Unhinged by Onley James

Noah had almost made it to his trailer when a beer bottle crashed against its side inches from his head, beer and glass hitting his skin. Noah might have startled if not for Bailey’s little pink pills. It wasn’t the first time a bottle had been chucked at his head, wasn’t even the first time that month. People in cheap strip clubs often made poor decisions.

“Hey, you little shit. Don’t you run from me.”

Gary whirled him around and slammed him up against the trailer, his head thudding hard enough to make him see little cartoon stars. “Hey, Gary. What’s up?” Noah asked, a giggle falling from his lips.

They must have looked comical to outside observers. Gary was a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, and his meaty hand around Noah’s throat might have been able to encircle his whole neck if he wasn’t pressed against the metal siding of his Airstream.

Noah’s stomach soured at the stench of sweat and beer and bad breath coming from Gary, who was an inch from his face. “Did you take it?”

Noah frowned, then blinked, forcing himself to concentrate. What was in those pills? “Take what?”

His head jerked to the side as Gary slapped him in the face hard enough to send the world spinning. “My backpack. Did you take it from my office?”

Noah could feel himself grinning, then laughing, but he couldn’t stop. “I didn’t even work tonight. I’ve been out with friends. Why would I steal a backpack?” He schooled his face into a serious expression. “What was in it? Was it your sense of humor?”

Once more, Gary slapped him.

“If you keep doing that, I’m going to make you buy me dinner,” Noah taunted, licking his top teeth mockingly, stumbling as Gary released him abruptly.

“Your dad was a friend, but you’re pushing your luck. If I find out it was you, I’m gonna bury you in this tin can you call a home. You hear me, fucker?”

Before Noah could formulate a response, Gary turned, trudging back towards the entrance of the club.

Noah managed to get into the Airstream, shoving the flimsy lock in place. He gave another cursory look through the window to make sure Gary was gone before heading to the ugly floral couch in the tiny living area and popping the bench seat off, pulling the ugly camo backpack from its hiding spot.

Gary was a fucking moron. Noah had swiped it last night, and he spent so much time fucking his dancers he hadn’t even noticed it was missing until almost twenty-four hours later. He knew exactly what was in the backpack. A fuck ton of cash, all fake, a Ruger snub nose revolver, some scraps of paper, and his keys.

The keys were what he was after. He’d already made molds and taken them to Kevin at the key shop to have copies made. He’d also made a copy of Gary’s license, hoping his address was current. Somewhere in Gary’s house was the key to solving Noah’s mystery. A shudder wracked his body, like somebody had walked over his grave.

He’d planned to put the backpack back where he’d found it, but then Bailey and her girlfriend had conned him into hitting the club. Drinking, dancing, and partying seemed like a much better prospect than sitting in his beat up trailer, obsessing over his current project. He didn’t regret his decision either. If he hadn’t gone out, he never would have kissed Adam, felt his hands on his face, had him looking at him with that same overwhelming intensity he had the first night they’d spoken.

The night he’d tried to kill him. That night had changed everything. In some ways, everything was now so much worse, but some things were better, too. He no longer felt guilty for not saving his father. He now knew the truth about what happened to him as a child, for better or worse. Mostly worse. Definitely worse. Maybe not all of it. But enough.

What he couldn’t remember was probably best left buried, but that didn’t mean he was going to let it go. Because the things he did remember…well, they were fucking awful. Nightmarish shit that no child should have to endure, and Noah didn’t know much, but he knew he wasn’t alone. His father hadn’t been alone either.

Noah shook the thoughts away. He didn’t want to think about that tonight. He wanted to think about Adam’s lips on his and the way he’d sounded when he said he couldn’t stop thinking about him. It didn’t seem real. Noah was nothing special, small in stature, slender build, definitely no six-pack. He had blah brown eyes and freckles.

Adam was a fucking runway model. He used to be anyway. He looked more like a rock star with his inky black hair and painted fingernails and lashes so black it looked like he was wearing eyeliner. And those blue eyes, so pale they were almost white. He didn’t seem real. It was like somebody had ripped him from a teen drama. The bad boy. The supermodel. The killer.

Noah made his way back to the bed that took up the back half of his trailer, stripping down to his underwear before falling face first into the mattress, Adam still on his mind.

