5' 8"-5' 9"
More than a week had passed since the chat was deleted, yet Noah still was in a strange, apathetic state. Before meeting Nicholas, he'd been driven by a surge of all-consuming rage and a bitter sense of betrayal. Afterwards, however, there was nothing left. Every morning, the moment he opened his eyes, Noah listened to himself. He tried listening to himself at lunch, chewing yet another pastry absentmindedly with no appetite. He tried again in the evenings, brushing Fluffy and Peanut. Nothing. A deafening, hollow nothing. Morgan tried fishing back out his emotions from wherever they were smoldering deep inside him, but they refused to take shape, neither in words nor in actions. He'd thought he would break down into tears once it was all over. Or maybe he would scream. Maybe he would smash a few plates, or worse, pick a fight with someone. There would've been plenty of candidates for that. Deleting the chat hadn't brought Noah any peace. People weren't in a hurry to forget his ruined reputation. The mockery continued, even if not as openly as before. However, one could still hear jokes and gossip around Noah.
"Hey, is that guy really…?"
"Oh yeah, he's basically a campus celebrity now, haha!"
The only thing that had indeed disappeared was dirty talk, since everyone on campus learned who Noah belonged to now. Morgan didn't like that definition. It made it sound like he was Ethan's property. But people weren't ready to accept that Noah Morgan—the campus slut, the person who had at least a thousand and one dicks in his mouth, the person who'd agree to anything as long as the price was right—could actually be in a normal relationship. One where he was loved. And with whom? With some rich introvert weirdo.
"Do you mean that Ethan Thomson?"
"Yeah."
"What's so special about Morgan though?!"
"I heard Thomson's kind of messed up too."
"Honestly, for that kind of money, I'd put up with anything."
"Lol."
"Doesn't their relationship count as pedophilia? Ethan looks like a teenager…"
"Morgan's not exactly picky."
"How convenient. Wouldn't be a problem to fuck with him. He'd slip it in and you wouldn't even notice. Bet his dick's the size of my pinky."
"Damn, shut up. Thomson may be small, but he's psycho."
Whores don't just get such golden tickets. This wasn't a movie. And Noah wasn't Julia Roberts. People understood that perfectly well, so they kept digging deeper, spinning wilder and wilder theories to explain how this relationship even existed. With Morgan, everything was obvious, but why had Thomson chosen him? Speculation spread like wildfire. Ethan was painted in the worst possible light. The good thing was that Thomson didn't care. The bad thing, however, was that Noah still did. In fact, he reacted more than before, either because he was emotionally exhausted or because he'd finally realized he wasn't to blame for any of it. Only now did Morgan understand why he'd put up with everything for so long without fighting back. On some subconscious level, he'd always believed he'd done something wrong. He may have hurt someone. So he deserved it. Now he knew he hadn't. And instead of relief, that realization brought something far worse: the horror of understanding how easily people could destroy someone's life for no reason at all. Just because they felt like it. Because, for fuck's sake, it was fun.
"Why didn't she post a denial?" Morgan should have been thinking about that with hatred toward Nicole, but he felt nothing, as if his nervous system, unable to handle the overload, had switched to autopilot. That didn't mean Noah felt nothing at all. It was actually the opposite, though; he couldn't give shape to the blinding outrage inside him. This feeling was poisoning Morgan from within, leaving no trace on his face or in his voice. Noah remained visibly calm, but his heart had been racing lately. His hands kept trembling. Painful spasms rippled through his body from time to time. The nausea never left, day or night. Morgan felt like shit. And at the same time, he felt nothing at all.
"Why didn't she even try to apologize?" Noah was afraid of the answer, even though it lay right on the surface. Nicole wasn't mentally well. Something inside her had broken. Perhaps the moment when she found her brother in the bathtub with his wrists slit open shattered her. Or maybe earlier, when she recognized her feelings for Nicholas weren't exactly similar to a sibling bond. After all, she could've been born broken. It was at least naive to be expecting someone who barely qualified as "normal" to behave like a healthy person. And yet, Noah was still waiting for an apology.
"Why didn't she try to explain herself?" For the same reason, he shouldn't have expected an apology from Nicole in the first place. And still, the questions kept surfacing in Morgan's mind, whether he wanted them to or not. Sometimes Noah recalled moments with his now former friend included, hoping to force himself into feeling something. Nothing. Everything trembled and boiled inside, but nothing spilled out.
