ANYTHING > HUMAN

You were no fashion police, but at one glance, you knew it was a disaster.

With a grin so blindingly wide, your 6’3 heavily tattooed husband stood in front of you, proudly showing his revolutionary pattern-on-pattern ensemble. Noah’s big hands rested on his hips as he twirled like a princess— a princess who looked like a hobo dressed in a striped long-sleeve shirt paired with black metal band shorts with a totally unreadable print and, of course, his favorite grimy slip-ons.

“Pretty cool, huh?” He asked, voice so smug as if he had just made a fashion breakthrough.

You only shook your head in response, groaning as you rubbed your forehead. You had been with Noah for 12 years now, yet you still had not gotten used to his sudden bursts of cringe-worthy antics now and then.

“That Austin kid is gonna stay away from my baby girl after today,” he added, showing his overprotective girl-dad self once again.

You had just finished lunch at home, and Noah was preparing to run some errands for you and pick up your daughter from school along the way.

It was supposed to be your turn to accomplish those, but your husband insisted on doing them instead after your 10-year-old had gushed about this ‘cute boy with hazel eyes’ in her class over dinner last night. Apparently, the said boy— Austin— had told her she was pretty, which made Noah stop mid-bite, his brows raising in both curiosity and disapproval.

“Noah, you’re just gonna embarrass her!” And me, you wanted to add.

He was already making heads turn at the school with his head-to-toe ink; you didn’t wanna know how the other parents would react to this abomination of an outfit.

But maybe you were just thinking about it too much.

“Babe, that’s the point,” he snickered. “No sane boy would ever want to go near my little girl again if her father looks this cool.”

You couldn’t help but snort. Nothing about him at the time was close to cool. If anything, he looked like a dork.

Your kind of dork.

He continued, “I’d do this over and over again until she’s 18.”

“She’s gonna hate you so much,” you said between giggles, pulling his head down to peck his lips before combing your fingers through his growing hair.

“Nah, she’s 10, I can just buy her forgiveness with a brand-new iPad.”

You swatted his chest. “Stop spoiling your daughter!”

“Baby, let me enjoy this while I still can,” he countered, smirking as he placed a kiss against your head, his arms tightly wrapped around your shoulders. 

Huffing, your giant husband whined. “It seemed like yesterday when I was building her unicorn castle in the backyard... she was squealing, running away from daddy tickles... Now, she’s telling us a boy likes her? And she likes it? What’s next? She’s gonna go on a date? She gonna marry this Justin kid?"

“Austin,” you corrected, trying to hold back a laugh.

He groaned, resting his chin on the crown of your head. “Before we know it, my princess is gonna be off to college, and I have no one left to spoil rotten.”

You chuckled against his chest, your hands gently rubbing his back like you’re soothing a baby.

An overdramatic baby.

As Noah quieted down, you looked up at his pouting face. A smirk tugged at your lips as an idea popped into your mind.

Just to appease your whining husband, and perhaps, save you and your daughter from the humiliation today.

“Baby, how about you lose these ugly clothes…” You paused, letting your hand rest against the small of his back. Biting your lip, you playfully batted your lashes at him before dropping what could be the best thing your husband had heard all day.

Or perhaps, all year. 

“…And I give you another one to spoil then?”

###

“Daddy, you looked like a princess!”

You snorted at how Callie gushed at the old Bad Omens photos her Uncle Nicholas was showing her. 

Ruffilo came to visit to discuss some band matters with Noah, and as soon as they finished, your daughter was quick to drag her ‘favorite uncle’ to the living room couch so she could show him her new dolls— the latest addition to her collection, much to your anime fan husband’s dismay. 

Noah wished she instead collected anything from any of the shows he forced her to watch with him. But not even the cute Pokemons won over the dolls she now laid out on the table, enthusiastically introducing each one of them to Nicholas with the names she came up with.

Your 4-year-old then animatedly described to her uncle how she loved to braid each one of her dolls’ hair, prompting Ruffilo to shift to a related topic involving adult men with long hair in a then-rising metal band, a few years before she was even conceived.

“Hey, how about Uncle Jolly and me? Didn’t we look like princesses, too?” Ruffilo pouted at your daughter while zooming his phone screen into the rest of the members with ‘majestic mane’ as he called it.

“Yeah, but you and Uncle Joll still have long hair. Daddy doesn’t anymore!” With eyes shining bright, she climbed onto his lap as she’d always do, checking each of the photos like a quality assurance inspector.

“Let me get this straight— your dad gets to be a princess because he cut his hair?” Nicholas chuckled while ruffling the hair of his best friend’s mini-me. 

“Yes, daddy was like Rapunzel!” Callie’s mouth formed an O as she looked from the phone to the man in question, who just appeared from the kitchen doorway with his freshly brewed coffee. “Daddy, did a witch cut your hair to keep you in a castle?”

You could tell Ruffilo was trying his best not to laugh at how your little girl’s imagination was running. “Dude, you never told us you were in a fairytale.”

Noah just playfully rolled his eyes before sitting across from his daughter and best friend. “Yes, baby, and Uncle Folio was the witch.”

“No, he’s not, daddy. He’s the soldier, and Uncle Joll, too!”

“Why do they get to be soldiers?” Noah raised a brow at her before bringing his cup to his smirking lips.

“Because… They’re strong! Uncle Nicky hits big drums and then Uncle Joll...” she paused, thinking of how to describe the Swede. “Uncle Joll… looks grumpy.”

You giggled to yourself. Like her father never looked grumpy.

“How about me, Cal? Who am I?” Ruffilo swiped to the next photo, which you assumed was of his younger self.

“Hmm… You are the prince, Uncle Ruff!” Her eyes were twinkling as she craned her neck towards him. “‘Cos you have beautiful eyes.”

“Aww, thank you, bub,” Nicholas kissed the crown of her head. 

“Hey, isn’t mommy supposed to be the prince if I were the princess?” 

“Nope, mommy is the queen,” Callie dragged the last syllable as she clapped her hands with the new role she had come up with. “‘Cos she always tells you to clean, daddy.”

Now it’s your husband’s turn to snort loudly before putting down his coffee to laugh at your daughter’s remark. Ruffilo joined in as both guys eyed you with full amusement.

Before you could even protest, Noah probed. Probably on your behalf. Or not.

“Does she, really?” 

“Yes, daddy. Every day.”

“Hey, I clean without being told!” He dramatically scoffed at your little girl, to which she giggled. “Besides, princesses shouldn’t clean the house, right?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have princess powers anymore,” she quickly retorted before bringing her full attention back to Ruffilo’s phone. “‘Cos you don’t have long hair. The witch cut it, remember?”

Noah gave you a knowing look and rolled his eyes at both the funny logic and how your daughter’s sass had started to show. 

“Don’t even pretend to be shocked, babe.” You made your way to his relaxed figure on the single-seater couch, fingers softly raking through his hair as if it’s muscle memory. “For one, I know she did not get that from me.”

He threw you a pout in response. “Mean.”

Callie’s squeal brought both of your attention back to her happily perched on Ruffilo’s lap. Dolls long forgotten, your daughter was smiling so wide at the next photos she was seeing on the phone.

“Daddy had cat ears! Your big head looked so funny, daddy.”

“Hey!” 

You laughed at Noah’s offended face as your daughter giggled, her chubby cheeks turning pink from grinning, eyes never leaving Nicholas’ phone screen. 

Of course, those cat ears were iconic. Even after all these years, fan accounts would still find ways to post photos of a younger Noah streaming with those small cat ears on his headphones. 

You even remembered borrowing those exact headphones to join Zoom calls for work during the COVID quarantine. Your workmates always found it cute, then later on, teased you when some of them realized it actually belonged to your rockstar boyfriend.

“Hey, babe,” Noah called, his voice laced with a new wave of amusement. “Do you remember?” 

“Remember what?” You looked down, seeing Noah’s doe eyes staring right back at you, now glinting with mischief. 

“The cat headphones,” he mumbled, as if trying not to be heard by your little human a few feet away from the two of you. 

You scrunched up your eyebrows and stared at him, figuring out what he was implying. 

Noah took a sip of his coffee before quietly laughing at your confused face. “You know, for someone who actually broke those precious headphones, you sure are forgetful.” 

“What? I didn’t…”

Then it hit you. 

The off-cam Zoom call five years ago. You, with those headphones working on his desk. Noah, surprising you from behind with small kisses on your exposed shoulder. He, whispering how you’re turning him on with those cat ears—how he couldn’t wait for your meeting to finish so he could take you to bed with the ears on. You, sending him death glares, trying to be quiet in case you forgot to mute yourself. Both of you ending up fucking in his bed right after you closed your laptop. Noah, insisting the cat ears remained on you as he took you roughly from behind– too rough that it knocked off the headphones, which the two of you ended up rolling into when you changed positions. 

Recalling those moments now had you mortified and amused at the same time. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said when we heard it crack.”

“Noah!” 

The two of you quietly laughed together at the memory, temporarily tuning out your daughter, who was still enjoying the slideshow of photos courtesy of her Uncle Nicholas. 

“When I grow up, I wan’ be like daddy. I wan’ a hair that long and pretty! Mommy, can I grow my hair like daddy?”

It wasn’t long until you had to compose yourself to answer your little girl. You cleared your throat, “Of course, baby.”

Noah couldn’t help but grin so wide at the thought of his daughter wanting to be like him, of all people. She might not acquire his taste for anime, but her wanting to look like him sent little butterflies to his stomach. 

Not that she needed the same hair to actually look like him. If anything, Callie was his clone, despite the fact that it was you who carried her for 9 long months. 

“Babe,” Noah called your attention once more, but now, his eyes stayed on your daughter yapping. He chuckled softly, “Do you remember what happened a few weeks after we broke the cat headphones?”

Feeling your heart warming, the memories came flooding back: you, vomiting one morning, peeing on a stick while Noah waited outside the bathroom door, the tears from both joy and worry, the first ultrasound, the first time you heard your baby’s heartbeat. 

Your hands found Noah’s shoulders as you leaned down to press a kiss to his temple. 

Sighing in content, you giggled into his ear. “Of course. Worth all the broken headphones.” 

###

You looked at him, eyes gleaming. 

”Remind me to come on tour with you more often,” you said. 

”Gladly. May I ask why?” he grinned. 

”If these are the kinds of hotels you’re staying at these days,” you swept a hand in the general direction of the buffet. ”This is the greatest hotel breakfast I’ve ever seen!”

A few moments later you were tucking on a large selection of dishes. Scrambled eggs, pancakes, yoghurt parfait, fruit and croissants. You happily slurped your orange juice when you caught your boyfriend looking intently at your food before quickly typing something on his phone.

”…What?”

Noah tilted his head a little. 

”Just making sure.” 

”Sure of what?”

He flipped his phone around, showing you the screen. It was a google search. 

”Can pregnant women eat cantaloupe?”

”NOAH!”

He just grinned at you. You rolled your eyes and continued eating. Noah scrolled for another moment. 

”Have you started taking prenatal vitamins?”

”Have I done what?”

”Prenatal vitamins?” 

”Noah, I’ve known for ten days.”

He raised an eyebrow.

”That’s plenty of time.”

You just looked at him. 

”…Do you have any?”

”No.” 

”We’re buying prenatal vitamins today,” he informed you. ”Folic acid is very important, apparently.”

Nick made his way down to breakfast earlier than usual, coffee already on his mind. Truth be told, he hadn’t slept particularly well and could really use the caffeine. He had tossed and turned for hours, sleep evading him after leaving the two of you outside the restaurant the night before. 

As he stepped into the breakfast room he instinctively searched for Noah. He found him almost immediately. Even from his spot behind you, Nick could tell that your shoulders had dropped. You were leaning across the table, playfully swatting Noah on the arm. 

Nick watched Noah put both hands up in front of him in what seemed to be defeat. And then Noah looked up, meeting Nick's gaze from across the room. His face broke into the widest grin Nick had seen in days. ”Thank fuck,” Nick huffed as he made his way over. 

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked up to see Nick. You smiled up at him and he returned the smile. 

”You told him.”

You nodded.

”About fucking time,” he huffed. ”It was getting hard for me too.” 

Nick turned to Noah who was already on his feet. Neither of them said a word. Nick simply pulled his friend into a hug. Nick pulled away just enough to look him in the eye.

"Congratulations, man.”

Noah's face lit up.

“…Thanks.”

Once he’d sat back down again, Noah piped up. 

”Did you know she hasn’t started taking prenatal vitamins?” 

Nick's gaze reached you, sitting with your arms across your chest with brows furrowed.

”Enough with the damn vitamins, Noah!”

The morning air was crisp, the kind that made you instinctively pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself. Chicago was only just waking up. People hurried past with takeaway coffees in hand, cyclists weaving between taxis whilst dog walkers filled the sidewalks.

The city looked different today, you thought as you slipped your hand into Noah’s. 

Or maybe… you did.

Yesterday, Chicago had been little more than blurred streets and towering buildings rushing past the taxi window. On your walk it had been no more than blurred shadows at the edges of your tunnel vision. You’d been too consumed by the secret weighing on your chest to notice much else.

Today, you noticed everything.

The early morning sun reflected off the glass skyscrapers, making them shimmer against the bright blue sky. Trees and bushes were beginning to bloom. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the familiar rumble of the elevated train. You smiled to yourself.

Turns out the taxi driver had been right.

Chicago really was beautiful.

”Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Noah shrugged. 

”The guys have it covered.”

You glanced up at him. 

”You’re playing in front of ten thousand people tomorrow.”

”Yeah, but the only thing I absolutely have to do is soundcheck tomorrow,” he said. ”Besides, you know that Nick wouldn’t let me.”

Every time you crossed a street, Noah made sure that he was closest to the traffic. At one point it seemed like holding your hand wasn’t enough. Noah put his arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. 

Suddenly, he stopped. You followed his gaze to your right. A pharmacy. He winked at you. 

”Noah… no. I—”

He pressed a long finger to your lips, shushing you. 

”Angel,” he said. ”I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

So that’s how you found yourself by the vitamin shelf. It was absolutely overwhelming. Noah shifted his weight onto one leg, folding one arm across his chest while the other hand came up to his chin. His thumb rested beneath his jaw as his index finger tapped thoughtfully against his lips, his brows furrowing as he studied the shelf.

”Why are there like… Twenty different kinds?” 

”I don’t know.”

He glanced up at you. 

”Would you like tablets? Gummies?”

”I don’t know.”

”These ones are organic.” 

”…Amazing.” 

He reached for a bottle, turning it over in his hands. 

