Chapter Five

The truck locks with a sharp, bleating honk, echoing across the empty lot. Noah and Ellery meet by the front grill, shoulder to shoulder, the heat from the engine lingering in the cooling night air. At the far end of the shopping center, a sign flickers beneath a dim streetlight: Wizard’s—Tattoos he’s never seen nipple rings in person, after all. Just online, when he’d been… looking for them on girls.

Noah sees them, and his lungs seize to a stop.

Ellery’s perky nipples are a warm reddish pink, rosy with blushing life, and they’re hard—but whether that’s from chill, or is a persistent side effect from having metal bars through them, or is courtesy of the fresh scrutiny on his exposed chest at that moment…

A deep breath finally lifts Noah’s shoulders as he ogles the piercings themselves. On either side of the buds, tiny angelic wings sprout from Ellery’s skin. Feathered, detailed, unique… fuck it, they’re unbearably cute and sexy, holy shit. Where does this guy get off?! Like the piercings themselves weren’t enough, like he had to go and fill people’s heads with immediate thoughts of licking and twisting and pinching.

Body not as still as he wants it to be, Noah knows he’s gawking. But those dumb little silver wings might as well be made of flint and steel; he’s burning.

“I’ll clean ‘em anyway,” Francis hums, and with the trance broken, Noah snaps his gaze to the mirror.

His mouth is open, tongue poking his cheek, shorts obviously not a tough enough material to handle this. Panicked, he straightens and flexes his calves, forcing himself to feign interest in one of the signed photos. At least he can stand turned away while—while a guy wets Ellery’s budded nipples with a swab.

“S’cold.”

“Yeah. Won’t take long.”

Ellery had done this on purpose. There’s no chance in hell this is an innocuous event. He’d—he’d known, somehow. Is teasing Noah with the fact his chest looks that good. Sees that he’s already trying so goddamn hard, and wants to make it even harder for some reason. Unbelievable.

Whatever. It’s his body, if he wants to have needles shot through his tits, that’s fine.

“Bet that hurt,” Noah says to the wall. His throat threatens to crack the words, but thankfully they come out normal. Ish.

“It did,” Ellery answers with a soft laugh, and Francis huffs.

“Whatever.”

“No, it really did. You know the difference between like… cartilage and soft piercings? Cartilage is tougher, but they come with that popping sound, and to me that makes them less painful. Which I know sounds weird.”

“Yep, sounds backwards. But whatever you say,” mumbles Francis, and Noah grunts.

An awkward beat of silence falls over the room, thickening the air for a moment. But immune as ever to any social discomfort, Ellery pipes up, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Do you have any piercings, Noah?"

“No,” Noah replies, almost automatically, his tone flat but defensive, as if he already senses what’s coming next.

“Really?” Ellery’s eyes glint with amusement, his lips quirking upward in that playful, teasing way that always seems to get under Noah’s skin. “Huh. Probably for the best. Not only are they painful, but they’re kind of addictive. It’s not a habit for everyone.”

Noah side-eyes him, catching the implication. “You sayin’ I couldn’t handle one?”

Ellery doesn’t miss a beat, glancing over his shoulder with a knowing smile. “No! I’m sure you could. I mean… except maybe the ‘addictive’ part.” He pantomimes smoking, taking an exaggerated drag from an imaginary cigarette, his doe-eyed expression practically begging for Noah’s reaction.

“I can quit that whenever I want,” Noah warns, raising an eyebrow but already feeling the slow burn of Ellery’s teasing working its way under his skin.

Ellery’s grin widens, and without missing a beat, he asks, “Tell me: do you have your cigs on you right now?”

The casual question hangs in the air, charged with an almost imperceptible challenge. Francis, meanwhile, continues scribbling away on his clipboard, seemingly oblivious to the tension sparking between his two guests. But Ellery? He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Noah wears his chagrined amusement openly, but Ellery remains composed, never breaking the gaze. His eyes are bright, unphased, like he’s waiting for Noah to crack. The seconds drag on, the room quiet except for the scratching of Francis’s pen on paper, and that silent friction between them builds, an invisible string pulling tighter with each passing moment.

And then Ellery drops the line that decides it:

“You’d look good with an eyebrow ring, you know.”

Noah’s head snaps toward Francis. “You free right now?”

Off-guard, Francis looks up, blinking behind his glasses. “You… you want one right now?”

“Can you do it?”

