5' 8"-5' 9"
This wasn't how Noah imagined to spend Christmas Eve. In his mind, it was filled with the pleasant chaos of home, last-minute holiday errands, ugly Christmas sweaters, and the smell of duck roasting with apples in the oven. His parents had invited him to New York for the holidays. They'd promised to take him to Rockefeller Center to see the enormous Christmas tree strung with thirty thousand lights. But Noah turned them down. As expected, he'd wanted to spend Christmas with Ethan instead. They'd made plans to celebrate together. Maybe wander around the city for a while. Then, on the twenty-fifth, Andrea and Scott were supposed to join them. Noah had decorated the apartment a week before. There wasn't enough room for a full-sized Christmas tree, so he put up a tiny artificial one on top of the refrigerator, hoping it would be safe from the cats up there. Well… Fluffy had already knocked it onto the floor four times. Peanut, meanwhile, preferred chewing on the plastic pine garland wrapped with fairy lights that Noah had hung around the windows. Christmas was everywhere. Stores glittered with festive lights. Every billboard seemed dedicated to the holidays. And no matter where he went, ABBA's Happy New Year kept drifting through the air. The only thing missing was Ethan, who had apparently vanished off the face of the earth. The last time they texted was on the afternoon of December twenty-second. Now it was the morning of the twenty-fourth. Noah started his day with a trip to the hospital. He was hoping to see Duncan. If anyone knew where Ethan was—or what could possibly be keeping him so busy that he couldn't even text his boyfriend—it had to be Smith. So Noah was stunned when the receptionist informed him that Duncan had already been discharged on his own request, against medical advice. And it happened on that same fateful December twenty-second. Something had definitely happened. The only question was... What? And did Noah even have the right to demand an answer?
From the hospital, he headed straight to Ethan's house. Noah didn't know the exact address, so he first had to find the Thomson residence on a map using little more than vague visual memories. As the taxi rolled into the upscale neighborhood, an anxious knot tightened in his stomach. Am I even allowed to be here? What if someone stops the car and starts asking what the hell I'm doing in a place like this? But no one stopped them. The taxi drove through without issue and dropped Noah off directly in front of the wrought-iron gates. Why had he never realized how tall they were? Because his eyes had always been fixed on Ethan. The taxi pulled away. Noah remained standing in front of the gates, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Doubt gnawed at him. Was this the right thing to do? What if Ethan gets angry that he showed up unannounced? Maybe there's been another breakthrough in his father's case, and he simply didn't have time for Morgan. Or… Maybe Ethan was just tired of dating the most ordinary guy on the planet. Because that was exactly how Noah saw himself. Ordinary. Boring. Almost every day, he found himself wondering what Ethan had ever seen in him. Ethan could have someone better. Someone more attractive. Richer. Smarter. Not an average college student with two cats, acne, and a sketchbook full of dirty pictures. Rationally, Morgan knew Ethan wasn't the type of guy who ended relationships by text—or, worse, by simply disappearing. However, Noah couldn't ignore that possibility.
Even if his worst fears turned out to be true... Ethan and he still needed to talk.
Noah rang the doorbell. Nothing. He pressed it again, staring straight into the security camera mounted beside the gate. I'm here. I'm not hiding. Please, open the gate. The answer was silence. He was just about to ring a third time—while wondering whether he could climb over the fence before security tackled him—when a sharp car horn broke the silence. Noah flinched and spun around. A car was pulling up to the gate.Duncan was in the driver's seat. Smith broke into a broad smile and lifted his hand in greeting.
"I've just been at your place," he said as he rolled down the window. "And I wondered where you'd disappeared to on Christmas Eve." He gestured toward the passenger seat. Noah climbed into the car without a word. As they drove through the gates, he studied Duncan carefully. The smile looked genuine. But something about him made it clear that things were far from okay.
"What happened?" Noah asked dryly, never taking his eyes off Duncan. He was ready to catch the slightest lie. But Duncan had no intention of lying. He rubbed the back of his neck and winced slightly, as though the bullet wound that still hadn't fully healed decided to remind him it was still there.
