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LeVieux family publicly requests FBI to arrest youngest son Camille for questioning.
Noah watched Camille fall apart right in front of his eyes, those grey eyes never lifting from whatever notification had caused his phone to buzz. He watched those delicate golden eyelashes tremble like they were trying to hold back tears and watched those thin shoulders stiffen in a movement of muscles that seemed automatic. He carefully crawled across the bed to look over Camille's shoulder at the phone screen.
A text message. Five words, half in French. Miss me, mon petit sucre?
Even without knowing French, Noah felt a vague sense of disgust and horror. "Who the hell is that?"
Camille jumped and clutched the phone to his chest, his breath catching and eyes widening. "Please," he whimpered. "Please don't."
Noah sat very still, well aware that any move he made toward Camille in this state would be perceived as a threat. "Don't what, Camille?" he asked as calmly as possible. "Tell me what's going on."
Camille took a shuddering breath in and let it out in the same shaky way. "Noah," he whispered, the whimper still lingering in his voice, "please."
Noah turned his hand palm up on top of the rumpled covers. He waited until Camille grabbed his hand like it was a lifeline and then repeated, "Tell me what's going on."
Camille was trembling so badly it shook Noah's arm. "It can't," he gasped out. "It can't be him. He's dead. It can't. He can't. I can't!" With a scream, he dropped the phone and shoved both of his hands into his hair, clenching at the roots so hard Noah was scared he would tear it straight out of his scalp.
Noah grabbed Camille's hands and gently worked his fingers loose. "It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay. Just tell me what's going on so I can help you."
Camille whimpered as Noah finally pried his hands free. He grabbed Noah's arm with what felt like a bone-crushing grip. "It's not okay. It's not okay!"
Noah ran his hand over Camille's hair in a soothing motion he had used a couple times before. "Sh," he said quietly. "I know." Once Camille had settled somewhat, his head coming to rest on Noah's shoulder, Noah asked, "Can you tell me who texted you?"
Camille's muscles tensed under Noah's hands. "There was no name." To Noah's everlasting relief, he sounded much calmer now. "I don't have the number saved in my contacts. But only one person has ever called me that." A shudder ran through his entire body.
"Who?" Noah pressed gently.
"Blaise," Camille replied, his voice a ghost of sound. "He'd call me that when we were home alone and he was stalking me through the house." He shivered again. "He'd turn off the electricity and hunt me down so he could hurt me."
Noah clenched his jaw. As horrible as this Blaise sounded, Noah almost wanted him to still be alive so he could beat the shit out of him for terrorizing Camille like that. "So you think the text is from him?"
"I know it's from him!" Camille practically screamed into Noah's chest. "I know it! He's not dead! I didn't kill him! He's still alive! He's hunting me down again!"
Noah wrapped his arms tightly around Camille, hoping to trigger the reflexive relaxation of Camille's parasympathetic nervous system. "Sh," he hushed. "He can't hurt you now. You're with me, and I won't let anyone hurt you, okay?" He rubbed his hand down Camille's bare back. "Sh. I'm here. You're okay."
Camille slumped against Noah, slowly calming down. His mussed blond curls tickled Noah's neck and the bottom of his jaw as he trusted the full weight of his head to Noah's shoulder. He had stopped screaming, but soft little sobs still shook his frame. "Please," he whimpered again, his lips wet against the skin left bare by Noah's partially unzipped hoodie. "Please don't let him find me. Please."
Noah tightened his embrace. "I won't," he promised. "You're safe here with me. I promise." He pulled Camille into his lap and gently started rocking him while petting his hair, something Noah's foster mom had found helped him whenever trauma came knocking. "I promise," he repeated in a whisper.
Camille let out the quietest of whines and then surrendered to Noah's motion, going completely limp with his eyes shut.
Noah kept whispering reassurances until Camille took a deep breath in and sat up. He trailed his hand down Camille's back. "You good now?"
Camille nodded. "Yeah," he said softly. After a pause, he added, "Thank you."
Noah smiled gently. "Of course, angel."
To Noah's relief, Camille returned the smile, albeit a bit shakily.
A thought crashed into Noah's mind, leaving aftershocks of horror. "Does me calling you 'angel' remind you of your brother?"
Camille's smile softened, becoming more genuine. "No, Noah." He cupped Noah's face in his pale hands. "You're so different from him. You don't scare me, I promise. I love that you think I'm anything like an angel. It's sweet."
Noah chuckled and let Camille back down onto the bed. "That's a relief. Want me to grab you some clothes from your room?" he asked as he got up.
Camille stood up as well, walking over to Noah's dresser and pulling a drawer open. "I can just wear some of yours. If you're okay with that," he added quickly.
"Totally fine with that," Noah assured him.
Camille got dressed in record time, even faster than Noah on a morning he was running late. He cast a smug grin over his shoulder at Noah's expression of surprise. "Was that somehow attractive, ma moitié ?"
Noah could not close his unhinged jaw. "Ma– what did you just call me?"
Camille snorted. "Yeah, that was attractive," he said as if to himself. "Ma moitié," he repeated. "It's like, you know, a pet name."
Noah crossed his arms. "I'm not your pet."
Camille swept across the floor, even though he was just in sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt, and seated himself on Noah's lap. "Don't play dumb, ma moitié," he purred, sliding his hands up Noah's chest to play with the hoodie strings. "A pet name is an affectionate nickname for a loved one."
Noah's hands automatically found Camille's waist. "And I'm one of your loved ones?"
"Perhaps my only one."
Noah tightened his grip. "You can't just say stuff like that."
"Yes, I can. It's a free country, isn't it?"
Noah chuckled almost against his will. "Yeah, I guess so. But don't distract me. What did you call me?"
"Ma moitié," Camille repeated once again. "It means…" There was a pause as he seemed to search his mind for the English equivalent. "...soulmate, I guess."
Noah hugged Camille to his chest with a sudden movement. "I hope you know I'm never letting you go again after that," he whispered in Camille's ear, which promptly flushed cherry red. His hand slid down to rest on Camille's hips – not sensual, just gentle claiming. "You're so perfect you make even my Walmart clothes look designer."
Camille snorted a laugh, the warm breath brushing Noah's cheek. "You buy clothes at Walmart?"
Noah glared. "Are you making fun of me?"
Camile shook his head, even though a smile still curved his lips. "It's just funny. You're a doctor in a limited field. You're paid a crap ton of money for it, but you still buy your clothes at Walmart. Excuse me if I find that somewhat amusing."
Noah rolled his eyes. "You're impossible."
"Perfection is impossible, you know."
Noah reached up and pinched Camille's cheek hard enough to leave a red mark. "I take it back. You're a snarky little fox."
Camille pouted, the action obviously exaggerated but catching Noah completely off guard. "But I don't want to be a fox. I'm your angel, right?"
A wave of adoration washed over Noah. He knew he would never be able to deny those wide grey eyes gazing at him with a longing that matched his own. Not that he would ever want to deny Camille anything. Camille deserved the world, and Noah would give it to him even if he had to rip his own nails out to do so. "Yes, of course," he soothed, dropping the softest of kisses onto the pouting lips. "You'll always be my angel. Nothing will ever change that."
Camille's pout disappeared like clouds making way for the sun, and he leaned forward, setting his chin on Noah's shoulder. "And we can stay like this forever, right? You'll stay with me?"
"Now until forever," Noah promised.
"And you won't let anyone hurt me?"
"Never again." It was a vow Noah would keep with his life. If Blaise or anyone else showed up and tried to even just touch Camille, Noah would tear them apart, no questions asked. He would never make Camille beg for his protection. He would make sure there was never a situation where that was necessary.