5' 8"-5' 9"
Noah persuaded himself that Ethan didn't mean anything special, using the term 'specific'. Thomson was probably just whipping up tension, trying to reinsure himself and probe Noah's reaction. Recently, Thomson hardly got enough understanding from society. Actually, it was the opposite. He already got used to living against everything. Against the opinion of others, against social norms, and against lots of things that make society look like one. That's why Noah wasn't surprised to find out that Ethan was trying to hide his every hobby from everyone almost instinctively. Thomson's will to open his little secret to Noah emphasized brightly his unique favorability towards Morgan. It made him happy. However, Thomson couldn't trust Noah completely yet. That was why he decided to warn Morgan about his possible ambiguous reaction. It was a test, wasn't it? If it was, then Noah was going to pass it with the best grade, no matter what it could take.
The feeling of a gun lying in your hand and the recoil from every shot still made his palms burn. It was an unusual feeling. Noah always tried to stay away from the firing arms, thinking of it only from the perspective of direct danger for human life. The shooting range proved that sometimes humans could be not just victims in the formula, and that was when firing arms could create a different impression. Force and power. Nice tension in the wrists. And the feeling of self-satisfaction after making the bull's eye. It was sort of therapy when everything else wasn't so important anymore. The gun, the target, the result—it was all your attention needed to be concentrated on while shooting.
After they had shot all the bullets, Ranbir let Noah take the target home. For memories. Now it was lying rolled up in the back seat of Ethan's car. For Morgan, it was valuable not only because it kept the proof of his either inherent accuracy of aim or luck, but also because there were Ethan's accurate bullet marks around Noah's chaotic ones. It wasn't a picture of them together, but it was already something. The only thing he had left to do was decide where to hang it, since there was no empty space on the walls of Morgan's flat. Apparently, he had to take off one of his grandmother's paintings. Would it be okay to do so?
After some moral bargaining, Noah finally let himself do so. The past shouldn't hold on to the future. Besides, Noah wouldn't lose his respect for his grandmother's art if he took another painting down and put it in the corner of the room near the radiator.
Morgan was aware that Ethan was from a wealthy family but still couldn't handle a gasp of surprise when Thomson's car pulled into the closed driveway.
"What a house!" he exclaimed, leaning forward to see the mansion more closely. Considering that Morgan was thinking about where to find a place in his tiny flat to hang the piece of paper during their thirty-minute drive, Ethan would probably never have such a problem in his house.
The car drove silently across the rubble driveway straight to the garage. Automatic doors opened in front of them, making Noah grasp for the second time. The garage turned out to have the same characteristics as Tardis, Doctor Who's spaceship (Noah loved 'Doctor Who'): it looked smaller from the outside than it was on the inside. The garage looked nothing like those Noah had been in before. In school, Noah and Nicolas used to hang out in his father's garage. They would assemble models of planes, or, if there were more kids wanting to hang out (though, most of the time, they were happy just being alone together), they would play Dungeons and Dragons. It was a pity that life split them apart around the country. It was a pity that they grew up and could never play D&D anymore, at least because the game would probably seem boring right now. However, Noah wouldn't mind throwing a dice right now and hearing from the host what he had to do next, since he didn't know the answer himself. Nicolas' stories were always rather savage. That's why they were so interesting. The game could last twelve hours straight. Though if anyone wanted to interrupt them—for example, Nicolas' mom, who would call them to have dinner, or Nicole, asking them to leave the garage so that she could work on her project—Nicolas would get extremely angry and tell everyone they could go to hell. Good old times.
The garage of Nicolas and Nicole's father looked more like a dumpster, where you could only clean an old table to play board games. The stuff around them, thanks to children's imagination, would turn into a stash of treasures that would help them dive into their world of fantasies. Noah loved that place, that game, and that time. However, he still liked Ethan's garage more. It was spacious. It was clean. And it was designed to fit more than just one car.
Noah wasn't a fan of cars. He knew popular brands and could define, just like the majority of people, whether the car was expensive or not. This skill was enough to understand that these cars cost at least a fortune. The real fortune, not some fictional one, like in the garage of Nicolas' father. There were several cars, and all of them looked expensive. Really expensive. Unbelievably expensive!
"What a beautiful one!" Noah couldn't handle his admiration, getting out of Ethan's car and looking at the car standing next to it. The flowing lines and specific pieces made it clear that it was definitely a sports car. The speed in the metallic shape. The real masterpiece of the car industry. Noah's hands were itching to touch that black, matted automotive coating.
