Unhinged by Onley James

Adam had to pull over for Noah to throw up three more times on the way back to the city. Each time, he’d fall back into the passenger seat and Adam would hand him a wet wipe from the center console like he was a suburban soccer mom. It would have been funny if Noah could pull himself out of…whatever was happening to him.

He tried to push the memories back down, but he couldn’t. Every time he so much as blinked, he was right back in that fucking room with all those people. The dam walling off all those memories had finally ruptured and Noah was drowning.

He couldn’t escape it. Hands touching him, men hurting him, the sound of his own cries and the laughter that followed… It felt like it came from everywhere, like he was trapped in some house of mirrors where a threat lurked in every pane of glass with no way of knowing which threat was the real one.

He could smell that room, not as it was now but as it had been back then. The stench of cigarettes, sweat, stale beer, and men’s cologne…sex. He shouldn’t have known that smell back then. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t okay. Nobody should have had to endure that. But above it all—the strangers, the pain—the thing that was ripping him apart on the inside was his father’s voice. At first cajoling, promising toys and ice cream, then angry, then furious when he wouldn’t stop crying.

How had he buried that? How? What magical part of his brain had covered that up for years? When did he start to forget? How did he make it go back? He needed it to go back. He couldn’t stop crying. Not huge wracking sobs, just an endless stream of tears rolling down his cheeks against his will.

Once they were back at Adam’s house, he wouldn’t even let Noah call his job. Adam made the call, telling whoever was on the other line that Noah was sick and wouldn’t be in, his tone leaving no room for questioning. He removed Noah’s clothes and put him to bed but set up his laptop on the blanket beside him, putting on cartoons like he was a child. He felt like a child. He felt like that child. The child his father had handed over to be tortured and abused.

Holy shit. He was that child. That was him. His father did those things to him. He’d let others do those things, too. Had recorded them. Somewhere, there were videos. Videos other people could see. His stomach heaved but there was nothing left to throw up. Adam had left a metal trash can beside the bed anyway. Just in case.

Noah had known all these things had happened to him, had seen previews of what was to come, had filled in the blanks after seeing the video Adam handed him that night. But it wasn’t real to him, to his brain, just a concept, a thing that he only understood in abstract, like outer space. It was out there, somewhere, but he wasn’t likely to ever experience it. But now, there he was, floating through his memories with no oxygen, just waiting to die.

He tried to focus on the laptop. Darkwing Duck, Noah noted absently. But his real focus was on Adam’s voice. He paced downstairs on the phone, his voice strengthening and receding like waves as he approached the stairs only to walk back towards the kitchen. He was mad, arguing with somebody about the logistics of torturing Gary for the information they sought versus waiting to see what Calliope could find on the hard drives.

The conversation went back and forth, his anger growing to rage, his voice ratcheting higher with each passing minute. Then Adam was just gone, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Noah alone without so much as a goodbye. Part of him expected it. Who the fuck would want to deal with something like this? Noah didn’t and he was equipped with the necessary emotions to process it. But Adam wasn’t. He didn’t understand how Noah felt. He literally couldn’t. That wasn’t Adam’s fault.

In the silence, the voices in Noah’s head—the laughter, the orders—only grew louder until Noah thought he might scream. He threw the covers off, padding down the stairs in his underwear, heading to the most logical place for Adam to store medications. His bathroom. He had to be quick. He didn’t know when or if Adam would return quickly. He wrenched open the medicine cabinet, making a noise of frustration when he saw nothing but Advil and a box of condoms. There was nothing in the drawers or under the sink either.

He went to the kitchen next, opening every drawer and cabinet except the one over the refrigerator. That would be the last resort. Adam had to have alcohol there somewhere. When he opened the freezer, he gave a triumphant cry. A bottle of top shelf vodka, still sealed. Noah didn’t think twice about cracking it open, taking two heavy pulls, letting them burn their way to his stomach, praying that this would put the lid back on his memories like it had before. He took it back to bed with him, clutching the frigid glass to his chest as he continued to watch cartoons, truly having no interest in anything heavier than Rugrats and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

The more he drank, the more he enjoyed the cartoons of his childhood. By the time Adam’s apartment door swung open, Noah was well and truly drunk. There was a strange rustling sound as he walked back upstairs, stopping short when he saw the vodka bottle. “I see you found my brother’s stash.”

Noah shrugged, body numb. “Which brother? You have, like, twenty.”

Adam snickered. “Archer. Our degenerate gambler. A role he takes a lot of pride in.” He set his two plastic grocery bags on the bed, scooting the laptop out of his way to sit. “How drunk are you?”

Noah held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Pretty drunk. You left me.”

Adam didn’t flinch at the accusation in his words. “I was mad. Blackout mad. I knew I couldn’t control it, and you were already stressed enough, so I went and drove around and listened to some angry music. Then I called my dad and asked him what I should do about you.”

“Do about me?” Noah echoed, wondering if that only sounded harsh because his brain was pickled.

Adam sighed. “Not…about you. For you? I don’t know how to help you through this. I want to help you.”

Noah’s eyes filled with tears at the sincerity in his voice. “What did he say?”