"Some actual shit," he muttered as the gates swung open. It took less than thirty seconds to reach the front entrance, but neither of them got out until Duncan filled Noah in with details. Sentence by sentence, Noah felt the blood drain from his face. By the time Duncan finished, there was a painful lump in his throat. Morgan wished he had one of those paper bags airlines handed out. He could have used one right now to rebreathe.
"...The worst part isn't even that he's locked himself in his room and refuses to talk to anyone," Duncan almost chanted. "Honestly, the bigger problem is that he's refusing all pain medication. Three broken ribs, a concussion, and an injured arm aren't exactly minor injuries. Ethan's a tough kid. But everybody has a limit," he paused, "You're our last hope."
"Me?" Noah echoed, staring at him in disbelief. "What am I supposed to do? If he doesn't listen to his father or to you, why would he listen to me?"
"I wouldn't jump to conclusions," Duncan said as he got out of the car. Noah followed. Only after straightening up did he realize his knees were trembling. He followed Duncan into the house on legs that barely felt like his own. The bodyguard led him straight toward the staircase leading to Ethan's room on the second floor. Noah caught only a brief glimpse of Mr. Thomson. The older man simply raised a hand in greeting. Noah did the same. A moment later, another familiar face peeked out through a nearby doorway. It was Audrey. She gave Noah a long, appraising look but didn't say a word.
"Did they make it up?" Noah whispered for some reason. "Audrey and Mr. Thomson?"
"Not exactly," Duncan said with a faint smile as they walked down the hallway. "But the ice has finally started to crack." He stopped in front of the familiar bedroom door. On the floor beside it sat a tray with two plates. One held an untouched breakfast. The other contained several pills. Most of them were still there.
"Ethan." Duncan knocked gently on the bedroom door. "You've got a visitor."
Noah tensed. What would Ethan sound like? Would his voice be angry? Cold? Tired? What would he say? As it turned out, only silence answered them.
"I'll leave you two alone," Smith said quietly. He turned on his heel and headed for the stairs. Just before stepping down, he glanced back at Noah and gave him an encouraging wink. But everything about him suggested he didn't actually believe Noah could change anything. To be honest, Noah also did not believe that change was possible. That didn't mean he was going to give up without trying.
"Hey, Ethan," Morgan said softly, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "How... how are you feeling?" It was a stupid question that went unanswered. After waiting a few seconds, Noah slowly sat down onto the floor and leaned his back against the door. His thoughts were a complete mess. "You know... when you suddenly disappeared the day before yesterday, I figured you'd gotten busy with your dad's case again." Noah rested the back of his head against the door too. "I was really mad at you," he admitted. He had no idea how to give inspiring speeches or deliver dramatic declarations. All he could do was tell the truth. "I figured you were so wrapped up in work that you'd forgotten about me again. When you didn't show up yesterday... I started getting worried." He smiled faintly to himself. "I actually considered coming over here and picking a fight with you." A humorless laugh escaped him. "I was furious... and scared. My brain started coming up with all kinds of ridiculous explanations for why you'd vanished. I even googled whether there'd been any UFO sightings over the city. And according to the conspiracy forums, there definitely were! Apparently, they've invaded all of California. Can you believe that?"
The ringing silence began to press against his temples.
"I only lasted one day. And this morning I came here completely convinced you were going to call me clingy." Noah attempted a poor imitation of Ethan's voice. "Morgan, what the fuck? You seriously can't survive two days without me?" "It wasn't very convincing, was it?" He swallowed hard. "The funny thing is..." A painful lump rose in his throat. "I don't think I realized it until now... but I guess you were right. I really can't, not even for two stupid days." He pulled his knees against his chest, struggling to keep the sobs from escaping. He could've broken down back in the car while Duncan listed the facts calmly. Instead, he'd gone numb. Now that the shock was wearing off, the reality of what had happened crashed over him all at once. "Ethan... please. Talk to me."
"Go away." The hoarse, broken voice came from just beyond the door. Ethan had to be sitting on the other side, only inches away. "Go away, Morgan. And don't come back."