Back when things got especially bad, Nicole would come over to Noah's place several times. She'd sit at his desk, pet his cats, and offer Morgan her shoulder and gently rub his arm while Noah sobbed uncontrollably. She'd tell him everything would work out, while hoping it wouldn't. She'd say the bullying couldn't last forever while making it worse. She'd say people were cruel and stupid and that Noah was innocent, while thinking the exact opposite. Back then, her slight detachment seemed like a personality quirk. Noah could never have imagined that behind that empty gaze lurked a dying urge to hurt him and a twisted enjoyment of his suffering. Did she like the process? Or had she been pushing him toward something? Had Nicole wanted to drive Noah to the point where, like her brother, he'd get into a bathtub and now cut his own wrists? She wanted him dead, didn't she?… Now, there was no way to learn the truth.
Even Noah's poor sick grandmother ended up being a part of her revenge. It was enough to understand how badly Nicole needed professional help.
After classes, Noah was sitting on a bench by a small pond on campus. The cold wind tousled his wavy hair. His fingers burned against the cardboard cup of overly hot coffee from that same vending machine where drinks cost an absurd amount for any average student. Noah had never bought coffee there before, but today he decided to treat himself. After everything he'd been through, he deserved that damn overpriced coffee.
Morgan was waiting for Ethan, who promised to pick him up after class. Thomson hadn't left Noah alone for too long throughout the entire week. He drove him to class in the mornings and picked him up in the evenings. And even if Ethan couldn't stay the night, he still spent the evening with Noah. They barely talked. Morgan didn't have the energy for conversation, and Ethan didn't push. Sitting in silence together felt just as natural as talking. They watched movies, ate ice cream, and studied for their classes, occasionally exchanging short, fragmented remarks.
"Coffee?" Ethan would ask.
"Sure," Noah would nod, sinking back into his paper or whatever new material he had to study.
"I'm going to bed," Morgan would say.
"Goodnight," Thomson would reply with a nod, always staying up late over some coursework. He never went to bed before midnight. Noah knew this fact because he would wake up from his restless dreams whenever Ethan finally turned off the lights, slipped under the covers, and lay down close to him. Thomson moved quietly and carefully, hoping not to wake Noah up. But he opened his eyes every time—and every time, he was glad he did. It let Noah feel that care, that tenderness Ethan tried not to show on an everyday basis. Thomson always gave him a light kiss before settling in. And he always pulled Morgan as close as possible, as if he were afraid Noah might fall, either off the bed or into the abyss of his thoughts.
"Ethan."
"Yeah?"
"Um… what about sex?"
That conversation happened on that unfortunate day. After coming back from the psychiatric hospital, Noah couldn't sit still and decided that sex might be a good distraction for him.
"No," Ethan said back then so coldly that Noah didn't dare to ask why. He never brought it up again. Neither did Thomson. Maybe he was waiting for something. Or maybe their first time didn't leave an impression strong enough for him to want to repeat it anytime soon.
Andrea Long: "Alright, team, I've got some news!"
Andrea's text cut through Noah's haze of apathy and made him flinch. News? Again? Hadn't there been a little too much lately?
Andrea Long: "They want us on stage next Friday at 'I want you deadly'!"
Morgan let out an involuntary sigh of relief. Why does it always have to be something bad, right?
Scott Kelly: "Hold on. Did you confirm?"
Andrea Long: "Of course!"
Scott Kelly: "Andrea! Why do you never check with the band first?! Doesn't it bother you that we don't have a vocalist?! Steve told us to fuck off after last time!"
Andrea Long: "Why would we need Steve when we've got Noah?!"
Scott Kelly: "Right. Because Noah is exactly in the mood to shine on stage right now."
Noah Morgan: "It's okay. I'd be happy to perform with you guys. :)"
Scott Kelly: "Will you be happy rehearsing with us till midnight too?"
Noah Morgan: "I think so. :)"
Andrea Long: "Scott yells every twenty minutes, but you can just ignore him like the rest of us do!"
Scott Kelly: "Hey?! What do you mean?! You're saying none of you listen to me?!"
The chat picked up speed. Noah would've gladly distracted himself in it, but then he suddenly felt something was off. He looked up and locked his eyes with Nicole. She was standing just a couple of feet away. Noah froze. Goosebumps ran down his spine, and his breathing turned shallow. Two and a half years of hell. He gripped onto his phone, staring at the girl. Did she really want him dead? Before Noah had thought that Nicole's detachment was more like a quirk, he now understood what it truly was. Probably a mental illness.
They've been probably looking at each other for no more than a couple of seconds, but to Noah, it felt like an eternity. Nicole looked the same as ever. She had no dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights like the ones now marking Noah's face. She had no premature lines across her forehead like the ones Nicholas had. And there was no regret in her eyes. There should have been. But there wasn't.