“I mean, yeah. Of course. But spur-of-the-moment things aren’t typically something we encourage here,” Francis explains, clearly caught off balance by Noah’s sudden enthusiasm. “Body modifications are a lot of responsibility, and not everyone can handle the follow-through required to—”

“Do I need to sign anything?” Noah presses on, waving off Francis’s warnings as if they were nothing more than background noise. His eyes flick back to Ellery, who’s now leaning against the counter with that victorious gleam in his eyes.

Francis sighs, sensing the determination in Noah’s voice. “O-kay. Fuck it. Let’s just do it.” With the weary resignation of someone who’s seen this kind of bravado before, Francis slaps down his clipboard and pulls on a fresh pair of latex gloves. He starts preparing his tools, his movements methodical as he pulls out a stainless steel cart and begins arranging the necessary equipment.

Ellery, watching with barely-contained amusement, steps aside to showcase the lone chair in the room with a sweep of his arm. “Is your team gonna be okay with this?”

Damn. Noah hadn’t thought of that. He briefly considers the potential fallout, picturing the look on his manager’s face when he shows up with a piercing. But so what? If his manager has a problem with it, he’ll take it out and let it heal. It’s not like it’s permanent. Besides, this isn’t really about the team or the piercing. It’s about something else entirely—something Ellery unknowingly started with his teasing.

“Honestly? I don’t care,” Noah says with a shrug, his bravado masking the small flicker of doubt in his gut.

“That’s the spirit.” Ellery takes up his post, leaning casually against a filing cabinet covered in magnets with podcast titles, his expression equal parts smug and supportive. “You really don’t have to do this, though.”

“Sounds like someone’s scared of losing a bet,” Noah fires back, plopping down in the chair with a deliberate splay of his legs, watching Ellery with a smirk. He’s playing it cool, but his heart is hammering in his chest. The adrenaline from the decision is keeping him grounded—for now.

“Bet? We didn’t bet anything, man.”

“Good thing,” Noah replies, leaning back. “’Cause I’m about to win.”

Francis mumbles something to himself as he finishes preparing his tools, but neither Noah nor Ellery pay him any mind. The focus is solely on each other, as if the whole room has shrunk to just the two of them.

Ellery rolls his eyes, but there’s a knowing smile there, a challenge accepted. “Alright, fine. If you go through with this, I’ll pay for it.”

“Easy,” Noah nods, already feeling the rush of impending victory. “And in the impossible chance I don’t go through with it?”

Ellery shrugs, trying to seem casual, but there’s a glimmer in his eyes. “I dunno. You buy me dinner or something.”

Noah pauses. That doesn’t sound like a bad outcome—losing. Not the piercing, but the consequence. Dinner with Ellery, sitting in the car with takeout bags, cracking jokes while they chug soda and find a country station to sing along to. Maybe parking somewhere quiet, under a streetlamp, with Ellery’s teasing smile glowing in the dim light as they laugh about stupid things. Noah could live with that.

“Fine,” he says, the word slipping out without much resistance.

“Alright.” Francis finally wheels over on a small stool, his breath carrying a faint scent of something fruity, like some health drink. “I know you’ve put exactly zero thought into this, but which eyebrow do you want?”

Noah freezes for a second. This is going to be an actual thing, something he’ll see every day. He hadn’t really thought this far ahead. Shit. “Uh…”

Before he can decide, he turns to Ellery, shooting him a smirk. “Why don’t we let Ellery decide, since he likes the eyebrow idea so much?”

Ellery blinks, caught off guard for once, but quickly regains his composure, crossing his arms and grinning. “You’re giving me too much power, Schneider.”

“Nah, come on. You suggested it,” Noah says, gesturing for Ellery to step in. “Show Francis exactly what you want.”

With a soft chuckle, Ellery steps forward, leaning down with far too much enthusiasm, his eyes flicking over Noah’s face as if he’s truly contemplating the decision. “This one,” he finally says, tapping Noah’s right eyebrow with a grin.

Francis hums, already disinfecting the area as cool air chills Noah’s brow. “At a slant, or straight?”

“Slant,” Ellery answers, quick and confident.

“Such a bad idea,” Francis mutters under his breath as he readies the needle. Noah’s heart races as he watches the glint of metal in Francis’s hand, but he keeps his eyes on Ellery, the challenge and anticipation swirling between them.

If he backs out, he could take Ellery to dinner. The idea is tempting, almost too tempting.

But Noah sets his jaw, determined to see this through. He’s not backing down now. Not when Ellery’s watching.

“You got it, boss,” Francis says with a grin. “I’ll make this quick.

