That was where Noah called home—a rusted out Airstream trailer parked in the lot. Noah worked there as a dishwasher. An angel and devil were squabbling on Adam’s shoulder. Left brought him to Noah who he knew for a fact was home. Right took him to his studio apartment in the heart of the city. He needed to go home. He needed to leave Noah alone. He was vulnerable; small and sweet and so fucking malleable. Adam wanted to be the one who made him cry, who made him whimper and moan and sigh. Maybe even the one who made him scream.