"You can touch it if you want to," Ethan said.
"Oh, no, what if your father doesn't like that someone's touching his car here?" Noah refused.
"This car is mine," Thomson notified. Noah froze, processing the information. If he told anyone that he fell in love with an unbelievably rich guy, he would definitely be called a gold digger. Why couldn't Ethan be as poor as Noah? There wouldn't be such a huge chasm between them.
"Your…" Noah choked on air, trying to pronounce the same sentence in the interrogative form. "Then whose one's this?" Morgan pointed at the car they came here in.
"My father's."
"And what about those two?" Noah looked inside the garage.
"Also his."
"As far as I understand, he didn't go to work by scooter, did he?"
Ethan nodded.
"Why do you use your dad's car if you have such a beautiful one here?" Noah decided to look at the situation from a different perspective. Maybe it was just beautiful on the outside but actually broken. To be honest, Ethan wouldn't immediately turn into a pathetic, desperate-for-money hobo after hearing something similar to that. Though, Morgan would definitely feel a little bit more relieved.
"I think mine is a little…hm…showy," unfortunately, Ethan didn't give the answer Noah had desperately hoped for.
"Sure, Mercedes-Benz is a whole other deal. It doesn't look showy at all, since you can buy it with your pocket money," Noah grumbled; however, he still put his hand on the sports car's hood. The surface felt smooth and cold. When Noah took his hand back, surprisingly, there was a red mark left on it. Morgan looked at Ethan, panicking and waiting for him to scream at Noah that he had ruined everything and now had to pay for the car for the rest of his life, but Thomson just shrugged his shoulders carelessly.
"Thermochromic ink," he explained, "It reacts to differences in temperature. The car's black when it's chilly. When it's hot outside, the car turns red."
"Wow…Wow! Wow!!! And if I press my face against it, then will there be a mark left?"
"You can try if you wa—
Ethan didn't have time to finish the phrase; Noah had already pressed his face against the car's hood and froze for a couple of seconds. The surface changed from black to red where there was Noah's forehead, nose, cheeks, and chin. The mark looked eerie. You could take a picture of it and sell it to horror movies' directors. Noah was truly happy for two solid seconds. However, he started to understand how he must have looked from the side. Well… If Noah had at least one chance in a million for Ethan to like him, he trod it into the ground at that moment. Or, more clearly, he smudged it across the car's hood with his face.
"I know I look like an idiot, but I've never seen it before in my entire life," Morgan tried to justify himself, even though Ethan never asked him to.
"That's okay, I don't mind. Have fun," Thomson let him graciously, "Well, you have the face now. I think next should be your butt. Will you pay me an honor?" Ethan suggested it casually. Morgan turned red.
"I think we're good with no butts," Noah grumbled, "Sometimes I can't understand whether you're joking or you're mad," he admitted.
Instead of answering, Ethan stood in front of the bonnet and touched the matted surface with his fingertips. His eyes darkened for a second, as if he saw something inaccessible to Noah.
"Neither," Thomson said after a short pause, and he headed rapidly towards the exit from the garage. Noah promised himself that, when occasion offers, he would suggest Ethan create and carry around with him tablets, saying something like 'joking', 'mad', 'feeling something you can't get.' Noah would be so happy to use 'Devil's Eye' right now. Why, why would it stop working as soon as Morgan started creating some warm feelings towards a person? Was it some mental defense? Was it mocking him? Or maybe the universe thought that Noah had to go through the same mistakes as all the rest did because staying away from mistakes could be considered cheating?
It was unbelievably quiet in the house. Noah wasn't used to that silence, at least because his upstairs neighbor would sometimes torture his violin for the whole day while at the same time torturing half of the tenants. In the morning, stray cats would constantly be meowing, and birds would be singing. In the evening, for example, the streets hummed with the sounds of life. You can't forget about Fluffy and Peanut, who would sometimes start a race around the flat, sharpen their claws, or crunch on their food. Besides, Fluffy loved to fight the toilet paper in the night, while Peanut snored or meowed in his sleep. All in all, Noah could only dream about silence. On the contrary, silence occupied Ethan's house. The sounds of the city couldn't reach this place. There were no neighbors nearby. There was even no sight of any pets. Noah tried to imagine how he would feel if he lived here. It must be so sad. It seemed that you were taken away from the rest of the world. And if you needed help, no one would help you.