Nicole was standing with a small box in her hands. Inside, there were a couple of textbooks, a stack of notebooks, and some documents: her student file, maybe. What happened?
"Fair enough," Nicole said suddenly, snapping Noah out of his daze. Morgan was about to ask what she meant, but then he heard the voice.
"Did you forget the main condition of our agreement?" Thomson's voice, full of steel, cut through the moment, filling emptiness around Noah. Nicole shifted her gaze to Ethan, her hands tightened on the box, and then she suddenly turned around and left.
"What was that?" Noah asked, watching her retreating figure. "What was that supposed to mean—'fair enough'?" He stood up from the bench. "How about…how about you…" The vacuum of apathy began to crack. "HOW ABOUT YOU APOLOGIZE, YOU FUCKING BITCH?!" he roared, feeling the toxic emotions finally forcing their way out. Of course, Noah had wanted to let his anger out, but not like this. What he really wanted was to chase Nicole and beat her up.
"Hey…" Ethan placed a hand on Noah's shoulder, and the wave of rage receded immediately. Noah turned to him, and his face must have looked so miserable that Ethan did something completely out of his character: he hugged Morgan right in the middle of the street. It wasn't that Thomson never showed affection. But Noah had already realized he didn't like doing it in public. Around other people, he preferred throwing out nasty, porny suggestive remarks rather than holding Noah's hand or hugging him.
"Did you hear what she said?" Noah whispered, gently pulling away from the embrace and sitting back down on the bench. "'Fair enough.' Does she still think this was my fault? After everything she found out?!"
"I think she meant something else…" Ethan said slowly, sitting down beside him.
"Like what?" Morgan frowned, then shook his head. "Actually, it doesn't matter! Either way, the conversation should've started with an apology! 'Noah, I'm sorry I turned your life into hell!' That's what she should've said! Am I right? Damn it… I didn't expect to see her, so I messed up. But next time—"
"There probably won't be any next time," Thomson said almost casually.
"Ethan, Nicole and I go to the same campus. Whether you like it or not, we're going to occasionally run into each other," Noah said darkly, though the thought didn't please him either.
"Not anymore." Ethan stretched slightly as he said it, still looking completely casual.
"What do you mean?" Noah frowned.
"She doesn't study here anymore."
"What? What do you mean? Why? Is she transferring to another university? Is that her answer? Did she decide to just run away from me like that?!" Noah was burning with anger again.
"No. That was my answer." Ethan pulled a folded sheet of paper from the bottomless pocket of his hoodie and handed it to Noah. Morgan looked at it and froze.
"A restraining order?"
"Exactly."
"No less than a hundred yards?"
"If she comes any closer again, you have every right to call the police. I'd be more than happy to see her held liable, civilly or criminally," Ethan said with a faint smile in his voice.
"How… how the hell did you manage to get a restraining order without me involved?" Noah still didn't quite know how he was supposed to react.
"I can do a lot of things, Morgan," Thomson said, fixing his dark gray eyes on Noah. "Do you think I went too far?"
"No…" Noah was surprised—but what he felt was relief, not resistance to Ethan's unilateral decision. "But transferring wasn't necessary," he added with a quiet sigh, handing the document back. "She put so much effort into her studies…" Why did that still bother him?
"No, Noah. She put so much effort into stalking you that there wasn't much time left for studying," Ethan corrected calmly. "And she didn't transfer. She was expelled."
"What for?" Noah straightened his back. Ethan only snorted skeptically in response.
"What for, indeed? It's not like she organized a two-and-a-half-year harassment campaign against someone," he said dryly.
"Did the administration find out?!"
"They knew before. They just chose to ignore it until it became a real threat to the university's reputation by a lawsuit my father would have definitely won," Ethan replied. So that was it.
"She probably won't be able to transfer anywhere in the middle of the semester…"
"Let's start with the fact that no one's waiting for her," Thomson said with a quiet exhale. "Or do you think a note like that in her record will help her? Higher education is closed to her now."
Noah locked his fingers anxiously. He should have felt relieved, but all the news stirred up was sadness.
"Aren't you happy?" Ethan asked, as if reading Morgan's thoughts.
"I… don't know," Noah admitted honestly. "When you mentioned an agreement with Nicole… did you mean the restraining order?"
"Not exactly."
"Is there something else I don't know about?" Noah frowned.
"I went to her house," Ethan said after a brief pause.
"What? Why?!"