”Supports healthy fetal development,” he read aloud. He nodded his head gravely. ”Sounds important.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at him. 

He carried the little bag of vitamins and a new tub of your favorite hand cream, which he had picked up almost subconsciously, out of the store with immense pride. 

”You’re such a dork.”

”Yeah,” he said, once again putting his arm around you. ”But I’m your dork.”

The Starbucks sign came into view a few blocks later. 

“Finally,” you sighed dramatically. “I’ve been thinking about their blueberry muffin all morning.” 

Noah chuckled as he held the door open for you. 

The place was busier than you expected, the line almost stretching to the entrance. The rich smell of freshly ground coffee mixed with vanilla and baked goods filled the room. You glanced at the line, and then towards the restrooms. 

“Can you order something for me? I’ll be right back.” 

“Of course.” 

Standing on your tiptoes you gave Noah a kiss on the cheek before disappearing towards the back of the coffee shop. When you returned, Noah was already waiting near the pickup counter with two paper cups in his hands and a small paper bag tucked under one arm. 

He extended one of the cups towards you with a small smile. You noticed the little tag hanging from a small sting. 

“Tea?” 

“Cutting down, remember?” 

You took it from him and tried it. It was surprisingly fruity and sweet. 

“You do realise that there is caffeine in tea too, right?” you asked as you made your way back outside. 

“...There is?” 

“Yeah. More or less, depending on the tea.” 

Noah slipped a hand down his jacket pocket, pulling his phone out. 

“Noah, no.” 

“I just…Let me check something.” 

You watched him for a moment as he frowned down at his phone, undoubtedly reading yet another article about pregnancy.

Twenty-four hours ago, you'd convinced yourself he would fall apart. That he'd panic. That he'd resent you for turning both of your lives upside down.

Instead he was googling what you could eat, how much caffeine you could have and buying prenatal vitamins like they were the most important purchase he'd ever make.

God, he was already becoming insufferably overprotective.

And yet, somehow, it made your heart ache with adoration for this man. 

Noah exhaled. 

“Okay, yeah. We’re good.” The city gradually gave way to quieter streets until you found yourselves wandering through a small park. The noise of traffic faded into the distance, replaced by birdsong and the rustling of leaves overhead. You walked in silence for a while, content just to walk hand in hand. To be together. 

“What happens now?” he asked after a while. 

“What do you mean?”

“I guess there has to be some kind of… I don't know... process?” 

“You mean healthcare wise?” 

He nodded. 

“I have an appointment next week,” you informed him. “On Tuesday."

He stopped walking, turning to face you completely. 

“I’ll be there.” 

“No, Noah. You won’t.” 

He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it a bit. 

“Yes I will.” 

“Noah. Babe. You’ll be in Canada.” 

“So?” 

“...So I’ll be back home. In Los Angeles. In America,” you put emphasis on the last word. “And you’ll be in Canada.” 

“We’ll cancel,” he stated simply. “I’ll get sick. I’ll lose my voice. Can’t sing.” 

You shook your head firmly. 

“No you won't. Thousands of people bought tickets,” you reasoned. “They’ve been looking forward to it for months.” 

There was something indistinguishable in his eyes. A determination that gave way to something like sadness.

“I don’t… I don’t want to miss anything,” he whispered. 

Stepping forwards, you wrapped your arms around him. He melted into you, resting his cheek on the top of your head. One of your hands found its way into the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching his skin lightly with your nails. 

“I know honey… I know.” 

He was silent for a moment. Then he mumbled into your hair. 

“I’m scared you’re going to have to do too much of this without me.” 

Oh. Your sweet, sweet man. 

You leaned back a little. He avoided your gaze. 

“Noah…” you breathed. “Noah, look at me.” 

He did, and you cupped his face in your hands. 

“I won’t be. I was… I was terrified coming here. I was so scared to tell you,” you stroked one of his cheeks with your thumb. “But I’m not anymore. I know you’ll be with me every step of the way, even if that sometimes might be over the phone,” you said before placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

“You’ve made that very clear.” 

Noah rested his forehead against yours for a moment before letting out a quiet breath.

"Okay."

You smiled.

"Okay?"

He nodded.

"Okay."

As you took his hand in yours, the conversation drifted effortlessly from one completely unimportant topic to another. Music. Nick’s terrible taste in movies. Whether blueberry muffins from Starbucks really were worth the hype. 

“I don’t think they are. There’s better ones out there,” Noah argued. 

“Then why the fuck am I sharing mine with you?” you laughed. 

“Because there’s no better one right in front of us.”

It felt strangely wonderful.

To talk about nothing at all.

To talk about everything.

“Same setlist tomorrow?” you asked.

“…Yes?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Can I request a song?” 

“No.” 

“Rude.”

“…You can request one. I’m not making any promises though.”

“Broken youth.”

“Absolutely not.” 

“I’m kidding. But I miss The Grey.” 

Noah tilted his head, lips pursed in thought as a quiet hum escaped him.

“…Maybe.” 

”Yay!” you squealed.

You couldn’t help yourself. Smiling, you reached up to pat his shoulder before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as the two of you continued walking.

You were halfway through telling him about the time in high school when you had escaped a pop quiz by climbing onto the school roof when your arm suddenly tugged backwards.

You frowned, taking another step before realising Noah was no longer walking beside you.

“…Babe?”

Turning around, you found him standing perfectly still. His eyes were fixed on the display in the window in front of him. 

Tiny knit hats. Soft, cream coloured blankets. A wooden crib. Fluffy teddy bears and a pair of the smallest socks you’ve ever seen. 

You smiled to yourself.

”…Want to go in?”

He didn’t answer right away. Peeling his eyes from the display he looked at you and shook his head slightly. 

”Okay.” 

You turned to resume walking, but once again Noah was like an anchor. 

”Maybe just for a minute?” he said in a small voice. 

”Of course, babe,” you smiled. 

A soft chime sounded above the door as you stepped inside.

The store felt quiet compared to the busy streets outside. Warm light spilled down from the ceiling lamps, bathing the room in a soft glow. Wooden shelves lined the walls, neatly stacked with folded blankets in cream, sage greens and dusty blue. Tiny knitted hats hung beside rows of impossibly small socks, while plush teddy bears sat patiently among baskets filled with pacifiers and teething rings.

Both of you stood still for a moment, just looking around. Noah's hand twitched slightly in yours.

”Do you guys need any help today?” came the soft-spoken voice of the woman behind the register.

”No,” you smiled. ”We’re just looking.”

Noah’s gaze wandered slowly from shelf to shelf. Tiny cardigans. Soft blankets. Strollers. Stuffed animals. A wall lined with baby bottles in every shape and size.

He took a tentative step forwards, hand slipping out of yours. Noah picked up a pair of tiny white socks with a pair of blueberries embroidered on them, turning them over in his hands.

“…No.”

”What?”

He held them up to you. 

”…There’s no way,” he whispered. ”They’re too small.” 

And they were. Everything in the store was too small. It was hard to believe that anyone could ever be so little. You watched your boyfriend move around the store, sometimes stopping to look at something that caught his eye. He was still holding the pair of socks. You knew Noah was a big man. That he was broad and tall, but you had gotten used to his size over the years. Something about the contrast of him and the items on display made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. Your tall, broad shouldered, tattooed metal frontman of a boyfriend surrounded by impossibly small socks, shoes and onesies. You sneaked a photo of him with your phone, wanting to capture the moment forever. 

A few moments later Noah stood looking down at the socks in his hands. His thumb gently brushed over the tiny embroidered blueberries.

”I know it’s too early,” he began. ”And I don’t want to jinx anything…” 

”Let’s get the blueberry socks,” you said. ”For our Blueberry.” 

As you stepped back out onto the sidewalk, Noah glanced down at the little bag in his hand and smiled to himself.

By the time the two of you made it back to the hotel, the sun had begun its slow descent behind the Chicago skyline. You kicked your shoes off the second the hotel room door clicked shut.

”Oh my gooood,” you groaned dramatically as you fell backwards on the bed. ”My feet.” 

Noah chuckled and plopped down on the bed beside you. Without a word, you rolled onto your side and tucked yourself against him, resting your head on his chest as you hooked one leg over his. His arm came around you instinctively, his fingertips drifting lazily up and down your spine.

You let out a contented hum, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

”Worth it though,” he said.

”Mhm,” you mumbled in agreement. ”It’s been a nice day.”

”Wanna take a nap?” he asked. ”I’ve made a reservation in three hours.” 

You looked up at him, a small smile playing on his lips.

”A reservation?”

”Yeah. At this nice little Italian place I’ve wanted to try since the last time we played here,” he said. ”I think you’ll like it.” 

The restaurant was tucked away on a quiet side street, far enough from the bustle and sirens of downtown that the city noise faded as the door of the restaurant closed behind you. 

The lighting was subdued, casting soft shadows across exposed brick walls and dark wooden tables. Large shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling displayed a large selection of wine bottles. There was soft music playing from hidden speakers, the sound mixing with the gentle hum of conversation and the clinking of cutlery. The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with the rich scent of cooked garlic and fresh basil. Noah gave his name and the waiter led the two of you towards a secluded table in the very back of the restaurant. 

“This is nice,” you murmured as you sat down. 

Noah smiled. 

“I thought you’d like it.” 

Everything on the menu sounded good. You flipped the pages for what had to be the sixth time. 

“This is impossible.” 

He looked up from his own menu. 

“What is?” he asked. 

“Everything sounds so good,” you groaned. 

“Can’t decide?” 

You put your menu down on the table and started to point out everything that sounded good. Noah couldn’t help but grin.

The waiter came back with your drinks, lemonade for you and a glass of wine for him. 

“Have you decided?” 

You opened your mouth to say that you needed a little more time, but Noah was quicker. 

“Yeah, we’re ready to order,” he said, winking at you. 

You were? 

“We’ll take the burrata, the arancini and the fried calamari to start…” he began. “And then we’ll take the mushroom ravioli, the cacio e pepe, the eggplant parmigiana… We’ll also do the osso buco and the lasagna… You know what? We’ll do the grilled salmon and the vodka rigatoni too.” 

The waiter quickly jotted down the order and asked if you wanted a bread basket for the table, which Noah said that you wanted. When the waiter left, you simply stared at Noah who looked impossibly pleased with himself.

“Honey…” you laughed. “We’re two people! You’ve just ordered enough food to feed a small army.” 

“Technically…” Noah leaned forwards, putting both elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands. “We’re two and a half.” 

“You’re ridiculous."

“You love it.” 

You shook your head, unable to resist smiling. 

“Yeah,” you grinned. “I really do.” 

When the dishes started coming in, you could do nothing but laugh. Noah looked a little sheepish. The waiter placed the final plate on the table before taking a step back to admire his own balancing act. 

“Can I get you anything else?” 

You looked at the table, then at Noah, then at the waiter. 

“...Another table?” 

Noah shrugged. 

“Looks perfect to me!” 

The first few bites were spent in near silence. Not because you didn’t have anything to say, but because every dish Noah had ordered was somehow better than the one before it. You tore off another piece of focaccia before reaching over to try the ravioli. 

“...No.” 

Noah looked up. 

“What?” 

You lifted the dish from the middle of the table, placing it as close as possible to yourself. 

“This one is mine,” you declared. 

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were sharing?” 

“We are. Just not this one.” 

He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. 

“Fine.”

The moment your attention drifted towards the window and the street outside, a fork entered your peripheral vision. 

“I can see you, you know,” you informed him. 

You turned back around just as he stabbed a ravioli, snatching it off your plate with a wide grin. 

“Quality control.” 

“I’ve already established that it’s good.” 

“I should probably double check though,” he winked at you. 

You glared at him as he chewed it. 

“That’s amazing.” 

“I know it is,” you stated. “...You absolute seagull.” 

He looked genuinely offended.

“Not you too!” he groaned. 

“You stole it!” 

“No,” he said. “I borrowed it.” 

“...You ate it.” 

“Ok… fair.” 

Neither of you could help but laugh. Moments later, Noah leaned back in his chair. Your eyes wandered to his hand as he lifted his wine glass to his lips, taking a sip. With long, tattooed fingers he swirled the wine in his glass. 

“You know…” he said. 

“Hmm?” 

“I guess we’re not turning the second guest room into an office after all.” 

You met his gaze. 

“We’re probably gonna need a nursery instead.” 

You smiled. 

“Yeah.” 

But then… 

“The guest bathroom still has to go though,” you deadpanned. 

“Agree. Those blue and brown tiles…” Noah began. 

“...Were definitely a choice.” you finished. 

“Criminal, truly.” 

Conversation with Noah always came so easily, drifting from one topic to another without either of you even noticing. Between bites of pasta and grilled salmon, you found yourselves talking about the house you had recently purchased. Rooms that needed painting, whether or not the garden could actually be salvaged or it needed to be completely redone. You reminded Noah of the shelf he had insisted he could hang up by himself that still hung at a questionable angle. He insisted that it was “artistically crooked”. You remained unconvinced. 

Somewhere along the way, sharing plates had turned from carefully dividing food between them into simply reaching across the table and stealing bites straight from each other's plates. Noah took the last arancini from your plate, you stole the last piece of lasagna from his. He fed you rigatoni from his own fork and even tried to suggest ordering desserts. It was effortless. Familiar. For a little while, the two of you simply existed in your own quiet little bubble. 

Noah turned the stem of his wine glass slowly between his fingers, watching the deep red liquid for a moment. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

You looked up from your plate. 

“Of course.” 

He hesitated for a moment before looking up at you.

“When do we tell people?”

You gave him a small smile. 

“Most people wait… Usually until after week 12.” 

“Do you know what week you’re in right now?” 

“I don’t think I’ll know for sure until next week,” you explained. “But probably five or six.” 

He let out a thoughtful hum. 

“So… That means telling people, other than Nick obviously, is pretty far away…?” 

“It’s… I mean, yeah.” 

Noah nodded slowly, a tiny crease appearing between his brows. 

“Okay,” he said quietly.

And yet his eyes lingered on the table for a second too long, his thumb tracing the rim of his glass of wine absentmindedly. His jaw tightened ever so slightly. You knew him well enough to recognise it. He understood. He just didn’t like it — and didn’t want to burden you with it. 

“You’re trying very hard to look okay with that,” you acknowledged. 

A sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

“Is that so obvious? 

“To me?” you reached across the table, dodging plates, and took his hand in yours. “Always.”

He looked down at your hands, where he was stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“It just seems very far away,” he whispered. 

“It does,” you agreed. 

"It's just… The first trimester is uncertain.” 

