Chapter Twelve

“So why’s this in March, again?” Noah asks, fiddling with the tightening bow tie around his neck. It’s a miracle they’d found one big enough to fit the tree trunk that is his neck, and it feels more constricting with each passing second. “I thought this kinda stuff happened later in the year.”

Megan, focused on straightening the rainbow accessory, gives a small nod, her hands working with practiced ease. “Normally, yeah. But this is NC State’s thing. If we waited until June, classes would be out.”

“Makes sense,” Noah grumbles, trying to keep still while she adjusts the bow tie. The bright splash of color feels odd against his typically understated wardrobe, but Megan’s enthusiasm is contagious, and he wants to look his best for Ellery.

“It’s cool that you’re making time for it in the middle of tournament season,” she hums, giving the bow one final tug before stepping back to admire her handiwork. “There! All done.”

Noah straightens from his hunch, thumb immediately moving to touch the bow tie, which earns him a playful scolding. “Don’t touch it! All my hard work,” Megan hisses in a teasing voice, and Noah flashes an apologetic smile.

“My bad.”

Megan rolls her eyes, still grinning as she rushes off to help someone else. The apartment buzzes with chaotic energy. It’s never been this full before, not even during the loudest parties. The gang is everywhere, bustling about as they prep for the night, still fiddling with outfits, applying last-minute touches to their makeup, or loading backpacks with water bottles and snacks. There’s laughter, loud and joyful, echoing off the walls, mingling with the colorful chaos of their attire—an explosion of defiance and pride.

Noah takes a moment to observe the scene before pulling out his phone and reopening the selfie camera. He stares at himself, feeling slightly self-conscious. The rainbow bow tie... it’s not so bad. A bit too flashy for his usual taste, but he has to admit it adds some dazzle to his white button-up. He adjusts it again, though Megan would kill him for that.

“You look awesome!” chirps a voice behind him. He lowers his phone to find Sarah standing there, grinning up at him. She’s dressed to perfection in a black romper with a silk cape, her face adorned with intricate purple, black, and white makeup, glamorous enough to land on a magazine cover.

“Look who’s talkin’,” Noah says with a smile. “You’re humorin’ me.”

“No way. It’s like, understated, sure, but you look so fly! Ellery did a great job on your hair.”

He had, hadn’t he? Noah reaches up, fingers brushing the brown strands Ellery had spent the better part of an hour perfecting. They’re coiffed just right, giving him a little edge without trying too hard. His lips twitch upward in his reflection, a small smile tugging at the corners. “Thanks, Sarah.”

“Of course! So, where’d Ellerypoo run off to, anyway? We’ve gotta head out soon.”

“Ellerypoo’s around somewhere, I’m sure,” Noah chuckles, slipping his phone into his mesh bag and wiping his suddenly warm hands on his jeans. The nickname, while ridiculous, fits perfectly in this setting. As if summoned by the sound of his name, Ellery appears, hopping over scattered palettes and phones on the floor, making his way toward them.

Noah’s breath catches at the sight of him. Ellery is precious —absolutely glowing in his outfit of choice. He’s rocking tight denim shorts that stop halfway to his knee, a loose black tank top that reads down with gender roles, up with pizza rolls , and a pair of white canvas shoes that have been Sharpied into a whirl of bright, chaotic colors. His whole vibe is vibrant and carefree, a perfect reflection of the night’s spirit.

He’s —and Noah will never say this out loud, not even under threat of death— a snack.

God, I’m lucky to be with him.

“Noah, look what Megan had in her closet!” Ellery exclaims, holding up what looks like a tangled mess of bands, proudly rainbow-colored.

“Is that a leash? I’m not wearing a leash,” Noah smirks, raising an eyebrow as Sarah bursts into laughter, unable to contain herself.

“They’re suspenders, man. You would look awesome in these!”

“My pants have a lotta leg to fall down ‘fore they’re around my ankles. Think I’ll be okay.”

