After the Rain (3/?)
Part One
Part Two
++++++++
Norman strips off his shirt and tosses it on the floor of his suite. Summer in the city is usually pretty nice, or at least bearable, but they're experiencing a heatwave this week that means nice mornings but scorching afternoons. This particular scorching afternoon had been spent looking at apartments that didn't excite him in any way, and has left him feeling cranky and more than a little drained. He's grateful he at least has a good evening planned. As he heads into the bathroom to turn on the shower and finish stripping, he thinks about the fact that he's finally found Ethan Mars. He doesn't know how dishonest it is to act as if their meeting had been nothing but a coincidence, but until he can suss out the man a little more, that's going to be the story.
Stepping under the cool spray, he lets out a contented sigh as the water washes away the grime of the city and helps him to focus. So far today he's only seen a few odd things - nothing to scare him, thank god. The fact is, he's getting used to the flashes of changing scenery or the occasional object that isn't really there. As long as he can keep reminding himself of where he is and what's real, his brain can put on all the channel-flipping displays it likes.
"Mission accomplished, sir?"
Norman lathers up and looks through the shower door glass at his trusty companion. His doctor says that the manservant that was a part of ARI's programming has become the physical manifestation of Norman's conscience. Previously unnamed, Norman has taken to calling him Sal. It stands for Shitty ARI Leftover and appeals to the morbid part of him that wants to indulge this craziness for the amusement value. Norman's not so sure that Sal is really his conscience, though, or that anything having to do with his condition can really be that simple, but it is an explanation that satisfies him for the time being. At the very least, he can justify calling himself only mildly batshit crazy.
"Step one of the mission, anyway," he says aloud to the man only he can see.
"Step one. Find Ethan Mars."
"That would be it."
"And step two, sir?"
"Find an apartment, hopefully with his help."
There's a span of silence as Norman rinses off and finishes up. Sal is now standing in the doorway, his back to Norman as he dries himself off.
"When are you going to tell Mr. Mars the truth, sir?"
The question immediately raises Norman's ire and he flings his towel at Sal, wishing he were real and wishing the towel was something that could do some real damage. He's been fighting with himself about how honest to be with Ethan once he found him, and the last thing he needs is his damn conscience, or whatever the hell it is, bugging him about it now.
"Don't ask me that," he snaps, storming past the hallucination and into the bedroom to get dressed.
He has no idea how he can ever tell Ethan the whole truth. Maybe he doesn't have to. If things go according to plan, there won't be any reason for the man to know. He isn't going to let his damaged brain make him do something that could ruin things for him. Not that the truth is some horrible, terrifying thing. It's so simple.
It all started when Norman helped Ethan escape from the police station. When he'd found the other man on the floor of the interrogation room, bruised and bloodied, he'd felt a powerful need to protect and help him. It went beyond the fact that Ethan Mars was innocent and desperately trying to beat the clock to find his son. Ethan actually thought that he was schizophrenic and was the one responsible for taking his own son. Norman had figured out that it couldn't be true, but Ethan was still ready to turn himself in as the Origami Killer once he had found Shaun. There was an innate goodness underlying that raw conviction that Norman couldn't stop thinking about. It wouldn't let him allow the other man to go down for a series of crimes he hadn't committed. After getting Ethan out of police custody, finding Shaun Mars alive was no longer just about saving the child. It was also about saving the father. There had been no doubt in Norman's mind that if Ethan had lost the sick game the Origami Killer was playing with him, he would have ended up destroying himself in penance for his failure. That devotion was another thing that Norman couldn't get out of his mind. He'd seen plenty of desperate parents, seen plenty of loving families, but Ethan left them all behind with what he had been willing to do to save his child. It broke Norman's heart to think about the fact that Ethan had almost died trying to save one son, only to have some monster test his love for his other son two years later. The killer admitted to Ethan that he had seen his failed attempt to save Jason from being hit by a car, yet had still pushed him beyond his limits to save the only son he had left. It tore at every decent thing inside Norman to imagine that kind of pain,. That was the reason why he relished the memory of sending the killer to his death.
One of Norman's major regrets after the case ended was not following up with Ethan and his son. The lie about being called back to D.C. had been easier to tell than the truth. Norman knew that if he'd met with Ethan, he would have said or done something that would have jeopardized their friendship before it had even begun. There wasn't exactly a page in the FBI manual that told an agent how to handle falling in love with the father of a victim while battling addictions to an illegal narcotic and brain-altering technology issued by said Bureau.
