Chapter 28: AN ITCH IN THE HEART

There is nothing valuable to steal. And as Noah searches beneath the beds, in the closets, in the drawers of the nightstands, his conviction grows proportionally. It’s not what is inside, but the place itself that is the mark. If he pulls that thread, there’s a question on the other side. How does Sam’s puppeteer know about this place? How does Noah’s memories connect to this?

Rune’s leaning on the doorway, he has crossed his arms above his chest, his gaze darting across the mess Noah has left behind the more he lost his hope of finding anything. Noah sighs, observing the littered objects scattered on the floor. He wants to speak his mind, let out the words at the tip of his tongue—‘Why are we here?’—, the feeling that is bothering him to his core, the tacky sensation in his skin that warns him he’s being played. 

He hopes Eve and Duncan are luckier, that suspicion only spreads in Noah’s mind but has left the others unscathed. He lifts his eyes to connect with Rune’s, and he wishes he could read his mind. Does he see the same inconsistence as Noah? Does Rune see Noah as the imposter he is? 

Rune steps forward. Noah stays still as he approaches. Is it the sphinx preparing to devour him? Even so, Noah finds out he won’t move. He doesn’t want to move. Noah’s hands hang limp, the instinctive trembling gone. The shears slide out of his hol, and hits the ground with a muffled thump. It would be unfortunate to be questioned by Rune, as Noah won’t be able to hold himself together. If Rune demands answers, the words will spill out of him, from beginning to the end, every single detail and thought. Everything will be out for Rune to see. Some part of him desires to be uncovered, to be teared apart from his secret. The other part of him, though, speaks of survival.

However, Rune’s words don’t demand an answer. “I hate that I like how different you are.” 

Noah closes the distance between them, taking a fistful of Rune’s hoodie. He tugs at the fabric. Rune leans in, following his command. “I like it that you like it.” He smiles inside the intimacy of his mask.

Rune cocks his head to one side, reaching up to carefully remove Noah’s mask, revealing the cocky grin underneath. It hides well. A mask covering his pain, the things of his past he wants to erase. Rune  has mastered this art, and Noah hopes to be a good student. Noah reaches up, mirroring Rune’s movement, to tear the mask from the boy. He’s greeted by his rosy lips, the same ones he kissed barely a month ago, the ones that part slightly to break Noah’s armor.

“Don’t say anything, please.” Noah whispers, before the damage can be done. His smile is gone. The tip of Noah’s nose brushes against the boy’s lips, and he closes his eyes as he takes in his presence. The warmth, the vanilla smell of his hair sweetly swaying in his nostrils, an unmovable force. “When I woke up, I thought of you as a sphinx. You were the riddle I had to solve.”

“Did you solve it?” Rune whispers, and his breath caresses Noah’s cheeks.

Noah opens his eyes, staring straight at the darkness. “Sometimes I think I did.” He runs his free hand over Rune’s hoodie, appreciating the lean muscle underneath. Then he heads for his face, where he lingers for a second—his fingertips lightly tapping his cheekbone— before taking a fistful of black and red hair. He has pinned Rune down, holding onto him so as not to float away. “Sometimes I might prefer to be consumed. Before the parts of me that disintegrate can fade into nothingness.” 

Noah feels Rune’s hand trailing up his back, suddenly closing in his hair and slightly tugging back. He obeys, bringing his chin up, meeting Rune’s lips. Their kiss is not soft, it’s desperate. Not soon enough, Rune shoves Noah back, until his back hits the dusty wallpaper, a cloud wrapping their intertwined figures. Two shadows in the dark. 

Rune grabs Noah’s wrists, wrenching free from his hold, and pining them above Noah’s head. Rune’s lips travel to his jaw, below his ear, in his Adam’s apple… Not a single inch of skin is left undiscovered by his tender lips, which impatiently drinks Noah’s primal essence. Stripped of what makes him Noah, he’s just an animal seeking the immediate reward of pleasure. There will be consequences, this will complicate things, but Noah’ll be damned if he cares as Rune’s reverent kisses soften his hard edges. His hips sway with built-up desire, and turmoil asking to be unfold. 

Noah stays still as Rune takes both his wrists with one hand. His hold is not strong, just a playful reminder of the power Noah willingly gives him. So Noah obeys Rune’s desires, and he lets Rune control him, and his hands won’t move from above his head even if he can—Noah doesn’t want to break free. 