The words sounded harsh and cold. Ethan had already made the decision. For both of them. Noah, however, had no intention of accepting it.
"And what kind of person would I be if I left my boyfriend to go through something like this alone?"
"I'm not your boyfriend anymore. We're done." The rustle of clothing came from the other side of the door. Ethan had gotten to his feet, clearly intending to walk away.
"I object."
"It's not funny."
"Mr. Thomson," Noah said a little louder, forcing some firmness into his voice, "I formally object to your motion to terminate this relationship on the grounds that it's completely unsupported." Ethan needed to understand one thing—Morgan wasn't giving up that easily.
"This isn't a courtroom," Ethan uttered in a hoarse voice. "And my motion is more justified than anything else you'll hear today. Your ex-boyfriend is a drug addict."
"My boyfriend is a recovering drug addict," Noah corrected quietly. "I think that's what you meant."
"No. I meant exactly what I said. There are no former addicts." The words landed like a death sentence. One Ethan had handed down to himself.
"I object."
"Objection overruled. Believe whatever you want, but that's the truth. That's the ugly truth." A bitter laugh escaped Ethan.
"You're not using anymore," Noah countered.
"So what? I still want to. I was on the edge of relapsing. I'll always want to. I'll always be one step away from doing it. The only question is when."
"I object. Speculation."
"You should read the statistics. Numbers don't lie."
"I don't need statistics. I know you. You're never going to take that step. Anyone else, maybe, but not you."
"And what makes you so sure?"
"Because you didn't take it the day before yesterday," Morgan answered softly. Duncan had told him what he'd found when he broke down the closet door. Ethan looked like a trapped animal. His eyes were fixed on the syringe in front of him as though it were both the most terrifying and desired thing in the world. But Thomson hadn't made the fatal mistake. He'd made a different choice. Instead of reaching for the heroin, Ethan had driven his knife through his sobriety coin and then straight through the palm of his left hand, pinning the one to the other. It was hard to imagine how much force that had taken. The blade had punched through the soft metal coin, through his hand, and buried itself in the floor beneath. Duncan had remarked, with a strange melancholy, that after the initial blow, Ethan had probably had to keep twisting the knife, forcing it deeper through his hand before finally driving it into the floor. Not everyone could deliberately inflict that kind of pain on themselves. Not everyone could nail themselves to the floor just to keep from relapsing. It showed how utterly desperate Ethan had been. But it also proved something else: how fiercely he wanted to keep himself from ever going back to that life. He was even ready to hurt himself.
"I could have. The day before yesterday. Or right now. It's all I think about. All the time."
"I'd bet you aren't thinking about drugs during sex," Noah let out a quiet snort, trying to inject a little lightness into his voice.
"Just a momentary distraction."
"I wouldn't exactly call our sex life momentary."
"You know what I mean."
"I know you've decided to write yourself off. And I'm not going to let you."
"That's not your decision to make. If you stay with a drug addict, you're throwing your life away."
"I get to decide what I do with my own life," Noah shot back irritatedly.
"I'll drag you down with me."
"I won't let you. And I won't let you sink either."
"You have no idea what you're signing yourself up for."
"Oh, I think I do. I know I'm signing up for a life with the man I love," Noah blurted and exhaled anxiously. Neither of them had ever talked about their feelings. Ethan had never told Noah he loved him. And Noah had never said it either. But...suddenly, it seemed obvious. And if he couldn't say it now...when would he?
"In cheesy romance stories, love saves people," Ethan said after a long pause. "In real life, it turns into resentment, pain, and disappointment." He tried to sound as though Noah's confession meant nothing to him. He failed.
"Then I guess we'll just have to turn real life into one of those cheesy romance stories. How hard can it be? I'm in!" Noah smiled faintly. His voice sounded almost carefree. Inside, though, Morgan was weighing every word Ethan had said. He understood exactly what Thomson was trying to tell him. Yes, it would be hard. And yes, Morgan was willing to take that risk. Sitting outside Ethan's bedroom door, Noah realized that, perhaps for the first time in his life, he knew with absolute certainty what he wanted. He wanted to be with Ethan. No matter what.
