bloody knuckles & longing for home.

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Poppy’s heart leapt in her chest as she noted the genuine fear on Noah’s face. All the colour had drained from him, as though he’d seen a ghost, or maybe was the ghost. He was pale and his skin managed to feel both clammy and cold beneath her hands. She was worried, and all she wanted to do was press a kiss to his lips and coax a smile back onto them, to ease the furrow of his brow and reassure him that everything was okay. Whatever had gone wrong, they’d fix it. She was sure of that. 

“Deuxmoi?” Poppy pouted, crinkling her nose. She didn’t know a whole lot about the gossip account, only that they had a taste for drama and a tendency to cause problems for the people she loved. They’d posted a few blind items here and there about Henry and Diego, omitting names but making it painfully obvious who they were talking about. It had caused enough of a stir to unsettle Diego at the time and had left a sour taste in Poppy’s mouth. Most of the time, she didn’t mind what was being said about her as long as it was kind, she was a pretty open book for the most part. But these tabloids didn’t care about kind, and even worse than that they didn’t give a hoot about consent. It was all ill-meaning, bitter people trying to shake things up for a petty pay-out of ten dollars and a publicised crashout from whatever public figure they’d bullied on that particular day. 

Releasing her hold on Noah’s face, she pressed a lazy kiss to the line of his jaw before turning her attention to his phone as it fell into her lap. She snatched it up, shuffling closer to Noah in the process, and shot him a shy smile as she felt his hand slide over her thigh. Even now, in the midst of chaos, they still had tender touches and stolen glances. He was so gentle with her even when tired, stressed and aching. 

She skimmed the headline as her gaze followed the article further down, his words filling her ears. They’re calling me your boyfriend. The words had come tumbling from his lips in a way that implied disdain, and Poppy couldn’t control the melodramatic way her heart thudded in her chest, a knot forming in her stomach. This wasn’t the first time this had happened to them, nor was it the first time Noah had voiced his discomfort at the label. 

“Oh,” she breathed, the word falling flat between them.  

She wasn’t sure what else to say, so she kept reading. Her fingers pinched the screen as she enlarged the photos in front of her. Snapshots from a night before, hazy in her memory but unmistakably clear in ink. She could see Noah’s hand grasping her thigh, fingers digging deep into the softness of her skin while her lips found his neck. There wasn’t anything friendly or platonic about their behaviour in the images, but it wasn’t anything too risqué either. Just two young, single people having fun and making out after a few drinks. 

But she knew how much Noah valued his privacy, and she understood that her level of celebrity put them both under a lot of inspection that he’d never agreed to. She tried to set her feelings aside, fresh hurt stinging behind her eyelids, and focused instead on Noah. 

“They don’t know for sure that it’s me, do they? That could be you and... anyone!” Poppy remarked. She leaned in and pressed a fleeting kiss to his temple, as though she thought the simple pressure of her lips might soothe his headache on their own. She scrolled further down on the artcle as her gaze landed on another, much clearer image. It was Poppy, her face on full display, pressed against a lamppost with Noah’s hand veering dangerously high up her skirt. She blushed, before tossing the phone down on the mattress as though it had burned her. What if her parents saw those photos? 

“Well, that’s just... That’s inappropriate. They can’t do that. Can they? Is that legal?” Maybe she needed to get Ciara on the phone.

Except, that couldn't be true, because Poppy was that celebrity. And she was a real, honest to God musician. No matter how much they dragged her and her bandmates through the mud, their music spoke for itself. He forced himself to breathe through the sharp pain pulsing at his temples, working to calm himself down. Hell, Alexandra Knight had ended up on this page, and he liked her music. It wasn't a career ending move. In fact, for lots of people, he imagined it would be career defining. He just didn't want to be one of those people.

He let out a soft sigh as Poppy pressed her lips to his jaw, longing to do nothing more than roll over and go back to bed. He was 85% sure Kara would never see this. She was constantly on some digital detox, yoga retreat, manic spree of deleting all her social media accounts. But it only took one girlfriend to push her phone in her face at brunch to let her know her boyfriend had been fucking around. Again.

"Keep scrolling." he murmured, kicking himself free of the bedsheets and dropping to a crouch at the side of the bed, hunting around in Poppy's bag for something to relieve his headache. He knew if he were to look at her face, he'd break. He couldn't tell her that the problem wasn't that he'd been caught kissing Poppy Martin, it was that he'd been caught kissing anyone.

He should've stuck to messing around with up and coming starlets, other roadies. His life would've been a lot easier. But then, he would've never had Poppy.

"They can and they fucking did it, babe." he scowled. Certain there was nothing in Poppy's bag, the contents now upturned on the floor and sliding beneath the bed, he groaned and slumped against the wall. Sandwiched between the wall and the bed, his knees pressing against the bed frame, he felt contained, safe, like everything wasn't spiralling out of control. It reminded him of being a little kid, when his Mom would stretch bedsheets from the bed to the windowsill, creating a little fort for him to hide inside when his Dad came home, drunk and looking to take his misery out on somebody else.

"This is so shitty." he murmured.

DJO

Noah: i swear. on my life

Noah: thanks, man

Noah: i swear. on my life

Flynn: Yeah, man, of course it’s gonna hurt her feelings. You’ve been cheating on her. For years.

Flynn: And you’ve been lying to Poppy. I’m lying to Rae for you, do you know how fucked that is?

Flynn: You’re not even dating Kara, not really. You ghost her calls, you barely see her, and you spend every other day with Poppy, don’t you think it’s time to let Kara move on?

Noah: i’m an asshole. you can say it

Noah: i don’t know

Noah: she’s special, that’s for sure

Noah: feels weird to keep lying to her

Noah: it’s gonna hurt her feelings

Noah: kara, i mean

Noah: poppy too. i’m sure. if i decide to tell her

Noah: i’m an asshole. you can say it

Noah: i don’t know

Noah: she’s special, that’s for sure

Noah: feels weird to keep lying to her