5' 3"
Ethan parked his car in the garage and had been sitting inside the car for about an hour already. He was holding onto the steering wheel and trying to hold the emotions that were trying to burst out. The emotions of that day were just way too overwhelming for Thomson; his body kept shaking because of them. His head was about to explode because of the thoughts swirling inside. He could feel something negative and then, almost immediately, something positive. This row of feelings and emotions was turning into something unbearable and unclear. He wanted to cry. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. And he wanted to remain silent, all at the same time. The present was replacing the past. The past was crossing out the future. And the future was putting pressure on the present. These way too stressful experiences were striking a chord in his soul. Every heartbeat sounded like a hammer, blacking out the sounds that were surrounding him. Besides, it was getting more and more difficult to breathe through the wet mask.
After he calmed down a bit, Ethan let himself step outside the car and enter the house; his legs stiffened. Michael Thomson was sitting in the kitchen, sipping his cardamom tea while looking through some work-related papers. He continued reading them even when he heard Ethan come home and asked matter-of-factly:
"You're late. Is everything okay?"
"Why bother asking me if Duncan has already told you everything, huh?" Thomson said irritably. Thomson said irritatedly. The presence of his bodyguard didn't go unnoticed for him. If Ethan was in a better mood, he wouldn't mind coming up to Duncan, as he did back near Morgan's house, and asking him a thing or two.
"Smith isn't into psychology to judge a person's condition just by glancing at them. You're a tough one, Ethan. It's impossible to tell what you are thinking about at the moment. If I, your father, have trouble guessing your mood, what do you expect from the others?"
Fair thought.
Ethan wanted to go upstairs to his room and lock himself there for at least a week, but he made an effort and stayed. Instead of running away, the guy chose to sit down on a chair against his father and drum with his index finger nervously on the table, trying to drag his parent's attention. He didn't want to share his thoughts, neither with Michael nor with anyone else, but Ethan knew well that he just couldn't remain silent any longer.
"Morgan told me about his feelings," Thomson said under breath. He was staring at the counter top. He didn't want to witness the smile that was probably already beaming on his father's face.
"Which had already been something obvious for you," Michael nodded, still not paying full attention to his son. You could hear that damn smile in his voice.
"It had been, yes. However, I didn't think he would tell me. Not so fast, at least!" Ethan exclaimed, letting loose of his emotions for a second.
"Not all people want to hide their feelings, like you do. As far as I understood, your Morgan's quiet, open-hearted," Michael answered smoothly.
"He's not mine," Ethan reacted harshly.
"Yet," Michael added.
"I'm disgusted by this term."
"You are? Why?"
"He's not a toy to be my property," Ethan uttered.
"Oh my goodness, this teenage idealism again," Michael rolled his eyes, "Why does your generation take things at face value and think of words so much?" he asked a rhetorical question, finally taking his eyes off the documents and setting his tablet aside. "If I had had to become a toy to be a property of your mother, I would have given away everything to be hers entirely. And, FYI, I've never felt myself as someone's toy, since it has nothing to do with the toys. I loved and I was loved. That's the kind of property I'm talking about. Do you feel the difference?"
"Whatever," Ethan waved off, understanding that his father was the only person in the whole universe who was right in eighty percent of their arguments with Thomson.
"Whatever? Hm, how wise," Michael mumbled, but decided not to continue with the argument.
Ethan was silent. Michael was drinking his tea, waiting patiently for his son to get ready to continue their conversation.
"What should I do?" Ethan asked after several minutes.
"Do you like him?"
"It's a stupid question; you know well that I—
"It doesn't matter whether I know something or not. I want to hear the answer from you right here, right now."
"I like him."
Michael nodded, satisfied.
"And he likes you. Do you really have some questions about what to do?"
"I can't—
"You can."
"It'll be tough for him."
"So what?"
"I don't want to screw his life."
"Then don't."
"Dad!" Ethan exclaimed irritatedly.
"Son?" Michael asked calmly.
"Everything's just so easy, according to you!"
"Because everything's easy, and it's wonderful."
Ethan frowned, feeling that his dad was winning it again.