"Go away."
"Not happening."
"Even if I weren't an addict, this relationship was never going to have a future."
What is that supposed to mean?
"A wealthy golden boy and a nobody who draws porn for a living? Come on. What exactly were you expecting?"
Noah bit the inside of his lip. Ethan was doing this on purpose. He wanted Noah to get offended and leave. Noah understood perfectly that everything Ethan had said—and everything he might say next—was complete bullshit. It still hurt to hear, but it was hard to take offense when it was so obvious that all those words were nothing more than an attempt to push him away.
"I was counting on my charm."
"I'm serious. Our relationship never would've lasted. We have nothing in common."
"Okay. Then let's say it wouldn't have lasted very long. In that case, you've got nothing to worry about, right?"
"I don't see the point in continuing something that has no future."
"You're forgetting one thing."
"What?"
"You're crazy about me!" Noah stated with complete certainty. For a moment, only a hoarse sound came from behind the door—something between a laugh and a groan.
"You think way too much of yourself, Morgan."
"The only person I think about too much is you."
"Shut up and go home. I don't want to see you anymore." The words sounded so painfully sad that Noah found himself smiling.
"You know..." he said softly. "I never expected you to be such a terrible villain," To his own surprise, Morgan laughed. "Seriously, Thomson, I've seen you tear people apart with your words a hundred times. I was convinced your tongue was sharp enough to humiliate Satan himself if you felt like it," Noah chuckled. "So how is it that right now you can't even hurt an innocent little flower like me? Or..." He paused. "Am I the only person you can't hurt?" Ethan said nothing. "If you were talking to someone you didn't care about, you wouldn't be struggling like this. The conversation would've ended the second you told me we were over. But you keep answering me. Why?"
"Go home," Ethan muttered. A moment later, Noah heard footsteps retreating into the room. Thomson had finally walked away from the door.
"I want you to break up with me while looking me in the eye," Noah said. "Until you do, I will rescind this breakup."
Silence.
"I'll wait," Noah said quietly. "As long as it takes."
"GO HOME!"
"No. I'm not leaving. Oh—and if you're not going to eat your steak, do you mind if I do? You know I stress-eat."
Silence answered him. Ethan decided the conversation was over. Noah disagreed. He polished off the steak, along with some cold potatoes and green peas, then kept talking about whatever came to mind: about Fluffy knocking the Christmas tree over again that morning; about the neighbor who had dressed her dog as Santa Claus for the third day in a row; about his parents, who had mailed his combined birthday-and-Christmas present, only for it to arrive after the holidays because his dad had miscalculated the shipping time. Ethan remained silent. However, it didn't stop Noah from talking.
A couple of hours later, Duncan appeared in the hallway. Seeing Noah simply shrug, he answered with nothing more than a warm smile. Another hour passed before Noah finally had to use the bathroom. Fortunately, Duncan seemed to read his mind and showed up again carrying a fresh tray of medication, announcing to Ethan that he'd brought more pills. Noah explained that he was just going to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Hopefully, Ethan would at least take the medication he hadn't been refusing. Before leaving, Noah quietly assured him that he wasn't lying in wait and wasn't going to pounce on him the second the door opened. He wanted Thomson to let him into the room of his own free will.
When Noah came back, the tray was almost empty.
Well… If that was the pace, he could sit out here for a couple of days. And he fully intended to, if that was what it took to convince Ethan that there was no circumstance under which Noah would ever abandon him. While filling him in on everything, Duncan mentioned that Ethan had repeated that he didn't trust himself at least two hundred times on the drive to the hospital. It must've been terrifying—not being able to trust yourself. If you stop trusting other people, you can at least distance yourself from them. Limit your interactions. Shut the world out. But what were you supposed to do when the person who had destroyed your trust the most... was yourself? Noah didn't know. Judging by everything that had happened, neither did Ethan.
