts, like some maniac who wanted to cut his victim into pieces. Which was why Noah decided that he could also take a photo. He didn’t want to take a picture of Ethan; he just wanted to capture Peanut lying on his chest and stomach. And Ethan’s hand resting on the cat. In Morgan’s opinion, the picture was worth sharing on Pinterest. 

Noah opened the camera and took a photo. Peanut turned out great with his mouth open. Ethan’s hand turned out even better. Noah imagined for a second that his hand wasn’t touching the cat's fur, but his hair. He pictured Ethan slowly playing with his curls or scratching the back of his shaved head a little. 

The incident that happened last night let Morgan feel Ethan’s touch. His skin felt dry and a bit sharp, probably because he was constantly wearing these gloves. His hands felt really hot. And, considering the bruises on the knuckles, they seemed strong, too. 

Noah carefully stood up from the bed, trying not to bother anyone, and went to the bathroom, cleaned litter boxes, washed his face, brushed his teeth, and started cooking pancakes as he had promised. Personally, he preferred coffee with nothing for breakfast, since he was too lazy to cook. However, Morgan’s usual laziness was taken away due to Thomson’s occurrence in his flat. In his bed, to be more precise. 

Noah didn’t even finish mixing all the ingredients when Peanut had already left Ethan and was hovering around Noah’s legs, bumping them with his wet nose. Fluffy made himself comfortable on the windowsill, looking at Peanut, Noah, and Ethan at the same time. 

Morgan decided that he should consider quitting alcohol completely. No, he didn't get drunk fast; he didn’t crawl on his fours on the floor or hug the toilet; he didn’t harass anyone; though, as soon as he got a bit of alcohol in his mouth, he started being, as Ethan had said, clingy. He would also start talking a lot. Look at it, he told Ethan, ‘I can’t sleep alone!’ What a shame! 

Noah froze with a spatula, distracted from flipping the pancakes. What should he tell Ethan when he wakes up? Should he apologize? Again? Wasn’t it enough? Or should he act like nothing happened? Isn’t it dumb? 

“Good morning,” Ethan said from the bed. Noah flinched and turned around. Sleepy Thomson looked pissed off at the whole world. His ‘Good morning’ sounded more like declaring war to anyone alive. 

“Good morning!” Noah smiled, then got confused and focused on the cooking. 

“For God’s sake,” he heard after a couple of seconds. Noah turned around again and saw Ethan looking at his black hoodie. Well, an ex-black hoodie. Ethan’s chest and stomach were completely covered with ginger fur. A gift from Peanut. 

“There are three sticky rollers in the hallway. You can use any of them.” 

Ethan nodded silently. 

Noah had already set the table when Thomson got back. He put a big jar of peanut butter in front of Ethan’s plate and some maple syrup in front of his. Ethan sat at the table quietly. He quietly put some peanut butter on the pile of freshly cooked pancakes. Then he started eating. All in silence. 

“Did you… Did you sleep well?” Noah asked modestly after being in silence for too long. Ethan started thinking seriously. 

“You know, surprisingly well,” he answered, looking truly surprised. 

“Did you think I'd bother you? Or the cats, maybe?” 

“No. I have trouble sleeping in general, waking up several times at night. Tonight, I didn’t wake up even once. Weird,” Ethan shrugged his shoulders, finishing the first pancake with a good appetite and starting the next one immediately. 

“You should thank Peanut then. He slept with you! He probably took away all your worries at night.” 

It was hard to tell whether Ethan was happy about this information or not. 

“That’s terrifying,” he finally said. 

“Why is it terrifying?” Noah was exasperated. Yes, Peanut skimmed awfully, but that wasn’t terrifying at all! 

“Have you read ‘The Cat from Hell’ by Stephen King?

“No, I haven’t.” 

“It’s a story about a cat-murderer. I came across it when I was a kid, read it, and then I stayed away from the cats for at least half a year. My young brain was shocked by one of the interesting things at the end of the story. The man who was told to take down the cat gets into a car accident, becomes paralyzed, and his so-called victim  tortures him and then kills him after crawling in his throat. The stranger sees the cat getting out of the man's stomach and leaving, fully covered in blood.”

Yes, what an interesting  scene. 

“God, Ethan! Peanut will never crawl into your throat!” 

“He could, though.” 

“And I could’ve choked you to death with a pillow,” Noah grunted. 

“That’s true,” Ethan agreed, “However, it’s better to die from the pillow than from a cat playing with your intestines.” 

Noah felt like if that conversation continued, he wouldn’t be able to eat another bite, so he decided to remain silent. Peanut was running back and forth from Noah to Ethan, begging for some food. Fluffy continued his observation from the windowsill. Neither of them wanted to crawl into anyone’s throat. 

Noah's screen suddenly lit up, and the guy flinched and almost dropped the piece of pancake on the floor. After the panic came relief. Despite around a hundred unknown numbers, this time his mother was calling. 

“Sweety, did I wake you up?” 

“No, I’m having breakfast.” 

“Then I want to see your cute face!” she said, hinting on a video call. Noah wanted to lie and say that he was terribly late, so it wasn’t possible. But his fast mother hung up before he had a chance to say anything. 

“Do you mind if I talk to my mom real quick?” Noah asked Ethan. 

“Not at all,” Thomson nodded, “By the way, your pancakes are quite alright,” he noticed. These words were enough to make Morgan turn scarlet red and stare into his laptop after mumbling ‘thank you’. He could only pray that his mom wouldn’t say anything provocative and that Ethan wouldn’t show his presence in his apartment. Noah would’ve asked about it if he hadn’t felt so embarrassed. 

“What a wonderful day today, isn’t it?” his mother said as soon as they started the call, “The weather is marvelous here in New York! And how are you doing?” 

Considering the view outside the window, not so good. The sky looked cloudy, and the rain was drizzling. Horrible winds were playing with garbage outside. His mother was definitely aware of what the weather was like in California. She knew that and used that information against Noah. As usual. 

“Well, it’s chilly,” Morgan answered vaguely. 

“What are you eating? No way, pancakes? Did you make them yourself? Goodness, who are you, and what did you do with my lazy son?” 

“I’m not that lazy,” Noah said with tension in his voice. Don’t say anything provocative – don’t say anything provocative – don’t say anything provocative.

“I thought you only made them for your grandmother!” 

Of course, she said something provocative! 

“I recently decided to treat myself once in a while, too,” Noah said, giving the side eye to Ethan. Thomson showed no sign of reaction. He was reading something on his phone. You could only hope that it wasn’t something about another cat-killer. 

“You should definitely treat the boy you like with those…”

Noah shut down his laptop immediately, finishing the conversation. Ethan raised his eyes slowly. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“The c-conversation ended,” Noah mumbled, turning pale. 

“Yes. Because you closed your laptop.”

“M-m-m.. What are you reading?” Noah felt like an idiot. No. Noah knew that he was definitely an idiot! 

“California against Emirson. Leondra Kruger is a judge. I love reading articles about her work. She is one of the suitors to be the next United States Supreme Court judge. I have mixed feelings about it, though,” Ethan said. 

“How’s that possible?” Noah didn’t understand. 

“I’m glad because she’s a great judge. And I’m not glad, because many think that she’s being considered only because she’s an Afro-American woman. The worst thing is that it might be true. Nobody’s interested in how flawless she’s in court or how her decisions are accurate and uncompromising. She’s amazing; I’d give anything to work with her on the same case in court. Unfortunately, people decide that the color of her skin and her gender are far more important.” 

“Don’t worry. If she gets the position, she’ll show everyone what she’s worth!” Noah said it cheerfully. 

“I hope so,” Ethan nodded, “Emirson’s case isn’t easy. He killed two prostitutes, but he has been trying to persuade the judge that he’s mentally ill for the second hearing in a row. Apparently, he says that a ghost of Jack the Ripper haunts him, and he can’t do anything about it. But I’m sure Kruger can subject him to the glare of truth.” 

The phone screen lit up again. Mother. Morgan declined the call and rushed to text a message that there was some problem with the Internet and he would’ve been so happy to talk, but he had to go, and he promised to call her later in the evening. Luckily, his mother didn’t suspect anything and answered with a set of random emojis that she absolutely loved. 

Morgan cleaned the table, took a set of fresh clothes from the wardrobe, and went to the bathroom to change. He wasn’t so brave to change in front of Ethan while being sober. 

When Morgan returned, Thomson was already waiting for him in the hallway. 

“Are you going to the university?” he asked calmly. 

“Yes.” 

“I’ll give you a ride.” 

“Oh, no, don’t worry!” Noah hurried. 

“It wasn’t a question,” Thomson said while tying his shoes. 

“O-okay, thank you,” Noah was about to start the same talk about what could happen if they were noticed together, that Ethan would have a lot of problems, etc. But then he remembered how much Thomson had already told all the bullies the other day and understood that they had nothing to lose. Noah picked up his backpack and was about to reach the door handle when they heard a quiet knock from the other side. Morgan shivered; their eyes met. 

“Let’s pretend we’re not here?” Noah whispered. 

“Look in the peephole first to see who’s there,” Ethan suggested, not even thinking about lowering his tone. Noah did as he said. He looked in the peephole and frowned. 

There was Scott standing on the other side of the door. 

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

“Hi,” Noah said reluctantly after opening the door and looking at Scott, as if he was saying, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ 

“Hey...” his friend stuttered after noticing that Noah wasn’t standing alone in front of him. Ethan was standing behind his back. For some reason, Thomson’s presence felt like he was actually standing in front  of Noah, not behind  him. Even Noah felt it—the ultimate safety and intimidating impunity. It was eerie. But it felt nice. Now he could understand the meaning of the phrase ‘as safe as a church’. If Thomson were a sculpture, he would have probably been made out of titanium. 

“Ugh…Oh…” Scott moved back unintentionally, looking from Noah back to Ethan disconcertingly. Morgan could take a single guess and say what his friend was thinking about. If there was any other person besides Ethan, Noah would be mad. But the thought of Morgan possibly sleeping with Thomson made him happy, or even proud, for some reason. 

Ethan eyed the unwanted guest from head to toe. Thomson looked like he was trying to count how many injuries he could give Scott and get away with it after. Noah pushed those thoughts away. Of course, Ethan wasn’t counting anything because, apparently, he already knew  where and how to punch in order to get away with it later in court. The most important thing was not to overdo it. 

“Can…M-m… Can I talk to you?” Scott asked, shifting from foot to foot. He looked tired and anxious. Dark circles under his eyes were definitely showing that he had hardly had any sleep the night before, “In private, if it’s possible,” Scott added, and he licked his lips nervously. 

Thomson looked at Noah, questioning him with his eyes. 

“Sure,” Morgan said drily, even though he wasn’t entirely ready for a conversation with his friend. He was still emotional about their fight the day before. The wounds were so fresh, they could open up with a single wrong word, which could definitely buffet the abrasive relationship between Noah and Scott. However, Noah didn’t want to keep the conflict unsolved, and he also couldn’t let himself kick Scott out of his flat. If his friend came here to make it up with Noah, he should be listened to. Scott’s request to talk in private seemed logical. He didn’t want to involve other people in this conversation, either. How would Ethan react, though? He definitely wasn’t the winner of a competition called ‘The most tactful guy in the world.’ Was it possible to ask Thomson politely to leave and not hurt his feelings? 

“I’ll wait in the car,” Ethan said suddenly, carefully handing Noah his metallic pen. 

“I won’t need it,” Morgan wanted to refuse, but Thomson made it clear that he wasn’t going to leave until Noah accepted his gift . 

“What is it for?” Scott sounded confused, since the pen looked just like a regular pen to him. 

“For your testament,” Ethan exhaled, leaving the flat and walking slowly across the hallway, “If Morgan doesn’t come downstairs in twenty minutes, I’ll come back,” he said matter-of-factly. Scott felt so confused by this assuredness, he definitely wanted to snap back at Ethan, but he never did it. Yes, that’s right. It wasn’t important at the moment. After all, he didn’t come here to fight with Thomson. He came to see Noah. 

“May I come in?” Scott asked quietly. Morgan stepped aside in silence, welcoming him with the gesture, “Uhm…you and Thomson…” it was extremely inappropriate at the moment, but his friend was definitely dying of curiosity. 

“No,” Noah said sharply, “He just came over to support me after yesterday’s post in the anonymous chat.” 

‘And he spent the night here?’ Scott’s eyes were definitely asking this question. But he decided not to ask it out loud. 

“Ugh… Yes… I saw. I’m sorry I didn’t come over. I… You see…” 

“There is no need to find excuses. You’ve already suffered enough ,” Noah couldn’t help but notice acidly, even though he didn’t want to fight with Scott. Or did he?

The guy sighed heavily. 

“Forgive me,” Scott leaned his back against the door tired, “I said a lot of shit yesterday. I didn’t actually mean it. Nobody suffers around you. It’s all bullshit. I was cruel to you. You didn’t deserve it. Please, I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry for what I’ve said!” he rattled quietly. Noah felt that Scott had been rehearsing these sentences in front of the mirror. 

“If, as you say, I don’t deserve it, then what the hell happened yesterday?” Morgan frowned. 

“Jealousy, Noah. I was freaking jealous, and it’s driving me crazy!” Scott had never talked about his feelings for Andrea before. Never. This unexpected confession put down the fire of anger that had been storming inside Noah since yesterday's lunch. “Do you know how I feel about Andrea?” 

“You need to be an idiot not to notice it,” Noah didn’t want to hide anything, “And, while I was looking at you suffering, I never understood why you didn't tell her about your feelings. It would definitely be better than…” 

“That’s the thing,” Scott waved aside, sliding down the wall and sitting down on the floor. “That’s the thing, Noah. I’ve already told her about it in May.” 

Morgan froze. He looked at his friend suspiciously, thinking at first that he might’ve gotten Scott wrong. In May ? Why didn’t Noah know about it? Okay, Scott was always secluded, and Noah could easily imagine him not sharing some personal stories or feelings in the beginning. But Andrea? Why didn’t she tell him about it? The girl who could share her personal opinion even about the pads she was using?

“And? What did she say?” Noah tried to hide how confused and…a bit offended he was. Both of his friends were hiding such an important piece of information. But the voice betrayed him. 

“I need to think about it,” Scott said, frowning painfully. It seemed that these words felt worse than the blade of the knife. 

“And what happened next?” Morgan tried to continue. 

“There was no ‘next’,” Scott made a helpless gesture, “She’s still thinking apparently!” he said with a sad smile. 

“But… She’s… She’s sending all these nudes. And, I think, she had an affair in the summer. She told us about it in every… And even now...” Noah shouldn’t have told all that out loud, because every fact injured Scott even more, but Morgan just couldn’t hide the astonishment. He couldn’t bear what he had heard. How was it even possible?! 

“Yes, Noah. Nudes. Guys. Dates. Sex. And she’s still thinking,” Scott admitted. 

“Wait, I think I’m losing something,” Noah shook his head, sitting on the floor in front of his friend; Peanut laid on the floor in front of Scott, happy to see a new guest. The cat was stretching his front paws and tried scratching the shoes, hinting that he needed some attention—as a price for being present in the flat. Fluffy sat behind Noah. He was watching. The black cat was way less happy to see a new person than Peanut. 

“Let’s get it straight,” Noah suggested, “You told Andrea about your feelings in May. She said that she needed to think about it. What happened next?” 

“We were separated over the summer because we left home to visit our families.” 

“Were you in touch over that time?” 

“We almost weren’t. I was trying to keep in touch, but I didn’t want to be annoying. I usually texted her to wish her a good morning or a good night. I was just trying to ask how she was doing. She always seemed so busy. She would text back a couple of hours or a couple of days later. And she didn’t seem interested. Like she was keeping a distance, building a wall. It never happened before until I told her how I felt.” 

“Did you ask her whether she made any decision?” 

“No.” 

“And then? Did you talk after she got back to California?” 

“I asked her out to the cafe when she got back and wanted to talk about it all. But…” 

“But?” Noah shook up. 

“When I came there, she wasn’t alone. You were there with her, too..” 

“Oh…” Noah suddenly recalled how Andrea was almost screaming out of excitement over the phone that there was a new, sick  cafe near Scott’s house, and they definitely had to go there all together! No excuses accepted.

“Yeah… So I started getting mad at you. I was getting mad at everyone who was together with us, when we could, as I thought, spend some time alone. I know, it’s unfair. Andrea was the one to invite all of those people, who had been bothering us. She didn’t want us to be alone together. She didn’t want me to bring up the topic of our hypothetical relationships. She probably didn’t consider me to be her boyfriend in the first place. However, she doesn’t want to tell me straight about it for some reason. That’s why I’m still hoping for something; can you imagine it? I still have hope, though I’m mad. I’m not only mad at the others; I’m also mad at Andrea. Why doesn’t she tell me straight? I’m mad at myself, too. I could’ve asked her a long time ago, but I’m afraid of the answer. This harem of guys surrounding her speaks clearly that she doesn’t need me in her life! No! Nothing of that matters. This is all just a fling, nothing serious. Andrea can build a long, serious, and good relationship with me because she didn’t say ‘no’! She said, ‘I need to think about it!’ It’s not the same!.. Yes, I’m an idiot!” Scott agreed, even though Noah didn’t say anything, “And a wuss. I’m just watching a girl I have a crush on sending photos in her underwear to some dumb mimbos! Yet I’m fantasizing about some big love. Yeah, sure… I just hate myself.” 

“Scott, stop it. You’re not a wuss, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” Noah assured his friend. 

“I am a wuss!” the guy insisted. 

“You need to have a talk with Andrea. I’m sure there should be a reason for her behavior. I don’t know why, though. The situation seems pretty clear right now, but... Nothing can be one hundred percent clear. Andrea isn’t such a cruel maneater. She wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“She would! She already did!” Scott screamed out, pulling his hair so hard that it looked like he wanted to pull it out entirely.

“Then we need to find out why she did that,” Noah announced, “Today at lunch, you’ll tell her everything. Or I’ll do it,” he stated. 

“No, I won’t,” Scott said, shaking his head sadly. 

“Why is that so?” 

“Andrea and I had a big fight yesterday after you left. She even threw an empty juice box at me,” Scott said with a suffering look. 

“Wow, if Ethan was there, he would suggest you sue her for assault and non-pecuniary damage!” Noah joked. Scott, however, didn’t share his sense of humor and continued to frown. 

“You and him... You got so close,” he said, trying to find the right words, “I’m sorry; I know that it’s not my business, but... Don’t you think everything’s happening too fast?” 

“What’s happening? We’re just friends.” Noah shrugged his shoulders. 

“I’m sure you’re aware that it’s impossible to be friends  with a person you like,” Scott snorted, “It’s impossible, no matter how hard you try. It will be getting difficult day after day,” there was no reason not to believe Scott. He had done enough research to write a thesis already. Or, maybe, two.

“You’re right,” Noah sighed heavily. It seemed that Scott and Noah were in the same boat. 

“Just, please, be careful, okay? Don’t sink into feelings for Thomson until you’re sure that this guy deserves your heart and trust,” Scott added, noticing Noah’s sullen look. He tried to stress the point that their problems were different, and Noah’s struggle wasn’t about mutuality. It was more about a guy he had a crush on. 

‘Too late,’ Noah thought. He was head over heels about him. 

“Sure thing,” he said out loud. Should he bring up the topic of Andrea having a possible crush on Ethan? Was it a good time to talk about that? No. Of course, not. It wasn’t a good time. It was the worst time, “Let’s talk about Andrea. You know she’s never angry for a long time. I don’t think that your fight the other day will keep you away from seeing her at lunch,” Morgan assured, “So that you can get clear.” 

“To be honest, I hoped so this morning, so I texted her. Andrea didn’t even ignore me. She answered that she was leaving to her grandparents for some time. So that we could talk after she gets back. She also asked not to call or text her while she’s away. It’s a bad sign.” 

“Well, she used to do that sometimes before. And she asked not to call or text her before. It always seemed strange to me. Strangely typical for Andrea,” Noah specified, trying to hide his worries about his friend. Indeed, Andrea had done something like that before. And every time Morgan was worried about her. When an extrovert person would suddenly get lost for no reason, that always felt alarming. However, no matter how hard Noah tried talking to Andrea about the reasons why she had been doing that, she just made jokes about it.

“She did, yeah. But not at the beginning of the semester. And not so suddenly, without saying anything. Also, we were supposed to perform in ‘I want you deadly’ this Friday. She didn’t tell anyone from the band, I’ve already asked. She definitely left because of what had happened. And it’s my fault. I feel terrible. I deserve it.” 

“Stop blaming yourself! It won’t help fixing the problem,” Noah noticed, frowning, “Andrea’s reaction looks like she’s trying to run away from her problems.” 

“Exactly.” 

“But she can’t stay at her grandparents’ forever. You said it yourself—it’s the beginning of a semester. Andrea’s quite responsible. She wouldn’t miss out on her studies because of some minor misunderstanding between us. Which means she’ll come back in a couple of days. It’s for the best! We’ll have plenty of time to think about a nice gesture from you. Something she won’t resist!” 

“Like what?” Scott asked skeptically. 

“We need some time to think about it. But I’m sure we’ll come up with something. We both know Andrea quite well to make her happy. You just have to charm her!” 

“You think?” Scott continued frowning, but his face beamed with a smile. Okay, maybe he didn’t believe in Noah’s idea, but still... There was a little hope in his eyes. 

“I’m sure,” Noah nodded, “And now stand up. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late for class.” 

“Do you need a ride?” 

“No. Ethan’s going to pick me up.” 

“Hm…” Scott scratched the tip of his nose embarrassedly, “At least, now we know for sure that Thomson’s gay,” he mumbled. 

“No, we don’t,” Noah shook his head, “We never talked about it. If you start the same conversation that he’s gay because he chose me, and not…”

“No-no, that’s not what I meant,” Scott interrupted Noah immediately, “However, just think about it: a guy comes over to your house when you’re feeling down in the dumps and spends the night with you.” 

“You could’ve done the same thing,” Noah noticed, “Which you did, not once. You’re a guy, and you've spent nights with me before. Just admit that you’re in love with me then!” Noah expressed terror on his face, and Scott laughed tensely. Finally, that wrinkle on his nose bridge disappeared. 

“That’s true. But we’ve been friends for a long time already. How long have you known Ethan? Two weeks? Only some saint guy, who has nothing to do with Ethan, would start fixing someone’s problems after knowing them for a couple of weeks. I think that if Ethan entered the church, it would catch on fire,” Noah pictured that immediately and confirmed that this image definitely fit into Ethan Thomson’s world view. “However, if Ethan has feelings different from friendship, it’s a whole different game,” Scott said with a conspiratorial look, “He’s definitely into you.” 

“Don’t give me false hope,” Noah shook his head, “The least thing I want is to build castles in the air again and fall down from them with no parachute,” he snorted.

“Okay, I’ll pretend I didn’t notice the way he’s looking at you. Like a wolf at a lamb.” 

“Wolves eat lambs,” Noah reminded Scott. 

“Are you sure? Pornhub would argue that,” Scott noticed innocently, “Considering that university today is just going crazy because Ethan confirmed you two have some sort of relationship...” 

Oops. 

“He was just making fun of my bullies,” Noah waved off, pushing Scott out of the flat, then leaving it and closing the door. They could continue their chit-chatting, but university lecturers wouldn’t wait on anyone. 

“Just making fun? Oh, I’m sure you’re just  naive,” Scott chuckled. 

“Don’t be silly,” Noah mumbled, trying to hide his embarrassment and how cheerful he felt after his friend’s words. Surprisingly, Scott was usually right about these matters. Before Noah told Matthew about his feelings but was already following him everywhere around campus, Scott was certain that his interest was mutual. However, he also insisted that Matthew was a jerk. Scott was right about everything. Speaking of Ethan, Noah wanted to believe in their mutual chemistry. Noah ignored everything that was being said about Thomson being dangerous. Yes, it seemed like pink glasses were back on his face. Still, Noah didn’t want to throw the hope of dating Ethan aside just because he hypothetically could get hurt. He who goes into the sea should never be afraid of storms. 

“Is Thomson a virgin? What do you think?” the conversation was getting interesting colors. 

“I don’t think so,” Noah said, shaking his head. Apparently, he should’ve asked Scott to shut up. His love for dirty talk was over the line sometimes. On the other hand, that was why Noah preferred talking about things related to sex around him. Scott never felt ashamed about bringing up that subject. Due to that fact, sex-related conversations felt more like sophisticated small talks. 

“Yeah, I also don’t think he’s an innocent flower,” Scott shared his opinion, “What do you think, is he a top?”

Noah flushed. 

‘That’d be awesome.’

“I have no idea,” he said, feeling his cheeks turning red. 

“How do people even understand which role they prefer?” Scott tapped on his chin thoughtfully, as if he was trying to solve some difficult math problem. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Well, you want to be underneath someone, not on top. Where does it come from? What made you think so?”

Noah already regretted making it up with Scott! He just wouldn’t stop talking about things he shouldn’t have! 

“Well, I don’t dream about someone shoving something in my ass,” Noah mumbled angrily. Even though sometimes he did see something like that in his dreams, “It’s more about...” 

“Well?” 

“I’d like to...” 

“Aha.” 

“I like that feeling that I...” 

“That you what?” Scott didn’t think about quitting. 

“That I’m desirable.” 

“I thought that tops desire bottoms, and vice versa. Am I wrong?” 

“God!” Noah grunted, “Why are we even talking about it?!”

“Why shouldn’t we?” 

“I don’t know what to say. I just want him to... 

“You want him to fuck you?” Scott hinted. Noah got mad. 

“For fuck’s sake, yes! I want him to fuck me! Are you happy?”

Scott was silent. 

“I wish Andrea felt something like that for me one day,” he sighed with grief in his voice, “I guess it feels nice when someone wants you to fuck them. Ethan’s lucky.” 

Noah had mixed feelings. On one hand, he wanted to cut the talk about Ethan; on the other – Scott’s thoughts about Andrea got him off guard. Probably his friend just wanted to hide the pain behind these comments. The pain he had because of the situation with his friend, or better say, with his might-have-been girlfriend. If that was true, Noah should’ve been patient about it. 

“Do you think he has a big dick?” 

Or not so patient! 

“Scott, are you out of your mind?! I have no clue what Ethan…” 

“Well, it’s possible to notice something. For example, when he was sitting down. Didn’t you look closely?” 

“Scott!” 

“He’s a bit short, but I saw guys with such huge junk on Pornhub I could only dream of. And I’m almost 6’2! However, everything could be completely opposite. What if his dick is only a couple of inches long when he’s hard-on?” 

“I don’t know how the conversation ended with discussing the length of my penis, but if you’re so curious, my body’s quite proportional.” 

Scott and Noah already came downstairs, but they were so busy (discussing Thomson’s penis)  that they didn’t notice Ethan standing at the door. 

‘What a wonderful day for a suicide,’ Noah thought, feeling his heart skip a beat. The level of humiliation reached incredible heights over the past half an hour. 

“Does proportional mean small?” Scott didn’t seem bothered at all!

“Proportional means average,” Ethan answered half-heartedly, “I never ran around with a rule to measure it. I’d say something like 5.5 inches. I would show it to you, but, unfortunately, I don’t find your stupid face attractive in any way.” 

“Yeah, sure. I see you prefer more good-looking guys,” Scott snapped back. Of course, when he said ‘good-looking’, he meant Noah. Morgan had already opened his mouth to finish the conversation, but Ethan was faster. 

“Oh, so you’re one of those geniuses, who thinks the more, the better? Well, I’ll give you advice, so you won’t screw up in front of your girlfriend; I suggest you google what clitoris is, where it is located, and what you should do with it,” Thomson advised, “Instead of bragging about your size and showing off in front of the mirror, you better train your tongue,” Ethan said, and he showed a cunnilingus sign with his two fingers and a tongue between them. 

“Yeah, I think I’ll take your advice,” Scott chuckled. Luckily for Noah, he decided not to start a fight out of nowhere, “Okay, I gotta go. I’ll see you at lunch?” he asked, looking at Morgan. 

“Sure!” Noah nodded. 

“No, that’s not going to happen,” Ethan shook his head, “We need to find one woman at lunch.” 

“What woman?” Scott didn’t get it. 

“Damn, I completely forgot! Um… I’ll tell you later!” Noah promised, “And now we really need to go,” he mumbled, pushing Scott gently outside the building before he said anything else embarrassing. 

“Okay, see ya,” Scott didn’t want to argue, “You should think about our earlier conversation,” he said, before going towards his car. 

“Conversation about my dick?” Thomson reacted immediately, burning Noah with his look. 

It was definitely the best morning for a suicide ever . 

“I have no idea how it ended with... Ugh!” Noah scurried, “I’m sorry!” 

“I’m tired of you saying you’re sorry,” Ethan grunted, “Well... How much taller are you? Like four inches? How tall are you?” he asked suddenly. 

“Well… I don’t know for sure. Something between 5' 8" and 5' 9",” Noah didn’t know his actual height. 

“Oh. So, you’re not four, you’re almost six inches taller.” 

Ethan’s voice remained calm, but he was definitely getting mad. 

“I don’t know,” Noah mumbled. 

“What about the dick?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Do you know how long your penis is?” 

Noah should’ve gotten embarrassed, but he was losing it. At first, it was Scott, now it was Ethan. What’s their problem?! 

“I have no clue how long my penis is!” he was mad, “I never measured it!” 

“Oh, why is that so?” Ethan shook his head, like he was expressing disapproval. 

“Because… Who fucking cares?” Noah screamed out of bewilderment. Thomson smiled ironically. 

“That’s the right answer,” he nodded. What the hell is he talking about?

“And you… Why are you here? You said you were going to wait in the car, weren’t you?” Noah started to understand that something wasn’t right. Ethan didn’t answer, he just stared at the street, where the small rain had already turned into a shower. 