He looked up at you, but didn’t say anything. So you went on. 

“The risk of complications is higher early on.”

“Complications?” 

You swallowed. 

“Yeah. Like the risk of miscarriage,” you said gently. “A lot of people wait until around twelve weeks to tell family and friends because the risk of those kinds of complications decreases significantly in the second trimester.” 

Noah was quiet for a moment. 

“... I didn’t know that.”

You gave his hand a squeeze. Noah stared down at the table for a long moment. His thumb traced slow circles across the back of your hand before his fingers absentmindedly intertwined with yours. Your gaze drifted to the familiar mandala covering the back of his hand. You'd traced those lines countless times over the years, sometimes while watching television, sometimes lying in bed, sometimes without even realising you were doing it. For the first time in years, you really thought about the hand in yours. Not because it had changed. But because it would one day hold someone else as gently as it held you. 

“Could we… Could we at least tell the guys?” Noah asked hesitantly. 

“The guys?” 

“Just the band,” he clarified. “And Nick already knows. So just Jolly and Folio.” 

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. There was a quiet, pleading look in his eyes. And you knew exactly why. Not because he couldn’t keep a secret, but because they were his family. And if something were to happen, he’d need them to know why he was falling apart. 

“Okay,” you said softly. “We’ll tell them tomorrow.” 

“Together?” he asked.

“Together,” you confirmed. 

Noah smiled. A genuine smile that softened his features, finally erasing the tiny crease between his eyebrows. 

“They’re gonna lose their minds,” Noah stated simply. 

You couldn’t help but let out a high pitched laugh. 

“Yeah. They will.” 

Noah leaned back in his chair, still holding your hand in his. 

“I can’t wait to tell Jolly and Folio,” he said, pride etched in every line of his face. 

He laughed quietly to himself, almost shaking his head. 

“I can’t wait to tell them that I’m going to be a dad.”

---

You weren’t really sure what reaction you were hoping for, or even what you were expecting. All you knew was that it wasn’t… this. 

You were expecting a reaction. 

You waited. One second. Two. Three. Nothing came. Not a word. Not a sound. No movement. 

The silence stretched out between you until it felt unbearable. Say something. Please. He didn’t. He just looked at you with his lips slightly parted. 

A faint ringing filled your ears. Your stomach dropped and you could feel panic bloom in your chest. 

“I know,” you blurted before he had the chance to find his voice. “I know we never planned this. I know the timing is awful and you’re on tour and that we’ve never actually talked about it and I know Nick shouldn’t have found out before you and—”

Your voice cracked. More tears streamed down your face. 

“I tried to tell you. All day. This is why I came here... I swear I tried.”

You lifted your own hands to cover your eyes. You couldn’t look at him. You even tried to push his hands away from your cheeks, but they were cemented to your face. 

”I just— I didn’t know how. Every time I tried I couldn’t do it. Or something happened,” you cried. ”I was— I am so scared. I’m so, so sorry. I’m so scared, Noah. I’m so scared I’ve ruined- that I’ve ruined everything.” 

And just like that, he moved. He gently pried your hands from your eyes. You couldn’t look at him. 

”I’m sorry,” you whispered again, barely audible. 

”Angel…”

His voice was scarcely more than a breath.

He slid one finger beneath your chin, tilting your face back towards him.

“Look at me.”

Reluctantly, you met his eyes. They weren’t angry. Not disappointed. Barely even confused. Just… soft. 

Before you could say another word, he closed the distance between you. Both of his hands cupping your face, his lips found yours. 

He kissed you as though he was trying to quiet every fear that had been living inside your head. It was silent ”I'm here”. A silent ”You’re not alone in this.” A silent ”We’re okay.”

One of your hands found his bare chest, palm pressing over his heart. The steady, rhythmic beat underneath your fingertips helped slowly bring your frantic pulse down. As the kiss broke apart, Noah rested his forehead against yours, his nose brushed softly against yours as the two of you tried to catch the same shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

His brows knit together. 

“Sweetheart, why are you apologising?” 

“Because I—”

“No.” 

His hands found yours where it still rested over his heart. He put both hands over yours, pressing it against his chest. 

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he began. “I’m sorry you thought that you had to carry this all by yourself.”

You looked up at him, the sincerity written all over his face making your breath hitch. 

“How long have you known?” 

“Ten days.” 

He let out a whistle of a breath. 

“But…” you closed your eyes. “I told Nick.” 

“... Nick knew?” 

You opened your eyes, giving him a small smile. 

“I panicked. I took that old test… Do you remember? The one from two years ago?” 

He nodded. 

“And it was positive. I thought that it might’ve been… expired?” 

“I think they do expire, yeah.” 

“So I bought another three. I even got one of those expensive digital ones.” 

Noah closed his eyes, an almost pained expression painting his features. Like the thought of you doing all of this by yourself physically wounded him. 

“And well… They were all positive. I’m so sorry, I should’ve… I just panicked. I needed to tell someone. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek. 

“I don’t even remember calling him. I think I was on auto-pilot,” you said. “He wasn’t talking to his mom inside that storage closet. It was me. I had just told him.” 

Noah opened his eyes and let out a shaky laugh. 

“I can’t believe he’s managed to act so… normal…since,” Noah said. “But I’ve been wondering why the hell he was talking to his mom in there.” 

The corners of your mouth twitched and you let out the first real laugh since before you took the first test. And it was like you couldn’t stop. It flowed out of you, and Noah started laughing too. For the first time in ten days, the weight on your shoulders didn't feel quite so heavy.

As your laughter subsided, a silence filled the room. But this time, it didn’t feel suffocating. It felt calm. Safe. 

Noah broke the silence first. 

“I’m gonna be a dad.” 

You nodded. 

Noah shook his head slightly before letting out the smallest, disbelieving laugh. 

“...Wow.”

You could see his eyes welling up, the faint glow from the bedside lamp gleaming in them. He blinked rapidly as a single tear escaped, rolling down his cheek. 

The sight of his tears undid you completely, your own tears were not far behind. 

“No, no, no,” he sounded almost panicked. “Baby, no. Why are you crying?” 

“I’m just so happy.” 

And you were, you really were. Laying with your back against his chest in the dark moments later you couldn’t recall ever feeling so happy before. 

He pulled you even closer to him. Almost instinctively, his hand settled on your stomach. This time, though, it didn't stop there. His thumb traced slow, absentminded circles over the fabric of your shirt.

"...Wow," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. 

You placed your own hand over his. 

“I know,” you whispered. 

Noah let out a quiet chuckle. 

“I didn’t think I could love you any more,” he stated. “I guess I was wrong.” 

You intertwined your fingers with his, brought them up to your lips and kissed his knuckles. 

”Are you scared?” Noah asked quietly. 

”Terrified.” 

”Me too.” 

There was a small silence. 

”I can’t believe I’ve missed ten days already,” he admitted. 

”I’m sor—”

”Please stop saying sorry, sweetheart.”

You turned around so you were facing him. The streetlight outside shone through a gap in the curtains, providing just enough light for you to make out his features. You lifted your hand, tracing your fingers over his jaw out of habit. 

“I do wish that you had been there,” you confessed. “It has been so hard lying to you.” 

He sighed. 

“I do too,” he said. “But I know now.” 

“You do.” 

“We’re going to be someone’s parents.” 

You smiled. 

“I hope they look like you,” you whispered. 

“Like me?” he huffed. “I hope they look like their mom.” 

Like their mom. You weren’t prepared for how that word would sound coming from his lips. It made your heart feel so full it almost ached. 

”Did you ever imagine this?” you asked.

He hummed. ”I did, yeah.” 

”You did?”

”Not quite like this, no,” he began. He was quiet for a second. ”But of course I imagined starting a family with you.” 

”Sometimes after shows I’d see dads carrying sleeping kids back to their cars, little legs hanging over their fathers arms” he continued. ”I always wondered what that would be like.”

”You did?”

”Yeah.”

”With me?”

”You goof,” he snorted. ”There has never been a version of my future that didn’t have you in it.”

---

Noah stood still for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer. You could feel his whole body relax as he melted into the embrace. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head, tucking your head under his chin. You simply stood there, your fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie as he nuzzled his nose into your hair. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, rubbing small circles on your back. 

And that was when the floodgates opened. Large, hot tears started to stream down your face and onto the fabric of his hoodie. Noah didn’t notice until he felt your shoulders starting to shake. He tried to lean backwards a little to look at your face, but you buried it deeper into his chest. 

“Woah - baby? Are you crying? What happened?” 

You just clung tighter to him. 

“Is everyone alright? Is your family okay?”

You hiccuped a little. “I just missed you.” 

“Oh sweetheart… You flew all the way here because you missed me?” 

You nodded. 

Noah carefully pried your hands from his where they were tangled in his hoodie. He took half a step back, taking your face in both of his hands. 

“Let me look at you.” 

You finally glanced up to meet his gaze. His eyes softened as they met your watery ones. 

“Oh my sweet angel…” He rubbed his thumbs over your cheeks, wiping your tears away. 

“C’mere,” he whispered as he pulled you back in. 

A few moments later you were sitting cross-legged on the end of Noah's bed while he unpacked your bag as though it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“How long are you staying?” 

“Until after the show, I think.”

“I feel like four hoodies is a bit excessive, no?” 

You frowned at him. “I packed three?” 

Noah shook his head and started to pull hoodies out of your bag. 

“One… Two… Three…” He pointed at the hoodie that he was wearing. “Four!” 

You snorted and threw the nearest pillow you could find at him. 

“Hey!” He threw the pillow back at you. “Here I am, being a nice boyfriend and unpacking for you and you assault me with a pillow?” 

“Dork,” you muttered under your breath. 

“Oh really?” Noah's eyes narrowed playfully.

You lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

A slow grin spread across his face.

“Oh, it's so on.”

Before you even had time to react, he lunged at you.

“Noah!”

You barely managed to squeal before he tackled you backwards onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath the two of you.

“You started this,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I did not!”

“You absolutely did.”

His fingers found your sides. He knew exactly where you were ticklish. You twisted beneath him, trying to squirm away, but every attempt only made him laugh harder. His fingertips danced over your ribs before slipping to your waist, drawing another helpless shriek from you.

“No- No! Noah!”

“You surrender yet?”

You tried pushing him away to no avail, he was so much stronger than you. You planted both hands against his chest and pushed with all your strength. He didn't budge.

“Never!”

“That was the wrong answer.”

He attacked again, relentless.

Laughter echoed through the hotel room as you twisted beneath him, trying desperately to grab his wrists. It was hopeless. You couldn't even catch your breath anymore. Tears stung the corners of your eyes, your stomach already beginning to ache from laughing so hard.

“Noah-” you wheezed between laughs. “Please! Mercy!”

“That's not surrender.”

“I hate you!”

He gasped dramatically.

“That hurts."

“I love you! Mercy! Mercy!”

His hands froze immediately.

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Better.”

Only then he leaned in to steal a kiss before finally letting you breathe. You laid back, both hands clutching your stomach. You took a few deep breaths to stifle your giggles. You turned your head sideways to look at him only to discover that he was already looking at you. 

“I’m so happy you came. I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered.

You smiled. 

“So have I,” you said. And you meant it. You just wished those were the only words you needed to say. 

Noah suddenly jawned, his eyes drooping a little. 

“Tired?” 

He didn’t answer. Instead he simply pulled his phone out from his pocket, set an alarm and pulled you closer to him. Oh how you had missed the feeling of his tall frame surrounding you. You let out a content little sigh and leaned back into him. One of his large hands found its way to your stomach, fingers splaying over your soft skin under your shirt. You went perfectly still. Your heart stuttered. It was such a small gesture, something he usually did - but this time it carried a much heavier meaning. 

Noah fell asleep within minutes. You turned around in his arms so that you could look at him. For a while you simply observed him. How his hair had gotten long enough to fall down in front of his eyes when he slept. For a moment you wondered if he was planning to grow it out or not. You smiled to yourself, remembering the boy you fell in love with seven years ago. His hair had been longer than yours, his cheeks rounder than they were now. The man in front of you looked more chiseled in every way. But he still had the same smile, the skin around his eyes still crinkled in the same way when he laughed. And above all, he still made you feel the same way as he did back then. 

“You’re gonna be such a good dad,” you whispered, barely audible. 

You hadn’t even noticed that you were falling asleep. The familiar sound of Noah's alarm woke you. He reached out without opening his eyes, tapping the bed with his hand to find his phone. His eyes shot open when his hand landed on you. 

“Oh my god. I forgot you were here!” 

“Rude,” you mumbled. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He reached for you, pulling you on top of him. He smiled up at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His lips met yours in a tender kiss. Your heart swelled. You should tell him. Now.

You were just about to open your mouth, but Noah was faster. 

“Coffee?” 

Outside of the hotel you pulled your jacket a closer around you, shivering a little. 

“Cold?” 

“A little.” 

“Want my hoodie?” 

“Noah. You’re not even wearing a jacket.” 

He looked down at his own body. 

“Yeah. I know. But still.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. "Absolutely not. I’ll warm up as we walk.” 

Noah shrugged before reaching for your hand. Your fingers intertwined with his as you started walking. 

“Are you not supposed to be at work? I just realised,” he asked, glancing down at you. 

“I called in sick,” you shrugged. 

He stopped in his tracks. 

“Y/N.” 

“That’s me.” 

“You called in sick to work because you missed me?” he frowned. 

“...Yeah,” you answered hesitantly. Because that was not the whole truth, was it? You started walking again, pulling him with you. You didn’t want to give him the chance to study your expression for too long. 

“What if your boss finds out?” 

“You’re gonna tell her? Gonna snitch on me?” you joked, elbowing him slightly in the ribs. 

He let out a bark of a laugh. 

“Yeah, obviously. Gonna get you fired so you can come on tour with me instead.” 

You rolled your eyes. His tone of voice was sarcastic, but you knew that there was some truth to it. The band had gotten big enough that your income didn’t make that much difference, and Noah had suggested that you could always quit. He’d even suggested that the band could employ you in one way or the other. You thought that it was sweet in a way, that he wanted to spend every day with you, but you also thought that you’d lose your mind if you didn’t have anything of your own. 

The two of you crossed the street together. Once you reached the opposite sidewalk, you found yourself walking closest to the road. A second later, Noah casually guided you to the other side of him, taking your place nearest the traffic. 

“What?”

“You were on the traffic side.”

“So?”

“So now you're not.”

Five minutes later, the familiar green Starbucks sign came into view.

“You're buying,” Noah declared.

“I flew across the country to see you!”

“Exactly. You clearly have money.”

