Chapter 30 Damien
Damien
I’m pulling last night’s jeans over my hips while my heart’s still somewhere up in my throat, adrenaline humming with the quiet, furtive panic of not wanting to get caught.
The sun’s up now—real, blinding daylight—casting enough glow from behind the blackout curtains to remind me exactly how exposed we’d both be if one of the guys barged in without warning.
Noah’s scrambling around the room with his own kind of silent urgency. He’s already got his pants on, bralette hidden away under my baggy tee, jockstrap, and slip chain stuffed quickly into his backpack.
He looks soft, sheepish, and still a little unsteady, but there’s something else too—pride, maybe, or the kind of satisfaction that comes from being brave in a way nobody but the two of us gets to see. I want to haul him right back into bed and keep him there until the world stops spinning.
But I know how it would go if any of the guys caught him here now, especially after the night we had. He’s not ready for that—not the questions, not the noise, not the thousand ways this house doesn’t know how to keep a secret.
I glance at him, offer my hand, and he takes it with a nervous squeeze, letting me guide him quietly out of the bedroom.
Huh. The door was locked. We tiptoe past Ryan’s door—he always leaves it cracked, and I swear he’s got radar for gossip—then down the stairs, skirting the worst of the creaky steps.
The kitchen’s already alive with the chaos of the Sin Bin morning—Killian’s sharp voice, Roman’s laughter, someone humming off-key as the coffee pot spits and gurgles.
I feel the tension ratchet up in Noah’s shoulders, the realization hitting him that he’s about to have to face them after they figure out that he snuck in.
I squeeze his hand and lean in, whispering against the shell of his ear. “Don’t worry about breakfast, Blue. You’re not ready for that crowd. We can work up to it, yeah?” He nods, relieved, and I duck us out the back, keys in my fist, letting the morning air chill away any lingering embarrassment.
We slip out through the mudroom and into the garage, dodging the battered basketballs and half-broken soccer cleats that litter the floor. I unlock the car, open the passenger-side door, and gesture for him to get in before I settle behind the wheel.
“Thanks,” he says, glancing over. “For… not making it weird.”
I reach over and curl my hand around his thigh, thumb stroking gently. “I told you, Blue. I’ll take care of you. No one needs to know anything you’re not ready for.”
He nods, worry easing off his face, and sits back, hands folded in his lap.
We don’t talk as I drive the short way to his apartment, both of us just sitting in the silence that’s never been awkward, even when we were kids.
He’s quiet, but he’s not closed off. Every minute, I see the tension melt a little more, replaced by the slow return of that soft, private smile he only lets out when he feels safe.
I park outside his building, engine idling. Neither of us moves right away, because there’s something heavy between us that needs words, not just quiet. I watch him fidget with the hem of my shirt, biting his lip, not quite ready to get out.
He glances at me, blue and brown eyes steady. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” he murmurs, voice gone small in the hush of the car. “I could’ve driven back to the apartment myself, since my car is there.”
I shake my head, leaning over to brush my lips over his hair. “Not a chance. I wanted to be the one to bring you home,” I say, kissing the side of his head. “I’ll bring your car around tonight, yeah?”
He bites his lip, glancing at me finally, and I see the question lingering there—the fear that he’s too much, that I’ll want less the more he shows. It guts me every time.
“Mien, I—” He cuts himself off, swallows hard, and starts again.
“I just need you to know that when it comes to… this stuff. Sex, bodies, all of it. I’m always going to be slow.
I’m always going to need reassurance. Sometimes I might freak out.
Sometimes I might get quiet, or weird, or need a lot of time before I’m okay again. ”
He looks away, lashes dark against his cheeks. “And I know you could’ve had anyone, Damien. Anyone. I know you did… before. I just—if you ever get tired of waiting, or if it’s too much, I’d rather you just say so than pretend.”
I wait until he’s done, then reach out, gently turning his face back to me. “Noah, look at me.”
He turns to me with glassy eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry about me getting tired of you. I waited four years, Blue. Four years. I’d wait forty more if it meant I got to have you, all of you, in the end.”
He shudders, lets out a breath, and I see some of the fear leak out of his posture. “I just needed you to know,” he whispers. “I don’t usually do what I did last night. I mean, it was fun, but… I’m not used to being that fearless with my sexuality.”
I nod, then take a breath, feeling the old, familiar shame crawl up the back of my throat. I know I need to say it now, while I still have the nerve.