‘It would be funny if I froze in the middle of the street because the rain started.’

No. It wasn’t funny at all. 

5' 3"

Scott turned out to be smarter than Ethan thought when he met him for the first time. He didn’t just start the topic (he was definitely the one who began talking about it) about Thomson’s size out of the blue. He was making fun of poor Morgan, who could easily fall for it. Considering how casually they talked with Noah, Ethan understood that the conflict was over, which didn’t make him happy. Unfortunately, Morgan was one of those people who could forgive easily and be apologetic about everything all the time. Scott was definitely aware of it, and he used these traits for his own good.

It was interesting how the conversation between Noah and Scott would’ve ended if Ethan hadn’t interrupted them. Morgan would then sit in Thomson’s car, red as a tomato, and then he would definitely avoid his direct look for days. It was a pity that Ethan lost a chance to mock Noah a little bit. And he lost it because of a stupid reason—it was raining. 

As soon as a couple of cold drops landed on his head, Ethan jumped back under the roof unconsciously, trying to calm his beating heart. Acidly-bright pictures shredded by tranquilizers hit his temples and his solar plexus, making Thomson choke on air. 

He just wasn’t used to it. The summer in California was dry. Ethan preferred staying at home when there were rare rainy days. Well, on sunny days, too. As a result, the control that Thomson felt in May vanished in September, like he had never had it. The sounds of rain that Ethan would usually turn on in the car helped him pull himself together a little bit. But that was it. 

He should’ve asked Morgan for an umbrella. However, he didn’t want to interrupt their conversation. No, he needed to collect himself and run towards his car by himself. 

Ethan tried to make himself do it. He really did. Not once. But he remained inside until Noah and Scott showed up. 

“I’ll go bring an umbrella,” Morgan said matter-of-factly. He didn’t want to emphasize Ethan’s condition, but he understood immediately that Noah had remembered their conversation on the way to the retirement home. Thomson didn’t go into details, but Noah just needed a single phrase to remember. 

“No,” Ethan shook his head and turned towards the exit, sure that he was able to go outside in the rain, “Or yes,” he said quietly after a minute of remaining on the same spot. He couldn’t regain control easily, no matter how hard he wanted it. Problems like that one were impossible to solve with just willpower. 

Morgan ran up the stairs silently, and soon he came down to Ethan, holding the umbrella in his hand. First, he went outside, opened the umbrella above his head, and welcomed Ethan with a gesture. Standing underneath the umbrella that had a picture of a blue sky with seldom white clouds, Noah seemed the only source of warmth, surrounded by everyday grayness. Speaking of Ethan, he pictured himself as a wild animal hiding in the dark cave and not having the guts to step outside his shady asylum. 

Finally, Thomson stepped outside to join Noah under the umbrella. The car was standing right there. Just several steps away. However, Morgan helped Ethan get in the car first, and only after he got in the driver’s seat did Noah go around the car and plop down into the passenger's seat. 

“Who knew it would rain so hard,” Morgan snorted, holding the wet umbrella between his thighs. He had to spread them a bit wider so that the water dripping from the umbrella wouldn’t wet his jeans or his seat. Anyone would’ve thought that it was the right decision. Ethan, however, was thinking that someone else should’ve spread his legs, not an umbrella. 

“By the way,” Noah took the pen out of the pocket and handed it to Ethan, “It wasn’t necessary, but thank you.” 

“You can keep it.” 

“No, I've told you before that I’m not a fan of blade weapons. I won’t feel comfortable with a knife in my pocket.” 

“I’ll feel comfortable, though,” Ethan smirked, placing his hands on the steering wheel. 

“That’s selfish,” Noah noticed. 

“I never said I was a self-sacrificing lover of mankind,” Thomson grunted, “You’re calm when you worry about others being safe. I’m calm when I know you’re safe. And yes, in this case, I think my comfort is more important than yours.” 

“You’re such an…ass,” Noah said with a look like he couldn’t believe his ears. It amused Ethan. 

“Did you just get it?” he smiled. 

“Oh, screw you,” Morgan said, frowning. However, he put the pen back in his pocket. 

Good boy.

Ethan and Noah decided to meet near Morgan’s department at lunch to walk around the campus and search for that girl who was responsible for the stupid picture with a coffee cup. Morgan was skeptical, claiming that there were too many people at the university and that it was as easy to find her as it was to find a needle in a haystack. Ethan was on the urge to say that it was way easier to find a needle when you could just burn the haystack. Morgan also worried that his memory could play him false, so he wouldn’t be able to recognize the girl. Ethan didn’t say anything about that. It was true that their search might not show the result they hoped for, but he had a feeling that they were able to find that girl. He had that feeling on Tuesday, when the search showed no results. He had the same feeling on Wednesday, even though it ended with nothing. On Thursday, when anyone else would’ve started giving up, Thomson still had the same hope; when Morgan was sitting cross-legged on the bench, feeding pigeons some bread, and suddenly said:

“Oh, there she is.”

Chapter Text

5' 3”

Morgan’s vague description the other day helped Ethan recognize the guilty girl. A rather short blond girl with a doll’s face was chit-chatting with her friends. Her ringing laugh spreading around the campus’ park made Thomson angry. So, apparently, while Morgan was suffering from endless bullying, she was chuckling and pointing at some fashion magazine with her sharp nail? Or maybe she was choosing another pair of shoes and a new silk scarf, not having a single thought about Noah, who was locking himself up in a restroom to give vent to his feelings? Well. Ethan wanted to bring her down to earth and remind her that there are usually consequences to people’s actions.

Even though the phone calls ended the next day (some bullies just got bored after this kind of interaction with Morgan since he never picked up; others were afraid that Ethan would be the one to pick up the phone), however, messages were coming in rather often. On Tuesday, after their pointless search for the girl who had taken a photo, Noah and Ethan were sitting in the cafeteria, when Morgan, after scrolling through the new messages, suddenly became pale.

“What’s going on?” Ethan asked, reaching for his hand to take the phone from Noah.

“N-nothing,” Morgan stuttered. However, the answer didn’t match his facial expression. Despite his weak opposition, Ethan took the phone and looked through the text.

“I want to press your face against the table, spread your legs, and fuck you in your dirty hole,” Ethan read eagerly and looked at Noah’s reaction from under his brows. Morgan was no longer pale. He was scarlet-red.

“Jesus Christ, why did you need to read it out loud?” Morgan exclaimed, confused.

What do you mean, and why? So that every next message you receive, you read it in your head with my intonation. Hopefully, you’ll get a reaction different from fear.

‘My dirty hole belongs to Ethan Thomson. Go fuck yourself,’ Ethan typed the message, sent it, and erased it immediately after. Noah’s attempts to see what Thomson had written didn’t work, and Ethan didn’t give any answers, despite how hard Noah was asking.

“How much will it cost if I blow you? I’m good at it,” Ethan continued reading the new messages.

‘My boyfriend sucks dicks like he’s God. You can’t beat him. Go fuck yourself.’

“You’re such a sweet boy. I want to lick you from head to toe.”

‘You better pray my boyfriend doesn’t see this message, or else he’ll lick your balls with his knife. Go fuck yourself.’

“I want to come on your face.”

“Please, stop!” it seemed that even Morgan’s flushed red. He finally managed to get his phone back from Ethan’s hands and hid the phone back in his pocket.

“Wait, don’t put it away. Let me copy the numbers of those bastards first,” Ethan asked. Some numbers were hidden. However, there were still some of those who were either too lazy to hide the number, or maybe they truly believed in their innocence. They would be the first to get their punishment.

“Why do you need them?” Morgan tightened. Ethan just shrugged his shoulders innocently.

“Just because. For my collection.”

Duncan could find everything they needed on these bastards with the help of those numbers.

“What collection?”

“Private.”

“Ethan, don’t try fooling me.”

“I wasn’t going to. I know the guy who can find some useful information on these phone numbers’ owners. We’ll find out all their names.”

“No. I don’t want to do that,” Noah said, shaking his head.

I want to do that, though.

“By the way, that person can also help us find your bully,” Ethan added carefully. He came to know him well enough to understand Noah’s possible reaction. And Thomson wasn’t wrong.

Morgan’s facial expression became incomprehensible for a second. It seemed that he dove so deep into his thoughts that there was only an emotionless physical shell left.

“N…no, please. I think we’re doing just fine on our own!” Noah stated.

They didn’t do fine at all. They were just going nowhere fast, just showering guesses.

Sometimes Morgan behaved like a true idiot. He was committing a fatal error at that moment: he was trying to refuse effective help in favor of spending more time with Ethan. Morgan persuaded himself that they talked every day only because of Ethan’s curiosity, trying to be Hercule Poirot. However, everything was completely opposite in reality: the detective game became a good excuse for Ethan to see Noah more often. Well, of course, Thomson’s strong sense of justice also took place. However, Noah was always in the first place for him, everything else didn’t matter as much.

Ethan decided not to insist that day, choosing a different, softer strategy. Though he noticed the next day that, whenever Morgan would open a new message on his phone, his cheeks would start burning. His plan was working. Reading messages out loud did make Noah think the way Ethan wanted. Thank you for your sensitiveness, Morgan.

“Wait,” Ethan was about to approach the blondy when Noah grabbed his hood from the back and pulled it towards himself.

“If you do that one more time, I swear we’ll fight,” Thomson said in a metallic voice. He hated feeling weak. And he also couldn’t ignore when someone else was weak. Especially when that ‘someone’ was Noah. That was why Ethan hated changing roles with Noah and becoming a crazy dwarf who could be grabbed and pulled around by his hood instead of the juvenile lead he wanted to be.

“I’m sorry, I just got scared,” Noah mumbled, releasing Ethan’s hood immediately, “What are you going to do?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to ask her about the photo.”

“Why do you think she’ll tell you everything?”

“They all tell,” Noah said, cracking his knuckles.

“You… You won’t punch her, will you?!”

Actually, no. Usually, threatening was enough. However, it would be interesting to look at Noah’s reaction if Thomson’s position was way more radical.

“The enemy has no gender,” Ethan stated, “No gender, no age, no other characteristics.”

“Who do you think is the enemy, then?” Noah frowned. Weird question.

“Currently, everyone who’s poisoning your life.”

Noah sighed heavily.

“Ethan, please, let me speak with her first,” he said with pressure.

“I’m not sure it’ll turn out well, considering that you think that this whole conversation is pointless from the beginning,” Ethan noticed.

“It will, it will,” Noah assured him, “After all, I’ve got my ‘Devil’s Eye’ with me,” he reminded him with a sad smile.

“I thought you didn’t like using it against anyone,” Ethan couldn’t believe his ears.

“I don’t. However, it doesn’t mean that I’ve never used it before,” Morgan grunted. What a little villain.

“Okay. I’ll try not to interfere,” Ethan lied. He definitely wanted to interfere anywhere he wasn’t invited.

“Thanks,” Noah nodded and then approached the girl. Ethan followed him a half step behind to cover his back. He kept noticing how people were looking at Morgan. Some even looked like they wanted to say something to him. However, right before doing that, they would meet with the eyes of Ethan, and, surprisingly, all their comments were untold. It was a pity that Ethan wasn’t able to be near Noah all the time. While Thomson was in the class, he always wanted to text Morgan every other minute to make sure that he was okay. Sometimes Ethan controlled himself. Sometimes he did text Noah. However, Morgan, in his usual manner, assured him positively that everything was, at least, ‘wonderful’, so ‘don’t worry.’ If there was anyone else saying ‘don’t worry’, Ethan would answer something like, ‘I wasn’t even going to.’ When it was about Morgan, however, Ethan had to worry. Of course, Noah had built a thick skin after years of constant bullying and aggression towards him. Still, deep inside, he was just a vulnerable guy. He didn’t learn to ignore the hard knock; he had rather learned to hide his pain and bruises. And each day, each time Morgan said something depressing, Ethan wanted to find out the bully more badly. It would be awesome if he could do it and humiliate that person publicly. However, it’d depend on how the cards fall.

Noah and Ethan went across the park to the group of freshmen girls who were gossiping and giggling about the new young philosophy professor. The blond girl responsible for the photo was standing half-turned towards Ethan and Noah, completely concentrated on her conversation with the friends. The girls who were facing the guys made it look like they were too tough after noticing them approaching. Luckily, neither Morgan nor Ethan wanted to hit on them.

After coming close enough, Morgan got a bit confused. Probably he was trying to come up with a way to get the girl’s attention.

“Hey, you, bitch,” Ethan told him. Yes, it was rather rude. However, that move drew everyone’s attention, including the blonde girl.

“What have you just said?” one of them snapped back.

“You heard it.”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Ladies first.”

“Men are fucking garbage!” they heard from the side.

“Fucking garbage is someone who doesn’t understand the consequences after doing something. Just like your girlfriend here,” Ethan looked at Blondy. At first, she seemed confused, then she noticed Noah, and her face became pale. “You fool a person into taking a picture and then become a criminal participant since the picture was used to bully that person. Don’t you think you’re garbage now? It’s time to explain.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the blond girl said bravely, since she was surrounded by her friends. They would never let anyone hurt her. It would be a lot easier to make her talk if she was alone. But Ethan thought it would be safer for him and Morgan to do it publicly. Or else they would give this suspicious, unreliable girl an opportunity to turn the tables for her own benefit, accusing them of assault afterward or something worse. The thing that scared Ethan the most was the fact that, because of people like her, real victims could find help.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” Ethan clenched his teeth unintentionally, “You took a picture of Morgan on Monday. The one that appeared in the anonymous chat later,” Thomson took out his phone, found the message he needed, and demonstrated the picture.

“Yes, I took it,” the blonde confirmed suddenly, “He was the one who asked me to do it,” she said, completely unbothered by the fact that Morgan was standing right there. She lied without batting an eye. Noah looked pale.

“That’s not true!” he exclaimed in despair, as if he was sure that Ethan would believe her if he didn’t deny her words immediately. Thomson looked at Noah.

“I know,” he said calmly.

“Everybody knows about Morgan’s reputation. If you’re his new fucker, that doesn’t mean that he would suddenly become sweet and nice,” the girl, who called all men garbage, said.

“The most disgusting people are those who build an opinion about a person based on nasty rumors,” Ethan grunted, looking daggers at the girl, “Now you’re no better than European men of science from the 19th century who assumed, with no scientific proof whatsoever, that women’s hysteria was caused by their uterus and the best cure for it was penis. Or else — a dildo.”

Ethan gave this example on purpose, assuming that this kind of absurdity would be more understandable for the girls. Penis isn’t a magic pill for women, just as Morgan isn’t a local slut. Unfortunately, everybody didn’t seem to care about Thomson’s arguments. His proof just caused a wave of annoyed shouting. Somebody started saying aggressive phrases about men again.

“Oh, you don’t like how it sounds, do you? I guess Morgan doesn’t like being gossiped about for three years, either. You do it like you know something about him. If you don’t even want to try thinking critically, that’s your right. But, please, don’t yell about it everywhere. Don’t bring shame upon yourselves,” Ethan said sharply.

The girls were still arguing that these two topics ‘weren’t the same.’ However, their arguments were weak because they started getting the idea after some time that these topics were actually talking about the same thing. The only difference was that the victim wasn’t part of the whole population, but one person.

“Answer, who asked you to take this damn photo?” Ethan demanded, staring at the blond girl, “If you tell us, we’ll pretend like we’ve never seen you before.”

“I’ve told you already, he was the one to ask me!” the girl shook her hair, insisting on her point. Ethan narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists unintentionally. This move didn’t go unnoticed by the other girls.

“Rufus!” one of the blonde’s girlfriends jumped from the step where she had been sitting and waved her hand, drawing the guy’s attention. Ethan hoped that it was some other Rufus, not the one he knew. After all, there were probably thousands of Rufuses around the campus. The universe, though, decided not to miss the opportunity to make another joke about Thomson.

Hughes approached the girls, beaming with his Hollywood smile. He was smiling until his attention moved from the freshmen to Morgan and Ethan. At first he noticed Noah and frowned in disgust. Then he noticed Ethan. And then he turned pale.

“What’s going on?” Hughes asked drily.

“This jackass accuses our friend of God knows what. And he also threatens to punch her!”

Here was what Ethan was afraid of. Lies, lies, lies.

Rufus knew that Ethan would never accuse anyone for no reason. But he also remembered how Thomson attacked the guy at his party. Hughes didn’t know the reason for the fight, which meant that he probably pictured Ethan as a complete freak.

“Ethan, is it true?”

“No. I haven’t threatened anyone yet. Now I’m just trying to dig for the truth,” Etha hissed, shifting his gaze from one girl to another.

“Your department is located the other way,” Hughes notices, trying to sound peaceful, “Maybe you should better dig for the truth there?”

“Maybe, you should hold your pointless advice to yourself then?” Ethan suggested coldly.

“Aren’t you satisfied with your punk reputation? Do you want the whole university to hate you?” Rufus just wouldn’t stop demonstrating to Ethan his peculiar way of worrying about him. That was why Audrey never reciprocated his feelings. He was a wimp, dependent on other opinions.

“As far as I know, you don’t need to do anything to make the whole university hate you. There’s some jerk who can always make up stupid gossip and send it to the anonymous chat,” Ethan said angrily.

“The more you try protecting Morgan, the worse your position is,” Hughes noticed, “I don’t know what he told you, but…

“He told me nothing but the truth,” Ethan cut off.

“Thomson, wake up already! This guy” — Hughes pointed at Morgan — “He’s dragging you down with him! Why do you think he doesn’t lie to you? Do you think you’re that special? He told you a couple of tearful stories, and here you are feeling sorry for him, right? Do you even know what he’s been texting about you to those prankers? That you’re his boyfriend. That you’re fucking! Everybody’s been talking about it for the past couple of days!” he exclaimed wholeheartedly.

“We do fuck, okay,” Ethan confirmed immediately. It was worth telling, at least to see Rufus’ reaction. “Didn’t you notice? We’re doing it right now,” Thomson added with pressure, “Here, I already pulled Morgan down to the ground. Do you see it? I’m taking his pants off. Right here. On the lawn. It’s the perfect content for the chat, don’t you think? Come on, text about it to the administrator of that filthy machine. I hope that by the end of the day, everybody will have been talking about Thomson and Morgan fucking passionately on school property in front of all these people. Is that how it works? Did I get the rules of the game right?”

“Ethan, you’re going from one extreme to another, as usual,” Rufus said, frowning, “But I won’t let you raise your hand against the girl while you’re being hysterical! You should go to the doctor! I’m telling you, you need professional help!”

“This whole ‘hysteria’ used to be called the truth. Unfortunately, people seem to love swimming in these lies, so that every crusader looks insane to them. No, I think that you should see a doctor. You’re people who enjoy bullying others. Moral sadism is a serious psychiatric deviation. We need to be a civilized society. The university used to be a place for thinking and talented people. We’re going to be responsible for the future of our country. I don’t think people will be happy when they find out that their future is in the hands of intellectual marginals who fight for human rights on social media, and yet still bully an innocent person and accuse him of everything just because it feels comfortable for them.”

“Ethan, I’ve warned you…” Rufus grunted, taking a step towards Thomson, “Don’t think I’ll be afraid to punch you. You can threaten me with court all you want, I won’t let you touch innocent people.”

“Everybody’s guilty,” Ethan said in a rage, “Some are guilty of bullying. Others — of being indifferent. But, okay, I swear, there’ll be no court. Punch me. I’ll warn you, though: punch me hard and right. It would be better if I never stood up after that. Because that is the only reason that can really affect me. Your position, unfortunately, will be way weaker than mine, right, Rufus?”

“What are you talking about?” Hughes looked nervous.

“Right now, your present and future lives depend on sports. Which means that if I injured you hard enough, you would be able to be a part of our basketball team. The life you’ve been dreaming about will be over. The only simple fracture of your leg should be enough.”

Rufus stepped back unwillingly. The girls were silent. Things were heating up.

“Okay, enough,” Noah’s voice sounded lower than usual, which gave Ethan goosebumps. Thomson thought that he had already gotten used to Noah’s voice. But he was wrong. “There will be no fight. And there will be no injuries, either,” he said, looking at Ethan, “We just want to find out who asked you to take the photo. We’ll leave as soon as you give the information,” he told the blonde girl. She smirked skeptically. No, she definitely didn’t want to speak. “May I tell you something? In private?” Noah asked calmly.

“Yeah, sure,” the girl snorted, folding her arms against her chest. Her friends gathered around her, ready to protect her at all costs. This loyalty in their friendship felt unreal. Ethan would be impressed unless he didn’t know that they’d been protecting lies. Even though they couldn’t understand it themselves.

“I can whisper it in your ear. May I?”

“Don’t you dare come closer,” one of the girls threatened.

“Say it so the rest can hear,” the other suggested.

“I can’t,” Noah said, shaking his head, “She wouldn’t want any of you to know,” he said, cracking a sly smile. Smart move. Playing dirty and not giving important information, though, shows that you’re aware of something. Good job, Morgan.

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” the blonde girl told everyone.

“Are you sure?” Noah asked as if he was perfectly aware of the opposite. The blonde got confused.

“Okay,” she changed her decision suddenly, “I agree, not because I’ve got secrets. I’m just curious,” she assured her friends. Noah came close to her, covered his mouth, and started whispering something. Her face changed immediately, and then she even jumped back from Noah. Her eyes were screaming, ‘How the hell do you know it?! ’”

“Somebody texted me,” she rattled, forgetting about her friends and what they might’ve thought, “They promised me a hundred bucks for a picture. They told me everything they wanted to see in the picture.”

“A hundred bucks,” Ethan grunted, “You’re cheap.”

“Ethan, enough,” Noah grunted at him.

“Okay,” Thomson shrugged his shoulders, “Why did they want exactly you?” he asked the next question.

“What do you mean?”

“The guy could offer a hundred bucks to anyone. There are thousands of people at the university. Why did he offer them to you? Have you already helped them with something before? Do you know them?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I don’t know who admins the anonymous chat. It was the first time they’ve texted me.”

“Then why did they choose you?”

“I’m telling you I don’t know.”

“It happened on Monday, right?” one of the girls suddenly decided to take part in the conversation. Everybody looked at her. “Do you remember that morning when you were screaming that you wanted to buy a new vinyl for your collection? But you were short on money, and your parents didn’t want to pitch in. Remember?”

The girl frowned, trying to recall Monday morning events.

“Oh, that’s true,” she mumbled slowly. It meant that the person they needed was somewhere near enough to hear what she had said. The bully went to the same cafeteria as Noah and the blonde girl. He could see Morgan every morning. The suspicions about them being close to Noah were verified.

Ethan took his phone out.

“Forward me the messages from this person,” he asked.

“I can’t. As soon as I sent him the picture, he deleted everything.”

“Did you delete your messages in the chat with him?”

“No.”

“You should’ve. It’s extremely important to destroy all the evidence immediately,” he chuckled, “Okay, show me the chat.”

Blondy opened the chat unwillingly.

“All data is hidden. You won’t see any names or phone numbers,” she warned.

“Nickname is fine,” Ethan assured her. He copied that random nickname and turned to Noah, “See, and you said that would be pointless.”

5' 8"-5' 9”

Noah shouldn’t have felt embarrassed because of the girl who became a partaker of another stupid joke. He shouldn’t have felt embarrassed because of her friends. Especially because of Rufus Hughes. However, he was sick at heart for some reason.

“I don’t like your style,” he said, as soon as Thomson and him left the company of students and shocked Hughes.

“Do you like the way these people treat you?” Ethan asked in a businesslike manner.

“I don’t, but I don’t want to sink to their level.”

“You can’t do it the other way with some people. The thing is not to sink to their level. Most importantly, you need to find the right time to go back up after sinking in.”

“I can’t agree with you on that one,” Noah said, shaking his head.

“Okay. You don’t have to agree with me on everything. As well as I don’t need to. So what? Does it mean you’ll stop talking with me?”

No. But…” — Noah seemed confused — “If you had hit that girl, then, I think, I would’ve stopped,” he confessed.

“I wouldn’t have hit her,” Ethan said coldly.

“You looked as if you had.”

“I wanted it to look the way it looked. I’ve never hit a person weaker than me in my entire life. Never. And I never will,” Thomson said, “Who do you think I am, God damn it!”

“I think you’re a person who’s capable of doing anything,” Noah grunted.

“Then why don’t you expect something nice?” Ethan suggested, “By the way, what did you whisper in her ear so seductively? I’m curious.”

“I won’t tell you,” Noah frowned, “That’s her secret.”

“My lips are sealed. I won’t tell anyone,” Ethan assured.

“Sure. You’d rather use it against her,” Noah frowned. He thought Ethan would get mad, but Thomson just shrugged his shoulders. He decided not to argue with Morgan.

“Do you have classes today?”

“Yes, in half an hour,” Noah confirmed.

“Skip.”

“Huh?”

“Skip the class. There are more important things that we need to do,” Ethan showed his phone with the nickname of a possible bully. Noah had no idea what he wanted to do with it. “I insist we ask the person I’ve already mentioned before. Something’s got to give. Even if you think you can handle it, don’t forget that you might not be the only victim. If you don’t want to protect yourself, protect those who can become the victims of that bastard after you.”

Fair enough. Noah swallowed soundly.

“Is that friend some hacker, or something?” he asked modestly, trying not to think about the answer.

“No. He’s not a hacker. He’s not my friend, either. He’s our family’s bodyguard. Duncan can easily find those who don’t want to be found. I think it is about time to ask for his help. But, of course, I won’t do it unless you agree.”

Noah hesitated. It sounded a bit too serious and threatening.

“I’m not sure…”

“What are you afraid of?”

Noah was afraid of many things. For example, he was afraid of the truth he might not like. Andrea was still silent, and the more she didn’t text, the more suspicious Noah was. He felt guilty for that. He knew that Andrea was his friend. One fight couldn’t change anything. However, Thomson’s suspicions and his ambiguities about his friends were slowly making Noah paranoid. Maybe Ethan was a bad influence, after all. Apparently, Scott was right again. Did it mean that he could be right about other questions as well?

What if Ethan was right, not Scott? What if Andrea was responsible for that? Noah wouldn’t want to talk about it publicly, or tell Thomson about it. Should he speak to his friend privately? Firstly, they still couldn’t reach her. Secondly, if Noah brought the subject up and then it turned out that Andrea was innocent, their friendship was over. Why does everything need to be so difficult?

Enough. Andrea and Scott are innocent. There was nothing to be afraid of.

“Ethan, promise me that no matter who is responsible for that, you won’t touch them. I’ll agree to accept your offer only under this condition,” Noah tried to articulate his thoughts and fears as consistently as he possibly could. He hoped Thomson wouldn’t draw any extra conclusions, even though there was little hope for that.

“Deal,” Ethan said immediately, like it was something he expected Noah to say. “Let’s go see Duncan right now. He has a day off. And I know exactly where to find him.”

Chapter Text

5' 3"

Morgan was upset. Maybe, though, Noah had gotten used to this feeling so much that, even though he was in an extremely shitty mood, he could still have a small talk, make jokes, and just live his life. In other words, he behaved as if nothing had happened. However, this made-up easiness didn’t mean anything. Ethan could feel that Noah was clearly upset. And he was worried about him. It was interesting to find out what had thrown him off stride more? The fact that their suspicions about a mysterious and astucious enemy had come true? Or maybe that moment when Thomson called that girl a bitch? Ethan didn’t feel guilty for what he had said, thinking that the word he had used described her in the most accurate manner. What was the point of bowing and scraping before someone who chose a hundred bucks over their own dignity? Of course, it was pointless. While television, radio, and YouTube videos were screaming about freedom and democracy, the majority didn’t even understand what it truly meant. That’s why everything that was supposed to bring light and prosperity to society smelled funny now. People didn’t understand freedom as freedom of choice or freedom from the government's control anymore. They moved forward, convincing themselves and others that ‘freedom’ meant saying and doing whatever you wanted. Anything you could possibly think of, except, maybe, things that were seen as crimes, according to the criminal code, and nobody gave a damn about morality, pride, self-respect, or sense of occasion. Apparently, an individual wasn’t obliged to have these character traits since they weren’t mandatory for public law, which meant their presence was non-regulatory in society. ‘What about a sense of conscience?’ some might’ve asked Ethan. What would he answer then? A hundred bucks – and the sense of conscience would be out of sight. 

Interesting, are that girl’s friends also so money-minded? Should he offer them a couple of Gucci shoes in exchange for a video where they would be pulling her blonde extensions? Ethan was mad that the reason the girl had told them everything was fear that others, besides Morgan, would find out her little secret, not a feeling of remorse. Thomson wanted revenge! A pair of Gucci shoes, and Ethan’s dreams would come true. The question wasn’t about whether the girls would agree to beat her ass. It was more about how many of them would come to the university wearing new shoes the next day. 

Money seduces people. However, Morgan had been trying to give Ethan money back for the ice cream, like a stubborn donkey. It was cute, but it was driving him mad at the same time. 

You don’t let me take care of you, constantly trying to give me the stupid money back. If the only thing I can give you is that goddamn ice cream, then I’ll be buying every single kind of it for the rest of my life, not asking for anything back.

“What’s on your mind?” Ethan asked, stopping at the traffic light and noticing Morgan staring at the car door, completely frozen. 

“Processing what has happened,” Noah answered. 

“That person must be really hooked on you if he’s ready for such twists and turns to make you feel hurt,” Ethan noticed. “Have you thought about any reasons that could lead to these consequences?” 

“I haven’t,” Noah answered coldly, “I’ve never done anything bad to anyone,” he stated with confidence, “It must be a mistake.” 

“Too bad,” Ethan said, pressing the gas. 

