5' 8"-5' 9"
"Andrea," Noah called quietly. Carefully, not to touch any garbage piles, he crouched down in front of his friend's bed, and after he tried reaching her with his hand, he changed his mind, since he had no idea how the girl would react to this unexpected touch. What if she gets even more scared? After Ethan appeared in Morgan's life, it made him start thinking about the things he wouldn't have thought about before. "Don't hide, talk to me," he asked her with a calm voice.
He saw some movement under the duvet. His friend shook his head. She didn't want to talk. Noah sighed heavily and regretted it immediately, fighting the new gag reflex. The odor could definitely kick someone off his feet. He couldn't believe Andrea couldn't smell it. It just couldn't be true! Did she get used to it? Or maybe she simply didn't care? That option seemed more likely to be true. Despite all the questions he had for Andrea, his desire to demand some answers from Andrea's mother was a lot bigger. Noah knew that, when Andrea's father left the family, the woman suffered from a severe depression, which made her start neglecting basic chores around the house. She stopped going to work and paying attention to his daughter. Andrea, who studied in middle school around that time, took her mother's responsibility of taking care of the house. She was too young to have even a part-time job, so they were trying to make ends meet by using their savings, trying to cut the expenses on everything. Andrea hadn't brought up that subject often, however, whenever she would, she would speak about those times with a smile. She would always say that, on the bright side, she had been skinnier back then. It was definitely some Dutch comfort. She was skinny just because she didn't eat enough. Being skinny wasn't worth it. However, Noah had never spoken about it with Andrea because he was afraid to reopen old sores. He thought his friend just had some sort of coping mechanism, so she would always find positive sides even in the most terrible situations and focus on them. It always felt cruel to ruin Andrea's illusions, but now that he had seen his girlfriend's condition, Morgan regretted that he hadn't had the guts to bring up the topic after a couple of beers.
Luckily, Andrea's mother managed to recollect herself before family savings ran up. Though soon it was clear that she just substituted one compulsion with another by turning into a workaholic. The woman would systematically stay late at work; she would go to the office even on the weekends and holidays. Her career busted rapidly; there was more than enough money to provide for the family, however… Andrea had never said that, but she probably felt lonely quite often. Scott and Noah did everything they could so Andrea wouldn't feel left out, but of course they couldn't replace her parents (her father never tried reaching out to his daughter after he left the family). Andrea's multiple acquaintances also couldn't do anything about it. Speaking of which, the amount of these people in her life actually highlighted how lonely and empty she actually felt.
The hour hand was slowly reaching seven o'clock. Andrea's mom clearly left to work, where she had already worked the whole day. It was interesting to find out what was so important at the office for her to leave her daughter in this mess. The unpleasant answer was scratching the throat from the inside. On the second floor, there was Andrea's room and her parents' former bedroom. After the divorce, Andrea's mother moved into the downstairs room and left the upstairs bedroom filled with some random, unwanted stuff. Sometimes Noah thought that Andrea was also the part of that unwanted stuff for her mother. The friend had mentioned before how her mother judged her because she looked a lot like her father. That was why Noah would bet a thousand bucks that the woman didn't go upstairs on purpose, so she had no idea what was going on in her daughter's room. Since she was always working, she probably had no clue that Andrea was skipping classes. You could only guess Andrea's condition by the way she looked, but only if you were interested in it, not leaving satisfied after hearing a fake excuse like, 'It's just a cold,' that Andrea had probably been using actively. Or maybe there was no lie needed if the woman was so focused on work that she refused to notice the things happening right in front of her face. Morgan couldn't leave out that option either.
Finally, Noah decided to touch the duvet where his friend's head should have been. Andrea shivered and tried to stagger back, but the wall stopped her.
"Please tell me, what can I do to help you?" Noah begged her quietly.
"Nothing," he heard her muffled voice from under the covers.
"I can probably do something," Noah disagreed.
"You can. You can leave!" Andrea exhaled in a shaking voice. Morgan would do anything right now, but he definitely wouldn't leave his friend at the moment. To prove this, he knocked over a pile of garbage from a pink, ready to be sent to the dry cleaner's hassock, and sat down on it right in front of Andrea.
"Do you think you have depression?"
"No, I'm normal!"
"Nobody says you're not normal. Depression doesn't make you abnormal."
"I don't have a freaking depression!"