"It's so quiet," Noah couldn't help but comment.
"That's because we're alone here," Ethan answered.
Alone…
"Would you like some tea or coffee?"
Noah nodded. While Ethan was easily operating the coffee machine, Morgan couldn't stop looking around. The kitchen looked like it was copied from some home design magazine cover. It was pretty, but it was kind of…empty. It wasn't cozy. There was no soul in this place. There were no dishes laying somewhere they shouldn't belong. There were no homemade cookies in a deep bowl in the middle of the table. Even towels were hanging right in their designated places, pressed and folded so carefully that they almost seemed fake.
Noah couldn't resist the urge to touch one of the towels. It felt extremely soft.
"What are you doing?" Ethan placed a cup in front of Noah. After taking his mask off, he sipped on the other cup himself.
"Don't think I'm crazy or something," Noah asked, letting the towel go. "This kitchen looks so good that it feels fake. That's why I…"
"Feels uninviting, right?" Ethan asked with understanding.
"Feels rather unusual," Noah tried to sound more politely, "My house has always been a mess, so this cleanliness and strict order affect me negatively."
"Me, too," Ethan agreed surprisingly for Noah, "It used to be different before. Audrey would always leave crumbles and dirty plates after eating. It always smelled nice because my mom used to always cook something. And if my father decided to be surprisingly in charge of breakfast, his second surprise was always a huge kitchen mess. Now, though, special people come here and do all the cleaning. The food is cooked by a private chef who comes here several times a week. And yes, this stupid towel always looks so perfect that it seems illegal to touch it, not to mention wiping your hands or drying the dishes with it."
"I've never thought that luxury could sound so sad," Noah mumbled, finishing his cup of coffee in two sips. It was tasty. Way too tasty.
"That's how it usually sounds, though, to be honest."
Ethan put empty cups in the washing machine and asked Noah to follow him with the gesture. It was the moment. Morgan would soon find out about Ethan's hobby—even though shooting seemed to suit Thomson more—and he couldn't even imagine what else could possibly interest Ethan. Maybe he was collecting knives? Or expensive watches? It was too stereotypical. Just wealth and violence. What if Ethan was a fan of puzzles? What if dark, constantly saying acid things Ethan actually loved doing puzzles with pictures of cats? Though he didn't seem to show any interest in Noah's cats. Maybe he was a dog person? Then with puppies. Ethan doing puzzles with pictures of puppies; it sounded weird, if not perversely.
No, there should be something a bit more exotic to suit Ethan. Spiders. Scorpions. Or snakes. What if Thomson has snakes? Then Noah would run away immediately with the speed of light and break a world record for the fastest escape ever.
Ethan's room was on the second floor. Here, just as in the kitchen, living room, and staircase that Noah had already seen, the house continued to create an impression of an impervious, alienating and cold beauty with no sight of hearth and home. Ethan opened the door to the room and entered it first. Noah followed him with a slight shiver, looking around for some signs of snakes. There was no serpentarium. There was no sign of puzzles, knives, or watches, either. However, what stood out was an enormous bed. It was just a perfect piece of furniture that Noah felt embarrassed to look at. The bed didn't seem just big. It was gigantic. And you could do anything you wanted on it. In any position.
Noah looked aside and stared at something that raised even more emotions. There was a picture hanging against the bed. The one that Noah gave Ethan as a present. It looked different in an expensive frame. Way more presentably.
"Oh, my God, you really hanged it," Noah sounded surprised.
"Of course. Did you think I took it as a tactful gesture?" Ethan grunted.
"No, but…" Noah turned to look at the bed and then stared at the picture again. "Don't you feel pressure by looking at it every day?"
"I don't, why?"
"It seems doomy to me. Every time I looked at it, I felt anxious."
"That's the deal," Ethan affirmed instead of arguing, "No matter how long you look at it, it always causes emotions. That's why it's so good, and that's what makes an artist different from a mediocre one. You need to have emotions in the painting. There should be depth, hidden from inattentive eyes but obvious to an art lover. These aren't just paint and a canvas. There's a whole history behind it."
"Yeah, but, in this case, emotions are apparently negative," Noah noticed.
"That doesn't matter," Ethan said, shaking his head and going deeper inside the room, "My hobby, by the way, can also cause ambiguous emotions; that's why I don't usually expatiate upon it."