"I can't date him while I'm still hiding something from him," Thomson said, trying to be particular in his speech.
"Then don't hide anything."
In the heat of the moment, Ethan threw his father's tea cup on the floor. The sound of breaking glass filled the room. The light-gray floor had a tea stain with broken pieces of the cup covering it. Michael turned no hair. His son's tantrums weren't surprising for him.
"So, you mean that I need to... How am I going to do it?"
"With your mouth, generally," Michael said, sighing, "you just open your mouth and tell him."
"But—
"There's no 'but', Ethan. You go and tell him everything, for God's sake!" Michael lost his temper. After all, Ethan took his short temper after his father. Due to his age, Thomson-senior had it under control, though, his son was the only person who could pierce his armor of equanimity.
"It's my dirty laundry! What if someone found—
"Do you trust Morgan?"
"I do."
"Then what's the problem?"
"Shouldn't you be the one to tell me that I should never ever tell anyone about my past? This information could destroy my career before it even begins!"
"Screw the career!" Thomson-senior, who had just taken the tablet back in his hands, smashed it on the table, and its screen even cracked. "What kind of parent do I need to be to prefer a good career for my son instead of a good relationship?! I know you're ambitious. However, there's no way a career can replace a real person by your side! I'm telling you all that from my personal experience!"
Michael suddenly became silent and sighed deeply, trying to regain his composure, while Ethan was thinking over something.
"So, should I tell him?"
"You need to be the one to make the decision, Ethan."
"I'm just trying to provide for all contingencies. If he tells anyone—
"I'm asking you once again. Do you trust him?"
"I'm trying."
"Is he capable of spreading rumors?"
"No, he's not. But if we break up, then..."
"Is he one of those people who try blackmailing their exes?"
"No," Ethan answered, after thinking over it for a bit. Michael made a helpless gesture with his face, saying, 'Then what's your problem?'
"But wh...what do I tell him?"
"The truth, Ethan. The truth, and nothing but the truth."
5' 8"-5' 9"
Andrea never got his message, so Noah, desperate, risked calling Scott. Thanks a lot, the friend chose not to say anything like 'I told you so' and kept it for a better occasion. Instead, he had spent the whole evening making theories about why Ethan behaved that way.
"What if he wanted to park his car? Then he asked you to get out of the car with a thought of coming back later?" one of Scott's versions made Noah laugh nervously.
"No way," Morgan said and then ran to the peephole to make sure Ethan wasn't standing in the corridor like an orphan. He checked the front door, too. And even the cafe nearby. No, the parking theory wasn't the reason for his behavior.
Noah and Scott had talked till the late evening. Morgan settled his nerves a bit. Okay, he was dumped. So what? It wasn't the end of the world. Ethan wasn't the first guy Noah had had a crush on. He definitely wasn't the first one to turn Morgan down. Noah would certainly fall in love multiple times after Thomson. He would also probably be turned down multiple times... There was nothing special about Ethan, to be honest! Just an average guy!
No, it was a lie.
Thomson was anything but an average guy.
If Noah's previous crushes could be grouped by some characteristics, then Ethan just didn't fit neither by his appearance nor by the character.
Noah preferred taller guys. Of course, he was trying to protect Ethan's height while talking to his mom, telling her that it didn't matter at all. To be honest, it really didn't matter to him. However, before meeting Thomson Morgan was into guys at least a head taller than him. Noah preferred brunettes. All his previous love interests had dark hair. Thomson remained blonde. Noah preferred calm, tactful and soft guys. At least, from the first sight, they all seemed to have those character traits. As well as Matthew. Ethan was completely the opposite. Even when his voice sounded calm and no muscle in his face moved, only a complete idiot with no sense of empathy whatsoever couldn't spot pressure and aggression in the words he was saying. Noah didn't have the heart to call Ethan tactful. Remembering what he had said to the woman from the retirement home was more than enough. These disrespectfulness and straight boldness gave Noah chills. And, of course, it was impossible to call Ethan soft. Well, if concrete or asphalt was soft, then yes. That was exactly how soft he was.