You just huffed and shoved him inside. Your nostrils filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods. You felt yourself almost sniff the air, which made Noah grin and shake his head at you. 

Noah went up to the counter. “Two large americanos please. And one of those cookies.” He pointed towards the cookie display. 

“Actually, could I get mine decaf?” you interjected. 

Noah looked at you, brows furrowed. 

“Decaf?” 

“Yeah… I- I’ve been cutting down on caffeine.” 

“Since when?” 

“Since recently.” 

“...Who are you?” 

You rolled your eyes. Noah turned back to the barista. 

“Okay, one normal and one decaf then, please.” 

Once outside Noah pulled the chocolate chip cookie out of the bag. He split it in two, one half clearly larger than the other. He handed you the larger piece without hesitation. 

The two of you wandered through the streets of Chicago with paper cups warming your hands. Noah filled the afternoon with stories from the tour. A guitar case that had almost been left behind at a gas station. Jolly accidentally walking onto the wrong side of the stage. Nick getting his sandwich stolen by Noah halfway through lunch and refusing to let it go for the rest of the day, five days in a row. 

"Apparently, I have a new nickname.” 

”Oh?”

”They call me the seagull.” 

”…Why?” 

”Nick claims I’ve stolen his food.”

”Noah, you just admitted to me that you have been stealing his food.” 

He shrugged. ”Well… I mean, yeah I have… but I feel like that’s beside the point!”

You laughed until your cheeks hurt.

For a little while, it almost felt like life had paused. There was no countdown. No secret weighing heavily in your chest. It was just you, Noah, and the city stretching out around you. Every now and then he’d bump his shoulder against you, smiling to himself as if though he couldn’t believe you were actually there. 

You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him this relaxed.

He stopped suddenly, pointing at a large building in front of you. 

“That’s the one,” he chirped. 

It looked massive. 

“That's the arena?!” 

He tilted his head sideways, looking down at you. 

“Yeah. Today it’s empty… On Saturday, hopefully not.” 

“Noah, it’s sold out. It’s not gonna be empty,” you stated. 

He shrugged. 

“How many tickets sold?” you asked. 

A shy smile spread across his face. 

“Ten thousand.” 

“Woah.” 

You looked up at him, watching him taking it in. In your mind, he was still the guy playing in front of a few hundred people. He put one arm around your shoulder, tucking you into his side. 

“Crazy, isn’t it? That they’re all coming to see us?”

“I’m so proud of you.” 

“Even after all these years?” 

“Especially after all these years.” 

You stood there for a few seconds. This was as good of a time as any. You closed your eyes for a split second. 

You opened your mouth to speak but stopped as you noticed a group of girls a few feet away. They looked at the pair of you hesitantly. One of them whispered something to another. You could recognise that look from miles away. You gave them an encouraging smile. 

One of them took a cautious step forward.  

“Hi... I'm so sorry to bother you.”

Noah smiled immediately.

“You're not bothering me.”

“We just... we were wondering if it'd be okay to get a quick picture?”

“Of course.”

He glanced at you apologetically before stepping over to them.

You couldn't help but smile as you watched him chat with them for a minute, thanking them for coming to the shows before posing for a couple of photos. He never seemed in a rush. Even after they'd thanked him about six times, he was still the one wishing them a good day as they walked away.

He reached for your hand as the group of girls went the other way, giggling amongst themselves. Walking side by side you looked up at him. 

“Noah, there’s something I…” 

Noah’s stomach let out an unmistakable growl. 

“...Was that?” 

“Yeah. I'm starving." 

“You just had half a cookie.” 

“I should've gotten two.”

You threw your head back, laughing. If there was something Noah could do it was definitely eat. It seemed like he was always hungry. But to be fair, he was a very large man. 

“We’ll have dinner in a few hours, yeah?” 

“Oh yeah!” Noah started, “I forgot to tell you! We were planning on a big band and crew dinner tonight. But since you’re here I could-” 

“No, no. That sounds great actually. I’ve missed the guys too.”

“More than me?” 

"Definitely," you grinned. That earned you a light shove in the shoulders. 

“Is there like a mall or something nearby? I didn’t bring big dinner-clothes.” 

Now it was Noah's turn to roll his eyes. “Baby, you’d look amazing in a garbage bag.” 

Two hours later you found yourself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, smoothing your hands over your new dress for what had to be the seventh time. You knew that this night was the night you had to tell him. You wanted it to be perfect. 

The door opened behind you. 

”Ready?”

You turned around.

Noah had already changed into a black button-up, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His hair was still slightly messy from the afternoon nap he’d taken as you’d gotten ready.

He looked you up and down.

”Wow…” he said, closing the distance between you. 

Noah’s hand brushed against your side and came to a halt on your hip, the other settled in the small of your back. He pulled you into him, looking down at you with a certain glint in his eyes. 

”We’re gonna be late,” he stated. 

”No we’re not,” you replied. He looked slightly disappointed. 

The restaurant buzzed with the familiar hum of conversations and clinking cutlery. Warm pendant lights hung low from the ceiling, casting a soft amber glow over dark wooden tables. The smell of grilled food, garlic and fresh bread filled the air as waiters weaved effortlessly between the crowded tables.

A long table had been pushed together near the back of the restaurant.The rest of the band and a few crew members were already there. Jolly spotted you first. 

”Y/N!!!” he called, standing up from his seat. ”I heard you were in town!” 

He pulled you into a bone crushing hug. 

”Well,” you said trying to catch your breath, ”I just missed you too much Jolly.”

”Ahh, very understandable. Who wouldn't?"

You felt a hand on your shoulder. Bryan gave you a squeeze. ”I’m so happy you’re here,” he said. ”This one,” he pointed at Noah, ”has been a mess since last week.” 

”Oh shut up,” Noah groaned. 

You sat down between Jolly and Noah. Nick was on the opposite side of the table, observing you. He could see the way you stiffened when a waiter came to take everyone’s orders. Noah leaned into you, asking if you wanted a glass of wine. You declined, blaming a headache. Noah just nodded and ordered you a soda without paying it too much attention, but not without adding that you should drink some water too. Nick however noticed the way your eyes darted from Noah, to the candle on the table, to the untouched glass of water in front of you.

After the food was ordered the conversation bounced effortlessly around the table.

Jolly was in the middle of telling some ridiculous story about getting lost backstage in Germany on the last European tour.

“…I’m telling you, it wasn’t our stage.”

“It literally had our backdrop on it,” Folio deadpanned.

“No, that was afterwards.”

“It was before.”

“It was… somewhere in the middle.”

Laughter erupted around the table.

You barely managed to follow the conversation before it had already moved on to something else.

”So…” you said, taking a sip of your soda. ”I’ve heard that my boyfriend has earned a new nickname.” 

”Oh he’s been awful!” Jolly exclaimed. 

”New levels of shit housery, even for him,” added Davis. 

”Hey!” Noah cut in. 

”At lunch today he stole half my sandwich,” said Nick.

“The day before that, my fries,” Folio chimed in.

“This morning he took a bite of my bagel while maintaining eye contact,” Nick added. 

Noah shrugged. 

”You make it sound like I’m the problem.” 

Nick raised an eyebrow. ”You ARE the problem, man.” 

Noah shook his head, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

As if on cue, a waiter appeared with a tray full of steaming plates, setting them down one by one in front of everyone.

Noah shot Nick's fries a look. 

”…Don’t.”

”Wasn’t gonna.” 

Nick gave Noah an unimpressed look, moving his plate closer to himself. 

You couldn’t help but giggle. 

”Does he actually do this a lot?” 

”YES!” Everyone answered as one. 

Noah turned towards you, gave an exaggerated shrug and grinned at you like a little kid who’d just gotten away with something.

As dinner went on, the conversations around the table naturally splintered into smaller ones. Jolly was still defending his German mishap, while Bryan and a few other crew members debated the best burger they’ve had on tour. 

Beside you, Noah had absentmindedly rested his hand on your thigh. Every now and then he traced small circles with his thumb through the fabric of your dress, as if to remind himself that you were really there. 

Across the table, Nick watched this friend for a moment. Noah looked relaxed, happy. Noah was deep in conversation with the others, laughing at something Folio had said. Yet somehow, he never stopped facing you. His body remained angled towards yours. He looked completely at ease. Not like someone that had just been told something that would change the rest of his life. Nick focused his attention on you. You were smiling too, but the smile didn't quite reach your eyes. He also noticed that you were mostly moving food around your plate. 

Nick caught your eye, tilting his head slightly and raising an eyebrow. Well? You looked down at your plate, giving him the smallest shake of your head. He closed his eyes for a brief second before exhaling quietly through his nose.

When dinner had drawn to a close, Noah told you that he just needed to use the bathroom. Nick seized the opportunity, putting his arm around your shoulders. 

”Walk with me for a second, darling.” 

He guided you out of the restaurant, stopping a few feet from the entrance. For a moment, the two of you just stood there. He searched your face, you looked at everything but at him. 

”You didn’t tell him.” 

You shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek. 

”…What happened?”

Closing your eyes for a second, you exhaled deeply. 

”I just… I couldn’t do it.” You scuffed the toe of your shoe against the pavement. ”I tried. But every time I was about to tell him, something happened. Something interrupted.”

Nick placed both hands on your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. 

”You’re looking for the perfect moment, Y/N.” 

You nodded.

”There isn’t one.” 

There was a moment of silence before Nick spoke again. 

”You’re not protecting him. You’re protecting yourself.” 

You lifted your gaze to hesitantly meet his. His expression was gentle, but there was an unmistakable determination behind it. He wasn’t judging you. He was trying to help you. You knew he was right.

”And I get it. I’d be terrified too.” Another squeeze around your shoulders. ”But he deserves to know.” 

You tilted your head back, blinking rapidly in an attempt to keep your tears from falling. 

”Look at him,” Nick continued. 

You glanced through the window. Noah had just returned from the restroom and was joking around with the others, Ricky caught in a loose headlock while everyone laughed. Somehow, even in the middle of it all, his gaze instinctively wandered until it found you. The second he found you, his grin widened. 

”He’ll be okay.” 

”How do you know?” 

You looked through the window once more, Noah caught your eye again. He tilted his head slightly, silently asking if everything was okay. You forced a smile. 

”Because it’s him. It’s Noah.”

You moved your head in the slightest nod. Nick once again put his arm around your shoulders. 

”Come on, mom. Let’s go.” 

”I’ve told you to stop calling me that!”

The hotel room felt unusually quiet after the evening at the restaurant. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. The sound felt intrusive, unwelcome. 

”I can’t believe Nick is still mad about the sandwiches,” Noah said, toothbrush in one hand. 

”I mean,” he continued, ”we’re supposed to be brothers!” 

Silence. 

”Y/N? Angel?” 

”Hm?” you busied yourself with paying even more attention to the makeup remover in your hand. 

”You okay?”

”Yeah.” You weren’t. 

He leaned against the sink, arms crossed over his chest. 

”You’re doing that thing.”

”What thing?” 

”Where you say you’re okay even though you’re obviously not.” 

”Oh.” You rubbed your eyes more intensely with the wipe. ”I’m just tired honey. Promise.” 

He looked at you for a moment. 

”Alright,” he said. ”I just… you know you can talk to me, right?” 

”Mhm.” 

Noah studied you for another moment before giving in with a quiet nod, not pushing any further.

No matter how tightly you closed your eyes, sleep refused to come. You needed to tell him. You cursed yourself for not getting to it. For having climbed into bed and curled up next to him without telling him.

”Alright,” came Noah’s voice beside you. 

He sat up, reaching for the light on his bedstand. You heard a quiet click before the room illuminated with an amber glow. 

”I give up,” he said. ”I can practically hear your brain frying. Whatever’s going on in there must be very loud.” 

Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his. For a heartbeat, you simply looked at him. Really looked at him.

His brows knit together ever so slightly. There was something in your expression he’d never seen before. You looked frozen. His stomach tightened. You looked terrified. Not anxious, not upset. Terrified.

Like a deer caught in headlights.

“Angel…?”

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your eyes filled so quickly with tears that it almost startled him.

Then, all at once, you broke.

A sob tore through your chest as you threw yourself into his arms so hard it knocked the breath out of his lungs. He closed his arms around you, pulling you into his lap. 

Your whole body trembled with violent sobs. You cried like he’d never seen you cry before. Noah felt so helpless. All he knew to do was hold you closer, rubbing your back and rocking you gently back and forth. He didn’t shush you, didn’t ask any questions. He just held you, continuously swaying and pressing kisses to your hair. 

After a while, your sobs gradually became quieter, giving way to shaky breathing and the occasional hiccup. Your body stopped shaking so violently. And still, Noah just held you. 

”Angel…” 

”Look at me.” 

You shook your head. His hold of you loosened, his arms snaking between you. He cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to glance up at him. He searched your face, his own stricken by the sight of you. You’d never seen him look so helpless. Not because you were crying, but because he couldn’t reach you. Because whatever was hurting you, you were carrying it alone. Because you would not let him in. 

“It’s me,” he whispered.

Those two words, paired with the look in his eyes, broke through something inside you. You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes for just a second. When you opened them again, you met his gaze.

For the first time all evening, you didn’t look away.

”Noah… I’m pregnant.”

---

Tags:

“Y/N. That’s five weeks away.” 

“Yeah… I know.” 

“That doesn’t work. You know it doesn’t. Not for you, not for me, not for him.”

“I know.” 

“Can you take time off from work? Come to an earlier date?” 

You stared at the floor.

“I... I don't think so.”

“Think.”

You frowned.

“I could call in sick from work?”

A quiet huff of amusement escaped him.

“Okay. Yeah. If that's genuinely what you have to do, then that's what you have to do.”

You still had the positive test in your hand, absentmindedly tapping it against your knee. You weren't even sure why you hadn't put it down yet. Maybe because the second you did, it would all become real.

“What’s that tapping sound?”

You looked down to your hand, you hadn’t even realised that you were tapping it. 

“Oh.” You let out a small breath. “It’s the test. I’m still holding it.” 

“And you’re using it as a drumstick?” 

“Apparently.” 

“...Correct me if I'm wrong, but does that not have your pee like, all over it?” 

You let out a small, incredulous laugh.

“Oh my god Nick! There's a cap on it.” 

You heard a faint knock on the other side of the line. Someone was knocking on the other side of the supply closet door. A second later you could hear Noah's voice. 

“What the fuck are you doing sitting on the floor in here? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Soundcheck is about to start.” 

You could almost hear Nick stiffening through the phone. 

