Chapter 30: 30. TRUST

He would run away, if he had the courage to leave everything behind, including the promise too Riley.

The truth is his feet are stuck to the ground, and his fear prevents him from unclenching his fists. He discards all of the excuses he comes up with, too obvious, too selfish… But he needs to go now. Before the pain in Duncan’s face can completely disarm him.

“I’m sorry,” Duncan grabs Paws and caresses its head, “I forgot you didn’t remember,” He laughs, but there’s not humor in its agony, “Ironic.”

Noah releases a shaky breath, “I’m sorry.”

Duncan shakes his head, “No. That asshole is the one that has to apologize.” He kisses Paws’ head, “Right, baby? We’re not gonna let mommy’s killer to roam free.”

Eve comes back with a clear plastic box. Noah’s grateful to have something to keep his mind on, so he quickly takes hold of the kit, searching for antiseptic and band-aids. He hopes nobody can see his trembling hands. 

For each uninvited vision of himself attacking and murdering a beautiful blonde girl, he counterattacks bringing forward his own physical suffering. He reaches for the remnants of pain at tearing open his own wound, or the itching of the pepper spray. He remembers riding Rune’s bike, the very real possibility of letting go, the hurt that would follow as he fell in that dark road. So he lets violence drown violence.

He longs for the destructive smoke in his lungs, for a bottle of cheap vodka with the aftertaste of cologne. He takes cotton swabs, pouring antiseptic on them. He approaches Rune, careful to avoid his gaze, “It won’t hurt, I promise.” 

Noah taps the cotton swabs on the scratches. Then, he covers them with band-aids. He stays at a cautious distance to Rune’s face, as he can’t bear the warmth of the boy’s body in the coldness that has taken over his stolen body. 

“I’m tired.” Noah places the box in the improvised workstation—an old metal table full of tools, metal rack, and some pallets hanging on the wall—, and walks toward the door. “I’ll call a taxi. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Aren’t you going to tend to your own cuts?” Noah can see the narrowing of her eyes in the suspicious edge of her voice.

“I have products at home.” The hot night slaps him as he walks out, although it’s not quite able to take away the shivers, or his hair standing on end.

The city lights engulfs the silvery moonlight. But in this isolated building, the moon provides enough light to illuminate the gravel of the path, and the metal planks. A crunching sound besides his own alerts him of company. A hand wrapping around his wrist confirms who it is. However, turning to face the pale boy with rosy lips and enticing eyes proves to be a little too much for his crumbling control. 

“Why do you break down each time someone mentions Leo’s murder?” 

How can a question be spot on, but wrong at the same time? Noah swallows, willing for his voice to be even, “Leo’s case hits home.” Her name is mud in Noah’s tongue, like he letting it go for the first time in ages.

“Natalie?”

Noah is tempted to lie. He shakes his head. “Sometimes, I read the news, and the proof is convincing. Noah has to be the killer.” He has to be the killer.

Rune doesn’t respond. His hold is strong, preventing Noah from wrenching free and running away. He’d probably do it.

“But…” Shivers run down his spine, for the first time considering the conversation at the Nyx. The things it changed. “Have you told Duncan about the Nyx?” He hopes this will take some pressure from Rune’s undivided attention.

“No.” After a pause, “He’s not in his right mind.”

Noah nods. “He won’t believe it, anyway.” 

As much as Duncan loves his sister, as much as the news love to talk about her, they won’t like to discover how human and imperfect a victim can be. They’re angels, and anything that taints their martyr persona is a no-no. But they’re people, after all.

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Noah tilts his head to Rune. “They’ll burn her at the stake if anyone finds out.”

Rune’s silence demands even more from Noah. He swallows, frantically searching for the words. “Noah wasn’t Leo’s boyfriend. You heard it yourself. If the cops got the information wrong, the investigation might be botched.”

“Noah loved Leo. I can see jealousy driving him to murder.”

