Page 44 of Stop and Seek (Our Childish Games #1)

He smelled like the floor of a dive bar and felt even worse—sticky with sweat, blood under his nails, ankle numb like he’d lost a fight with gravity somewhere between the sidewalk and Theo’s door.

Not that he could remember exactly how he got here.

Only that he had to get here. Immediately. His entire soul depended on it.

Theo was cool and soft beside him. Heaven. Fucking heaven.

“No,” Noah slurred, tightening his grip around Theo’s waist when he felt him move. His bicep flexed, more reflex than threat. “Don’ get up. No gettin’ up. I’m comfy.”

“You smell so bad,” Theo said.

Noah nuzzled into his neck like that would help. It didn’t. Even he could smell the tequila on his breath. His body was a warzone of aches—bruised ribs, head splitting, sharp sting in his back—but wrapped up in Theo’s blanket cocoon, it was worth it. He’d crawl through glass to get here again.

“I saw you,” he whispered, thick and tight. “He told me you were meetin’ him. I was there, y’know. I knocked on the window and everythin’, but you wouldn’ look at me. I jus’—I did it for you, baby.”

“Did what for me, Noah?”

“I… I took care of Jagger. Permanently”

Theo went very still.

Noah nosed along Theo’s jaw, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses down the side of his throat. “I wasn’ gonna go that far, it jus’ sorta happened. Now you won’ leave, right? We can be together ‘n shit.”

Together forever . Not right now. Not for the next week.

Theo’s hand braced against his chest, firm but not pushing. “You killed him.”

It didn’t sound like a question, or an accusation. But it really wasn’t the truth either.

“He’s gone,” he said instead. “Then Max’s people came—”

“ Max’s people?” Theo bit out, eyes huge, and Noah kept right on talking.

“And I went to the Roots and you wouldn’ look at me, and I got sad. I swear, I had one drink.”

Theo scoffed. “More like a gallon.”

That could’ve been true. Honestly, the night kind of... slipped sideways.

Noah’s vision swam and he closed his eyes, curled tighter around Theo. “I’m gonna deal with the other asshole in the video.”

That got Theo’s attention. He tried to push him off. Rude . Noah stayed glued.

Theo grabbed his face. Demanding. Hot. He forced their eyes to meet. Noah blinked slowly, waiting for the nausea to ebb.

“Did you watch it?” Theo asked .

“Three minutes.” Felt like three years. “It—it pissed me off. Not ‘cause of you, baby. Jus’ the way they were treatin’ you wasn’t right.”

“And you killed Jagger.”

Why were they going over the same thing again?

He giggled. A stupid little hiccup of sound.

“Sure.”

If that’s what Theo wanted to hear—why not.

“Are you going to kill Andrew too?” Theo’s voice was hard to read. Not angry, not scared. That was a win, right?

“Hadn’ thought that far out. I found him. He lives in uh, Akron. I’m takin’ care of everythin’.”

“Why?”

For a second, Noah forgot the question.

Wasn’t it obvious?

It was definitely obvious.

“‘Cause I love you, you dipshit,” he said.

Theo sat up. He scrubbed a hand down his face, then back into his hair. Fucked up his glasses, too. Noah reached up and fixed them, thumb brushing the bridge of Theo’s nose. There. Perfect.

His.

Theo didn’t say anything for a while. He sat there, staring at some far-off point like he could disappear into the peeling paint on the wall.

“That shoulda been more romantic, righ’?” Noah asked, quieter now. “Like flowers or… maybe a poem.”

Theo made a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “You write poems?”

“I could try. ”

Absolutely nothing.

Pure silence.

Noah leaned in to kiss him and Theo sighed—long, hard. Slid off the bed and walked out of the room.

Panic flared up Noah’s throat, bitter as hell.

He lurched after him. “Did I say somethin’? I didn’—”

“You didn’t.” Theo’s voice echoed from the bathroom. Water coughed in the pipes. “Get in the shower or my neighbors will complain that I’m keeping corpses in here.”

Noah knocked into the door frame, then the towel rack, then Theo. He let out a little hum of happiness when Theo caught him, both hands pressed to his ribs like he was worried they might cave in.

“You look even worse in the light,” Theo muttered, wrinkling his nose.

“You look even better,” Noah countered. “You gonna wash me?”

“I’m saving your all-important sheets.”

Theo reached behind the curtain and the water roared to life, splattering against the tile.

The last time they were in this bathroom, it was sexy. Now, Theo stripped him like he was trying to find all the broken parts. His fingers dragged across bruises Noah didn’t know he had. Cuts that stung like hell now that someone was touching them.

“It’s not that bad,” Noah said, as Theo shoved him—naked and half-flailing—into the warm spray.

“It looks really fucking bad, Noah.”

He blinked water out of his eyes and smiled, teeth and everything. “But I made it home. ”

Theo didn’t get in right away. He pulled the curtain closed, and Noah watched his shadow cross and uncross his arms. Finally, the clothes came off—sweatshirt first, then pants—tossed in a pile on the sink.

“If you say I missed you ,” Theo grumbled, yanking the curtain open again. “I’ll stay out.”

And that was exactly the thing that was going to come out of Noah’s mouth. He pressed his lips together, leaning against the wall like it could hold him up.

If Theo wanted to talk about what looked worse in the light ? It wasn’t him.

Noah swore he knew every curve and bump on Theo’s body. But that was Theo leaving the lights off when they screwed. He watched him grab the body wash—coconut and tropical and very, very Theo—and his eyes fell down Theo’s body.