“Too bad?” Noah frowned, “Too bad that I did nothing bad! I can’t believe my ears!” 

“Why?” Ethan smiled, “Then it wouldn’t be so frustrating,” he noticed. 

“For who?”

“For you. Plus, it would be way easier to find out about your bully.” 

“I don’t want to be a villain only because it’s convenient for someone,” Noah said angrily, frowning. 

“You can always use me as your role-model. See, I’m a villain because it’s comfortable for me,” Ethan smirked. 

“You’re not a villain... You’re just a little bit too aggressive sometimes.” 

“And I know it turns you on ,” Thomson said, pulling over near the building. 

A heavy silence hung over the car; Ethan could almost feel it on his skin. He said it on purpose to drag Morgan out of his thoughts full of guilt. He said it with no regret. 

Don’t smile, don’t smile, don’t smile.

Ethan saw, with the corner of his eye, Morgan slowly turning towards him, his face scarlet like a winter sunset, so he strangled a laugh. 

“W-w-what did you just say?” Noah said it in a husky voice.

“Huh? I’m saying I know that it turns you mad,” Ethan said poker-faced, “However, I am who I am. I can’t be perfect for everyone, but I can be perfect for myself. I won’t change.” 

“Eh…Uh…Okay,” Morgan exhaled, grabbing his jeans with his fingertips so hard that the skin underneath his nails turned white. 

“Okay? And not a single word about morality?” Ethan asked, surprised. “Is everything okay? You behave weird,” he said, trying not to laugh. 

“What? No! I’m just a bit…uh…confused. I misheard you saying…” 

Ethan drove to the parking lot, stopped the car, and, leaning on the steering wheel, looked at Noah examinably.

“What?”

“Uh… I mean… Well… I didn’t quite get it.” 

“You didn’t get what you heard?” Ethan clarified, staring at Noah. 

You don’t look so upset now, do you?

“I… My heart’s about to jump out,” Noah cried out in despair. 

“It won’t,” Ethan said, getting out of the car first. Morgan didn’t move. “We’re here,” Noah was still holding onto the fabric of his jeans, a bit above his knees. “You get out yourself, or else I’ll have to help you. Don’t make me take you across the parking lot in my arms.” 

Morgan had jumped out of the car before Ethan finished the last phrase. 

“I… I’m sorry. I was lost in my thoughts a little.” 

Ethan suddenly remembered Noah’s sketchbook and asked himself how this shy guy could draw things he had drawn. Or, which was more important, how did his face look when he was sketching all that? What did he do with the sketches after? Ethan hoped he was jerking off , not just sighing, while hugging his pillow. This fake innocence wouldn’t have suited Morgan. Thomson hoped he could boost Noah’s imagination with his earlier phrase so that he could continue drawing his masterpieces. Ethan would love to have a look at them later. 

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Noah thought that maybe he should consider going to the therapist because he was almost sure he was slowly coming undone due to his loneliness. The way he misheard that phrase! 

The dark-glassed building, near which Ethan parked the car, blinded them with sundogs. It was only two storeys high; however, judging from the height of the building, the ceiling was quite high. There was a name of the place above the second storey windows: ‘Blackstone Range.’ 

“A gun store? Do you underpay your bodyguard so much that he has to work extra at the store?” Noah asked, surprised. Ethan found his assumption amusing.

“No. We pay Duncan enough so he can be a regular customer at this place. You should probably know that, usually, there’s not only a store in such places,” he explained, going up the stairs to the entrance. 

“I can’t go inside,” Noah mumbled shily. 

“Why is that so?”

“I don’t have a possession license. They won’t let me in,” Noah stated. Ethan looked at Morgan, surprised, trying to guess whether he was really that naive or if he was faking it. It turned out that Noah was indeed so naive. 

“Morgan, are you okay? You don’t have to have a license to go inside this place. You need to show it only if you want to buy a gun. You don’t need any specific documents to go inside and look around,” Ethan opened the door for Noah and welcomed him inside. 

“O-o-o-oh… I see. I’ve just never been to such places before.” 

“Here’s your chance, then.” 

“I’m feeling uncomfortable.” 

“I think many people must feel uncomfortable whenever they come here for the first time.” 

“Did you also feel that way when you came here for the first time?”

“No.” 

Why Noah wasn’t even surprised? 

The ceiling did look high, and the room itself was quite big. Noah could compare this place to any other supermarket, though there was one giant difference: there were only a few customers. A couple of men were standing by the remote window, choosing bullets. Other individuals were examining items behind the glass. There was a cashier's desk in the farthest corner of the room. Hunting shotguns and rifles were hanging behind the back of the cashier. 

Ethan didn’t waste time looking at the guns and headed straight towards the cashier's desk. Noah followed him, looking around. He usually had no interest in firearms; however, now he was dying of curiosity.

“Hello, Ranbir,” Ethan greeted the cashier. A dark-skinned middle-aged man with a two-day’s bristle lifted his eyes from the military hardware magazine and smiled broadly. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Mr. Thomson. You’ve recently forgotten about us!” the man complained jokingly. Ethan just shrugged his shoulders as an answer. 

“Is Duncan here?” 

“Sure.” 

“The usual place?”

“Of course.” 

“I’ll go see him.” 

The Indian guy nodded and looked at Noah. He didn’t say anything, but Morgan felt awkward again. He thought that the man had definitely understood that Noah was a newbie who had never held a gun before. 

“It’s the first time I’m seeing you accompanied by a friend,” he addressed Ethan, smiling. “Do you want to introduce him to Ruger or Walther? 

Ethan turned to Noah. 

“Do you want to do some shooting?” 

“Can I… Well… Am I allowed to do it with no license?” Noah mumbled and stuttered. 

“Of course!” Ranbir answered instead of Ethan. “We organize tons of occasions, and not all of the participants have the license in their pocket! Bachelor and bachelorette parties! Conferences! Receptions! Even dates! Young man, if you have a lady you like, you should bring her here as soon as possible!” Apparently, Ranbir wasn’t just working as a cashier. He definitely had a huge commercial sense. “Imagine this: a closed room, silence, and teenage love! Two people! Alone. For the whole hour. You. Guns. Targets. Adrenaline’s pumping through your veins. Our instructors will be staying right outside in case you need help. Nobody will disturb you! You won’t believe how magical the atmosphere of a shooting range can be when you’re alone with your loved one! There’s nothing more intimate than hugging your significant other on the firing range while you’re helping them aim or make the right posture!” 

Noah broke out in a sweat a little.

“Ranbir,” Ethan interrupted him, “Give us a Glock and a Beretta. Twenty-six bullets for the Beretta and twenty-four for the Glock.”

Apparently, Noah never said if he wanted to do some shooting, even though he wanted to. However, Ethan probably made a decision for him while Ranbir had been advertising their perfect shooting date with a hypothetical girlfriend. 

“No problem,” the man nodded, satisfied with the job he had done. Ethan paid for everything, and then Ranbir, after switching with the other cashier, showed them the way into the building. There were several galleries back there. 

“Duncan’s here,” Ranbir knocked on the closed door, and then gave Noah and Ethan their ear defenders, safety goggles, and bullets. “Be nice,” he winked and went back to the cashier desk. 

“Is he going to leave us alone with the pistols?” Noah asked, shocked. 

“If we were both new, he wouldn’t. I’m a member of their shooting club, though,” Ethan explained, entering the shooting range. 

“Oh, now I understand which hobby you talked about the first time we met!” Noah realized. Or, to be clear, he thought he had realized. 

“A hobby?” Ethan didn’t quite get what Morgan was talking about at first. 

“When we were in the winter garden, remember? You didn’t answer what your hobbies were, but you said that you could introduce me to them one day.” 

“Oh…that hobby,” Ethan’s eyes darkened, and Noah understood in a split second that Thomson didn’t mean shooting ranges. “I’m not really into firearms. Duncan started taking me here because it had to be done, not because I was fond of it. When you’re constantly under the threat of being kidnapped, it can be quite handy to have some skills that could let you escape. However, I admit that it feels good to shoot sometimes. It eases your immune system down.”

...and Ethan never said what his true hobby was. 

There were around twenty well-lit firing lanes behind the thick door. Shooting booths were divided by glass walls. The furthest shooting lane was already taken by someone. There was no gun there, but an empty box of bullets was standing on the small desk near it. 

“Apparently, Duncan has gone to the restroom. Jesus fucking Christ!” Thomson muttered, coming to the next free shooting booth. 

“What’s the problem? It’s a natural thing,” Noah smiled, not understanding why Ethan was so upset with this situation. 

“His natural things last for forty minutes, at least. You can subvert a government with that much time,” Thomson grunted, easily loading the Glock. 

“I’m afraid to ask, but how do you know all that?” Noah asked, catching himself thinking that he was a bit jealous. Who was Duncan, and what kind of relationship did they have? Was he handsome? Was he mature and experienced? They had at least one mutual interest with Ethan… The overall picture didn’t look positive.

“Once my father decided to attend a law conference, and I wanted to go with him. He agreed to take me on one condition: Duncan would go with us. He was supposed to be my bodyguard but turned out to be my babysitter. My father said we had to share one hotel room. And every single morning, he would go to the restroom for at least forty minutes. On the third day, I was on the verge of choking him to death with a pillow as soon as he would fall asleep.” 

“Well, I’m glad it didn’t happen,” Noah smiled, putting the safety goggles on, “I know what ear defenders are usually for. Gunshots can be deafening sometimes. But goggles…” Noah tapped on the thick protective plastic. 

“So that your eyes won’t get hurt by bullet casings,” Ethan explained, “It would be nice to wear a baseball cap or something. If I knew about coming here in advance, I’d tell you about it.” 

Ethan took Noah’s Beretta and loaded it as easily as he had loaded the Glock before. 

“The same reason is why you would wear some closed shoes to the firing ranges. Or else you could leave this place with bruises or even burns from casings.” 

Ethan always wore clothes as if he was about to go to some shooting range. 

“I noticed you’re left-handed, right?” Noah nodded, feeling goosebumps on his back because of how casually Ethan said ‘I noticed.’ Besides, people didn’t seem to notice Noah being left-handed before. “Which eye are you going to aim with?”

“Is there a difference?” Noah sounded surprised.

“Not a big one. However, everybody has a dominant eye as well as a dominant leg. There’s also a dominant hand. In your case, it’s the left one. A dominant leg is the one you’ll choose to step on instinctively when falling. And there’s a dominant eye, too.”

“Which eye do you aim with?”

“The right one.” 

Noah tried listening to his feelings, closing one eye after another. 

“I think I’ll use the right one too.” 

Ethan nodded and started explaining to Noah how to hold a gun and where the safety lock was. So far, it didn’t seem too difficult. 

“Take it,” Ethan handed Beretta, “Feel it sliding into your palm.” 

… Noah felt he was about to have a tic. There was nothing special about the phrase. Ethan was talking about the gun. The gun—damn imagination! 

Noah took the pistol from Ethan’s hand and was surprised at its weight. Movie characters always shot guns so casually, like they were holding light feathers. In reality, it was quite heavy. 

“Hold the gun handle with your third, fourth, and fifth fingers. Don’t put your index finger on the trigger yet. Hold it parallel to the barrel. Yeah, like that, good,” while Ethan was explaining some basics, Noah thought that he could be a great instructor. “Put your right palm on the other side of the handle. It’ll be extra support while shooting. No, not like that. Put it higher. Your index finger needs to press against the lower part of the trigger guard, and the big finger needs to be pointing straight, touching the other big finger.”

Noah did everything Ethan said and was about to turn to Thomson for a demonstration, but he stopped him. 

“Never point the gun at a person unless you want to shoot. Even if the safety’s on.” 

“Oh, excuse me,” Noah got embarrassed, though Ethan continued his instructions, showing that Morgan could think about his feelings later. Under Thomson’s supervision, Noah spread his feet to the width of his shoulders, stretched his arms straight ahead, and bent his elbows a little. Thanks to movies, Noah knew how to aim, but Ethan still told him about the foresight and its location between the edges of the rare sight. 

“You have to always remember about the recoil. Are you holding it tight?” Ethan asked. Noah nodded. Then Thomson covered the barrel with his hand and pressed on it, “Can you feel the pressure?” 

“Yes.” 

“That’s close to what you’ll feel when you shoot, so hold the gun tight. I saw a guy once who had his wrist sprained because of a recoil. His firearm was bigger, though. However, it’s important to keep it in mind. Are you ready?” 

Noah nodded. Ethan pressed the button on the table in front of them. A hanging target flew closer to them and stopped a couple of feet away from Noah. 

“Put the safety off and aim. Pay attention to the lock so that it won’t hurt you.”

Noah did as he was told. He aimed. He pulled the trigger. It was too tight. 

“Harder. Don’t be shy.” 

Noah exhaled. He aimed again and shot. Ear defenders suppressed the noise partly, though Noah thought it was still loud. Recoil hit his hand and shoulder. It felt…cool. 

“Wow, almost bullseye,” Ethan complimented Morgan, which made Noah melt with delight. The only sad thing was that Ethan, contrary to the promises of Ranbir, never touched him. 

‘ Apparently, it’s not a date,’  Noah’s internal voice reminded him. 

Indeed, it wasn’t.

Too bad. 

Noah shot several times, and then Ethan switched him. He decided to stay in the same shooting lane as Morgan. He aimed at the same target. On the contrary from Noah, who thought he looked extremely tense and almost awkward while holding a gun, Ethan used his Glock like a person, whose daily routine included shooting after a morning shower. Noah felt that every move was sharp and calibrated after long practice, which made it look easy and natural. Ethan made several fast shots, one after another. Two bullets hit a nine, while three others – a ten. Noah applauded in childlike excitement. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming to join me,” a quiet male voice behind Noah’s back made him shiver. There was a tall, broad-shouldered middle-aged man whose appearance probably made people stay away from him. 

He is quite a brutal man. 

“It was a spontaneous decision,” Ethan answered, putting his Glock on the table near the target button that could adjust it for the shooter. Duncan smirked and looked at Noah. 

“Nice to meet you, young man,” he said, giving Morgan such a white-toothed smile that it made him feel uncomfortable. 

“H-hello! I’m Noah,” he rattled, flattening himself against the table unconsciously. 

“I know,” Duncan said, heading towards Morgan like a tsunami would head towards a tiny house by the seashore. However, the man didn’t demolish him; he just extended his hand for a handshake. “Duncan,” he introduced himself. Noah shook his hand silently, noticing his palm looked tiny compared to the palm of the bodyguard. “I didn’t think you would bring your friend here so fast,” the man told Ethan with such an intonation that only a fool wouldn’t understand that Duncan had known about Noah for a long time, even more than Noah would’ve wanted him to know. Noah doubted that Ethan had given him any kind of information. Thomson didn’t come off as a person who’d tell anything to anyone without a reason. Noah’s presence in Thomson’s life probably wasn’t an important fact. Which means there was something else. 

“We came here to ask you for a favor,” Ethan said in a tone like he was on the verge of starting a fight with Duncan. His aggression was showing itself after every single word. 

“I’m all ears!” Duncan answered, clearly not noticing Ethan’s change of mood. Thomson briefly described the situation and forwarded him a message with the nickname they had. 

“When can you find out the name of the person who created the chat?” Ethan seemed too stressed for some reason. Like if he was afraid that Duncan could say too much. 

“In about a week.” 

“Why so long?” 

“Because we’re not in a movie,” Duncan smirked, “What? Are you in a rush or something? I’m sure you'll find something to keep yourself busy. Or yourselves.” 

Ethan’s eyes darkened with rage. Noah still couldn’t understand what was wrong. They looked like they were discussing something else while having this dialogue. 

“I need to talk to you for a second,” Ethan said, “You can continue shooting. We’ll be right back,” he said to Noah, heading towards the exit. Duncan gave Noah another brilliant smile and followed Ethan. Noah grabbed a Beretha, aimed, and pulled the trigger. 

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“Duncan, are you fucking nuts?” Ethan hissed as soon as the door closed behind them.

“I don’t understand what you are talking about,” Duncan said, shaking his head and blinking innocently. 

“Stop demeaning me!”

“God, I would never!” the bodyguard made a helpless gesture, “You know you could’ve just texted me, right? You didn’t have to come here,” he said, smiling. “Just admit that you wanted to show off. Like, look at me, how cool and handsome I’m with a gun in my hand!” 

“Duncan, shut up!” 

“You even took the Glock for yourself, and you know you shoot like a damn sharpshooter with it! I didn’t know you had such an ego.” 

Ethan clenched his teeth angrily, but he didn’t say anything back. At first, he inhaled so hard that his lungs hurt, and then he exhaled slowly, trying to find peace in his mind that could still burn to ashes in the next couple of minutes. 

“Yes, I wanted to show off. So? I don’t see the problem.” 

Duncan rolled his eyes, showing how absurd this situation was, in his opinion. 

“The guy is head over heels for you already. I can see it clearly, even though I met him in person for the first time today. There’s no need to show off. You’re perfectly aware of that. I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but... Haven’t you thought about asking him out on a normal date? Well, you know, a movie with some popcorn, some stupid cafe with those marshmallow desserts, or an amusement park? Not a shooting range! Not a damn shooting range, Ethan!” 

“It’s not a date,” Thomson said, frowning, “And he liked shooting.” 

“Almost ninety-five percent of people like shooting! These are damn guns! Who wouldn’t want to imagine themselves as an action movie character, handling weapons like a God? Having a weapon is a way to boost your self-esteem and the feeling of safety. But we’re not talking about that here!”

“Then about what?” 

“About a normal date.” 

“Ranbir said they organize dates here,” Ethan mumbled, not wanting to admit he wasn’t right. 

“NOT THE FIRST DATE!” Duncan yelled at Ethan and slapped his head a little, “Ranbir will tell you anything to make more money.” 

“If you do this one more time, I’ll shoot you with the rest of the bullets!” Ethan hissed, touching the back of his head. 

“Really? First of all, Ethan, you don’t have the guts for that. Second of all, you love me too much,” Duncan sang. 

“Fuck you,” 

“Okay,” the bodyguard confirmed, “but what about you?” 

“Nothing.” 

“What’s the plan after the shooting?” 

“There’s no ‘after’.” 

“Take him to some nice place.” 

“IT’S NOT A DATE!” 

“Damn it!” Duncan cursed, “You’re so stubborn! Have some mercy for you balls.” 

“What about my balls?” 

“If balls turned radioactive with no sex, the Geiger counter would go crazy right now!” 

"Soon, I’ll be the one who goes crazy!” Ethan snapped back. 

“That’s also because you don’t f…–

“Shut up,” Thomson muttered, feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket. Another ad? Ethan would usually receive spam. Less frequently, his father could text him. Though recently Ethan’s message history brightened up with Noah’s texts. However, Thomson doubted Morgan would text him two minutes after he had left him in the shooting booth. 

“Do you think this won’t work out?” Thomson asked a question that he didn’t want to ask while Noah was around. 

“I don’t know. Speaking from experience, it won’t work. On the other hand, we’re not playing against the mafia or gun and drug dealers. There’s some shitty college student on the other end of the line. I could find him in my free time in a couple of days. A week – tops. But you just don’t want to give me the green light.” 

“I asked Morgan, and he refused such big help.” 

“Why?” 

“He’s afraid that it could be someone from his close circle.” 

“What’s the point? People usually accept facts. A stranger would never do something like that. Someone’s trying to take revenge on your boy. You should think about it.” 

“What do you mean?” Ethan frowned. 

“In order to piss someone off so much, you need to fuck up big time. What if your sweet boy isn’t so sweet? What if he doesn’t want my help because he has something to hide?” 

“I also have something to hide. I also did bad things,” Ethan said, after a couple of seconds of silence. 

“Things you’ve done are only your problems now. His actions probably hurt someone else.” 

“I wasn’t the only one who got hurt. My father. Audrey. Mother. I betrayed them all.” 

Faded pictures from the past appeared in his head again. A dark alley. Raindrops. And an ice-cold mix of mud and water under the knees. 

“By the way, have you asked that girl how she got the money?” Duncan suddenly switched the topic, getting away from Ethan’s triggers. 

“No. I wanted to, but I was too angry during the conversation. Anyway, I don’t think it could help. You need to be an idiot to transfer money online. She probably got cash.” 

“That’s the thing. No, I don’t think she saw the bully in person. Someone else must’ve left the money somewhere. However, the location of the stash could give us something.” 

Ehtan’s phone buzzed again. Who was that? 

“I’ll try to find something about it,” Ethan promised, even though he could hardly imagine the dialogue with the blonde girl for the second time. Thomson could probably snap again. 

“Next time you torture someone by your presence, try keeping your rage to yourself so that you can ask key questions.” 

Usually, Ethan was calm in serious situations. He snapped only because that little shit was responsible for Morgan’s condition. 

“Okay, I’ll go take a look around the store. Ranbir told me something about some new items that would make me thrilled,” Duncan said, putting his hands into his pockets. 

“You don’t have to go; we’ll finish and leave,” Ethan said to Duncan’s back, clearly understanding the real reason why he decided to go. 

“Then finish in privacy,” Duncan said, waggling his eyebrows to emphasize the hint. 

“Do you know what you need to do?” 

“Same old thing?” 

“Exactly! Go fuck yourself!” Ethan said, trembling with anger. It was impossible how Duncan could sometimes play on his nerves! Unbelievable! 

Ethan entered the shooting range silently and stayed by the door for some time, watching naive Morgan. Noah got used to the gun quickly. He took a long time to aim, but it was worth it. It seemed that Thomson played the wrong card when he thought he could charm Morgan by walking around with a gun in his hand. In reality, he was the one who was charmed. 

The phone vibrated for the third time. Ethan looked at the screen and smirked in surprise. It was Hughes. 

Rufus Hughes: “Hi.” 

Rufus Hughes: “I wanted to come clear about something, if you don’t mind.” 

Rufus Hughes: “Do you really trust Morgan?” 

Ethan Thomson: “Yes, I do.” 

Rufus Hughes: “Do you mean we’ve been blaming him for nothing for the past two years?” 

‘It is alive. And it can think!’

Ethan Thomson: “Yes, you have.” 

Rufus Hughes: “How can you be so sure?” 

Ethan suddenly remembered Duncan’s words about some nasty thing Noah had possibly done in the past. However, he met the charges with a flat denial again. 

Ethan Thomson: “I’ve had enough time with Morgan to make some decisions about him. He’s accused for no reason, and you could never prove it. 

Rufus Hughes: “...” 

Rufus Hughes: “Maybe you just have a crush on him?” 

Ethan tapped the phone’s screen with his finger thoughtfully. 

Ethan Thomson: “Yes, you are right; I do have a crush on him.” 

There were two reasons why Thomson decided to confess. Firstly, even if Rufus wanted to tell Noah about it, Morgan would never believe him. It was pointless telling it to anyone around the campus, since the rumors about Noah and Ethan were way hotter than innocent gossip about their possible feelings for each other. Secondly, Thomson couldn’t help but imagine Rufus’ face when he saw that message.

“Oh, I didn’t notice you were here!” Noah was about to wave at Ethan with a gun, but then he suddenly recollected himself and put the gun on the table. “Is everything okay?” 

“Everything’s fine,” Ethan nodded, looking at the screen. Rufus was silent. There was nothing underneath his name, where you could usually see ‘typing’ during some high-pitched arguments. Hughes was still processing. 

“Are you done?” 

“I’ve used all the bullets, but I don’t know how to load the gun.” 

Ethan reloaded the gun and, when Morgan continued shooting, got back to the dialogue with Rufus. 

Rufus Hughes: “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

Ethan couldn’t believe his eyes, so he blinked and read the message again. Nothing changed. Ethan was about to say something acidic. However, Hughes could be useful. 

Ethan Thomson: “Yes, you can,” Ethan confirmed and explained what he needed from Rufus. When the message was sent, Ethan put the phone in his pocket and turned his attention towards Morgan. His Beretta was empty. But there was still the loaded Glock. Noah didn’t miss the opportunity to shoot from it as well. Sure thing. 

While Noah was shooting the targets, looking cute and funny at the same time, Ethan continued thinking about Duncan’s words. No, not that Morgan’s face was in the trough. He was thinking about the other thing Duncan had told him. 

“I don’t know why, but it feels more difficult to aim with this one,” Noah mumbled. 

“Beretta suits you more. I knew it right away.” 

“But how?!” 

Ethan shrugged his shoulders, biting his lips nervously. Noah couldn’t see it because of the mask, so he couldn’t understand how difficult it was for Thomson to say the next sentence.

“You asked me about my true hobby. Do you want to see it?” Ethan tried to say it casually. 

“Yes, of course!” Noah brightened up. 

“I can show you, but I need to warn you that it’s quite…hm…peculiar.” 

“I love everything peculiar!” Noah assured him. 

Don’t make promises you can’t keep. 

“We need to go to my house then.” 

Noah wasn’t confused. Yet. 

“How cool! I can see your room!” 

Jesus, who cares about that? The most important thing for Ethan was the fact that there was a door that you could lock  from the inside .

“Okay, then finish the load and let’s go.” 

Noah had no idea how shocked he was about to be.

Chapter Text

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Noah persuaded himself that Ethan didn’t mean anything special, using the term ‘specific’. Thomson was probably just whipping up tension, trying to reinsure himself and probe Noah’s reaction. Recently, Thomson hardly got enough understanding from society. Actually, it was the opposite. He already got used to living against everything . Against the opinion of others, against social norms, and against lots of things that make society look like one. That’s why Noah wasn’t surprised to find out that Ethan was trying to hide his every hobby from everyone almost instinctively. Thomson’s will to open his little secret to Noah emphasized brightly his unique favorability towards Morgan. It made him happy. However, Thomson couldn’t trust Noah completely yet. That was why he decided to warn Morgan about his possible ambiguous reaction. It was a test, wasn’t it? If it was, then Noah was going to pass it with the best grade, no matter what it could take. 

The feeling of a gun lying in your hand and the recoil from every shot still made his palms burn. It was an unusual feeling. Noah always tried to stay away from the firing arms, thinking of it only from the perspective of direct danger for human life. The shooting range proved that sometimes humans could be not just victims in the formula, and that was when firing arms could create a different impression. Force and power. Nice tension in the wrists. And the feeling of self-satisfaction after making the bull’s eye. It was sort of therapy when everything else wasn’t so important anymore. The gun, the target, the result—it was all your attention needed to be concentrated on while shooting. 

After they had shot all the bullets, Ranbir let Noah take the target home. For memories. Now it was lying rolled up in the back seat of Ethan’s car. For Morgan, it was valuable not only because it kept the proof of his either inherent accuracy of aim or luck, but also because there were Ethan’s accurate bullet marks around Noah’s chaotic ones. It wasn’t a picture of them together, but it was already something. The only thing he had left to do was decide where to hang it, since there was no empty space on the walls of Morgan’s flat. Apparently, he had to take off one of his grandmother’s paintings. Would it be okay to do so?

After some moral bargaining, Noah finally let himself do so. The past shouldn’t hold on to the future. Besides, Noah wouldn’t lose his respect for his grandmother’s art if he took another painting down and put it in the corner of the room near the radiator. 

Morgan was aware that Ethan was from a wealthy family but still couldn’t handle a gasp of surprise when Thomson’s car pulled into the closed driveway. 

“What a house!” he exclaimed, leaning forward to see the mansion more closely. Considering that Morgan was thinking about where to find a place in his tiny flat to hang the piece of paper during their thirty-minute drive, Ethan would probably never have such a problem in his house. 

The car drove silently across the rubble driveway straight to the garage. Automatic doors opened in front of them, making Noah grasp for the second time. The garage turned out to have the same characteristics as Tardis, Doctor Who’s spaceship (Noah loved ‘Doctor Who’): it looked smaller from the outside than it was on the inside. The garage looked nothing like those Noah had been in before. In school, Noah and Nicolas used to hang out in his father’s garage. They would assemble models of planes, or, if there were more kids wanting to hang out (though, most of the time, they were happy just being alone together), they would play Dungeons and Dragons. It was a pity that life split them apart around the country. It was a pity that they grew up and could never play D&D anymore, at least because the game would probably seem boring right now. However, Noah wouldn’t mind throwing a dice right now and hearing from the host what he had to do next, since he didn’t know the answer himself. Nicolas’ stories were always rather savage. That’s why they were so interesting. The game could last twelve hours straight. Though if anyone wanted to interrupt them—for example, Nicolas’ mom, who would call them to have dinner, or Nicole, asking them to leave the garage so that she could work on her project—Nicolas would get extremely angry and tell everyone they could go to hell. Good old times. 

The garage of Nicolas and Nicole’s father looked more like a dumpster, where you could only clean an old table to play board games. The stuff around them, thanks to children’s imagination, would turn into a stash of treasures that would help them dive into their world of fantasies. Noah loved that place, that game, and that time. However, he still liked Ethan’s garage more. It was spacious. It was clean. And it was designed to fit more than just one car. 

Noah wasn’t a fan of cars. He knew popular brands and could define, just like the majority of people, whether the car was expensive or not. This skill was enough to understand that these cars cost at least a fortune. The real fortune, not some fictional one, like in the garage of Nicolas’ father. There were several cars, and all of them looked expensive. Really expensive. Unbelievably expensive! 

“What a beautiful one!” Noah couldn’t handle his admiration, getting out of Ethan’s car and looking at the car standing next to it. The flowing lines and specific pieces made it clear that it was definitely a sports car. The speed in the metallic shape. The real masterpiece of the car industry. Noah’s hands were itching to touch that black, matted automotive coating. 

“You can touch it if you want to,” Ethan said. 

“Oh, no, what if your father doesn’t like that someone’s touching his car here?” Noah refused. 

