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Dead wife montage but it's all slow motion shots of your dead wife throwing grenades and doing backflips and oneshotting the enemy with their long range weapons
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Chapter six. Chapter five here. Chapter seven here.
AN: So here's chapter six! I hope you'll like it. :) Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist and I apologize if I forgot to tag anyone!
Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, fluff!!! <3
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x F! reader.
Words: 4.8 k
You woke up to movement.
At first, you couldn’t quite place it in your state of half sleep. You hadn’t heard the alarm go off. The room was still dim, curtains drawn just enough to let thin rays of morning light spill across the bed.
The bed shifted beside you. You rubbed your eyes, blinking sleepily. Noah was awake. He was… very awake. Noah was sitting on the bed, hair a little damp from showering. He was already dressed in a hoodie and a pair of jeans. He was sitting against the headboard, one knee bouncing relentlessly as he scrolled on his phone.
You looked at him, then at his phone in his hands, and then back to him again.
“...What time is it?” you croaked.
His head snapped in your direction instantly.
“Oh! Did I wake you?”
You furrowed your brows at him.
“I mean…Yeah,” you said, stretching your arms above your head. “So… What time is it?”
He looked at you a little sheepishly.
“It's… 6:28 AM.”
“...Have you been awake long?”
“Not that long.”
“But you’ve showered?”
“I might’ve been on a run.”
You sat up, looking at him with increased confusion.
“I couldn't sleep,” he admitted simply.
A second later, the alarm on your phone rang. You turned it off with a groan before letting yourself fall sideways against him. Noah barely had time to react before you had climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. His large hands settled around your waist as you buried your face against his shoulder.
“You’re exhausting," you sighed.
Noah giggled.
“Good morning to you too, sweetheart.”
You lifted your head to find him grinning widely. You squinted at him.
“...It’s 6:30 in the morning.”
“Yes.”
“And you went for a run.”
“Also yes…”
“And took a shower…”
“Maybe.”
“I rest my case,” you said as you once again rested your head against his shoulder.
You let out a content sigh as his fingers disappeared into your hair, gently pulling your hair tie from it. He rested his chin on the top of your head as one hand lazily combed through your hair. Noah gently scratched the back of your head and you could feel yourself melt further into him.
To imagine that you a little more than twenty-four hours ago had been terrified of waking up beside a man who regretted everything. Instead, you woke up beside a Noah who couldn’t even sleep because he was so excited to tell his friends.
“You’re still bouncing,” you whispered into the crook of his neck.
He looked down, as if he hadn’t noticed. He stopped for a moment, just to promptly start again. You could only laugh at him.
“Honey…” you giggled.
“I know,” he sighed, “I just can't wait to tell them.”
“They’re probably not even awake yet, you know.”
“I know…”
There was silence for a second while Noah continued to comb through your hair.
“Do you think Jolly’s gonna cry?” Noah wondered.
You laughed quietly against his shoulder.
“You’ve given this some thought, huh?”
“Maybe…”
“For how long?”
He hesitated.
“Since I woke up…”
“Which was?”
“Four.”
You just shook your head.
Neither of you seemed to be in a hurry to move. You could, in fact, have stayed there all day. It took far more willpower than it should have to pull yourself away from him.
“As much as I’d love to stay here forever,” you sighed, sliding off his lap, “I think I should get ready so that we can eat before we need to leave.”
Nick was already sitting at a booth in the breakfast room when you and Noah arrived, sipping coffee and tearing his croissant into little pieces. He smiled warmly as you caught his eye. You went over to sit with him since Noah had insisted that he would bring you your breakfast.
“Morning, mom,” Nick grinned as you sat down beside him.
You gave him a playful shove in the shoulder, even though you noticed that nickname didn’t bother you the same way it did mere days ago.
“Good morning, uncle Nick,” you retorted.
“Ugh! That makes me sound so old!”
You shrugged.
“And how do you think you calling me mom makes me feel?”
He squinted at you for a moment before holding up both hands in front of him.
“Touché,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I’ll stop though.”
A minute later, Noah reappeared, carefully balancing two trays full of plates and two glasses of orange juice, accompanied by one large and one small cup of coffee.