Taking into account Noah's usual preferences, it was easy for Morgan to tell that this crush was different from the others. Besides, it would probably be more difficult to get over it, too.
Noah fell asleep after the sunrise had illuminated the horizon. Several hours later, he woke up feeling like he had been fighting on the squared ring and not actually just crying his eyes out for the whole night. Moisturizing eye drops didn't help his red eyes, and double espresso didn't fix his alarming condition. While Noah was getting ready to visit his grandmother, Peanut, that was lying down in the middle of the flat, was grooming his back demonstratively since it had been completely soaked in tears the night before.
Meeting his grandmother distracted Noah from his thoughts about Ethan for some time by focusing again on his relative's bad physical and mental conditions. The retirement home workers were trying to assure him that everything was fine, however, Noah was still worried. In the evening, his mother called him. That time she somehow managed to upset Noah not once, as she usually did while talking about grandma, but twice, because she started to ask questions about Ethan. Noah didn't want to tell her that he got turned down, so he changed the subject as fast as possible by telling her that he was worn out and was about to go to bed.
On Sunday, unexpectedly, Morgan was full of fight. The fact that Ethan didn't like him didn't mean that they had to stop talking! Anyway, it was Noah's problem, not Ethan's. They could be friends, right? Noaho doubted Ethan would reject him since they did quite well in quality chat. Thomson wouldn't be afraid of Noah trying to hit on him, would he? Ethan did understand that Morgan wasn't capable of it, didn't he? What if Ethan thought that Noah was dangerous? No way. Nonsense. Noah just needed to explain to Ethan that he was okay and he was ready to be happy with what he had left without crossing the line. He needed to tell it as soon as possible. He should call or text him.
Noah was staring at his phone till late at night, not having the guts to put his plan into action. After all, he fell asleep thinking how necessary it was to talk things out with Ethan. That was why, probably, Morgan was having nightmares with similar scenarios. Ethan was a part of every one of them. No matter how the setting and scenes changed, every nightmare ended with Thomson saying no.
On Monday, the last thing Noah wanted was leaving the house. Especially going to the university. Moreover, when there was even the slightest chance to bump into Ethan. Morgan even considered skipping. However, he was too responsible, so he got up and made himself go to classes. For nothing, as it turned out. Noah heard professors but didn't listen to them. No matter how hard he tried to focus, it didn't work. Instead of taking notes, his hand was sketching Ethan in different scenes. Here was frowning Ethan. Then there was smiling Ethan. Ethan was examining his shampoo ingredients (Noah had no idea why this picture appeared in his head. It just appeared). Ethan was standing with a shopping basket. Ethan was smoking. Ethan was holding bondage ropes. Ethan was wearing a black suit for a funeral. Ethan, Ethan, Ethan.
Noah felt extremely worn out and hoped that lunch break would fix his problems. He was wrong.
Morgan made an arrangement to meet Scott in the cafeteria. His friend was indeed waiting for Noah at the time and place fixed. However, he wasn't alone. On the right side from him was Nicole. She was studying something, like there was no tension in the air coming from the other person sitting at the table. It was Rufus. He was sitting right against Scott with his arms crossed, examining him attentively. Ethan was sitting on the right-hand side from Hughes. Noah felt completely puzzled. Thomson had told him that they didn't get on well with Hughes. Had they just become friends because they both hated Noah now? Ethan didn't hate Morgan for his feelings for him, did he? Right?
Noah came closer to this weird group, making a huge effort not to run away. He had this urge to get away from Hughes, Scott, Nicole, and, of course, Ethan. Especially away from Ethan. However, he couldn't let himself leave his friend alone with these people.
"H-hey. What's going on here?" Noah asked, stuttering. He looked at the table, deciding where he should sit. There were only two places available: either near Rufus or against Ethan. He didn't want to sit with Hughes. On the contrary, he did want to sit closer to Ethan, even though Noah was afraid that Thomson had no good intentions. He thought that way because he was accompanied by a person who had been bullying Noah for several years.
"Hello," Ethan answered casually, looking at Noah. Despite Morgan's being so cautious, Ethan didn't try to look away or somehow else express his disgust towards Noah. "Here, take a seat," he said, looking at the seat in front of him, then he moved there a plate with several buns and a coffee cup from the expensive vending machine.
