Tears start spilling down his cheeks again, quiet and steady, just like the ink winding down his leg.
“Noah!” I bark, and he flinches.
“N-no,” he stammers. “He didn’t hurt me, Alex. Not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Donottell me what I’m thinking!” I shout, the words tearing from my throat like shrapnel. “If I werethinking, I wouldn’t be here right now!”
My hands fly to my ears, clawing, digging, trying to silence the ringing. It feels like it’s tearing through my head.
I can’t do this. I need to get out. I need to run.
“Last chance, Noah,” I growl. “Tell me what he did to you. What the fuck did Gabriel do?”
He presses both hands to his face, wiping at the tears with a kind of desperate fury, like he’s trying to erase himself.
And then he hesitates.
Freezes.
His trembling hands lower, but his lips don’t move. His silence is louder than anything he could say.
He looks at me like what he’s about to divulge might wreck me.
But I’m already wrecked.
What I just did is tearing me apart; there’s nothing left to ruin.
“H-he was kissing me… loving on me. And then… and then…”
“And thenwhat?”I press, though my voice comes out low, breathless—me trying to reel myself in before I spiral again.
He lifts those pretty eyes, glassy and wide, and stares right through me.
“We were going to fuck,” he whispers. “I was going to lead him into the rain.” He bites his lip and looks away. “Because I needed to be saved.”
My heart shatters. But my blood pressure also spikes. I’ve had enough of thisrainshit. He should write poetry or something. Maybe someone else can make sense of this damn story.
“I understand that,” I say, taking a step toward him. “And did you… Did you fuck him?”
His eyes snap back to mine, pupils swimming in emotion. His lip still caught between his teeth, like he’s afraid of what might slip out next.
“No,” he says, barely audible. “But I touched him…there.”
His eyes flick downward—to my ass—and linger just long enough to make sure I understand.
I do—crystal fucking clear.
When he looks back up, there’s guilt swimming in the blue. “He liked it,” he continues. “Me playing with his ass. And I was okay with it because it gave me time… to relax, gather my thoughts. Plus, he was smiling, and I love it when he smiles.” He pauses for a moment, looks away, then quickly back. Eerily, he asks… “Have you ever heard the sound of a moan through a smile, Alex? Desperation and delight wrapped into a breath—like sunshine sighing? It’s a beautiful sound—those moans singing against my lips.” He blinks, fast. Lashes fluttering so rapidly that I lose count. He inhales a sharp breath like he said something he didn’t expect to. He hesitates, shakes his head, and I shake mine becausewhat the actual fuck?Then he continues. “He, um… lowered himself onto my finger, moaning deeper, darker, more desperate… shuttering as he breathed his name across my lips.”
My jaw tightens. It takes me a second to realize he’s stopped speaking. His words still funneling through my brain. “Whose name?” I ask, realizing he left it hanging.
He blinks slowly, like the memory still stings. “Elijah.” He deflates with a sigh. “He moaned for Elijah.”
Phone call from America.
At the sound of the voice again, I whip around and slam my foot into the door. Blinding white light explodes behind my eyes, shredding my vision. I stumble down the hallway, gripping my head, out of my fucking mind.
Passing the roses, my fist lashes out, smashing into the crystal vase. Flowers scatter through the air, water spraying in every direction as the vase crashes against the wall and shatters into pieces.