Instead of answering, Noah glanced at the nightmare that had been going on in his friend's room. It was shocking. Morgan always thought that in the 21st century there were no people who were too afraid to show that they might have been struggling with some mental conditions because there was so much free, available information, and the society had finally started focusing on tolerance and acceptance. People talked about depression all the time. A lot of them confessed that they either had gone through it in the past or were fighting it in the moment. They said it openly. With no fear. Why was Andrea so stubborn after all? Maybe because she had already seen how severe the illness might be, so now she was terrified of it?
"You didn't go to the doctor, did you?" Noah asked matter-of-factly.
"I'm fine! I just need some time alone, that's all!" Andrea assured in a taut voice.
"Two weeks is way longer than 'some time'," Noah disagreed, hoping that his words wouldn't sound like he was judging her. He was just trying to understand whether his friend was aware of how long she had been in this condition. What if she lost a sense of time while being around all the trash and her own intrusive thoughts?
"Well, maybe it's been a bit longer," Andrea sighed quietly. There was no surprise in her voice, so she hadn't lost her sense of time. It was already something to work with.
Noah had been frantically trying to find the right words to say. Psychology had never been his piece of cake. He always thought that his loved ones' feelings were a hidden secret. After all, he didn't think of anything better than just sticking to Andrea's example and finding something positive in this messed-up situation.
"On the bright side, you've finally got off your stupid diet," Noah did think it was a positive outcome, though it was too late when he understood that he shouldn't have said that.
"Are you mocking me?!" Andrea cried out, throwing the covers off herself. She looked like she was about to attack Noah. You could tell she was angry by the glint in her eyes. "Do you know how hard I try not even to lose weight, no, but to stay in the same shape I already am?!" she flung her arms up. "I torture myself over and over again! And then… I feel bad; I don't see the point of my effort, so I start binge eating everything! I don't even enjoy the food; I almost punish myself with it! Swallow it all; don't bother chewing, you, fatass! That's the only thing you're capable of!" Andrea said to herself with such an extreme level of self-heartedness and bitterness that Noah felt goosebumps on his back. He had no idea that his girlfriend hated herself so much. "I've already gained six pounds! My acne is worse than yours! But you're a guy! You don't care about it! And I'm a girl! I want to look nice! And skinny!"
"Guys also want to look nice," Noah objected. "And you, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever—
"I'm fat!" Andrea screamed. She sounded so desperate that Noah felt uneasy. He could never think that she worried so much about it. Yes, she was always on some diet, but it always looked like she did it for fun. Besides, she would often send nudes to the guys. Yes, she photoshopped the picture, but still...
"I'm fat, and I'm disgusting! I hate my body! I hate myself for losing control of it!" Andrea was yelling through the tears. "Do you know who else I hate?"
It wasn't difficult to guess.
"You and Scott!" It was definitely coming. "You act like you don't see how ugly I am!"
"We can't see the things that are unreal," Noah answered calmly.
"I'm so sick of you! You make yourself out to be God knows who!" Andrea was getting angrier and angrier. "I didn't want you to see me this way, though; now I think it's the only thing that can sober you up a bit!"
There was only a single lamp lit in Andrea's room, so it was impossible to see the whole room clearly. Andrea and Noah were sitting in the shadow, so Andrea sat down closer to Noah so that he could see her ugliness. Her hair was dirty and tangled. She had some pimples on her face from the junk food she had been eating. And Andrea could definitely use a shower. However, it was nothing compared to all the good traits the girl had.
"You're neither ugly nor fat. You're beautiful, Andrea. You are amazing, and you have always been one. Right now you're beautiful, too," Noah said, taking the girl's hand into his. Her face changed in disgust.
"You're doing it again!" she hissed and took her hand away. "You and Scott have always felt sorry for me!"
"That's not true."
"You're lying in my face! You tell me how beautiful I am; however, I look in the mirror sometimes, and I know that everything is just a lie-lie-lie!" Andrea started beating her knee with a fist hysterically. Noah tried to stop her, but she just beat his hand with her fist, too. After the accidental punch Andrea kind of woke up. Unfortunately, it didn't last longer than a second. Intrusive thoughts attacked her head again, so she hid in the corner of the room and burst into tears.
"I don't need your pity," she whispered, wiping her face off with the dirty sleeves of her pajamas. "I don't need anything from you! Just leave me alone!"
"Andrea, I'm afraid we can't do that, because Scott and I love you."
Andrea looked up at Noah with her wet eyes, and there was no sight of gratitude.
"Stop that! I don't believe a word you say! I can't be loved!"
"Do you even understand that nonsense you're saying?! Doesn't it bother you that Scott told you about his feelings?"
