Chapter 11

5' 3"

… Thomson took his eyes off the rear-view mirror, struggling to persuade himself that he was worrying only because his imagination had played some dirty trick on him. A completely empty road was in front of him, and, for the first time in his life, Ethan regretted that they hadn't been stuck in traffic. He wouldn't mind spending a couple of hours in good company. The name of this good company was, of course, Noah.

The parking lot conversation between Thomson and Morgan seemed more like walking barefoot on a sharp blade, every false move on which threatened to fall down a precipice, though every right move would cut your feet apart and leave sharp pain behind. Ethan pictured him and Noah as two quickly sketched figures that were slowly walking towards each other with poor balance, leaving blood stains everywhere. Though Ethan was the one to leave blood stains. Kidnapping. What was he even thinking about when he decided to tell Morgan about it? It was his secret, after all. It was a little secret that Thomson was hiding carefully, so the topic would never come up again.

Probably Noah was asking himself why Ethan had been telling him all that and why the hell he hadn't started the car yet. Little did he know that the answer was right there all along. Thomson just wanted to spend some time with Noah in privacy. With no music on the stage, no humming around, and no irritating bartender behind their back. Just in silence. The more, the better. It was a pity that silence didn't work out because strangers can't spend a lot of time in silence together without feeling awkward. Silence is too intimate to share with someone you know nothing about. Try to relax and sit in silence when you can't bear physical touch and the person you're talking to is surprisingly upset that you come from a wealthy family. Ethan was ready for anything, but not for that. Usually his father's financial circumstances attracted people, rather than the reverse. As soon as rumors started spreading that Ethan Thomson was some 'golden boy', he would immediately get surrounded by those arrogant blood suckers like Steve and shy (but still) blood suckers, who would rather look down and mumble quietly that they are, unfortunately, short of cash today. Ethan, could you pay for that, please? I'll pay you back, I promise!

They never paid back.

Ethan was buying it at school. In university – never. So the status of 'golden boy' changed into 'cheap golden boy','mad golden boy', 'crazy dwarf', and 'schizy bastard.' But the problem wasn't in his cheapness or madness. Ethan didn't care about the money. But he cared about any possibility of other people taking advantage of it. No, thank you; he didn't need it. Ethan had already been there, and he didn't like it at all. During the school years, he thought that he had a group of loyal friends, but when the circumstances showed up and Ethan needed their support, understanding, and sympathy, there was, surprisingly, no one around. Nobody offered their help. Besides, Ethan developed a slight animus toward all the benefits his father had been paying for. The reason Ethan took the car today in the first place was because there could be a possibility he needed to give Morgan a ride since he didn't want to send him home in an Uber. Moreover, Ethan completely ignored all the cars in the garage, including Bugatti's hypercar (his father's gift for his last birthday), preferring to commute by either public transport or on foot. However… Probably, he needed to take the wheel again in the near future. Not for his own comfort, of course.

Ethan developed the same attitude towards his father's power. Thomson could mention it once in a while, just like he had done in their conversation with Steve earlier that day, but his pride would never let him make these threats come true. He was bluffing. Thomson preferred to solve all of his problems, when they would become real, on his own. That was why, if one of the numerous conflicts had ever been taken to court, Ethan would personally defend himself. Without his father. Without the army of his loyal dogs of law. Without his authority or, even worse, money.

'If I can't even defend myself, how will I defend the client? If I'm not to become a good lawyer, what's the point of freedom?'

If Thomson's father had an idea about his son's thoughts, he would definitely say something about Ethan's black-and-white mentality and teenage idealism that he needed to grow out of. Of course, he was right; there was no doubt, but Thomson couldn't change himself with a wave of a magic wand. He didn't want to, either.