As promised, Noah turns statuesque, closing his eyes and letting the strange, sterile sounds of Francis's preparations fill the room. There’s a rhythm to it—clinks and clatters as Francis arranges tools on the cart. Noah can’t see what’s happening, and he’s glad for it. The thought of watching the procedure makes his stomach churn. When Francis’s touch finds his face again, he startles, jerking in the chair.

“Whoa, easy now,” Francis says, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “I’m just gonna put the clamp on…”

Noah braces himself as an unfamiliar tool touches his eyebrow, the sensation unsettling, like the jaws of some tiny snake clamping down. It doesn’t hurt, exactly, but it feels wrong, alien, and Noah flinches again, his body’s automatic response overriding any mental effort to stay still. The clamp dangles from his face like an awkward, ticking clothespin, and the sensation alone makes Noah’s breath quicken, anxiety bubbling in his chest.

“Noah, right?” Francis asks, his voice steady but firm. “You need to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Noah grumbles through clenched teeth.

“No. You’re so tightly strung that if I pierce you like this, you’re either gonna end up causing extra damage to yourself, or to me. Just… chill, dude. Deep breaths.”

“I am chill,” Noah insists, though the huff in his voice betrays him. Francis must be looking more done than before, because Ellery chuckles gently from where he’s standing.

“Here,” Ellery says, stepping forward. “Let me.”

Noah’s heart skips a beat, his mouth moving before his brain can catch up. “If you think for a second that I’m gonna let you pierce me—”

“No,” Ellery cuts in, and suddenly a warm, soft hand finds Noah’s on the arm of the chair. “This might calm you down.”

Noah hadn’t even realized he’d been white-knuckling the armrest until Ellery’s touch pulls his focus. Smooth and tender, Ellery’s hand maneuvers over Noah’s, fingers coaxing Noah’s to uncurl. It’s such a simple, intimate gesture, but it leaves Noah frozen, too stunned to protest. There’s no hesitation in Ellery’s actions, no awkwardness—just a quiet confidence, as if this is the most natural thing in the world. Holding his hand, steadying him.

Ellery’s fingers slip between Noah’s, their palms pressed together, and somehow that simple connection unspools the tension in Noah’s shoulders. His grip softens, and he feels his body relax in response, muscles loosening like a tightly wound coil finally given space to breathe. He leans into the touch without thinking, as if Ellery’s hand alone can anchor him.

“Is this okay?” Ellery whispers, his voice gentle, like he’s aware of the weight of the moment. The heat rising in Noah’s neck is enough to remind him they aren’t alone in some hidden bubble—they’re still in a tattoo parlor, surrounded by sterile tools and the fading daylight outside.

“Why am I still without an eyebrow ring?” Noah mutters, mostly to deflect, and Ellery laughs, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Alright,” Francis cuts in, his voice returning to the task at hand. “When I tell you to breathe in, breathe in.”

Noah nods, gripping Ellery’s hand as if it’s a lifeline. He feels the weight of Francis leaning in, blocking out the dim light behind his eyelids.

“Breathe in,” Francis commands, and Noah obeys, filling his lungs with air.

And then it happens. The sharp, searing pain Noah had anticipated slices through his brow like a hot wire, skewering flesh and blood in a swift, practiced motion. His first instinct is to scrunch his face in discomfort, the pain immediate and visceral. But just as quickly, Ellery’s thumb taps against his, reminding Noah of his anchor. He squeezes back, hard enough to convey the intensity of the moment, but not so hard as to bruise.

It’s grounding, feeling Ellery there, his steady presence cutting through the pain.

Francis works quickly, switching between tools with the efficiency of someone who’s done this a thousand times. Noah’s grateful he can’t see the instruments—he can only feel the pressure, the tugging, as Francis inserts the jewelry. Maybe that’s why this isn’t as terrifying as he’d thought it would be. Maybe it’s because Ellery is right there, holding his hand, reminding Noah that this is just one more thing he can handle.

A guy who can change at the drop of a hat. Someone who can break outside of his comfort zone without losing himself. Ellery had pushed him into this random, impulsive decision, but in a strange way, Noah appreciates it. It’s proof that he can be flexible, that he can try new things and still be the same person, even after the jersey comes off.

“Whaddya think?” Ellery’s voice pulls Noah from his thoughts, and he opens his eyes to find Francis holding up a hand mirror. In it, Noah sees himself—sees the new addition to his face.

“Wow,” Noah mutters, reaching up instinctively to touch the piercing, only for Francis to bat his hand away with a disapproving groan. “It… it looks good, I think?”

The piercing is simple—silver, curved, with two small balls on either end. Not quite a ring, but something he can change later if he wants. And maybe he does. Now that he knows what it looks like, he kinda wants to keep it. Ellery had been right—he does look good with it.

