Page 109 of Best Served Cold

He made another face but sank back in his bed.

I busied myself with getting the covers over him and making sure he was comfortable.

“Are you gonna be weird on Monday?” he asked drowsily.

“No. Are you?”

“Probably.” His soft chuckle tickled my ear. “But that’s nothing new.”

“Nothing to be weird about. Just worry about getting some sleep and recovering tomorrow.”

“’Kay.” He nuzzled into his pillow and closed his eyes. “Night, Zane.”

“Night, Noah.”

A soft smile played over his lips. Cautiously, I reached for him, but paused when my hand hovered above his forehead. I wanted to brush his hair back and maybe kiss his cheek so he wouldn’t feel so alone when he fell asleep. Was that weird?

I hadn’t hesitated when I’d blown him or fucked him, but now I was standing in his room like a creeper, my hand almost touching his face while I freaked out over whether or not a kiss on his cheek or a soft caress would make things weird between us.

Noah might hate his brain, but he wasn’t alone. Mine was equally as fucked up. I was just better at hiding it.

Dropping my hand, I gathered up the dishes and padded out of his room, flipping off the light.

Becca met me at the end of the hallway before I could decide if making a break for it and just running out the door was an option.

She took the dishes and nodded for me to follow her into the kitchen.

I did, my mind already spinning as I tried to preemptively figure out what she was going to say or attempt to talk to me about.

“You work with Noah?” she asked once she’d put the dishes in the sink.

“Yeah. We’re on the same crew.”

“Do you have a twin brother?”

“I do.” I looked around the tiny room. The space was neat and clean, but the counters were littered with baby things like pacifiers and bottles. The fridge was covered with toddler art and photos of Noah and Becca over the years, as well as ones of them with two dark-haired kids that looked a lot like Noah.

“He’s mentioned you guys a few times. And another guy, Gray?”

“Our buddy.” I returned my attention to her. “He’s on our crew too.”

“Did Noah say anything to you about why he went out drinking tonight?” She wrung her hands in front of her.

“Not really.” I didn’t feel right talking to her about his struggles with his sexuality. Everything he’d told me tonight was because he was drunk and obviously going through some shit. I’d keep his secrets, even if he didn’t remember he told them to me.

“He’s been… He gets in these moods…” She chewed on her lip.

“He told me about his depression and anxiety.”

Her eyes rounded. “Really? He never talks to anyone about that.”

“He didn’t say much, just that he has them. Is he on meds or something?”

She shook her head, her eyes clouding. “We grew up…”

“He told me about that too.” I slipped my hands in my pockets and toyed with the lining distractedly.

It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable talking with her, it was more that I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. I wasn’t good at the talking thing, and it was obvious she loved Noah and was worried about him.

---