Ethan looked in the rear view mirror again and then glanced at Morgan, whose eyes were ranging over the car dashboard. He became a bit more relaxed after a conversation with Thomson. But not completely. What's wrong? Why did the car neither impress you nor ecstasize you? Everything turned out the opposite way. Why did you suddenly go into a shell and even try to run away? The answers were clearly hiding in Noah's past, and Ethan desperately wanted to find them out. Maybe rich kids were bullying him at school? Or maybe it was his wealthy family that was constantly abusing him because of his financial illiteracy? Or maybe… Maybe there was a wealthy ex with a bunch of shit instead of a brain? Morgan had surely been dating someone before the rumors started. Who was he? How long? Why did they break up? There was probably more than one ex. Several? Their names? Addresses? Did they treat Noah well? Or not? If not, the next question arises: how could he pay them back and get away with it?

Thomson was trying to get rid of the intrusive thoughts, but they were coming back anyway. He was anxiously drumming on the steering wheel. Morgan was only acting like an open book, but it was easy to spot that he was hiding more than he was showing. Ethan liked it about him. He liked mysteries and hated open books that could open up and tell about the most intimate things right the first time they would meet someone. If the person tells something like that to a stranger like Ethan, then, with a 99% chance, they tell it to everyone else. Thomson, on the contrary, preferred to feel somehow special in a conversation. He preferred to feel like the person that others share the most intimate things with. He didn't want to be 'just like anyone else'. That was why he tried to avoid people like Noah's sociable friend. What was her name again? Andrea? She was just a typical, carefree, extremely sociable beaty-bomb who had an army of friends and mates behind her back. She was definitely building contact with them through the needless stream of pathetic compliments and being buddy-buddies. Being a basic social whore could turn any individual into a part of a mass, or so-called 'group of friends' that consisted of a couple of thousand people. Ethan was aware that he was probably unfair. On the other hand… He didn't give a single fuck about them.

After all, he wasn't interested in Andrea. She could be friends with half of the planet and believe that all the relationships she had created were real and wouldn't fall apart after the slightest breath of wind. The most important thing was that she didn't bother Noah and Ethan.

… And there Thomson had suddenly realized everything. He had just stopped at the red light, looked in the rear view mirror, and then, again, glanced at Noah when the shattering realization hit him like a tsunami. For some time already, he had been thinking about Morgan, like he was already sure that he would gain Noah's affection, tell him about his feelings, propose to date, and, after receiving his consent (Ethan didn't even bother to think about any other variant), as soon as possible, get him into...

Oh, God.

It was a really bad scenario.

The situation was developing way faster than he imagined. Three times. They'd met only three times, and yet Ethan was already stuck in his feelings for Morgan. And why? Because there was a desperately cute guy behind the beautiful voice and handsome face who didn't lose his charm after several years of being bullied. There definitely had to be a spirit not to become a clot of hate towards himself and the people around him after all the shit he had gone through.

Ethan couldn't even imagine. He, on the contrary, actually became that clot of hate. Due to other reasons than Noah, Thomson chose the way millions of others would choose, while Morgan was still standing, suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. And yet nobody ever tried to hit on him? Ethan couldn't accept this fact.

It was better if Morgan had been taken. Then Ethan would've had to suffer through his internal hell, torn between the things he could and actually wanted to do. Thomson had learned how to control almost all of his desires. But his need for a partner wasn't one of them. He knew that he was giving the impression of a lone person who didn't need anyone. He did want to be a loner. Unfortunately, impressions and reality didn't match. Ethan needed some time to tolerate that he really needed a person who he could wake up and fall asleep with, who he could share both good and bad news with, and who could build a life together. It was just a stupid romance, which Ethan thought he didn't suit, but, on the other hand, it turned out to be a vital part of his life. The fact was even weirder because this necessity appeared when a new Ethan showed up. With an evil Ethan. With Ethan, who was fencing himself off systematically. Ethan from the past—the life and soul of the party—who could gather around himself the crowd of his admirers—didn't need that. Probably because he didn't really understand what loneliness actually meant back then and how valuable human support was. Back in the day, he felt that life was easy and full of fun.

