Thank fuck.
Maybe he could fall asleep before Noah came back out. That would be best, right? Ramin tucked himself into the far side of the bed and closed his eyes.
Except he still needed to charge his phone. Shit.
He reached over and dug through his backpack to find his charging cable and adapters, but there was no place to plug it in on the bedside table. So he got back up and found an outlet next to the floor lamp.
He tucked himself back in bed and immediately started sliding toward the middle. He slid his hand under the cover and felt the seam in the middle of the mattress—or rather, two mattresses, pressed together, but with a single sheet over them.
He shifted to make sure he was firmly on his side. Was sleeping on his back best? That was safe, right? No chance of accidentally touching. But what if he got hard and his erection tented the covers? Side, then. He was usually a side sleeper, so that worked out. Should he have his back to Noah or his front? Back was normal, right? Front meant you might kiss, or cuddle.
Outside, darkness had truly fallen, though the rain still hammered the window. He realized with a start he hadn’t eaten dinner. Normally he wouldn’t let himself skip, even if he wasn’t hungry—he used to skip all the time when he was in a disordered eating phase—but he was so full from lunch, the thought of eating anything else made him cringe.
But, shit, he hadn’t said his nightly prayers.
Ramin was an atheist. He had been since he was twelve or so. But his parents had both been Bahá’í. Ramin didn’t believe in an afterlife, but his parents had. He prayed for them every night. Prayers for the departed. One for his dad, one for his mom. Just in case.
It didn’t make Ramin feel any closer to any sort of God, but it did make him feel closer to his parents. To the memory of them sitting side by side on their bed every night, silently reciting their Obligatory Prayers together.
Ramin pulled back the covers, sat up, and closed his eyes, muttering the words under his breath.
When he finished, he sighed and began to get back into bed.
“Hey,” Noah said.
Ramin startled. He hadn’t heard the shower turn off.
“Hey.” Ramin glanced over automatically and then immediately wished he hadn’t. Noah was standing in the bathroom doorway, in Ramin’s pink T-shirt and a pair of ugly, baggy plaid boxers, haloed in the glow from the bathroom.
On the one hand, Ramin was almost offended that Noah wore such terrible, formless underwear.
On the other, he was extremely grateful for that fact, because the heinous boxers obscured any possible sign of Noah’s Ark.
“I took this side, is that okay?”
“Of course.”
Ramin slid himself back into bed, facing away from Noah.
“What were you doing?”
“Oh.” Ramin felt heat creeping up his cheeks. “I was, um… praying. For my parents.”
“Did I interrupt?”
“No. I was done.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Ramin closed his eyes, but he still felt the shift in the bed as Noah slid under the covers. The heat rose immediately.
Ramin tried not to think about that.
Or about how Noah smelled like soap and clean skin and just a little lingering remnant of sugared birch.
Or about his erection. He really should’ve jacked off.
That seam in the middle of the bed threatened to pull Ramin into its gravity well. He clung to the edge as the bed shifted. The light clicked off. And then Noah settled.