Ethan wasn't truly fair. Even if his hobby was considered the most basic one, he still wouldn't say much about it.
At first, Noah decided that Ethan could sew clothes and even started thinking over a speech about how valuable designers nowadays are. However, when he came closer and looked at two mannequins (male and female) standing in the darkest and farthest corner of the room, he understood that there was nothing about clothes. Mannequins weren't covered with fabric, as Morgan had thought at first, but with tied ropes. There was also a table screwed onto the wall with numerous hangers. Each hanger had ropes of different widths, lengths, and colors.
Probably Noah was staring at the table for too long, since Ethan began to explain:
"Did you know that fine motor skills can calm down your mind?" he asked a rhetorical question. "My doctor told me about it after noticing that I need to fidget with something in my hands all the time. I could fidget, mash, tear and tie things for hours. My mom had an expensive scarf with tassels hanging from it. I could sit with it for hours, trying to tie and untie it. That's the way my mind deals with pressure and stress."
"Those things don't look like tassels," Noah nodded at the mannequins, smiling, "It looks way more complex."
"I'm explaining how it started," Ethan frowned, "And everything started with those tassels. Then, some time later, after researching some similar approaches, I once bumped into some pictures with similar knots online. Of course, I was curious. These knots came from binding prisoners of war. I can't recall the name now; it's Japanese. Anyway, the point is that, back in the day, this way of binding prisoners and criminals was used in Japan. Nowadays, these people would've been called client-friendly since every binding pattern would be created according to the person's physique, status, clothing characteristics and skills. Different methods of binding were created for different social classes. And, of course, a person's gender would be taken into account as well.
"What a thorough approach."
"Japanese are thorough about many things," Ethan mentioned, "Firstly, I researched those bindings that Japanese police used before. And then I started going through the esthetic part of that topic."
"So, it means..." Noah was trying to find the right words, "...that your hobby is binding people?"
"My hobby is to create something…hm…beautiful out of the ropes and knots."
"I used to make friendship bracelets. Back in high school," Noah said out of the blue, "However, binding people is, well…way cooler. If it's done willingly. Willingly, right?"
It seemed that Ethan smiled.
"I've never made bindings on real people. Just John Doe and Jane Doe here," he said, pointing at the mannequins.
It sounded even more creepy.
"Why do you call them the same way people call unknown patients at the hospital?" Morgan asked an off-topic question.
"Because those names aren't used just for that," Ethan sighed, taking one of the ropes from the hanger and starting to play with it. "John Doe is an old legal term that was used in cases where the real complainant is unknown or chooses to remain incognito. The unknown respondent used to be called Rihard Roe. Only after that did this first name begin to be used to refer to patients with, for instance, amnesia or unknown bodies. If a female body is mentioned in a legal action, her name is Jane Doe, while family members are called James Doe and Judie Doe. And so on."
"You're like a treasure stash full of information," Noa noticed, "Even the names of mannequins are connected with legal studies."
"It's called hyperfixation," Thomson chuckled.
"And this…" Noah pointed at the ropes, "is also your hyperfixation?"
"Sort of."
It would've been dumb not to use such an opportunity. How is it better to ask Ethan about it?
"Can you really learn how to bind people if you've never done it before?" Noah tried to look extremely confused, "Mannequins hands and legs don't bend like humans'."
"Yes, unfortunately, the majority of bondages I know only in theory, because I don't have a human model."
You'll have one.
"Hey, by the way, do you remember telling me that I have to think to myself how to make it up to you when I thought of you one-sidedly after assuming that leisure life with now ambitions and goals would suit you?"
"Yes, and…?"
"I think I got something! You can use me to practice. Unlike mannequins, my hands bend just fine!"
Noah thought that this idea seemed rational until he said it out loud. Even the mask couldn't hide how confused Ethan was. It seemed that he wasn't ready for that kind of proposal. Morgan wasn't quite sure what was wrong with what he had said. These are just ropes. This is just a bondage. Like making a friendship bracelet, but using a human for that. However, Thomson looked purely shocked.
"You…" Ethan could barely speak, "...you have no clue what it is, don't you?"
"What do you mean?" Noah didn't seem to understand.
Ethan stared at Morgan for an inexcusably long time.
"Okay," he said finally, "I'll practice with your hands. But don't complain afterwards. You were the one who suggested it in the first place."
'You were the one who suggested it,' sounded kind of suspicious.