“I mean… I think it does, anyway,” Noah adds, his voice soft, a little awed. And when Ellery leans down to inspect it, his smile so big and near, Noah feels the heat rise again in his cheeks.

“It totally does! I told you! You look great, Noah. I hope your manager lets you keep it.”

“Me too,” Noah agrees, his voice barely above a whisper, the smile tugging at his lips impossible to suppress.

“Good work as always, Francis,” Ellery adds, flashing a grin at the piercer.

“Yeah, well,” Francis says, disposing of his gloves and pulling out a small, stapled-shut bag from a nearby cabinet. “Just make sure this adrenaline junkie sticks to the aftercare routine. If he comes back in here with an infection, I’m sending him to the doctor.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Ellery promises, tugging lightly on Noah’s hand—only then does Noah realize they’re still holding hands. He lets Ellery pull him to his feet, their hands lingering together for just a second longer before Ellery drops it, and the cool air kisses Noah’s sweaty palm. Hopefully, Ellery hadn’t noticed.

Francis escorts them back to the lobby, the energy and good humor from earlier returning as he tallies up the total. “Noah, you’ll need to come back in a month or two so we can check how it’s healing. If it falls out or any problems pop up, come back sooner, and we’ll take a look.”

“Right. Thanks.” Noah’s brow throbs, but it’s manageable, a reminder of the choice he’s made. He’ll live with it. It’s proof that he can.

As Ellery hands over his card to pay, Francis smirks, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really don’t give yourself enough credit, you know that? You’re too humble.”

Ellery just smiles, his usual modesty surfacing. “Thanks, Francis.”

Noah, riding some post-piercing high, glances between them, catching the thread of something deeper. “Too humble?” he echoes, curious.

Francis eyes Ellery, the smirk never leaving his face. “Sure. After last summer, I don’t believe anything could hurt this guy.”

“Last summer?” Noah looks at Ellery, who suddenly flushes a light pink, his eyes darting down to the glass counter.

“He doesn’t know?” Francis raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised. “My bad. I thought y’all—never mind. Sorry. Have a good night, you two.”

Ellery snatches up his papers, flashing Noah a shy, almost hesitant smile, and gestures toward the door. “Shall we?”

Noah’s quick on his heel, following close behind, but his mind is stuck on the moment just before. He knows he should be more indignant about Francis’s insinuation, the assumption that they were knocking boots, but something about it doesn’t fully bother him. What does bother him, though, is the loose thread Francis dangled right in front of him—the mysterious “last summer” comment. “What’s he talking about? What happened last summer?”

“Nothin’,” Ellery replies with a casual shrug, striding quickly toward Noah’s car, reaching for the door handle before Noah even has a chance to unlock it. “Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it. Of course, now that Ellery’s brushed it off, Noah can’t stop thinking about it. He tries to drop it, shoves his piercing care kit in the back floorboard, but curiosity gnaws at him. Francis had made it sound like something big. What did happen last summer?

They climb into the truck, the engine roaring to life with a sputter as they pull out of the parking lot, heading back toward campus. The radio hums low, a muffled backdrop to the thoughts swirling in Noah’s head. He keeps glancing at Ellery, trying to piece it together.

“So,” Noah starts, breaking the comfortable silence. “What, were you like… in a car accident or something? Get surgery?”

Ellery bursts out laughing, the sound light and bright, filling the cab. “What?! No! Oh my goodness, your mind went morbid fast.”

“Well, what was it then?” Noah presses, grinning as he drums his fingers on the wheel. He feels a flicker of satisfaction at making Ellery laugh, but he’s not dropping this that easily. “If it wasn’t that bad, why can’t you tell me?”

Noah glances over, expecting another quip or deflection, but the look on Ellery’s face stops him cold. For a moment, Ellery’s gaze isn’t teasing or playful—it’s something deeper, softer. The warmth in his expression catches Noah off guard, and suddenly, the words stick in his throat.

Ellery’s eyes flick up to Noah’s new piercing, the corner of his lips curling into a gentle smile. “You look really good, Noah. You sure showed me.”

Straight-faced, Noah presses his lips into a thin line, focusing on the road in front of him. His ears burn with an unexpected heat. He’s never been great with compliments, and from Ellery, they hit different. They feel… too much.

“I’m proud of you,” Ellery adds softly, his voice carrying an almost disarming sincerity. There’s no teasing, no sarcasm—just quiet admiration. “I know it’s not easy the first time. And I hope you know you’re allowed to take it out and let it heal if you want. I won’t make fun of you if you do. Didn’t mean to pressure you into it. I actually feel kinda bad about that.”