Every time another meaningless thought popped into Noah's head, he voiced it immediately, just so Ethan wouldn't forget that he was still there. Still close. Whenever he ran out of things to say, he played a tile-matching game on his phone. The rules were simple: line up marbles of the same color, and they'd disappear, making room for a fresh row rising from below. After clearing about twenty levels, Noah unexpectedly realized how much the game resembled real life. Naturally, he shared that thought with Ethan too.
"...That's how it works, isn't it? Every time you solve one problem, another one immediately takes its place. A brand-new row of colorful chaos. It's kind of silly to expect that one day the problems will just... disappear, and life will finally become perfect. That never happens. Not to anyone. There will always be problems. Some come from the outside. Others grow out of our own bad choices and mistakes. But that's normal. It's pointless to believe otherwise. It makes more sense to deal with the obstacles one at a time. And preferably... not alone."
Ethan said nothing.
Toward dinnertime, Andrea dropped a photo into their three-person group chat. She was smiling from ear to ear in front of a lavishly decorated Christmas tree, with her mother and several other relatives gathered around her.
Andrea Long: "Christmas is almost here!"
A moment later, Scott sent a picture too. This time, the tree was accompanied not only by Scott, but also by his younger brother, who had sneakily held two fingers behind Scott's head to give him bunny ears.
Scott Kelly: "Merry Christmas!"
Noah tapped at his screen for a moment before sending a picture of Peanut hopelessly tangled in a string of glittering Christmas lights. He'd taken it earlier that week while decorating the apartment and simultaneously fighting a losing battle to keep the cats from destroying the tinsel.
Noah Morgan: "Happy holidays!"
He hadn't told Andrea or Scott anything about Ethan over the past few days. For one thing, he didn't want to ruin their holiday spirit. And for another... out of loyalty, they would've probably started making Ethan guilty immediately, while Noah had wanted to understand what was going on first. Well, he understood now, at least partly.
A little later, Michael Thomson appeared in the hallway carrying another tray. This one held two plates of food—one for Ethan and the other for Noah.
"So?" Michael asked quietly.
"He broke up with me," Noah answered in the same hushed voice.
"Oh..." Michael rubbed his tired eyes.
"I appealed the breakup," Noah added at once. That earned him a smile.
"Mr. Morgan," Michael said, "you're not nearly as simple as you seem."
"Oh, don't underestimate me," Noah replied with an eager nod. "I'm a very crafty opponent." He laughed nervously, even though there was nothing funny about any of this. Michael left. Time crawled by. When Noah finally realized his back and legs had gone completely numb, he started pacing the hallway, never leaving the bedroom door more than a few steps away. Was any of this worth doing? Could simply sitting outside a closed door really change someone's mind? Noah didn't know. What he did know was that he had no intention of leaving.
Close to eleven, his mom called. She spent a good ten minutes wishing him a Merry Christmas, with his dad occasionally chiming into the conversation. Somehow, the sound of their shared laughter had exactly the opposite effect it was supposed to. Instead of making Noah smile, it made him want to cry. However, he forced himself to say one one fake "thank you" after another.
"Yeah, Ethan says hi too! Yes, absolutely! Of course! Oh, Mom, our dinner table is incredible! I made the duck using your signature recipe! Yep, with apples! I didn't overcook it. Well... maybe a little. Okay, fine, it could've been better! But Ethan says it's great. Ha, that's not true! He's definitely not always—Mom, stop embarrassing me! I love you guys too! Bye!"
Noah tossed his phone aside and lay down right on the floor. He didn't want to lie to his parents. He wanted even less to tell them what his Christmas was actually looking like. Time passed. Hope slowly leaked away.
'Ethan isn't going to change his mind just because you're wearing out the floor outside his room,' Noah's inner voice kept telling him.
'What you're doing means absolutely nothing.'
'You're pathetic.'
"Happy birthday..." The quiet, hoarse voice suddenly sounding so close made Noah jump upright. Ethan was standing on the other side of the door. Judging by the sound of it, he practically leaned against it. Noah tapped his phone screen and glanced at the time. 12:01am
"Thank you," Noah breathed, unable to stop himself from smiling.