He sighs and starts to dress. The invitation to dinner had been unexpected. It gives him some hope that maybe things aren't completely one-sided. Despite the fact that Ethan had been married and fathered two children with his wife, some investigating and digging had uncovered the fact that Ethan was not unfamiliar with experimenting with men. It had mainly been in college, as was par for the course for some adventurous types, but it had happened. That and when he was asked in a survey for his human sexuality class how he would classify his sexual orientation he had replied, 'I don't believe in labels.' That response had amused Norman when he'd seen it since it was usually code with guys for 'I'm not ready to admit I like dick but get back to me.'
Still, it could only be wishful thinking that any of this could be significant. Norman has to either be prepared for rejection or satisfied with being nothing more than friends with the man he's spent five years wanting. While it would be difficult, he could live with it. After he had read Ethan's book, the feelings that he'd already been harboring had blossomed into something so deep and genuine, it could afford him the strength to be content with simply being near the other man and keeping him safe.
That book. The author Ethan had worked with had chosen to tell the story using a first person point of view, so it was as if Ethan had been speaking directly to him. Norman could feel the torment and gut wrenching panic Ethan had experienced with every trial the killer had put him through. The sick bastard had made a game of it, rewarding Ethan's triumphs with letters that would reveal the address where his son was being held captive. The first trial forced Ethan to drive the wrong way on a highway for five miles in under five minutes. It was a minor miracle that Ethan had not only survived the hair raising ride, but hadn't hurt any innocent drivers in the process. The next trial had forced Ethan to literally crawl through broken glass and then face possible electrocution by walking through an electrified maze in order to get more letters. The third trial called for Ethan to film himself cutting off a finger to continue the sick game. Finally, he had been faced with the choice of drinking poison that would allow him time to find his son but kill him mere minutes later. By the time Norman had finished the book, he felt as if he'd been put through the same wringer Ethan had. That didn't change with subsequent readings, and when he reached the point where he had practically memorized every word, he knew he needed to ensure Ethan never went through anything like that ever again. The logical part of his head told him he was obsessed with a man he barely knew and that he should just leave well enough alone. But the emotional part of him knew that if he was going to survive the future that loomed in front of him, he had to at least try to make Ethan a part of that life.
Things would have moved along faster if Norman's plans hadn't been sidelined by the stint in rehab. He had hit rock bottom when he'd almost died from a tripto overdose at work. The ARI had screwed him up beyond repair, and the tripto was the only thing that prevented him from succumbing to it completely. Unfortunately, like any narcotic, the tripto had its own set of dangers. When it almost cost him his life, the Bureau had taken action. They'd saved him, but it was at the expense of his entire career and the reputation he had spent years earning since the academy. Between the effects of the tripto and the brain damage caused by ARI, it had taken him a few years of therapy to get to a place where he felt able to accept his lot in life. It wasn't until then that he was willing to find Ethan.
A quick glance at the clock and he sees he has about twenty minutes before Ethan's due. He double checks himself in the mirror, wonders if he should change the dark green shirt for a white one, then decides to stay the way he is. He doubts Ethan would really care all that much about how he's dressed. After all, it's just a couple of friends going out for burgers and beers.
A knock on the door startles him, but he quickly answers it and is surprised to see Ethan standing there.
"Hope I'm not too early," he says, looking a little sheepish. "I got here about fifteen minutes ago, but I've just been sitting downstairs. I thought I'd take a chance that you were ready."
Norman can't help smiling at that. "You should have called me," he says. "I would have invited you up for a drink while I finished getting ready."
"I didn't want to intrude," Ethan says, clearly feeling self-conscious. "Not that early, anyway."
"No intrusion at all," Norman assures him. "Just remember for next time, okay?" he says, giving Ethan's shoulder a pat. "You look great, by the way. That color really brings out your eyes." It's true. Ethan's wearing a lapis blue fitted v-neck tee and blue jeans, and obviously doesn't know just how amazing he looks. Norman would bet that it doesn't take the man any effort at all to be so sexy. The blush he receives in return for the compliment is completely endearing, and Norman makes sure to remember to pay him more compliments over the course of the evening.
"Thanks," Ethan says, clearing his throat and gesturing towards Norman's own ensemble. "You look nice too."
"Only nice? I need to try harder."
"Oh, but...I..I..."
Before Ethan can stammer out anything else, Norman lets him off the hook. "I'm sorry, Ethan. Like I said before, you make it easy."
