Chapter 17

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 stranger 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.