Page 31 of Hurt

Noah knew it was masochistic of him. Who would keep coming back to a man who clearly didn’t want him? But Kurt was one of the last ties to a mother he could barely remember. And maybe it was foolish, but he couldn’t help but want that old Kurt back. The one he remembered from his childhood. The one who taught him how to throw a punch and to walk with his head up.

“Listen, kid,” he had said, “one day, you’re going to be small. People are going to want to push you around. But size is irrelevant. Someone looks down on you. You cut their fucking knees off, so they have to look you in the eye.”

Noah breathed out and squared his shoulders.

He was eighteen now, and they couldn’t send him away. He would make his uncle look him in the eye. He would pull him from whatever hell he was languishing in. That’s what Kurt had done for him when he lost his parents.

He would repay the favor, even if he had to cut off his fucking knees.

“Sid, you are too old to be scared of the dark,” Jamie said from where he was draped over the bar. His cheek was plastered to the surface and curly hair falling over the edge.

Sid stared at him from his stool. “I never said I was scared of the dark. I said I like having a night light.”

“Foolish!” Jamie cried. “That’s providing the monsters with a beacon to your location!”

Kurt stared at them. His brows were furrowed, and it was entirely too early for him to be dealing with this nonsense. For reasons no one was sure of, Jamie had shown up at the bar the moment it opened that morning. Since then, he had been chatting (harassing) anyone who would stop by.

“How much has he had to drink?” Sid asked worriedly.

“Half a root beer and two jars of Maraschino Cherries.”

Sid winced. “At the same time?” He slid off the stool, distancing himself from the younger man. Something Kurt wished he could do.

“Why are you here, Jamie?”

Jamie sat up. His movements were boneless and reminded Kurt of a ferret. “Waiting for my liege.”

“What?”

With a dramatic sigh, Jamie leveled a playful look at Kurt. “The handsome one. Eldest brother of jade, first venerable son of the Weaver Syndicate, stabber of hearts, breaker of accounts receivable—”

“I’m sorry for asking.”

“Long of hair, hazel of eyed, rider of motorcycles, champion of the sword, taller than Roland no matter what he says—”

“For the love of God, Jamie, shut up.”

“Master of manipulation, and lover of hopeless causes, the one, the only, Grant.”

Kurt stared at Jamie. “Yeah, I got that somewhere around ‘Eldest Brother of Jade,’ dumbass.”

He turned and began ignoring Jamie. The bar was empty. Even Willow was still sleeping upstairs, probably sideways on the mattress with her mouth wide open. Kurt could be relaxing with her, the bar didn’t really need to be open at 11:00 AM on a Thursday, but he needed to do something with his hands. He needed to be busy.

Crouched below the bar, he was taking stock when he heard the front door open.

“Well, aren’t you a little cutie? What’s your name swee—ow, ow, ow! Okay! Okay! Let go!” He could hear the stool scraping as Jamie’s voice increased in pitch.

Standing up, he hadn’t decided if he was going to intervene or not when he froze.

Jamie was half off his stool, gripping his head and kicking his legs out. Noah had his fingers buried in Jamie’s hair, yanking it back with an eyebrow raised.

He looked older. Taller and more filled out. For a moment, Kurt could have sworn he was looking at Michael Elliott. Noah had that same proud bearing. A presence when he walked into the room. Despite his button nose and long eyelashes, his presence was commanding. His hair was longer too, and some of the baby fat around his face was gone.

Kurt had sent away a kid, only for a grown man to return.

“I only like my hair pulled when I’m orgasming!” Jamie groaned.

“I’d be happy to shove something up your ass,” Noah sniggered, tugging on his hair like a rudder.