Noah didn't move. What was going on? Was it a joke? Was he mocking him? Was there a hidden camera somewhere? What were they trying to do?
"What's he doing here?" Noah looked at Rufus, hesitating to accept Thomson's invitation to sit down. He should've asked about Ethan as well, but Noah was too excited to see him.
"He's trying to help," Ethan answered calmly.
"Who?"
"You."
"And how's it going so far? Any luck?" Morgan couldn't resist being sarcastic for a moment.
"That's what we're about to find out."
"I doubt it," Noah frowned. Hughes was helping him? It seemed delusional.
"Sit down," Ethan pointed at the seat in front of him again. Morgan gave him a sepulchral look. "Please," Thomson changed his tone from demanding to soft one, understanding the mistake he had just made. It worked immediately. Noah sighed and sat down in front of Ethan. He promised himself that he wouldn't touch neither pastry nor coffee, however, as soon as the smell of fresh pastry reached his nose, his stomach started rumbling.
"Eat," Ethan looked at food after noticing that Morgan was hesitant again.
"I'm not hungry," Noah lied, even though he understood how pathetic it sounded with stomach rumbling in the background.
"As you wish," Ethan decided not to insist and twisted his coffee cup. "Then let's get back to the question of why Rufus is sitting here with us," he said. "He volunteered to help us find a person who's responsible for rumors about you."
"You're lying," Scott reacted immediately, "Hughes has been torturing Noah for two solid years. Why would he do that right now?"
"Because he's trying to impress my sister by helping me," Ethan answered without skipping a beat. The expression of insult appeared on Rufus' face.
"That's not true!" the complaint sounded fake.
"That's true," Ethan said, "How about you grow your childlike complaints after we do the business? Personally, I don't care about your motives. I care about the result," Thomson stated. "Rufus offered help, and I didn't find any reasons to turn it down. He was supposed to talk with that bitch who took pictures of Morgan holding that stupid cup."
"Don't call her like that..." Noah mumbled.
"Excuse me?" Ethan raised his eyebrows, showing his confusion.
"She has a name. Don't call her a bitch," Noah said.
"Oh really? A name? Does that stupid animal have a name? Interesting. What's her name then?"
"I didn't ask, but..."
"But what?"
Noah frowned. So did Ethan. They were staring at each other, both understanding that the problem wasn't about Thomson's naming. The reason for their conflict was different.
"Nothing," Morgan grunted, taking a bite of a bun before he realized that he had already opened the package. Well. If the first bite was taken, then he should finish it. It was better than wasting food.
"May I continue then?" Ethan asked, looking at Noah from underneath his eyebrows.
"Do whatever you want," Noah grunted.
"What if I want the same thing as you do?" Ethan noticed. Noah choked on the bun. Scott said something through his teeth. Nicole continued studying, looking completely clueless about what was about to happen.
"Jesus Christ..." Rufus rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Is there a problem?" Ethan turned towards him suddenly.
"No," he mumbled.
"Wonderful," Thomson said acidly, "So what did you find out from the animal I'm not allowed to call a bitch? How did the girl get paid for being a social whore?"
Noah kept his ears open unconsciously.
"They left the money in the library of this department. They told her what book to look for. The money was inside."
"What on Earth are these spying games?" Scott asked disbelievingly. He didn't seem to buy a single word coming from Rufus' mouth.
"I love spies, they're badass!" Nicole exclaimed suddenly, taking her eyes off the book, definitely clueless what they had been talking about. "Noah, do you remember playing a spying game when we were little?"
Morgan did remember. Well, they thought they were spying agents after watching way too many James Bond movies; they were jumping on the couch, acting like there was a chase, or sometimes they would spy on their neighbor's dog. None of them hid anything in the books.
Ethan was drumming with his fingers on the table, processing the information.
"What does this information give us?" Noah asked.
"Now we know that your hater goes to this department," Ethan answered.
"Didn't we already know that, considering where the picture was taken? Let me rewind for you, it happened in this cafeteria," Morgan grunted.