Well, it wasn't that much fun now, right?

Thomson knew too well the outcomes of a carefree life, that's why, when Noah assumed that he would never have that kind of life, Ethan couldn't hide his emotions. The slight burst of acidity, which almost immediately disappeared, brought another insight: Noah was fun not only to talk to. Teasing him also felt nice. Ethan wished he could know what Morgan had thought about when Thomson demanded to make it up for him. Nothing bad, right? Actually, Ethan didn't want anything from Noah. More specifically, he didn't need anything similar to 'an apology'. All of his wishes should have been fulfilled only on a voluntary basis, rather than on the basis of trying to compromise and reclaim a fault.

…Noah must wish for it as much as Ethan.

'Stop thinking about it!' Thomson ordered himself, paying attention to a rare view mirror over and over again.

No, it definitely wasn't paranoia.

"Oh, we're here," Noah pointed at the door of an apartment house, making Ethan frown a little. Thomson hoped to spend at least a couple of more minutes with him. "Thank you for a ride," Morgan said as a goodbye, getting out of the car, "And for the company."

That was it. That was how it should have ended. Step on the gas, come back home, delete Noah's damn number from your contact list, and never appear near the art department. Never again!

"Where're your windows?" Ethan asked, leaving the car with Noah. He noticed that Morgan wasn't rushing home. He wanted to smoke a cigarette first. When he was taking a pack out of his pocket, something else fell out on the ground. A card. The one Morgan got from a bartender. Without a doubt, Noah threw it in the trash can.

Ethan came to the same thought involuntarily: 'There's no way no one has ever tried to hook up with him.' What was he even thinking? He had already received the answer to this question no more than an hour ago. At that moment, Ethan was a witness to why Noah had been alone. He didn't want to be with just anyone, even in his disadvantaged position. All that was giving Ethan some interesting thoughts.

Noah got embarrassed. He probably didn't expect that Ethan would want to stay.

"Seventh floor. Do you see that creamy-ginger cat near the curtains? That's Peanut," he pointed up and drew a circle with a burning cigarette.

Ethan spotted the chunky cat easily. The pet's eyes were sparkling in the darkness of the late evening.

"You're overfeeding him," Ethan stated.

"I'm trying to put him on a diet!" Morgan refused.

"I don't think you've made any progress," Thomson noticed. Morgan got embarrassed again after that comment.

"He's just a creeper," he mumbled.

"Or maybe someone's just not strict enough," Ethan noticed. Morgan flushed and drew in a cigarette.

Morgan seemed to prefer Ethan over the bartender. Ethan thought that he might actually be right. Maybe it was because of beer; though, Thomson would rather bet that Morgan was so not used to the normal conversation that he could fall in love with the first who treated him equally. By a strange twist of fate, that 'first one' wasn't the guy from the bar. It was Ethan. Was it possible for another person to be in the same position? Or it wasn't? Who cared? Anyway, this affection shouldn't be taken into account. It was about to melt soon, just like snow in spring. Even if it was mutual, what was the big deal after all? Nothing could work out.

Noah took another drag. Ethan didn't like the smell of tobacco, but, firstly, Noah smoked way too beautifully to deprive Ethan of the pleasure of observing this scene from the side. Secondly, Morgan was using some kind of subtle perfume. It was like a fresh sea fragrance. This smell, combined with cigarette smoke, made quite a combination. Ethan liked it. Or maybe he just felt that he liked it because of his developing lovesickness. Even if it were true, Ethan would still like it.

Nothing could work out; just go away. Just say goodbye and get back in the car. Nothing could work out, Ethan. What the hell are you doing?

"I'm glad that you agreed to go to the concert, thank you," Morgan broke the silence, looking at the trash can so closely like he was talking to it, not to Ethan.