“This car is mine,” Thomson notified. Noah froze, processing the information. If he told anyone that he fell in love with an unbelievably rich guy, he would definitely be called a gold digger. Why couldn't Ethan be as poor as Noah? There wouldn’t be such a huge chasm between them. 

“Your…” Noah choked on air, trying to pronounce the same sentence in the interrogative form. “Then whose one’s this?” Morgan pointed at the car they came here in. 

“My father’s.” 

“And what about those two?” Noah looked inside the garage. 

“Also his.” 

“As far as I understand, he didn’t go to work by scooter, did he?” 

Ethan nodded. 

“Why do you use your dad’s car if you have such a beautiful one here?” Noah decided to look at the situation from a different perspective. Maybe it was just beautiful on the outside but actually broken. To be honest, Ethan wouldn’t immediately turn into a pathetic, desperate-for-money hobo after hearing something similar to that. Though, Morgan would definitely feel a little bit more relieved. 

“I think mine is a little…hm…showy,” unfortunately, Ethan didn’t give the answer Noah had desperately hoped for. 

“Sure, Mercedes-Benz is a whole other deal. It doesn’t look showy at all, since you can buy it with your pocket money,” Noah grumbled; however, he still put his hand on the sports car’s hood. The surface felt smooth and cold. When Noah took his hand back, surprisingly, there was a red mark left on it. Morgan looked at Ethan, panicking and waiting for him to scream at Noah that he had ruined everything and now had to pay for the car for the rest of his life, but Thomson just shrugged his shoulders carelessly. 

“Thermochromic ink,” he explained, “It reacts to differences in temperature. The car’s black when it’s chilly. When it’s hot outside, the car turns red.”

“Wow…Wow! Wow!!! And if I press my face against it, then will there be a mark left?” 

“You can try if you wa—

Ethan didn’t have time to finish the phrase; Noah had already pressed his face against the car’s hood and froze for a couple of seconds. The surface changed from black to red where there was Noah’s forehead, nose, cheeks, and chin. The mark looked eerie. You could take a picture of it and sell it to horror movies’ directors. Noah was truly happy for two solid seconds. However, he started to understand how he must have looked from the side. Well… If Noah had at least one chance in a million for Ethan to like him, he trod it into the ground at that moment. Or, more clearly, he smudged it across the car’s hood with his face. 

“I know I look like an idiot, but I’ve never seen it before in my entire life,” Morgan tried to justify himself, even though Ethan never asked him to. 

“That’s okay, I don’t mind. Have fun,” Thomson let him graciously, “Well, you have the face now. I think next should be your butt. Will you pay me an honor?” Ethan suggested it casually. Morgan turned red. 

“I think we’re good with no butts,” Noah grumbled, “Sometimes I can’t understand whether you’re joking or you’re mad,” he admitted. 

Instead of answering, Ethan stood in front of the bonnet and touched the matted surface with his fingertips. His eyes darkened for a second, as if he saw something inaccessible to Noah. 

“Neither,” Thomson said after a short pause, and he headed rapidly towards the exit from the garage. Noah promised himself that, when occasion offers, he would suggest Ethan create and carry around with him tablets, saying something like ‘joking’, ‘mad’, ‘feeling something you can’t get.’ Noah would be so happy to use ‘Devil’s Eye’ right now. Why, why would it stop working as soon as Morgan started creating some warm feelings towards a person? Was it some mental defense? Was it mocking him? Or maybe the universe thought that Noah had to go through the same mistakes as all the rest did because staying away from mistakes could be considered cheating? 

It was unbelievably quiet in the house. Noah wasn’t used to that silence, at least because his upstairs neighbor would sometimes torture his violin for the whole day while at the same time torturing half of the tenants. In the morning, stray cats would constantly be meowing, and birds would be singing. In the evening, for example, the streets hummed with the sounds of life. You can’t forget about Fluffy and Peanut, who would sometimes start a race around the flat, sharpen their claws, or crunch on their food. Besides, Fluffy loved to fight the toilet paper in the night, while Peanut snored or meowed in his sleep. All in all, Noah could only dream about silence. On the contrary, silence occupied Ethan’s house. The sounds of the city couldn’t reach this place. There were no neighbors nearby. There was even no sight of any pets. Noah tried to imagine how he would feel if he lived here. It must be so sad. It seemed that you were taken away from the rest of the world. And if you needed help, no one would help you. 

“It’s so quiet,” Noah couldn’t help but comment. 

“That’s because we’re alone here,” Ethan answered. 

Alone…

“Would you like some tea or coffee?” 

Noah nodded. While Ethan was easily operating the coffee machine, Morgan couldn’t stop looking around. The kitchen looked like it was copied from some home design magazine cover. It was pretty, but it was kind of…empty. It wasn’t cozy. There was no soul in this place. There were no dishes laying somewhere they shouldn’t belong. There were no homemade cookies in a deep bowl in the middle of the table. Even towels were hanging right in their designated places, pressed and folded so carefully that they almost seemed fake. 

Noah couldn’t resist the urge to touch one of the towels. It felt extremely soft. 

“What are you doing?” Ethan placed a cup in front of Noah. After taking his mask off, he sipped on the other cup himself. 

“Don’t think I’m crazy or something,” Noah asked, letting the towel go. “This kitchen looks so good that it feels fake. That’s why I…” 

“Feels uninviting, right?” Ethan asked with understanding. 

“Feels rather unusual,” Noah tried to sound more politely, “My house has always been a mess, so this cleanliness and strict order affect me negatively.” 

“Me, too,” Ethan agreed surprisingly for Noah, “It used to be different before. Audrey would always leave crumbles and dirty plates after eating. It always smelled nice because my mom used to always cook something. And if my father decided to be surprisingly in charge of breakfast, his second surprise was always a huge kitchen mess. Now, though, special people come here and do all the cleaning. The food is cooked by a private chef who comes here several times a week. And yes, this stupid towel always looks so perfect that it seems illegal to touch it, not to mention wiping your hands or drying the dishes with it.” 

“I’ve never thought that luxury could sound so sad,” Noah mumbled, finishing his cup of coffee in two sips. It was tasty. Way too tasty. 

“That’s how it usually sounds, though, to be honest.” 

Ethan put empty cups in the washing machine and asked Noah to follow him with the gesture. It was the moment. Morgan would soon find out about Ethan’s hobby—even though shooting seemed to suit Thomson more—and he couldn’t even imagine what else could possibly interest Ethan. Maybe he was collecting knives? Or expensive watches? It was too stereotypical. Just wealth and violence. What if Ethan was a fan of puzzles? What if dark, constantly saying acid things Ethan actually loved doing puzzles with pictures of cats? Though he didn’t seem to show any interest in Noah's cats. Maybe he was a dog person? Then with puppies. Ethan doing puzzles with pictures of puppies; it sounded weird, if not perversely. 

No, there should be something a bit more exotic to suit Ethan. Spiders. Scorpions. Or snakes. What if Thomson has snakes? Then Noah would run away immediately with the speed of light and break a world record for the fastest escape ever. 

Ethan’s room was on the second floor. Here, just as in the kitchen, living room, and staircase that Noah had already seen, the house continued to create an impression of an impervious, alienating and cold beauty with no sight of hearth and home. Ethan opened the door to the room and entered it first. Noah followed him with a slight shiver, looking around for some signs of snakes. There was no serpentarium. There was no sign of puzzles, knives, or watches, either. However, what stood out was an enormous bed. It was just a perfect piece of furniture that Noah felt embarrassed to look at. The bed didn’t seem just big. It was gigantic. And you could do anything you wanted on it. In any position. 

Noah looked aside and stared at something that raised even more emotions. There was a picture hanging against the bed. The one that Noah gave Ethan as a present. It looked different in an expensive frame. Way more presentably. 

“Oh, my God, you really hanged it,” Noah sounded surprised. 

“Of course. Did you think I took it as a tactful gesture?” Ethan grunted. 

“No, but…” Noah turned to look at the bed and then stared at the picture again. “Don’t you feel pressure by looking at it every day?” 

“I don’t, why?” 

“It seems doomy to me. Every time I looked at it, I felt anxious.” 

“That’s the deal,” Ethan affirmed instead of arguing, “No matter how long you look at it, it always causes emotions. That’s why it’s so good, and that’s what makes an artist different from a mediocre one. You need to have emotions in the painting. There should be depth, hidden from inattentive eyes but obvious to an art lover. These aren’t just paint and a canvas. There’s a whole history behind it.” 

“Yeah, but, in this case, emotions are apparently negative,” Noah noticed. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Ethan said, shaking his head and going deeper inside the room, “My hobby, by the way, can also cause ambiguous emotions; that’s why I don’t usually expatiate upon it.” 

Ethan wasn’t truly fair. Even if his hobby was considered the most basic one, he still wouldn’t say much about it. 

At first, Noah decided that Ethan could sew clothes and even started thinking over a speech about how valuable designers nowadays are. However, when he came closer and looked at two mannequins (male and female) standing in the darkest and farthest corner of the room, he understood that there was nothing about clothes. Mannequins weren’t covered with fabric, as Morgan had thought at first, but with tied ropes. There was also a table screwed onto the wall with numerous hangers. Each hanger had ropes of different widths, lengths, and colors. 

Probably Noah was staring at the table for too long, since Ethan began to explain: 

“Did you know that fine motor skills can calm down your mind?” he asked a rhetorical question. “My doctor told me about it after noticing that I need to fidget with something in my hands all the time. I could fidget, mash, tear and tie things for hours. My mom had an expensive scarf with tassels hanging from it. I could sit with it for hours, trying to tie and untie it. That’s the way my mind deals with pressure and stress.” 

“Those things don’t look like tassels,” Noah nodded at the mannequins, smiling, “It looks way more complex.” 

“I’m explaining how it started,” Ethan frowned, “And everything started with those tassels. Then, some time later, after researching some similar approaches, I once bumped into some pictures with similar knots online. Of course, I was curious. These knots came from binding prisoners of war. I can’t recall the name now; it’s Japanese. Anyway, the point is that, back in the day, this way of binding prisoners and criminals was used in Japan. Nowadays, these people would’ve been called client-friendly since every binding pattern would be created according to the person’s physique, status, clothing characteristics and skills. Different methods of binding were created for different social classes. And, of course, a person's gender would be taken into account as well. 

“What a thorough approach.” 

“Japanese are thorough about many things,” Ethan mentioned, “Firstly, I researched those bindings that Japanese police used before. And then I started going through the esthetic part of that topic.” 

“So, it means...” Noah was trying to find the right words, “...that your hobby is binding people?”

“My hobby is to create something…hm…beautiful out of the ropes and knots.” 

“I used to make friendship bracelets. Back in high school,” Noah said out of the blue, “However, binding people is, well…way cooler. If it’s done willingly. Willingly, right?” 

It seemed that Ethan smiled. 

“I’ve never made bindings on real people. Just John Doe and Jane Doe here,” he said, pointing at the mannequins. 

It sounded even more creepy. 

“Why do you call them the same way people call unknown patients at the hospital?” Morgan asked an off-topic question. 

“Because those names aren’t used just for that,” Ethan sighed, taking one of the ropes from the hanger and starting to play with it. “John Doe is an old legal term that was used in cases where the real complainant is unknown or chooses to remain incognito. The unknown respondent used to be called Rihard Roe. Only after that did this first name begin to be used to refer to patients with, for instance, amnesia or unknown bodies. If a female body is mentioned in a legal action, her name is Jane Doe, while family members are called James Doe and Judie Doe. And so on.”

“You’re like a treasure stash full of information,” Noa noticed, “Even the names of mannequins are connected with legal studies.” 

“It’s called hyperfixation,” Thomson chuckled. 

“And this…” Noah pointed at the ropes, “is also your hyperfixation?” 

“Sort of.” 

It would’ve been dumb not to use such an opportunity. How is it better to ask Ethan about it?  

“Can you really learn how to bind people if you’ve never done it before?” Noah tried to look extremely confused, “Mannequins hands and legs don’t bend like humans’.” 

“Yes, unfortunately, the majority of bondages I know only in theory, because I don’t have a human model.” 

You’ll have one.

“Hey, by the way, do you remember telling me that I have to think to myself how to make it up to you when I thought of you one-sidedly after assuming that leisure life with now ambitions and goals would suit you?” 

“Yes, and…?”

“I think I got something! You can use me to practice. Unlike mannequins, my hands bend just fine!”

Noah thought that this idea seemed rational until he said it out loud. Even the mask couldn’t hide how confused Ethan was. It seemed that he wasn’t ready for that kind of proposal. Morgan wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with what he had said. These are just ropes. This is just a bondage. Like making a friendship bracelet, but using a human for that. However, Thomson looked purely shocked. 

“You…” Ethan could barely speak, “...you have no clue what it is, don’t you?” 

“What do you mean?” Noah didn’t seem to understand. 

Ethan stared at Morgan for an inexcusably long time. 

“Okay,” he said finally, “I’ll practice with your hands. But don’t complain afterwards. You were the one who suggested it in the first place.” 

‘You were the one who suggested it,’  sounded kind of suspicious. 

5' 3"

Ethan wasn’t going to...

He didn’t plan to... 

He couldn’t even imagine that he would get such an opportunity. At least so soon. And especially with Morgan. The only thing he hoped for was Noah’s adequate reaction. ‘Everyone can have their hobbies!’ — that was what he hoped for, and it would be the best reaction for Thomson. Ethan didn’t think that his future partner had to share the same hobbies as him. Ethan didn’t even need some extra support. Understanding would’ve been more than enough. Well… He got the understanding he needed and pure interest as a bonus. 

“Sit down on the bed,” Ethan asked, still looking at his rope collection. All of them were ready to be used; they were already boiled, singed, and waxed. Ethan treated his ropes just to know how to do it. He could never dream that his thoroughness would be so handy. 

Ethan chose a classic, soft jute rope for Morgan. Ethan didn’t like artificial fabrics in general, since it was easy to deform them. He decided not to get them for his collection. There were two plaited ropes, though. However, while he was treating them, Thomson understood that they weren’t the best option. Morgan wasn’t ready for hard ropes, and Ethan doubted whether he would ever be. However, who said he wouldn’t like it? 

Morgan sat down shyly on the edge of Thomson’s bed, looking far more embarrassed by this action than by the fact that his hands would be tied up in a minute. What blessed innocence! 

“Would you mind taking your shirt off?” Ethan asked while taking his hoodie off. It was going to get hot in the room. 

“Is it necessary?” Noah’s voice sounded unsure. He was wearing one of his Japanese shirts with wide sleeves. It would be even cooler to make a bondage on top of it; however, there were two things that were stopping Ethan. First of all, he had no experience in this bondage, which meant it was important to get rid of anything that could distract Ehtan. Secondly, Noah’s shirt was probably synthetic, and Ethan assumed that synthetic fabric would do no good to sensitive skin while tied together with a rope. 

“Yes, it is,” Ethan affirmed, getting rid of his black fingerless leather gloves and putting on black latex ones. They gave a way better level of sensitivity and a good grip on objects or the ends of the rope, which was far more important. 

Thomson grabbed the rope and looked in the mirror at his reflection, which was hanging near the entrance of the room. A black mask. A black t-shirt. Black gloves. And a black rope. He had seen a porn movie that started the same way.

Noah took off his shirt and was sitting with his white t-shirt, which had a picture of a tiger with its mouth open. Ethan thought that this print didn’t suit Noah. Instead of a tiger, there should’ve been a rabbit, a hamster, or, at least, a cat in a funny cat. 

Ethan climbed on the bed and sat behind Noah with his legs crossed.

“You won’t even need a tutorial?” Morgan felt awkward and tried to hide it behind the small talk. As usual. 

“I’ve already memorized this bondage. It’s not difficult,” Ethan answered, looking more closely. “Flex your shoulders and stretch them several times.” 

“Why?” 

“So that your muscles and tendons won’t get injured. If you wanted to do a trick, you would want to stretch a bit first, right? The same thing works here,” Ethan explained. Morgan started stretching awkwardly. “And let’s get it straight: if you feel uncomfortable, you tell me immediately, okay?” 

“Will it hurt?” Morgan sounded anxious, bending his arms behind his back. 

“It won’t. If I do everything right, it shouldn’t hurt. The rope is soft enough, and I won’t tie you more than it should be done. In this case, I mean more mental discomfort, not physical one,” Ethan folded the rope in half, and then wrapped it around Noah’s shoulders, above the elbows. Then he put the free ends of the rope inside a loop, created after folding it before, and knotted the string. Noah’s hands were quite flexible. However, he still should’ve felt some pressure. 

“Ouch,” Morgan said. 

“Does it hurt?” Ethan sounded worried. 

“No. I do feel muscles, but it’s not bad.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” Noah affirmed, “Why is it even therapeutic, as you said?” 

It was weird that Morgan wasn’t into that subject, considering his love for Japanese art. Even if you want to assume that all he studied was art, he couldn’t just pass by the paintings illustrating shibari. Or could he? Was he aware of what they were doing with Ethan in the room at that moment? No matter what the answer would be, Ethan was way more worried that something could scare Noah. He had to do everything slowly and carefully. It was really difficult for Ethan to control himself. His hands were shaking. 

“Haven’t you heard about shibari?” Thomson asked, surprised. 

“It sounds familiar, but...” Noah was facing his back, but Thomson could’ve sworn Morgan was frowning, trying to find the thing that he was missing. 

“Firstly, I have to mention that it’s originally aesthetic-erotic art,” Ethan tried to boost Noah’s memory, wrapping Morgan’s hands in the direction of his shoulders. It turned out to be more difficult than he thought it would be. One of the important things in this process was to maintain the same pressure while wrapping the rope quickly around the hands because, at the moment, the knot was supposed to be pressing on Noah’s elbow nerves. Ethan didn’t want this unpleasant episode to last; however, this rush ended up being a failure. It also didn’t work out because of Noah, who would tense up as soon as he heard the word ‘erotic’. 

“I had no idea,” Morgan mumbled. 

Liar.

"If, after these comments, you suddenly understood that you don’t want to be a model for me, we can stop right now,” Ethan said reluctantly. He would happily continue, but not if his actions were considered torturing in Noah’s opinion. 

“N-no, that’s okay. There was nothing special about it!” 

There was a lot of  special about it.

“There are other important details besides erotic,” it would be unfair to hide something from Morgan. Ethan felt something close to joy when telling the truth to Morgan. 

The second try of bondage was way more successful. Thomson put the rope through the 'reverse clearance’ of a previously tied knot, strained the rope up to the limit and wrapped it around Morgan’s elbows, fixing the whole structure. 

“Like, for example?” 

“This practice is considered to be spiritually meditative. However, those who didn’t dive into the subject mistake shibari for exotic foreplay and nothing more. However, the action itself is self-sufficient and self inclusive. Apparently, sex is only a bonus here. This art is way deeper, and it’s not dedicated to satisfying your primitive needs. First and foremost, shibari lets you feel ‘here and now’. I’m concentrated on the knots and ties, and you’re concentrated on my actions. And there is nothing besides Here  and Now  that we should be worried about. It’s a good time to dive into self-awareness and analyze your fears, wishes and insults. 

Ethan chooses a place a bit underneath Noah’s elbow, intending to begin a bondage called ‘stairs’ on the Internet. After securing a rope with the index finger of his left hand, he began binding Noah’s hands, repeating previous actions. 

“Sounds interesting,” Morgan’s voice sounded husky, as if he was answering automatically, fully taken away by Thomson’s story. 

“Not everyone would share the same opinion with you. There should be no high drama in shibari. You can’t get any extreme emotions from it, and the rope, if everything was done right, isn’t supposed to hurt you. Many people think of this practice only from an esthetic point of view, while ignoring its sensuality and emotional potential,” after wrapping the rope around Noah’s hands, Ethan put the rope ends into the loop and continued lower to repeat it again. “First shibari’s effect is about feeling the rope on your body. You feel its texture, lines and slight pressure of knots. So that you kind of get to know your body all over again: you define its shape, concentrating on it like you’ve never done before. Are you concentrating right now?” Ethan asked, making sure that Morgan was listening. 

“Y-yes, I’m concentrating.” 

“Good. The second point is about limiting human’s ability to move with a bondage. Right now, I’m putting you in the stage of physical disability. The more knots I make, the more vulnerable you become. Right now, there’s sort of an unspoken agreement between us. Erotism with no erotism, if you wish. It’s not recommended to practice shibari with a person you don’t know well, since trust is of major importance here. 

Ethan reached Morgan’s wrists, wrapped the rope around the central vertical knot and secured the ends. Everything was done. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“It’s okay,” Morgan’s voice sounded even lower, which made Ethan have goosebumps.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes.”

“Can I take some pictures?” 

Noah nodded slightly. Ethan got up from the bed, reached the shelf with an old Polaroid camera on it, and took several pictures. After leaving the photos to develop, he sat down near Noah and looked into his scarlet face. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Weird.”

“Does it hurt?” 

“I guess…not. I don’t know. I can feel my muscles stretching.” 

“Well…” Ethan drummed his fingers on his knee, staring at Noah. Morgan noticed it but felt too shy to look in his direction. 

“And…Uh… How long do I need to sit like that?” he asked. 

“How long would you want to sit like that?” 

“Well…I…” 

“You owe me a wish, did you forget?” Ethan understood that Noah couldn’t say what he was thinking out loud. Even if he liked it just a little bit. Especially if he liked it. That’s why Thomson decided to help him, “If you sit like that for fifteen minutes, I’ll forget about the debt.”

“Why do you need it?” Morgan finally looked Ethan in the eye. 

“Curiosity. Everything I’ve told you here I looked up online. But in reality, I’ve never seen or felt anything like this before. I want to find out how true this information is.” 

And I also want to see how your reaction’s changing.

“S-sure, no problem, why not,” Noah mumbled. 

Good boy.

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

Erotic art? What did he mean by ‘erotic’? Did he mean erotic, like, actually erotic? ‘Erotic’ like in the word ‘erotica’? No way!

Noah was sweating and almost cried out in shame. Now he understood why his will to help made Ethan look confused a little . Morgan could’ve as well suggested Thomson practice French kissing. ‘Do you what? Do you like kissing, and do you train on mannequins? How can you possibly learn how to kiss without kissing for real? Feel free to experiment with me. On the contrary, I, unlike the mannequins, have a tongue. I’m all yours!’ 

Jesus Christ, what a nightmare!

No-no-no, Noah was just whipping up tension. These were just ropes. Just knots. Who cares how these actions could be interpreted by other people. For Noah, it was something like stretching his muscles. Physical activity. That’s all! His sexual organs didn’t participate in this activity, which meant that there was nothing intimate about it. However, there was a smell of citrus and lavender coming from the ropes. He could smell the silicone gloves. He could also smell a vague smell of Ethan’s perfume… All this weird mixture of smells was enveiling Noah, making his feelings even keener. Was there anything intimate about it? Of course, not. Morgan could feel every movement of Ethan’s fingers, even though he didn’t touch him, being focused only on the ropes. He felt the warmth of Ethan’s body. He could feel the strength that Ethan used while knotting the ropes. He felt his breath on the back of his neck, despite Ethan’s mask. Noah was writhing with these feelings and emotions so much like his nerves were fully exposed. What was the reason for that? Was it because of the tension from the ropes in his hands? Or from Ethan’s quiet voice? His discreet odor? Or the silence surrounding them? 

Who was Noah trying to fool?! It was incredibly intimate! DAMN INTIMATE! And Thomson, damn him, was talking about the details of his hobby like there was nothing special about it. Okay, Noah let asked  him to bind himself due to his own ignorance; however, Ethan knew what was about to go on from the beginning. Then what the hell?! Why couldn’t he say something like, ‘I’m sorry, but I bind only those people I have a crush on.’? Or was he really ready to make a bondage with anyone who’d ask? No, Ethan was way too discreet. So, it means that he couldn’t use just anybody . Could it mean that Thomson liked…

Noah’s head was killing him because of all these assumptions. 

Don’t you dare to mistake the wish for reality! 

It was easier said than done. What was Noah supposed to do if he had already mistaken everything in his head? He had already believed that Ethan liked him; he had already created their mutual future together, where they, of course, would’ve lived happily ever after. THOMSON WASN’T EVEN GAY! Probably. Most likely. Definitely! ‘Devil’s Eye’ should’ve hinted to Noah about Ethan’s orientation the day they met. Unfortunately, Morgan was concentrating on other things that day. 

Ethan’s voice sounded calm. Noah would’ve thought that it meant nothing to Thomson, and he wasn’t into it if the ropes hadn’t been shaking because of his hands. 

He likes me.

Probably Ethan’s hands were shaking due to the tension. Anyway, he had to pull the rope well enough, so Thomson had to use physical power for that. 

Or he likes me.

His muscles became sore almost immediately. Ethan was still in the process of a bondage, while Morgan’s shoulders and shoulder blades were already aching from tension. When Thomson had finally taken a picture of his artwork, a tingly feeling reached his elbows. However, it was the least important thing at that moment. Ethan’s voice was humming in Noah’s ears, talking about trust and helplessness, one person dominating the other. There was something spicy about it. However, Noah still couldn’t understand why he was supposed to sit still like that for fifteen minutes. Why did Thomson have to dominate over Noah he also couldn’t get. 

Ethan went towards the desk that was standing on the right side of the bed, put his camera and photos on it, and then grabbed the back of the chair and started dragging it across the room towards Noah. It was unlikely that this chair was so heavy that Ethan couldn’t lift it. No. He was doing it on purpose, making as much noise as he could, so that confused Noah would be concentrated only on him. Like somebody could have thought that Morgan’s attention wasn’t fully Ethan’s… He didn’t have to make noises to get what he wanted. He didn’t have to tie Noah up, either. Or even invite him into Ethan’s room. Morgan had already been hanging on to Thomson’s every word, whether he wanted it or not.

Ethan put the chair almost right against Noah’s knees, facing the back of the chair towards him. Then he sat down on the chair backwards, leaning his elbows against the back of the chair. The direct look of his dark-gray eyes made Morgan shiver a little. As soon as Noah tried to change the position of his body a little, the answer was a long, painful tightening. He should’ve warmed up his muscles better. It would also be nice to train his flexibility in the future. 

In the future? Like Noah was about to become Ethan’s full-time model. Ha-ha.

“Fifteen minutes,” Thomson muttered, doing something on his phone and then showing the screen where he had set up the timer. So, the time that Ethan used to walk around the room and move the furniture, he decided not to count. What a wise one. 

Ethan threw the phone on the bed, giving Morgan the opportunity to watch the timer together with him. 

“Okay,” Noah shrugged his shoulders, like he didn't care about the time at all and could sit like that even for twenty or thirty minutes. It wasn’t true, of course. His muscles were aching badly, his hands were getting even more numb, and the tension in the ropes was rising. Still, the bondage couldn’t be compared with Ethan’s eyes, staring directly at Noah. Noah was shy to look people directly in the eye, even the closest ones, like Andrea or Scott; he could only glance at them from time to time. He once read an article that said that if a person couldn’t look directly in the eye – it was a sign of falsehood or that the person was hiding something. Noah wasn’t hiding anything, or, at least, he believed he wasn’t. Also, he definitely wasn’t lying. He was just… shy . 

On the contrary, Ethan knew nothing about being shy; he wasn’t afraid to be misunderstood, and he didn’t care what others would think about him. Suddenly, Noah thought that Thomson was one of the most carefree people that he had ever met. He was free from society, but he was imprisoned and stigmatized by himself. 

“C-could you stop looking at me?” Noah couldn’t handle it any longer. Thomson’s eyes were giving way more pressure than ropes. 

“Does it bother you?” 

He should’ve answered ‘yes’, but Noah hated lying, even about the little things, so he told the truth. 

“It makes me feel embarrassed.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. It just makes me feel that way, that’s all.”

“That’s not all,” Thomson disagreed, ignoring Noah’s request. Apparently, he stopped blinking at all and probably decided to burn a hole through Morgan. 

“Many people feel embarrassed under direct look,” Noah tried to justify himself, knowing well that Ethan would definitely find some argument against him and use it. 

“No,” well, just as he thought, “the majority of people think of direct eye contact as a sign of danger. Others get pissed off. It’s really difficult to make a person embarrassed just by looking at them if there are no other factors.” 

What the hell were these factors? Was Ethan hinting at something?! 

Noah felt his heart jump. He felt nasty goosebumps on his skin. 

Does he know? Does he know about Noah’s feelings for him? What is he trying to do? Does he want a confession? Why? Is it mutual? Is he mocking him? Or does he mean something completely opposite? 

Noah would’ve grabbed his head and groaned out of despair, but the ropes on his hands reminded him that he wasn’t even capable of doing that at the moment. Surprisingly, Morgan started getting a feeling that he couldn’t move even a single part of his body, even though his movements were scarcely limited. However, the poisonous mix of ropes and disarming looks almost nailed Morgan to the bed, not letting him breathe normally. 

“So what are these factors?” Noah asked, surprised by how low his voice sounded. 

Ethan shrugged his shoulders carelessly. 

“There’re many of them,” he answered, and Noah could swear that Ethan was smiling. You could tell it by his eyes. 

Why the hell are you smiling?!

Noah was getting angrier and angrier. 

“For example, insecurities,” Ethan suddenly gave the most unexpected answer. 

“Are you trying to say that I’m insecure?” Noah asked grimly. When Noah wasn’t in the mood, he could even fight sometimes. Even for some dumb reasons. He could, but he usually never did it . 

“Why am I trying? I’m telling you that.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“Said the guy who couldn’t even take his t-shirt off in front of me,” Ethan smirked. 

‘That’s because I like you, idiot!’ Noah was about to cry out. Wait a second... Could it be one of the factors Ethan had mentioned? If so, then... It’s so complicated!