Nick looked from the trays to Noah and back again.
“...Dude.”
You did the same.
“Babe, I asked for breakfast… Not catering.”
Noah shrugged and looked at you.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for,” he said as he sat down on the opposite side of the table. “Take what you want and I’ll have the rest.”
“I know what this is,” Nick said matter-of-factly. “You’re nesting.”
“I’m not!”
“You brought half of the breakfast buffet to the table.”
“You should’ve seen what he ordered last night,” you snorted as you reached for a stack of pancakes.
Nick looked at Noah for a long moment.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“...Nick?”
Nick took another sip of coffee without breaking eye contact.
“You just… I mean— I understand that you’re happy. But you’re grinning like a kid on Christmas at seven in the damn morning,” Nick said.
“What do you mean?” Noah asked. “I’m always cheerful!”
That made both you and Nick snort out loud.
“Rude,” he said, pointing at the two of you.”Both of you.”
“But if you have to know…” Noah started.
“We’re telling Jolly and Folio today,” you finished with a smile.
“I can’t wait to see their faces…” Noah sighed.
Nick chuckled before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and giving you a squeeze. You felt like your heart could burst. The three of you were still the only ones who knew. For a moment, nothing else seemed to exist but the warm familiarity of your friend’s embrace and the impossibly proud smile on your boyfriend’s face.
“They’re gonna be really happy for you, you know.”
“I think so too,” Noah beamed.
As you sat up straight again, reaching for your small cup of coffee, Nick stated that you should hurry up with breakfast before the rest of the band and crew got up and Noah accidentally spilled the secret whilst reaching for scrambled eggs.
Before long, breakfast had given way to the familiar routine of show day. You found yourself squeezed between Noah and Folio in the back of a touring van. Noah's hand instantly found your thigh, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the denim of your jeans.
Jolly, Nick and Folio were all talking about the show later that day. Noah was looking out of the window, gaze fixed on a spot far away.
“I still think that pyro cue is too early,” Jolly said.
“No way!” Folio argued.
“It is though!”
“Okay, Mr. Melody…”
Jolly gasped dramatically, looking offended.
“But if we want it on the beat, it’s perfect,” Folio concluded.
“It’s not.”
“It is,” Folio shrugged. “It’s not my fault that you don’t know what a beat is.”
Nick almost choked on his water, bursting out laughing.
“I know what a beat is!”
“...Debatable.”
“What do you think, Noah?” Nick asked.
Nothing.
“...Noah?”
You gave Noah a bit of a bump with your shoulder.
“Hm?”
“...What do you think?” Nick asked again.
There was a pause.
“...Fire?”
Jolly gave him a look.
“...Have you listened to anything we’ve just said?”
“Not really, no,” Noah admitted with a sheepish grin.
The van slowed as it turned into the road in front of the arena, heading towards the entrance behind the venue. It wasn’t even half past eight in the morning, and yet a line of fans already curled around the side of the building. You watched them, bundled up in hoodies, jackets and blankets in the morning chill. A few seemed to exchange homemade bracelets, a few seemed to be singing. Your heart warmed at the sight. They were all here for them. For the band that, at least to you, it felt like yesterday played for a few hundred people at most.
Nick noticed too.
“Jesus…” he said.
Jolly leaned forwards to get a better look out the window.
“They’re here already?” he said, sneaking a glance at his phone. “It’s 8:25. We’re not on for another like… thirteen hours.”
“They’re dedicated,” you smiled.
“Or insane,” added Folio.
“Probably both,” Nick concluded.
Noah barely noticed. His hand was still resting on your thigh, fingers drumming an uneven rhythm. You put your hand above his, fingers snaking between his. You gave his hand a little squeeze.
“You’re thinking too loud,” you whispered as you put your head on his shoulder.
He gave a small laugh.
“Am I?”
“Definitely.”
As the van came to a stop, Noah exited the car first. He silently held a hand out to you, helping you down the small step. Your handbag slipped down your shoulder and you hoisted it back up again. That morning you had chosen the larger of the two bags you’d brought with you, packing it to bursting point with everything you might need for a day backstage. Without saying a word, Noah slipped his fingers under the shoulder strap of your bag, lifting the bag off from your shoulders and onto his own. You gave him a questioning look.