“Noah,” I say, the words sitting heavy on my tongue. “I need to tell you something.” His eyes are big and a little scared, but there’s a steadiness in them too.
“And I don’t want you to feel like any of this changes how I see you, or how much I want you,” I go on, making sure every word is clear, solid, honest. “But you deserve honesty, and you deserve to feel safe with me. That’s the only way this works.”
He nods, eyes locked on mine. I reach up, brush my knuckles over his cheek, let my hand settle against the soft blue of his hair.
I pick my way through what I need to say. It isn’t shame, not really. I’ve never lied about who I was, not even when I wished I could. But I know what it’s like to have all the ugly, broken pieces of you laid bare, and I won’t let him carry the burden of the past alone.
“I know I’ve got a reputation,” I admit, letting the truth roll out. “People talk. They always do. I never tried to hide it, because it was easier letting them believe I didn’t care than admitting how fucking empty I felt after I left you.”
I swallow, the words burning in my chest. “After I left, I just… lost myself. I tried to fill the hole with other people—hookups, parties, anything to make it easier not to feel how bad I’d screwed everything up.
I kept moving, kept drowning in other bodies, but it never worked.
It was never about wanting anyone else. It was about not wanting to feel alone with the memory of you. ”
Saying it out loud makes the ache fresh again. All those nights spent in beds that weren’t his, rooms that never felt right. All the ways I tried to outrun the emptiness he left behind. It’s ugly, but it’s the truth, and he deserves that. Maybe more than anyone ever has.
I pause, making sure he’s still with me. “But I want you to know I’ve never been reckless, not with that. I never did anything unprotected and I’m on PrEP. I always have been. I never wanted to risk someone else’s future or my own, and I sure as hell don’t want to risk yours.”
I hesitate, searching his face, willing him to see the truth in what I’m saying.
“And for you—for this—I want you to feel as safe as possible. So, we can wait if you want. I can get tested again. I’ll show you everything, every result, every paper.
Hell, you can come with me if that’s what you need.
I won’t rush you or put you in a position where you ever have to worry or wonder if you’re safe with me.
You set the terms, Blue. I’ll wait as long as it takes. ”
He stares at me, wide-eyed. I worry I’ve said too much, put too much on him, but he doesn’t pull away. He leans in, resting his forehead to mine, voice a thread of sound. “You don’t have to wait for me. But it… It helps knowing you’d do it, and knowing you want to keep me safe.”
I cup his jaw, thumb brushing over the soft skin, memorizing every freckle, every line. “I want you, not just your body, not just sex. You. You trusted me with something so important, Noah. I’m not about to risk that now.”
His eyes glisten, and for a second I see all the years we lost—every night I spent wishing I could reach out, every morning he spent thinking I didn’t want him. “Thank you,” he whispers.
I shake my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Don’t thank me. Just… promise you’ll always tell me what you want, what you need. I’ll give you all of it. Whatever you need to feel safe, I’ll do it. You’re worth it, Blue. You’re so fucking worth it.”
He nods, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I promise.”
I lean in, pressing my lips to his forehead, holding him there as close as I can get.
“I’m proud of you, you know,” I murmur. “For trusting me, for being honest, for letting yourself want something even if it scares you.”
He pulls back, wipes his cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt, and laughs a little. “God, you make it really hard to leave. I just want to stay here with you all day.”
I grin, brushing his hair back from his face. “You could. We could just hang out. Order breakfast. Watch dumb movies. Hide from the world.”
He shakes his head, determined now, but his smile is soft. “I need to go in. I’ve got laundry and meal prep and… all my stupid routines.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Blue. So fucking much.”
We stay like that for a long minute—just breathing, holding onto each other, learning how to be honest, how to be brave, how to love each other without apology.
“You call me if you need anything,” I say, thumb stroking his cheek. “Even if it’s just to hear my voice. I’ll always answer.”
He nods, pulling in a shaky breath, and grabs his bag. “I’ll see you later, Mien.”
“Later, Blue,” I murmur, watching him slip out of the car, hoodie and all, small and perfect and so damn strong it makes my chest ache.
I watch him walk up the steps, his head held a little higher than before. He glances back at me once just before the door closes, and I give him a stupid little wave, feeling more like a lovesick idiot than I ever have in my life.
I stay in the car for a while after he goes inside, just breathing, staring at my hands on the wheel, the ghost of his weight still pressed against my chest. I know there’s work to do, trust to rebuild, but I’ll do it all for him. I’ll do it a hundred times over.