He supposed wanting to fuck his father’s killer was a level of fucked up that would probably require years of therapy that Noah couldn’t afford. But Noah had felt something between them that very first night. He’d known the instant Adam had taken control of the situation, had felt the balance in power shift even with Noah holding the gun. Adam could have killed him at any time. In the moment, that thought was as exhilarating as heroin. Sometimes, he wished he had killed him. Death seemed peaceful where Noah’s life was chaos. Death seemed preferable to loneliness. And Noah couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t lonely. Had he ever felt like somebody cared?

He rubbed his face on his pillow like he could wipe away his depression. He’d rather think of Adam. Adam with his big warm hands cupping his face and just moving him where he wanted him, like Noah had been made just for Adam’s pleasure. What did pleasuring Adam look like? His dick hardened. It definitely wanted to know the answer, too.

Even tonight, Adam had taken charge immediately, not because he wanted to throw his weight around or because he had some kind of alpha male complex. Adam just naturally dominated a space. And, God help him, Noah liked it.

Or maybe it was the drugs talking. Maybe sober Noah would find Adam saying he was probably going to hurt him not sexy, but, for tonight, Noah chose to fall asleep with a smile on his lips, replaying the memory of Adam’s kisses until he finally dozed off.

* * *

Noah woke to the hinges of his trailer door protesting. He jerked upright, his heart hammering in his chest as he watched a large figure stalk closer. Gary. He scrambled into the corner of his mattress but then ran out of space. It was too late to hide, there was only one way in or out. He slammed his hand down on the light, the forty watt bulb not taking away the horror of the situation but giving it a much more cinematic feel, like a Stanley Kubrick film.

Noah wasn’t sure which of them looked more shocked. Him or Adam. When Adam’s face came into view, a shock of awareness ran through Noah, part of him excited but the other half furious he’d just scared the shit out of him. “Did you just break into my house?”

Adam frowned, turning back to look at the door like Noah might be talking to somebody else. When he looked back, he shrugged. “Technically, I just pulled really hard and it opened.”

Noah’s mouth fell open at the matter-of-fact tone in Adam’s voice. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”

Adam crawled onto Noah’s bed, like it was a given he’d end up there. “I did knock. You didn’t answer.”

Noah pulled his pillow into his lap, hugging it, wondering if he was dreaming or hallucinating for the second time that night. “Maybe I didn’t want to see you. Did that even occur to you?” he asked, sounding unconvincing even to his own ears.

Adam’s brows furrowed together as he leaned into Noah’s space. “No, it didn’t. Why wouldn’t you want to see me?”

“Um, it's, like, four in the morning? I was sleeping? I don’t actually know you?” Noah countered.

“You knew me earlier. That was you underneath me, right?”

Noah gripped his pillow tighter. “And you took that to mean you have an engraved invitation to my house?”

Adam actually seemed to be pondering the question, like he wasn’t certain of his own motives. Finally, he said, “You said you were home. I knocked. You didn’t answer. I thought maybe you’d overdosed. I needed to see for myself you were alive.”

Noah screwed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I’m alive.”

Adam didn’t leave, just moved closer. “Why would you do a drug when you didn’t even know what it was?”

Noah shrugged. “What are you, the morality police? You kill people, like, as a hobby.”

“It’s more like community service,” Adam said, his expression blank.

Noah blinked at him before shaking his head. “I can’t figure out what your deal is. I can never tell if you’re making fun of me or if you just have zero idea of what’s considered appropriate behavior.”

Adam reached out and took Noah’s hand, looking at him with a potency that made him swallow audibly. “I’m well versed in how to behave in polite society. My father made very sure of that. But…that’s for other people, not you.”

Noah tried to pull his hand away. “I don’t deserve politeness?”

Adam’s brow furrowed, seemingly growing frustrated. “No, you don’t deserve the fake version of me. You know who I am… What I am. I don’t have to be fake around you.”

Noah should have been terrified of the intensity of Adam’s words, the way he stared at Noah like he saw something…magical. Maybe Adam was high? “I know you murdered my father. I know you’ve killed people. I don’t know who you are. I just know what you’ve done. That can’t be who you are.”

Adam seemed almost hurt by Noah’s words. He definitely seemed confused. “But it is. I was raised for this. We all were.”

