Chapter 24: ADRENALINE RUSH

Tomorrow, it will rain.

The dark grey clouds cover the midnight sky. The moon doesn’t shine, and the stars hide from the darkness. Still, the suffocating heat of a summer night sticks to Noah’s sweaty skin, to his T-shirt, to his damp hair and his glistening brow. 

Rune comes up to his side, looking up at the imposing structure while he adjusts his climbing gloves. He fastens his harness, checking everything is in its rightful place. Noah keeps his hands out of the way as Rune deals with his borrowed equipment. 

“How experienced are you in this?” Noah asks, narrowing his eyes.

One corner of Rune’s mouth curves up. Noah would’ve mistaken the gesture for a twitch if he wasn’t looking at his lips. “Are you afraid?”

The white metal frame extends upwards. Noah feels the dizziness just by looking at it. “Isn’t that the purpose?” He says, a smile tugging at his lips. 

Noah wasn’t expecting this kind of danger when he accepted the boy’s offer. But he’s fine with it. The bridge extends over the Thorpe river, uniting the land at both side of its basin with a four lane road. Beyond the river, the suburbs extends for a few miles, like a tiny city contained in a bigger one. They have the darkness of the night to cover their tracks in their ascension. 

The bridge is about 700 feet high, enough to bring anyone to their knees at the prospect of climbing it. A height that would crush Noah’s bones in a fall, the water becoming as hard as cement. Would it be fast? Or would he feel the force of impact, and the snapping of every bone? His excited energy echoes in his stomach. He touches the metal. It’s slighly cold.

Rune explains to Noah the placing of the carabiner, the attachments, the rope…. And Noah listens intently, trying to keep up with the lesson. The way the boy speaks… He can’t avoid thinking this is the first time Rune has ever talked about something so extensively. His rosy lips move fast, and Noah tilts his head to have a better look. Noah’s stomach tingles. Rune’s calm confidence focuses Noah in the present, in the night, in the heat. He’s aware of the city lights at both sides of the bridge, and the eventual car headlights illuminating their wrongdoing in a blinking accusation. 

“How many years have you been doing it?” Noah asks, pointing to the harness.

“Since I was seven. My father is a climber.”

Noah looks for a flicker of sadness, for a slight pout in his mouth, or creases in his forehead, but he remains calm. So practiced, so perfect. 

“You hide your emotions like a pro. Or is it that it doesn’t hurt anymore?” Noah knows better, but in his voice he finds a slight amazement at Rune’s control.

Rune tugs at the rope hooped in Noah’s belt, bringing him closer to the climbing ladder. He loops both carabiners. 

“You wear your emotions in your body. Like a child.” He responds, with a serious face.

Noah chuckles.

They start climbing. Rune stays in Noah’s back as the latter gets on the steep stairs. He clutches the handrail as he positions the carabiner. Behind him, Rune’s expert hands move so quickly Noah barely sees a flicker of pale skin. He speeds up his movements, his cheeks burning with embarrassment at his clumsiness. However, his attempt is cut short when he trips, and he decides looking clumsy is not so bad. Even at his slow pace, the distance to the river gets longer at a rapid rate. Soon, the dark road blends into the river, and the sky seems to fall upon him when he looks up. The dizziness makes him feel as if he’s falling instead of going up, and for a second he sways in that sensation. 

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Adrenaline starts running the moment he looks down from the rail, and the darkness swallows his sight, only leaving the white foam to be seen. His heart races with the possibility, with the control. With the power. His breath comes out ragged with excitement, and he leans into the void. He closes his eyes, letting the vertigo lie to him, as if he was already falling. 

“Is it enough?” Asks Rune, very close to his neck.

“Yes, it is. Thank you.” Noah responds, slightly tilting his head back.

He’s trembling. It’s the danger, the one in front of him or behind him, he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s a combination of both. He turns on his heels, meeting Rune’s dark gaze. But it doesn’t pierce, it doesn’t demand to see him. 

Rune’s nose tip brushes against Noah’s, his breathing is even, caressing Noah’s cheeks with his warmth. He’s trapped. The handrail guards him from falling into the void, but nothing keeps him from falling into the body he’s facing. In the damp darkness, Noah’s clothes stick to him, and he wildly imagines taking them off. To feel the other body closer to him, with less layers and more skin. Noah rocks his hips forward, and Rune leans into the movement, and the boy’s arms are suddenly pinning Noah in that spot. The metal digs into Noah’s lower back as he leans into the river, Rune’s presence lingering over him, close but not touching. Teasing with the distance, playing with the possibilities. 

“You didn’t have to protect me. I don’t need protection.” Rune says, merely a whisper. As if saying it out loud will break the moment, as if he’s afraid the breeze will carry his words into alien ears. No. This is only meant to be heard by Noah, he knows it’s only for him. 

All of this is for him, he comprehends.

“You don’t need it.” He agrees with a trembling voice, his words echoing Rune’s like he’s following his order, confirming his power over him. Their eyes staring into each other in a hold stronger than iron. Noah swallows. “But it’s always nice to have someone watching over you.” He tips his head up, his mouth just millimeters away from the rosy lips of Rune. He’s joining the game, his half smile intended to tease Rune, to challenge him, to confide a message: ‘I can handle it.’ 

Noah reaches up, rubbing his thumb over Rune’s lower lip, testing the texture, the moisture. He’s asking for permission, so he waits. He waits, because nobody waited for Noah. He won’t push him like the others pushed Noah. However, one of Rune’s hands takes a fistful of Noah’s T-shirt. The cloth bunches up, exposing a bit of Noah’s stomach. Rune finally breaks eye contact to lower his gaze, and his hand unclenches. He runs his fingers over Noah’s T-shirt, caressing his stomach towards his chest, and then arriving at his neck, where they settle with a firm grip.

“I heard you tell Silas you liked it.” He whispers. There’s a question in his statement. He’s added an edge of hesitation into it that doesn’t translate to his confident moves. But as Noah waited for Rune’s response, Rune is waiting for his. For a confirmation to keep going. Noah’s stomach tingles at the question, at the possibilities. The raw desire intertwines with the fear, and the doubts. As survival shouts, so does the anger in the void as he looks at the abyss. His muscles tense, ready to jump.

Noah closes his eyes. He offers an imperceptible nod, as no word can describe the turmoil within him. His heart races, and his hips sway at the pleasure of letting himself go. At having the power to willingly hand over his control, but deciding how, and when, and how much he desires to give. He knows Rune will listen. He will obey as Noah obeys Rune. 

The pressure in Noah’s neck responds to his nod, slightly increasing. His hold is possessive, a call for Noah to pay attention to him and nothing else. And Noah complies. Their lips meet, and a dancing combat ensues between their mouths. Their kiss is raw with unsaid words and half-truths, it’s primitive and urging, deep and absorbing, hurt and hopeful. Teeth meets tongue, and skin touches skin, and Noah brings Rune closer, a demand in the tug to give him more, to be more. 

After minutes, or even hours, their lips separate. Noah’s are tender, still holding on to the remnant of the kiss.

Rune’s hand slides to the back of his neck, keeping Noah in place, anchoring their experience in reality. Their foreheads rest against each other, and they share their ragged breathing. 

In the outskirts of the city, close to the suburbs, two people united in their loneliness have met. They both carry their past with them, as a backpack that is ever-growing. And the passing cars are unknowing witnesses of their intimacy, even if the drivers don’t realize that a story is being told high above their heads. A story of broken minds and wounded hearts. 

And maybe, today, some wounds close. Not all of them, of course, their kiss doesn’t erase the past. But it can be a door to the future.

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