“Pretty girls shouldn't carry heavy bags,” he stated simply.
Even backstage, the arena felt huge. You had gotten used to larger and larger dressing rooms as the band grew. But this? Corridor after corridor, large room after large room. The hustle and bustle of the crew felt familiar, but the scale of things did not. Flight cases rolled past, crew members with headsets hurried past and disappeared behind unmarked doors.
“This is…” you whispered.
“I know,” Noah said, throwing an arm around your shoulders.
“I feel like I need a map!”
Noah chuckled and led you into a dressing room. The dressing room alone was larger than some of the venues they had played in the past. Black leather sofas had been arranged into a lounge area in the center of the room, surrounded by clothing racks and tables already covered in plates of fruit, pastries and snacks.
You just stood there, taking it all in. Sure, the venues had gotten bigger and bigger. But this first arena tour…? It would take some getting used to. Noah went to unpack his stage clothes, hanging them on one of the clothing racks behind you. Nick dropped onto one of the sofas without a second thought, Jolly made a beeline for the coffee and Folio asked if anyone knew the Wi-Fi password.
A second later, you felt Noah's arms snake around your waist from behind, pulling you gently against his warm chest. His chin settled on top of your head as you got enveloped in the familiar scent of his cologne.
“You good?”
“I was just trying to figure out where this room ends.”
A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest, the vibration traveling through your back as his arms tightened ever so slightly around your waist.
“You’ll get used to it,” he mumbled.
“...Come on. There’s something I want to show you.”
”Oh? Where are you taking me?”
”You’ll see.”
He turned to Nick. “Is that okay? I’ll be back before soundcheck”
“Dude,” Nick grinned. “Go show off.”
Ten minutes later, the van pulled up to a back alley a few blocks away from the arena.
You frowned.
“...Lovely alley, babe!”
Noah only smiled.
“Come on.”
The moment he had pulled you through the back door and into the space, you understood.
He had talked about the pop up stores for a while. He had been really excited about them. But seeing them in real life was something entirely else.
Black drapes covered almost every wall. Somehow the space felt less like a merch store and more like an art gallery. Soft spotlights illuminated framed photographs and artwork from the latest singles, arranged in mismatched antique frames.
“Noah…” you breathed.
To one side, clothing racks held neatly arranged hoodies and t-shirts. On the other side stood the black, sleek counter with the word OMENS glowing on it. Scattered around the room were display cases with memorabilia, stands with old, static TVs. It felt… personal. Intimate.
Noah looked at you instead of the room. Your lips were slightly parted as your eyes wandered across it. Every few seconds they landed on something new, widening again with a mixture of disbelief and childlike wonder.
“You like it?” Noah asked, both hands in his jeans pockets.
“Honey…” you said, walking over to the framed artworks, “It’s beautiful.”
You lifted a hand, gently tracing the intricate design of one of the frames. He walked over too, standing next to you.
“These are gorgeous,” you gushed.
“The frames took way longer than you’d think,” he said, a note of pride in his voice.
As you turned your head, a display case caught your eye. You walked over to it.
“No way.”
You stepped closer to the glass case almost instinctively. The black knit of the ski mask was still intact. But the right side had been transformed to something almost grotesque. Layers of blistered, charred latex clung to the fabric in what looked just like burnt flesh. You leaned even closer.
“You know…”
Noah hummed beside you.
“I always thought the mask was pretty hot.”
He blinked.
“...You did?”
“Mhm.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“There’s something wrong with you.”
You gave him a blinding smile as an answer.
Then a new hoodie design caught your eye. You walked over, taking the fabric in your hands. It felt soft and warm.
“Noah?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Can I have one of these?”
He laughed.
“You don’t think you have enough Bad Omens merch?”
You furrowed your brows at him.
“Absolutely not.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, Noah reached over your shoulder, slid the hoodie off the hanger and folded it over his arm.
“Come on.”
“We’re leaving?”
“Yeah.” He nodded towards the door, one hand outstretched to you. “Before the team gets here.”
You frowned, but took his hand nonetheless.
“Why?”
The corner of his mouth twitched upwards.