“No one uses ‘em like that anymore. You can even—” Not waiting for permission, Ellery crowds in and begins clipping the contraptions to Noah’s pants.

“Hey!”

“Trust me, sweetheart.”

It takes some lengthening to get the suspenders up and over Noah’s shoulders, stretched to their limit, but when Ellery steps back and views his work, he lights up like a sunrise and Noah blushes.

“Really?”

“Your eyebrow ring… it’ll always suit you, I swear.”

“Nah. Hush.”

“Noah,” Ellery mumbles, honing in on him and crowding close to his chest. Noah welcomes him with a timid smile—they’d made out in front of everyone here, after all. No point being coy.

“What’s up?”

"I dunno. Dunno how to say it," Ellery admits, his voice soft and unsure as he wraps his arms around Noah's middle, holding on as if Noah were the only solid thing in a spinning world. Noah hums gently in response, pressing a kiss into Ellery's hair. The scent of him—warm, familiar—grounds Noah more than he can say.

"I'm just really glad you agreed to join us, I guess," Ellery continues, his words muffled by Noah's shirt. There's a vulnerability in his tone that makes Noah’s heart clench a little. Allies go too sometimes, right? he thinks, the excuse hovering just at the edge of his mind. To show support? But he swallows it down. He won’t let himself hide behind that. Not today. Not here. Today isn’t about excuses or defenses.

"I’m still pretty nervous," Noah admits, voice low. He’s not ready to dive into the deep end of what that nervousness really means, but just saying it feels like peeling back a layer he’s been hiding under for too long. Ellery nods, like he’s been waiting for Noah to admit it, all too eager to pull out his understanding.

"I know. Don’t—" Ellery starts, his eyes gentle, ready to comfort, but before he can finish, Gerald’s voice cuts through the room.

"Okay! Everyone ready to head out?!" Gerald shouts, already standing by the front door in a crop top that reads "QUEER" in bold letters, the arrow pointing down toward his crotch. Noah’s gaze catches on it briefly, his face flushing before he quickly throws his eyes to the ceiling.

Ellery taps his chest lightly, tugging Noah’s attention back down to his face, those lovely, understanding eyes that seem to know exactly what he needs.

"Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hang all over you, alright? You need to do this at your own pace. No one can make you do anything you don’t wanna do, you dapper bastard," Ellery teases, his lips pulling into a grin.

Noah’s nerves, which have been twisting tight in his stomach, loosen just enough for him to let out a laugh. The tension bubbles out in a nervous chuckle, and before he can stop himself, Noah’s hands are tickling Ellery’s sides, eliciting a squeak of laughter in return. The sound, soft and bright, makes Noah’s chest feel lighter than it has all day. He pulls Ellery close again, this time with a little more intention, and presses a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips—a silent I really care about you. Thank you.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Gerald calls out again, his voice echoing through the small apartment. "Let’s hit the road!" He waves people into the stairwell, ferrying them out like an overexcited drill sergeant.

Ellery bounces a little, full of energy and anticipation, and he leads the way toward the door. Noah watches him for a second, his heart caught between the nervous fluttering in his chest and the pull of desire to follow. His fingers itch to reach out, to take Ellery’s hand, to let that simple gesture tether him to something steady amidst the swirling uncertainty.

My own pace, Noah thinks, chewing down the urge, the nervous energy still bubbling inside him.

Ellery throws a quick glance over his shoulder, a smile playing at his lips as if to say I’m right here . Noah nods, taking a deep breath. Okay, he thinks, following Ellery into the hallway, out into the world that waits just beyond the door.

One step at a time.

The walk takes only a couple of blocks, but it feels like a journey, with the group buzzing with energy and excitement. The crisp March sun bathes them in warmth as they give each other piggyback rides, laughter bubbling up and mixing with the joy that’s already palpable in the air. Noah finds himself gently corralled into the middle of the group, despite being the tallest, standing heads above most of them—except for Gerald, of course. It’s a subtle gesture, their way of making sure he’s protected, included, and Noah doesn’t mind it. In fact, he feels something warm and unfamiliar—like he belongs.