5' 3"
Ethan wasn't going to...
He didn't plan to...
He couldn't even imagine that he would get such an opportunity. At least so soon. And especially with Morgan. The only thing he hoped for was Noah's adequate reaction. 'Everyone can have their hobbies!' — that was what he hoped for, and it would be the best reaction for Thomson. Ethan didn't think that his future partner had to share the same hobbies as him. Ethan didn't even need some extra support. Understanding would've been more than enough. Well… He got the understanding he needed and pure interest as a bonus.
"Sit down on the bed," Ethan asked, still looking at his rope collection. All of them were ready to be used; they were already boiled, singed, and waxed. Ethan treated his ropes just to know how to do it. He could never dream that his thoroughness would be so handy.
Ethan chose a classic, soft jute rope for Morgan. Ethan didn't like artificial fabrics in general, since it was easy to deform them. He decided not to get them for his collection. There were two plaited ropes, though. However, while he was treating them, Thomson understood that they weren't the best option. Morgan wasn't ready for hard ropes, and Ethan doubted whether he would ever be. However, who said he wouldn't like it?
Morgan sat down shyly on the edge of Thomson's bed, looking far more embarrassed by this action than by the fact that his hands would be tied up in a minute. What blessed innocence!
"Would you mind taking your shirt off?" Ethan asked while taking his hoodie off. It was going to get hot in the room.
"Is it necessary?" Noah's voice sounded unsure. He was wearing one of his Japanese shirts with wide sleeves. It would be even cooler to make a bondage on top of it; however, there were two things that were stopping Ethan. First of all, he had no experience in this bondage, which meant it was important to get rid of anything that could distract Ehtan. Secondly, Noah's shirt was probably synthetic, and Ethan assumed that synthetic fabric would do no good to sensitive skin while tied together with a rope.
"Yes, it is," Ethan affirmed, getting rid of his black fingerless leather gloves and putting on black latex ones. They gave a way better level of sensitivity and a good grip on objects or the ends of the rope, which was far more important.
Thomson grabbed the rope and looked in the mirror at his reflection, which was hanging near the entrance of the room. A black mask. A black t-shirt. Black gloves. And a black rope. He had seen a porn movie that started the same way.
Noah took off his shirt and was sitting with his white t-shirt, which had a picture of a tiger with its mouth open. Ethan thought that this print didn't suit Noah. Instead of a tiger, there should've been a rabbit, a hamster, or, at least, a cat in a funny cat.
Ethan climbed on the bed and sat behind Noah with his legs crossed.
"You won't even need a tutorial?" Morgan felt awkward and tried to hide it behind the small talk. As usual.
"I've already memorized this bondage. It's not difficult," Ethan answered, looking more closely. "Flex your shoulders and stretch them several times."
"Why?"
"So that your muscles and tendons won't get injured. If you wanted to do a trick, you would want to stretch a bit first, right? The same thing works here," Ethan explained. Morgan started stretching awkwardly. "And let's get it straight: if you feel uncomfortable, you tell me immediately, okay?"
"Will it hurt?" Morgan sounded anxious, bending his arms behind his back.
"It won't. If I do everything right, it shouldn't hurt. The rope is soft enough, and I won't tie you more than it should be done. In this case, I mean more mental discomfort, not physical one," Ethan folded the rope in half, and then wrapped it around Noah's shoulders, above the elbows. Then he put the free ends of the rope inside a loop, created after folding it before, and knotted the string. Noah's hands were quite flexible. However, he still should've felt some pressure.
"Ouch," Morgan said.
"Does it hurt?" Ethan sounded worried.
"No. I do feel muscles, but it's not bad."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," Noah affirmed, "Why is it even therapeutic, as you said?"
It was weird that Morgan wasn't into that subject, considering his love for Japanese art. Even if you want to assume that all he studied was art, he couldn't just pass by the paintings illustrating shibari. Or could he? Was he aware of what they were doing with Ethan in the room at that moment? No matter what the answer would be, Ethan was way more worried that something could scare Noah. He had to do everything slowly and carefully. It was really difficult for Ethan to control himself. His hands were shaking.
"Haven't you heard about shibari?" Thomson asked, surprised.
"It sounds familiar, but..." Noah was facing his back, but Thomson could've sworn Morgan was frowning, trying to find the thing that he was missing.