"Ha-ha-ha," Andrea laughed bitterly. "He was very much aware that I've been into him since the day we met!" He didn't know shit about it. "But he has never paid attention to me, seeing other girls! What has suddenly changed?"
"Maybe Scott had a moment of clarity and understood that the best girl in the world has always been around him?" Noah suggested.
"No," Andrea sighed. "You decided to become a good Samaritan for some reason. He wanted to do an unlucky fatty a favor, since nobody even looks at her!"
What? 'Nobody'? Guys were almost breaking their necks when they noticed Andrea going by!
"Is that what you've thought about my feelings this whole time?"
Noah and Anfrea flinched. Scott was standing at the door. He was out of breath. His forehead was covered in sweat.
"The door was open. So I decided to come in," he explained to surprised Noah.
Andrea squealed quietly and hid under the covers again.
"Go away!" she yelled.
"What the fuck is going on inside of your head if you turned everything I said inside out?!" Scott sounded mad when he continued.
"Go away!" it sounded miserably for the third time. Andrea was sobbing.
"What have you turned your room into?! It's a nightmare!" Scott, unlike Noah, wasn't patient with the others. Even with Andrea.
Morgan just shrugged his shoulders.
"Clinical depression? Eating disorder?" he whispered the diagnoses that he had heard before. "Or maybe something else. Anyway, she needs to see a doctor," he said.
"I'm not a psycho! I'm not crazy!" they heard her angry voice.
"Then why are you behaving like a crazy psycho?" Scott asked her; his voice also sounded angry.
"Scott!" Noah exclaimed. He thought Scott crossed the line. A moment later, he realized he was wrong. Scott definitely knew what he was doing. Andrea threw the covers quickly and got up from the bed.
"Scott, you can go and—
"I know where you can go now. To the bathroom."
"I won't!" Andrea suddenly decided that her job was to object to anything Scott would say? Wonderful.
"You will," Scott said and stepped closer to Andrea. The girl didn't have time to react. Prehensile fingers of her friend grasped her wrist.
"Let me go! I'll call the police! Noah, why the hell do you just stand there and do nothing?!"
"Exactly," Scott agreed. "You better come here and help me!"
Andrea opened her mouth to say something, but Scott suddenly grabbed her in his arms and, despite her fighting back tooth and claw, took her to the bathroom.
"Find some fresh clothes," Scott said from the corridor. "Don't forget the underwear. You surely know a lot more about that than I do."
Noah chuckled nervously and tried searching for some clean clothes around him in the room first, so that he wouldn't have to go through his friend's closet. A minute later he got desperate and understood that his principles weren't so important in this situation. After he found everything he needed, he followed the sound of a constant argument and found Scott and Andrea to be almost fighting for her pajama t-shirt. Scott wanted Andrea to take it off. Not in a sexual way, to be exact. In the bright light of the room, it was clear that Andrea's pajamas were in far worse condition than Noah had thought before. People don't usually wash these clothes. They burn them.
"I've told you to take it off! I won't look!" Scott was losing his temper again.
"Noah's looking!" Andrea snapped back.
"Noah's gay!"
"So what?!"
"Damn it, Noah, close your eyes!"
"Maybe we should better leave the bathroom and give Andrea some space to do everything herself?" Morgan suggested.
"No," Scott answered without skipping a beat. "If you leave her alone, she'll shut the door from the inside and do something stupid again!"
"Then let's just turn around, and you, Andrea, you can start filling the bubble bath."
"I don't want to!"
"Then we're going to stand here until you want to. Your mom will be surprised to find us here in the morning," Scott mentioned, turning around from Andrea. Noah did the same.
Andrea sent some curses to their backs, then she tried escaping the bathroom, but she couldn't go past Scott. There was no other option. The girl had to surrender. When the tub was full, they heard the splashing sounds of water. Scott and Noah turned back to Andrea. She was sitting in a bathtub and staring at the wall, covered in foam up to her neck. Scott asked to bring some sort of stool and a brush. Noah left the clean clothes on the laundry basket, brought the things Scott had asked him for, and went back to the bedroom. Firstly, he wanted to give his friends some privacy to talk. Secondly, something had to be done about that disaster in her room immediately. Noah had been at Andrea's house several times; he knew where in the kitchen he could find some trash bags. After he got back with a whole roll of those, he collected all the pizza packages. He tossed molded leftovers in one of the bags, and then he piled them up together with a tape. Then Noah went back and forth outside to take out all of the trash bags, boxes and other garbage that had been already rotting in the room for some time. He could only hope that the garbage truck would arrive in Andrea's neighborhood the next day. After he got back, Noah heard that Andrea and Scott were arguing about something again. Then, after a bit more careful listening, he understood that they were trying to understand each other that way, even though it wasn't a regular way to sort things out. They both were probably using the strategy: 'The louder I speak, the bigger the chances are that my opponent listens.' Well, it worked, at least partly.