Ethan grins at the realization he's being teased, and shrugs. "Hey, if it amuses you, I don't mind. I think you're earned the right to have fun at my expense," he chuckles good-naturedly.
"That's very generous of you," Norman says, grabbing his wallet from the coffee table and putting it in his back pocket. "I'll have to repay the favor sometime." He's about to open the door for them to leave when their surroundings suddenly change and he and Ethan are standing at the edge of a cliff. He clutches Ethan's arm and breaks out into a sweat.
"Norman? Are you all right?" Ethan asks, holding onto Norman's hand as it grips him even tighter.
"Don't move," Norman whispers, eyes wide as he sees just how close Ethan is to stepping over the edge of the cliff and falling to the jagged rocks below.
"What? Why? What's wrong?" Ethan touches his hand to Norman's face. "Look at me, Norman. Tell me what's going on."
Norman looks at Ethan, sees panic in the other man's eyes. He's aware enough to know that he's the cause of it, but he can't figure out how to make things right.
"Sir, you're hallucinating again and it's frightening Mr. Mars," Sal says, appearing at Norman's side. "Perhaps you should try to focus on the fact that you're safe in your hotel room."
Swallowing hard, Norman nods and looks intently at Ethan. "We're in my hotel room?" he asks softly. "Right? We're safe?"
Ethan nods quickly. "Y-yes," he stammers. "We're in your hotel room. We're safe. I promise. Perfectly safe."
Norman licks his lips and nods again. "We're in my room," he whispers to himself, slowly pulling Ethan closer and tentatively putting his arms around him, needing the reality of that solid warmth to anchor himself. "We're safe."
Ethan accepts and returns the embrace. "That's right, Norman," he says softly. "Look around you."
"That's the problem," Norman says, his fingers clutching at Ethan's back. "I don't see my room right now."
"I...I don't understand..."
"Just...give me a second," Norman whispers, closing his eyes and letting his cheek briefly rest against Ethan's. He inhales slowly, smelling a mixture of soap and aftershave, and wants so badly to kiss the warm skin it's almost painful to hold back. But he does, and it's that struggle that finally allows his brain to readjust its focus.
"Sir, you can open your eyes now," Sal says after a few moments.
Taking a deep breath, Norman does just that and sees that they're in his suite, safe and sound. That's when he realizes just how tightly he's holding onto Ethan.
"I'm... God, Ethan, I'm so sorry," he says, flustered as he reluctantly lets go. "I feel like an idiot."
Ethan shakes his head. "Please, don't. I take it I just witnessed some of the side effects you mentioned in the park? The hallucinations?" His voice isn't judgmental. In fact, Norman's struck by just how understanding and gentle it is.
"You did." Norman runs a hand across his forehead to wipe away the sweat. He can't bring himself to look at Ethan. All this time he had planned to find the man he was in love with to see if they could ever be together, and he's just ruined any chance he might have had.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Norman shakes his head. "I don't know if it would help."
Ethan places a hand on Norman's upper arm and rubs it reassuringly. "I think it would. It would help me, anyway. I'd like to understand what just happened to you."
Norman wants to scream that Ethan has no right to be so understanding to a man who has been lying to him since orchestrating their meeting in that coffee shop. Instead, he looks at the floor and bites his bottom lip.
"Now would be a good time to reconsider telling him the truth, sir," Sal says, garnering a sharp look from Norman.
"What just happened?" Ethan asks. "What are you seeing now?"
"Just...someone who..."
"Someone?" Ethan looks in the direction Norman's facing. "You see a person?"
"I... Yeah..." Norman says before finally turning back to Ethan and looking him in the eye again. "There are a lot of things I need to tell you, Ethan," he begins, "and I'm so afraid that once you hear all of it, you'll walk out that door and never want to see me again."
Ethan tilts his head slightly and narrows his eyes. "I did make it clear how much I owe you, right?"
"Yes, but--"
"Then that should give you some clue as to how unlikely it is I'll never want to see you again." He squeezes Norman's arm. "Talk to me. Please. I need to know you'll be honest with me no matter what." He pauses. "I can take a lot of things, but I can't take not being able to trust you. Not after what happened with Madison."
And there it is. There is no way that Norman can continue deceiving Ethan about anything, no matter how many reservations he has or how afraid he is of saying the wrong thing and revealing too much.
"All right, but before I do, I think we should order some food. I don't feel too much like going out for burgers," Norman says with a pained smile. "If you don't mind, that is."
"As much as I think it's a shame that no one will see just how fantastic we both look," Ethan says with a shy but relieved smile, "I think ordering in is just fine."