“Sorry man,” he said, sounding effortlessly casual. “Just talking to my mom.” 

“Oh! Tell her hi from me.” 

You didn’t even dare to breathe in case Noah would somehow hear you breathing and realise that Nick's mom breathes differently. 

“Okay mom, I have to go. Noah says hello. I’ll text you after the soundcheck.” 

The text came one and a half hours later. 

Nick R: Okay mooom. I’ve looked at the tour schedule. I think Chicago would be best. 

You: Don’t call me that. You’re literally older than me. 

Nick R: But you are a mom… :) 

Nick R: Or, you will be soon. 

That hit harder than you'd expected. You would be soon. A mom. The word settled somewhere deep inside your chest. You were going to be somebody's mom. And Noah… Noah was going to be somebody's dad. Neither of those things felt real. Your phone buzzed again.

Nick R: Anyway, Chicago? 1,5 weeks away? 

You: Could work, why Chicago? 

Nick R: We have two days off. If you can get here, he’ll actually have time to process everything. 

You: Yeah, okay. I’ll book a flight. 

Nick R: Good. 

Nick R: Scared? 

You: Shitless. 

Nick R: It’ll be fine. Don't chicken out. 

You huffed loudly. Don’t chicken out. Like you actually had a choice. You were absolutely terrified, but you knew that you had to do this. With every passing second you could also feel an instinct settle somewhere inside of you. You wanted this. You wanted a family with Noah. The two of you were of course a little family in your own way already, but a baby? A mini Noah? A little best friend to always take with you? A real piece of Noah with you when he was away on tour? You found yourself hoping that the child would inherit all your favorite things about him; his kind nature, his softness, his dedication. It wouldn't hurt if the child inherited his warm eyes either. 

Just as this realization hit you, a pit in your stomach began to form. You wanted this. But did he want this? You shook your head slightly. You didn’t know, and you wouldn’t know until you told him. The ticket to Chicago was booked five minutes later. Only 1,5 weeks. Ten days. You could get through that, right? 

Loving Noah had never required lying before. The lies themselves were not the difficult part. Blaming work or not feeling well was easy enough. Looking Noah in the eyes every time he FaceTimed you was not. 

The first few days weren't too bad.

The nausea was easy enough to blame on a stomach bug, and Noah accepted the excuse without much suspicion. He even reminded you to drink water and get some sleep before blowing you a kiss through the screen.

By day four, he started asking if work had really been that stressful. 

By day seven, he asked if you'd done something to your hair.

"No?"

"You look different."

Your stomach dropped.

He wasn't looking at your hair.

He was looking at you.

“I’m just exhausted, Noah,” you said, trying to look convincing. 

“You keep drifting off.”

He was lying in his bunk on the tour bus. His hair looked a little tousled. Faint purple shadows had started to bloom beneath his eyes. He squinted at you through the screen. 

“Have I done something to upset you? I know I haven't called or texted as much as I should have.” He ran a hand down his face. “It’s just been so busy.” 

Your stomach dropped. You hated the fact that he thought he had done something. Hated that you had made him feel like he wasn’t enough. Because he was, he always was. He had texted you multiple times every day since he left for tour. There had only been one day where he hadn’t been able to call you - and he had apologised profusely. 

”Noah… I’m not mad at you,” you said gently. “There’s nothing you have done.” Except maybe put a baby in you.

He studied you for another few seconds.

"Okay," he said eventually.

But he didn't sound convinced.

That was made very apparent the next day when a bouquet of flowers showed up at your doorstep. The card only consisted of three words. I love you.

You almost picked up your phone to call him right then and there. But Noah deserved more, he deserved to be told face to face. You decided that you needed to put even more effort into your little charade. The fact that he was walking around believing you were mad at him made a lump form in your throat. Noah was in the middle of the biggest tour Bad Omens had ever done, thinking you were upset with him.

You snapped a picture of the flowers and sent it to him. 

You: They’re gorgeous. You shouldn't have. 

Noah: Yes I should’ve. 

Noah: You’re at home? 

You had felt so nauseous that morning that you decided not to go into work that day. You had told your boss that you had a migraine and needed to work from home. 

You: Yeah. I wasn't feeling too good this morning. 

You: Better now though, don’t worry! 

Of course, he FaceTimed you immediately. You quickly brushed through your hair with your fingers and rearranged your face to a happier expression than the one you had been wearing the last couple of days, forcing the smile he'd grown so used to seeing.

The screen lit up with Noah's face. His black hoodie was pulled over his head, hair escaping around his forehead in every direction. He looked tired. The kind of tiredness that settled beneath his eyes after weeks on the road. But he still smiled the second he saw you, and somehow that smile alone made the distance between you feel a little smaller.

“Hi,” you said softly. 

“There she is.” 

And then, “Hold up. Look at this.” 

Noah turned the camera around. He was standing on stage. The arena spanned out in front of him. Rows and rows of empty chairs. The floor looked like it was never-ending. Simply put; it was huge. 

You audibly gasped. 

“Noah! Honey, that's… It’s huge!” 

He flipped the camera back around, a wide grin on his face. 

“I know baby, and it’s sold out.” He shook his head like he couldn't believe it. “Can you believe we get to do this?” 

His words hit you like a punch in the gut. What if your secret meant that he wouldn’t get to do this again? You ignored the sting behind your eyes and quickly arranged your features to a grin big enough to match his when you felt your smile starting to falter. 

“I remember when you played in front of like… two hundred people.”

He threw his head back in laughter. “Do you remember that one show where half the audience decided to just leave halfway through?" 

“How could I forget?” 

“I must admit that was quite the punch to my ego.” 

“Maybe you needed it.” 

“Hey!” he interjected. 

You tilted your head a little bit. “I’m so proud of you.” 

His face softened. “Imagine this place full…” 

“Full of people there to see you guys.” 

He smiled. 

“You seem more like yourself today,” he stated. 

You looked at the flowers on the table in front of you, absentmindedly turning the vase a few centimetres before straightening one of the stems that had slipped out of place. Bright, colourful and completely undeserved. You had never wanted to tell him the truth more than you did in that moment.

“Yeah. I’m feeling a bit better.” 

“Good.” 

“Have you eaten today?” he added. 

“Of course!” 

He didn’t look too convinced. 

“A real meal?” 

“...Yeah.” 

“Liar.” 

“Okay. I’ve had a bag of chips,” you admitted. 

“You’re hopeless.” 

“Have you had any water today?” 

Now it was his turn to look a little guilty. 

“Yes…?” 

“Yes?” 

“I mean, the main component of coffee is water. Right? So like…” 

“Coffee is not water, Noah.” 

“It totally is!” 

“Noah.” 

“Fight me.” 

You sighed. “I wish I could.” 

“You can fight me soon. As soon as we’re back in LA.” 

You smiled, your gaze drifting to the half-packed bag by the bedroom door.

Two days.

“You bet.” 

Suddenly it was the night before your flight. You were finishing your packing. A shirt, your toiletries, phone charger, pregnancy test. You took the test out again, staring at it. Then you put it back, and subsequently took it out again. You put it back and looked at it for a while before finally deciding not to take it with you.

The alarm went off at 4:45 AM. You had already been awake for forty minutes. You stretched and sat up. You couldn’t tell if the nausea you were feeling was from morning sickness or nervousness. 

At 5 AM your phone buzzed. 

Nick R: Hi mom. 

Nick R: Today is the day. Don’t chicken out. 

You: Why in the everloving fuck are texting me at five in the morning?

Nick R: Because it's seven. 

You: Right… Time zones. 

Nick R: Did you sleep? 

You: Of course not. 

Nick R: Figured. Don’t skip breakfast. 

Nick R: I’m serious. 

Two hours later you had called in sick from work and were waiting at the gate for boarding. You’ve always been a bit of a nervous flyer. Not during the whole flight though, but taking off and landing had always freaked you out. Whenever you flew together, Noah would simply hold out his hand before the plane even left the ground, allowing you to squeeze it as hard as you could. He wouldn’t even complain about the little crescent moon shaped marks you’d always leave on the top of his hand. You looked down at your boarding pass, double and triple checking that you were at the right gate. You were. Looking down at your watch you wondered if you had time to go grab a coffee. You decided that you did. Halfway to the nearest Starbucks a thought crossed your mind. Could you even have coffee? A quick google search of pregnancy and caffeine made you decide to just get a small one. 

A young family walked past you. The mother was cooing at her baby as the father pushed the pram. Would that be you in a year? The thought made you smile. 

As you sat down on the uncomfortable plastic chair at the gate your mind started to work against you. What if Noah wasn’t at the hotel? What if you’d gotten the hotel wrong? What if the flight got delayed? 

“Flight UA 1542 to Chicago now boarding at gate B27,” rang out through the loudspeakers. 

You stood up, hoisting your bag over your shoulder. Instinctively you put a hand on your non-existent bump, almost wanting to protect what was growing in there as you boarded the plane. 

After making yourself comfortable you went to put your phone on flight mode. You hadn’t noticed your phone buzzing. 

Noah: Good morning baby. 

Noah: I hope work isn’t too crazy today. 

You answered with a quick “Good morning. Lots of meetings today, not gonna be able to answer for a few hours. <3” before turning on flight mode and securing your seatbelt. There was no turning back now. 

As the plane began to taxi, your hand instinctively reached toward the empty seat beside you before you caught yourself. Noah wasn’t there to get you through takeoff. Your hand fell limply into your own lap. As the plane's speed began to build you clenched both of your fists as hard as you could. Only when the plane had reached cruising altitude did you unclench them. The tiny, red crescent moons in your palm actually kind of hurt. You made a mental note to not use your nails next time you flew together with Noah. 

The pilot's voice crackled through the speakers as the plane touched down at O'Hare. You barely noticed the skyline in the distance as the plane slowed down. Chicago could've been the most beautiful city in the world and you wouldn't know. Right now, it was just the city where Noah happened to be.

You made your way towards the exit and swiftly made your way towards the nearest taxi. Sliding into the backseat you gave the driver the address Nick had provided you with. The driver met your gaze through the rearview mirror. 

“Have you ever been to Chicago before?”

“No, I haven’t.”

He smiled. 

"Business or vacation?” 

What were you supposed to say to that? “I’m here to tell my boyfriend that he’s going to be a dad”? You just smiled. 

“Visiting someone.” 

The city drifted past outside the window. Glass skyscrapers, old brick buildings, people carrying coffee, cyclists weaving through traffic. You couldn't have described a single thing you’d seen five minutes later. 

“Chigaco is a good city,” the driver smiled. “I think you’ll like it.” 

“I’m sure I will.” 

You sneaked a peak at the driver's GPS. You were only ten minutes away. Ten minutes away from the hotel, from Noah. A nervous flutter swept through your stomach.

You: I’ll be there in 10. 

He replied instantly. 

Nick R: I’ll meet you outside. 

The thought of Nick's warm embrace calmed you down slightly. After all, he was the only other person in the world that knew. He was the only one that knew how your whole world had turned upside down the last ten days. And Nick was also the thing that had kept you sane. 

You spotted Nick outside the hotel, casually leaning against one of the canopy pillars by the entrance. The closer you got to him, the louder your heartbeat became. By the time you had exited the taxi and he pulled you into a hug, your stomach felt like it had dropped several floors.

Nick pulled you into a hug without saying a word. He held you tightly, one hand resting between your shoulder blades as though trying to hold you together. When he finally stepped back, he didn't let go completely. His hands remained on your shoulders, searching your face for a long moment.

“You look terrified,” he stated. 

“I am terrified.” 

“You’ve got this, mom.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Please stop calling me that.” 

Nick pressed his room key to the little pad next to the elevator buttons, then he pressed the 14th floor. The elevator jangled a little as it started to move, every floor bringing you closer to Noah. Closer to finally telling him. 

He noticed how your grip on your bag tightened and how you took a deep breath. Your nerves were written all over your face, your worry unmistakable. 

“He’s in a good mood today, you know,” he stated. 

You glanced at him. “How do you know?” 

“He stole half my sandwich during lunch.” 

You snorted. “That’s how you gauge his mood?” 

“You know how happy stealing other people's food makes him.” 

You returned your focus to the little display over the doors. Ninth floor. You nodded in acknowledgement. For some reason, Noah always seemed to think other people's food tasted better. Even when you ordered the exact same thing. 

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. Nick stepped out. You didn’t. The doors began to slide shut again before Nick reached out and caught them with one hand.

“Hey.”

He reached for you, grabbing your wrist lightly. You looked down at his fingers, on the light grip around your arm. Then you looked up at him. Concern softened his features. Something in the way he looked at you made your feet move before your brain had a chance to object.You stepped out of the elevator.

“I’m scared.” 

“I know.” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Come on.” 

Nick kept his grip around your wrist as he pulled you down the hotel corridor. You moved your feet without thinking about it. The further down the corridor you walked, the more light headed you felt. The ringing in your ears got louder and louder with every step. You felt like you could be sick. Or faint. Or maybe both. 

Nick stopped in front of a door. 1418. 

“This is him,” he stated. 

You swayed a bit on the spot. Nick turned to you and pulled you into a hug. One of his hands splayed over your shoulder blades, the other cradled the back of your head. 

“You’ll be fine. It’ll be fine,” he whispered in your hair. 

You closed your eyes and nodded. 

“I’m just next door. If you need me, I’m only ten steps away.” 

He let you go, took a step over and opened the door to his own room. 

And just like that, you were alone. You looked at the door, and you swore you could hear Noah humming in there. You raised your hand to knock, but then lowered it. 

Your mind was pulling you in two different directions. One part of you wanted to sprint down the corridor, throw yourself in the elevator and take the first taxi available back to the airport. The other part of you wanted nothing else than to knock on the door and throw yourself in Noah's embrace, to feel his strong arms around you and to breathe his scent in. 

You leaned forwards, both hands resting on your knees. You remembered that someone once told you to “breathe in a square” to calm your heart rate down. In through your nose, hold it, out through your mouth, hold it and repeat. So you did. A minute passed. Then two. When you felt like your heart was beating in a more normal rate you straightened up, put your hand up and knocked twice. 

For a second, nothing happened. Then came the faint sound of movement from the other side of the door. You watched the handle slowly turn and the door swung open. And there he was. 

Noah stood there in a faded black hoodie and grey sweatpants, one hand still resting on the handle. His hair looked like he'd only just run a hand through it, dark strands falling carelessly across his forehead.

For a heartbeat, he simply looked at you.

His expression shifted so quickly you almost missed it. Confusion. Recognition. Then a smile spread across his face, slow at first before it grew into something so bright it almost made your chest ache.