"Actually, we can't know it for sure," Nicole stepped in; she sounded curious, "Many students from other faculties attend this cafeteria quite often. For example, just as Ethan does and...uh...what's your name? Rufus?" she pointed at the guys. "And look, nobody cared about it, since it's always so crowded here. However, the library is the whole other deal!" the girl stated. "Only those who study in this building know about the library on the third floor, since it's not the all-faculty library. Mainly, there are books that are meant for only those students who study here in this building. Besides, due to the online library system, not many people actually attend real libraries. Usually, students lend some old books here that haven't been digitized yet. I'm telling you that as a fact, since I also stop by this library once in a while," Nicole lifted the book cover that she had been reading the whole time, showing that it was a quiet used library book. "What I'm trying to say is that there are usually the same faces coming to that place, so if that person was a 'stranger', he would definitely draw attention from the regulars. I can go there on my next break and ask librarians about it. However, there's little hope. I don't think that he, she, or they are so dumb to expose themselves so stupidly."
"It won't hurt to try," Ethan said, "Take my number and share the results later."
"Sure!" Nicole said and started looking for her phone.
Noah was already finishing his third bun, looking at how Ethan and his friend were exchanging numbers. He felt jealous for a second, then he almost immediately felt ashamed and decided to leave.
"Could you also text me as well to tell how things are going, okay?" Noah asked Nicole, ignoring Ethan. "Now, excuse me, but I have to go to my next class."
Noah was lying. There were at least twenty minutes left till his next seminar, and he was supposed to go there together with Scott, who didn't leave his chair. Thankfully, his friend was smart enough to say:
"Can you tell the professor I'll be late? Tell him I ate something bad."
"It'll be your fourth time eating something bad this month!" Noah laughed.
"I got a weak stomach, you know," Scott said, biting a half off of his cheeseburger.
Even the friend's jokes couldn't help with Noah's urge to hide away from dark gray eyes that were burning a hole in Morgan that whole time. After a hurried goodbye, Noah grabbed the rest of the pastry in his backpack and went away. The guy went upstairs to the fourth floor, made himself comfortable on a wide windowsill that students had been using as benches despite the fact it was prohibited, and opened his sketchbook. Noah really wanted to sketch Ethan's eyes at the moment when he said, 'What if I want the same thing as you do?' However, Morgan didn't even have time to start the basics when he got distracted.
"I thought you were rushing to your next class," Ethan said in a calm voice. Noah flinched and dropped his sketchbook on the floor. The old album fell into pieces like a pile of unglued pieces of paper. Thankfully, the corridor, which was full of different drawings of Ethan, was empty. Noah almost cried out in despair and started collecting the papers quickly, having naive hopes that Thomson wouldn't pay attention to the drawings or recognize himself.
"Even though it can be quite easy for me to get pumped because of my height, I don't have such a six-pack. In order to get this result, I'd need to spend day and night working my ass off at the gym," Ethan commented, picking up one of the drawings and examining it curiously.
"Who said it's you?" Noah uttered irritatedly, snatching back the drawing, where Morgan drew Thomson brushing his teeth. He was a kind of shirtless, sleepy, morning boy with disordered hair.
"You. You don't have to tell it; you drew it. And you're good at it. I didn't have trouble recognizing myself."
"I didn't let you look at it," Noah hissed, holding the drawings to his chest.
"And I didn't give you permission to draw me," Thomson answered back.
"It's not you."
"It's me, and, trust me, you look way more stupid trying to persuade me about the opposite thing."
Noah frowned. He didn't have anything else to add; that's why he was going through the sketches, thinking over his runaway options.
"Are you busy tonight?" Ethan asked after he understood that the fight was over.
"I am."
"What are you doing?"
"None of your business."
"What are you doing?" Ethan repeated his question insistently. Noah had a bold idea to make up some plans. For example, he could make up a story that he was supposed to go on a date with some hot football player. However, his hate for lies won, so he had to speak the truth:
"I promised to call my mother tonight."
"When?"
"Around nine."
"Okay, I'll bring you home by nine."
"Where are you taking me?" Noah didn't understand anything.