The raised scar on Theo’s chest he’d felt.

But now it was puckered and white in the bright bathroom, as if someone started an autopsy and chickened out.

His arms were a fucking nightmare. One long cut from the inside of his elbow to his wrist on the right, multiple deep gashes criss-crossed on the other.

Didn’t matter that they were old. Didn’t matter that Noah could guess why they happened. Looking at them hurt .

“I hate that all those fuckers got to you before me,” Noah mumbled, cracked and too small for the rage in his chest.

The poof slowed near Noah’s collarbone, and Theo’s eyes met his. Water hanging off his lashes, trailing down his cheeks and chin .

Theo didn’t say anything—jaw locked, expression so damn hollow it hurt—like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it didn’t, his shoulders relaxed.

“Everyone has shit they hide from the world.”

“Yeah, but not—”

“Noah.” Theo stopped him cold. “Don’t.”

Noah didn’t. But he wanted to.

He wanted to scream for every time someone had hurt Theo and walked away. For every ounce of pain some asshole left behind on the boy he loved more than air. For the way Theo flinched when he got too close, like he couldn’t believe someone might actually stay.

Instead, he wrapped Theo up. Big arms, clumsy grip. Tighter and tighter until he could feel all of Theo’s delicate, bird-bone edges against him. Every scar, every breath. He wanted to hold him until nothing else existed.

“Don’t hide anythin’ else from me, baby,” he whispered. “I’m not the world. I’d do anythin’— anything —in the fuckin’ universe for you.”

Was that a poem? Maybe. He hoped so. Or at least... he hoped it landed. He didn’t have fancy words, but he meant every one.

“You talk a lot when you’re drunk,” Theo murmured, lips brushing Noah’s neck, then lower. Still not touching him where he needed.

Noah slid his fingers through Theo’s hair—wet and messy. So damn soft against his skin. His hand curled in it.

"You still like me though, yeah?" he asked. His voice barely made it out. "You still want me?"

Theo didn’t answer. Just kissed up his jaw, his chin, then that spot under his ear that made Noah’s knees damn near buckle. His pulse was slamming .

Noah was already half-hard. The smell of the body wash was overwhelming, diving inside his brain.

Theo’s voice came soft and even: “Tell me what happened with Jagger. I want details.”

"Wha— now? ”

Jesus christ, he couldn’t be serious.

"Please?" Theo whispered, tongue sliding up his cheek.

He guided Noah’s hand down to his own cock. Pressed it there and held it. Waiting.

Noah started stroking himself with sloppy, shaky fingers. No rhythm. No thoughts. Couldn’t think with Theo that close, with his cock grinding slow against Noah’s thigh.

“I hit him,” Noah said, breath catching. “With the picture. Of you.”

Theo stayed quiet. A tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’ mean to go that far," he went on. "I mean—I did, but—”

Theo bit his shoulder, hard enough to sting. His hand closed around Noah’s wrist and forced him to keep moving.

Noah gasped. “Fuck—okay. Okay. He wouldn’t shut the fuck up about you. I saw red. I cracked his face with the frame and he fell. There was blood everywhere.”

That made Theo moan. Like it turned him on. Like he needed it .

He rutted harder against Noah’s thigh, slick now, his hips dragging slow and hungry. Noah whimpered and kept jerking himself off, his wrist shaking under Theo’s grip.

“I slammed him into—into something ,” Noah said, teeth clenched. “I didn’ stop. There was glass. All over. I picked up a shard, and I—I shoved it righ' into his eye.”

His voice broke on that word. Eye . Jagger's face was going to haunt him for the rest of his goddamn life.

Worth it. Totally fucking worth it.

Noah groaned and dropped the back of his head against the tile. “Baby—please. Let me touch you. I wanna feel you come.”

Theo didn’t let go. He kept his grip on Noah’s wrist, kept his pace jerky and fast. His cock was dragging slick over Noah’s skin—so fucking hard. The way he was breathing—open-mouthed against Noah’s neck—like every word got him closer.

“Tell me,” Theo panted. “How did it feel? When the glass went in.”

“I—I dunno. Wet, I guess.”

Theo let out this whine Noah would hear for the rest of his fucking life. Not soft. Loud . His hands scrambled up Noah's body, gripping onto his shoulders harder.

“Describe it. Please. Please , Noah.”

Noah couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t breathe .

“He didn' care about you , baby," Noah said, voice cracking. "He looked at me like I was crazy, and I shoved it right into his eye. It popped . Like—like when you step on fruit. Or… or break a fuckin' seal.”

Theo let out a choked sound, hips grinding harder now, slick cock dragging against Noah’s thigh. “I’m gonna— fuck .”

He likes this.

Noah’s stomach flipped. His hand stuttered.

And suddenly it all clicked.

It’s not just me. Or the coffee. Even the damn good sex.

It’s the violence. The ridiculous shit I’d do to keep him.

And he'd do it again. Anything to be wanted like this.

“He tried to scream, and I twisted the glass. It went in deeper..”

Theo’s forehead dropped to Noah’s shoulder. Shaking.

“That’s it,” he gasped. “That’s—fuck, Noah —”

He broke. Came hard against Noah’s thigh, biting his shoulder to muffle the sound. He didn’t stop rocking. Didn’t stop clinging.

Noah came a second later, spilling over his hand, his body, everything wet and sticky and tangled between them. The steam made it feel even dirtier. Like they’d never get clean again.

He was reeling .

And the only thing in his head, looping on repeat like a stuck scream:

I love him so much I can’t stand it.