Noah

He reached for one of the sodas but didn't open it. Instead, he traced the bottle cap and looked way too uncomfortable for my liking.

"I had a boyfriend at uni, and we sort of lived together." He cleared his throat. "It wasn't my first, but it was the first who wanted us to be out. He was going through similar issues, but he'd been to a therapist and was ready to come clean to his folks. I wasn’t. I kind of froze, and understandably, he broke up with me when I refused."

If my math was right, he'd been around eighteen or nineteen then. Another couple years to go before he went on antidepressants.

"I became a douche after that." He made a face. "I closed myself in even more, I got stoned a lot, I got a tattoo and expanded it pretty quickly, I got the piercing. I took up smoking, I was out every weekend, and I only did casual hookups." He winced. "I took a sabbatical, which worried Mom like crazy. Dad and I were arguing because…you know, he didn’t like my double major. Studying music, he understood. Art, not so much. And he was pissed when I took a year off."

James would've understood today. In our industry, it blended together—art, music, film. He'd been a fretting parent. I'd already told Julian how my pop had reacted when I'd gone to study film. The old man had nearly shit a brick.

"Have you talked to Kendall about this, too?" I murmured.

"Yes." He nodded. "Dad was only worried. Of course, back then, it translated to he wasn’t pleased with me and who I was. I was such a fuck-up."

"Hey." I tilted up his chin so he'd face me. "None of that. You were a kid, Julian. Should you have opened up to your parents? Hell, yeah. But you didn’t keep anything to yourself out of spite or for shits and giggles. And parents fuck up all the time. Everyone makes mistakes. I bet there was some other approach they could've tried with you, but you all did that you could. Yeah?"

He blew out a heavy breath and looked down at the grass again. "I see that now. I only wish I could've seen it sooner."

Looking at him, I could tell he wasn’t done. There was something else weighing down on him.

"Tell me?"

He nodded jerkily. "Yeah. Um. So I stopped living destructively in my last year. I was depressed, and I saw a therapist. It helped somewhat. I focused on school and gave everything to get good grades. I also started working up the courage to come out to Mom and Dad. I worried myself sick a few times and clammed up when I tried to tell them. So I promised myself, after graduation."

He never got the chance. He'd graduated in May, and our family had died in June.

Fuck.

"I was staying at Mom and Dad's when I heard about the crash." He paused, clearly in pain. He clutched his stomach, and his eyes brimmed with tears. It was fucking killing me. How bad could it be? "God, I hate myself." He covered his face with his hands, and I tensed up. "I swear I didn't mean it, Noah."

"Mean what? You gotta tell me, baby." I tried to draw him closer, but he wouldn’t have that.

"I was relieved." He whimpered into his hands. "My first thought when I found out about the crash was that I didn’t have to tell them anymore. I was relieved."

Jesus fucking Christ.

I couldn’t explain the reaction I had to that. There was a shitstorm of emotions rushing through me. I was shocked, but then it made sense. I was sad for him. I understood him. I was relieved to have it all out there. I felt horrible he'd carried this for over a year, and I'd been bitching about my attraction to him.

"Come here." This time, I didn’t take no for an answer. I pulled him close to me and wrapped my arms around him.

"I didn't mean it," he croaked. "It was only a second. I'm so fucking sorry, Noah—"

"Shhh." I pressed my lips to the top of his head and gave him a tight squeeze. "I know, Julian. Trust me, I know."

I released a heavy breath, slowly swaying him. It was soothing, and I needed a minute to get my act together. We could go on forever and carry guilt we shouldn’t. Hell, I was feeling guilty as fuck for not making him tell me sooner. But that implied he wasn’t an adult who could make his own decisions.

It was what it was. All we could do was take it from here.

"I saw it on the news," I murmured into his hair. "I was in the private lounge at the airport in Santa Monica. I'd just landed, and Tennyson and Daniel were trying to get to me before I learned about the crash from somewhere else." The memories of that day were fuzzy at best, but I couldn’t forget my initial reaction. "I laughed, Julian."