Noah huffs, trying to brush off the vulnerability creeping into his chest. “I like it too, ya dork,” he grumbles, and Ellery’s bright laugh fills the truck again, easing the tension that had built up between them.

They drive under the archway of ivy-covered trees lining the parkway, the night quiet and peaceful outside. The warm glow of the streetlights flickers through the branches, casting shadows that ripple across the truck’s hood.

Ellery turns to look out the window, his voice softer when he speaks again. “Still. You know you don’t have to wear it forever if you don’t want to. Right?”

There’s a beat of silence before Noah responds. “…Yeah. I know.”

“Good.” Ellery leans his head against the window, watching the historical houses glide by. Old, crumbling columns and statues that stand like relics of a time long past. “Change can be good, though. Stepping outside your comfort zone… that’s worth being proud of.”

For the rest of the drive, Noah finds himself at a loss for words. Every time he thinks of something to say, it slips away before he can form it into a sentence. But Ellery doesn’t seem to mind. He hums along with the music playing softly from the dashboard, his voice a gentle accompaniment to the night. And when a song comes on that Ellery knows by heart, Noah turns up the volume just enough to let him sing.

Ellery’s voice, smooth and melodic, fills the truck. If the windows were down, people on the street might hear him singing along to Johnny Cash, but tonight, that voice belongs to Noah alone. It feels like a secret, shared between them in the intimate glow of the truck’s cabin.

When they finally pull into the lot outside Ellery’s apartment, Noah parks in one of the spaces instead of just dropping him off at the curb. It’s only a five-minute drive back to his own place, but he doesn’t mind sitting here for a moment longer.

“Thanks for tonight,” Ellery says, his voice warm with gratitude, though he quickly chuckles at himself. “Sorry. Made it sound like a date. But anyway, I had fun.”

“Yeah,” Noah agrees, his voice quieter than he intended. He hadn’t expected this moment, hadn’t planned for the subtle tension that fills the cab now that they’re parked. It’s the kind of moment that feels like it should have more weight, more meaning, but Noah doesn’t know what to say. What would he say to any other friend? He bites the inside of his cheek before adding softly, “Me too.”

Ellery shifts in his seat, running his hands along his thighs as if trying to smooth away his own nerves. “You okay?”

Noah nods, though his throat feels tight. “Yeah.”

“Oh. Okay. Uhh—yeah. Good.” Ellery reaches for the door handle, but he hesitates, as if searching for something else to say. “I’ll catch you around, right?”

The question lands heavier than it should. Of course they’ll see each other again. They’ve spent so much time together lately, so why does it suddenly feel like Ellery’s asking for reassurance? Maybe it’s because Noah can’t shake the feeling that this night—this weirdly tender, quiet night—marks a shift between them. He’d hoped it would, but now, with Ellery about to leave, Noah feels the tug of doubt. Is this it? Has Ellery sensed something, some unspoken line that they’ve crossed but can’t acknowledge? He had initiated tonight—inviting Noah, holding his hand, and being close in a way that’s left Noah reeling.

But Noah doesn’t want him to stop.

The thought crashes over him like a wave. I don’t want him to stop. I want to kiss him. On purpose. On the lips.

His throat thickens with the weight of the realization, and before he can stop himself, Noah’s mouth opens as if to speak, but no words come out. The truck is parked in an empty lot, and no one’s around. No one would know. It would just be them, and Noah could do it. He could feel that rush again, that burning heat that courses through his blood and leaves him breathless. Just one kiss. He could—

“Noah?” Ellery’s voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts, and Noah forces himself to meet his gaze.

“Yeah,” Noah says, his voice tight. “Have a good night.”

Ellery smiles—a small, docile thing that doesn’t carry the same brightness as his earlier laughs—and he climbs out of the truck, shutting the door with a soft click. He offers one last wave before rounding the vehicle, standing in the headlights for a moment, his hands clasped in front of him as if waiting for something.

Noah watches him, feeling the weight of what he didn’t say pressing down on him like a heavy blanket. He had wanted to watch Ellery go inside, just to make sure he got home safe, but now, with Ellery’s expectant blue eyes watching him from the light, Noah can’t muster the courage.

Instead, he reverses out of the lot and drives away, the tension coiled tight in his chest. Each muscle feels locked in place as he heads back to his dorm, replaying every second of the night over and over, wondering what would’ve happened if he’d just said something. If he’d just kissed him.