Page 71 of Beau and the Beast

They walked in silence for a few beats.

"Why are you being so nice, Lincoln? Are you fucking sick or something? Head injury?"

Lincoln sighed. "I still can't find your brother. And he'd murder me if he knew I let you live off of Cup Noodles."

Noah knew he should've felt indignant in that moment, maybe felt like his pride had been wounded by the implication that he needed Lincoln's help.

He would've been able to finish the grocery trip alone. Yes, it would've been miserable and yes, it would've been expensive, but he would've gotten it done.

But all he could feel in that moment as he walked beside Lincoln, dragging the case of beer behind him, was thankful.

When they got up to the apartment, Lincoln pressed in without asking, setting the groceries on the counter and beginning to put them away. Noah took a seat at the table, grateful just to rest for a minute.

"You can't live off potato chips and ramen," Lincoln scolded. "You'll make yourself sick."

"I'm durable. Don't worry about it."

"You'll feel like shit. You have to eat real food."

Noah rolled his eyes.

Lincoln was done unpacking in just a few minutes. He squatted down to retrieve his beer and then moved to leave.

"Anyway, eat some fucking vegetables like a grownup and take a taxi to a real grocery store next time. If you need me, you know where to find me."

"Hey, don't go so quick," Noah said, shocked that he actuallywantedLincoln to stay longer. The apartment had been disquietingly lonely without Beau around, and even though Noah hated Lincoln's guts, he was being inexplicably kind to Noah. Nobody had actually looked him in the eyes in days. It was good to feel like there was someone else there with him.

Lincoln assessed him warily before setting the beer on the counter and taking a seat at the little kitchen table.

"Have you been looking for Beau?" Noah asked after a minute.

Lincoln nodded. "No luck, though. It's like he vanished."

"It seemed like a secret security thing when I talked to him," Noah said—immediately realizing that he wasn't sure whether or not that was true. The details of their short conversation had gone hazy in his mind and it was entirely possible that he'd started fabricating things because they matched the narrative he had in his head.

"Haveyouthought about looking for him? You're better at computers and...” Lincoln said, flourishing his hand in the air, “stuff."

Noah snorted. "Yeah, you think?"

"You could use what you know, is all I'm saying."

Lincoln reallydidlook different. He sounded different, too, like something had drained him of all the cocky bravado that puffed him up, made him larger than life.

"Are you ok, Lincoln? You seriously look like a mess."

Lincoln shook his head slowly. "I'm fucked up about this thing," he said, frowning. "You're not?"

Noah had been worried, sure. But he'd told himself time and time again that Beau knew what he was doing, that he was an adult who could make his own choices, that he'd asked Noah to trust him and so that's what he was going to do. Lincoln's words the last time they spoke, though, had been like a small wound—uncomfortable at first but then growing, becoming infected, getting worse and worse until it was impossible to ignore.

So maybe Noah wouldn't say that he was "fucked up" about Beau's absence but... he was significantly less comfortable with it than he had been two weeks ago.

“That shit you said to me before really got to me,” Lincoln said, hanging his head. “If I had just gone with him like I said I was going to, at least I’d know what was going on right now instead of fucking around in the dark looking for him.”

“What have you even been doing to find him?” Noah asked.

“Calling his work in case anyone’s heard from him. Calling the hospitals every few days. Hell, Noah, I’ve even been going to the stupid park he likes the most. I know it’s a long shot, but I just keep hoping…”

“I’ll do some digging online,” Noah promised.

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