Chapter 40: The Talk We Should Have Had
The warmth of Noah’s body was a brand against Taichi’s back, his arm a heavy, comforting weight across his ribs. Dawn’s grey light filtered through the blinds, slowly revealing the details of the room: the whiskey bottle on the nightstand, the discarded clothes on the floor, the stark, smiling faces in the ranch photo. Taichi had been awake for an hour, maybe two, watching the shadows retreat.His mind wouldn’t quiet.
It kept looping back to the feeling of Noah pushing into him, bare, the stunning intimacy of it, the absolute trust of that moment. Then, like a cold needle, the fear pierced through.It was stupid.Reckless. A million miles from the calculated caution that defined his life.
He knew his own history—a few fumbling, secretive encounters in high school, always protected, always shrouded in shame.He was clean. But Noah… Noah was a universe unto himself. The easygoing cowboy with the sparkling grin and the trail of cheerleaders. The rodeo circuit, which sounded like a traveling festival of hookups and bad decisions.What happened in the dark after the broncs were put away? Had there been others like him?Guys in dusty stalls, quick and quiet and never spoken of? The thought made his stomach twist.He shifted minutely, trying to ease the tension coiling in his shoulders.
Noah’s arm tightened around him instantly. A sleep-rough voice murmured into the back of his neck, “You’re thinkin’ too loud. The hell’s goin’ on in there?”
Taichi didn’t answer. He just stared at the white-knuckled grip of his own hand on the sheet.Noah sighed, a soft, resigned sound. The weight left Taichi’s side as Noah rolled onto his back. After a moment, he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at Taichi. His hair was a mess, his green eyes soft but alert, missing nothing.“Tai. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, Taichi turned his head on the pillow. The concern in Noah’s face was genuine, and somehow that made it worse.“Talk to me,” Noah said, his voice low. “Don’t just… shut down. I can feel you driftin’ a thousand miles away.”
The words lodged in Taichi’s throat.He opened his mouth, closed it. The silence stretched, thin and brittle.Finally, he forced it out, the fear making his voice flat. “We didn’t use anything.Last night.In the truck. And then again here.”
Noah’s expression shifted. The softness drained, replaced by a slow-dawning awareness that hardened into something like guilt.He sat up fully, the sheet pooling at his waist. He scrubbed a hand over his face, then let it fall into his hair.“Shit,” he breathed.Not angry. Just… heavy.
“I don’t know…” Taichi continued, the words gaining a desperate momentum now that the dam had broken.“I don’t know who you’ve been with. What you’ve done. The rodeo, the girls, I just… I don’t know.” He hated how small he sounded.
Noah looked at him, really looked at him, and Taichi saw a flash of pain behind his eyes. “You’re the first,” Noah said quietly.The statement hung in the air, simple and monumental.
“What?”
“You’re the first guy,” Noah clarified, his Texas drawl softening the edges of the confession.“Ever. Before you, it was just… girls.A few. Not a parade, despite what people might say.Always used a condom. Always.” He took a breath, his gaze steady and unwavering.“And I’m clean.I get tested. They make us, for the rodeo physicals. But that ain’t the point.” He reached out, his hand hovering near Taichi’s shoulder before finally settling.“I should’ve asked. I should’ve stopped last night and talked.I’m sorry. That was on me.”
The cold knot in Taichi’s stomach began to loosen, unraveling under the raw honesty. He let out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.“Me too,” he whispered. “I’m clean.And I should’ve said something. I just…” He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging between them: I wanted it too much to ruin it.
Noah nodded slowly, understanding without the need for explanation. He slid his hand down Taichi’s arm, his calloused fingers finding Taichi’s and intertwining with them. The grip was firm, real.
They sat like that for a while, in the quiet of the morning, hands locked together.The shame and fear began to recede, leaving a new, fragile space in its wake. It wasn’t comfort, exactly.It was an understanding, earned and hard-won.
“From now on,” Noah said, his thumb stroking the back of Taichi’s hand. “We talk.About the big shit and the stupid shit.Okay? No more just… assumin’.”
Taichi looked at their joined hands, then up at Noah’s face. The earnestness there was almost too much to bear.He nodded. “Okay.”
Noah leaned in then, closing the distance slowly, giving Taichi every chance to pull away.He didn’t. The kiss was soft, a bare press of lips, devoid of last night’s feverish hunger. It was a promise, a seal on the pact they’d just made.
They lay back down, facing each other on the narrow bed, noses almost touching. The morning sun had reached the foot of the mattress now, a bright, bold line cutting across the rumpled sheets. Taichi studied the faint freckles across Noah’s cheekbones, the pale stubble shading his jaw.
Noah’s eyes drifted past him, toward the desk where his laptop sat closed. “My dad’s call is at ten,” he said, his voice quiet. “Gonna ask about my score in the saddle bronc last weekend. Wants to go over strategy for Lubbock.”
The outside world was knocking, persistent and loud. Taichi watched the shadows play across Noah’s face, the slight tension that returned to his jaw at the mention of his father. The photo on the dresser seemed to watch them back.
“You gonna be here?” Noah asked, his gaze shifting back to Taichi.It wasn’t a demand. It was a question, layered with a vulnerability he seldom showed.Taichi knew what it cost him to ask. He thought of his own empty dorm room, the silent phone that rarely buzzed with a call from home that wasn’t strictly about game schedules and grades.He thought of the truck, the wall, this bed.The talking.
“Yeah,” Taichi said, the word solid in the space between them. “I’ll be here.”