"It was... informative," Thomson said, demanding himself to finally leave for good, "Any other suggestions?" he asked quickly.

Damn.

Goddamn.

Ethan!

Yes, even if nothing turned out, it didn't mean that he needed to break all the connections now? 

No, it meant. It actually meant! Right here. Right now. Right away!

"Oh, of course, if you want to go somewhere else..." mumbled Morgan, looking more like a tomato.

Ethan wanted. No matter where. It could be even the Glide Memorial Church choir, even though religion had never inspired Thomson.

"You promised to take me to the gallery," Ethan recalled, not being able to take his eyes off Noah smoking. How he was holding a cigarette, bringing it to his lips, and taking a big drag. However, the thoughts were far, far away from all that nicotine.

"Oh! So, you don't mind?" Morgan cheered up, not having a clue what Ethan was going through, clenching his fists and trying not to touch Noah. The stupid body just couldn't learn that it wasn't allowed to touch other people. But the taboo was starting to fall apart at the seams as soon as Ethan began developing feelings for someone. Tactile famine was getting worse, and the desire for touch was almost unbearable. Thomson could swear; a couple of more minutes, and his hands would start smoking.

But Morgan didn't notice any of that. For him, Ethan remained as hard as a rock that wasn't bothered by emotions—well, maybe besides anger.

"It's better than sitting at home all day," Thomson said as casually as he could, "What about Saturday?"

Tomorrow? Do you really suggest you meet tomorrow? You're crossing the line. He'll think you're clingy and, of course, refuse.

A shadow of doubt ran across Morgan's face.

I knew it.

"No?" Ethan tried to stimulate Morgan's answer.

"Yes!" Noah answered immediately, "But..."

"But what?"

"I can't tell you the time right now. I visit my grandma on Saturdays. It can take a while."

Grandma? Ethan was on the edge of bursting into laughter. Stupid imagination immediately drew a picture of Morgan as a Little Red Riding Hood, with a basket full of food. What role would Thomson play then? Obviously, the role of a sly wolf that…

God, it seemed that Ethan was picturing some porn in his head. He thought it was stupid and way too comic. Well, what is different now?

The cast.

"Where does your grandmother live?" asked Ethan, killing the desire to laugh.

"M-m-m…" Morgan faded away a little, "It's Mercy McMahon retirement home."

Well, that looked a lot less like a children's tale of brothers Grimm.

"Is it far away?"

"Kind of."

"What time are you planning to head out?"

"Around ten," Noah mumbled, not sure. Probably, he wasn't a morning bird.

"Okay. I'll give you a ride to your grandmother, and after…"-I'll eat you-"...we go straight to the gallery," Ethan stated and headed back to his car, not giving Morgan time to think and refuse.

Noa stared at him like he was an alien.

"It might take several hours," he warned carefully.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it?'

"No, of course not! I just don't want to keep you waiting."

"Well… I won't wait if I go with you, right?"

"To my grandma?"

"Yeah. Will I embarrass you?"

"You won't, but the retirement home isn't an amusement park," Ethan said quietly, "Usually, people tend to stay away from those kinds of places. There are just elderly people, and some of them aren't really sane. Every second, they will think you're their grandkid."

"I don't demonize old people. We'll all be them one day. If we manage to live till we're old," Ethan smirked and opened the car door. He was about to get in, but then something that was keeping him alert reminded him of itself again.

"My grandmother's sick," Morgan continued, listing his warnings.

"Is it contagious?"

"Good, no!" Noah exclaimed, frightened. Ethan only smirked skeptically.

"I don't get it, do you want me to come or not?"

"I really do!" Morgan snapped out, and then he turned so red, it seemed like he wanted to break a new Guiness record for being the most scarlet person on the planet. "But I'm worried that your mood will get ruined, and then…" he started mumbling.

"Then I'm picking you up on Saturday," Ethan said, ignoring Noah's last words and enjoying his lost and embarrassed look.