But then they step into historic Raleigh, and Noah realizes just how unprepared he is.

The streets are barricaded off, and a sea of thousands stretches out before him. Students and locals alike don flamboyant, technicolor outfits, celebrating themselves with unbridled joy. The noise is a riot of life: live music blaring from speakers, people laughing, talking, shouting; confetti cannons periodically exploding, sending glitter into the sky; tents with sponsors affiliated with NC State handing out food, drinks, and merch. The whole scene is a vibrant mass of energy, swirling and chaotic but somehow harmonized in its exuberance. Noah can’t help but feel frozen at the edge of it, standing at the precipice of the road blockade, his breath catching in his throat. Everyone here seems to know each other, or at least they act like they do—hugs exchanged freely, laughter spilling over like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Everyone except for him, of course.

Noah feels a twist of doubt in his chest, a sense of being out of place. He’s the only one who hasn’t rushed in. He stands at the edge, watching, unsure if this world of unrestrained joy is one he can step into.

"You ready?" Ellery’s voice cuts through Noah’s fog, grounding him. He snaps his gaze downward, finding Ellery by his side, watching him with that same encouraging smile. Noah’s heart beats a little faster. Of course, Ellery stayed behind.

Ellery always stays.

“Gotta do it sooner or later, right?” Noah forces out a laugh, but it feels hollow even to him. Ellery’s smile doesn’t falter, though he shrugs, gentle as ever.

“We can go home. I really don’t mind, Noah. I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Is this me? Noah’s eyes drift back to the crowd. The faces there are so sure, so comfortable in their skin, in their identity, in their community. People whose bodies and souls seem to fit together in a way Noah’s never felt in his own skin. Do I belong here?

He isn’t sure. He’s never felt as boldly as these people do, never worn his identity so loudly on his sleeve. It’s not that he’s ashamed, but... maybe that’s something he’ll have to work through later, in Ellery’s arms, tucked away in their quiet space where the world can’t intrude.

I belong at Ellery’s side, at least.

Noah takes a deep breath, lifting his shoulders before exhaling slowly. He turns back to Ellery and gives him a smile, small but genuine this time. It’s shy, maybe even a little embarrassed, but it’s real. “Let’s get in there and have fun. Yeah?”

Ellery’s grin blooms wide, toothy and bright. He cocks his head toward the crowd. “Lead the way, then.”

Compared to the rest of the crowd, Noah moves through NC State Pride in a slow stupor, like he’s dreaming. He lets himself observe, lets the experience unfold around him without pressure. The banners, signs, and flags everywhere carry words he doesn’t fully understand yet—but he’s willing to learn. The people are effortlessly kind, shifting from strangers to friends over shared moments. It strikes him how easy it is for them to exist here, to take up space without fear. They’re unapologetically loud, unafraid to embrace the colors of their identity, to exist boldly in a way that would typically require restraint in the outside world.

Noah wonders if this is what it feels like to be part of the majority, even for just one day. To not be constrained by judgment or shame, to simply be .

Someone offers Noah a bottle of water, smiling up at him with a friendly quip about how "it must be hot up there" since he’s so tall. Noah chuckles awkwardly and accepts the water, thanking them with a weak smile. After taking a sip, he tucks the bottle into his mesh pack and instinctively checks to see where Ellery is.

He’s nearby, always nearby. Ellery’s mingling, chatting with people, but Noah notices how he hovers within earshot, never straying too far. There’s something comforting about that—Ellery being close without forcing conversation on him. He deserves to enjoy this, to talk to people, to have fun without feeling like he has to babysit Noah the whole time.

He’s so good to me , Noah thinks, his heart swelling with a kernel of gratitude. Careful with me.