No. It’s all wrong. He remembers the blond curls, bouncing as she laughed. The brightness of her eyes as she talked about criminal psychology, her hands gesturing for emphasis. The happiness in Noah, the excitement of talking to her… He can see love, he might even mistake it for romantic love if he watches under a rosy lens. However, “Noah is gay.” 

“How do you know so many things?”

“I read it. It was a small publication.”

“You believe it?”

Noah turns to face Rune. His voice is even when he says, “There’s a way we can know.” He searches for a twitch under Rune’s mask. “We can figure it out. We look into that rich guy, and we find what’s to find.” His breathes are quick and shallow. “If there’s something to discover, it’s worth the try. If we don’t, we won’t know what really happened.”

He tugs on the wrist, his brow knitting. “Duncan will find Noah Davies. We have to be sure before he does something we’ll regret.” Before Duncan takes away Noah’s opportunity to take his body back. 

Rune takes Noah home. Rose’s smile falters when she sees the blemishes, and the cuts in his face and hands, his hair is matted and Duncan’s flannel shirt—casual clothing that doesn’t really match Noah’s style. Rose narrows her eyes and points up and down. Noah shakes his head, not bothering to stop in his way to the bathroom.

He can manage to sleep a few hours before his alarm goes off at 7 am. He almost jumps off the bed, afraid he won’t be able to get up if he allows himself to think about the day ahead. He doesn’t remember what he dreamt, a little relief to the anxiety building up in him. 

Rose is waiting for him, a cup of cereal in the table. “I’m sorry, Rose. Sam was being an asshole again.”

She grimaces from above her cup of coffee. “I told you Rune was bad news. The toxic ex is included in the package.”

Noah clicks his tongue. “He’s as imperfect as any human should be.” 

They eat in silence, Rose distractedly scrolling on her phone as Noah repeats the previous night in a never-ending loop. Noah didn’t give Rune an explanation. He doesn’t know when the boy will demand answers again. Even more, what he’ll be able to say. Noah is running out of excuses for his strange behavior—maybe normal inside of Noah’s turmoil, but definitely weird for those who know Riley—, and Rune’s curiosity hasn’t been fulfilled yet. He remembers Duncan’s eyes, filled with grief. For his usually loud bad words, the softness with which he talked about Leo is unsettling. What his rage hides, he understands. 

The sun is bright and high above when he steps out. He cuffed his usual wide jeans, combining them with a plain T-shirt and Vans skate shoes, recovered from Riley’s closet while his bloody sneakers are in the washer. The messenger bag is hanging from his shoulder. It’s empty—except of a book and the switchblade—, but the weight brings him comfort. He clutches his parka in one hand.

Rune brings the bike for the trip. His backpack, containing Noah’s helmet and gloves, looks like a turtle case. He’d laugh, if the nervous pain in his stomach didn’t warn him of the current situation. Noah takes the backpack from the boy, putting on his equipment and getting on the rear seat. What once felt unnatural now seems like a reunion with your old pet, or the returning home from a long time away. He taps on Rune’s chest, and the bike accelerates, leaving behind the apartment complex, and the city. 

The rush of the wind is a break from the suffocating heat. He moves his hips forward to fit Rune’s lower back in between his thighs while maintaining his back straight. The more he rides, the more he finds himself adjusting his position to better adapt to the force of the engine. He sways his body in every curve, his torso following the movement of Rune’s. 

He’s flying again. The scenery moves in blurry stripes of different depths of green and grey. He still remembers the little town following the road that surrounds The Pinch. It’s just that he wasn’t acquainted with the curvy road, or the geography of the region. Now, he can see the folding road in the mountain as they slowly leave it behind. 

Soon enough, Rune parks his bike. He can’t delay the encounter anymore. Maybe he always knew he would see his father again as he glanced at the cluttered desk. Yet the fact that they’re walking towards the police station— a helmet in his hand— the reality of it all overwhelms him.

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