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.