“Because there is no way in hell my own girlfriend is paying for my merch.”
By the time you had made it back to the arena, the backstage chaos had already intensified. The corridors had been quiet enough when you arrived earlier that morning, now they were filled with crew members hurrying past. Some carrying guitar cases, some coils of thick black cables. The crackle of radios mixed with shouts about light and pyro.
The next couple of hours slipped by in the familiar rhythm of show day. In the dressing room, Nick had just lost spectacularly to Ricky in Mario Kart and Jolly had somehow managed to piss a crew member off with a “controversial take” on pizza toppings. You had curled up on one of the sofas next to Noah with his arm lazily draped over your shoulder, hand coming to a rest on your hip. Before you knew it, your eyelids had fluttered shut.
You woke up a while later to Noah gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face.
“Sweetheart…” Noah's voice was little more than a whisper.
You blinked sleepily up at him.
“Oh?”
“I’m sorry to wake you, sleepyhead, but we have media in ten minutes.”
“...Did I fall asleep?”
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
“For about forty-five minutes.”
Your eyes widened.
“I did?”
As you pushed yourself upright, something soft slid from your shoulders into your lap. A soft, fuzzy blanket. You frowned.
“...Where did this come from?”
Nick looked up from where he was now nursing what was probably his fourth cup of coffee of the day.
“You looked like you needed one.”
“Thanks, Nick.”
Nick shot you a smile before pushing himself up from the sofa.
“Ready?” he asked, looking at Noah.
“Yeah.”
You glanced across the room. At some point while you’d been asleep, a part of the dressing room had been transformed. A small camera had been set up against a black backdrop with five chairs set up in a neat row. Jolly and Folio were already chatting with a journalist.
Noah looked back at you.
“You okay?”
“Mhm,” you nodded.
He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.
“I’ll be right over there.”
“I figured.”
He smiled.
“Still.”
With one last kiss to your forehead, Noah turned and made his way over to join the others for a rare interview.
You tucked the blanket a little tighter around yourself before unlocking your phone, absentmindedly scrolling through social media. Every now and again, your eyes drifted up from the screen, catching snippets of the interview as they all seemed to laugh at some inside joke.
“So… looking ahead, this seems to be a big year for you. What’s something each of you is really looking forward to this year?”
Nick answered first.
“Getting home for a bit after this.”
“Sleeping,” Folio added.
Jolly laughed.
"European festivals. We’re playing in my home country for the first time this year,” he smiled.
The interviewer turned to Noah.
“What about you?”
For a brief moment, his eyes found yours. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“...A lot.”
The interviewer seemed satisfied with the vague answer.
“Sounds like it's going to be a good year.”
“It will,” Noah said quietly.
The interview wrapped up a few minutes later, the journalists thanking them before the camera switched off.
Almost immediately, the door of the dressing room swung open. Someone from production stuck their head through the door.
“Catering is up next door.”
A chorus of appreciative hums spread through the room.
“Finally,” Folio sighed, already halfway to the door.
“I swear your internal clock revolves entirely around food,” Nick laughed.
“It does!”
The catering room was already full by the time you arrived.
Crew members stood in line, holding paper plates in their hands. There were conversations from every direction. Someone discussed pyro cues, someone else was talking about their dog and laughter filled the room from every direction. You took another step forward, picking up a plate and froze. Row after row of sushi stretched across the entire table. Shit.
“...Babe?” you whispered.
“Hm?”
“...I can’t eat sushi.”
Noah looked at you, to the buffet, and then back to you again.
“Fuck.”
He slipped past you, leaning in for a better look.
“Okay… Okay. There must be something…” he mumbled, mostly to himself.
As the people ahead of Noah in line moved on, he stepped up to the buffet and began inspecting it with almost comical seriousness. He found… sushi. More sushi. And even more sushi. You watched his eyes flick towards the salad before drifting back to you. A tiny shake of his head told you exactly what he was thinking: not enough.
For a brief moment you were almost certain that he was about to reach for his phone. Either to google if you could have a few pieces or to order takeaway to the arena. And then something caught his eye. At the very end of the buffet sat a foil tray with its lid still on.