Part Two
++++++++
Norman strips off his shirt and tosses it on the floor of his suite. Summer in the city is usually pretty nice, or at least bearable, but they're experiencing a heatwave this week that means nice mornings but scorching afternoons. This particular scorching afternoon had been spent looking at apartments that didn't excite him in any way, and has left him feeling cranky and more than a little drained. He's grateful he at least has a good evening planned. As he heads into the bathroom to turn on the shower and finish stripping, he thinks about the fact that he's finally found Ethan Mars. He doesn't know how dishonest it is to act as if their meeting had been nothing but a coincidence, but until he can suss out the man a little more, that's going to be the story.
Stepping under the cool spray, he lets out a contented sigh as the water washes away the grime of the city and helps him to focus. So far today he's only seen a few odd things - nothing to scare him, thank god. The fact is, he's getting used to the flashes of changing scenery or the occasional object that isn't really there. As long as he can keep reminding himself of where he is and what's real, his brain can put on all the channel-flipping displays it likes.
"Mission accomplished, sir?"
Norman lathers up and looks through the shower door glass at his trusty companion. His doctor says that the manservant that was a part of ARI's programming has become the physical manifestation of Norman's conscience. Previously unnamed, Norman has taken to calling him Sal. It stands for Shitty ARI Leftover and appeals to the morbid part of him that wants to indulge this craziness for the amusement value. Norman's not so sure that Sal is really his conscience, though, or that anything having to do with his condition can really be that simple, but it is an explanation that satisfies him for the time being. At the very least, he can justify calling himself only mildly batshit crazy.
"Step one of the mission, anyway," he says aloud to the man only he can see.
"Step one. Find Ethan Mars."
"That would be it."
"And step two, sir?"
"Find an apartment, hopefully with his help."
There's a span of silence as Norman rinses off and finishes up. Sal is now standing in the doorway, his back to Norman as he dries himself off.
"When are you going to tell Mr. Mars the truth, sir?"
The question immediately raises Norman's ire and he flings his towel at Sal, wishing he were real and wishing the towel was something that could do some real damage. He's been fighting with himself about how honest to be with Ethan once he found him, and the last thing he needs is his damn conscience, or whatever the hell it is, bugging him about it now.
"Don't ask me that," he snaps, storming past the hallucination and into the bedroom to get dressed.
He has no idea how he can ever tell Ethan the whole truth. Maybe he doesn't have to. If things go according to plan, there won't be any reason for the man to know. He isn't going to let his damaged brain make him do something that could ruin things for him. Not that the truth is some horrible, terrifying thing. It's so simple.
It all started when Norman helped Ethan escape from the police station. When he'd found the other man on the floor of the interrogation room, bruised and bloodied, he'd felt a powerful need to protect and help him. It went beyond the fact that Ethan Mars was innocent and desperately trying to beat the clock to find his son. Ethan actually thought that he was schizophrenic and was the one responsible for taking his own son. Norman had figured out that it couldn't be true, but Ethan was still ready to turn himself in as the Origami Killer once he had found Shaun. There was an innate goodness underlying that raw conviction that Norman couldn't stop thinking about. It wouldn't let him allow the other man to go down for a series of crimes he hadn't committed. After getting Ethan out of police custody, finding Shaun Mars alive was no longer just about saving the child. It was also about saving the father. There had been no doubt in Norman's mind that if Ethan had lost the sick game the Origami Killer was playing with him, he would have ended up destroying himself in penance for his failure. That devotion was another thing that Norman couldn't get out of his mind. He'd seen plenty of desperate parents, seen plenty of loving families, but Ethan left them all behind with what he had been willing to do to save his child. It broke Norman's heart to think about the fact that Ethan had almost died trying to save one son, only to have some monster test his love for his other son two years later. The killer admitted to Ethan that he had seen his failed attempt to save Jason from being hit by a car, yet had still pushed him beyond his limits to save the only son he had left. It tore at every decent thing inside Norman to imagine that kind of pain,. That was the reason why he relished the memory of sending the killer to his death.
One of Norman's major regrets after the case ended was not following up with Ethan and his son. The lie about being called back to D.C. had been easier to tell than the truth. Norman knew that if he'd met with Ethan, he would have said or done something that would have jeopardized their friendship before it had even begun. There wasn't exactly a page in the FBI manual that told an agent how to handle falling in love with the father of a victim while battling addictions to an illegal narcotic and brain-altering technology issued by said Bureau.
