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"I'm telling you, they're definitely together!" Millie explodes in response to Gaten's protests. Gaten rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief.
"What are you expecting, Gaten? Millie’s his best friend, course he told her," Sadie cuts him off, defending her friend.
"He didn't, but I have eyes," Millie retorts almost conspiratorially.
They're sitting in Caleb's room, and Caleb has decided not to get involved in the argument, as both sides have an equal chance of being right. Knowing it's probably none of his business, Caleb is tired of the secrecy, and all he wants is to play pretend for one last time like they're thirteen again and witnessing Charlie and Natalia's attempts to avoid anyone thinking they're in a relationship.
"We can just find out," he declares, drawing the attention of the main, no longer so junior, cast.
"That's an idea!" Millie exclaims. Of the four of them, she is surprisingly the most filled with childish fun and malice.
Gaten hesitates. He believes he's right, of course he does, but he doesn't miss the chance that he might be wrong. On the other hand, how on Earth can these two be together? In every interview they’re on different sides, no touching, no intimacy. They are a definition of opposites. One listens to indie, the other to pop, one jokes all the time, the other is shy, one is a musician, the other is studying economics and this is only a small list of all their differences. Yes, they have had a close friendship since childhood, but the whole caste is quite close. Does it mean that everyone is dating someone? Definitely not.
"Not so sure anymore?" Sadie teases, getting a nudge in the shoulder from Millie, who is smiling with a huge grin. Seems that Millie, the most "adult" by social standards, should be at home right now, immersing herself in a pile of household routine, and not sitting with them, planning a prank for two lovebirds, but the one last joke will not hurt anyone. It’s always important to grasp the fragments of an elusive childhood. Perhaps that's why Gaten finally succumbs to the persuasions of Millie, Sadie and Caleb.
“Okay, let's do it,” Gaten says, giving up, “but I'll bet you ten bucks they're just friends.”
“I'm raising it to twenty,” Caleb says enthusiastically, tapping a rhythm on his friend's shoulders, full of excitement and delight.
“Are you serious? Am I up against the three of you?” And Gaten already regrets his decision
—
Finn is sitting on the bed in a shirt and gray sweatpants, quietly plucking the strings of a guitar. It's not always convenient, but he tries to take it with him even on such difficult and exhausting trips as a world tour with a bunch of interviews. They're in New York right now, but they're heading for Japan and then Korea very soon. The guitar is a part of the house, a part of himself, he is not quite a person without it.
Just sitting there, quietly playing familiar songs on the guitar, both your own and those you've learned, accepting the tickling strokes of a soft palm on your back through your shirt — is probably everything a man can dream of.
“Play Mac DeMarco,” Noah asks almost in a whisper, lying next to him on the bed in only sweatpants, "or something of your own."
It's nice.
Just to know that Noah knows that he likes playing DeMarco, that Noah wants to listen to his songs, too.
Finn starts softly, tremulously plucking the strings, pinching the chords.
“Oh baby, oh man,” Wolfhard sings softly, "you make me crazy, really drive me mad," he continues, looking into the familiar green eyes. It's not just a song, it's a conversation, it's a promise and a confession.
Noah lies on his side next to Finn, propping his head on his elbow, listening, reverently absorbing every word and micro-movement. And he looks through everything, through all texts and subtexts.
“That's okay with me, it's really no fuss," the song sounds light, as if it was created for such a moment: intimate, just for two, as something sacred. Not for the public and wide theaters, not for the crowd of fans and strangers.
"Just long as you're next to me, just the two of us,” Noah picks up. It happens so rarely that Finn forgets how Noah sings. He forgets that he actually can, too, he just doesn't do it so often. Forgets that Noah's voice may sometimes not sound so trained and professional, but it's still melodious, the most sincere. And he wants to cry from tenderness, from overwhelming feelings. But, of course, he doesn't do that.
“You're my, my, my, my kind of man,” it's a huge step when Finn turns this song into a song dedicated to the one who sits across from him. It's not just a cover, it's already something personal between them, " my, oh my, what a boy " he sings, holding the rhythm, even when his voice breaks into gentle laughter and a smile.
Noah looks into his eyes, catching every brief glance from Finn. And he stays silent, letting the guy sing, sing for him, from the heart.
"you're my, my, my, my kind of man" says Finn, continuing to go on his own way, remaking the song, even if it sounds a little crumpled from lost harmony.
The rhythm increases, the guitar starts playing a little more aggressively and a little louder, the voice becomes more desperate.
“And I'm down on my hands and knees, begging you, please, baby,” Finn does not look away, sings only to Noah, turning the performance into a conversation, into a request, a plea, “show me your world,” and he continues the tune, even when the words no longer continue.