“...Baby?”

---

Tags:

You closed your eyes, pressing your palms to your forehead. Leaning forward a bit you took a deep breath and focused on breathing for a while. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Your mind was racing and you needed to regain your composure. But those two, faint, pink lines against the granite countertop of the bathroom sink shot to the forefront of your thoughts with ease. You had tried to reason with yourself; you used protection, your period had been late before and the test you had peed on an hour before was over two years old. These things expired, right? You had made Noah buy it for you when you missed your period back then. He had been even more nervous than you, but had refused to elaborate until you knew for sure. When you had told him that it was negative he had exhaled and pulled you into him, holding you without saying a word. He had kissed your forehead, your nose, the corner of your mouth. You kept the second test in the packet, pushing it to the back of the medicine cupboard. You had not really talked about the topic since. 

A small gust of wind from the automatic doors of the store pulled you back to reality. You couldn’t just stand here forever. You shook your head slightly and reached for three different ones, more than one couldn't hurt, right? Like, what if one brand was better than the other? What if two tests somehow malfunctioned? Your eyes swept around the store before hastily making your way over to the cashier. She was an older lady, probably just years from retirement. With your brain in a state of chaos, the only thing you noticed about her appearance was her kind, green eyes. She smiled at you as she handed over the reciept. 

“Have a nice day, dear.” 

You nodded automatically. You couldn't remember if you thanked her. 

The drive home was a blur. You stopped at a red light before realising it had turned green. You couldn’t remember the last four streets you had driven down. You couldn't remember if you had actually stopped at the stop sign or if you had slowed down enough through the school zone. At one point you had seriously considered whether you should pull over or not. You didn’t though. You kept driving, gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles whitened. 

The small paper bag sat on the passenger seat next to you. It almost felt like it was threatening you. You refused to look at it. 

Back home you placed the bag on the bathroom counter. You looked at it. You exited the bathroom, just standing in the corridor outside. Walking back into the bathroom, you looked at the bag again. 

You huffed. “You’re being unreasonable,” you told your reflection in the mirror, “It’s just a test.” Technically, it was three. 

Three tests that could change everything. What if you just… didn’t take them? Then nothing changes. You’d not be pregnant, Noah would still be on tour and blissfully unaware of the beads of sweat forming on your forehead. 

Your phone buzzed. Of course he had chosen this very moment to text you. 

Noah: I miss you. Big arena tonight. 

Your stomach twisted. You couldn't bear to answer him with more than two red hearts. You decided that you should take a moment to collect yourself before taking a single test. Why had you bought three of them? One would surely suffice, right? But at the same time, more than one couldn’t hurt. 

As it transpired half an hour later, it definitely couldn't. There were now four positive tests on the countertop in front of you. Three pairs of pink lines stared back at you, and of course the most definite of them all; the digital test. You had read the words over and over again without really understanding them. Pregnant. 3+. 

“Holy shit,” you mumbled as you sank down on the closed lid of the toilet, test in your hand. You were pregnant. Three or more weeks pregnant. You looked around you, as if wanting him there would make Noah appear from thin air. 

You closed your eyes, resting your head in your hands. A choked sob broke from you. You needed him. You needed him to tell you it was going to be okay. You needed Noah to tell you that whatever you wanted to do, you’d figure it out together. But Noah wasn’t there. He was on the other side of the country, probably doing a sound check. He had no idea that your world had just shifted. 

Pulling your phone out from your pocket you looked at today's date. It was five whole weeks until you were supposed to see him in real life again. You couldn’t wait that long. You couldn’t keep this secret from him for that long. And nevertheless he would sense that something was wrong the second you called. That was one of your favourite things about your boyfriend - Noah could always read you, he could always tell when something was bothering you. You sometimes joked about him being a human mood ring. Noah also always knew what you needed. He gave advice when you needed it, comforted you when you needed it and made you laugh even when you felt like the world was crashing in over you if that was what you needed. 

You looked back at the tests on the granite countertops again. There were no words for the feeling you were feeling. Confused? Scared out of your mind? Absolutely. But those feelings were also accompanied by a warmer feeling. A fleeting image of a small hand wrapping around one of Noah's long, tattooed fingers popped into your head. He’d be a good dad, you were sure of it. But still… A baby. 

A baby. 

The word settled somewhere deep in your chest, equal parts terrifying and impossible. But also wonderful. 

You had always imagined children somewhere down the line. And you had always known that if you were ever going to have them; Noah was the only one imaginable to father them. But that was supposed to be in the future. After the tours became less frequent and shorter. After the constant flights, after the never ending facetime calls late at night. After your shared life revolved around departures and countdowns until you were reunited. 

Not now. 

There was also the fact that you and Noah had never really talked about it, not properly at least. There had been passing comments whenever you had seen a particularly cute family at the grocery store, or when he had spotted a toddler with oversized ear protection dancing at one of his shows. But there had never been a real conversation. No “do you want children?”, no “when?”.

What if he didn’t want them? What if his answer was “maybe in the future, but not now”? What then? What if he thought it would ruin the band? 

Because if there was one thing you knew for sure it was that Bad Omens wasn’t a job to Noah. It was everything. Every sacrifice he had to make for the band to take off, every sleepless night, every year he had spent chasing something that had finally become real. Sold out arenas, tours booked several months in advance, headlining festivals, thousands of people screaming his lyrics back at him every night. 

And now… This. You. 

Somewhere deep inside you knew that this wasn’t where your mind should be running off to - you should be thinking about the tiny life that was growing inside of you. A mix of you and him. 

But all you could think about were tour schedules, headline shows, flights. Cancelled tours. Cancelled shows. Noah’s passion, his drive, his work ethic. All he had done to be in the position to where you were in now, a nice house and stability the two of you could only have dreamt about when you met seven years ago. The thought made you feel sick. 

Without realising it you had opened your phone, went to your "favourite contacts” list and pressed his number. Pressing your phone to your ear, you hid your face in your hand as if to hide even over a regular phone call. 

He picked up after the first dial tone. 

“Hello my darling!” 

“Where are you?” 

“Backstage, why?” 

“Alone?” 

“No, not at the moment. I’m with Foli-” 

“Can you be?” 

“...Yeah. Why?” 

“Please.” 

“Okay. Sure. Give me a sec.” 

You could hear a chair scraping the floor as he stood up followed by the soft sounds of his footsteps. And then you could hear a door close. 

“Okay. I’m literally standing in a supply closet next to two mops.” You heard something rattle on the other end of the line. “I’m pretty sure I just knocked over a bucket. Now…What’s happened? You’re kind of freaking me out.” 

You pressed your hand to your mouth, but a broken sob still escaped you. 

“Y/N, darling, talk to me.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“What are you apologising for? Why are you crying?” 

There was a pause.

“Did someone get hurt? Did something break?” 

“No.” 

“Are you hurt?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“...You don’t know?”

There was another pause in which you sniffled loudly. You realised you had been twisting your shirt around your fingers so much that it hurt.

“No.” 

“Tell me what’s going on, please. Talk to me.” 

“I took a pregnancy test. Or… more than one. Four.” 

“...And?” 

"They're all… positive. Like all of them.” 

Another pause. 

“Okay…Wow.” 

“Okay?!” 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s all you’ve got?” 

“I’m trying to think before I speak.” 

“Promise you won’t tell him.” 

Silence. 

“You haven’t told him?” 

“I haven’t told anyone.” 

“Wow… okay. I - I don’t know what…” 

“Nicholas. Promise me.” 

“I promise.” His voice had become softer. That soft spoken, kind voice that you had relied on so many times before. You knew that you could trust him. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. 

“Nick I… I didn’t mean to. I don’t know what to do.” 

You could hear rustling on his side of the phone. 

“Nick?” 

“I’m here. I just sat down on the floor.” 

And for a second, you could feel a small smile creep onto your lips. The thought of your friend sitting on the floor in a supply closet whilst being the only other person that knew suddenly felt surreal. 

“We never talked about it. About… this. What if he doesn’t want them? What if I’ve just ruined everything?” You traced the sides of the test with your thumb. “And what about the band? I -” 

He cut you off. “What about the band?” 

“What if this is the end of it?” 

“Are you happy?” 

“What?” 

“Are. You. Happy?” 

You didn’t know what to say. You lifted your gaze to try to focus on anything at all. It landed on the toothbrush cup. Yours looked so alone. In your mind's eye you could see it alongside Noah’s and a teeny, tiny one. 

“I think I am, yeah.” Saying it out loud felt like it cemented something in you, and it absolutely terrified you. “But the band is -” 

“Can I tell you what I think?” 

You couldn’t find the words, so Nick took your silence as permission to continue.

“I think you’re trying to solve six months worth of problems in six minutes.” There was another rustling on the other side of the line. “Right now there are only two things that we know are true. You’re pregnant. And Noah doesn’t know.” 

“Right…” 

“Everything else you’re fixated on now is just your brain trying to outrun the future.” 

“But I-” 

“No.” 

“But the timing-” 

“It’s very normal to have children in your late twenties to early thirties you know. Especially when you’ve been together for as long as you have.” 

You sigh. 

“Yeah… In the normal world maybe. But in the band world it feels so early. Like a teenage pregnancy.” 

“Stop.” 

“It does though Nick!” 

“A lot of band dudes have kids, you know.” 

No good answer came to mind. He was right, of course. But it just felt different when the band dude in question was your boyfriend. 

“And if I can say something else…” It wasn't a question. “If Noah had to choose between a sold out arena and you; he’d hate that you think there even is a choice to make. I’ve watched that man cancel interviews because you had a bad day. I’ve watched him leave tour parties early because he wanted to call you. I’ve watched him stare at his phone waiting for you to wake up. Trust me; you’re not competing with the band.” 

You didn’t know what to say. You hated that he was making sense.

“So… as far as I’m concerned there's only one thing left for us to do...” 

“...I need to talk to Noah.” You finished the sentence for him. 

“Yeah. As soon as possible.” There was a sudden hard clunk. 

“What was that?” 

“I might’ve knocked another bucket over.” 

Despite yourself, you couldn't help letting out a laugh between your sniffles. For the first time since taking the first test, you felt that things might work themselves out. 

“There she is,” Nick said quietly. 

“What?” 

“I’ve been waiting to hear that.” 

“Stop.” 

“Well… I’ll tell you something… I definitely wasn’t expecting that today.” 

“Neither did I, to be fair.” 

He laughed. “I’m gonna be honest with you… I think I just cried a little. I cried a little sitting next to two mops.” 

Maybe, just maybe… Everything wasn’t falling apart after all.

---

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Noah stood in the shower with one hand braced against the black tile wall, his head bowed as hot water ran down the back of his neck. Steam filled the bathroom like fog, blurring the full body mirror opposite the glass. 

Good. He didn’t particularly want to look at himself right now. Not after eight hours on a red-eye flight from London while his body ran on nothing but a cheap protein bar and two coffees. He hadn’t slept, he couldn’t sleep, and his body couldn’t even tell what time it was anymore. 

He tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as the water ran through his hair before spiralling down the drain, carrying away the smell of airplane and weeks spent living out of a suitcase. His muscles ached from sleeping in cramped bunks on the tour buses, hauling heavy luggage through terminals and sitting in vans and planes for hours on end. 

He straightened up and rolled one shoulder, letting out a groan when it cracked loudly. 

So fucking old. He thought to himself. Though thirty wasn’t old, not in the slightest, it just felt that way after six weeks on the road, travelling through Europe. 

He landed just less than an hour ago, and he dropped his bags by the front door and immediately headed into the bathroom. He’d deal with unpacking later, he’d deal with missed calls and emails and whatever else was waiting for him later. 

After shutting off the shower, he finally noticed just how quiet his apartment (penthouse, he’s just humble) was. He stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water disappearing into the expensive rug beneath his feet as he made his way into the kitchen. The place looked exactly how he’d left it, spotless, almost too clean- despite him telling his cleaner not to bother coming while he was on tour, but still paid her anyway. 

He stopped beside the kitchen island, and opened the fridge. Inside, he found a couple bottled waters, half a lemon and expired oat milk. He stared at it for a moment before shutting the door again. 

Food could wait. Everything could wait. 

He shook his head, and was about to make his way to the bedroom when his phone buzzed on the counter. 

Davis: Land safe?

He unlocked his phone and typed with tired fingers. 

Noah: Yeah. Got back an hour ago. 

Davis: Good. Get some rest dude, you deserve it 

He huffed a humourless laugh and tossed his phone back onto the counter. 

If only it worked like that. 

He knew he needed sleep, he was exhausted, every muscle in his body was screaming for rest, his eyelids burned and his head felt heavy… but he knew himself too well. If he climbed into bed right now, he’d stare up at the ceiling, eventually reach for his phone and scroll through twitter, reading comments he shouldn’t read. Maybe eventually he’d move into the studio and open up his laptop, start tweaking some demos for the next album, then start panicking about the next album. Worrying whether it’s good enough, thinking about streams and people’s expectations until the pressure would send him into a spiral. 

His brain didn’t know how to stop when he was at home, or at least not on it’s own. 

So he dragged his suitcase into the bedroom, and dropped it onto the bed. He dug through it until he pulled out a pair of black jeans, a tshirt that didn’t cling to him, and a pair of boxers that he hoped were clean. He quickly got dressed and half heartedly dried his hair with his towel before reaching for his black baseball cap that had dropped onto the floor. 

He caught his reflection in the mirror as he adjusted it on his head- his bloodshot eyes and dark circles, the way tour seemed to physically age him another thirty years. 

He just stared at himself for a moment before his eye caught his suitcase in the reflection. He should stay home, he should unpack, he knew that. Any sensible person would’ve climbed into bed and slept for twelve hours… instead, Noah found himself wandering towards the front door and reaching for his car keys. 

Because there was only one thing he could think about during the entire flight home. Not his bed, not the new album, not even seeing his friends. It was you. 

He didn’t have your number, he never asked for it, it never felt right, because everything about the two of you existed within the walls of the club. There was something comforting about that, though. There were no expectations, no texts late at night, no need to wonder if he was bothering you on your day off. He just had to turn up to the club, walk through the doors and you were there. 

But sometimes you weren’t. 

And if you weren’t, he’d nurse a whiskey, chat to the bartender for a while, tip the girls who came over to say hello then head home. But he knew that wouldn’t be the case tonight, since he knew for sure that you were working. Before he left for Europe, the bartender told him that you’d picked up Thursdays now that one of the other girls had left. So before he even left for the tour, he knew exactly where he’d be on the night he came home. 

He barely remembered getting in his car, but now he was at the club, walking up the door with his head down.