Noah’s face feels warm, but he chalks it up to the spring sun. Silently, he beckons Ellery over with a small wave. Ellery, mid-conversation with a group of drag queens, perks up immediately, excusing himself before jogging over. He stops a few paces away, his hands fidgeting, his expression open and curious. "Yeah?"

He wants me to have a good time so badly.

Noah clears his throat, suddenly feeling a little foolish, but he pushes forward anyway. “Wanna get your face painted with me?” He motions to the nearby booth where a volunteer is painting vibrant designs on the faces of smiling attendees.

Ellery blinks, surprised. “Sure! I mean... are you sure?”

Noah shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “When in Rome.”

Ellery breaks into a wide grin, nodding eagerly. “Let’s do it!”

At the booth, they meet the face painter, Lacy, whose board is filled with options: flags, hearts, stars, slogans, and everything in between. Ellery immediately goes for a simple rainbow heart on his cheek, closing his eyes with a peaceful smile as Lacy makes swift work of it.

Noah watches, his heart lifting as he sees Ellery so comfortable, so at ease. Maybe this is what it’s all about , he thinks. Taking it slow, letting myself feel, one small step at a time.

When it’s his turn, Noah scans the board, wondering what symbol of this world he can carry on his face.

“Alright!” she announces, patting the curb, and Noah lowers himself to sit. “What you want, stretch?”

“Actually… I, uh. I dunno,” he admits, chuckling.

“No? Don’t see anything you like on my sheet?”

“Why don’t you surprise me?”

“Hmm.” She considers it, tapping the butt of her brush to her chin. “Well, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, sugar?”

“Oh—I… Umm.”

She’s asking for his identity.

She’s asking him to say it out loud. In public.

And even there, under Ellery’s gaze—with his boyfriend wearing his heart on his cheek, both adorned in the reason for the season—the word chokes and trips on his tongue, and Noah’s left speechless. He furrows his brow, seconds ticking by without an answer, until Ellery hunches down on his knees and says plainly, “He loves basketball.”

“Ooh, a player!” Lacy laughs, and touches Noah’s back genially. “You play for the school?”

“Y-Yeah,” Noah says, able to do that much. He has to start somewhere.

“Oh, damn—I’ve got an idea, I know just the thing…” Without another word, Lacy starts, and Ellery watches, rapt, as something unfurls on Noah’s cheek. The brush is oily and ticklish, and a few times Noah has to stop himself from shying away, much to Lacy’s amusement. “You might be a giant, but you’re just a big softie, ain’t ya?”

With a glance up at Ellery, Noah can see how badly he wants to confirm her suspicions. But he doesn’t—that would be too telling for them, wouldn’t it? He thinks Noah would get mad for confirming their familiarity.

Or maybe he’s not overthinking everything the same way Noah is, since he blurts, “Oh, cool,” apparently able to recognize the image now. Lacy nods, grinning ear to ear as she dabs at her canvas.

“Alright. There we go!” She sets her brush aside and supplies a hand mirror to Noah for his judgment. It’s a profile of a wolf howling, done up in black—but the moon behind it is a burst of colors, a rainbow mess of watercolor clinging to his skin.

“Oh my gosh,” Noah breathes, moving as if to touch it but stopping at the last second. Who wouldn’t think this is cool? In awe he turns this way and that before finally meeting Lacy’s mischievous gaze. “Wolf Pack Pride.”

“You like?” she tests, grinning, and Noah laughs. And it’s a real laugh.

“Yeah! This is fuckin’ awesome,” he agrees, almost wishing he could carry around the mirror the rest of the day just to look at himself. “Thank you, Lacy.”

“No problem! Have a good pride, y’all!”

“It’s you, Noah!” Ellery giggles, pulling him to his feet and admiring the work with shining eyes. “Wow. It’s so freakin’ cool. It’s like… what you love and what you love, coming together. It would make an amazing tattoo, if you ever wanna go back to Wizard’s with me.”

Which ‘love’ is the one he’d emphasized?