Noah changed the bedding and left the dirty ones in the corridor. All the dirty clothes he had found laying on the floor went to the same place. The vacuum cleaner, which was found downstairs, also came in handy, as well as some cleaning products from the kitchen. By the time Noah finished, the room had changed. It wasn't perfect, but it looked a lot better than it had been. Fresh air was finally getting inside the room through the open window, forcing the frowst out. Noah didn't know whether he was allowed to throw some of the things out or not, so he wiped them carefully with a sanitizer and placed them on the table. All the empty bottles were taken away and the dishes were done (apparently, there were some ceramic plates buried under the paper ones). Noah looked at the time and gasped. According to the clock, it was twenty past ten. Was Andrea really in the bathtub this whole time? Worried Morgan approached the bathroom; the screams had been gone a long time ago. He walked in on his friends being in a funny situation. Andrea, fully clothed, was sitting on a stool, her back facing Scott, while the guy, who made himself comfortable on top of the laundry basket, was untangling her hair fully engaged. The task wasn't easy at all, judging from Scott's stiff face. Andrea was stretching her shoulders from time to time. She was probably tired from sitting in the same position. They had probably been busy with it for a solid hour.
"Don't pull it so hard!" Andrea hissed after another Scott's attempt to brush through her hair.
"You better not leave your hair unbrushed for a week anymore! It's your hair's revenge, not mine."
Andrea frowned and continued waiting for the torture to be over. Noah knocked on the doorpost, dragging everyone's attention.
"I did some cleaning in your room," he said. Andrea pulled a long face when she understood what a nightmare Morgan had probably gone through. The only thing she said quietly was:
"Thank you."
"Now, if you guys don't mind, I'll leave you here. It's getting late," Noah smiled, understanding that two was a company, three was none. Both friends nodded at the same time, supporting his idea. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, though he doubted that Andrea would come back to her classes the next day.
"Bye," Scott answered.
"Wait!" Andrea suddenly said, grabbing her phone. "I've just read it! Congratulations!" she squealed. "Dating Ethan Thomson is probably sooo sick!"
Scott suddenly darkened, but Noah couldn't hold a happy smile. Of course, Andrea didn't fully heal. She still needed help. However, she at least tried to come back to her natural style of communication. It was already something.
"You're right," Morgan affirmed. "I can even say it's mind-blowing!"
"You've been dating for like two days," Scott immediately mumbled.
'Which is already longer than you and Andrea,' Noah was on the verge of answering acidly.
"And these two days have been the best of my life!"
Noah checked his phone only when he finally got out of Andrea's house. Ethan had texted him three hours before. The chat looked sort of dry.
Ethan Thomson: "Busy?"
Noah Morgan: "Busy."
He was in the process of scrubbing off the pieces of an apple pie from the floor.
Ethan Thomsn: "Got it. Text me when you can."
Noah decided to go ahead and call him.
"Hey," he greeted Ethan, catching himself thinking that he was already missing him.
"Hi. How was your meeting with Andrea?"
"Well…" Noah tried to find the right words to describe the problem while not actually telling about it. Nothing came to his head. "There are some obstacles, but we're getting through them."
"What obstacles?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why?"
"Because it's not my secret."
Ethan was silent for a moment.
"Okay."
"It has nothing to do with my bullying situation, though," Noah added quickly.
"Are you sure?" Ethan asked skeptically.
"I'm sure. If it had concerned me in any way, I would've told you about it immediately," Noah answered persuasively.
"Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear," Ethan was satisfied with what Noah said. "Although I can't even imagine what you could possibly do at Andrea's for so long, since Scott's a person she should've talked to in the first place."
"And she did! She spoke to him!"
"And what were you doing?"
"And I was... cleaning," Noah mumbled, stuttering.
"How often do you spend your evenings cleaning your friends' houses?"
"Well, anything could happen," Noah mumbled. He wasn't going to start talking about Andrea's problems, even though Ethan was his boyfriend, but he didn't want to lie about what he was doing, either.
"You know, my room's been kind of dusty recently," Ethan suddenly mentioned.