Adam sneered. “A bunch of shit about recovered memories and you needing to process them with a trained therapist and that I wasn’t qualified to deal with what you’re going through.”

Noah’s heart shriveled in his chest. “Oh.”

Adam scoffed. “Yeah, oh. So, I hung up on him and called Calliope.”

Noah swiped at the tears on his cheek, wondering how he had any left. “What did she say?”

Adam pulled out his phone, reading from it like he’d made some kind of list. “She said to wrap you in a…blanket burrito? To buy your favorite things to eat. To hold you if you wanted it. To leave you alone if you didn’t. She said if you wanted to stay in bed all day and cry, I should let you, but that I shouldn’t leave you alone to deal with this. So, I stopped at the store and then came back as fast as I could.”

Noah’s chest ached. Adam had called two people to find out what humans did when other humans were hurting. Was that romantic? What the fuck did Noah know? It felt sweet. “What’s in the bags?”

Adam brightened up a bit. “I didn’t know what you liked, so”—he upended the bags in the center of the bed—“I got a little of everything.”

A small laugh escaped as a pile of candy appeared between them on the bed. So much chocolate—the cheap kind and the expensive stuff Noah could never afford—plus Blow Pops, Ring Pops, Twizzlers, Swedish fish. It was every kid’s fantasy come true.

“If you don’t like any of this, just tell me what you want and I can have it delivered here in an hour. Anything. And if you’re hungry, we can order from anywhere you want.”

“This is good. I like all these things. Except the Swedish fish. Those are all yours.” To prove his point, he grabbed a chocolate bar and unwrapped it, taking a bite, surprised to find he was hungry and the sugary treat hit the spot.

Adam took the bottle of vodka from Noah’s lap, but he didn’t put it away, just took a swig before setting it back down between them.

“You’re not going to lecture me on drinking my problems away?” Noah asked.

“No. If this is what you need to cope, then I’ll keep you safe while you do it.”

Noah’s heart ached, and his chin wobbled for the thousandth time that day. “Thanks.”

Adam nodded. After a minute, he said, “My parents abused me when I was little, before my dad adopted me. It was bad. Netflix documentary level bad. But even back then, I knew I was different because the others felt sad and scared and cried. But I just felt rage.”

“You remember all of it?” Noah asked, both sad for Adam and a little jealous that he’d escaped the torment of having to feel the way Noah did.

“I remember it all in that hazy way people remember things that happened a long time ago. But I don’t feel any kind of way about it. I can’t. I’m not built that way. But you are and I’m not going to judge you for how you get through it, you know?” Adam asked with a shrug before adding, “Besides, I tend to kill my problems, so there’s that.”

Once more, Noah smiled in spite of himself, just a little. “Can we order pizza?”

Adam met his gaze. “We can fly to Chicago and eat pizza at Lou Malnati’s if it will make you smile,” he promised.

Noah somehow both laughed and sobbed at the same time, his brain unable to process two separate but equal feelings at once. “I don’t want to put pants on,” he finally managed.

Adam leaned into Noah’s space. “Good. I like you without pants.”

He was close enough to kiss Noah but then hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch him. He cupped Adam’s face and closed the distance, pressing their mouths together in a chaste kiss. Adam looked relieved. Noah felt a little bit relieved, too. “I’m sorry about all this.”

“Don’t apologize. I want you here, with me, always.” He scanned Noah’s face, smirking. “Even covered in snot and vomit.”

Noah wasn’t even offended. He was sure he looked and smelled awful. “If you keep feeding me candy and pizza on top of this vodka, there’s a very good chance you’ll be cleaning up my puke again before morning.”

“Whatever it takes,” Adam promised, taking another swig from the bottle before using an app on his phone to order the pizza. “Let’s go watch this on the big TV downstairs. You can bring the blanket and your emotional support vodka.”

Adam bagged up the candy and took the comforter, too, stating his fear of Noah falling down the stairs. He wasn’t wrong. Noah clung to the railing, his steps wobbly. Once downstairs, Adam turned cartoons back on and wrapped Noah in his blanket burrito before sitting on the end of the couch and patting his leg for Noah to join him.

Noah knew he expected him to lie down on the couch with his head on his leg like they’d done last night but, instead, he just crawled into his lap fully burritoed. Adam seemed surprised, but when Noah rested his cheek against his chest, Adam just tucked him beneath his chin.

“Is this okay?” Noah asked hesitantly, even though he knew Adam would never say no to him.

“This is perfect.”

* * *

The next morning, Noah woke to a room filled with sunshine and groaned, certain his head would crack like an egg at the slightest touch. He felt like he had to peel himself off the sheets just to roll over. Beside him, Adam sprawled naked, face down with a pillow over his head. Noah had no recollection of why or how Adam lost his clothes. He couldn’t remember much of anything after he’d eaten his body weight in pizza.

Noah’s underwear was still on. If he’d had any kind of sex with Adam, it was either unreciprocated—which seemed unlikely—or Noah had put his underwear back on afterwards—which seemed even more unlikely given his inebriated state last night.