"You'll see."
"Can you just tell me directly where we are going?"
"I'm telling you that you'll see," Ethan was starting to get mad, "It's quite direct."
"I'm not going anywhere unless you explain yourself. You're describing everything too vaguely."
"Listen, you..." Ethan stuttered, took a deep breath, recollecting himself, and then he continued in a calm tone of voice, "Do you want to start dating or not?"
Noah looked confused.
"Uh...What? I mean... You mean... Is it a proposal?"
"What? What proposal?"
"Dating proposal. Do you like me?"
Ethan frowned, like he had just hit his pinky toe against the corner of the bed, or had just accidentally smelled some hard spices.
"Morgan, are you an idiot?" Ethan was losing his patience again, "It's obvious to everyone that I like you! Even Hughes didn't miss the opportunity to roll his eyes about it."
"Well... So, you mean... Wait... God... Do you really? Really? Then why did you—
Ethan asked Noah to shut up with a gesture.
"So, do you want to date me or not?"
"Me? Y-yes! Of course! You know I like... Well, you know! Of course, I want to be your boyfriend!" Noah rattled, feeling that he would definitely be embarrassed later, trying to remember everything that was happening at the moment.
"Then you need to find out something about me first. Go to the parking lot after your classes. I'll be waiting for you there," Ethan said, turned around and left towards the staircase.
"Did...did I get it right that I need to find out something first, and then we can start... Well, dating?"
Ethan had just taken one step down the stairs.
"That's not for me to decide," he said dryly.
"Then for who?"
Thomson sighed, looked at Noah and left without saying anything.
5' 3"
Ethan was drumming nervously on the steering wheel, feeling his fingertips burning because of this action. He had been waiting for Morgan for half an hour now, and anxious thoughts started appearing in his head. What if Morgan didn't believe him? What if he decided that it was another scam to bully him? If Ethan was Noah, he would never trust anyone after his nasty boyfriend.
Maybe it was for the best? Ethan wouldn't need to tell him about the worst humiliation in his life. He wouldn't need to go through his past in front of the person that he liked. He could've just gone home, laid in his bed and just continued rotting peacefully in his room, thinking about what a nullity he was.
"Hi," Noah plonked onto the passenger seat and shut the door.
Ethan needed a couple of seconds to get back from his dark thoughts to reality and finally answer:
"Hello."
Ethan was happy to see Morgan, but at the same time he knew what was about to happen, so he had already started getting stressed out.
The ride felt even worse than it did when they were going back from the cemetery to Noah's house. Some blues music was playing on the radio. The shadows outside the window were getting longer. This time Morgan didn't turn back to the passenger window but was looking forward; however, he was probably glancing at Ethan with a corner of his eye from time to time. At least, Thomson glanced at Noah while driving and watching the road.
The ride in traffic lasted almost forty minutes. Ethan parked the car near a small church and stepped outside. Noah rushed after him. Thomson walked fast and ignored Morgan's quiet questions. He was trying to focus, feeling himself imprisoned and voluntarily going to his own execution.
There were more people inside the church as usual. A sickly-looking, skinny man had just finished his story. Ethan sat down on the bench, far away from the others. Noah joined him. After the man had left the tribune with a row of applause, a man named Paul approached it. He was almost the only person to remain at every meeting.
"Does anybody else want to share something?" he looked at the audience.
Ethan clenched his arm and forced himself to raise it. Paul's kind, round face showed confusion. Well, sure. Ethan had never shared anything for the past three years, and he always answered 'no' when someone would suggest he do so. He would only come to the tribune to get his next medallion. The last was hanging around Thomson's neck. He would always touch this medallion to remind himself that not all was lost.
"Welcome," Paul nodded, freeing the spot for Ethan. Thomson was afraid to look at Noah and went towards the tribune, stiff-legged. Morgan was sitting in the farthest corner of the room, but Ethan could still feel his confused stare. Thomson felt the medallion on his neck and grabbed it, seeking courage.
"Hello, everyone," he said, sighing. Every word scratched his throat, unwilling to be heard, "My name's Ethan. I'm a drug addict."