"What do you mean, why? To tell her parents everything."
"Oh my God…"
"I also mentioned Nicholas and Nicole's… special relationship," Thomson added calmly. "Don't make that face. I'm not an idiot."
"Ethan, why? That was their secret!"
"Why would I care about their secrets? The only person I care about is you," Thomson shrugged his shoulders. "They can deal with that mess on their own now," His tone sharpened. "I'm not about to cover for someone who'd rather stab you in the back than pull their heads out of their asses and just talk. Fuck them."
"But it's still kinda…"
"Nicole needs professional help. Now her parents know that. I promised not to take it to court on the condition that they deal with her treatment immediately." Ethan exhaled, watching Noah closely. "I think that's a lot more mercy than she deserves." Morgan nodded silently. Ethan was right. But Noah had no idea how to feel about any of it. His thoughts were a mess.
"I think you need to relax a little," Ethan said after a moment, his gaze fixed on Noah.
"If I only knew how," Morgan muttered, unable to stop his hands from trembling.
"Can I make a suggestion?"
"Yeah… sure."
"Then let's go," Ethan said, getting up from the bench.
"Where?"
"You'll see."
5' 3"
Ethan decided Morgan needed a bit of a shake-up. He'd given Noah a full week to try to pull himself out of it on his own. But Morgan remained stuck in that low, drained state, avoiding putting his feelings into words whenever he could. Well… Ethan was going to take matters into his own hands and drag as many emotions out of him as he could. Or maybe even a little more.
"Wow…" Morgan said under his breath, looking around as soon as they stepped into the lobby of one of the best hotels in the city. Ethan figured Noah would like it. The reviews went on and on about the incredible mix of Gothic, Baroque, and Rococo in the design. Ethan didn't understand any of that at all, but the way Noah stared at everything with such open fascination told him he'd made the right call.
"Are we… actually allowed to be here?" Morgan asked quietly, lingering just behind Ethan like he expected someone to come up and throw them out any second.
"It's a hotel, Morgan," Ethan said with a faint smile.
"Yeah, but it's a really expensive one," Noah muttered. "I doubt just anyone can stay here."
"We're not just anyone."
"No, you are not just anyone," Noah corrected. "But I am."
Ethan stopped and turned to face Noah.
"Take that back…"
Morgan got embarrassed, clearly not understanding what he'd said wrong.
"…and don't talk about yourself like that again," Ethan said strictly with a frown.
"I just mean that…" Noah started to blush, bracing himself. "I literally smell like poverty," he finished, almost under his breath. Ethan reached out, slid a hand to the back of Noah's neck, and pulled him closer in one sharp motion. Before Noah could say anything, Ethan tugged his mask down with another hand, leaned in, and took a slow breath against Noah's neck.
"Smells like the sea and paint to me," he said. Morgan blinked, stunned, then quickly pulled away, glancing around in alarm.
"Are you insane? Doing that in public?!"
"Doing what?"
"Sniffing me!"
"I can sniff my boyfriend wherever I want," Ethan said flatly, then turned and continued toward the front desk. Noah hesitated for a second before hurrying after him, worried his so-called "molecules of poverty" might start seeping into the expensive carpet and ruin it.
"Ethan Thomson. I have a reservation for a suite."
A pleasant-looking receptionist started typing immediately.
"Don't you want to come a little closer?" Ethan asked Noah, who was still shifting from foot to foot a couple of feet away.
"I just… I mean… why are we even here?" Morgan managed quietly.
"I figured you needed a change of scenery," Ethan said, adjusting the gym bag slipping off his shoulder. "We're staying here for the night," he added in a firm tone. "Don't worry, I already arranged for your neighbor to feed the cats this evening."
"When did you even meet her?!" Noah's genuine surprise made Ethan smirk.
"I've had plenty of time. And Mrs. Campbell takes a particular interest in her neighbors' lives. She caught me outside your door recently and demanded to know who I was. Apparently there had been more break-ins in your area," Ethan said while waiting for the room key.
"And what did you tell her?"
"The truth," Ethan replied, taking the key cards and showing Noah to follow.
"Oh God… the neighbors don't know about my…" Morgan groaned.
"I don't think anyone cares about your orientation, Noah. In fact, after I gave Mrs. Campbell a new pillow for her old dog, she was ready to officiate our wedding," Ethan said with a faint chuckle as he stepped into the luxurious elevator.
"It's not like I actually care if they find out I'm gay," Noah muttered. "But Mrs. Campbell is such a gossip. She'll definitely tell everyone some completely different version of things…" His blush had already spread from his face down to his neck and ears.
