Chapter 4

5' 8"-5' 9"

Noah couldn't get what was happening. He didn't understand why Ethan had lost his temper and what kind of relationship he had had with that brunette hot stuff, who suddenly ended up being the main figure in this scandal. He couldn't process how much he had accidentally contributed to this brewing conflict. But Noah clearly understood that his thoughts of the guy's innocence had been wrong. While watching him knock down a head taller guy to the floor with one punch, and then start fiercely punching his face while sitting on top of him, Noah finished the rest of his vodka-punch and poured himself more immediately. Turned out it was actually interesting to witness the conflict if you weren't part of it. Although Noah was watching Ethan more. Who could have thought that this tiny guy could be so fierceful. 

The crowd didn't watch the fight—well, the massacre—for long. Some basketball players from Hughes' team jumped from their seats and rushed towards Ethan. The host of the party was among them as well. Noah could not resist the urge to watch how Ethan punched Rufus in the teeth with his elbow. Another basketball player, who tried to take the guy away from his prey, met up with the wall. Which was quite funny, considering that the unlucky hero was different from Ethan's weight category, which weighed heavily against him. Judging from the look on his face, he probably didn't expect that he could have been pushed away so easily.

Nothing was clear. But it was so interesting, though. Noah didn't notice how the second cup of punch disappeared, like it had never been there.

Finally, two guys, not effortlessly, twisted Ethan's arms behind his back and took him away from the poor coughing up blood guy. He was laying on the floor for a couple of seconds more, until he realized that a hail of blows had ended and he could get up. He roared something aggressively at Ethan while standing up, but Noah couldn't make out what exactly. Ethan told him to bounce. The guy either listened, or maybe he noticed how difficult it was for two basket players to hold Ethan still so that he wouldn't attack his victim again, but the dealer decided not to stay at the party. He hobbled to the exit, continuing to mutter something malignantly. Brunette was just about to follow him, but Ethan's shout stopped her.

"Stop ruining your life trying to piss me off!" he shouted. The girl stepped back like from a slap in the face.

"Years are going by, and still nothing has changed! Do you really believe that the world revolves around your pathetic persona?!" she cried and rushed after her date.

"Audrey, stop!" Ethan tried to escape from two basketballers, but he didn't succeed.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Hughes came to himself after the punch. "You need to calm down!"

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" Ethan growled, pulled his hand out of one of the basketballer's fingers, and tried to reach Rufus. He could have probably punched him if the third basketball player hadn't thrown him to the floor with a whoop.

"Take him to a winter garden to let the steam out," Hughes ordered, giving a nod to the closed door. His friends dragged him through the living room all the way to the garden, and Rufus suddenly looked at Noah.

"It's your fault," he declared, pointing at him.

"Yeah, of course," Noah snorted. "Did you find a whipping boy?"

"You had told him something before this whole thing happened," Rufus was shaking in anger, "What?" 

"The truth," Noah shrugged his shoulders.

"That's what I thought," Hughes nodded, then grabbed Morgan and took him to the winter garden, where they just put furious Ethan. "Now you deal with the truth you've said," he said, and he kicked Noah out to the winter garden and locked the door.

5' 3" 

No matter how mad Audrey was at Ethan, her behavior was over the line. What does it mean 'he doesn't sell me anything'? He doesn't sell anything yet. Audrey still had this conversation waiting for her. There were other unpleasant examples besides that. For instance, a dealer could spike a drink when she turned away. Not even to get her hooked on the stuff. Why couldn't his sister understand that? Ethan was sure if he told her that, she would have called him a paranoiac.

He should calm down. Hold himself together. He's also not right. He went too far. The fight didn't solve anything. It just upset Audrey and made her mad.

He stared at his gloves. His knuckles became visible through the ripped fabric. They were covered in blood. He clenched his right hand and felt the nagging pain.

"Are you… Hm-m-m… Are you okay?"

Ethan was taken away so much with his emotions running high, so he hadn't noticed that he wasn't alone in the winter garden. He shivered and, while turning around abruptly, raised his fist reflectively. Maybe he wasn't ready to defend himself, but he was certainly ready to fight another enemy.

The look of frightened sea-green eyes made him stop immediately, not reaching the face of the suspected opponent. Morgan flattened himself against the glass door. He didn't put his hands up, though; he didn't try to slip like other people usually do when they try to defend themselves. He just froze while staring at Ethan.

"Better than anyone," he answered coldly, putting his hand down. "Why are you here?" he frowned and sniffed the blood running down his nose.