"Firstly, I have to mention that it's originally aesthetic-erotic art," Ethan tried to boost Noah's memory, wrapping Morgan's hands in the direction of his shoulders. It turned out to be more difficult than he thought it would be. One of the important things in this process was to maintain the same pressure while wrapping the rope quickly around the hands because, at the moment, the knot was supposed to be pressing on Noah's elbow nerves. Ethan didn't want this unpleasant episode to last; however, this rush ended up being a failure. It also didn't work out because of Noah, who would tense up as soon as he heard the word 'erotic'.
"I had no idea," Morgan mumbled.
Liar.
"If, after these comments, you suddenly understood that you don't want to be a model for me, we can stop right now," Ethan said reluctantly. He would happily continue, but not if his actions were considered torturing in Noah's opinion.
"N-no, that's okay. There was nothing special about it!"
There was a lot of special about it.
"There are other important details besides erotic," it would be unfair to hide something from Morgan. Ethan felt something close to joy when telling the truth to Morgan.
The second try of bondage was way more successful. Thomson put the rope through the 'reverse clearance' of a previously tied knot, strained the rope up to the limit and wrapped it around Morgan's elbows, fixing the whole structure.
"Like, for example?"
"This practice is considered to be spiritually meditative. However, those who didn't dive into the subject mistake shibari for exotic foreplay and nothing more. However, the action itself is self-sufficient and self inclusive. Apparently, sex is only a bonus here. This art is way deeper, and it's not dedicated to satisfying your primitive needs. First and foremost, shibari lets you feel 'here and now'. I'm concentrated on the knots and ties, and you're concentrated on my actions. And there is nothing besides Here and Now that we should be worried about. It's a good time to dive into self-awareness and analyze your fears, wishes and insults.
Ethan chooses a place a bit underneath Noah's elbow, intending to begin a bondage called 'stairs' on the Internet. After securing a rope with the index finger of his left hand, he began binding Noah's hands, repeating previous actions.
"Sounds interesting," Morgan's voice sounded husky, as if he was answering automatically, fully taken away by Thomson's story.
"Not everyone would share the same opinion with you. There should be no high drama in shibari. You can't get any extreme emotions from it, and the rope, if everything was done right, isn't supposed to hurt you. Many people think of this practice only from an esthetic point of view, while ignoring its sensuality and emotional potential," after wrapping the rope around Noah's hands, Ethan put the rope ends into the loop and continued lower to repeat it again. "First shibari's effect is about feeling the rope on your body. You feel its texture, lines and slight pressure of knots. So that you kind of get to know your body all over again: you define its shape, concentrating on it like you've never done before. Are you concentrating right now?" Ethan asked, making sure that Morgan was listening.
"Y-yes, I'm concentrating."
"Good. The second point is about limiting human's ability to move with a bondage. Right now, I'm putting you in the stage of physical disability. The more knots I make, the more vulnerable you become. Right now, there's sort of an unspoken agreement between us. Erotism with no erotism, if you wish. It's not recommended to practice shibari with a person you don't know well, since trust is of major importance here.
Ethan reached Morgan's wrists, wrapped the rope around the central vertical knot and secured the ends. Everything was done.
"How are you feeling?"
"It's okay," Morgan's voice sounded even lower, which made Ethan have goosebumps.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes."
"Can I take some pictures?"
Noah nodded slightly. Ethan got up from the bed, reached the shelf with an old Polaroid camera on it, and took several pictures. After leaving the photos to develop, he sat down near Noah and looked into his scarlet face.
"How are you feeling?"
"Weird."
"Does it hurt?"
"I guess…not. I don't know. I can feel my muscles stretching."
"Well…" Ethan drummed his fingers on his knee, staring at Noah. Morgan noticed it but felt too shy to look in his direction.
"And…Uh… How long do I need to sit like that?" he asked.
"How long would you want to sit like that?"
"Well…I…"
"You owe me a wish, did you forget?" Ethan understood that Noah couldn't say what he was thinking out loud. Even if he liked it just a little bit. Especially if he liked it. That's why Thomson decided to help him, "If you sit like that for fifteen minutes, I'll forget about the debt."
"Why do you need it?" Morgan finally looked Ethan in the eye.
"Curiosity. Everything I've told you here I looked up online. But in reality, I've never seen or felt anything like this before. I want to find out how true this information is."
And I also want to see how your reaction's changing.
"S-sure, no problem, why not," Noah mumbled.
Good boy.