“I don’t like being naked in front of strangers ,” Noah replied insinuatingly. The word stranger  definitely didn’t satisfy Thomson’s ears. He frowned a little, but decided not to say anything about it. 

“Okay,” he nodded instead of arguing, “Then tell me, what do you like about yourself?” 

Noah fidgeted nervously on the bed. The mattress underneath was perfectly soft and didn’t even make a single noise. Unlike Morgan’s bed, which would constantly creak like an old wagon. 

“I won’t be bragging about myself,” he decided to parry a question. 

“Why bragging? I want to hear a normal answer to a normal question. You’d be surprised, but it’s okay to say nice things about yourself,” Ethan said. 

“Is it? Then show me an example. I’ll answer if you answer. What do you like about yourself?” Noah asked, sure that Ethan would also try to parry a question or change the subject. He hoped for the second option. 

“Everything,” Ethan didn’t even blink, “I like the natural color of my hair,” he grabbed his thick, light hair and played with it a little. “I like my eyes and my face in general. I know I’m quite handsome,” he grabbed a corner of his mask and shifted it from his nose to the chin, “Looking alright, don’t you think?” 

Noah swallowed nervously, regretting that he had asked this question. He should’ve already gotten used to the fact that any Morgan’s attempt to mock Ethan could be used against him later. 

Looking alright? It’s an understatement! 

“I like my body. But I like my hands the most,” Ethan reached his hands out, showing them to Noah. Usually, it was an impossible mission to guess Thomson’s figure under all of his oversized hoodies. Especially if you wanted to see his veiny hands and shoulders. Noah was truly happy that he had already had this opportunity more than once. They were indeed beautiful. “I also like my skin tone and the shape of my nails. I like my teeth, after all,” Ethan pulled the corner of his mouth a little and tapped his canine tooth with his finger, “My mom used to call me a wolf cub when I was a kid.” 

How sweet. 

“Anyway, I’m perfect,” Ethan said seriously. 

Noah almost choked on air after this bold claim. 

“Wow, you're so self-entitled,” he said almost admiringly. 

“No, you didn’t understand,” Ethan said, shaking his head, “I’m ideal for myself. I can’t say for sure that I’m perfect for others. I don’t need it.” 

“But it’s a lie,” Noah decided to oppose after thinking for a minute, “The day I met you... I saw... You’re not perfect for your— 

Ethan told Noah to shut up with a gesture. He was drumming his fingers on the back of the chair, thinking about something. His eyes looked dead for a second, like this body in front of Noah was just a vessel, while Ethan’s consciousness happily flew away to conquer parallel universes. 

“I’ve got my reasons,” he answered after being silent for a while, “I’ve made a mistake. Several mistakes. I do have enough negative emotions toward myself. But these emotions are caused by the things I’ve done, not by how I look. That’s why I like everything about myself. It’s my body, and it’s the only one I’ve got,” he explained. 

“So… What did you have to do to start hating yourself like that?” Noah asked carefully. Ethan tilted his head to the side, continuing to stare at Morgan, almost not blinking. 

“It’s a secret,” he said coldly, “It’s not what we’re talking about right now,” Thomson noticed. “I’ve answered your question. Now it’s your turn. What do you like about yourself?” 

Noah frowned, trying to come up with the answer. Now, of all times, he couldn’t come up with anything. Was there really nothing Noah liked about himself? It was not much of a discovery. 

“Maybe your eyes,” Ethan decided to give him a hint, “They’re beautiful.” 

“They’re basic,” Noah said before he even could think. 

“Your figure? Aristocratic elegance.” 

“I’m thin as a rail.” 

“Your fingers of a pianist? They’re unproportionally long. It looks beautiful.”

“These are just spider legs.” 

“Your long eyelashes.” 

“Who even cares about eyelashes?” 

“I do,” Ethan said, narrowing his eyes. 

“Don’t be silly,” Noah smirked, suddenly holding his breath. 

“So, instead of accepting compliments, you’re opposing them, aren’t you? Interesting. Could you explain, please, what’s the point of doing it?” 

Compliments? Noah thought Ethan was mocking him again. 

“I…I don’t want to disappoint anyone,” Morgan gave, as he thought, a palatable answer. 

“Who would be disappointed if you admitted that you were handsome?” Thomson smirked.

“You’re lying! I’m not a—

“Why do you think so?”

Because, God damn it, I look in the mirror once in a while! 

“Jesus, what the hell are we even doing?” Noah got angry. 

“We’re talking.” 

“About what?” 

“About you.” 

“I…” Morgan stuttered, “I don’t want to talk about myself.” 

“Would you rather talk about me?” 

Noah would actually prefer that, but he was too scared to admit it. Morgan was afraid to even think about the way he looked right now, considering how scarlet his cheeks were. His face was probably burning. 

“Let’s change the subject.” Noah suggested. 

“I don’t want to change the subject,” Ethan frowned, “I want to talk about you.” 

How stubborn Ethan was! Did he really enjoy making Noah feel more and more embarrassed? Did he do it on purpose? 

“Okay, do you want to know what I like about myself, huh?” Noah asked angrily. “My legs. They’re skinny and long. I’ve got some damn nice legs!” he stated, not trying to hide his irritation. 

“Hm…” Ethan finally stopped examining Noah’s face and moved his eyes to his knees. “Indeed. Your legs are fine, too.” 

“Are you playing with me or something?!” Morgan was pissed off. What the hell was going on here?! 

“Why? I’m just stating a fact,” Thomson answered with a poker face. “Interesting, do you think I can wrap my arm around your thigh?” Ethan asked, putting a thumb and a middle finger together, creating a circle. 

Of course, you can’t. Noah wasn’t that skinny. Probably.

“Go and give it a try if you’re so interested,” Noah said, looking at Thomson from under his eyebrows. Did Ethan think that he was the only person who could make provocative jokes? Get in the line!

Thomson frowned. 

“What? You’re wearing gloves. I’m wearing jeans. You don’t think bacteria could have a chance with so many barriers, do you?” 

Noah deliberately didn’t specify where this mythical bacteria could come from. 

Ethan was still frowning. 

“Are you chicken or something?” Noah took a final headshot. 

Ethan definitely hated being unable to do something. Even considering his problem. 

“Don’t you dare,” Thomson snorted almost childishly. Even his cold mind could be taken away by emotions. 

Thomson jumped from his chair and turned it around toward Noah. Then he sat down on it again and folded his arms on his chest, like he was emphasizing who was in charge in the room. Such a behavior made already angry Noah react like a bull would react to a red rag. 

“If you think you can evaluate the width of my thigh with the power of your mind, I’m telling you you won’t make it.” 

Ethan’s eyes glared, looking mad not only because somebody had accused him of his own weakness but also because he was planning to lead their little game. Noah was the one on  hostile turf with his hands tied behind his back. He was supposed to be the one to surrender. 

Screw you.

5' 3"

Ethan assured himself again that the innocent little lamb named Noah Morgan wasn’t innocent at all. He shouldn’t have let him be tied. At least, not now, without an introductory course about how he should behave and which emotions to feel because of his behavior. Hypothetically. Well, and, of course, they should’ve become closer first. Way closer than they were right now. 

Ethan was worried that he would go too far and scare Morgan. Then he, after getting carried away, indeed went too far, not even noticing how their conversation moved straight to the pointed, ambiguous phrases. However, Morgan wasn’t scared. He played the same card. He played on Ethan’s pride easily and almost put him in a tight spot. 

Do you want to play a game of who is more provocative, Morgan? Watch out not to feel sorry afterwards. 

Ethan spread out the fingers of his right hand and stared at his palm. The black elastic gloves fit the hand perfectly, guaranteeing good sensibility. And Morgan was right; besides gloves, there was also jeans fabric. Ethan thought this kind of touching was acceptable. However, after even thinking of touching someone voluntarily, Thomson felt a bit nauseous. When was the last time he touched a person outside of a fight? 

A long time ago. 

A long, long time ago. 

So, now this opportunity was causing both a feeling of anticipation and almost bodily fear at the same time. What if this action boosted Ethan’s memory and took out those memories that he had been trying to forget for all these years? 

On the other hand… Morgan was acting surprisingly audaciously, so he needed to be reminded where his position actually was. 

After stumbling a little over it, Ethan pressed his fingers against Morgan’s knee and felt itching after a touch that lasted more than a couple of seconds. There was also a long-forgotten feeling of warmth from another body. However, Ethan couldn’t say with no hesitation that the last point wasn’t his fantasy. 

Morgan was trying to act like he didn’t care. However, his face became scarlet, like the whole amount of blood moved in his cheeks. Observing his reactions was truly satisfying, even though Ethan was hoping for other things at the beginning. He couldn’t say what he had actually hoped for, but he thought Noah would’ve been shaking in front of Ethan like a little lamb would in front of a wolf. Of course, this could’ve been an interesting experience. However, the process Ethan was going through right now was far more intriguing. Why would he even think, in the first place, that Morgan was weaker than him? Even though their way of thinking, reactions, and principles did show how different they were, it meant nothing about their strength and showed nothing about who was stronger. 

Thomson ran his hand over Noah’s thigh and deliberately slowly grabbed his leg on the outside. A little pressure was enough to feel Morgan’s shiver slightly. Also, Noah, who had been watching Ethan’s hand before, was now looking at his other knee with a blank stare.

‘He’s trying to abstract himself from it,’ Ethan guessed, glancing at Noah’s zipper. ‘It’s making him horny.’ 

Thomson ran his other hand from Noah’s knee to the upper part of his inner thigh, stopping only a couple of inches away from his groin. 

“How are your hands?” Ethan asked calmly, like there was nothing weird going on in his room. 

“I…Ugh…” Noah didn’t expect a dialogue, “Oh…I can’t feel them.” 

“Move your fingers,” Ethan said, tightening his thumbs and placing the rest of his fingers underneath Noah’s leg, trying to lock them together as well. 

“I don’t know how to describe my feelings,” Morgan mumbled, looking almost in opposite directions from Ethan. “My fingers are numb.” 

“And ropes? How do they feel?” 

“They’re squeezing me.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Hm… Not really. I think. It’s hard to tell, everything’s numb. I think I’m just tired of them.” 

Ethan felt his fingertips touch each other under Noah’s leg, making the circle complete. 

“Aha! And you told me I couldn’t,” Ethan chuckled, even though he wasn’t sure he would be able to make it. 

Morgan, who was looking in any possible direction and not at Thomson, suddenly turned around and stared at his hands. 

“No way!” 

“Anyway, it’s true,” Ethan clenched his fingers a little so that Noah could feel them wrapping his leg. 

“Your hands… They’re bigger than they seemed before,” Noah suddenly burst. Ethan was on the verge of saying that not only his hands were bigger than they could seem in the beginning. 

“I have wide palms,” he explained, instead of saying another provocative thing. “Well, these legs were meant to be tied up,” he said, measuring them with his hands. How long would the rope need to be to make a bondage? Should he take a thicker rope? 

“Ah…Ugh… M-m-m…” Noah answered eloquently. He was about to mumble something else, but then he flinched and looked at the door, “Did you hear that?” 

Ethan did. He heard a quiet noise coming from downstairs. 

“No, I didn’t,” Ethan lied. 

“I think somebody’s in the house.” 

“Maybe,” Thomson shrugged his shoulders carelessly. 

“Un-untie me,” Noah suddenly demanded. Ethan, however, instead of rushing to set Noah free, didn’t even move. If his will had appeared because of the pain, then, of course, he would’ve rushed to set Morgan free from the ropes. Though it wasn’t the reason why Noah reacted the way he did, that’s why Thomson decided to take it easy. 

“One minute and thirty seconds left,” he said, looking at the timer. 

“Screw the timer, let me go!” Noah was panicking. There was no wonder. You could hear footsteps approaching behind the door. 

“Deal is a deal.” 

Not only didn't Ethan make Noah’s wish come true, but he also didn’t put his hands away from his thigh, continuing to squeeze it. 

“Ethan, for god’s sake!” Noah hissed, trying to fidget on the bed awkwardly. 

“Ethan, are you home? May I come in?” his father’s voice came from behind the door. 

“Yes, I’m home,” Thomson answered calmly, looking at Noah’s angry stare and not noticing his quiet cursing. “However…” Ethan didn’t have time to finish when the door opened. His father was dying to tell him about something. Probably there was some story from the court, where he definitely was a star today. Though not a single word flew out of his mouth. The man froze on the doorstep. Noah froze, too. Ethan was the only one who moved, taking his hands off Morgan’s leg and folding them on his chest. 

“I didn’t have time to answer your second question,” he noticed, frowning. 

“Oh, excuse me,” his father apologized rapidly, “I guess…hm…I’ll come in later.” 

“Good idea,” Ethan agreed. His father grabbed the door handle and rushed to close it behind his back. However, the smile that had beamed on his face the second before closing the door didn’t go by unnoticed for Thomson. 

“Damn, Ethan!” Noah cried out in righteous anger, “Do you even understand what you are doing?!” 

“What’s wrong?” Thomson sounded surprised, “Don’t worry, I’ll explain to my father that you were my model. If you’re scared that he might think something bad about you, trust me, there’ll be nothing to worry about.” 

“Jesus,” Noah sighed, “I thought you were a smart guy, but now you’re just being dumb!” 

“I guess, because I really don’t get—

“Just think,” Noah mumbled, trying to flex his arms. He wanted to get rid of the ropes. However, there were still twenty seconds left. “He comes into your room and sees a guy sitting on your bed with his hands tied behind his back. While you’re touching my thigh! Do you have any idea what he might think about?” 

“So what might he think about?” 

“He might think you’re gay!” Noah flushed, having no clue why Ethan couldn’t notice such an obvious thing. 

“Hm…” Thomson looked at the timer that was already going past fifteen minutes, “It’s okay. He already knows that I prefer guys.” 

5' 8"-5' 9"

What???

Chapter Text

5' 3"

“Are you going to say anything?” Michael Thomson asked in a husky voice. There was a picture of a woman on a gravestone. She had a beaming smile. Her eyes were sparkling with joy. Ethan remembered the day the picture, which had to be put on the gravestone, was taken. It was Audrey’s twelfth birthday. She had a whole birthday party with event staff dressed up as princesses and a classical magician with a bunny in his hat. His sister said that she was too grown-up  for this kind of activity; and then she spent the rest of the day taking pictures with princesses together with her grown-up  friends and getting on the magician's nerves with her questions. The man even taught her an easy trick with a coin. 

Ethan was throwing a tantrum since morning, upset that the birthday girl was getting all the attention. He was about to have a classical tantrum again; however, a birthday cake seemed to solve all the problems. In the evening, when all the event staff, Audrey’s friends, and the magician had left, Thomson’s family sat on the terrace and turned on some ‘Tom and Jerry’ cartoons while finishing sweet left-overs and helping Audrey unpack the rest of the presents. Ethan got stuck in a sparkling ribbon that was a part of one of the present’s decorations, so he ended up in tears after all. Audrey, who was making fun of him the whole day, decided to show some mercy, so she put him on his lap and promised to give him any present he would like. The choice turned to a fashion doll, Ken. Ethan thought that the doll was really beautiful. The mother was watching her kids, choosing not to interfere in their building relationship. She would take part in their fights only when one of them was about to cross the line of hitting the other. Their mother always knew how to cheer them up or put them to the blush with a single word. 

Their father took a picture that evening.. He captured the moment with their vintage P&S film camera. He captured the moment of her infinite happiness. 

When the dark day came and they had to choose a picture to put on a gravestone, all three of them chose the same photo immediately. There was everything in the picture. Her smile. Her eyes, watching her beloved children. And the father’s adoration that you could feel in the picture. 

“I miss her,” Ethan said, putting a bouquet of camomiles in front of the gravestone. Those were her favorite flowers. Mom would always put bouquets around the house throughout the year. The smell of these flowers was always associated with love and care in Thomson’s family. 

“Mee, too,” his father nodded. Ethan was extremely worried about him. So many years went by, and Thomson-Senior still couldn’t imagine himself together with another woman. Ethan thought it was wrong. What would happen if Ethan moved out one day? That thought kept coming back to Thomson. The same thought kept him in the house, even though his father had already hinted that Ethan should’ve started living on his own. Last night, after father’s unexpected ‘meeting’ with Morgan, he decided to bring the issue up again. 

“You’re an adult, so you need your personal space,” Michael noticed carefully. 

“There’s so much space in this house, so I’m more than happy with what I already have,” Ethan answered. 

“Well, so that the thing that happened half an hour ago wouldn’t happen again—

“You should’ve listened to my whole answer before opening the door into my room,” Thomson finished the sentence for him. His father probably understood that the son didn’t want to leave the house, not because he was scared of adult life or wasn’t ready to separate. He didn’t want to move out because of Michael. 

“What a handsome boy, by the way,” the father said matter-of-factly. 

“Don’t pretend that you didn’t know how he looked,” Ethan smirked, sure that Duncan had already come over and shown his father everything he had on Morgan. When Thomson noticed Duncan spying on him the other evening, he burst into the house so angry that he almost broke the kitchen door. Michael had to listen to his son’s yelling for forty minutes straight. 

“Seeing him in real life is the whole other thing!” the father assured, not even slightly embarrassed. “When did you start dating?” 

“We didn’t.” 

“Really?” his father sounded surprised. 

“Yes.” 

“But you tied him up. You…well, you touched him,” his father almost whispered. It seemed that he could still see that picture in front of him. His son had touched someone! Voluntarily! 

“So what?” 

Father only rolled his eyes dramatically, showing that he thought it was absurd. Ethan was insisting on his point. They never spoke about it after, but now Thomson suddenly felt the urge to tell more about Morgan. Not to his father, though, to his mom. 

“I think we should go,” Michael said after being silent for about twenty minutes. His voice sounded husky. The man looked as broken as he did back at the mother’s funeral. 

“I’ll stay,” Ethan said, “I’m going to wait for Audrey,” he explained, after noticing his father’s lost look. Michael nodded quietly and then looked up in the gray sky. 

“It might start raining,” he drew his son’s attention to the weather condition. 

“The weatherman promised this morning it won’t rain.” 

“Which doesn’t mean it can’t rain,” his dad noticed with a sad smile, “You should’ve brought an umbrella.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Ethan said, staring at his mother’s face in the picture.

“How long are you planning to wait for Audrey?” 

“As long as I have to.” 

Michael only sighed heavily. He knew his son too well to understand: it was impossible to change Ethan’s mind. 

“Don’t be long,” he asked and headed to the narrow pathway towards the exit from the cemetery. Ethan sat down on the emerald green grass, not worrying that his expensive black pants and suit might get dirty. He took a deep breath, held it for a second, and then exhaled slowly. It was always hard to start. 

“Hey, mom,” Ethan finally spoke out, almost not feeling his tongue after being silent for too long. “I haven’t talked to you in a while. I haven’t seen you in a while, either. Sorry, it’s been such a long time since my last visit.” Thomson was silent for some time. “To be honest, there was nothing to tell you about. Nothing good, for sure,” Ethan ran his hand in a glove across his light hair, “You see… I met someone. A guy. It’s actually a funny story…” Ethan swallowed a lump in his throat, “Do you remember telling me about how you and dad met? It was a small town with conservative people. I didn’t understand back then why the locals were so aggressive towards you, since I had no idea that Audrey was from a different man. Now I know. A young girl got knocked up by God knows who. I’m scared to think how much pressure you went through. Our father heard so much shit about you from them; however, instead of assuming who you were, he approached and decided to get to know you first. And he fell in love. And he married you. And you lived a happy life together. Unfortunately, it was too short,” Thomson inhaled soundly, trying to cope with internal pressure that was getting bigger after every word. “You’ll think it’s funny, but I think I got into a similar situation. There was a guy listening to a bunch of shit people were telling about him at the party, but I decided to make an acquaintance. And I fell in love. Nobody’s talked about marriage yet, as well as about moving in with each other,” Ethan laughed exhausted, fixing the flowers, “The difference is that dad has always been perfect. I, on the contrary, was never so perfect…well…you know, I told you before. That’s why I’m not sure I have a right…ugh…if I should…well…I can’t hide it forever, can I?” there was silence instead of the answer. “I don’t know what I should do. I don’t want to spill it all out at him before I tell him about my feelings. If he dumps me, then a guy I haven’t known for long enough will have an excess to my not so little secret. Of course, he won’t walk around and tell about it to every stranger, but still,” Ethan covered his face and groaned out of despair, “On the other hand, if I do tell him about my feelings and get a ‘yes’, and then I’ll tell him something like, ‘Since you already agreed to date me, I’m going to tell you about the shit you got yourself into’? That’s wrong… Maybe, I should leave it the way it is. Or maybe… Maybe it’ll be better if I just finish everything before I…”

A sudden gust of wind flew to the cemetery, so the leaves that already fell down flew up, and some maple leaves hit Ethan’s face. Thomson put them away and stared at the gravestone. 

“Okay, I got it. It was stupid. I’m not even sure that I’m ready to finish everything with him. Even if I had such a goal in my life. By the way, yesterday I told him I’m gay… Can you imagine that despite all the signs he was getting, he still doubted? I could tell it by his reaction to my words. You should’ve seen his face. It’s a pity I didn’t have a camera in my hands. He was looking at me as if I'd told him that I was Hitler’s reincarnation.” 

Ethan wasn’t dramatizing things. Morgan’s facial expression was indescribable. Even if he was trying to hide his shock, he didn’t do it well. It seemed that his thinking process turned in a different direction than it was before Ethan had told him about his orientation. Thomson could almost see how Noah was analyzing their previous meetings and talks. And, finally, he could understand that he wasn’t imagining things. 

Even though Morgan was clearly shocked after what he had heard, he didn’t say a word and was silent the whole time Ethan was slowly untying him. Thomson even felt a bit sorry that he had come out to him before he untied him, and not after, because Noah didn’t get all the vibe he should’ve while waiting to be set free. No. He was fully concentrated on the breaking news that no physical feeling could cover. The rest of their conversation was dry and rushed: 

“I should go,” Morgan said, not specifying why he suddenly needed to go somewhere. 

“Okay,” Ethan nodded, thinking that another provocation would be unnecessary here. Noah needed some time alone to process the information and decide how he considered their future relationship with Thomson. 

But first he needed to find out about Ethan’s secret. 

“Mom… I miss you so much,” Thomson said, reaching a gravestone with his hand and touching the face on it. “If you were alive, you’d definitely give me some advice on what to do… If you were alive, I wouldn’t have made so many mistakes,” Ethan admitted and shivered, feeling the cold raindrop fall on the top of his head. 

It was starting to rain. 

5' 8"-5' 9"

Noah couldn’t sleep the whole night. He just couldn’t calm down. He was thinking about Ethan’s words over and over again, and then he started to analyze everything that Thomson had said or done before. 

He said I've got beautiful eyes. And legs. 

Noah did try to fall asleep, but emotions were so overwhelming, he would jump out of bed and, while being watched by two pairs of cat-eyes, start wandering around the flat, having no place to rest. Every time Peanut would get up from his pet bed and start following his owner, sure that it was feeding time. Sure, Peanut, it was just about time to chew on some cat food at freaking three o’clock in the morning. 

Fluffy preferred laying on the table, where he wasn’t allowed to lay down, of course, and flicking its tail sometimes, showing that Noah interrupted his sleep. 

Who could possibly care about sleep when Morgan had finally understood that all this time Ethan had been flirting with him? BIG TIME!

He was flirting, right? Oh, he wasn’t? Or he was. 

Stop doubting, Morgan, Goddamn, he was flirting so obviously that only an idiot like you couldn’t understand it till now! 

As a result of these thoughts, in the morning Noah looked like he was one foot in the grave. Shadows of sleep deprivation were right there underneath his eyes. It was bringing out his paleness, also caused by the lack of sleep. On the way to the university, Noah was stuck between his wish to see Ethan and hide from him. Although he didn’t need to hide. Ethan wasn’t waiting for Noah with a bouquet of flowers at the front door. He wasn’t waiting for him at the classroom door, either. He didn’t save a seat for him at the cafeteria. At first Noah thought that something was wrong. Then he reminded himself that Ethan just told him about his orientation, not about his feelings towards Noah (even though it seemed almost the same). Later, when Morgan started to get more and more worried, he suddenly recalled that it was supposed to be his mother’s anniversary of death this Friday. Ethan told Noah about it himself. 

Of course! Of course, Ethan would skip today. He had other things to do, and it would be selfish to ask for attention from him on this day. After thinking about it, Noah calmed down and focused on his studies. However, he got anxious again at lunch. Dark clouds covered the sky; they seemed so close like they were about to swallow campus’ roofs up. The air was moist. The chilly wind was rising, which meant that the rain was about to fall on the city. 

Should he even bother Ethan with such stupid questions? 

But were these questions really so stupid? 

Noah was too shy to text Ethan earlier the other night. He was too busy processing ambiguous emotions. He would definitely go bright red with shame in the morning. But now Morgan opened the chat with Ethan with no hesitation and texted him. 

Noah Morgan: ‘Hello! Are you back home already?’ 

Noah stared at the screen, drumming his fingers on his knee anxiously. It was possible that Ethan was just busy at the moment. He shouldn’t have hoped for a quick answer. Anyway, Morgan was still waiting. 

Ethan Thomson: ‘Hello. No, I’m not.’

Noah Morgan: ‘But you’re somewhere inside, right?’ 

Ethan Thomson: ‘Why are you asking?’ 

Noah thought that everything was probably okay since Ethan was answering, and, besides, he needed some explanation from Morgan. 

Noah Morgan: ‘It’s raining outside.’

Ethan Thomson: ‘Valuable observation.’ 

Noah sighed. He wanted to ask Ethan another question, but Morgan felt it was too bold to ask it. Still… 

Noah Morgan: ‘Where are you now?’

Ethan Thomson: ‘At the cemetery.’

Noah Morgan: ‘In the rain?’

Ethan Thomson: ‘No. I found an old crypt nearby.’ 

Noah flinched. His imagination drew a creepy picture: Thomson sitting in an ancient crypt with no way to get out, and risen skeletons were coming to get him behind his back. In this scenario, Morgan should’ve broken into the crypt on a white horse, brandishing his sword. 

Noah Morgan: ‘Are you planning to sit there till it stops raining?’ 

Ethan Thomson: ‘I see nothing bad in this plan.’ 

Noah opened a weather forecast website, where you could monitor the rain map. 

Noah Morgan: ‘I see only disadvantages in this plan. You’re stuck in the old, cold crypt. The crypt where someone is buried. There also could be insects. Tons of insects. And do you want to know the worst?’

Ethan Thomson: ‘What's the worst?’ 

Noah Morgan: ‘It’s not going to stop raining till late night.’

This time there was no immediate answer from Thomson. Noah played with his phone for a couple of minutes before texting the new message. 

Noah Morgan: ‘Which cemetery are you at?’ 

Ethan Thomson: ‘Why do you care?’ 

It was kind of rude. But Noah didn’t get offended, not being sure but assuming why Ethan was behaving that way. Thomson didn’t like demonstrating his weaknesses, and right now he definitely regretted that he had opened up to Morgan a little before.

Noah Morgan: ‘I’m coming to pick you up.’ 

Ethan Thomson: ‘I’m not a child. You don’t need to babysit me.’ 

Noah Morgan: ‘Ethan, people usually call it ‘helping’. Have you ever heard about it? Do you know what it means? You should google it.’ 

Ethan Thomson: ‘Don’t mock me.’ 

Noah Morgan: ‘Me? Mocking you? Look at yourself!’ 

Ethan was silent again. Noah shoved another pastry bun he bought for lunch and started typing even more furiously than before. He didn’t plan to let Ethan go like that. 

Noah Morgan: ‘Okay, if you don’t want to tell me where you are, that’s fine. I can easily guess it myself. Forest Lawn, right?’ 

It was possible the trick wouldn’t work… 

Ethan Thomson: ‘Look at him, how smart.’ 

…but it did! 

Forest Lawn was one of the most expensive cemeteries not only in the USA but around the whole world. It wasn’t surprising at all. It was extremely beautiful and amazed people so much it was possible to spot wedding ceremonies there! Another thing that surprised Noah even more was the fact that there were guided tours there. He knew that a lot of celebrities were buried there, though Noah knew only about Michael Jackson and Walt Disney, but it was still weird that you could walk around it with a guide. 

Noah Morgan: ‘Text me the directions.’

Ethan Thomson: ‘I don’t want you to come.’ 

Noah Morgan: ‘Oh, really? How funny that I didn’t ask your opinion.’ 

Noah hoped that it would make Ethan do something, not hurt him. 

Ethan Thomson: ‘Okay…I’ll send you my location.’ 

It’s a win! 

6' 4"

Duncan Smith had been sitting for an hour hypnotizing Ethan’s Mercedes. Michael insisted that the bodyguard should’ve stayed and ensured that the only son would come home safe and sound. Duncan didn’t mind. Work is work. However, he couldn’t imagine what a person could do for more than an hour at the cemetery. When raindrops started falling on the windshield, he darkened even more. Duncan was perfectly aware of how Ethan tolerated rain. He was also perfectly aware of Thomson’s possible reaction to the fact that he had been followed by his bodyguard. Considering both of these situations, Duncan wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He would rather immediately go get Ethan, but he had enough after the last whipping from his boss, when the boy found out about the shadowing, he burst into the house and threw a tantrum. 

After all, Duncan decided not to improvise and call the boss first. 

“Is something wrong?” he heard a worried voice after the first dial tone. 

Duncan described the situation briefly. 

“Hm-m-m…” Smith couldn’t see that, of course, but Michael was probably rubbing his chin, trying to find the best solution. “Have you seen Audrey?” he asked suddenly. 

