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?"
5' 3"
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."
5' 8"-5' 9"
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.