"Th-thank you," Morgan said, throwing an unfinished cigarette in the trash and moving back to his front door. He was fascinating in his simplicity.

"Rush back home," Ethan waved, "And don't forget about the shirt."

Morgan nodded and closed the door behind him, and Ethan…instead of getting in the car, closed the door and walked on the sidewalk the opposite way from where they came from.

The clean Audi wasn't any different from the cars in this area. Actually, it looked almost unnoticeable here in downtown.

"Duncan, I've seen you," Ethan said, knocking on the driver's car window. The person, who had been pretending that he was reading a newspaper, pulled down the window, looking extremely unsatisfied.

Duncan cursed quietly.

"Damn, how?" the man sounded off.

"You were the one to teach me how to spot shadowing," Ethan chuckled, "Besides, Duncan, it's the 21st century now. Who else, apart from an ancient dinosaur like you, would sit in the car and read an actual newspaper when you have a smartphone?"

"Damn technical progress," the man mumbled, "It's killing the vibe!"

Duncan Smith worked for Ethan's father. The first time he had ever appeared at their front door was the week after Ethan's kidnapping and then his comeback home. He was a bag of muscles, something around 6'5", with a shaved head, wearing a suit that was clearly made-to-order. The company TSI – Total Security International [The company's name is fictional and was created by the author], on behalf of which Duncan was working, was signing contracts with VIP individuals all around the world. The activity list was expanding constantly. They could do anything, from counter-espionage and investigations to armed escort and bodyguarding, crowd control, and marine security.

It comes to mind that, when Ethan met Duncan for the first time, he didn't like him at all. He reminded him of a typical daredevil from one of the movies with Arnold Schwarzenegger or Sylvester Stallone. But Smith turned out to be a simple person to contact. Especially when Duncan agreed to secretly teach Ethan some useful stuff, Thomson finally replaced rage with mercy.

It didn't mean, though, that Ethan wasn't mad right now.

"Were you following me? Was it my father's request?"

"Why do you ask questions you know the answers to?" Duncan sighed, touching his nicely shaved skull with his gigantic hand. "Don't freak out. You understand that Michael's worried about you."

"The hell he is!" Ethan exhaled and unconsciously touched his necklace under the hoodie, "He doesn't trust me, that's all. Just when I decide to go out a couple of times on school nights or on a meet –"

"You're thinking in the wrong direction. Yes, Ethan, just when you decide to go somewhere outside of campus, you immediately end up in a fight with a local pusher."

"How do you know?" Thomson frowned, "Were you watching me even then?"

"Bah, right…" the bodyguard yawned, "Someone's tipped off that you've gotten into some shit voluntarily."

Ethan wanted to debate that fact, but the thought hit him.

"Did Audrey call?" he guessed.

"She did," Duncan affirmed. He had been working for Thomson's family for seven years now; that's why it wasn't surprising that everyone considered him to be a part of that family, kind of. When Audrey had cut all the connections with Ethan and her father, she, however, kept in touch with Duncan. Audrey was aware that, if her father wanted, he would find her no matter where she'd hide. With Duncan's help, of course. In Michael Thomson's opinion, however, he didn't have the right to cross that line until he knew that Audrey was safe. That was why she called Duncan once in a while—to let him know that she was safe and sound and didn't want anyone to search for her.

"So?" Ethan frowned, "The usual fight with some 'errand boy'. What's the problem with that?"

"Stop being a fool. It doesn't suit you," Duncan shook his head, "You know perfectly well that these 'errand boys' have a bad habit of complaining to their bosses. What are you going to do if upper-class bastards decide to visit you?" he asked a reasonable question.

"Why would they even need me?"

"So that you won't kick out their drugbees from their working spots," Duncan sighed, "Why do you tend to idealize everything? Or, maybe, it's not about it? Maybe you're doing everything on purpose, knowing perfectly well, what is it going to lead you to? Are you willingly running towards the knife so that it can cut open your belly? Do you understand that your death will break your father's heart?"