"That's my fault, according to Hughes," mumbled Noah, scratching his nose embarrassedly. "If that's right, then I...

"That's not right," Noah cut his phrase in an irritated manner and looked around. His mind started taking over his emotions slowly. Ethan went over to one of the rattan chairs—there were three of them overall—and took off the mask from his face. Blood was already dripping through it, which was making it harder to breathe.

"But you got into a fight after what I had said. If I had had my mouth shut..."

"I would have been unaware of the fact that my sister was making out with a drug dealer," Ethan said, taking a pack of wet wipes out of his hoodie to clean his nose.

Morgan stamped his feet next to the door and then went to the chairs, trying to follow Ethan's example. But when Morgan came closer to the chair next to Ethan, he put his feet on the chair next to him demonstratively. He didn't let people come closer when he was without a mask on. Even if Morgan was offended by it, he didn't show it. He just went to the farther chair, sat down, and stared through the glass wall outside.

"What if I was wrong?" he said after a short while.

"Have you ever been wrong before?" Ethan answered a question with a question. Morgan shrugged his shoulders.

"Quite often," he said bitterly.

"Have you ever been wrong about people that mean nothing to you?" Ethan rearticulated the question, and Morgan shuddered and looked at him. "That's what I thought," Ethan nodded, not waiting for the answer. "Don't worry, you're not wrong," he added, noticing that the guy just got even more nervous after his phrase.

"Okay, good, I guess." Morgan nodded and took a sip from his cup. Ethan finally got a chance to observe him closer. There were some light freckles on his nose. A little scar on the edge of his right eyebrow. A strand of curly hair on the back of his head. Ethan was trying to find anything that he wouldn't like about Morgan's appearance. It was pointless.

After noticing that Ethan continued looking at him, Morgan understood it in his own way and offered him his cup.

"I don't drink," Ethan refused.

"At all?" Morgan was surprised.

"At all." 

"It's rare these days. Do you smoke?"

"No." 

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Do you ask for my permission?"

"Kind of. I'm concerned about others' well-being."

"Well, that's indeed rare," Ethan chuckled, checking under his nose to make sure that blood had stopped. "Smoke if you wish. If Hughes' parents smell the cigarette in the garden afterwards, he will get in trouble."

"That's what I counted on!" Morgan laughed. He had such a ringing laughter, just like his voice. He had dimples from smiling. And he had veiny arms. There was a small black hoop earring in his left cartilage. Why is he such an Ethan's type? It was so frustrating.

After getting consent, Morgan blew a breath of relief and took a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"May I borrow your pen, please?" he asked out of the blue. Ethan even took a couple of seconds before nodding and giving Morgan what he asked for. Morgan took one cigarette out and started writing something on it.

"What did you write?" Ethan asked when Morgan gave him his pen back. The guy just showed him a cigarette instead of answering.

'Rufus Hughes and Co.'

"What for?" 

"It's my way to deal with obstacles."

"Do you smoke them up?" Ethan skeptically uttered.

"Why not?" Morgan smiled and lit the cigarette. Ethan crumpled the blood-stained mask and threw it straight into the bin near the door. Then he took a spare mask out of his hoodie. He noticed that Morgan was watching him curiously and waited for the obvious question from him. But the question wasn't asked.

5' 8"-5' 9"

Of course, Noah was dying of curiosity. He was tempted to ask Ethan why he was wearing a mask. Before he assumed that maybe the guy was trying to hide a scar or a mother's mark, but now, when the mask flew into a trash bin and Noah finally saw Ethan's face with no cover, all the assumptions faded away. There were no scars, mother's marks, or even a single pimple. There was nothing one would want to hide. Anybody else would probably want to show everything the mask was hiding: prominent cheekbones, a straight nose, and eloquent eyes. He was quite a handsome guy. Probably his mask had something to do with his intolerance to the touch, but Noah had zero clue what exactly.

And yet he decided not to ask Ethan point-blank because he knew that it wasn't the topic he would like to raise. After catching himself looking too closely at Ethan, Noah turned around to the panoramic wall of the winter garden and stared into the sky.

"What's so interesting up there?" Noah didn't expect that Ethan would want to continue this chit-chat. But he was the one to speak up first.

"Do you see that bright star?" Noah pointed at the bright dot to the left. The dot was noticeable to the naked eye, unlike the others, which faded because of the city lights.

"And?"

"It's a Pole Star. Sailors used to use its position to guide their route because it usually indicates the North," Noah decided to explain. Probably Ethan was just scarcely interested and asked the question out of boredom.

"Do you like marine themes?" Ethan continued asking.