“I haven’t,” Duncan answered, apologizing to Michael in his head. He knew that Audrey preferred visiting her mother’s grave early in the morning, when it was quiet and there were no people around, and leaving the flowers behind the gravestone, not in front of it, so that her relatives wouldn’t know about her visit when they’d come. He doubted she decided to change her routine this year. 

“Too bad. Problems usually unite people,” Michael mumbled, not explaining what problems he meant and how they were supposed to unite his children.

“So what do I need to do? Should I go find Ethan?”

“Under no circumstances,” Thomson-Senior finally answered, after thinking for some time, “Let’s wait for another hour.” 

Duncan was about to groan out loud.

“What an hour could possibly change?” he asked carefully. Did Michael think it could stop raining? Then Smith had some bad news for him: the man had already checked the weather forecast and made sure that it wouldn’t stop raining any time soon.

“Maybe he’ll call his boy. Or the boy might call him himself. Let’s not take away his opportunity to take care of my son.” 

What an old sly fox! 

Duncan was about to laugh when he heard his ‘take care of my son’. If only Ethan heard that! 

“The boy’s name is Noah,” Duncan reminded him. 

“Sure! You know I’m bad with names.” 

Michael was bad with names only when they weren’t work-related. However, in court, all necessary names and details would easily appear like a charm. Duncan had never seen Michael doing his work, but, against his will, he had watched a couple of tapes together with Ethan.

“Don’t you think these expectations might be…dangerous?” Smith asked insinuatingly. 

“I think that my abundantly prod-hearted son wouldn’t be thankful for rescuing him. On the contrary, he would be extremely offended and would be mad with us for another month.” 

“Like when he was fifteen and stuck on the tree, so I had to take him down?” 

“Exactly.” 

“It was easy to tell even back then that he wasn’t building a sweet character.” 

“Who does he take after to be so stubborn?” Michael sighed. 

After you!!!

“You know better,” Duncan answered respectfully, “Okay. I’m waiting for Morgan for another hour. If he doesn’t come, I’ll go get the boy myself. And God help me the moment we meet.” 

5' 8"-5' 9" 

Noah never liked cemeteries. Others could see some sort of aesthetic and spiritual beauty. A sign of death could be inspiring and charming for some people. Noah couldn’t stand it, however. All Morgan could see were lapidary names of dead, buried people with only some bones left. There was no charm or romance at the cemeteries for him. His eyes were constantly catching dates of death. Some of the dead were buried when they were younger than Morgan. Wasn’t it eerie? Wasn’t death just frightening, after all? 

Noah, while checking the location Ethan had sent him, passed by the couple that was caring flowers, went by a group of rather loud tourists, and rushed to the other side of the cemetery. The further he went, the quieter it was around him. When the last sound of the voice disappeared, Noah felt uncomfortable. He would already run away from this place if he didn’t know that Ethan was somewhere around. 

The rain was getting harder. Cold autumn wind kept trying to steal Morgan’s umbrella. However, Noah dealt with it heroically, walking through the puddles in his soaking wet sneakers. 

There were a lot of crypts at Forest Lawn, but none of them were the same. Every crypt was unique. Some of them had exuberant, almost snobbish architecture; some were giving an eerie feeling; others almost seemed magical. 

‘There are two angels standing at the entrance,’ that was the way Ethan described the crypt where he found his shelter. Noah was dying to ask whether they were The crying angels , and was about to advise Thomson not to blink. He wasn’t sure Ethan would appreciate the reference to ‘Doctor Who’. Even if Thomson watched the series (which was still questionable), they would probably be law-themed. But Noah could fix that. Ethan just needed to agree. 

The angels weren’t crying; they were just a piece of main entrance decor. Their wings were spread several feet out, faces turned to the door, hands holding a sword. It looked unusual. The crypt looked really old, so Noah had goosebumps for the second time after he had thought about the fine Ethan might’ve gotten for violating this place. Wasn’t this place some kind of archaeological artifact?

Noah shifted from one foot to another hesitantly for a couple of seconds and then opened a squeaky door and stepped inside. It smelled really damp. The only way some light could come inside was through the little cross-shaped loopholes up in the ceiling. The walls were decorated with fretwork, which was impossible to look closely at because of how dark it was. Raindrops were falling from the ceiling. The roof was decorated with numerous patterns. 

Ethan was standing in the center of the crypt, leaning against the tall sarcophagus. He was staring at the dull sunbeam coming from one of the loopholes. The unknown craftsman made the gravestone in the shape of a lying woman holding a bouquet of lilies. In the dark, it gave the impression that the woman was alive and they were gossiping about something with Ethan. 

“Hello,” Noah said, shaking the water off his umbrella. 

“Hello,” Ethan answered, standing in the same position and not even looking at Noah. His voice sounded dry and dull. 

“Let’s go towards the car, or are you planning to spend some more time in this woman’s company?” Morgan smiled nervously, getting closer to the sarcophagus. Thomson pretended that everything was fine, but Ethan’s paleness and the way he was holding onto his own shoulders didn’t go unnoticed by Noah. 

“I didn’t ask you to come here,” Ethan said heavily. 

“You don’t need to ask me,” Noah shrugged his shoulders. 

Ethan continued frowning. 

“People don’t just help each other,” Thomson said, finally turning to Morgan and staring at him with a heavy look. 

“They do,” Noah assured Ethan.

“No, they don’t,” Thomson said, shaking his head, “Everybody has their own reasons. What’s yours? Why are you helping me?” 

Ethan wanted to fight. He wanted Noah to go away so that he wouldn't notice his bad condition. Probably, when he was sending him his location, Ethan had more control over the situation. He wanted to bring Noah to emotions and make him leave. One thing Thomson hadn’t planned was Noah’s answer that he gave faster than he managed to think about it: 

“Because I like you.” 

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

The words that Noah had just pronounced gave him chills. They bounced off the crypt's wet walls and flew back at their owner like an avalanche of regret. It definitely wasn’t what Morgan wanted to say. He didn’t have a chance to prepare himself for it. This rushed confession turned out to be so tough to bear that, for a moment, Noah felt like he was about to be pressed against the dirty floor. Morgan froze like a condemned prisoner, waiting for the executioner to chop his head off with an axe. Ethan was supposed to be the executioner who was now gimleting Noah with his dark-gray eyes. Thomson continued standing beside the eerie-beautiful sarcophagus while also wearing an eerie-beautiful, expensive black suit, white shirt, black tie and shiny men’s leather shoes. The black mask and the gloves were a perfect match for the outfit of a handsome, rich hermit who didn’t want to have any sort of connection with the open world. Especially now, after hearing Morgan’s words. 

‘You should just tell him that it was a joke,’ his inner voice suggested, ‘Or just correct yourself and say that you like him as a friend or a person. Be quick!’ 

Noah felt this idea was disgusting. Yes, a love confession at the cemetery inside the nasty, dark crypt wasn’t his dream, and there was nothing romantic as well. There was only dampness and frowziness. However, he was responsible for what he said; he couldn’t lie about it. Besides, Morgan had understood a lot about their relationship with Ethan the night before. 

“You’re aware of it, though, aren’t you?” Noah added, after being silent for a couple of minutes. Ethan, just as Morgan thought, didn’t look surprised. Astonished. Anxious, maybe. Or what else was a person supposed to feel after hearing a confession like that? Noah didn’t know for sure. He had never been in such a position before. Still, if Ethan hadn’t known about Morgan’s feelings, he should’ve at least gasped. Thomson didn’t gasp. He had known about it, and maybe he had known about it even before Noah understood his own feelings. 

Ethan was staring at Morgan with his gray eyes, not saying a word. He was looking at Noah so carefully, like he was trying to spot a lie or self-profit. Didn’t Thomson believe him? Or did he react like that to anything that wasn’t a part of his conception of the world? 

Noah thought that demanding an answer from Ethan was too cruel at that moment, considering how awful he looked. Neither Ehtan’s perfect black suit nor his white shirt or shiny shoes could hide how vulnerable he was. Thomson would’ve never admitted that he was going through an emotional crisis. The worst thing Noah could’ve done in this situation was to dump his pathetic, irrelevant and needless confession on Ethan’s head. Morgan, what have you done?!

“Now, since we’ve dealt with everything, how about we start walking towards the car?” Noah smiled forcefully, even though the storm inside him was getting bigger and bigger after each second. He was desperate to find out Ethan’s answer. Right here, right now! Immediately! Then, another thought hit Morgan’s head: if the affection was mutual, Ethan would immediately tell him about it. He would, wouldn’t he? And if it wasn’t… Anyway, there was a reason why Thomson was silent. Then it was a ‘no’, wasn’t it? Or a ‘yes’, but Ethan wasn’t in the mood to talk about it right now? 

Of course, it’s a ‘yes’! He was flirting with you, after all!

Or maybe it was a ‘no’. Maybe he just liked watching your stupid reaction.

Ethan didn’t make a single move after Noah’s words. Neither did Morgan. 

“You don’t understand what you’re talking about when you insist that you like me,” Ethan finally said, frowning. Morgan was even surprised that Thomson decided to get back to the subject and not just move on after Noah had given him such an opportunity, while suggesting to go towards the car. Though he even flinched after hearing Ethan’s utterance. 

“I understand everything,” Noah answered back. 

“You don’t know me,” Ethan grunted. 

“Yes, I don’t know much about you,” Noah decided not to argue, “So what?” 

“Hasn’t life taught you anything?” Ethan asked, tapping his right eyebrow, hitting on Noah’s scar that he got from his ex-boyfriend. It was a low blow. The other question was: who was offended more by this comment—Morgan, who was reminded about this unpleasant situation, or Thomson, who had voluntarily put himself on the same level with that bastard? 

“There’s nothing bad when you want to trust a person, even if you don’t know everything about them,” Noah frowned, “What do you suggest, hiring a damn detective every time I think I like someone, so that they can find all possible dirty details?” 

That’s not how it works, Thomson.

“It would be nice,” Ethan said, “You’re just awfully naive.” 

Thomson wanted to get into a fight with Noah. Not the worst strategy. It was the easiest way to get rid of a person: just make him disengage from you, regret they had feelings for you, do everything to make him disappointed about you so they’d never look in your direction again. However, this strategy didn’t work on Noah. Even though his feelings could sometimes appear unexpectedly, for no good reason, they were never shallow. Every time he was in love, Noah was getting over it painfully for a long time. 

“You’re acting like a crybaby,” Morgan snapped back. Ethan seemed puzzled after this answer, and, for a moment, you could see a childlike confusion. Noah understood that Ethan was trying to alienate him. Why? Was it because he wasn’t into Morgan? Or was it because Ethan didn’t know how to build a relationship with another person, even if he really wanted it? Well… Noah didn’t know, either. He wasn’t experienced enough. However, he didn’t have any skeletons in his closet that were pulling him back, not letting him step into the future. Ethan had those skeletons, apparently. So what? 

“Morgan, you’re getting pretty brazen,” Ethan stated. 

“So, that’s how you call it now, huh?” Noah smirked, “Let’s get out of here. I’m getting goosebumps from this place,” Morgan shivered demonstratively, showing that place wasn’t the best to sort out the relationship. 

“No,” Ethan continued being stubborn. 

“Don’t tell me I need to use force to take you out of here,” Noah sighed. 

“Touch me and I’ll punch you,” Ethan suddenly snapped. Again, it all just showed how terrible his emotional condition was.

“I’ll punch you back,” Noah answered calmly, not even thinking about touching Ethan. Okay, definitely now without his permission. Moreover, Morgan didn’t want to get into a physical fight at all. 

“Wow, so romantic,” Thomson said sarcastically. 

“You think?” Noah acted like he didn’t catch that sarcasm. “And I think it’s weird. Smells like an abusive relationship.” 

“There’s no relationship.” 

“Then there's only abuse?” Noah laughed nervously. Ethan just mumbled something Noah couldn’t get as an answer. 

The sound of the rain was getting louder outside the crypt. Water drops were falling more and more from the stone ceiling, and the air became moist and cold. The time went, and Ethan didn’t seem to look ready to get out of the crypt together with Morgan. He didn’t look ready for a normal dialogue. What was it better to do in this situation? 

“Okay, here’s a compromise,” Noah suggested, going deeper inside the crypt. It didn’t go unnoticed for Morgan that Ethan stepped back unconsciously, unwilling to cut the distance between them. “I’ll leave you my umbrella,” Morgan put the umbrella on the edge of the sarcophagus, “You can go out when you’re ready,” Noah said, putting a hood on his head that definitely wouldn’t hide him from the rain. Morgan decided not to wait for Ethan’s answer. The guy got out of the crypt and, trying not to care about the poor weather, started walking through the puddles towards the exit from the cemetery. He had to walk under the pouring rain and wind for at least twenty minutes. Also, he probably had to wait for some time for an Uber to arrive. Well, at least Noah had enough time to enjoy self-castigation and cry over his pathetic confession. 

5' 3" 

One thing was to know about someone’s feelings, though, hearing about them from the person was a whole new deal. Did Noah really just tell him about his feelings? It just doesn’t make sense! So, Thomson didn’t come up with a better idea than start showering this person with a bunch of sarcastic phrases, even though he actually had feelings for him. If Ethan hadn’t had his difficulties, he would’ve probably shaken Morgan’s shoulders and said, “How can you possibly like me? What the hell are you talking about?! Do you even have the slightest idea what you’re taking yourself into???” It was the worst time and the worst place to talk about feelings. Ethan was down in the dumps because of his mom and the rain. That’s why these new emotions, even though they were positive, sank in the negativity he had already experienced, so it all just turned into depressive facts with an ashy aftertaste. Ethan was mad at Noah. Ethan wanted to yell at him. He wanted to tell him everything he had been hiding inside so that Morgan would get terrified and leave, showing Thomson that he couldn’t be loved. Ethan was panicking. Quietly. There were no tears, sobbing, or breaking things. Ethan was going through this episode silently and internally. And it was way worse than if he had uncorked his emotions. 

Noah’s confession felt like a low blow. It felt like the universe had slapped him in the face, ruining his plans completely. 

Only when Morgan left had Ethan finally understood. His behavior was awful, and his accusations of Noah were just pointless. Besides the rest, his internal voice decided that it was the right time to compare Ethan with Noah’s ex-boyfriend. While Thomson was thinking about that bastard after hearing Morgan’s stories, he just couldn’t grasp how Noah, who was such a sweet, nice guy, could be bullied. However, that was what he was doing at the moment. It was disgusting. 

“Fuck!” Ethan said in the heat of the moment. He rushed to the other side of the sarcophagus, grabbed Morgan’s umbrella and looked at the crack between two slightly open doors of the crypt. It was pouring rain. Ethan shivered a little. The sound of the rain didn’t bother him the way it used to, since he always played it in his room or in the car. Though it didn’t feel cheerful, either. Raindrops were striking furiously on the ground, lawn, trees, gravestones and the crypt’s roof. The small water thread got inside the wet room and ran right towards Thomson. Ethan stepped aside unintentionally, not letting the water touch his leather shoes. Although he wouldn’t be able to escape all the water outside. Considering the rain, doubtfully the umbrella could help. Morgan didn’t even have that umbrella. 

Noah.

Ethan stepped in the water aggressively. Did he really want to hide in the crypts for his whole life, jumping away from the rain and letting the person he liked get soaking wet outside? 

It ends now!

Ethan got the umbrella and opened the rusty doors of the crypt. The gusting wind was bending trees and bushes to the ground. The rainfall was so big that it was impossible to see anything a couple of feet away. Thomson held on to the umbrella’s handle like it was a lifesaver. Ethan’s fingers felt numb because of it. Thomson swallowed anxiously. He forced himself to take a step, but his legs didn’t move. The urge to hide in the corner of the crypt was unbearable. He couldn’t control his body; his mouth was dry, and his heart was pounding. 

‘Why are you torturing yourself? Just get back inside the crypt and wait for the rain to stop. Nothing’s going to happen to Morgan. He won’t melt,’ his scared internal voice whispered. 

Get out, God damn you!

He felt a spasm in his knee. 

Morgan’s going to get all wet because of you! He’s alone there!

Ethan finally made a move. His leather shoe dove into the soft ground. The grass touched his naked calf, leaving a wet mark on it. Ethan shivered, but he, after exhaling soundly, made another foot move forward, too. The rain attacked the umbrella so hard that Ethan flinched after the sound he heard. Several drops hit his face with the wind, and Ethan, holding a scream, moved back towards the crypt unintentionally. However, he didn’t step under the roof. He was so irritated by his own cowardliness that Thomson slapped himself in the face. The mask couldn’t soften this punch. The cheek was burning. Not only the pain sobered Ethan up, it also made him angry. And anger was the best motivator for Thomson. 

“I should’ve dealt with it a long time ago,” Ethan mumbled, stepping forward bravely, “Coward,” he said. 

That hate speech was perfect fuel for the rage. Anger was spreading across Ethan’s body, making him move further through the rain towards the path. 

If he gets sick, it’ll be your fault. 

It was the last straw. Ethan rushed across the cemetery, trying to see something through the fog. The sense of resignation came after the rage. So, Ethan decided that this walk under the rain could be counted as progress. Even though Ethan was still holding on to the umbrella as much as he could. 

Thankfully, Morgan was found quite fast. Right after he had noticed his blurred silhouette, Ethan ran towards him, not caring much about shoes being completely wet. Noah wasn’t on the road, like Thomson assumed. He didn’t seem to care about the bad weather. He froze near one of the old gravestones. Ethan caught his breath first, so that Morgan wouldn’t understand that Thomson was technically running after him, and only after that he reached him and covered his head with the umbrella. Morgan sighed, like he had just come back from his dark thoughts and then he slowly turned towards Ethan. Water was running down from his soaking wet hood onto his cheeks and his nose. Wet hair was curling. His eyes were red because of the rain, or maybe he was…crying. 

“What are you doing?” Ethan asked dryly. Noah just shrugged his shoulders instead of answering, like he also had no idea what . Thomson shifted his gaze to the gravestone, where there was someone’s name and date of birth and death. Ethan knew nothing about that person, though he made two conclusions. Number one: the girl that was buried here died in the beginning of the previous century. Number two: she was the same age as them. 

“Do you know the girl who was buried here?” Ethan suggested carefully, even though he couldn’t spot any connections between her and Morgan’s names. Noah shook his head. 

“I don’t know her.” 

“Then why did you stop here?” 

Noah just shrugged his shoulders again. 

“That’s not the answer,” Thomson noticed, trying his best to behave casually. He wasn’t bothered by the sound of the rain. He wasn’t bothered by the water in his shoes. He wasn’t bothered by the piping wind, making raindrops fall on his feet. He wasn’t bothered by his own helplessness. No, he wasn’t bothered; he wasn’t bothered; he wasn’t bothered at all. 

“She died so young,” Noah answered after a while. “I’ve never been to the cemeteries before. I’ve only seen them in the movies or in the pictures. I’ve never thought that they’re so…eerie.” 

“Well, actually, this cemetery was designed as a park because its founder thought that such places shouldn’t cause only grief and sorrow,” Ethan mentioned. 

“What else are they supposed to cause?” Morgan couldn’t understand. “There are thousands of dead people here. And yet some people even get married here! It’s terrifying!” Morgan exclaimed, truly shocked. 

“I think you overthink the concept of death,” Ethan said, not knowing how much more he could handle. 

“Isn’t death frightening, after all?” Noah was struck, “Whenever I think that my grandma…or Fluffy…or my mom—

“Or you,” Ethan said coldly, “I don’t want to be rude, but we’re all going to die one day,” he said. “Instead of wasting your time thinking about the death of your loved ones, you should better spend this time enjoying their company while you can. There’s no time like the present; don’t screw it. Don’t make the same mistakes I made.”

Noah sniffed his nose. This time he was wise enough not to start arguing with Ethan. 

“Now, let’s go to the car, or else this stupid wind will make us part of this cemetery.” 

5' 8"-5' 9"

Ethan said that he needed a moment to catch his breath, and now he had been sitting still for ten minutes, holding on to the steering wheel, his forehead pressed against it. Noah didn’t bother him, waiting until Ethan recollects himself. Time was going by. The rain was falling on the city. There was almost zero visibility. Of course, it was way more comfortable in the car than in the crypt. But still…

“Ethan, how can I help you?” Noah asked in a quiet voice. 

“You can’t.” 

“That’s not true. There should be something I can—

“No.” 

Noah frowned. He didn’t believe there was no solution to the problem. Probably, Ethan refused to accept help from Morgan. 

“Maybe I could drive?” it was a weak try, but what if… 

Ethan turned around to look at Morgan. 

“Do you have a driver's license?” 

“Well… yeah,” Noah answered, looking confused. He could drive, but he wasn’t skilled enough. Any other person would probably never risk driving in such weather if they had the same driving skills as Noah, since it could be dangerous. However, Noah was way more worried about Ethan’s condition at the moment. 

“Then we should go for a drive some day,” Thomson said, sat straight again and started the car.

‘We should go for a drive some day?’ What did it mean? Did Ethan accept Noah’s feelings, or did he decide to ignore them? 

Noah didn’t risk asking this question while Thomson was driving. They were both silent during the whole ride. Ethan was looking at the road, while Noah was looking through the window, watching raindrops running down the glass. Only when Ethan parked near Morgan’s house, Noah, who had been deep down in his thoughts the whole time, suddenly said:
“You should know that my feelings won’t—

Noah was about to say, ‘won’t be a problem for our friendship,’ but Ethan suddenly interrupted him with a rude: 

“Get out of the car.” 

“Huh? I mean I…” Noah mumbled in confusion, not ready for this reaction. 

“I said—get out of the car,” Ethan uttered, and Noah, swallowing the offense, stepped outside the car under the rain that was finally getting smaller. “Take it,” Thomson handed Morgan the umbrella, but he just closed the door and bent towards the passenger window. 

“Keep it,” Noah said, hoping that Ethan, in case he didn’t hear him, could at least read his lips. 

Ethan shrugged his shoulders and threw the wet umbrella to the passenger seat, where Noah sat just a second ago. Then he pressed his feet on the gas and left before Morgan could say goodbye to him. 

Ethan said that they should go for a ride together with Noah driving, but now he behaved as if he decided not to spend any other second of his time on Morgan. Ethan didn’t say farewell, but it seemed like he still drew a line to finish their relationship. 

Noah entered the hall on the first floor. His heart was pounding, and, just as it was at the cemetery after he had told about his feelings, he felt a lump in his throat. Noah couldn’t even go up the stairs, not to mention going to his flat. He just leaned against the wall and slid down slowly on the floor, feeling the water mixed with his teardrops running down his cheeks. 

Noah took the phone out of his pocket and tried to wipe the water off it. Nothing worked, so he just started tapping the screen aggressively to make the touchscreen work. He succeeded only half of the time. Noah opened TalkPanik and clicked the chat with Andrea, which he last opened the day when they had a talk with Scott. 

Noah Morgan: “Hi. I wanna talk to you. Call me when you see it.” 

Noah Morgan: “Hi, Andrea. Are you okay? You just disappeared. I’m starting to worry about you.” 

Noah Morgan: “Hello. Please text me when you can. We need to talk.” 

All three messages were marked as ‘not delivered’, which meant that the phone was either turned off or the app was deleted or blocked on purpose. If that was the case, Noah could wait forever for the answer. Still, he was trying to find a way to release his feelings. 

“Hello again,” Noah typed with his shaking fingers, “I told Ethan about my feelings today. At the cemetery, if you’re interested. And, I think, I got turned down.”

Chapter Text

5' 3"

Ethan parked his car in the garage and had been sitting inside the car for about an hour already. He was holding onto the steering wheel and trying to hold the emotions that were trying to burst out. The emotions of that day were just way too overwhelming for Thomson; his body kept shaking because of them. His head was about to explode because of the thoughts swirling inside. He could feel something negative and then, almost immediately, something positive. This row of feelings and emotions was turning into something unbearable and unclear. He wanted to cry. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. And he wanted to remain silent, all at the same time. The present was replacing the past. The past was crossing out the future. And the future was putting pressure on the present. These way too stressful experiences were striking a chord in his soul. Every heartbeat sounded like a hammer, blacking out the sounds that were surrounding him. Besides, it was getting more and more difficult to breathe through the wet mask.

After he calmed down a bit, Ethan let himself step outside the car and enter the house; his legs stiffened. Michael Thomson was sitting in the kitchen, sipping his cardamom tea while looking through some work-related papers. He continued reading them even when he heard Ethan come home and asked matter-of-factly:

“You’re late. Is everything okay?”

"Why bother asking me if Duncan has already told you everything, huh?" Thomson said irritably. Thomson said irritatedly. The presence of his bodyguard didn’t go unnoticed for him. If Ethan was in a better mood, he wouldn’t mind coming up to Duncan, as he did back near Morgan’s house, and asking him a thing or two.

“Smith isn’t into psychology to judge a person's condition just by glancing at them. You’re a tough one, Ethan. It’s impossible to tell what you are thinking about at the moment. If I, your father, have trouble guessing your mood, what do you expect from the others?”

Fair thought.

Ethan wanted to go upstairs to his room and lock himself there for at least a week, but he made an effort and stayed. Instead of running away, the guy chose to sit down on a chair against his father and drum with his index finger nervously on the table, trying to drag his parent’s attention. He didn’t want to share his thoughts, neither with Michael nor with anyone else, but Ethan knew well that he just couldn’t remain silent any longer.

“Morgan told me about his feelings,” Thomson said under breath. He was staring at the counter top. He didn’t want to witness the smile that was probably already beaming on his father’s face.

“Which had already been something obvious for you,” Michael nodded, still not paying full attention to his son. You could hear that damn smile in his voice.

“It had been, yes. However, I didn’t think he would tell me. Not so fast, at least!” Ethan exclaimed, letting loose of his emotions for a second.

“Not all people want to hide their feelings, like you do. As far as I understood, your Morgan’s quiet, open-hearted,” Michael answered smoothly.

“He’s not mine,” Ethan reacted harshly.

“Yet,” Michael added.

“I’m disgusted by this term.”

“You are? Why?”

“He’s not a toy to be my property,” Ethan uttered.

“Oh my goodness, this teenage idealism again,” Michael rolled his eyes, “Why does your generation take things at face value and think of words so much?” he asked a rhetorical question, finally taking his eyes off the documents and setting his tablet aside. “If I had had to become a toy to be a property of your mother, I would have given away everything to be hers entirely. And, FYI, I’ve never felt myself as someone’s toy, since it has nothing to do with the toys. I loved and I was loved. That’s the kind of property I’m talking about. Do you feel the difference?”

“Whatever,” Ethan waved off, understanding that his father was the only person in the whole universe who was right in eighty percent of their arguments with Thomson.

“Whatever? Hm, how wise,” Michael mumbled, but decided not to continue with the argument.

Ethan was silent. Michael was drinking his tea, waiting patiently for his son to get ready to continue their conversation.

“What should I do?” Ethan asked after several minutes.

“Do you like him?”

“It’s a stupid question; you know well that I—

“It doesn’t matter whether I know something or not. I want to hear the answer from you right here, right now.”

“I like him.”

Michael nodded, satisfied.

“And he likes you. Do you really have some questions about what to do?”

“I can’t—

“You can.”

“It’ll be tough for him.”

“So what?”

“I don’t want to screw his life.”

“Then don’t.”

“Dad!” Ethan exclaimed irritatedly.

“Son?” Michael asked calmly.

“Everything’s just so easy, according to you!”

“Because everything’s easy, and it’s wonderful.”

Ethan frowned, feeling that his dad was winning it again.

“I can’t date him while I’m still hiding something from him,” Thomson said, trying to be particular in his speech.

“Then don’t hide anything.”

In the heat of the moment, Ethan threw his father’s tea cup on the floor. The sound of breaking glass filled the room. The light-gray floor had a tea stain with broken pieces of the cup covering it. Michael turned no hair. His son’s tantrums weren’t surprising for him.

“So, you mean that I need to... How am I going to do it?”

“With your mouth, generally,” Michael said, sighing, “you just open your mouth and tell him.”

“But—

“There’s no ‘but’, Ethan. You go and tell him everything, for God’s sake!” Michael lost his temper. After all, Ethan took his short temper after his father. Due to his age, Thomson-senior had it under control, though, his son was the only person who could pierce his armor of equanimity.

“It’s my dirty laundry! What if someone found—

“Do you trust Morgan?”

“I do.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Shouldn’t you be the one to tell me that I should never ever tell anyone about my past? This information could destroy my career before it even begins!”

“Screw the career!” Thomson-senior, who had just taken the tablet back in his hands, smashed it on the table, and its screen even cracked. “What kind of parent do I need to be to prefer a good career for my son instead of a good relationship?! I know you’re ambitious. However, there’s no way a career can replace a real person by your side! I’m telling you all that from my personal experience!”

Michael suddenly became silent and sighed deeply, trying to regain his composure, while Ethan was thinking over something.

“So, should I tell him?”

“You need to be the one to make the decision, Ethan.”

“I’m just trying to provide for all contingencies. If he tells anyone—

“I’m asking you once again. Do you trust him?”

“I’m trying.”

“Is he capable of spreading rumors?”

“No, he’s not. But if we break up, then...”

“Is he one of those people who try blackmailing their exes?”

“No,” Ethan answered, after thinking over it for a bit. Michael made a helpless gesture with his face, saying, ‘Then what’s your problem?’

“But wh...what do I tell him?”

“The truth, Ethan. The truth, and nothing but the truth.”

5' 8"-5' 9"

Andrea never got his message, so Noah, desperate, risked calling Scott. Thanks a lot, the friend chose not to say anything like ‘I told you so’ and kept it for a better occasion. Instead, he had spent the whole evening making theories about why Ethan behaved that way.

“What if he wanted to park his car? Then he asked you to get out of the car with a thought of coming back later?” one of Scott’s versions made Noah laugh nervously.

