The morning sun stabbed through the open curtains, searing into Noah's eyelids until he blinked himself awake. His first thought was "What the-" this wasn't his room. His sheets weren't this smooth, his walls weren't this clean. The memory of last night slowly rewound in his head like a broken tape—down to the very moment he caught Sir Will leaning close, whispering into his ex's ear.
What had he said? The thought gnawed at him. The last thing he remembered, cuz it was burned into his memory with huge question marks since last night.
Noah yawned and stretched, not bothering to tidy the bed he'd claimed. The apartment around him was neat—clean, but not sterile. There was an effortless ruggedness to it, shelves with scattered décor, framed photographs, and books upon books. Too many books. He padded toward them and raised a brow. Finance, business, management. The whole lot. Typical Sir Will. A character that felt quite suited him. But his eyes caught on too some interesting Love Novel titles. None his ever seen, he thinks, but, in reality Noah doesn't read that much. He prefers movies if he had to choose.
When he circled back, his gaze landed on the man himself, sprawled across the couch. Sir Will's head tilted back, one arm lazily covering part of his face, the other resting over the blanket.
He felt a weird etch sit in his stomach, pulling his mind strings to move as what it wanted. Closer to the lazy figure.
Noah crouched, studying him in sleep. Against his will, his chest stuttered. Sir Will's features, usually sharpened by that smug expression, softened now—softer than Noah had ever imagined they could look. He knew that even though Sir Will seemed older, his guess was between 2-3 years, there was a slight height difference between the two, around an extra 10cm in height and if Noah stood directly in front of Sir Will, his body would be hidden away, except for those broad pointy shoulders, like they could dice anything in half just with a touch.
"...weird," Noah muttered under his breath. "he's actually quite hot, almost pretty, like this. I'm hotter though."
His heart skipped before his head could catch it.
"Louvre is in Paris not my face," a voice broke the silence, rough and low, "you don't need to stare that long if you think you're hotter"
Noah's stomach lurched as Sir Will's eyes fluttered open, locking on him.
"Any longer," Sir Will added, lips curling, "I'd think you were about to kiss me."
Noah froze, completely robbed of words. Heat shot up his neck. Finally, he stammered, "You… you really are a softie, huh? Letting me take your bed while you froze out here on the couch?"
Sir Will pushed himself upright with maddening calm. His gaze never wavered.
"You waltzed straight into my room and collapsed on my mattress. I didn't have much choice."
Noah grimaced, vaguely recalling how, in his tipsy haze, he'd claimed the bed without a second thought. "Right. Well, you could have moved me over, but you didn't"
Sir Will smirked. He raised his arms, holding them out dramatically. "Then as repayment—help me up."
Noah rolled his eyes but took his hands anyway. The moment their palms touched, Sir Will let himself falter. A sharp tug, a stumble, and Noah toppled forward, colliding with his chest—
And in the clumsy chaos, their lips brushed. A fleeting, accidental peck. Not entirely part of Sir Will's plan, when he just wanted to force Noah to stumble is all. However, they both froze. Wide-eyed. Electric.
....
[Why did they sit there for 2 seconds lips pressed against each other before pulling apart, Sir Will kind of knows but Noah... he's a straight man. He thinks]
Like startled animals, they scrambled apart, standing, coughing, laughing too quickly. Noah stormed into the kitchen, muttering nonsense under his breath.
"What the hell are your limbs made of, butter?!"
Sir Will, of course, followed with that infuriating grin. "Well, there are many ways to thank me for last night. A kiss wasn't exactly the one I expected."
"Coffee," Noah blurted, rifling through cupboards like they offended him. "Where's your coffee?"
Sir Will leaned close—too close—as he took the cup right out of Noah's hand and slid it under the machine. His arm brushed Noah's, deliberate. His voice dropped.
"Black or with milk?"
Noah stiffened, eyes darting anywhere but Will's. "Just black. But with sugar."
Smugness radiated off him like heat. Noah scurried back to the couch with the mug as though it could shield him. He flicked on the TV, eyes glued to the screen.
Sir Will's phone buzzed. With a sigh, he stepped onto the balcony, cigarette between his fingers as he answered in his clipped, businesslike tone.
Noah stared at the coffee, at his reflection in the dark surface. His mind replayed the "accident" over and over again like a cruel loop. It was nothing. An accident. Guys kiss homies on the cheek sometimes. This was… the lips, sure, but…
He downed the coffee too quickly, scalding his tongue, muttered a goodbye toward the balcony, and fled before Sir Will could hang up.