Noah pondered Adam’s words. “You were raised to kill?”

“We were raised to level the playing field. To right the wrongs of the justice system. There are a lot of bad people in this world and the law rarely makes the right call. We do our homework. We save lives. We keep people safe.”

Noah should tell Adam to go. He’d seen enough murder documentaries to know a sociopath when he saw one, knew anybody who looked at him the way Adam did was probably batshit crazy. But he wasn’t wrong. Killing Noah’s father, no matter how painful it had seemed at the time, had most definitely saved lives. It had saved Noah. He just hadn’t remembered that until he’d forced Adam’s hand and those memories had started floating to the surface.

His skin crawled just thinking of him. He had no idea how or why he’d turned his father into a saint after his death. He’d definitely been a monster. Now, his memories were the monster, lurking in the most unlikely of corners, popping up when Noah least expected and tearing him apart.

Sometimes, it was like it had happened to somebody else, but other days, it was like it was still going on. Sometimes, the only way to quiet the voices was to swallow some pills, drink some alcohol. Sometimes, the drugs were his only safe space.

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you,” Adam said with such sincerity that Noah couldn’t help but smile.

“You just saw me a few hours ago.”

Adam flopped on his back, making himself at home on Noah’s bed, looking way better than he should there. “It wasn’t enough. I needed to see you more.”

“You know I’m not going to have sex with you, right?”

Adam’s gaze darted away from Noah and back again, his heavy black brows furrowing once more. “Okay.”

“So, if that’s why you’re here, you should go,” Noah prompted.

Adam’s brows raised. “But…that’s not why I’m here. So, I’m gonna stay. Okay?”

Noah could only stare at Adam, who was pulling his shoes off and then his jeans, tossing them over the edge of the mattress. “Why are you taking your clothes off?”

“Did you want me to sleep with my boots on?”

Noah’s hands gesticulated wildly. “Why did you take your pants off?”

“Chafing,” Adam said, deadpan.

“You’re certifiable. Like chasing butterflies, bats in the belfry, not all there.”

“That’s rude. I am a sociopath. Words hurt, you know.” Noah opened his mouth to apologize when Adam grinned. “I’m kidding. Do you have more questions or can we go to sleep now?”

Noah’s brain was turning a mile a minute. “Don’t you live in a mansion on the other side of town?”

Adam shook his head with a smile. “No, my dad does. I live in a studio apartment on the other side of town.”

“And why can’t you go sleep there?”

Adam shrugged. “Because you’re not there and I want to be with you.”

Noah blinked at him stupidly. “I—” He broke off. Why was he fighting this? He’d been thinking of nothing but Adam since they parted ways hours ago. “Yeah, okay. You win. Let’s go to sleep. Don’t get handsy,” Noah ordered, secretly hoping he would.

Adam grinned, slipping his way under the covers and holding the comforter up for Noah to do the same. Before he could do anything more, Adam slipped his arm behind Noah’s neck, drawing him against him. Noah let himself rest his head on Adam’s chest, noting absently that it was a different shirt than earlier. Beneath his ear, Adam’s heartbeat thudded steadily, luring Noah into a light doze.

“What’s that?” Adam asked.

Noah’s eyes flew open, looking to Adam, who was staring at Noah’s ceiling. He tried wriggling out of Adam’s grip, but he held him in place. “It’s nothing. Just a project.”

Adam’s gaze cut to his. “I know a murder board when I see one.”

Noah glanced up at the ceiling where he’d tacked up numerous pictures, paperwork, articles, and pictures of possible suspects, connecting them all with red string. “I’m not lying. It’s a project.”

“One involving your father?”

Noah looked up at his father’s picture in the center of his ceiling. “Yeah, something like that.”

“You do know I’m not going to stop asking until you tell me, right?” Adam asked.

Noah sighed. “I’ll make you a deal. If we can sleep now, I’ll explain everything tomorrow. I’ve had a long night.”

Noah startled as Adam lifted his hand and stroked Noah’s cheek. “Okay. We talk in the morning. I’ll take you to get breakfast.”

It wasn’t a question, so Noah didn’t take it as such. Adam’s weight shifted and he lifted Noah’s chin, giving him a soft kiss. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Noah echoed, voice raw.