“No way,” Morgan said and then ran to the peephole to make sure Ethan wasn’t standing in the corridor like an orphan. He checked the front door, too. And even the cafe nearby. No, the parking theory wasn't the reason for his behavior.

Noah and Scott had talked till the late evening. Morgan settled his nerves a bit. Okay, he was dumped. So what? It wasn’t the end of the world. Ethan wasn’t the first guy Noah had had a crush on. He definitely wasn’t the first one to turn Morgan down. Noah would certainly fall in love multiple times after Thomson. He would also probably be turned down multiple times... There was nothing special about Ethan, to be honest! Just an average guy!

No, it was a lie.

Thomson was anything but an average guy.

If Noah’s previous crushes could be grouped by some characteristics, then Ethan just didn’t fit neither by his appearance nor by the character.

Noah preferred taller guys. Of course, he was trying to protect Ethan’s height while talking to his mom, telling her that it didn’t matter at all. To be honest, it really didn’t matter to him. However, before meeting Thomson Morgan was into guys at least a head taller than him. Noah preferred brunettes. All his previous love interests had dark hair. Thomson remained blonde. Noah preferred calm, tactful and soft guys. At least, from the first sight, they all seemed to have those character traits. As well as Matthew. Ethan was completely the opposite. Even when his voice sounded calm and no muscle in his face moved, only a complete idiot with no sense of empathy whatsoever couldn’t spot pressure and aggression in the words he was saying. Noah didn’t have the heart to call Ethan tactful. Remembering what he had said to the woman from the retirement home was more than enough. These disrespectfulness and straight boldness gave Noah chills. And, of course, it was impossible to call Ethan soft. Well, if concrete or asphalt was soft, then yes. That was exactly how soft he was.

Taking into account Noah’s usual preferences, it was easy for Morgan to tell that this crush was different from the others. Besides, it would probably be more difficult to get over it, too.

Noah fell asleep after the sunrise had illuminated the horizon. Several hours later, he woke up feeling like he had been fighting on the squared ring and not actually just crying his eyes out for the whole night. Moisturizing eye drops didn’t help his red eyes, and double espresso didn’t fix his alarming condition. While Noah was getting ready to visit his grandmother, Peanut, that was lying down in the middle of the flat, was grooming his back demonstratively since it had been completely soaked in tears the night before.

Meeting his grandmother distracted Noah from his thoughts about Ethan for some time by focusing again on his relative’s bad physical and mental conditions. The retirement home workers were trying to assure him that everything was fine, however, Noah was still worried. In the evening, his mother called him. That time she somehow managed to upset Noah not once, as she usually did while talking about grandma, but twice, because she started to ask questions about Ethan. Noah didn’t want to tell her that he got turned down, so he changed the subject as fast as possible by telling her that he was worn out and was about to go to bed.

On Sunday, unexpectedly, Morgan was full of fight. The fact that Ethan didn’t like him didn’t mean that they had to stop talking! Anyway, it was Noah’s problem, not Ethan’s. They could be friends, right? Noaho doubted Ethan would reject him since they did quite well in quality chat. Thomson wouldn’t be afraid of Noah trying to hit on him, would he? Ethan did understand that Morgan wasn’t capable of it, didn’t he? What if Ethan thought that Noah was dangerous? No way. Nonsense. Noah just needed to explain to Ethan that he was okay and he was ready to be happy with what he had left without crossing the line. He needed to tell it as soon as possible. He should call or text him.

Noah was staring at his phone till late at night, not having the guts to put his plan into action. After all, he fell asleep thinking how necessary it was to talk things out with Ethan. That was why, probably, Morgan was having nightmares with similar scenarios. Ethan was a part of every one of them. No matter how the setting and scenes changed, every nightmare ended with Thomson saying no.

On Monday, the last thing Noah wanted was leaving the house. Especially going to the university. Moreover, when there was even the slightest chance to bump into Ethan. Morgan even considered skipping. However, he was too responsible, so he got up and made himself go to classes. For nothing, as it turned out. Noah heard professors but didn’t listen to them. No matter how hard he tried to focus, it didn’t work. Instead of taking notes, his hand was sketching Ethan in different scenes. Here was frowning Ethan. Then there was smiling Ethan. Ethan was examining his shampoo ingredients (Noah had no idea why this picture appeared in his head. It just appeared). Ethan was standing with a shopping basket. Ethan was smoking. Ethan was holding bondage ropes. Ethan was wearing a black suit for a funeral. Ethan, Ethan, Ethan.

Noah felt extremely worn out and hoped that lunch break would fix his problems. He was wrong.

Morgan made an arrangement to meet Scott in the cafeteria. His friend was indeed waiting for Noah at the time and place fixed. However, he wasn’t alone. On the right side from him was Nicole. She was studying something, like there was no tension in the air coming from the other person sitting at the table. It was Rufus. He was sitting right against Scott with his arms crossed, examining him attentively. Ethan was sitting on the right-hand side from Hughes. Noah felt completely puzzled. Thomson had told him that they didn’t get on well with Hughes. Had they just become friends because they both hated Noah now? Ethan didn’t hate Morgan for his feelings for him, did he? Right?

Noah came closer to this weird group, making a huge effort not to run away. He had this urge to get away from Hughes, Scott, Nicole, and, of course, Ethan. Especially away from Ethan. However, he couldn’t let himself leave his friend alone with these people.

“H-hey. What’s going on here?” Noah asked, stuttering. He looked at the table, deciding where he should sit. There were only two places available: either near Rufus or against Ethan. He didn’t want to sit with Hughes. On the contrary, he did want to sit closer to Ethan, even though Noah was afraid that Thomson had no good intentions. He thought that way because he was accompanied by a person who had been bullying Noah for several years.

“Hello,” Ethan answered casually, looking at Noah. Despite Morgan’s being so cautious, Ethan didn’t try to look away or somehow else express his disgust towards Noah. “Here, take a seat,” he said, looking at the seat in front of him, then he moved there a plate with several buns and a coffee cup from the expensive vending machine.

Noah didn’t move. What was going on? Was it a joke? Was he mocking him? Was there a hidden camera somewhere? What were they trying to do?

“What’s he  doing here?” Noah looked at Rufus, hesitating to accept Thomson’s invitation to sit down. He should’ve asked about Ethan as well, but Noah was too excited to see him.

“He’s trying to help,” Ethan answered calmly.

“Who?”

“You.”

“And how’s it going so far? Any luck?” Morgan couldn’t resist being sarcastic for a moment.

“That’s what we’re about to find out.”

“I doubt it,” Noah frowned. Hughes was helping him? It seemed delusional.

“Sit down,” Ethan pointed at the seat in front of him again. Morgan gave him a sepulchral look. “Please,” Thomson changed his tone from demanding to soft one, understanding the mistake he had just made. It worked immediately. Noah sighed and sat down in front of Ethan. He promised himself that he wouldn’t touch neither pastry nor coffee, however, as soon as the smell of fresh pastry reached his nose, his stomach started rumbling.

“Eat,” Ethan looked at food after noticing that Morgan was hesitant again.

“I’m not hungry,” Noah lied, even though he understood how pathetic it sounded with stomach rumbling in the background.

“As you wish,” Ethan decided not to insist and twisted his coffee cup. “Then let’s get back to the question of why Rufus is sitting here with us,” he said. “He volunteered to help us find a person who’s responsible for rumors about you.”

“You’re lying,” Scott reacted immediately, “Hughes has been torturing Noah for two solid years. Why would he do that right now?”

“Because he’s trying to impress my sister by helping me,” Ethan answered without skipping a beat. The expression of insult appeared on Rufus’ face.

“That’s not true!” the complaint sounded fake.

“That’s true,” Ethan said, “How about you grow your childlike complaints after we do the business? Personally, I don’t care about your motives. I care about the result,” Thomson stated. “Rufus offered help, and I didn’t find any reasons to turn it down. He was supposed to talk with that bitch who took pictures of Morgan holding that stupid cup.”

“Don’t call her like that...” Noah mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Ethan raised his eyebrows, showing his confusion.

“She has a name. Don’t call her a bitch,” Noah said.

“Oh really? A name? Does that stupid animal have a name? Interesting. What’s her name then?”

“I didn’t ask, but...”

“But what?”

Noah frowned. So did Ethan. They were staring at each other, both understanding that the problem wasn’t about Thomson’s naming. The reason for their conflict was different.

“Nothing,” Morgan grunted, taking a bite of a bun before he realized that he had already opened the package. Well. If the first bite was taken, then he should finish it. It was better than wasting food.

“May I continue then?” Ethan asked, looking at Noah from underneath his eyebrows.

“Do whatever you want,” Noah grunted.

“What if I want the same thing as you do?” Ethan noticed. Noah choked on the bun. Scott said something through his teeth. Nicole continued studying, looking completely clueless about what was about to happen.

“Jesus Christ...” Rufus rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Is there a problem?” Ethan turned towards him suddenly.

“No,” he mumbled.

“Wonderful,” Thomson said acidly, “So what did you find out from the animal I’m not allowed to call a bitch? How did the girl get paid for being a social whore?”

Noah kept his ears open unconsciously.

“They left the money in the library of this department. They told her what book to look for. The money was inside.”

“What on Earth are these spying games?” Scott asked disbelievingly. He didn’t seem to buy a single word coming from Rufus’ mouth.

“I love spies, they’re badass!” Nicole exclaimed suddenly, taking her eyes off the book, definitely clueless what they had been talking about. “Noah, do you remember playing a spying game when we were little?”

Morgan did remember. Well, they thought they were spying agents after watching way too many James Bond movies; they were jumping on the couch, acting like there was a chase, or sometimes they would spy on their neighbor’s dog. None of them hid anything in the books.

Ethan was drumming with his fingers on the table, processing the information.

“What does this information give us?” Noah asked.

“Now we know that your hater goes to this department,” Ethan answered.

“Didn’t we already know that, considering where the picture was taken? Let me rewind for you, it happened in this cafeteria,” Morgan grunted.

“Actually, we can’t know it for sure,” Nicole stepped in; she sounded curious, “Many students from other faculties attend this cafeteria quite often. For example, just as Ethan does and...uh...what’s your name? Rufus?” she pointed at the guys. “And look, nobody cared about it, since it’s always so crowded here. However, the library is the whole other deal!” the girl stated. “Only those who study in this building know about the library on the third floor, since it’s not the all-faculty library. Mainly, there are books that are meant for only those students who study here in this building. Besides, due to the online library system, not many people actually attend real libraries. Usually, students lend some old books here that haven’t been digitized yet. I’m telling you that as a fact, since I also stop by this library once in a while,” Nicole lifted the book cover that she had been reading the whole time, showing that it was a quiet used library book. “What I’m trying to say is that there are usually the same faces coming to that place, so if that person was a 'stranger’, he would definitely draw attention from the regulars. I can go there on my next break and ask librarians about it. However, there’s little hope. I don’t think that he, she, or they  are so dumb to expose themselves so stupidly.”

“It won’t hurt to try,” Ethan said, “Take my number and share the results later.”

“Sure!” Nicole said and started looking for her phone.

Noah was already finishing his third bun, looking at how Ethan and his friend were exchanging numbers. He felt jealous for a second, then he almost immediately felt ashamed and decided to leave.

“Could you also text me as well to tell how things are going, okay?” Noah asked Nicole, ignoring Ethan. “Now, excuse me, but I have to go to my next class.”

Noah was lying. There were at least twenty minutes left till his next seminar, and he was supposed to go there together with Scott, who didn’t leave his chair. Thankfully, his friend was smart enough to say:

“Can you tell the professor I’ll be late? Tell him I ate something bad.”

“It’ll be your fourth time eating something bad this month!” Noah laughed.

“I got a weak stomach, you know,” Scott said, biting a half off of his cheeseburger.

Even the friend’s jokes couldn’t help with Noah’s urge to hide away from dark gray eyes that were burning a hole in Morgan that whole time. After a hurried goodbye, Noah grabbed the rest of the pastry in his backpack and went away. The guy went upstairs to the fourth floor, made himself comfortable on a wide windowsill that students had been using as benches despite the fact it was prohibited, and opened his sketchbook. Noah really wanted to sketch Ethan’s eyes at the moment when he said, ‘What if I want the same thing as you do?’ However, Morgan didn’t even have time to start the basics when he got distracted.

“I thought you were rushing to your next class,” Ethan said in a calm voice. Noah flinched and dropped his sketchbook on the floor. The old album fell into pieces like a pile of unglued pieces of paper. Thankfully, the corridor, which was full of different drawings of Ethan, was empty. Noah almost cried out in despair and started collecting the papers quickly, having naive hopes that Thomson wouldn’t pay attention to the drawings or recognize himself.

“Even though it can be quite easy for me to get pumped because of my height, I don’t have such a six-pack. In order to get this result, I’d need to spend day and night working my ass off at the gym,” Ethan commented, picking up one of the drawings and examining it curiously.

“Who said it’s you?” Noah uttered irritatedly, snatching back the drawing, where Morgan drew Thomson brushing his teeth. He was a kind of shirtless, sleepy, morning boy with disordered hair.

“You. You don’t have to tell it; you drew it. And you’re good at it. I didn’t have trouble recognizing myself.”

“I didn’t let you look at it,” Noah hissed, holding the drawings to his chest.

“And I didn’t give you permission to draw me,” Thomson answered back.

“It’s not you.”

“It’s me, and, trust me, you look way more stupid trying to persuade me about the opposite thing.”

Noah frowned. He didn’t have anything else to add; that’s why he was going through the sketches, thinking over his runaway options.

“Are you busy tonight?” Ethan asked after he understood that the fight was over.

“I am.”

“What are you doing?”

“None of your business.”

“What are you doing?” Ethan repeated his question insistently. Noah had a bold idea to make up some plans. For example, he could make up a story that he was supposed to go on a date with some hot football player. However, his hate for lies won, so he had to speak the truth:

“I promised to call my mother tonight.”

“When?”

“Around nine.”

“Okay, I’ll bring you home by nine.”

“Where are you taking me?” Noah didn’t understand anything.

“You’ll see.”

“Can you just tell me directly where we are going?”

“I’m telling you that you’ll see,” Ethan was starting to get mad, “It’s quite direct.”

“I’m not going anywhere unless you explain yourself. You’re describing everything too vaguely.”

“Listen, you...” Ethan stuttered, took a deep breath, recollecting himself, and then he continued in a calm tone of voice, “Do you want to start dating or not?”

Noah looked confused.

“Uh...What? I mean... You mean... Is it a proposal?”

“What? What proposal?”

“Dating proposal. Do you like me?”

Ethan frowned, like he had just hit his pinky toe against the corner of the bed, or had just accidentally smelled some hard spices.

“Morgan, are you an idiot?” Ethan was losing his patience again, “It’s obvious to everyone that I like you! Even Hughes didn’t miss the opportunity to roll his eyes about it.”

“Well... So, you mean... Wait... God... Do you really? Really? Then why did you—

Ethan asked Noah to shut up with a gesture.

“So, do you want to date me or not?”

“Me? Y-yes! Of course! You know I like... Well, you know! Of course, I want to be your boyfriend!” Noah rattled, feeling that he would definitely be embarrassed later, trying to remember everything that was happening at the moment.

“Then you need to find out something about me first. Go to the parking lot after your classes. I’ll be waiting for you there,” Ethan said, turned around and left towards the staircase.

“Did...did I get it right that I need to find out something first, and then we can start... Well, dating?”

Ethan had just taken one step down the stairs.

“That’s not for me to decide,” he said dryly.

“Then for who?”

Thomson sighed, looked at Noah and left without saying anything.

5' 3"

Ethan was drumming nervously on the steering wheel, feeling his fingertips burning because of this action. He had been waiting for Morgan for half an hour now, and anxious thoughts started appearing in his head. What if Morgan didn’t believe him? What if he decided that it was another scam to bully him? If Ethan was Noah, he would never trust anyone after his nasty boyfriend.

Maybe it was for the best? Ethan wouldn’t need to tell him about the worst humiliation in his life. He wouldn’t need to go through his past in front of the person that he liked. He could’ve just gone home, laid in his bed and just continued rotting peacefully in his room, thinking about what a nullity he was.

“Hi,” Noah plonked onto the passenger seat and shut the door.

Ethan needed a couple of seconds to get back from his dark thoughts to reality and finally answer:

“Hello.”

Ethan was happy to see Morgan, but at the same time he knew what was about to happen, so he had already started getting stressed out.

The ride felt even worse than it did when they were going back from the cemetery to Noah’s house. Some blues music was playing on the radio. The shadows outside the window were getting longer. This time Morgan didn’t turn back to the passenger window but was looking forward; however, he was probably glancing at Ethan with a corner of his eye from time to time. At least, Thomson glanced at Noah while driving and watching the road.

The ride in traffic lasted almost forty minutes. Ethan parked the car near a small church and stepped outside. Noah rushed after him. Thomson walked fast and ignored Morgan’s quiet questions. He was trying to focus, feeling himself imprisoned and voluntarily going to his own execution.

There were more people inside the church as usual. A sickly-looking, skinny man had just finished his story. Ethan sat down on the bench, far away from the others. Noah joined him. After the man had left the tribune with a row of applause, a man named Paul approached it. He was almost the only person to remain at every meeting.

“Does anybody else want to share something?” he looked at the audience.

Ethan clenched his arm and forced himself to raise it. Paul’s kind, round face showed confusion. Well, sure. Ethan had never shared anything for the past three years, and he always answered ‘no’ when someone would suggest he do so. He would only come to the tribune to get his next medallion. The last was hanging around Thomson’s neck. He would always touch this medallion to remind himself that not all was lost.

“Welcome,” Paul nodded, freeing the spot for Ethan. Thomson was afraid to look at Noah and went towards the tribune, stiff-legged. Morgan was sitting in the farthest corner of the room, but Ethan could still feel his confused stare. Thomson felt the medallion on his neck and grabbed it, seeking courage.

“Hello, everyone,” he said, sighing. Every word scratched his throat, unwilling to be heard, “My name’s Ethan. I’m a drug addict.”

Chapter Text

5' 3"

Ethan was staring at the tribune and ran his hand over his hair. His mouth was dry. Thomson was trying to breathe slowly, however, his heart was pounding, demanding more and more oxygen, so that his breaths became fast and short. Ethan’s whole body was slightly shaking, so he felt like the whole church was vibrating. That’s why he was sweating, feeling nauseous, even though he was trying to abstract his mind from his anxiety. Thomson came here to tell the truth, which he hadn’t had the guts to even think about out loud. Nothing could stop him now. 

“There was one episode that happened in my childhood, which will remain unspoken, since it doesn’t matter today,” Ethan forced himself to begin, being on the verge of taking his mask off, which made it hard to breathe. “I’m just going to highlight the fact that recovering was long and painful. The main person who was helping me during that time was my mother. She invested a lot of time and effort in me. So, when people from my surroundings and I felt like everything was over; when I finally felt like life was easy and nice again, my mother was diagnosed with fourth-stage cancer. Metastases spread through her whole body. Several tumors were inoperable. Doctors didn’t even try suggesting any options to help my mother feel better. Instead, they announced how much time she had left. Three to four months, that was what they said. Three to four months of pain and grief. And years and years of isolation and rebellion after.” 

Ethan let himself raise his eyes to look at the audience. People were listening to him attentively. Thomson was deliberately ignoring the part of the room where Noah was sitting. People who were in the church besides Morgan were too used to hearing about death, despair and amorality. None of them could be surprised by the facts that they had gone through themselves, partly or fully. Probably that was why Ethan attended these meetings of anonymous drug addicts. Not really because they prevented him from slipping, but because he needed to see that he wasn’t the only person who was disgusted by his own actions. It was somehow encouraging. Every person was trying to fix his life and move on. Which meant that Ethan was also capable of it. So now all these people acted like Thomson’s silent support, encouraging him to continue telling this unpleasant truth. If Ethan was alone with Noah, he wouldn’t find power to tell him everything in every single detail. Thomson would probably try to make Morgan feel sorry for him; he would easily persuade him that it hadn’t been Ethan’s fault. Though it was pointless to lie to people sitting in the church. They definitely knew verbal gymnastics that people used in order to hide their own shit. 

“My mother’s soon decease was definitely a blow for everyone in our family. However, it was only my mentality that was put back together by my mother’s careful hands. It was no surprise that this news broke my mom’s efforts into small pieces, rolling me all the way back to the condition even worse than the one I had before the incident I had spoken about earlier. Personally, I thought it was over. I was wrong. It turned out that the only person who was handling everything was my mother. However, I… I was like a parasite, taking everything she gave me and never returning anything back. How much I could’ve done! How much I should’ve done... But I haven’t. Instead, I turned her last years into hell, since I was sure I could make it up for her later. Now, the only thing I can do for her is plant some flowers on her grave. Not so much of a payback, huh?” Ethan laughed nervously. “However, it’s not what we’re talking about right now,” Thomson started tapping his index left finger onto the tribune, trying to gather his strength back to continue talking. He didn’t want to recall these memories at all. Though silent pictures from the past would always swirl in his head until the silent hysteria hit him again. 

“This tragedy, together with my puberty and old trauma, made me find peace, or better say, a short distraction. Luckily, my friends knew what to offer. At first, there were cigarettes. Then there was alcohol. I was still in high school, and soon it was completely normal to show up at school wasted. I used to smoke several packs of cigarettes per day. Later, I became so arrogant that I started smoking in my own room. My father didn’t have time to pay attention to what was going on with me, so I guess he wouldn’t even notice the smell even if I was smoking right in front of him. I got tired of nicotine and alcohol. The impact was too low and too short, which made me find alternative ways of seeking oblivion. That was when I found the brave new world  of drugs. [This phrase hints at ‘Brave New World’ by Aldous Huxley. Spoiler alert: there was nothing brave about that world, nor was about Ehtan’s situation. :)] At first, I tried ecstasy. Then there was LSD. Then I tried methamphetamine. I didn’t even notice when I got addicted to hard drugs. At the same time, I continued playing my role of the perfect son. My mom was still breathing. My father arranged a separate room for her, hired a nurse, took time out at work and was spending all the time with his wife. I also visited her room often. Though my sister was trying to stay away from that room. She was crying constantly. I saw that, while my mother and father, who almost never left the room, didn’t see that at all. Probably, that was why I told everyone at school, whenever they found my drugs, that these drugs were my sister’s, not mine. I was losing my humanity. I acted like a complete jerk. My mind, clouded because of drugs, decided that nobody would find out I had been lying. My sister used to go to the same school as I did. She had already graduated by that time, but still many people knew and remembered her. The rumors spread immediately. Our school principal notified my father. He thought I was telling the truth since I still maintained my grades somehow. Teachers turned a blind eye to my actions; they thought it was because of my mother’s disease. The father was smarter than the principal. After speaking with my sister, he understood that the drugs were mine. Then some stupid show began. My father would block my credit cards. I would steal stuff from home. My father would lock me up in my room. I would get out from the window in my room. Once, after trying to escape again, I fell out of the window and broke my wrist, which didn’t keep me from running to the nearest drugdealer and taking something quite strong. My father would place me under surveillance. It didn’t help, either. These episodes would repeat constantly. My father would try to help, and I would ruin everything. I thought the whole world was against me. Only drugs could soothe the pain. My father didn’t have the power to deal with me. On one side, he had an underage son who was a drug addict; on the other – he had a wife who was on the verge of death. Now, when I think about it, I become horrified at how much shit my father had to handle. You probably wonder, 'Why didn't he send me to rehab?' Because of my mother. He didn’t want to tell her I was addicted. If I decided to go to rehab, she would definitely notice my absence since I stopped by her room every day. I promised my father that I wouldn’t do drugs again. At least, not before seeing my mom. However… I remember almost nothing about the last month of her life. I was always high. And I made her find out about my addiction after trying to steal her medication. How? Why? For what? I have only some vague pictures in my head where my father ran into my room, grabbed my shoulders and yelled, ‘What have you done?! She doesn’t have much time left! Why did you do this to her?!’ 

Ethan bent down and placed his head against the tribune. He felt a lump in his throat. 

“Ethan, are you okay?” he heard Paul’s worried voice. 

“I’m fine,” Thomson exhaled, straightening his back again. He wasn’t done. The worst was ahead. 

“I was clean at her funeral, though I had agonies. My plan was to get high as soon as the service was done. My sister was crying. So was my father. The only emotion I had was irritation. I thought the priest was too slow. God…” Ethan sounded like the realization hit him all over again, making him shocked by his own lack of principles during that period of his life. “After my mother’s death, I lost control completely, and when my father told me that he had finally decided to send me to rehab, I ran away, taking all the stuff my hands could take. Among the things I took, the majority belonged to my mother. I hate myself for doing that,” Ethan said in a broken voice. “I hate myself for everything I've done, since I didn’t stop sinning after stealing some things from home. I traded expensive things for drugs. When I ran out of things I could exchange, my dealer offered me a deal. He said I was quite handsome. He told me guys like me were attractive. He said I could just be nice and do the things they wanted me to do. I could be compliant. I could be polite. However, if I had wanted to be sure that I had always had enough drugs, he would’ve needed to test me. He promised me a hit if I...” Ethan choked on air but continued, “...if I...” the words were stuck in his throat, “If I went down on him.” 

Ethan felt his ears blocked; his nose bridge was under pressure. His temples were itching because of the growing headache. Thomson didn’t stop. 

“I was eighteen. I wasn’t experienced back in my youth. The only experience I had was a couple of awkward kisses. However… I don’t need to tell you the answer I gave, do I? I was nice. I was polite. I did everything I was told to. Of course, it wasn’t the only case. My high brain decided that it was an easy way to get some cash. Yeah… Sure… The easy way. Can you believe it? I don’t remember my first time. Or even my first ten times. I don’t remember the person I was with. I don’t remember whether it was a man or a woman. I don’t remember how many people were there. I just remember the sense of triumph after I would get what I wanted. That was how I lived for two months, going from one drug shack to another. Soon there started to be fewer people who wanted to have sex with me. I lost weight, so I didn’t look so attractive anymore. My clothes were so loose, like they were hanging on a rack. Horrible times…”

Ethan wasn’t looking at the audience anymore. Instead, he was staring at the tribune, holding onto it, hesitant to look up. 

“Everything’s fine. If it’s too difficult for you to continue, you don’t have to…” Paul’s voice said. He always showed empathy towards every speaker. 

“No,” Ethan shook his head, “I need to tell everything. I’m not standing here because I suddenly decided to share my fucking life story. I’m here today because of one exact person.” 

Ethan wanted to look up at Noah, but he still didn’t have enough courage to do so, so he moved on, staring at the old tribune. There were so many cracks on it, it was easy to tell that this piece of furniture needed to be replaced a long time ago. 

“The only reason why I’m going out of my way for you for the first time ever is the guy I like. Oh, by the way, I’m gay,” he added quickly. “And my father has found out about it in an interesting way: when he was trying to find me, he once broke into one of the drug shacks and busted me earning the new dose. Haha!” Ethan chuckled sadly, understanding that his story was getting all over the place. “Though you don’t have to be gay to... In this case, you just need to be a drug addict, right? Ugh, well, anyway. The guy. I really like him, but the worst thing is that he likes me too. The first time I saw him, I heard some people discussing how many dicks he had sucked with his mouth. They thought he was a whore. I remember thinking that, no matter how many dicks he had sucked, he couldn’t beat me. Of course, those rumors weren’t true. Mostly, people who suffer from these rumors don’t usually deserve it. On the contrary, guys like me can live completely carefree, and no one would ever think that... Wait a minute, have I already told you about my father finding me with a dick in my mouth? Or... Wait,” Ethan stuttered and ran his hand across his hair under the hood again. Was it always so hot here? “Well… Whenever my father got me out of the crib, he took me to rehab the same day. Unlike my classmates, I didn’t spend my gap year trying to find my path and destiny. Besides, I failed all my exams, but it… Oh, yeah… While I was fighting my drug addiction, I was trying to treat the whole bouquet of STDs. My dad thought I was lucky. Seriously. He said it was a miracle I didn’t get AIDS or hepatitis. Sure, dad, I just had syphilis, gonorrhea and chlamydia, that’s all. Just a lucky boy I am!”

Ethan took several deep, long breaths. The worst part was over. The story needed an ending. Thomson took his thin, silver chain from underneath his turtleneck with a medallion on it. There was a Roman number III engraved on it. Paul handed Ethan that medallion. 

“It’s my fourth year of being clean, but you know well it means nothing. People slip after three years of sobriety. They do that after five years. Or even twenty.” 

“Not everyone slips. Some people never touch drugs again. You shouldn’t forget the positive examples while focusing on the negative ones,” Paul advised insistently. Ethan, to his own surprise, didn’t get mad after being interrupted. He just nodded humbly and continued. 

“When I started getting my consciousness in the clinic, I had a breakdown after realizing everything I’ve done. And… I still can’t forgive myself for all of that. I can’t get my head round my actions. Like I was locked in a body that was controlled by somebody else. It would be so easy to move on if it were true. Unfortunately, I can’t shift the responsibility onto someone else, except me.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Paul said, shaking his head. The majority of others supported him. “Addiction is—

“No,” Ethan disagreed, “It’s not the first time I hear that it was not my fault, apparently. I was a kid. I was vulnerable and amenable. And so on and so forth. Blah-blah-blah. However, it was my fault. It was my choice to do drugs. It was my choice to sell my body for a dose. Framing my sister and making her suffer from the rumors about her being a drug addict—it was all my choice. Selling my mother’s belongings that we never got a chance to return—the choice was mine,” Paul was about to disagree, but Ethan asked him to keep quiet with a gesture. “There were consequences to my actions. As you can see, I’m wearing gloves and a mask. Many people think I have mysophobia. That’s not right. I’m not afraid of bacteria and I really want to be able to touch people. However, I get scared of a single thought that all this shit that my hands and mouth were diving in could get on someone else. I know it seems made up, but I always feel like there’s some nasty smell coming from my palms and my lips. There’s a fear inside me that someone else might also smell it,” Ethan chuckled sadly. “And now my main trigger is the rain. It was constantly raining that year. And I usually worked  on the streets. Cold raindrops were falling right on my head. My knees were numb because of the cold weather. Wet clothes were sticking to my body. It was disgusting. And…” 

Ethan knew he was losing his courage. He couldn’t speak about it any longer. He didn’t want to remember everything again after talking about it. He had enough. 