"Hm-m-m.. Why do you think so? If I know one fact, it doesn't mean that I'm into the topic," Noah noted. He felt that saying 'yes' would seem too easy.

"It's not just one fact," Ethan shook his head while putting the new mask on and then automatically touched his shaved sides. "The print on your kimono. And the ends of your hair."

"Oh," that was the only thing Noah could say. It felt new to receive this amount of attention.

"And your eyes..." added Ethan after a moment.

"What about them?" Noah was surprised.

"Do you wear contacts?"

"What? No. It's my natural eye color, the regular one."

"You have sea-colored eyes."

Noah drew on the cigarette nervously and let the smoke out through his nostrils. The only person who has ever compared his eye color to the sea was his grandmother. But she could see this kind of similarity in almost anything. His mom thought that he had sordid blue eyes. His dad was sure that the eyes were green. Andrea said that they were obscure. Scott didn't care about the color of Noah's eyes. And only his grandma always insisted that Noah was her little salty dog, and the sea was splashing in his eyes and his heart.

Noah should've thanked him. 

But he got so scared of Ethan's unexpected compliment, so instead he gasped, "The sea has many colors," he felt that the answer sounded harsh and opposed, that's why he added, "This couple of weeks there's an art exhibition in a local art gallery. It's dedicated to the sea and the ocean. I've already been there. Twice. It was great. You should visit it if you've got time. You can observe how many magnificent variations of color the marine scenery has. If you don't want to go alone, I can join."

'Shut up, shut up, shut up!' Noah shouted in his mind, since he had no idea what he was doing. Why the hell is he asking Ethan out to the art gallery? Nobody needs them these days, except for the elderly and Noah.

"I'll think about it," Ethan answered, instead of just saying 'no'. He laid back in an armchair. "But you still haven't answered my question. Anyways, everything was already clear after your 'twice'."

"And what are your hobbies?" Noah asked to hide the awkwardness of the moment. Ethan shrugged his shoulders, although Noah couldn't help but notice that Ethan touched a necklace underneath his shirt.

"I don't have any," he finally answered.

"None?" Noah was surprised. "There's no way," he said, shaking his head. "Everybody has some sort of hobby. Something that helps you distract from the real world."

"I'm always in the real world."

"How is it then? Do you like it?"

"Not really." 

"Do you like movies?"

"No."

"Computer games?" 

"No." 

"Books?"

"No." 

"You don't read at all?" Noah didn't believe him.

"I do. When I need to, not for pleasure or for an escape from reality."

"Okay. But it's gotta be at least something…" 

"Hm," he heard something. It seemed like Ethan had just remembered something. "You're right. There is, indeed, something."

"And what is it?" Noah cheered up.

"Maybe I'll show it to you some other time," he answered indefinitely. It sounded like he didn't feel like sharing, or maybe, on the contrary, he hoped to continue their communication later. The first option was more likely to be true, but the second one gave Noah a bit of the vapors, so he hoped for it unintentionally. He kept in mind, though, that all of his hopes usually turn into a rotten pumpkin after midnight.

"What else can 'Devil's Eye' do besides searching for photos' imperfections and noticing others' vulnerabilities?" Ethan switched the topic suddenly, ruining Noah's hope to continue digging out those little pieces of information about his intriguing persona.

"Nothing much… Only vulnerabilities and farfetched imperfections," handwaved Noah, finishing his cigarette and throwing the stub into his cup with some leftover alcohol.

"Farfetched?" Ethan tapped his finger against his chin curiously.

"Well, yeah. It's like that guy and his small penis. The problem isn't with the size of his penis; it's Him thinking that it's small. The same is true for the others. Somebody thinks that their nose is too big, and another is mad about his cheeks. Some others believe that they're turning bald, even though it's not true. Farfetched imperfections. Fantasized triggers. Despite that, these triggers are the most effective," Noah mumbled, and he noticed that everything started spinning a little. His thoughts were a bit fuzzy. He drank a little more than he should've.

Ethan put his elbows on his knees and leaned more forward toward Noah.

"And what imperfection have you noticed in me?"

The question sounded extremely odd. Noah hesitated. 

"You won't like my answer," he muttered, embarrassed.

"It doesn't have to be appealing," Ethan grunted, "We're not discussing my actual imperfections, are we? Spill it out."

Noah swallowed soundly. What did he think of when 'Devil's Eye' stopped on Ethan stuck between two twins?

"You're," Noah said with difficulty, "you are just one whole imperfection."

"Hah," it seemed like Ethan was satisfied with Noah's answer, but afterwards he remained silent for the rest of the night.