"That's stupid," Ethan snapped off, finally letting go of his necklace, "I'm fine."

"You're not invincible," Duncan reminded. 

"I know."

"You do, but do you really understand it? Ethan, conflicts don't always get solved in court. A lot more often, it happens in some backstreets, where seven go against one. The man can vanish just like that."

"I said I'll be fine," Thomson stated angrily, and he was about to go back to his car, but Duncan continued:

"It'd be extremely sad to run towards the knife right now, don't you think?"

"What does it mean?" Ethan frowned. Instead of answering, Duncan tapped on a folder laying on the front passenger seat.

"A handsome boy," he commented, "Do you want to know what I've found about him?"

Ethan struck like lightning toward Smith.

"Give it to me," he demanded, extending his hand, "Morgan has nothing to do with it! Why the fuck do you have to stick your nose into his life?"

"I prefer to stick my nose in the life of anyone whose pants you want to stick your hands into, just in case," Duncan laughed.

"Fuck you!" Ethan flushed, "Give me the folder right now!" 

Duncan sighed and handed the file over to Thomson. Ethan snatched it out of Smith's hands, then he bent over the man, reached the cigar lighter and took it out. A minute later the folder, which Thomson didn't even open, was burning in the nearest trash can. 

"So much drama," Duncan commented, standing a bit further from Ethan, hands buried in pockets, "You don't let me do my job." 

"You don't let me live," Thomson answered back. 

"You call it a life?" Smith spreaded his hands, "You should've stopped by for a visit," he stated and nodded at Noah's house. 

"I wasn't invited." 

"I can bet a hundred bucks that if you asked, he wouldn't refuse."

"Don't act like you don't know about my problems," Ethan said angrily, looking like fire is slowly eating the papers.

"Well… Let's hope the boy can solve your problems," Duncan said cheerfully. 

"Like it's that simple," Thomson frowned. Smith just shrugged his shoulders as an answer. 

"Where do you always find these innocent flowers from? Of course, I didn't try to dig out anything specific, but the guy is awfully good. Nothing interesting." 

When saying 'interesting' Duncan usually meant petty offenses. 

"Morgan isn't an innocent flower. And don't compare him with my other love interests. They all were different."

"That's your opinion," Smith rolled his eyes, "Well… At least, he's not as dumb as…"

"How long will you and my father continue reminding me about Greg?" 

"Till you retire!" Duncan busted into a smile, looking more like a shark from the 'Shark Tale' cartoon. "You can't dany though, the guy wasn't smart."

"He was peculiar."

"Peculiarly dumb," Smith nodded. 

"Don't try finding out anything else about Morgan till I ask you about it," Ethan exhaled. Probably, he should've ordered Duncan Noah's bully. Although, he needed Morgan's permission for that first, because Smith would've had to start the searching from the very beginning, which meant he needed to research every single detail of Noah's life. Ethan couldn't be sure Morgan would like it. 

"I can't promise you anything. I need to do my job," Duncan acted like he was sad. At least, he tried. The emotion looked artificial on his face, "But there's a little something about your boy –"

"He's not 'my boy'," Ethan bristled up immediately, but Duncan didn't notice.

" – that you need to know."

"Don't tell me anything." 

"Okay, I won't. You'll see it yourself if you get lucky." 

"I'll see what?" Ethan shook up. Duncan answered before Thomson realized and said 'don't tell anything.'

"There's a birthmark on his left thigh. It looks like a cat doing a big stretch."

Ethan was glad that the mask was hiding the bottom part of his face. He didn't want Duncan to have the pleasure of seeing it. 

"Do. Not. Dig. Any. Further." he said through his teeth. 

"Are you sure? What if it's not the only birthmark he has?" Smith winked. 

"Duncan, shut up!" Ethan uttered and returned to his car without saying goodbye.