At home, he curled into a ball on his bed, trying to banish the memory. But his phone buzzed.
A message from his friend. A picture of his ex—at the club with her DJ bf.
Noah stared. And for one surreal moment, he realized he'd forgotten she even existed. The smell of cigarette somehow stuck to his clothes, his mind eases yet, his stomach is caught in a knot.
A random conclusion struck his mind, he needed distractions. Work, study, anything. He started hunting for his laptop bag—until panic hit. It wasn't here. He retraced his steps. His last memory of it… was in Sir Will's car.
With a groan, he texted him. Hey. Left my laptop in your car.
The reply was instant. Where do you live? I'll drop it off. Or uni?
Noah typed quickly: Uni. I've got class later.
I'll pick you up, drop you off. Send your address.
Without thinking, Noah sent it. The excitement of skipping the bus overrode the nerves.
An hour later, Sir Will's car purred outside his apartment. Noah slid in, laptop bag handed back like it was nothing. He fidgeted with the strap.
"For a working adult, you have way too much free time," he muttered.
Sir Will's smirk was infuriating. "Perks of being your own boss."
Noah hesitated, then admitted, "Been thinking of a part-time job. Something to… distract me. From you-know-who."
"You can work with me," Sir Will said smoothly, eyes on the road. "Front desk at the studio. Scheduling, paperwork. It's quite convenient. And you can use the space too."
Noah's heart twitched. He hesitated—but the offer glittered too much to refuse. "...Fine. I'll try it." Well, it was a better bet than anything. Noah just wanted to fill his time better at this point.
Sir Will smiled to himself. He didn't say it aloud, but having Noah there was exactly what he wanted.
When they reached campus, Sir Will slowed the car. "Aren't you going to thank me?" He tapped a finger to his own lips. Teasing.
Noah's brain short-circuited. In a rush, he grabbed Sir Will's hand, shook it firmly, and scrambled out like the end of a business deal and fled. "Thanks. Bye!"
Sir Will laughed, low and amused, watching him vanish.
The week blurred by. Noah took his shifts at the studio, studying behind the desk, sneaking peeks into classes and sometimes joining in as well if there was extra space. And Sir Will? Sir Will started lingering. Claiming "he enjoys working in the environment he created," though Noah was suspicious.
Some nights, Sir Will gave him rides home. And always with that teasing lip-tap at the end. By Friday, Noah was so exhausted fromt eh heavy week, he nearly leaned in before catching himself. What the? Is this the results of overwork?
Saturday came, and Noah sat at the desk while Sir Will finished teaching a K-pop class. Just after the students left, Sir Will collapsed on the couch, knocked out cold. Noah glanced over at him again and again as he tidied the studio, his chest heavy with something he couldn't name.
When Sir Will finally stirred, hair mussed, voice drowsy, he joined Noah at the front. Handed him a slice of cake from the mini-fridge. "Gift from a student. Not really my taste."
"Oh, bragging that you have admirers now? I've got plenty too."
"Then don't eat it—"
"Itadakimasu!" Noah snatched it, digging in with glee. Sir Will watched, leaning back with his arms folded.
When Noah offered a bite, Sir Will leaned forward, lips parting ever so slightly. Didn't Sir Will just say the cake wasn't to his taste? Noah fed him a forkful, but cream smudged the corner of Sir Will's mouth.
"You missed a spot," Noah said.
Sir Will swiped at it lazily, missing again.
And Noah's brain sparked with revenge.
Without warning, he reached forward, thumb brushing along Will's lip, swiping the cream away. Their eyes locked. Noah held his gaze, slow and deliberate, as he licked it clean off his thumb. Sweet revenge~ [Does Noah really not know that's really just letting true intrusive thoughts kick in? I swear this man, does he still think he's straight?]
Sir Will; normally is always the tease, always in control; went scarlet. His eyes widened, his breath stuck in his throat, and for once, his composure cracked.
He shot up abruptly, retreating to the doorway. "It's late. Finish up and let's go." His voice wavered despite his best effort.
Noah blinked, baffled but secretly triumphant. He stuffed the rest of the cake in his mouth and followed.
The car ride home was quiet. Sir Will didn't give his usual "kiss goodbye" tease, just a wave. Somehow, that disappointed Noah more than he wanted to admit.
Back in his bed, he pressed a hand to his lips, replaying the moment. The cream. The stare.
"Why," he whispered into the dark, "was the cake more delicious off his lips than on its own?"
The words echoed before the meaning hit him. He bolted upright in horror.
Gay panic. Again. [Well, Duhh]