“Look who finally decided to come home!” The bouncer grinned, making Noah look up and give a tired smile. 

“It’s been a long six weeks.” Noah sighed, and the bouncer nodded his head before stepping aside to let him through. 

“Good to have you back.” 

“Good to be back.” He said with a nod, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. 

But it didn’t matter anymore once he stepped inside, the smell of perfume, cologne and alcohol all mixed together as coloured lights swept across the room. Nothing had changed in the time he’d been gone, everything was still in the same place, they were still playing the same music, the same bartender was polishing glasses behind the counter. 

He let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, then his eyes found you. You were on the stage, you must’ve been halfway through your first set tonight. 

He smiled to himself when he saw what you were wearing. The most gorgeous lacey lilac two piece that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He wondered just how many outfits you had, since last time you were in emerald, and before that it was red, baby pink, silver, and he could never forget when you were in black the first time he came here.

You looked beautiful as ever tonight. Your hair was even curled, and it gently bounced as you moved beneath the lights. The crowd was eating it up- there were a group of businessmen at the front who looked hypnotised, and a couple guys he guessed were rather drunk, throwing handfuls of bills onto the stage. 

You gave a polite smile, gracious and professional as you twirled around the pole again. Oh how he had missed watching you…

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite rockstar.” Noah looked over to see one of the girls who worked here, Lila, smiling brightly and looping an arm loosely through his. “You’ve been gone forever.” 

“Six weeks.” He nodded. 

“See,” she pouted, “Forever!” 

He laughed softly, a warm smile creeping onto his lips. 

“Good to see you.” He said. 

“You too.” She said, before stepping back to take a proper look at him. “...Shit. You look exhausted.” 

“I am.” He quietly admitted. 

“You want some company?” She asked casually. And there was no pressure, because she knew the answer already. 

“I appreciate it,” Noah said with an apologetic smile, “But…”

Her eyes followed his, and they led straight to you. She laughed, though he could tell she was a little disappointed. 

“I should’ve known.” 

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder, “She’s been wondering when you’d come back. I think your booth’s empty if you’re heading over there.” 

He nodded his head. 

“Thanks.” 

Lila gave him a smile, gently squeezing his arm, before turning around to head back into the crows. But Noah just managed to call out,

“Wait!” 

She slowly turned around, and Noah was already reaching into his pocket for his wallet, then he handed her a little stack of bills. 

“Have a good night.” 

…

Noah sat in the secluded booth that had somehow become his over the past year, he had his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey that he’d been nursing for the past ten minutes while he watched you. 

You had no idea he was there, or maybe you did, he couldn’t tell. Still, he didn’t wave or try to catch your eye. He didn’t want to pull your attention away from your work. Not when this was your stage, your time, he was quite content to sit in the dark corner with his drink, letting his thoughts start to slow down.

And like usual in this place, he completely lost track of time. It was impossible not to when you would spin so effortlessly beneath the lights, when the way you moved your hips were hypnotic. He sank back into his seat, his legs spread beneath the table as his fingers tapped against his glass. 

Then before he knew it, your set was over. He watched you flash that professional smile before disappearing behind the velvet curtain at the back of the stage. He smiled to himself, then finally took another sip of his drink, which had now been watered down by the melted ice, though he didn’t mind. 

He was too busy imagining you backstage with the other girls, kicking off the towering heels for a few blessed minutes, complaining to the other girls about how your feet hurt- he’d heard that complaint from you enough times. He imagined you touching up your makeup, fixing your hair, drinking half a bottle of water in one go.

“So you finally remembered where we keep the door.” A warm and teasing voice spoke. "I thought maybe you found a better club."

He suddenly looked up, and there you were. Your lipstick had been reapplied, though it was a little smudged on the bottom, the pretty little outfit you had on had been covered up by an oversized black zip up hoodie, the hood pulled up over your head while the sleeves drowned you. And clearly you were giving your feet a break, since you were walking around in a pair of fluffy pink sliders. 

You looked human, like a regular person, not the dazzling performer he and everyone else had just watched on the stage. 

You slid into the booth, letting out a sigh as you sat down, resting your feet in his lap. But when you looked at him properly… your smiled disappeared. 

“Jesus, Noah.” You winced. 

“What?”

“You look like shit.” 

He scoffed, setting his glass back down onto the table. 

“Wow, thanks. Here I was thinking you were coming over to say welcome home.” 

You smiled, tilting your head.

“Where have you been?” You asked softly, and he rubbed his eyes. 

“Europe. Got back two hours ago.” 

“And you came straight here?”

He nodded. 

“I showered first, didn’t think you’d want me smelling like airports.” 

You let out a soft chuckle, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Well, thank you for that.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the effort.” He smirked. 

“I do.” You nudged one of his knees gently with your slipper. “You look a lot cleaner than the last time you stumbled in after a flight.”

He smiled, the corners of his tired eyes softening. God, he’d missed this, he missed someone talking to him like he was just… Noah.

You studied him for another second, then your smile faded and your voice softened. 

“How long have you actually been awake?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Noah.”

“Well, I slept for maybe…” He squinted as he thought. “Fifteen minutes on the plane?”

You frowned. Poor thing. He looked so tired and so tense, and instead of being tucked up in bed he was here. You didn’t wonder why, you knew exactly why he was here, even if he never told you. 

You leaned back into the booth, stretching one arm over the backrest before glancing towards the stage

“Y’know, I’m on my break at the moment. I’ve got about…” You checked the clock mounted above the bar. “Forty minutes until I gotta go back out there. There was a guy asking if I could give his friend a private dance.” You looked back at him, and he was nodding slowly. “And I was going to spend it backstage until I saw you.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, and thoughtfully tapped your long nails against the table. “Y'know... one of our private rooms are empty.”

His eyebrow lifted as he picked his glass back up. 

“And you look like you could use a dance.” You added.

He smiled into his whiskey.

“I probably could.”

You watched him for another second, thinking something over in your mind. 

“…Or.” You rested your chin in your palm. “I could give you a massage instead. You look pretty tense.”

He scoffed. 

“You’re telling me. I’ve spent six weeks sleeping in a tour bus.”

You frowned. 

“Must be pretty hard for a big guy like you,” you half teased, “I’m guessing the plane wasn’t much better?”

He shook his head. 

“I can tell.” You said softly, “I’ve got some massage oil in my locker.”

He looked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You do?”

“My back gets tight after dancing.” You sighed.

“Huh.” He hummed. “You offer this to everyone?”

You laughed outright.

“God, no.” You shook your head, “I’d never get any work done.”

He smiled.

“So why me?”

You met his eyes, not sure how to answer that without getting too soppy with it.

“I guess it’s just your lucky day.” You smirked, before reaching over to touch his tense shoulder, “I think I know just what you need.”

He smiled, small and tired, but grateful. 

“Thanks. That sounds good.”

You pushed yourself up from the booth, pulling your hoodie down so it covered your ass.

“Go upstairs, room three,” you instructed, “I’ll grab the oil from my locker, I’ll just be two minutes.”

He nodded, already reaching for his wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

You looked almost offended.

“Noah.”

“What?”

“I’m on my break.”

“I know, but-”

“No.” You folded your arms. “This one’s not work.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you pointed a finger at him before he could. 

“Don’t.”

A reluctant laugh escaped him.

“I wasn’t going to.”

You rolled your eyes fondly.

“The only thing you owe me… is keeping this a secret.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. 

You turned towards the staff corridor, then glanced back over your shoulder with a smile.

“And Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

…

Room three was at the end of the corridor, far enough from the main floor that the music had softened and you could just hear the bass thump through the walls.

Noah had barely been inside for thirty seconds before he heard the quiet knock, then the door opened just enough for you to step in.

“Sorry,” you smiled. “One of the girls cornered me to complain about a customer.”

He chuckled.

“It’s okay.”

You nudged the door shut with your foot before holding up a pair of heels that looked more like a torture device.

“So, I have a very important question.”

Noah tilted his head. 

“I’m listening.”

You lifted the heels slightly.

“Do you want me to look…” You made little quotation marks with your fingers. “‘Professional.’ Y’know, lingerie and heels.”

Then you liften and wiggled one foot in the fluffy pink sliders you were already wearing.

“Or… do you mind if I stay like this?”

Noah looked at the heels, then at your hoodie, then at the slippers.

“Is that even a question?”

“Your massage, your choice.” You shrugged. 

He laughed softly.

“You’re on your break, sweetheart. You’ve been working all evening, I’d rather you were comfortable.”

A smile spread slowly across your face.

“I knew I liked you.”

“You weren’t sure before?”

“I was about… seventy percent sure.”

“Only seventy?”

“Yup. Congratulations.” You tossed the heels onto the armchair in the corner dramatically. “You’ve just earned the remaining thirty.”

He laughed, the sound warm enough to make your heart squeeze. Then you walked over to the small table and set the bottle of massage oil down beside a folded towel. Then you looked back at him.

“Okay.” You clapped your hands together once. “Get your ass over here, pretty boy.”

He raised an eyebrow as he wandered over. 

“Bossing me around already?” 

“Mm, I know you love it.” You smirked, pointing down at the plush red L-shaped couch. “Sit.”

Noah huffed a laugh, but still obeyed. He lowered himself onto the corner of the couch with a groan, and in here you could see him better. The dark circles under his eyes were impossible to miss, and there was still that tightness in his shoulders, like he didn’t know how to let them relax. 

You stepped in between his knees, studying him for a second as a frown tugged at your mouth. 

“Wow, you really do look rough.” 

“Aren’t you just full of compliments tonight.” Noah scoffed, a playful smile on his lips. 

You ignored that, and instead reached for his baseball cap, and lifted it from his head, setting it on the table beside the bottle of oil. His dark hair fell messily across his forehead, flattened from drying beneath the cap. 

“That’s better.” You smiled. 

You watched as his expression suddenly changed, he almost looked a little shy, and his hand started to rise towards his hair. 

“Nope.” You stopped him, catching his wrist before he could fix it. 

“It’s a mess.” He chuckled. 

“Well, in that case,” you settled onto one of his thighs, facing him, “Can I fix it?”

His eyes met yours, and his voice softened, like he’d been caught off guard. 

“...Yeah.” 

You smiled, and slowly slid your fingers into the dark strands at the back of his head, combing through his hair. As you did so, your long nails scratched gently at his scalp- and Noah’s reaction was immediate. His eyes fell shut, and a long breath escaped him. 

“Oh…” He let out a breathy moan. 

A tiny smile spread across your face as your hands slowly moved up his head, now brushing through the top of his hair. 

“That feel good?” You asked. 

“Mm… don’t stop.” 

You laughed softly and continued, your fingers slowly and gently moving through his hair. Little by little, you felt the tension leave him, his jaw relaxed and his head tipped forward ever so slightly, leaning into your touch.without even noticing. 

Then when you were finally satisfied, you brushed one last strand back from his forehead. 

“Much better,” you smiled, then carefully got up off his lap, “Alright, take your shirt off.” 

He couldn’t help but grin as he reached for the hem. 

“Remind me which one of us works at the strip club?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, as he pulled it up over his head in one motion before dropping it onto the arm of the couch.

You opened your mouth to say something… but nothing came out. 

…Oh. Wow. 

You’d seen him come in wearing tank tops before, the occasional tight t-shirt… but nothing could’ve prepared you for this. 

He wasn’t enormous, he didn’t look intimidating. He just looked… strong and masculine. Comfortably and naturally. His big broad shoulders tapered into a slutty little waist (sorry), his arms defined from years of lifting equipment instead of chasing impossible proportions at the gym. There were tattoos across his chest and stomach, your eyes drifted over them before settling on the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.

He looked like he took care of himself.

Maybe not as obsessively as some of the other guys you’d seen in here, who make their muscles and bodies their whole personality. But you could tell he put work into his body anyway. 

“You okay?” His voice pulled you back.

You suddenly met his eyes.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

Heat crept into your cheeks.

“Yeah…” A laugh escaped you. “I wasn’t expecting…”

He looked down at himself, confused as to what you’re laughing at.

“What?”

“You look…” You searched for a word that didn’t sound ridiculous. “…really good.”

He gave an awkward little shrug.

“I’ve definitely looked better.”

You shook your head. 

“You know what’s funny?” You asked. 

“What?”

“I’m used to people staring at me. It’s literally my job.”

He nodded slowly, and you smiled to yourself. 

“It’s kind of nice that the tables have turned for once.” You added. 

A soft flush appeared across the tops of his cheeks.

“You’ve made me self-conscious now.” He said, half joking. 

“I promise I’m not judging you.” You insisted, “You’re just… wow.” 

Without thinking, your fingertips hovered near one of the letters tattooed just below his chest, then you paused.

“Can I?”

He glanced down at your hand before nodding.

“Yeah.”

Your fingertips rested lightly against his skin, tracing the edge of the ink with a featherlight touch. Then his stomach tightened involuntarily beneath your hand, and you immediately looked up.

“Sorry.”

“No.” A sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m just…”

“Ticklish?” You smirked. 

“...A little.” He said quietly. 

You smiled warmly.

“Wow, Noah Sebastian's ticklish?”

“Don’t go spreading that around.”

“I don’t know…” You tilted your head thoughtfully. “It’s kind of adorable.”

He groaned.

“I liked you better five minutes ago when you were being nice.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, remembering you were on a time limit. So you turned to pick up the massage oil. 

“Lay flat for me, on your stomach.” 

He obeyed without another word, and you took a step closer to the couch. You then shrugged off your hoodie, not wanting to cover it in oil. 

“Alright.” You said as you tossed it on top of Noah’s tshirt. 

He looked back over his shoulder at you. 

“If anything hurts, tell me. I’m not a professional, so promise you won’t sue me or the club if… I dunno, I break your shoulder or something.”

“I promise.” He laughed, folding his arms and resting his head on them. 

You looked at the couch… then at him… then at the couch. 

“…This is going to be awkward.” You said under your breath. 

“What is?”

“The angle.”

He frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t really reach your shoulders from here, not comfortably at least, so...” You sighed dramatically. “I’m going to have to climb up there.”

“Up there?” 

“On you.” You clarified. 

He bit back a smile.

“I have complete faith in you.”

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t.”

He heard you muttering to yourself as you tried to work out the least ridiculous way to do it.

“Left knee… no… that’s worse.” 

Finally, you carefully climbed onto the couch behind him, balancing yourself with one hand on the backrest.

“This feels very undignified.”

