My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 156: When The Asshole’s A Good Guy

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Ethan carefully eased Noah into the back seat, treating him as if he were made of glass. The crumpled old blanket he had found on the floor smelled faintly of gasoline and wintergreen air freshener. He wrapped it around his shoulders and down over his bare legs, pulling the edges together until only his pale, tear-stained face was visible in the dim light. The bruises marring his throat and upper arms stood out starkly against the soft gray wool, and each time his fingers brushed against one, he felt his heart crack a little more.

He straightened up, jaw tight and aching, and glanced back at the house. Through the open front door, he could still hear the muffled thuds and sharp cries of Adrien’s fury echoing down the hallway—the raw, methodical sounds indicating that whatever punishment was happening inside was far from over. For a brief moment, Ethan wanted nothing more than to storm back inside, to unleash his own fists upon the perpetrators, to ensure that Patrick, Liam, and Jace felt every ounce of terror they had inflicted on Noah. His hands instinctively curled into fists, knuckles whitening, pulse roaring in his ears like an engine revving for action.

He had actually taken a step toward the curb when a small, broken sound halted him in his tracks.

"Ethan..."

Noah’s voice was barely audible, trembling and slurred, yet his fingers gripped the sleeve of his hoodie with surprising strength. Fresh tears streamed down his temples, blending into his hair, and his whole body shook with the effort to hold on. "Please... don’t go back in there. Don’t leave me alone."

His plea cut through the red haze in his mind. Ethan dropped to his knees beside the open door so quickly that the gravel bit into his jeans. "Hey, hey, I’m right here," he whispered, sliding his hand over his and gently prying his fingers free to lace them with his. "I’m not going anywhere, Noah. Not ever again."

He turned to him, his eyes glassy and unfocused, and seeing him like that—small and shaking, yet still trying to be brave—made guilt wash over him in waves. "I’m so sorry," he said again, the words scraping raw from his throat as if he were repeating them for the hundredth time that night. "I should’ve been paying more attention, should’ve answered my phone, should’ve pulled you out of that awful party the moment you looked uncomfortable. I let you down, and I hate myself for it."

A broken sob escaped him, and he weakly tugged at his hand, wanting him closer. Without hesitation, Ethan climbed into the back seat, shutting the door behind him so the dome light clicked off and darkness enveloped them like a fragile cocoon. He pulled him carefully against his chest, blanket and all, until his cheek was resting over his heartbeat. He was burning up and freezing cold at the same time, trembling with relentless shivers.

"I’ve got you," he murmured into his hair, pressing his lips to his damp temple, then to the bruised curve of his cheek—a kiss that tasted of salt and regret. "I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. No one’s ever going to hurt you again, Noah. Not while I’m alive."

He made a small, wounded sound and burrowed closer, fingers tightening in his hoodie as if to anchor himself to him permanently. Ethan wrapped both arms around him, one cradling the back of his head, the other stroking slow, steady lines down his spine. Inside the car, the only sounds were the soft hitch of his breathing and the quiet, fervent promise he kept repeating against his skin.

"Never leaving you again. Never. I promise."

Adrien stepped out of the warehouse, the door groaning shut behind him, with the night air hitting his face like a slap that barely registered. The only thing he felt was the heat coursing through his veins and the dull, pulsing ache in his hands, bruised and split open, blood dried and smeared—something he hadn’t even noticed happening. Any pain that should have accompanied it felt distant, muted by adrenaline and rage, as if his body had decided to postpone the inevitable.

Ethan spotted him immediately and climbed out of the car without a second thought, slamming the door shut when he saw that Noah had gone limp in the backseat, his head awkwardly tilted against the window, breathing shallow but steady. Panic tightened his features as he flicked his gaze from him to Adrien and back again.

"Is he okay?" Adrien asked, his voice hoarse and strained as if he’d been shouting for far too long, his eyes never leaving the car.

Ethan swallowed hard and nodded, though his motion looked forced, trying to convince himself as much as Adrien. "He was drugged," he said quietly, anger simmering beneath the surface, "but he’ll be fine. He passed out again from the shock and whatever they gave him, but he’s stable."

They stood there for a moment under the uneven glow of the streetlight, silence thick and heavy, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and Noah’s faint breathing. When they spoke again, it was in low, clipped voices, both still seething with anger over what had occurred, though the sharp edge of blame between them had dulled. Ethan was visibly furious, fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight, but he no longer viewed Adrien as an enemy—just another person struggling to hold it together after something unforgivable.

"We should take him to the hospital," Ethan suggested after a moment, glancing back at Noah, his voice cracking despite his effort to sound steady. "They need to check him out."

Adrien shook his head immediately. "No," he replied, his tone firm and unyielding. "That’s the last place he’d want to be right now."

Ethan turned sharply toward him. "Adrien—"

"Think about it," Adrien interrupted, finally breaking his gaze from the car to meet Ethan’s eyes, his expression taut but controlled. "Hospitals ask questions, files get opened, parents are contacted, and by Monday the entire school would know—that’s just how it goes. He doesn’t need that on top of everything."

Ethan hesitated, conflicted, then released a slow breath, shoulders sagging as the weight of it all sunk in. "Then what about the police?" he asked. "They can’t just get away with this."

Adrien’s jaw tightened. "They won’t," he replied coldly. "I’ll take care of it. Every last one of them."

Ethan didn’t respond right away, turning back to Noah and brushing a stray strand of hair from his face with trembling fingers, his worry overtaking his anger. "Do you really think he’ll ever be okay after this?" he asked quietly, more to himself than to Adrien.

The question lingered in the air, unanswered.

After a moment, Adrien straightened, his tone resolute. "You should go home," he said. "I’ll take him back."

Ethan spun around, disbelief flooding his face. "What? No. I’m his boyfriend. I’m not just leaving him."

Adrien met his gaze without flinching. "And I’m his stepbrother," he said evenly. "He’ll be safe with me. You can come see him later."

"That’s not your decision to make," Ethan shot back, frustration boiling over again. "You can’t just dictate this. I can’t walk away after everything that’s happened."

Adrien’s patience snapped, though he kept his voice low. "Drop it, Ethan," he said, sharp but measured. "It’s late, he needs rest, and we have to get out of here now."

Ethan looked torn, eyes darting between Adrien and Noah one last time, fists clenching and unclenching as if he were grappling with himself. For a moment, it seemed like he might argue again, but exhaustion and fear eventually won. He took a step back, still watching the car, still unwilling to leave, as the night pressed in around them and the weight of what had almost happened settled heavily on all three of them.