"Cut the crap; you have cleaning coming over to your house on a weekly basis," Noah laughed.
"It's true, though I'm not satisfied with their work. I think you can do a far better job."
"You really don't have to come up with an excuse to just invite me over to your house."
"Why just... You didn't forget your promise to be my model, did you?"
At first, Noah could get what Ethan was talking about. However, when realization hit him, he questioned himself how he would've felt being in this role as Ethan's boyfriend?
"I d-didn't," Noah said hesitantly.
"You stumbled."
"Yes, people stumble in their speech sometimes. I can also stutter once in a while. And I sneeze. And I mangle words. Anyway, I have a versatile personality."
"You're being doubtful."
"I'm confused."
"Are you afraid it will turn you on?"
"Ethan!"
"Last time you fired up alright."
"Jesus Christ!"
"You really thought I wouldn't have noticed?"
"I'll go to some bridge and jump from it out of shame right now, I swear!"
"Don't do that. If you jump from the bridge today, how am I going to tie you up tomorrow?" Ethan asked reasonably.
"You're a horrible person," Noah sighed, choking on laughter.
"And I'm proud of it. So, tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Is it okay if you get here by yourself? I have to skip some of the classes tomorrow to go to my father's work."
"No problem."
"Get ready to undress."
"I won't!"
"You will."
"No!"
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes."
"NO!"
"We'll see."
What the hell was that 'We'll see'?!
5' 3"
Everything was spontaneous. Ethan felt a bit upset that Noah decided not to tell him about their issues with Andrea, even though he liked this character trait of his. Rendezvous proposal with ropes across the body escaped the lips out of nowhere, which was followed by a sleepless night filled with thoughts about the best bondage for this occasion. He didn't want to pick anything too difficult. Noah would probably get tired fast not being used to it. He also had better not pick anything provocative, either. It wasn't the right time for that. Jane Doe gave Ethan a hint in the morning, wearing little rhombs on her body.
It wasn't the best idea to plan everything in advance, because Ethan just couldn't stop thinking about the upcoming evening. As a result, the lector almost lost his voice during the lecture, trying to reach his favorite student's ears. He wasn't the best driver, either, since the only way he would press his foot on the gas on a green light was if someone honked at his back.
"There's something weird about you today," even his father noticed Ethan's mood, though the only way he could usually be distracted from his work was by a bomb explosion.
"No, everything's fine," Ethan shook his head, forcing himself to distract from unnecessary thoughts. "Are you planning to stay up late at work as usual?" he tried to ask matter-of-factly.
"Oh, I see!" Michael gasped, understanding everything immediately. "You invited him over again! As a responsible parent, I need to lecture you about the importance of using protection, right?"
"I'll be fine. You know nothing's going to happen."
"I know at least something is going to happen."
"A tea party," Ethan said acidly. "Trust me, I've never dreamed about having that kind of conversation with my father."
"You should have. I was good at it!"
"I shall know no more."
"Of course I'm probably a bit rusty right now, but once a pro, always a pro!"
"Enough," Ethan hissed and went back to the documents. The case, which his father was working on, was one of those that was paid for by the fund. José Garcia was a nineteen-year-old boy from Mexico who was accused of a cruel murder of the girl who lived in his neighborhood. José would've never afforded even a regular lawyer, not to mention Ethan's father. But that was what the fund was created for. Michael chose himself who he wanted to help. While choosing, he always listened to his gut, which had never turned him down.
"He's innocent," the father said after he talked with the guy. "A Mexican boy from a poor family—you couldn't think of a better whipping boy. But he's innocent, and we'll prove it."
Michael had been conducting his personal investigation for three months now, visiting José and the courtroom. Throughout that time, he dug out so much information that could definitely affect some men of power. The assassinated provided escort services, and there were several people in her list of clients whose reputation not only would be screwed if the information about the girl appeared, but it would also destroy their careers.
"You're getting yourself into something dangerous again," Duncan sighed, thinking of the amount of extra work.
"Just the way I love it!" Michael laughed.
Ethan was grateful that his father trusted him with the case papers and that he had never ignored his son's remarks. However, today 'a fresh eye' gave no results, and Ethan even knew why: his thoughts would constantly go back to the upcoming evening with Noah.
"Can I take a look at them again tomorrow?" he asked, hopeless to focus on work.
"Sure," Michael nodded with a smile. "I've already understood that you'd be useless today. I'll sue your boyfriend later for stealing your attention!"
"Oh, come on," Ethan waved off at the door. "It's not about Morgan."
Of course, it was about Morgan.