Chapter Eight - Crack

Elliott didn’t look the same tonight. His usual tailored blazer was gone, tossed carefully over a chair. His shirt unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. He stood at the wall-sized window with a glass of whiskey in his hand, watching the moon’s silver light shimmer over the city. 

The thoughts of the event that happened in class earlier weighed heavily on him:The way Noah had sprung up from his chair and interrupted almost immediately when he wanted to know why he was being sought after.

Elliott took a sip of his drink. He stared down at the grid of the city and watched as the people moved. From his height, they looked like ants. They were too small and  inconsequential to him. He had always thought of humans as a means to an end. But not Noah. Noah was a stain on his perfectly curated life and one he could not decide if he wanted scrubbed out or not, and this worried him. 

His grip tightened on the glass until his knuckles turned white. His eyes caught his reflection in the window. He looked like a man losing his grip. He lightened his grip on the glass, straightened out his shirt and brushed his hair with his hand. 

“Get it together Elliott,” he mustered under his breath. 

He took a deep breath, and once again got carried away by his thoughts. 

The heavy silence of the apartment breaks with the soft click of the door. Elliott knew it was Noah before he entered. He straightened his spine and raised his but refused to turn. 

Noah lingered by the door for a moment, watching Elliott’s figure against the glass. He had no idea what to expect. He exhaled before stepping further into the dim space.

“Who was he, Noah?” Elliott asked without turning to him.

“Damien. Manager at Black Halo.”

Elliott paused. 

“I see.” His voice was barely audible. 

He turned now. His eyes hold no expression. 

"So, what was it he wanted?”

“Nothing really. He just wanted to give me my back-pay.”

“Then why didn't you return to class?" 

Noah swallowed hard. The truth; that he had been shaking so hard he had to sit in a bathroom stall for forty minutes felt like a weakness he couldn't admit. 

"I wasn't feeling well."

Elliott just stood there with that one eyebrow raised, his gaze heavy and scanning Noah’s eyes for a flicker of guilt. The ice in the glass rattled as he drained the rest of the drink. 

"Or was the money he offered you too enticing to ignore, you had to go meet the client."

Noah’s head snapped up. "What? No! Why would you think that?” 

“Because it doesn’t make sense that he would go through all that trouble just to bring you a few bucks at your school.”   Elliott walked up to Noah, right in his face. “It has to be something important.”

“We had a deal okay. I remember what I signed up for."

Elliott moved past him to the kitchen island. "You’re used to the nightlife. The attention. The variety. Why should I believe you’ve stopped seeing other men just because I paid you not to."

"Because I gave you my word!" Noah shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "I haven't been back to the club. I haven't accepted any offer."

Elliott dropped the glass on the island, hard enough to make a thud but not break. "You sleep around for a living, Noah. It’s your nature. It’s not unusual for a stray to go back to the alley."

He turned to Noah and this time, his eyes were dark.

Noah’s jaw slacked and his vision blurred with heat. "What?”

“That was where I picked you up from, wasn’t it?”

Naoh fought back the tears welling up in his eyes. “You are clearly upset, I think I will take my leave and…"

“No. You will stay.” Elliott cut in. 

Noah arched a single eyebrow, his forehead crinkling into a silent question mark

Elliott strided up to him. "You’ve been paid for the month right?" His face inches from Noah’s. "You don't go anywhere unless I say so. 

Elliott stepped back with arms outstretched. “You want to be a 'reality'? Then let’s look at the reality. You’re here because I bought you."

He sat on the chair, his gaze raking over Noah with cruelty. "Strip. Dance for me. Right here. No lights, no music. Just show me exactly what it is I’m paying for."

Noah froze. The humiliation burned in his throat. He looked at Elliott, the man who had read him poetry two nights ago, and saw a stranger. 

“Why are you doing this Elliott?” His voice cracked. 

“You either provide my services or refund me right now.”

Slowly, with trembling hands, As Noah began to unbutton his shirt, he remembered Damien’s words. You know the moment you accept that money, you sign off your rights to him. He will own you. 

And for the first time, a part of him felt Damien was right all along. 

Just as the fabric slipped from his shoulders, Elliott’s phone buzzed on the counter.

Elliott glanced at the screen. His entire posture shifted. The anger didn't vanish, but it was suddenly eclipsed by a pale, vibrating dread. He stared at the message for a long time.

"Get out," Elliott said, his voice hollow.

Noah stopped, his shirt half-off. "What?"

"I said get out. Go home. I’ll call you when I need you."

Without another word, Elliott turned and walked into the master bedroom, the door slamming shut with a finality that shook the walls. 

Noah stood in the middle of the expensive living room, half naked and utterly broken. He gathered his things and left, the silence of the hallway feeling like a tomb.

Inside the bedroom, Elliott sat on the edge of the bed, his phone glowing in the dark.

[URGENT] OFFICE OF THE HEAD OF FACULTY: An anonymous formal report has been filed regarding inappropriate conduct between a lecturer and a student. Be advised that all future lectures will be monitored by a faculty supervisor. An internal investigation into financial records and personal associations will commence immediately.