It's so natural to speak with music that both Finn and Noah don't find it strange. It's not pseudo-romance, it's not a grand gesture, it's a routine that is built by bricks, which feels like something real and tangible, even if the music dissolves into the stuffy night of New York, slipping through the slightly open window. It's them, not their public roles, not the media-trained dry shells that fans crave. It is there and it is here and it is now, without long conversations with words, only with looks and non-verbal communication.
“my, oh my, what a boy” Finn finishes, knowing that he missed half the song, that he distorted the text, that he adjusted to himself, adjusted to Noah.
And Noah is smiling, softly and tenderly, from below, where Finn towers over him, sitting cross-legged on the bed, resting his guitar and elbow on his knees.
He puts it aside, returning to the warm spot on the blanket, meeting the guy's greedy touch. Noah rests his chin on Finn’s chest, very close, shifting their personal spaces, turning them into one tangled thing. Finn raises his hand, brushing back the hair from Noah's face, not so clearing a view of the whole face, but for the sake of the touch itself: to feel the hair, to make sure once again that Noah is here and he is close.
"Your kind of man?" Noah grins, and the mole on his lip lifts, making him exactly who he is. And everything is so real that Finn doesn't even have to pinch himself to make sure. He’s here, with velvety skin, a musky youthful scent of sandalwood and shampoo.
"You?" Oh no, I was talking about your stund-double," Finn waves away, looking away, "you know, brown hair, green eyes, lots of moles, and a bowl cut on his head," he lists, continuing to cross through hair, winding it around his finger.
“There was no bowl cut in season five!” Noah is indignant, pouting slightly. He brings his palm to Finn's cheek, looking at him from under his brows, with languid and trusting eyes.
"I liked your bowl cut" Finn encourages a little sadly, "especially when you were putting it in a ponytail offscreen," he says, while Noah draws incomprehensible doodles on his cheek and neck, tickling a sensitive spot.
Noah is warm, almost fully lying on top of him, so that even through the fabric of his shirt Finn can feel the heat of his skin. He likes it when Noah walks around without a top: his stomach is prominent, with a cleavage along, his arms with expressed muscles and veins. He had been going to the gym a lot lately, which was noticeable. Finn himself was far from physical activity, especially in the gym. But his boyfriend, pumped up, soft, and all his own, is something he definitely won't give up in the room they share from recent times.
Finn runs his palm down Noah’s back, scratching it with his short nails, almost imperceptibly. He squeezes his side, sliding his hand down, getting under the elastic band of his pants.
“Mm” Noah exhales melodiously, biting his lower lip and closing his eyes, "should I grow my hair out?" Finn breaks into a smile, continuing to wander with his palm, without going too low.
"I like you like this, too" he whispers, lost in the moment. Noah lifts his head from Finn's chest, causing a slightly disappointed expression on his face from the lost contact. He throws his leg over the guy, sitting on top. Wolfhard smiles, looking up at the Noah.
Finn had never been a romantic person, but being here, loving Noah, was natural, and he just wanted to express everything he felt. It wasn't romance for the sake of romance, it was his desire to touch, kiss, say something gentle, make compliments. All the anxiety in the world, which usually rested on Finn's shoulders, was slipping away from him, as if Noah had personally removed these stones from his back.
And he's lying there with his handsome boyfriend, just admiring him, memorizing the moment in detail. He puts his palms wide on Schnapp's hips, squeezing the fabric of his pants, lifts himself up, closing his eyes in an effort to instinctively find lips right in front of him . Finn bumps into Noah’s neck, leaving kisses, passing his tongue, nibbling, squeezing the waist with his hands.
Noah throws his head back, opening up a space for caresses, burying his fingers in the jet-black outgrown hair, scratching his scalp. His hands roam over the guy, passing over his cheek with his other hand, his pinky and ring finger resting behind Noah’s ear. He makes a deep sound, more like an exhale than a moan, still eliciting a positive reaction from Finn. Noah pulls hair back harder, pulling Finn’s head away from his neck, almost asking him to look into Noah’s eyes. And Finn’s looking, with his head thrown back, all open, with his lips parted, full of desire, so tempting now, with pleading eyes. Noah stares for a second before pulling Finn towards him, kissing him on the lips, deeply, almost fiercely. Finn opens his mouth, letting the boy's tongue inside. Noah licks it accurately, passing over his teeth, colliding with his tongue opposite. A knot of desire ties in his own boxers, in the lower stomach, provoking an almost uncontrollable urge to give in. Finn moans in his throat, but Noah catches the sound in his mouth. Wolfhard pulls away, once again crossing paths with Noah's green eyes, his bleary gaze, dilated pupils that almost swallowed up all the greenery.