Adam could just like sleeping naked. Noah definitely didn’t mind it. Adam in clothes was hot, but Adam naked… His body was art.

Noah couldn’t stop himself from running a hand along the sleek expanse of his back, trailing fingertips down his spine, following the generous swell of his ass down one hairy thigh before moving back up to start the process over again. He loved touching Adam, and his chest felt full at the knowledge that, somehow, Adam’s fucked up brain had taken one look at Noah and decided his equally fucked up brain was what he wanted.

Yesterday had been one of the worst days of his life but Adam had chased his demons away. For now, at least. It was like he’d had a vivid nightmare that, upon waking, disappeared, leaving a lingering sense of dread. It wasn’t over. At some point, Noah was going to have to face what happened to him, but not today. Today, he just wanted to enjoy the peace, hungover or not.

He rose, kneeling between Adam’s splayed legs before blanketing his body over him. Adam didn’t even stir. Noah slid his hands beneath his chest, resting his cheek between Adam’s shoulder blades. The warmth of his skin bled into Noah’s, thawing the chunk of ice lodged in his belly for the last however many hours. That was where he stayed, letting the steady rise and fall of Adam’s back and the reassuring thud of his heartbeat lull him back to sleep.

Noah dozed there for a while before he felt Adam begin to rouse. His arm rose up to take the pillow off his head, squinting as the light hit his face. He tossed the pillow then reached both arms behind him to cup Noah’s ass. “Morning.”

He loved Adam’s sleep-soaked gravelly voice.

Noah placed kisses wherever his lips fell along Adam’s skin. “Morning.”

He gave Noah’s ass a gentle squeeze, then rolled, dumping him beside him on the mattress. Before Noah could even be mad, Adam’s mouth was on his, kissing him slow and deep in a way no two people should ever kiss before brushing their teeth. Especially after last night, but Noah didn’t care.

“Are you feeling better?” Adam asked, kissing his cheek, then his ear and his shoulder. There was no heat to it, no promise of something more.

Noah gave a hesitant nod. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Good,” Adam said before rolling onto his back, stretching with enough force for Noah to hear his joints crack. “Wanna shower with me and go get breakfast before I head to my dad’s?”

“You have to go to your dad’s?” Noah asked, that feeling of unease creeping closer.

“I dropped the hard drive for Calliope last night when I was getting the candy rations. She downloaded it this morning. It’s every bit as horrific as we thought it would be. But it’s…recent. She’s trying to identify the victim and has isolated the faces of those who participated, and she’s running them through facial recognition programs. My father doesn’t anticipate any problems running down their identities. He wants to put together some sort of strategy for eliminating them. We’ve never gone after this many people in one go. If we’re not careful, somebody might start putting the pieces together.”

Noah waited for the horror to overtake him once more, but it didn’t. There was only that vague sick feeling of too much pizza and vodka. “I want to go with you.”

Adam twisted onto his side, one hand propping up his head and the other resting on Noah’s belly. “What? No. I don’t want you triggering yourself again.”

Noah shook his head vehemently. “I’m fine. I’m good. There’s still a chance that some of those men could be the same men…from when it was me. Those impulses don’t just go away with age, and after a decade of not being caught, I imagine these guys are pretty cocky, like you said.”

Adam studied Noah’s face like he was searching for the right answer. “My whole family is going to be there. Well, minus Aiden. I don’t know if you’re ready for six of my family members at once.”

Noah shrugged, propping himself up, mirroring Adam’s pose. “If I’m yours—just yours—like you say I am, aren’t I going to have to meet them all eventually?” A thought struck Noah like a physical blow. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

Adam frowned, then leaned forward to press his forehead to Noah’s. “Nothing is going to change my mind.”

Noah flopped backwards. “You didn’t sign up for my mental breakdown.”

“I didn’t sign up to be a member of a family of killers either. I didn’t sign up to drag my brother Archer out of a thousand bars or the twins out of kink clubs or sit through a handful of boring lectures about cell regeneration in rats or quantum physics,” Adam said. “I did sign up for you. I chose you. Mental breakdown and all. Eventually, you’re going to see that I have my own kind of breakdowns…and mine sometimes end with a body count.”

“But only people who deserve it, right?” Noah asked.

Adam nodded. “The code is non-negotiable. My father would put one of us down for breaking it. He says once we cross that line, we can’t go back.”

“Put you down? Kill you?” Noah asked, that icy feeling in his belly returning once more.

Adam didn’t seem even remotely fazed by the thought of his father killing him for breaking some arbitrary code he’d created.

“We’re only useful to society if we follow the code. If we turn our backs on it, then we can’t be trusted. We become the monsters. My father will act accordingly. And my brothers will help.”

“Jesus.”

Adam grinned. “Still want to meet the family?”

Did he? Part of him had no interest in meeting four more people who would treat him the way Asa and Avi had, but he also needed to know. He needed to figure out who had done those things to him and probably other children. If that meant putting himself in the Mulvaney family’s cross hairs then that was what he needed to do. He wasn’t leaving Adam—not ever—and if Adam came with a family of psycho killers…so be it.