"Now go home, Morgan."
"No."
"Sitting outside my door until you collapse is a stupid plan."
Maybe. But just because it's stupid doesn't mean I'm giving up on it."
"It's a shitty way to spend Christmas and your birthday in the hallway of someone else's house."
"Then do something about it," Noah said tightly. Morgan didn't expect those words to have any effect. But they did.
A lock clicked. The door slowly opened. Noah jumped to his feet in surprise and stared at Ethan. He looked like he'd just come back from an expedition in the mountains. The hood of his sweatshirt hid his blond hair. Most of his face was covered by a medical mask. No, wait—two medical masks, pulled on top of each other. Thick leather gloves covered his hands. The only visible part of him was his dark gray eyes, shadowed by deep bruises underneath.
"Hi," Noah said awkwardly.
"Go away," Ethan forced out.
"No."
They spent some time looking at each other in silence.
"Noah... I..." Noah was the first to recover. He took a reflexive step toward Thomson. Ethan immediately stepped back, refusing to let the distance between them close.
"N-no," he stammered. "Don't."
"Why?"
"Because I want you to leave."
"No, you don't."
"Nothing good is going to come of this."
"That's not true."
"I..." Ethan hesitated, moving with an unfamiliar stiffness. "It's all back," he said, despite his tongue barely forming the words. The way Ethan winced after almost every sentence made it obvious his head was still hurting. Most likely, everything else hurt too.
No painkillers. I don't trust myself.
"What do you mean, all?"
"I can't..." Ethan noticed Noah taking another cautious step toward him and recoiled instinctively. His lower back bumped into the edge of the table, and he hissed through his teeth.
"Ethan!"
"Don't come any closer!" Ethan thrust out his right hand, ready to shove Noah away if he ignored the warning. Morgan obeyed and froze. "Don't..." Ethan repeated more quietly, his hand still held out between them. Only then did Noah notice the faint tremor running through it.
"I won't," he said softly. "Not if you don't want me to."
"It has nothing to do with what I want."
"Yeah, I understand."
"So leave."
Noah backed toward the door—
—but only to pick up Ethan's untouched dinner tray. Then he carried it back to where he'd been sitting before and sat himself onto the floor again.
"Are you going to eat this?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Well," Noah said, poking at the now-cold food with his fork, "I am."
"Go home."
"I'm fine right here," Noah said.
"What's the point of dating someone you can't even touch?"
Noah couldn't have cared less.
"I can't do it only for now," he replied. "Not forever."
And even if this right now threatened to become forever... It wouldn't have changed Morgan's answer.
"I don't know if I can get through this again."
"Then we'll find out together," Noah said calmly. "But I'm sure you can."
"Last time it took me four years."
"Last time you didn't have me," Noah pointed out. The truth was, he wasn't hungry at all. He'd only gone back for the dinner tray to catch the unmistakable flash of terror in Ethan's eyes—the split second he'd believed Noah was actually going to listen and leave. Ethan didn't want Noah to go. He just didn't believe he had the right to ask him to stay.
"Merry Christmas," Noah said. Then he spread his arms wide, leaving an empty space between them.
"What are you doing?"
"Hugging you."
"That looks ridiculous."
"I don't care."
Ethan stared at him for several long seconds. Then, with a quiet groan of pain, he bent over the chair for a blanket.
"Put your arms down. And don't move."
Without asking why, Noah did exactly that. Ethan walked over, then gently draped the blanket over Morgan's shoulders and head. The world dissolved into soft darkness. Noah heard Ethan approaching slowly but had no idea what he was about to do until the silence shifted with the faint rustle of fabric as Ethan carefully lowered himself onto the floor in front of him.
The embrace was weak and painfully careful. Ethan barely touched him. But it was more than enough. He rested his forehead against Noah's shoulder, and for a long while neither of them moved. At last, the heavy silence broke beneath a single quiet whisper, choked with pain.
"Thank you."
Well, there was a long road waiting ahead of them. But...They had already taken the first step.