Noah stops, his hands lingering on Ellery’s after offering assistance, refusing to let go. Ellery squirms slightly, instinctively trying to pull away, but the moment stretches longer, and when he realizes the grip is intentional, he stills. He looks up at Noah, lips parting slightly, surprise flickering across his face.

“How weird have I been acting?” Noah asks, his voice low, a gentle, self-mocking smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The question holds a vulnerability that Ellery catches immediately, but he meets it with warmth, shaking his head in reassurance, humor softening his eyes.

“I really don’t mind, Noah,” Ellery replies, matching Noah’s tone with his own easy grin. “You're doing fine. Today’s pride day for me for two reasons.”

Noah groans dramatically, his grin widening as he looks off into the distance. “So cheesy,” he mutters, shaking his head, and Ellery snickers, nudging him playfully.

“‘Scuse me!” a chipper voice suddenly breaks in, pulling both of them out of their private bubble. They turn in sync to find a man with a large camera hanging from his neck, an NC State lanyard swaying against his chest. “D’you mind if I snap a photo for the newspaper and website? You two look so festive! Love the face paint,” he adds, gesturing with a bright smile.

Noah’s body tenses at the word “photo,” the easygoing moment between him and Ellery shattered by a wave of anxiety. Printed. Memorialized. His heart thuds painfully in his chest as his mind races through the implications. Anyone could see the photo—classmates, professors, teammates, even his parents. It wasn’t just a picture. It was proof. Proof that he had attended Pride. Proof that he had gotten his face painted with a guy who, from any angle, looked like his boyfriend. And who was he kidding? No one would think “may not be.” They’d see the two of them standing together like this, part of a festival that celebrates loving the same bodies.

The photographer, still waiting, wiggles his camera a bit. “Would that be okay?”

Ellery shifts slightly, glancing at Noah with quiet understanding, as if sensing the internal storm brewing inside him. He doesn’t make the decision, though. Instead, he defers entirely to Noah, his voice gentle and reassuring. “Totally up to you. Either way, I’ll be fine.”

Fine.

Noah swallows hard, his throat tightening. He shoulders his mesh pack, his mind swirling with doubt and fear, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He catches himself staring at the photographer—probably even glaring—his frustration building. I want Ellery to be more than ‘fine’.

Taking a deep breath, Noah drops his pack to the ground, yanking it open with more force than necessary. His fingers fumble as he digs through it, searching for something buried at the bottom.

I don’t care whether I make anyone else happy. I want to make Ellery happy.

His fingers finally find it, slipping against the fabric, the item he had stuffed into the bag earlier, on a whim, just in case he found some shred of bravery today. Even now, as he pulls it out, he’s not sure if it’s bravery pushing him forward. But he knows one thing—he wants to show Ellery that he’s trying, that he cares.

Noah pulls his red jersey free, shaking out the wrinkles, and Ellery’s eyes widen in surprise. “Whoa! I didn’t know you had that on you!” Ellery exclaims, his voice bubbling with excitement. “That’d be a great look for a photo, Noah. Total Wolf pride! Show queer fans that you support them!”

But Noah shakes his head, his heart hammering in his chest. “It’s for you to wear.”

Ellery’s excitement falters, his expression slipping into one of neutral confusion. He looks between the jersey and Noah, his brow furrowing slightly. “What…?”

Noah swallows again, his mouth suddenly dry. “You said—you said you wanted to wear one with my name on it,” he stammers, holding up the jersey and nodding to the white-stitched embroidery on the back. Schneider. “I figured—just—if you wanted to…”

Ellery doesn’t move, doesn’t take the initiative. He stands frozen, eyes locked on the jersey as if it’s something impossibly delicate, something he hadn’t expected Noah to offer, let alone bring. His jaw slackens slightly, the words trapped somewhere in his throat. He’s completely still as Noah steps closer, gently lifting the jersey over Ellery’s head, pulling it down over his black tank top.

The jersey, with Noah’s name and number emblazoned on it, fits loosely on Ellery, falling just past his hips. Once it’s on, Ellery gazes down at himself, marveling at the sight.