His shoulders dropped. Row after row of vegetarian sushi. He hadn’t even noticed the little handwritten sign. He let out a quiet breath.
“We’re okay!”
You had to bite the inside of your cheek not to laugh at the seven stages of grief that he had seemed to just go through in the span of a minute.
The two of you found seats at one of the long tables. Around you, conversations flowed effortlessly. You had barely picked up your chopsticks when Jolly glanced at your plate with a small frown.
“No spicy tuna?”
You looked up.
“Hm?”
“I thought that was your favorite! There was a whole tray, how could you miss it?” he laughed.
For a moment, it felt like the table had gone quiet. You glanced at Noah. He glanced at you.
“...Uh,” you began.
“She’s going through a weird avocado phase,” Nick spoke up. “I saw her eat an entire avocado for breakfast today.”
You blinked.
Jolly turned towards Nick.
“What?”
Nick shrugged, taking another bite.
“I’ve seen weirder.”
Jolly nodded as that was a good enough answer.
“Fair enough.”
The conversation around the table quickly drifted elsewhere. Beside you, Noah let out a breath he’d apparently been holding. You caught Nick’s eye across the table and mouthed a silent “thank you”. He simply gave you a small nod before returning to his food.
Lunch gave way to soundcheck without further incidents. Stepping into an empty arena was a peculiar feeling. It felt eerily quiet without thousands of voices filling the seats. Every footstep echoed as you crossed the arena floor. Members of the crew moved around with purpose, checking lights and taping down cables.
You settled in one of the empty seats halfway back in the arena. From here, the stage looked even bigger. Towering LED screens hung suspended from the ceiling in staggered rows. You thought they almost looked like the bows from a fleet of ships. Even powered off, they dominated the space. A wash of green spilled across the stage as the guys walked on, the floating triangles overhead glowed one by one. Even with the arena completely empty, the production was breathtaking. You looked around you, at row after row of empty seats. It was staggering to think that they would all be filled in a few hours. You felt so proud of the four boys on stage that your heart could burst.
Noah stepped up to the microphone.
“Check.”
His voice echoed through the arena.
“One.”
“One, two.”
He looked towards the sound booth halfway across the floor and pointed upwards.
“A little more vocals in my in-ears?”
“One, two… Yeah that's good. Thanks.”
Folio adjusted his pedal before kicking his kick drum a few times. He got a thumbs up from front of house.
“Snare… Yeah, good.”
Jolly played a few chords, as did Nick.
“Just Pretend from the second verse,” Noah said into his mic. They played the verse, then stopped.
“Can we try that again with a little more guitar?”
They played it again. Then they went into ARTIFICIAL SUICIDE. Someone adjusted the lights overhead. A burst of flames erupted near the edge of the stage.
“...A little late,” Jolly called.
“It was on the beat!” Folio argued immediately.
“It wasn’t.”
“It literally was.”
Noah sighed and shook his head, but not without a small smile.
“You two are unbelievable,” he said.
The band played another minute before stopping once more.
“Could I get a little less guitar?” Jolly asked.
“Which one?” came a voice.
“My own? I’d say bass guitar if I meant Nicks.”
Noah looked out over the arena, spotted you and smiled. You waved enthusiastically. He grinned and waved back.
Another adjustment. A few more short sections of a couple of songs. A few minor light adjustments.
Then a voice could be heard from front of house.
“Looks good, guys! We’re done.”
Noah returned to the mic stand and put the microphone back. He bent down to grab a bottle of water, took a sip and then nodded at you. It was time.
As you approached the small step of metal stairs leading up to the stage you heard Noah’s voice.
“Jolly, Folio… Nick. Could I steal you guys for a minute?”
Noah reached the bottom of the stairs before you. Without a word, he held out his hand. You looked at him with a smile.
“I am perfectly capable of climbing stairs, you know.”
“I know.”
“...Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you’re carrying precious cargo.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, but you took his hand nonetheless. He steadied you up the few steps and onto the stage. For a moment the two of you just stood there, looking at each other.
Jolly frowned.
“...What’s going on?”
Noah looked at him, then at Folio who was still sitting behind the drums.
“C’mere, will you?”