“I wish I could see what you’re doing.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

Another second of shuffling followed…

“There.” You settled yourself down rather comfortably on his butt, your knees on either side of his hips. The position felt quite ridiculous, but it gave you the perfect leverage to reach his broad shoulders. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“…Are you comfortable?”

“I think so.” You smiled, pouring a little oil into your hands, warming it between your palms before reaching for his shoulders. 

“You ready?”

“Mhm.” He nodded into his arms.

Your thumbs pressed gently into the muscles beside his neck, and you immediately felt how tight they were. You worked slowly, using steady pressure rather than force, following the lines of muscle across his upper back. You didn’t realise you were rocking your hips with every movement, but Noah suddenly went very still. 

Every time you leaned forward to put more pressure into your hands, your hips roled, pressing your warm core firmly against the curve of his ass. After a couple of minutes, you felt him move underneath you, his muscles tensing instead of relaxing. 

“You okay down there?” You asked, still rocking slightly as you massaged lower down his back.

Noah’s voice came out a little strained.

“…Yeah. Just… keep going.”

You smiled, completely unaware of this effect you were having on him right now. Your hips continued to roll with the rhythm of the massage, rubbing your barely covered pussy against him over and over. The thin fabric of your thong did almost nothing to hide how warm you felt against him, even through his jeans.

Noah’s hands clenched into fists. His cock was now fully hard, trapped underneath him and grinding against the couch with every little movement you made. The pressure was driving him insane, and he wasn’t even sure you were doing it on purpose. 

You leaned forward again, your breasts brushing against his back this time as you worked on his spine, and let out a soft, focused hum.

“God, your back is so tight…”

Noah let out a quiet, broken sound that he tried (and failed) to disguise as a normal groan. Then, you finally sat back on his butt, still straddling him, and gently patted his side.

“Alright, big guy. Time to flip over. I wanna do your front too.”

Noah didn’t move right away.

“…Uh, okay. Maybe give me a second.” He mumbled into his arm, his voice hoarse.

You tilted your head, curiously.

“Why?” You chuckled.

He let out an embarrassed laugh.

“Because if I turn over right now, you’re going to see exactly what your little massage has done to me.”

A wicked smirk spread across your face. 

“Oh really?” You purred, “You got hard from me sitting on you like this and rubbing your back? Poor baby, were you that wound up?”

“You’ve been rocking your hips on me for the last five minutes,” he rasped, fingers digging into the couch, “What the fuck did you expect?” 

You laughed softly, biting your lip as you leaned forward, pressing your tits against his back while your hands slid down his sides. 

“Mm, I bet your dick's aching, huh?” You whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “Trapped underneath you, where you can’t touch it… bet you wish it was my hand wrapped around it, hm?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” Noah grumbled, but there was no real complaint in his voice, just strained arousal. 

“I am,” you smirked, sitting up straight and giving his ass a playful squeeze with your thighs. “It’s not every day I get to make a big, sexy guy like you this desperate just by giving him a back massage.” 

You finally climbed off of him, wiping your hands with the folded towel on the table, then looked back over at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

“C’mon, turn over for me,” you said, tapping his side, “Let me see what I did to you.” 

Noah hesitated for a second, then slowly rolled onto his back. And the moment he did, the very obvious, very thick bulge in his jeans was impossible to ignore. Your eyes widened before you let out a delighted little laugh. 

“Wow,” you breathed, staring at him openly, “This all for me, huh?”

You reached out and trailed one finger lightly over up the length of his bulge, not enough pressure to satisfy, just enough to tease. And his hips twitched, a quiet curse slipping his lips. 

“Baby…” He warned, his eyes dark. 

But you just smirked, and swung your leg around him so you straddled him again. You settled your weight on him and slowly rolled your hips forward, grinding your barely covered pussy along the thick length of his cock through his jeans, and you had to bite your lip as your clit rubbed so deliciously against him. 

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying your massage.” You teased, your voice sweet as you started working your hands over his chest and shoulders again. Your thumbs circled his pecs, brushing over his nipples while your hips kept up that slow rhythm.

Noah’s hands flexed at his sides, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his restraint, and he tried to keep his hands off of you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” He warned. 

You leaned down, pressing your tits against his chest as you massaged his shoulders, rolling your hips in a way that dragged your pussy right over the head of his cock with every movement.

“Am I?” You asked innocently, lips brushing his collarbone. “I’m just trying to be nice and help you relax all these tight, hard muscles…”

You sat up again, bracing your hands on his chest as you started rocking harder, grinding down on him with more pressure. The friction was perfect- your clit rubbing against his bulge over and over while you pretended to focus on massaging his abs. You almost forgot that you shouldn't be doing this here.

Noah’s breathing grew ragged. His cock throbbed hard beneath you, leaking precum into his boxers.

“Fuck… baby,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

You bit your lip and rolled your hips even slower, dragging your wet pussy along his entire length.

“Good,” you whispered, voice dripping with the teasing sweetness you know how to do so well. “I want to feel how much you like it.”

You kept going, grinding and rolling and pressing down harder with every pass, your own breathing getting heavier as you worked yourself against him. Your hands never stopped moving, sliding over his chest, his tummy, his shoulders, all while you rode his clothed cock like you were in his bed instead of a private room at the work.

Noah’s hands finally snapped up, making you jump as he gripped your hips hard, fingers digging into your soft flesh to stop your movement completely.

“Sorry- fuck, stop moving,” he rasped, his voice strained and desperate. His cock was twitching beneath you, and he felt right on the edge. “I’m serious. I’m about two seconds away from cumming in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

You looked down at him with a satisfied little smirk, still gently rocking despite his tight grip.

“Aww, poor thing,” you cooed, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You really are that worked up, huh? Just from me sitting on your lap and giving you a massage?”

Noah let out a shaky breath, thumbs stroking your hips even as he held you still.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathed, his eyes dark with lust. “Keep teasing me like this and I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, and with one last kiss to his neck, you pressed your finger to his lips as if to shush him. 

“Not a sound. Sit up.” You instructed as you stood yourself. 

You turned your back to him for a moment as you gathered your hair and tied it into a ponytail. Then you turned back around, and dropped gracefully to your knees between his spread thighs. You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you warned him as your fingers already started working his zipper, “If anyone finds out I did this- any of this- I could lose my job.” 

Noah nodded quickly, his jaw clenched and eyes half lidded as he watched you. 

You pulled his cock free from his trousers. He was rock hard, big, thick and heavy, the head already glistening with precum. You wrapped your hand around the base and gave him one slow, firm stroke, watching his thighs tense.

Then you leaned in and took him into your mouth.

Noah’s head fell back against the back of couch, a silent, strangled groan caught in his throat as you started sucking him, slow, wet, and sloppy. You took him as deep as you could, gagging softly when he hit the back of your throat, then pulled back with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock.

You looked up at him again, eyes watery but determined, and whispered,

“Not a sound, Noah. Or I stop.”

Noah nodded desperately, biting his lip hard.

You immediately went back down, taking him deeper this time. Loud, wet, filthy sounds filled the private room as you bobbed your head fast. Spit ran down his thick shaft messily, dripping onto his balls while you worked him.

You pulled off just long enough to look up into his eyes and spit on his cock, then stroked him fast and tight while your tongue swirled around the sensitive head, licking up every drop of precum like it was your favourite little treat.

“Fuck… baby-” Noah choked out in a broken whisper, one hand flying to your ponytail.

You moaned around his cock in response, the vibration making his hips jerk. Then you pushed yourself further, relaxing your throat and sinking all the way down until your nose nuzzled against his pelvis. You held him there, your throat fluttering and squeezing around him, glossy lips stretched wide around the base of his cock.

Noah’s whole body tensed, and his thighs started shaking.

You pulled back with a gasp, strings of thick spit connecting your mouth to his cock, leaving a ring of sparkly lips gloss at his base, then you immediately went back to sucking him hard and fast- sloppy, messy, and just straight up pornographic. Your hand stroked the base in time with your mouth while your other hand gently rolled and squeezed his heavy balls.

Fuck, Noah was losing it. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving, fingers tightening almost painfully in your hair as he fought to stay quiet and in control. His cock throbbed on your tongue, leaking constantly, then you looked up at him with teary, cockdrunk eyes and moaned again, sucking harder, hollowing your cheeks as you took him as deep as you could.

And that was all it took. Barely three minutes after you’d started, Noah’s hips rutted and his grip on your hair turned almost painful.

“I’m- shit, I’m cumming-” He gasped, his strained voice barely a whisper.

You moaned eagerly and pushed him deep into your throat just as he came. Hot ropes of cum spilled down your throat as his cock throbbed in your mouth. You swallowed around him greedily, milking every drop while he trembled and whimpered quietly above you. Even after he finished, you kept sucking gently, cleaning him up with soft and lazy licks until he was twitching and oversensitive.

When you finally pulled off, you wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb and looked up at him with a wicked little smile.

“Already?” You teased softly, your voice sweet and mocking. “I thought big rockstars like you had better stamina than that, baby. You came so fast… did my mouth feel that good?”

Noah let out a breathless, embarrassed laugh, dragging a hand down his flushed face.

“You’re evil,” he muttered, still trying to catch his breath. “Absolute fucking evil.”

You giggled and kissed the tip of his softening cock before tucking him back into his pants.

“Worth every penny you’re about to spend on me tonight, though… right?” 

Noah sat up slowly, his eyes still dark and hungry as he looked at you kneeling between his legs. He cupped your face with one big hand, his thumb brushing over your swollen, glossy lips.

“Come home with me instead,” he said, his voice rough. “Right now. Fuck the rest of your shift.”

You bit your lip, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Noah… I would but I promised this guy a lap dance in like five minutes. I can’t just-”

“I don’t care,” he cut in, leaning forward so his forehead rested against yours. “I’ll pay for it. I’ll pay triple what he was going to give you. I’ll cover all your house fees for the whole night, plus whatever tip you would’ve made. Fuck it, I’ll even pay the club an extra 2k if it means they’ll let you leave early..”

You raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by how quickly and casually he was throwing out numbers.

“Noah… that’s a lot of money.” You said as you stood up, only to be pulled down into his lap again. 

“I don’t care,” he said immediately, one hand sliding up to cup your jaw. “I’ve been stuck on a fucking tour bus for six weeks jerking off to the thought of you every night. I just came down your throat in under three minutes like a desperate loser. I need to return the favour. I need you tonight. All night. In my bed. On my tongue. Riding my cock until sunrise.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours as he kept talking.

“I promise I’ll make it worth it for you, princess. Five thousand. Six if you want. Whatever it takes so you can walk out that door with me right now and not worry about losing money.” His thumb stroked your bottom lip, hsi eyes burning into yours. “So what do you say? Let me spoil you properly. Come home with me tonight and I promise I’ll take care of everything- the club, the money, you. All of it.”

You felt heat pool between your legs at how insistent and generous he was being. The way he was willing to throw money at the situation just to have you. So you smiled slowly, leaning in to kiss him.

“Okay,” you whispered against his mouth. “I’ll go tell everyone I’m sick or something. Give me five minutes.”

Noah’s grip on your hips tightened, and he kissed you harder, deep and possessive.

Author's Note: Okay, this is so specific, but it's really only for an audience of one (me) anyways. If anyone else relates, this is for you too, especially if your cataplexy is mainly triggered by laughing. This shit is so annoying but also comical at times.

Nick had said something so incredibly stupid that had you and the others absolutely losing it.

The living room filled with a chorus of laughter and the slap of palms hitting knees or fists slamming on the coffee table. Davis left the space entirely and went off into the kitchen to try and compose himself.

You were standing next to Noah as he leaned against the wall when you felt it.

That weird numb feeling.

"O-Oh no—" you gasped between giggles.

Your head dropped, involuntarily coming to rest on his shoulder, your arms that were crossed over your chest uncrossed and fell to your sides, and your legs became weak.

"What do you mean 'oh no'?" Noah asked with a grin, stifling a snicker.

Before you could answer, you lost the ability to hold yourself up right and crumpled to the floor next to your boyfriend, still giggling away.

His eyes widened before he shouted your name, the room's atmosphere going from humorous to serious in a split second.

"Hey, hey. Babe, what's wrong?" Noah was now kneeling by you, looking horrified.

"I-I'm okay! Just... just laughed too hard," you tried to explain while still thinking about the stupid comment your friend had made minutes ago.

"What? 'Laughed too hard'?" He shot his hand up towards Nicholas, who was standing close with his phone out, probably about ready to call emergency services, as if to halt him from doing so.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll... I'll be able to move again in a m-minute."

He still looked worried as he moved to sit on the floor, pulling you partially into his lap, gently running his fingers along your cheek. "Are you sure you're okay? 'Cause you're freaking me out..."

You nod, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths to help the episode pass.

There was a muttering of voices before Folio—who was desperately trying to ease the tension in the room—spoke. "Oh my God, did my joke kill them?" he teased.

The man above you glared towards his friend but refocused his gaze back on you when you started laughing weakly. "Folio, shut up, I c-can't be laughing..."

There was a jumble of 'dude, now's not the time' from the others and a 'fuck off' from Noah.

"Guys, really, he's fine. The joke was funny, my body is just dumb," you said, trying to get everyone to calm down as you slowly sat up with some help.

You felt like jelly, a disconnect between your brain and body still there as you regained the ability to move.

Once you were seated up right between Noah's legs, your back against his chest, he ducked his head down to look at you. "Okay, what was that?"

"It's called cataplexy," you started to explain, "I've been dealing with it for as long as I can remember. If I feel a really strong emotion, like if I find something really funny, my body basically paralyzes itself."

"... Why?" Nicholas, who was still standing close by, asked.

"My brain lacks enough of a chemical that keeps you awake. I don't really know how to explain it, but the paralyzing is the same kind your body uses when you're asleep—you know, so you don't move or hurt yourself during a dream—but my body just also does it when I'm awake sometimes."

"Wait, should we not make you laugh then?" Folio questioned, looking a little guilty.

"No, no. Oh my God, please make me laugh! It isn't something that happens every time, just usually when something is really stupid and I'm full on shaking with laughter, but even then, I still want to hear jokes or dumb stories."

Noah's arms slithered around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Next time, just... give me a warning okay? You scared the shit out of me, babe," he pleaded before giving a quick peck to your temple.

"Promise I'll warn you next time," you say with a smile as you turn your head to look at him.

Just then, Davis returned from the kitchen, his chuckling under control. "Why are they on the floor?" he asked with a finger pointed at you and Noah, his only answer was another chorus of laughter.

Author's Note: If you find any grammar or spelling mistakes let me know! And please consider commenting, liking, or reblogging if you enjoyed the fic, thanks!