Ethan pressed the top-floor button. The elevator doors shut in complete silence.
"In her version, I'll be the man of your dreams," Ethan said. "I've never said that many compliments in my life. Not even to you."
Noah smiled embarrassedly and looked around again.
"Unbelieveable!… This is—" He stepped closer to the far wall of the elevator and carefully ran his fingertips over the intricate, raised floral pattern. "This is handmade, Ethan. That's incredible!"
How adorable.
"Do you like it?"
"Are you kidding? It's such a fine work!"
"You haven't even seen the room yet," Thomson said with a smile. Noah looked at him with those striking, ocean-colored eyes and, for the first time in a while, showed a genuinely positive emotion. Ethan's smile widened.
There was only one suite on the top floor. Ethan tapped the key card against the sensor, pushed the door open, and gestured for Noah to go in first.
"Jesus Christ…" came an almost immediate, stunned exclamation. "What is this, royal chambers?"
Ethan couldn't help it and spluttered with laughter. The truth was that the idea for a date in this hotel suite wasn't his. It was his father's. Thomson was worried about Noah, but he didn't know how to show it the way he wanted to. And even less did he understand how to actually support Morgan. Ethan was usually the one people supported, not the other way around. And it suddenly hit him that he had no idea what he was supposed to say or do to help Noah start letting go. For several days, Ethan had been torturing Duncan with questions at the hospital.
"Maybe you should get him something."
"Since when do gifts heal emotional wounds?"
"Fine. Then a romantic dinner?"
"He hasn't had much of an appetite lately."
"A relaxing massage?"
"You're completely useless, Duncan!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake! I'm lying here with a bullet wound! Sorry I didn't also finish a psychology degree on the side!"
Andrea and Scott were his next targets. But they weren't much help either. They said they usually just came over and let Noah cry his feelings out. But what were you supposed to do if he wasn't crying? What if he looked like the truth that came out was the final blow? Ethan recognized that look all too well. He'd seen it more than once in his own reflection. Emptiness. He knew that if you didn't pull someone out of that state quickly, they could stay stuck in it for a very long time. And even if they eventually made it out, they wouldn't be the same person anymore.
Ethan's father was buried in work. However, it didn't stop him from storming into his office, despite the secretary's protests. Then he swept the carefully arranged documents off his desk and dumped everything that had been weighing on him.
"When I saw your mother was on the edge, I used to take her to our special place."
"And what place would that be?"
That was when Michael showed him the suite.
"It looks… I don't know… almost obscenely expensive?" Ethan tried to choose his words carefully. He didn't want to criticize, but he didn't quite understand either.
"That's because all you see here is money," Michael laughed. "Same as me, really. But for your mother, it felt like stepping into another world. Like we hadn't just gone to another street, but somewhere else. A place where none of our problems existed. A change of scenery always helps. The contrast between what a person is used to and what they see here—that's what really makes the difference. You see money. I see money." He paused. "And your mother saw magic."
"I could just take Noah to some kind of kink hotel with the same result," Ethan scoffed. "Wouldn't that count as a drastic change of scenery?"
"No, it wouldn't," Michael disagreed. "Look at the photos. Soft colors. Aesthetic. Art!"
"You know I don't really get that kind of thing."
"You don't. But what about Noah?"
That was true. Morgan would definitely see something more in all of this than just money poured into decor.
"This is insane—this is insane—this is insane! Look at this! It's not even made of plastic! It's all real!" Morgan rushed through the suite, his eyes lit up. It was clear proof that Ethan's father's suggestion hit the mark.
"Did you see that?!" Morgan came back to Thomson, pointing excitedly toward the bedroom. When Ethan didn't respond right away, Noah grabbed his hand and pulled him along.
"Wow…" Thomson said, genuinely surprised. "It looked smaller in the photos."
"It's divine!" Noah echoed. "Wait, what? What do you mean 'it looked smaller'? I'm talking about the tapestry. It's handmade! What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the bed," Ethan exhaled, dropping his bag on the floor and pulling off his mask, gloves, and a hoodie.
Morgan looked at the bed like he had just noticed it. His neck turned red immediately.
"Why do they even make them this big…" he mumbled quietly.
"I ordered some food, but I don't think we should wait when they bring it in," Ethan said, ignoring the question. "Let's start now."
"Start what?" Morgan asked. In response, Thomson pulled several coils of rope out of his bag and unrolled one of them to show Noah.
"Your emotional therapy, of course," Ethan said slowly. "Take your clothes off."