“I don't have a type," he mumbles, "I just love you," he says, nuzzling into the hollow between his neck and shoulder.
Noah lurches forward, trying to collide their chests, at the same time tugging at the edge of his t-shirt and squeezing the collar. Finn doesn't respond, too busy trying to leave a hickey on the boyfriend's shoulder.
“I love you," Noah replies, almost on the verge of moaning, running wide across the back of his neck, pushing their bodies together, pressing his groin to Finn’s, "I love you."
They kiss furiously, Noah bends back, taking Finn with him. Their lips periodically come off with a distinctive sound.
Noah almost manages to take off Wolfhard's t-shirt when a sharp knock on the door breaks the sweet silence of their room.
"Open up, it's Caleb!" A voice sounds from outside the door, followed by another knock.
Noah turns back to Finn. Both of their eyes are scared, as if they had already been caught red-handed during sex, which was partly true. Finn gestures at Schnapp, hinting that Noah should open the door.
"Are you kidding me?" he hisses back, pointing at the hickey, “ I have no idea where my shirt is,” he sounds almost hysterical.
“Hey, come on, I'm waiting!" Caleb insists outside the door.
"Wait!” Finn replies, frantically running his eyes around the room, noticing the closet and pointing to it.
Noah looks at him like he's crazy, but Finn has already decided everything for himself, there was no time to look for explanations, for shirts or other places. Therefore, frowning, Noah nevertheless climbs into the closet, Finn closes the door behind him, at the same time tidying himself up at the mirror and goes to open the door.
“Sorry, just woke" Finn justifies himself quite convincingly, until he decides to yawn, which is more comical than realistic.
“Oh, I'm sorry to wake you up," he scratches his head, “I wondered if you'd like to come with Sadie, Millie, Gaten and me to watch a movie.We picked School of Rock. So..?”
“Uh," Finn drawls, tugging at the edges of his shirt, not knowing how to answer. “Prolly, no..? Kinda tired of flying, jet lags, you know…tired.”
Caleb shifts nervously from one foot to the other. It would probably have been more polite to invite him inside rather than keep him in the hallway, but he really didn't want to risk that Noah might almost fall out of this damn closet.
“Oh, okay,get it” Caleb nods, "so I’ll go to ask Noah if he wants to," he mutters, "trust me, you don't want to miss out on a movie night like this. Bad for you”
Finn nods before the realization that they won't find Noah in the room hits him like a bucket of cold water.
"Uh, Noah?" Finn casually asks, getting a questioning look from Caleb, “I thought he said he was going to bed, wasn’t he? I don't think you should wake him up, he might get angry”.
“Does Noah ever get angry?” Caleb asks incredulously, knitting his eyebrows in doubt. Finn shakes his head vaguely, knowing very well that yes, he gets.
“I'm more than sure he's asleep, but okay, knock on his door, you won't wake him up even with a siren.”
“Ok, go back to sleep," Caleb waves off, finally looking around the room and closing the door behind him, “you're the only one who's angry,” he rolls his eyes and leaves.
Finn goes to the closet, rolling back the door and finding Noah still frowning and a little disappointed.
"I'd like to watch School of Rock," he says with annoyance, coming out of the closet and falling into his boyfriend's arms.
“So go to the bathroom, take care of yourself and fuck off to watch School of Rock,"
Finn playfully chides, accepting the hug, lowering his cheek to the top of other’s head and leading him to the bed.
"And give up on the hottest guy of our cast? No, I'd rather admire you than Jack Black," Noah replies, kissing the boy on the cheek.
“I thought you were the hottest of the cast.”
—
"Well, what's there?" Millie asks excitedly,
"Anything suspicious?"
"Nothing, just a gray shirt under his bed, but knowing Finn, it could be his," Caleb replies simply, a little disappointed that the grand investigation didn't pan out.
Sadie and Millie exchange a conspiratorial glance.
"Huh! Twenty bucks each. Told ya! Just friends!" Gaten exclaims triumphantly, smiling victoriously.
Millie bursts into laughter, so much so she starts to stumble, but Sadie, equally amused, catches her, and they both collapse on the floor of Caleb's room in a fit of laughter.
"I didn't expect you to have such a reaction to losing," Gaten says, exchanging puzzled glances with Caleb.
Sadie bursts into another wave of laughter, burying her face in Bonjovi's shoulder.
“304’s Noah's room, you idiot" Millie wheezes through her laughter, "you two twenty each!"
"I agreed on ten!"