“You need it, too. My brain isn’t the only one sorting through a strange chemical explosion.”
Kaj hesitated. “You sure?” Something is definitely off with me. Maybe I’ve suffered a full personality swap.
“Of course.” Noah slid forward to make room for him.
For some stupid reason, Kaj didn’t argue. He stepped into the tub behind Noah, heat wrapping around his legs as he settled down. The contrast in temperature between his body and the water sent shivers in every direction.
Noah leaned back against Kaj’s chest, their bodies sinking deeper into the warmth, muscles loosening as the water worked its magic.
“This is nice,” Noah murmured.
“Yeah,” Kaj admitted, the word slipping out before he could filter it. The worst part? He meant it. Noah’s solid weight against him, the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. It all felt right somehow.
Kaj’s fingertips drifted along Noah’s arm, tracing irregular patterns over his damp skin. It rattled him, this quiet intimacy, this thing that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with… something he was afraid to name. But he was too tired and comfortable to move. Too content to run before it got under his skin.
His fingers brushed against the washcloth floating near Noah’s chest. Without thinking, he grabbed it and squeezed a few drops of body gel onto the fabric. “Let me…”
Kaj’s pulse skyrocketed as he dragged it over Noah’s shoulder and down his pecs, slow and deliberate. Noah sighed in approval, tilting his head to the side and exposing his throat in a way that made the drummer too self-conscious of everything that was happening.
“That feels great, but you don’t have to do it,” Noah said, but his eyes were closed, his expression one of pure contentment.
“I want to.”
“You know…” Noah sighed as Kaj scrubbed the cloth down his chest. “I think you’ve truly ruined me for any other men out there.”
Kaj’s grip on the washcloth tightened for a fraction of a second before he forced himself to keep moving, to pretend those words hadn’t nailed themselves somewhere inside him. To pretend he wasn’t hyperaware of every tiny spasm of Noah’s muscles and every drop of water trailing down his skin.
“Sounds to me like you’re still in the middle of a rush bubble.” He let out a quiet scoff. “You know this is temporary. You’ll move on eventually and find someone better.”
Noah twisted his neck enough to look Kaj in the eye. “Better at what? Pissing me off? Playing drums? Making me come so hard I almost pass out? Taking care of me like you’re doing just now?” He flashed him a lazy smirk. “Hard to believe.”
As his gaze plunged deep into Noah’s eyes, Kaj felt it creeping in again, that dangerous, all-consuming emotion that had been lurking at the borders of his mind every time he’d touched Noah during the past few weeks—without resentment, without anything between them but erratic heartbeats, ragged breaths, and the weight of their reckless choices.
And now it was everywhere, drenching his skin like the water around them, seeping into the cracks he thought were fortified, dragging him out of his comfort zone.
He wanted to fight it. Shove it down, drown it before it drowned him. But he didn’t. Instead, he let go of the washcloth and brushed his fingers over the curve of Noah’s shoulder, the slope of his neck, pressing lightly over the marks scattered under the ink. Marks Kaj had left. Marks Noah hadlethim leave.
Kaj was standing at the edge of an abyss, staring down at the endless fall, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to step back or finally jump.
“If you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna start thinking you actually like me,” Noah murmured, voice quiet but firm.
Kaj froze.
Noah didn’t move, didn’t laugh like it was a joke, didn’t backtrack. He just let it sit there, pressing against Kaj’s rib cage, squeezing his heart.
Noah softly kissed Kaj’s jaw, intertwining their fingers together. “That’s what I thought.”
Kaj should’ve said something, laughed it off, locked Noah’s words into the same box where he kept every other inconvenient thought. But he couldn’t. Because no matter how hard he struck back or how fast he ran, the truth, sooner or later, would catch up with him.
It was inevitable.
Like them.
And it was terrifying.
Twenty-one
Backstagetodayfeltlikecoming full circle. The last time Kaj had been on these festival grounds with Noah, they were sixteen. Just a couple of kids lost in the sea of the crowd, watching Artificial Suicide play for the first time. But instead of being on the other side of the barricade, a few hours ago they’d finished their own soundcheck in front of an empty green field.