He sighs and starts to dress. The invitation to dinner had been unexpected. It gives him some hope that maybe things aren't completely one-sided. Despite the fact that Ethan had been married and fathered two children with his wife, some investigating and digging had uncovered the fact that Ethan was not unfamiliar with experimenting with men. It had mainly been in college, as was par for the course for some adventurous types, but it had happened. That and when he was asked in a survey for his human sexuality class how he would classify his sexual orientation he had replied, 'I don't believe in labels.' That response had amused Norman when he'd seen it since it was usually code with guys for 'I'm not ready to admit I like dick but get back to me.'
Still, it could only be wishful thinking that any of this could be significant. Norman has to either be prepared for rejection or satisfied with being nothing more than friends with the man he's spent five years wanting. While it would be difficult, he could live with it. After he had read Ethan's book, the feelings that he'd already been harboring had blossomed into something so deep and genuine, it could afford him the strength to be content with simply being near the other man and keeping him safe.
That book. The author Ethan had worked with had chosen to tell the story using a first person point of view, so it was as if Ethan had been speaking directly to him. Norman could feel the torment and gut wrenching panic Ethan had experienced with every trial the killer had put him through. The sick bastard had made a game of it, rewarding Ethan's triumphs with letters that would reveal the address where his son was being held captive. The first trial forced Ethan to drive the wrong way on a highway for five miles in under five minutes. It was a minor miracle that Ethan had not only survived the hair raising ride, but hadn't hurt any innocent drivers in the process. The next trial had forced Ethan to literally crawl through broken glass and then face possible electrocution by walking through an electrified maze in order to get more letters. The third trial called for Ethan to film himself cutting off a finger to continue the sick game. Finally, he had been faced with the choice of drinking poison that would allow him time to find his son but kill him mere minutes later. By the time Norman had finished the book, he felt as if he'd been put through the same wringer Ethan had. That didn't change with subsequent readings, and when he reached the point where he had practically memorized every word, he knew he needed to ensure Ethan never went through anything like that ever again. The logical part of his head told him he was obsessed with a man he barely knew and that he should just leave well enough alone. But the emotional part of him knew that if he was going to survive the future that loomed in front of him, he had to at least try to make Ethan a part of that life.
Things would have moved along faster if Norman's plans hadn't been sidelined by the stint in rehab. He had hit rock bottom when he'd almost died from a tripto overdose at work. The ARI had screwed him up beyond repair, and the tripto was the only thing that prevented him from succumbing to it completely. Unfortunately, like any narcotic, the tripto had its own set of dangers. When it almost cost him his life, the Bureau had taken action. They'd saved him, but it was at the expense of his entire career and the reputation he had spent years earning since the academy. Between the effects of the tripto and the brain damage caused by ARI, it had taken him a few years of therapy to get to a place where he felt able to accept his lot in life. It wasn't until then that he was willing to find Ethan.
A quick glance at the clock and he sees he has about twenty minutes before Ethan's due. He double checks himself in the mirror, wonders if he should change the dark green shirt for a white one, then decides to stay the way he is. He doubts Ethan would really care all that much about how he's dressed. After all, it's just a couple of friends going out for burgers and beers.
A knock on the door startles him, but he quickly answers it and is surprised to see Ethan standing there.
"Hope I'm not too early," he says, looking a little sheepish. "I got here about fifteen minutes ago, but I've just been sitting downstairs. I thought I'd take a chance that you were ready."
Norman can't help smiling at that. "You should have called me," he says. "I would have invited you up for a drink while I finished getting ready."
"I didn't want to intrude," Ethan says, clearly feeling self-conscious. "Not that early, anyway."
"No intrusion at all," Norman assures him. "Just remember for next time, okay?" he says, giving Ethan's shoulder a pat. "You look great, by the way. That color really brings out your eyes." It's true. Ethan's wearing a lapis blue fitted v-neck tee and blue jeans, and obviously doesn't know just how amazing he looks. Norman would bet that it doesn't take the man any effort at all to be so sexy. The blush he receives in return for the compliment is completely endearing, and Norman makes sure to remember to pay him more compliments over the course of the evening.
"Thanks," Ethan says, clearing his throat and gesturing towards Norman's own ensemble. "You look nice too."
"Only nice? I need to try harder."
"Oh, but...I..I..."
Before Ethan can stammer out anything else, Norman lets him off the hook. "I'm sorry, Ethan. Like I said before, you make it easy."
Ethan grins at the realization he's being teased, and shrugs. "Hey, if it amuses you, I don't mind. I think you're earned the right to have fun at my expense," he chuckles good-naturedly.