“I’m… I’m wearing your number,” Ellery says, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

“You are,” Noah confirms, his own voice a mix of fear, excitement, and something deeper—something warm and real, coursing through him like a live wire. His heart races, pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat.

Ellery’s hands smooth over the fabric, his fingers lingering on the stitched letters. There’s a softness in his expression now, a kind of awe that Noah hadn’t expected to see. And as the weight of the gesture settles in, Noah feels a wave of relief washing over him, mingling with the flood of emotions he hadn’t been ready to confront until now.

Ellery looks up, meeting Noah’s eyes, and for a moment, they stand in a bubble of their own making. The sounds of the festival, the people, the noise, all fade into the background. There’s only the two of them, and the small, private world they’ve built together.

“I’m—I’m wearing—I’ve got your name. On the back,” Ellery mumbles, and when he tilts his head back to meet Noah’s eyes, he’s beaming. It’s the most beautiful expression Noah’s ever seen on him, euphoric and ecstatic, downright dazzling, the most flawless, selfless, open, accepting, loving person, begging to be swept up and kissed, and—

Fuck it.

“Make sure you get this,” Noah instructs to the photographer, who fumbles with his camera, but Noah doesn’t wait to gather Ellery into a fierce kiss—possessive. Mine.

Us.

Cradling him, pouring every beat of his heart into the moment, into the crowds, into the openness around and not caring when someone nearby cheers. Ellery melts into him, wearing his jersey, gasping and giggling and perfect—the way those beloved lips turn up in happiness. One cheer morphs into more the longer Noah indulges in—no, lets himself have Ellery, unapologetic.

Noah knows Ellery is crying before their kiss breaks, and the moment it does, he’s pushing the tears from Ellery’s cheeks with his thumbs, careful not to smudge his heart. “Shh,” he hushes, and Ellery laughs into their hug, surely on the verge of play-hitting Noah for borrowing his calm-down shush. “Was it that bad? So bad you gotta cry?”

“Noah, oh my God,” is all Ellery murmurs, burrowing into his chest and squeezing him tight.

The photographer thanks them heartily, stepping away with a grin as he moves to capture more moments in the swirling sea of celebration. Just as Noah is about to turn back to Ellery, a voice calls out from the crowd, loud and familiar: "Get it, Noah!"

Noah’s head snaps up, searching for the source of the voice, his heart skipping a beat. His eyes lock onto a figure standing not twenty feet away, holding a pride flag, rainbows painted across his cheeks in bold stripes.

It’s Ward.

Ward, who has his arm wrapped around Gerald—who’s smiling.

Noah’s jaw drops. The world around him blurs for a moment as his brain tries to catch up to what he’s seeing. Ward’s laughing, then without missing a beat, he kisses Gerald hard on the lips, the two of them looking so carefree, so normal , in this place where love between two men isn’t questioned, but celebrated.

Noah doesn’t mean to yell, but his voice cracks when he shouts, “What the fuck?”

Ward cackles, throwing his head back with a whooping laugh. “Happy Pride, man! Glad to have you!” he hollers, a grin splitting his face as he wraps Gerald tighter in his arm, another quick kiss following. The sight leaves Noah absolutely floored.

He feels a pat on his chest and glances down to find Ellery’s hand resting there, gentle but steady. “You didn’t know?” Ellery asks with an amused smile, his eyes twinkling. “Gerald’s dating your teammate.”

Noah blinks, still trying to process it all. “Yeah, I can see that,” he mutters, eyes flicking back to Ward and Gerald, now wrapped in a playful embrace.

Ellery leans in closer, speaking softly so only Noah can hear. “Gerald’s been meaning to ask us to go on a double date. Ward told him he’d tried talking to you about it, but you said you were too busy.”

Noah’s mind reels. “No shit?” He vaguely remembers Ward mentioning something about catching up outside of practice, but he’d been so wrapped up in his own concerns, he’d brushed it off as just a teammate looking to hang out. It never even crossed his mind that Ward might’ve been trying to connect on something deeper.