Rune’s hand slides inside the hoodie, caressing his abdomen. Shivers run down Noah’s back, and he closes his eyes, enjoying the lingering trail he leaves behind. 

The wood creaks, the soft thump of footsteps echoing in the silence of their kisses. A flash of light, blinding Noah, startling Rune as two naughty teens who’ve been caught red-handed. The boy turns around, shielding almost the entirety of Noah from the light, with one hand over his eyes. Noah dares to peek above Rune’s shoulder. The figure, half sheltered by their blindness, approaches them. 

The see it too late, the maniacal smile and the spray he holds at eye level. Rune bends down coughing and pressing his hands flat on his eyes. He collapses to the floor as he gasps for air. The tears shine in his cheeks.

Noah doesn’t lose any time. He keeps his head down, and tackles Sam with the entirety of his force. His opponent barely staggers, clearly more powerful than Riley’s body. Noah curses while he throws himself to the floor on the middle of the messed up room, extending his arm to reach the shears. His struggle lifts a cloud of dust that suffocates him. While his lungs contract helplessly to expel the particles, Sam turns Noah around, pining him with a knee to each side of his body. 

You are reading story There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children at novel35.com

The spray hits Noah like a tsunami. Suddenly, his eyes can’t stop watering from the incontrollable itch in his eyes. He keeps his eyes closed, willing his hands to stop where they linger, ready to rub at the pain. To make it go away. However, Noah knows better. 

“Rune, don’t rub it. Blink,” his voice sounds hoarse with effort, as if he’s talking through a wall made of pain, “Blink.” 

As he tries to obey his own command, his hand stretches over his head, blindly seeking the coldness of metal. He feels Sam’s horribly callous hands close around his throat. How can it feel so different? The terror clawing at his throat, and the pleasure of letting himself go. He can’t see Sam’s features with a curtain of tears over his eyes, but he can imagine it. So vivid in his mind that it scratches his brain like a fork running down porcelain. Like nails in blackboard. 

Sam’s hands are mercilessly choking the life out of him. With every millimeter, the distance between life and death closes up, until they’re practically superposed. The two faces of that exact moment. He kicks his feet, although he won’t be able to strike his objective. He knows with delirious clarity.

Behind his paralyzing fear, he hears sirens.

“I’m not supposed to kill you,” Sam says breathlessly, “but you won’t quietly wait for the cops.”

Noah’s hand closes on a handle. He swings the tool, hitting Sam on the temple. The time he feels the weight above him disappear, he bolts up, searching the blurry space with his arms flailing around. His hands seek to find the familiar warmth. He doesn’t wait to see Sam’s state.

“Rune,” he shouts, his voice raw and his throat tender.

“I’m here,” a weak voice responds.

The sirens are closing in, and they’ll bring about the people driving it. He sees the dizzying movement of a stain in his vision, and he decides that’s Rune. After confirming it with the familiar feeling of his hand holding Noah’s, he leads the boy to the stairs. 

The lights of the cars outside spill into the open door, bathing the entrance hall with blinking blue and red. Coming back to the path outside will lead them straight to the cops. Duncan and Eve will be gone by now. But they’ll be waiting in their arranged meeting point, the one Sam knows nothing about. So the back door it is. 

Once in the open, they run. The itching is starting to get manageable for Noah, although he’s still mostly blind. At his back, Rune is panting with the effort of keeping up with the agonic pain. No complaints come out of Rune’s mouth, even with the obvious pain he’s in. Noah doesn’t try to stop the admiration spreading in his stomach. He goads in it.

“Hang in there,” Noah whispers.

Noah’s clothes catch on the orange trees. The branches scratch his cheeks and his neck. Rune’s condition won’t be much better, he thinks while a needle punches his chest. He feels the anger build, creeping up where the fear is slowly receding. The screech of betrayal behind his eyes, filling everything with red.

Behind them, the sirens loudly announce their arrival. But they don’t stop running. 

As apologetic as Noah will be—once they’re safe— for dragging Rune as a rag doll, he’s making sure they stay alive first and foremost. 

You can find story with these keywords: There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children, Read There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children, There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children novel, There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children book, There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children story, There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children full, There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children Latest Chapter