"That's very generous of you," Norman says, grabbing his wallet from the coffee table and putting it in his back pocket. "I'll have to repay the favor sometime." He's about to open the door for them to leave when their surroundings suddenly change and he and Ethan are standing at the edge of a cliff. He clutches Ethan's arm and breaks out into a sweat.
"Norman? Are you all right?" Ethan asks, holding onto Norman's hand as it grips him even tighter.
"Don't move," Norman whispers, eyes wide as he sees just how close Ethan is to stepping over the edge of the cliff and falling to the jagged rocks below.
"What? Why? What's wrong?" Ethan touches his hand to Norman's face. "Look at me, Norman. Tell me what's going on."
Norman looks at Ethan, sees panic in the other man's eyes. He's aware enough to know that he's the cause of it, but he can't figure out how to make things right.
"Sir, you're hallucinating again and it's frightening Mr. Mars," Sal says, appearing at Norman's side. "Perhaps you should try to focus on the fact that you're safe in your hotel room."
Swallowing hard, Norman nods and looks intently at Ethan. "We're in my hotel room?" he asks softly. "Right? We're safe?"
Ethan nods quickly. "Y-yes," he stammers. "We're in your hotel room. We're safe. I promise. Perfectly safe."
Norman licks his lips and nods again. "We're in my room," he whispers to himself, slowly pulling Ethan closer and tentatively putting his arms around him, needing the reality of that solid warmth to anchor himself. "We're safe."
Ethan accepts and returns the embrace. "That's right, Norman," he says softly. "Look around you."
"That's the problem," Norman says, his fingers clutching at Ethan's back. "I don't see my room right now."
"I...I don't understand..."
"Just...give me a second," Norman whispers, closing his eyes and letting his cheek briefly rest against Ethan's. He inhales slowly, smelling a mixture of soap and aftershave, and wants so badly to kiss the warm skin it's almost painful to hold back. But he does, and it's that struggle that finally allows his brain to readjust its focus.
"Sir, you can open your eyes now," Sal says after a few moments.
Taking a deep breath, Norman does just that and sees that they're in his suite, safe and sound. That's when he realizes just how tightly he's holding onto Ethan.
"I'm... God, Ethan, I'm so sorry," he says, flustered as he reluctantly lets go. "I feel like an idiot."
Ethan shakes his head. "Please, don't. I take it I just witnessed some of the side effects you mentioned in the park? The hallucinations?" His voice isn't judgmental. In fact, Norman's struck by just how understanding and gentle it is.
"You did." Norman runs a hand across his forehead to wipe away the sweat. He can't bring himself to look at Ethan. All this time he had planned to find the man he was in love with to see if they could ever be together, and he's just ruined any chance he might have had.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Norman shakes his head. "I don't know if it would help."
Ethan places a hand on Norman's upper arm and rubs it reassuringly. "I think it would. It would help me, anyway. I'd like to understand what just happened to you."
Norman wants to scream that Ethan has no right to be so understanding to a man who has been lying to him since orchestrating their meeting in that coffee shop. Instead, he looks at the floor and bites his bottom lip.
"Now would be a good time to reconsider telling him the truth, sir," Sal says, garnering a sharp look from Norman.
"What just happened?" Ethan asks. "What are you seeing now?"
"Just...someone who..."
"Someone?" Ethan looks in the direction Norman's facing. "You see a person?"
"I... Yeah..." Norman says before finally turning back to Ethan and looking him in the eye again. "There are a lot of things I need to tell you, Ethan," he begins, "and I'm so afraid that once you hear all of it, you'll walk out that door and never want to see me again."
Ethan tilts his head slightly and narrows his eyes. "I did make it clear how much I owe you, right?"
"Yes, but--"
"Then that should give you some clue as to how unlikely it is I'll never want to see you again." He squeezes Norman's arm. "Talk to me. Please. I need to know you'll be honest with me no matter what." He pauses. "I can take a lot of things, but I can't take not being able to trust you. Not after what happened with Madison."
And there it is. There is no way that Norman can continue deceiving Ethan about anything, no matter how many reservations he has or how afraid he is of saying the wrong thing and revealing too much.
"All right, but before I do, I think we should order some food. I don't feel too much like going out for burgers," Norman says with a pained smile. "If you don't mind, that is."
"As much as I think it's a shame that no one will see just how fantastic we both look," Ethan says with a shy but relieved smile, "I think ordering in is just fine."