Ellery nudges him gently, drawing his attention back. “Noah? Baby?”

Noah looks down, and there’s Ellery, smirking at him with that knowing look—the one that makes Noah feel seen in ways he’s still getting used to. “You’re never as alone as you think you are,” Ellery says softly, his words hitting like a hammer.

Noah’s head whips up again, scanning the crowd, those words echoing in his mind. You’re never as alone as you think you are. The truth of it settles into his bones, heavy and overwhelming. He sees Ward, openly gay, an athlete, a member of the same team he’s been worried about coming out to. Ward, standing here, laughing, holding his boyfriend, not hiding.

So nothing’s ever just black and white... is that it? Noah’s thoughts spiral as realization dawns. There are no boxes to fit into. No ‘correct’ way to live. It’s such a simple truth, one that feels like it should have been obvious all along, but it hits Noah with a force he hadn’t expected. He’s stunned by the clarity of it. He’s been living in fear of judgment, of not fitting in, when the truth is right in front of him—Ward is living his truth, out loud, and the world didn’t crumble. If anything, it seems brighter for it.

“I’m not alone. Am I?” Noah murmurs to himself, his voice barely audible amidst the festival’s noise. His eyes return to Ellery, where they belong.

Ellery smiles up at him, a warm, genuine smile that makes Noah’s heart feel like it’s about to burst. He gives Noah’s arm a gentle squeeze, grounding him once again.

Around them, the world is in motion—colors swirling, voices laughing, music pounding in the background. But for just a moment, Noah lets himself exist solely in the blue of Ellery’s eyes. The cerulean depths that once threatened to pull him under, to drown him in doubt and uncertainty, now feel like the clearest skies overhead—offering him not just air, but freedom. The same blue that once terrified him now promises him the space to breathe, to be himself.

Noah reaches out, his fingers feathering gently over Ellery’s brow, smoothing back the stray strands of his hair. The touch is soft, deliberate, filled with meaning. When he leans down to kiss Ellery, it’s not just affection—it’s a promise, an unspoken pact between them. I see you. I’m trying. Thank you for being here.

“I can’t say it enough, I don’t think,” Noah whispers against Ellery’s lips, his voice low, filled with emotion. “But thank you, Ellery.”

Ellery’s grip on Noah’s hips tightens as he grins, his playful energy still bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says, shimmying his hips in a teasing dance. “I’m just glad you ever wanted me in the first place.”

Noah chuckles, a low, deep sound that vibrates through his chest. He presses his nose into Ellery’s hair, inhaling his familiar scent, his voice thick with affection. “You’ve no idea,” he mutters, still smiling, and Ellery bubbles out another laugh. It’s warm, irresistible, and contagious, just like everything else about him.

“Happy Pride, Noah,” Ellery says, his voice soft and genuine.

“Happy Pride, babydoll,” Noah replies, the term of endearment slipping easily from his lips now, unburdened by hesitation or fear. He’s never felt this comfortable, this open. With Ellery, everything feels possible. “Now,” Noah continues, pulling back just enough to meet Ellery’s gaze, “why don’t we go see what the rest of our friends have gotten themselves into?”

The question comes with a small gesture, Noah’s palm turned up between them, open and inviting. Ellery’s eyes light up, his face glowing as he swells with joy. Without hesitation, he takes Noah’s hand, their fingers interlacing with ease. The touch is simple, but for Noah, it feels like a weight lifting off his chest. He’s wanted this all day—to hold Ellery’s hand, to walk side by side, unafraid. Now, it feels easy. Ellery makes it easy.

“Can we get some snow cones first?” Ellery asks, his eyes wide with childlike excitement.

Noah smiles, his heart full. “Yeah,” he says, squeezing Ellery’s hand a little tighter. “Let’s get some snow cones.”

Ellery makes everything easy.