Ethan went down from the tribune, slightly shaking, and rushed towards the exit. 

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It was hard to take in everything he had just heard. It was impossible that everything Ethan told was true. 

Noah froze for a second and lost his connection with reality. He recollected himself only when Ethan rushed by him towards the exit. Morgan needed several seconds to understand everything entirely, then he jumped from his seat and ran after Thomson with such a noise that everybody in the church turned around to look at him. It looked like they were way more interested in a guy Ethan had mentioned. 

“Excuse me, s-sorry! Excuse me!” Noah was mumbling before he finally managed to get outside. Ethan was already in the car. Ethan was already starting the engine. Ethan was going to leave. No way! Noah ran towards the car and stood right in front of it, spreading his hands to the sides. Thomson had already pressed the gas, so he had to hit the brakes quickly. 

“Are you nuts?!” Ethan yelled. You could hear his voice from the slightly opened car window. 

“No, you are nuts!” Noah snapped back. “You’re telling me this  and then you just leave?! Is running away your favorite way of dealing with problems?!” 

Ethan was watching Noah from underneath his eyebrows. Morgan rushed towards the passenger door and tried to open it. The door was locked. 

“Open the Goddamn door!” Noah demanded, kicking the door with his foot. 

Ethan looked at Morgan, completely shocked. 

“Do you even understand how much this car costs?” he asked almost in admiration. 

“Way less than my mental health!” Morgan was furious. “You brought me here. You’ll be the one to take me away from here!” 

He heard the sound of the door unlocking. Noah got into the car immediately and buckled up, just in case. What if Ethan decided to kick him out? Again. 

“If you think you can manipulate me after hearing about my past—

“For God’s sake!” Noah screamed. “Nobody's trying to manipulate you.” 

“You’re yelling at me.” 

“Damn it, of course, I’m yelling at you, you’ve almost left without me!” Noah made a helpless gesture. “Why the hell did you leave?” 

“I didn’t feel well. I couldn’t stay there any longer.”

“Okay. I can understand that. But why didn’t you call me to go with you?” 

“I thought that after you’ve heard everything, you wouldn’t…”

“Are you a psychic?”

“What?” 

“Wait, no, are you a mind reader? Did you read my thoughts?” 

“Me…No.” 

“So you don’t know how to read people’s minds, do you?” 

“I don’t,” Ethan snapped. 

“Then don’t think you know what I think about. Ask me instead. Isn’t it going to be more fair?” 

Ethan was silent. 

“Maybe,” he finally said. 

“Maybe,” Noah mocked him, irritated by his words. “Is it your thing—running away at the most important moment? You did it now! You did the same on Friday!” 

“I wasn’t running anywhere,” Ethan frowned. 

“Sure, you just told me to get out of your car, and then you just left, leaving me with no explanation of what the hell happened. You’re right, you didn’t just run away. You just walked off into the sunset.” 

“I didn't see anything offensive when I asked you to leave. I didn’t feel well, so I wanted you to... 

“Couldn’t you just tell me that?! Instead of saying, ‘Get out of the car,’ you could say, ‘I don’t feel well. I need some time alone. Please give me some space. On Monday we can meet and talk things through.’ No?!” 

Ethan flinched. 

“You should read less romance books, Morgan. When people are upset, they don’t have time for bowing and scraping. It’s impossible to care about another person’s feelings when you can’t handle your own. I know everyone’s trying to be tactful and polite nowadays. I guess it’s a good thing. But if the person lays down with a leg that’s been cut off, it’s almost cruel to ask him something like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.” 

“Your leg was fine,” Noah grunted. 

“Sure. I only felt like I was on the verge of dying or losing my fucking mind. Sorry that I felt so shitty I couldn’t jump around you, explaining to you for several hours what was going on.”

“You do understand, right, that you just needed to say a couple of words,” Noah was still stubborn. ‘I don’t feel well; we’ll talk later,’ that was enough.” 

“And you, on the other hand, were too clueless when you saw me sitting in the car, holding onto the steering wheel, struggling to calm down?” 

Noah decided to remain silent. Ethan sounded logical. He had nothing to prove him wrong. After all, what was the point? Morgan caught his breath and started thinking about what to do next. 

“I don’t care,” Morgan said quietly and looked at Ethan. He looked darker than a cloud, staring at a honk like his life depended on it.

“Can you hear me?” Noah tried to make sure. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Thomson said. There was pressure in his voice. 

“You’re wrong. I’m perfectly aware of every word I’ve just said. Besides, I do understand every single word you’ve ever said: in the church, or on any other day,” Noah said firmly. 

“Doesn’t it bother you that we always fight?” 

“We don’t fight. We talk, there’s nothing bad about it. It’s the best way to understand what the person actually feels,” Noah noticed. “We’re different. We think differently. We behave differently. So what?”

“Starting a relationship with a drug addict is similar to—

“You’re not a nark anymore,” Noah disagreed. “You said you’ve been sober for almost four years now.” 

“So, did you just decide to ignore the rest?” Ethan frowned, turning towards Morgan. “There’s no such thing as a former drug addict.” 

“Which does not necessarily mean you’re going to slip. That also doesn’t mean that you need to give up on your life now,” Noah objected. 

“Go to the back seat,” Ethan asked after being quiet for a moment. 

“Jesus Christ!” Noah got angry, “You said you like me, so...” 

“Go to the back seat,” Thomson continued insisting. 

“Fuck!” Morgan cursed, getting mad. Then he stepped outside the car and moved to the back seat. The thought of showing his pride and leaving the place hit him for a second, but he decided not to do something Ethan would do, escaping from the conversation. So, instead of leaving, Noah preferred showing how dissatisfied he was. 

Ethan got out of the car. 

‘Wonderful,’ Morgan thought, ‘Last thing he could do is to leave me in his car and go away!’ 

Ethan opened the passenger door and sat next to Noah. 

“What’s he up to?” 

Ethan sat on the back seat on the left-hand side from Noah. Morgan was a bit nervous. Thomson’s way of thinking had weird logic, so Noah knew he could expect anything from Ethan. 

Thomson looked at his palms for a couple of seconds and then shifted his gaze to Noah’s legs. Morgan was wearing another kimono shirt (it was black and orange with several blue Koi fish) together with ripped skinny jeans. That was why his naked knees and some skin above became visible to the universe. Morgan didn’t think it was a big deal until that moment. Ethan’s direct stare confused him, so he moved one knee to another. 

Ethan slowly took the glove off of one hand. Noah noticed his fingers were shaking a little. Thomson could stare at his palm forever, so Noah decided to give it a little boost and placed his left wrist on the seat, palm facing up. This move didn’t go unnoticed for Thomson. Ethan sighed soundly and stared at his hand again. 

‘That’s okay, no rush,’ Noah thought, but decided not to say it out loud. He was afraid this phrase could make Ethan mad. 

“What if I began to enjoy it?” Thomson asked, placing his hand a couple of inches away from Noah’s hand. 

“Hm?” 

“I haven’t touched a single person in a while. What if I lost control?” 

Noah doubted that Ethan could really lose it. Thomson was trying to scare him on purpose. 

“What would you do if you lost control?” Noah smiled. 

“Hm…anything.” 

“Like what?” Noah continued insisting. 

“Don’t make me say it out loud.” 

Noah was doing his best; however, he burst into loud laughter. Of course, Ethan was hinting at sex. Noah should've probably gotten scared, though it just amused him at that moment. Considering his previous relationship with Matthew, Morgan should’ve probably been worried. But… Firstly, he somehow knew that Ethan would’ve never let himself cross the line. Secondly, Noah wouldn’t mind if Ethan crossed it a little. Whenever he was alone with Ethan, he didn’t have the same fears as when he was with Matthew. 

“Did I say something funny?” Ethan frowned. 

“It’s just funny to hear something from a guy who’s literally terrified of touching my hand,” Noah said with a smile. 

“I’m not terrified,” Thomson disagreed. “Well… I’m not scared of touch; I’m scared of consequences.” 

“There will be no consequences,” Noah assured him. 

“You should better think about what these hands have touched before.” 

“I don’t care. Even if that had happened yesterday, I wouldn’t care,” Morgan emphasized the last part of the sentence. 

Ethan snapped his teeth irritatedly, still convinced that Noah didn’t understand the extent of the problem. However, Morgan understood everything. He knew that the size of the issue was smaller than Ethan had imagined himself.

Noah felt something slightly touch his hand and almost screamed out of happiness. Ethan rubbed Noah’s finger slightly with his thumb and exhaled soundly. He lifted his wrist, faced the palm down and almost placed it into Noah’s hand. Thomson stopped an inch away from Noah’s palm. However, even that distance let Morgan feel his hand’s warmth. Noah wanted to cheer Ethan, but instead, he decided to wait patiently, since he was afraid to scare him off. 

The actual touch finally happened. Ethan’s warm, sharp palm lay down into Noah’s hand. Unfortunately, Ethan tried to take it back almost immediately. When Morgan felt this intention, he squeezed Ethan’s hand, not letting him go so easy. Thomson was shocked and stared at Noah, fully terrified. 

“Let me go,” he said. 

“Do you really think bacteria have a timer and wait until they can stick to a new surface?”

“No, I’m afraid that…” Ethan stuttered. 

“You’re afraid of what?” 

“That yohastckout ” Noah was mumbling some gibberish. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“I’m afraid that your hand would stink out!” Ethan yelled. Noah didn’t even blink. Instead, he lifted Ethan’s hand up to his face, not giving him a chance to snap his hand away, and ran his nose across the wrist, inhaling deeply with his nose. Thomson’s facial expression changed as if he was about to have a stroke. Noah strangled a laugh and said: 

“It smells like your leather gloves.” 

“Jesus, Morgan!” Ethan screamed, snapping his hand away, trying to find something in his pockets. A second later, Noah was given a pack of antibacterial wipes. However, Noah, in order to fix the result, ran his tongue across the place where Ethan’s palm had touched his just a couple of seconds ago. Thomson looked pale. 

“Now all yours is mine,” Noah said, moving away from Ethan’s urge to wipe his hand. 

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Not at all.” 

“Wipe it off!” 

“Should I wipe my tongue, too?” 

“Of course!” 

“No way.” 

And again, Noah moved away from Thomson's new try to sanitize his hand. Ethan was uncompromising. He grasped Ethan’s wrist with a hand that had a glove on and started pulling the guy towards himself. Morgan did the opposite thing: he tried to turn away from Ethan, but he overrated his strength and lost the balance. As a result, Noah fell onto the car seat, pulling Ethan together with him. In order not to fall on Morgan, Thomson had to dig his hand into the seat a couple of inches away from Noah’s face. The other hand was still holding a napkin. 

“Morgan, you’re insane!” Ethan hissed. He definitely wasn’t trying to make a compliment. 

“The insane one says,” Noah grunted. If Morgan was in some romantic love story, that scene would definitely lead to a kiss. But Ethan didn’t move, and Morgan wasn’t sure that he hadn't crossed the line already. That was why he didn’t let himself do anything else, fulfilling the lack of physical intimacy with emotional one. 

“So, does that mean I fulfilled your conditions and we’re a couple?” 

Surprisingly, Ethan, who didn’t rush to change his position until that moment, moved away like he didn’t believe his ears. However, a moment later his surprise changed into a smile, which Noah noticed was beaming in Ethan’s eyes. 

“Yes,” Thomson affirmed quietly, “we’re a couple now.” 

Chapter Text

5' 8"-5' 9"

Noah felt so overwhelmed with emotions that he couldn’t and didn’t want to handle them any longer. As soon as he got home, Morgan immediately texted Andrea, ‘Now Ethan and I are together! We’re a real couple! Like the actual couple that... Well, you know!’ The message ended in the same list of unread ones, but Noah didn’t feel confused about it for a bit. His next victim was Scott. He, on the other hand, reacted just as Morgan wanted him to react. No longer than a minute later, his friend called him back to scream into his phone, “No cap?! Are you serious?! No way!” Their conversation lasted for longer than an hour. Scott was sincerely happy for Morgan to finally have a relationship; however, he couldn’t help but be worried a little. 

“You will tell me everything if Thomson does something inadequate, won’t you?” Noah just laughed back, still drunk from all the emotions. It was indeed possible that he saw the world through the rose-colored glasses at the moment, but he trusted Thomson entirely, so this hypothetical uncertainty coming from Thomson was just a joke for Morgan. 

Noah didn’t feel that Scott’s happiness was enough, so, later at night, he decided to share his feelings with Nicole. ‘Congratulations! You deserve it!’ he got an answer half an hour later, when Noah was getting ready to go to bed. ‘By the way, I went to the library, as I promised. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out. Nobody knows anything, nobody saw anyone.):’ Nicole’s words made Noah come down to earth. It was refreshing not to think about all the mayhem for at least a couple of hours. And how bad it felt to come back to it again. ‘That’s okay, Nicole! Thanks for your help anyways!’ he texted back. 

Nicole’s reminder sobered Noah up only partly. He just couldn’t feel down in the dumps. How could he possibly feel unhappy if his boyfriend was Ethan freaking Thomson? There was no way he could be upset!

Before going to bed, Noah texted Ethan a goodnight message. The answer appeared just a few seconds later, which made Morgan scream happily in the pillow. Fluffy gave his owner a side eye. Peanut tucked his face into Noah’s armpit and started snoring quietly. Morgan hugged his duvet, thinking it was Ethan. That was how he fell asleep in these hot cuddles. 

Noah couldn’t remember the last time he woke up in such a good mood. He wanted to share his happiness with the whole world. Thankfully, his mother called in the morning, so she was the one to accept The Nuclear Explosion of a Happily in Love Noah Morgan. She didn’t even have a chance to ask her usual question about ‘that boy’, because Noah showered her with the information about their relationship first. 

“We’re dating, we’re dating, we’re dating!” Morgan was jumping in front of his laptop like a kid who had been told that he was going to Disney World this weekend. His mom squealed happily, so both Peanut and Fluffy jumped on their feet and started running around the apartment anxiously. 

“I’ll tell your father tonight! He’s going to be so happy!” the woman assured. “Now I’m even more curious to see what he looks like! Show me some pictures!” 

Noah stopped jumping and even frowned a little. He didn’t have any pictures of Ethan, apart from those that were uploaded by someone in the anonymous chat. It was pointless to send them to his mom, at least because they were far from good quality. Besides, half of Ethan’s face was always covered by a mask. How was he supposed to explain that to his mother? He didn’t want to lie. Or tell the truth, either. 

“I’ll send them to you some time soon,” Noah promised, not having an idea how long this 'some time’ would take. Should he ask Ethan’s permission to take a picture of him? Or maybe he should show his mom one of his sketches? A neutral one. The majority of his sketches Morgan wouldn’t even show Ethan. Especially Ethan! Jesus Christ, if he saw them, he would think that Noah was a pervert! Which wasn’t true at all! He just liked drawing these kinds of... scenes. He didn’t say he wanted to be a part of them. And even if he would, then what?! He can dream about anything he can imagine! It doesn’t mean that Noah’s a pervert! Probably. 

Noah gave his cats a double amount of kisses before he left, since he felt the urge to show affection to everyone around him. Did Ethan feel the same way? Was it also a bittersweet feeling for him? Did he want to see Noah as much as Morgan wanted to see Thomson? If yes, then Noah could hope to meet him over the lunch break or after the classes. 

Inspired by the opportunity to see his boyfriend (Boyfriend!!!) Noah ran outside the apartment, came downstairs, and froze at the front door. Thomson was standing near his car, taking some pictures of the street. 

“G-good morning,” Noah mumbled, feeling suddenly embarrassed. 

‘Is he really my boyfriend? He is my boyfriend. Oh my God, he’s now my BOYFRIEND!’ 

“Good morning,” Ethan answered, still looking at his phone. He looked like he was waiting for something for a couple of seconds, then he took a picture and showed Noah his screen. “What do you think?” 

Thomson captured a flying pigeon with a camera, which was crossing a rising sunbeam. It almost felt that the bird was some alien creature that came to this routine world because of the background. It looked awesome.

“It’s wonderful,” Noah said out loud. Ethan’s eyes looked like he was smiling. “Ugh, well… What are you doing here?” Morgan asked after being quiet for a moment. 

“I’m waiting for you.” 

“Don’t tell me you never left home and spent the whole night here,” Noah joked awkwardly. Ethan did park the car in the same spot as the night before. His clothes changed partly, though. His black hoodie was now a dark-red one. It was the only change in his outfit. The same black jeans. The same fingerless gloves and the mask. The same lug sole boots. Thomson paid far less attention to the clothes than Noah. No, Noah wasn’t into fashion and could easily wear the same outfit for several days, but why would he need to do that if he had the whole wardrobe full of clothes? Andrea called Morgan a dress-conscious person. Though, instead of shopping in the real stores, he preferred online shopping. 

“Of course I did,” Ethan smirked, deciding to play along. “I was staring at your windows, not getting a wink of sleep. 

“You should’ve come upstairs. It’s better to spend a night of no sleep in bed,” Noah laughed. After noticing Ethan’s eyebrow flew up, Morgan understood that he had said something wrong. Then Noah understood the way it sounded, which made his face turn scarlet red. 

“That’s not what I meant!” he screamed. 

“Sure, sure,” Ethan said, opening the passenger door and gesturing to Morgan to get in the car. “It was definitely some Freudian slip.” 

“You just have a dirty mind!” Noah grunted, getting comfortable in the passenger seat. 

“That’s also true,” Thomson chuckled, closing the door. He went around the car and got into the driver’s seat. Ethan looked absolutely calm, on the contrary from Noah, who was on pinpoints. 

"A-a-and, by the way! We’re dating now! I’m your boyfriend,” boyfriend!!! “Which means I can...” Noah stuttered, trying to find the right words. 

“Have a dirty talk?” Ethan hinted. 

“I didn’t mean anything dirty!” 

“You could, though,” Thomson noticed, smiling with his eyes. “A coffee?” Ethan handed Noah a cup. 

“Thanks,” Morgan mumbled and automatically took a sip, suffering from embarrassment. Thomson took his mask down for a moment, took a sip of his coffee, then he placed the cup into the holder and started the car. Noah looked at Ethan’s coffee, and a bad thought crossed his mind. 

“Is it a regular coffee or a salted one?” he asked carefully. 

“Salted.” 

“May I have a sip?” 

Ethan looked at Noah heavily. Morgan could almost physically feel the uprising pressure. Ethan wanted to say ‘yes’. However, his whole body wanted Thomson to say ‘no’. These conflicting feelings were easily recognizable in every move he made. 

“You didn’t like it last time. What’s the point of trying it once again?” Ethan asked irritatedly. 

“I’ve never said I didn’t like it. I just said that it tasted a bit strange,” Morgan didn’t want to give up easily. “I need several tastings to develop the attitude towards this kind of coffee!” 

“You have a sweet tooth. That’s all.” 

“I never sprinkle my meat with sugar, though,” Noah answered back. 

“I’ve already taken a sip.” 

“I’m not fussy about germs.” 

Ethan frowned as if he was trying to solve a difficult math problem. 

“Maybe you’re fussy about germs, huh?” Morgan suggested, acting like he had no idea about the real reason for Ethan's confusion. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“So, I may try it, right?” Noah grabbed his cup and moved it towards his face, hesitant to touch the plastic lid without getting permission first. Ethan drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. Was Noah too fast? What if he created a challenge Thomson wasn’t ready for now? Morgan had to freeze for almost a solid minute until he heard the answer. 

“Fine,” Ethan answered, almost whispering. 

“Cool! Thank you!” Noah immediately took a sip of salted coffee, held it for a couple of seconds in his mouth and then swallowed it. “Hm…” 

It seemed like Ethan stopped breathing, staring at the street in front of him, like he was waiting for the world to collapse. 

“It’s still a bit strange, but it’s quite unusual,” Noah finally said. After thinking a bit, he took another sip to get a better taste and then another one again. 

“Are you going to finish my coffee now?” Ethan asked with clear relief in his voice. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I just can’t tell whether I like it or not,” Noah admitted. “Though it did bring up the taste of coffee,” he shared his thoughts, giving Ethan his cup back. Thomson hypnotized it for a couple of seconds and then took a sip after Noah had just done it. 

“Now it has a sweet aftertaste because of you,” he complained. 

“You shared your coffee, so I’m sharing mine with you.” 

Ethan tried to make himself look unhappy, but it didn’t work out well. Noah could see that Thomson was on the verge of smiling. 

“By the way, I have some good news,” Ethan said after they left the parking lot. “Duncan found out about the owner of the anonymous chat. Does the name Chad Foster ring a bell to you?” 

Noah shook his head. 

“I’ve never heard of him.” 

“We’re going to stop by today then,” Ethan announced. 

“What?” Morgan flinched. “For what?” 

“To have a chat. Why would I ask Duncan for any of that then?” Ethan noticed. That was true, though Noah felt anxious for some reason. He didn’t want to see his bully. He didn’t want to know why he was doing it. Noah just wanted rumors to end.

“What will we tell him?’ 

“We’ll tell him that if he doesn’t delete this stupid chat, we’ll turn his life into hell.” 

“Do you think he’ll buy this blind threat?” 

“Who said it’s a blind threat?” 

Morgan felt goosebumps on his back. 

“We’re not going to do anything illegal,” he articulated. 

“There’s no such law where you can’t find a loophole,” Ethan smirked. “I’m telling you that like a future lawyer. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make any mistakes.” 

“I hope so,” Noah nodded, looking at Ethan. The way he persuaded Thomson felt too easy. Yes, it was way too easy. He didn’t even try to convince him that Chad deserved a punishment. Morgan could suggest that Thomson was trying to be nicer because of their new status; however, however... There was no chance Ethan could become nicer in any circumstances. 

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Morgan asked carefully. Ethan shook his head a little. 

“As you can see, I presented you this new information quite matter-of-factly, with no tantara or anything,” he said. “I think we found the guy too easily. I doubt that the guy, who can hide money in the library books, didn’t think through the possibility of being busted in that pathetic chat. Besides, in order to bully a person for such a long period of time, you need a motive. This random Chad doesn’t fit in my portrait of a person we’ve been looking for.” 

‘Because you’re sure it’s supposed to be someone from my close circle, aren’t you?!’ 

“We have to check, though. Duncan gave me Foster’s schedule. He studies engineering.” 

“So he usually hangs around in another part of the campus, right?” 

“Exactly.” 

That was another mismatch. 

“He has a gap at 3pm today. We should find him right after the class,” Ethan said. 

“But what are we going to do if it’s not him?” Noah sighed. Thomson chuckled. 

“We’re going to continue searching.” 

5' 3"

Ethan had insomnia that night. At first, he couldn’t fall asleep because of the emotional excitement Thomson felt after talking with Morgan for an hour. They were holding hands the entire time. This nice feeling immediately dragged the desire for more. That desire conflicted with the psychological condition Ethan had, and it was driving him crazy. Was it possible to want something and be afraid of it at the same time? Wasn’t it dumb? Thomson’s imagination continued showing him pictures that made Ethan feel hot from time to time. 

Excitement decreased by midnight. The usual anxiety took place instead. Now Ethan wasn’t worried about his life, as it usually was, but about the life of Noah. 

What if Thomson was right when he had been trying to avoid people before? What if he really had some disease? What if he was already immune but still contagious? What if doctors didn’t notice something?! What if Noah was now lying in the middle of his apartment, covered by some weird rash, choking on the verge of fainting?!

Critical thinking was trying to hint that Ethan was delusional. Only those thoughts helped him not to make stupid mistakes. When it had happened for the first time, Thomson barely persuaded himself not to call Morgan at 2 am. Noah was probably asleep. Waking him up wasn’t a good thing. When it had happened for the second time, Ethan stared at his phone screen at 5am. Since he could only dream about falling asleep, Thomson had a cup of coffee, spent an hour on a treadmill and took a shower. Then he blinked and turned out to be at Morgan’s house. The fear had been torturing him for the whole night, but it slowly faded by the morning and changed into a bearable anxiety. His watch showed 8 o’clock in the morning, and it was pointless to hope that Morgan could go out that early. Ethan sat in his car for some time. Ethan went for a little walk along the street. Ethan stopped by the local cafe and got two coffees for him and Noah. Ethan got back to the car. Ethan put some salt in his coffee. After looking at Morgan’s windows for another time, he noticed Noah’s top of the head messing around, like he was jumping on one place. 

‘What’s he doing there?! Should I check on him?’

Ethan shook his head, getting rid of these thoughts. He didn’t want to annoy Noah. The fact that Thomson was already waiting outside of his house early in the morning was enough. This persistence could be too much for Morgan.

What if he gets tired of Ethan? What if he decides that Thomson isn’t the best candidate to build a relationship with? To Ethan’s mind, he was a terrible candidate. 

After Thomson understood that he had been overthinking again, he took his phone out and started taking pictures of the street in the morning sunshine. The majority of photos seemed pathetic to Ethan. And only the last one seemed to be worth something. 

It was either the morning sunlight, or Ethan’s lack of sleep, or the change in their relationship status with Morgan, but Noah looked even more handsome than he usually did. 

Light-gray skinny jeans brought out his lean legs. A white t-shirt together with a black kimono shirt (God, how many of them did Morgan have?) stood in contrast with each other. The embroidered silver koi fish swimming  on the black fabric were sparkling in the sunshine. Morgan’s happy eyes were the final touch of the fit. Ethan didn’t have to worry that he might’ve annoyed Noah by his presence. The guy was truly happy to see him. 

“Let’s have a deal to behave appropriately,” Noah asked when they arrived at the university parking lot. He was worried that Ethan could do something with his possible bully. He had a right to worry. If Foster was indeed responsible, then Thomson wouldn’t be gentle with him. 

“Let’s have a better deal. You will behave appropriately as you usually do , and I’m going to behave according to the situation as I usually do . Let’s play a good cop and a bad cop, shall we?” 

“No, that’s not going to work,” Noah disagreed. “You can’t just attack the random person. It can be dangerous, Ethan.” 

“I doubt some pathetic engineering boy can actually do something to me.” 

“How do you know he’s pathetic? What if he’s a six-and-a-half-foot tall gym boy?!” 

“It’s his loss then. It’s dangerous when your enemy can grab your balls faster than you can reach them,” Thomson laughed. 

“Ethan, I’m serious,” Noah frowned. 

“Hm-m-m-m…” Thomson parked the car quickly and stopped the engine. “So, you want me to be nice?” 

“Exactly.” 

“What will I get as a reward?” 

“What would you want?” 

It seemed that they had already had this type of conversation before. Morgan was so chill about these questions because he probably thought that, considering Ethan’s issues , Thomson wouldn’t let himself wish for something that Noah couldn’t do or felt it would be too provocative for him. Morgan probably had his reasons to tell that physical contact wasn’t that important for him for several times at least. That was some sort of announcement! Ethan was on the verge of saying that he was in desperate need of physical contact. He needed it like air. Especially after years of loneliness. And he would be way more persistent if he didn’t have to overthink things so much. 

On the other hand, Noah was giving mixed messages. He was telling one thing, but then he was doing the other. For instance, his wish to try out Thomson’s coffee. Ethan was about to have a stroke when he saw Morgan’s lips touch his coffee cup. However, this emotional disaster ended as fast as it appeared. Was it because Noah didn’t actually die after the sip he took? Or because he didn’t complain about the taste? He didn’t tell Thomson that the cup had a weird smell, did he? It was still shocking, but Ethan accepted it way faster than when Noah tried touching his hand. 

You didn’t have to be a psychology expert to understand why Noah was doing all of that. Morgan was forcing events boldly. He insisted that he didn’t need physical touch, yet he was trying to do everything possible to make Ethan get comfortable with him and let himself come out of shell around Noah. 

However, Ethan didn’t need to come out of shell. 

“So I can ask for anything?” 

“Within reasonable limits. If you, for example, tell me to do a split, I won’t be able to do that, obviously.” 

“So your limits are equal to your physical abilities?”

“Exactly.” 

Ethan was on the verge of rolling his eyes at this naivety. These limits seemed way too weak to count them as a protection. 

“Then how about jerking off in front of me?” Noah wasn’t the only person who could force the events. 

Morgan, who was, unluckily for him, trying to finish his coffee at that moment, choked. He needed time to clear his throat. Ethan was patiently waiting for the answer. 

“It isn’t funny,” Noah mumbled, his neck scarlet red. 

“Why do you think that half of my phrases are jokes? Do I look like a clown to you?” Thomson asked. 

“Oh, no! No! Of course, not!” Noah panicked. “You just say those things sometimes…”

“What things?”

“Insane things.” 

“Make up your mind already. Am I a clown or a mentally ill person?” 

“Neither!” 

Ethan continued staring at Noah. 

“Let’s summarize. I’m neither a clown nor a mentally ill person. Which means that my words are neither a joke nor delirious nonsense. Right?” 

“R-right,” Noah affirmed. 

“So?”

“So what?” 

“So will you do it for me?” 

It seemed that all the blood surged to Morgan’s face. 

“So you’re not jok–” Noah swallowed the last word because he knew he was making the same mistake again. “W-why do you need it?”