The two of them looked at each other, then over to Nick. The corners of Nick’s mouth had already started to twitch. He leaned casually against the drum riser with something like relief washing over his face.
Folio climbed down from behind the drum kit, hopping off the riser. Across the stage, Jolly slipped his guitar over his head and handed it to his guitar tech before making his way over. Nick stayed where he was, arms crossed over his chest, watching with a soft smile.
The two men stood before you, confusion written all over their faces. Silence settled over the stage. For the first time all day, Noah looked genuinely nervous. He rubbed the back of his neck. He looked at you, then back at the others, before taking your hand in his. You gave it a little squeeze.
“Do you want to tell them?” you asked.
Folio immediately looked between the two of you.
“...Tell us what?”
“So… Uh…”
He let out a nervous laugh. His eyes found yours for a moment before drifting back to Jolly and Folio.
“We…”
“...There’s, uh…”
He winced at himself. Opened his mouth and then closed it again.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “I had this whole speech planned.”
“...Speech?” Folio echoed.
“Dude, you’re scaring me,” added Jolly.
Noah looked at you with a pleading look. You gave a small laugh before looking at Folio and Jolly.
“We’re having a baby.”
The two of them just looked at you.
Folio blinked once. Then again.
“...What?”
You looked up at Noah, who was wearing the biggest smile. Pride radiated from him. Jolly’s mouth fell open, but no words came out. Folio just looked between you like he’d stopped understanding English.
“I’m pregnant,” you smiled.
“...Shut the fuck up.” Jolly breathed.
“No way…”
“You’re serious?” Jolly croaked.
Noah nodded.
“Yeah.”
Folio seemed to be the first one to process what you first said. A grin spread across his face. Within two strides, he was in front of you, wrapping you in a tight hug. Before you had time to react, your feet had left the floor.
“Folio!” you laughed.
He spun you around, laughing just as hard.
“HELL YEAH! YOU’RE HAVING A KID!”
You were laughing so hard you could barely breathe.
“Woah!” Noah laughed. “Easy with my pregnant girlfriend!”
“Oh, right! Sorry!” Folio said as he carefully set you back down on the ground before pulling Noah into a hug instead.
“Dude…” he laughed, shaking his head. “Congratulations.”
Meanwhile, Jolly still hadn’t moved.
He simply stood there with one hand covering his mouth, staring at you. And then, without a word, he crossed the stage.
His hug was completely different. Gentle. Careful. As though you were made out of glass.
“I’m so happy for you both,” he whispered.
Jolly stepped over to Noah. For a second, the two of them just looked at each other. Then Jolly pulled him into a hug. A proper one. The kind of hug that lasted a little longer than any of them would later admit to.
“Congratulations,” Jolly whispered, cradling the back of Noah's head.
When they finally let go of each other, Jolly ducked his head with a quiet laugh.
That’s when you saw it. A single tear trailing down his cheek. Noah saw it too, grin widening.
“I knew Jolly was gonna cry.”
“Shut up,” Jolly muttered, still smiling.
Jolly looked over at Nick, who was grinning from ear to ear.
“You knew?”
Nick nodded.
“For about two weeks, yeah.”
“Nick knew before me, actually,” Noah said.
Folio and Jolly looked at you.
“What can I say?” you shrugged. “I didn’t want to tell Noah over the phone and I panicked.”
You felt Nick’s arm against your shoulder.
“Lucky for you, I’m the bestest friend in the whole world.”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself!” you snorted.
“So…” said Folio. “How far along are you?”
“We don’t even know for sure. I haven’t had my first appointment.”
Noah's thumb brushed over the back of your hand.
“But around five or six weeks,” he said.
“Really early then?” Jolly asked.
“Very.”
“I just found out two days ago,” Noah smiled.
Folio slowly exhaled.
“...Jesus.”
“You could say that, yeah.”
Jolly frowned.
“Does anyone else know?”
“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I had only told Nick and Noah before you.”
Chapter five. Chapter four here. Chapter six here.
AN: Here's chapter five! :) I think I'll try to get a new chapter out every Wednesday! <3 Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist and I apologize if I forgot to tag anyone!
Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, fluff!!! <3
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x F! reader.
Words: 4.2 k
The breakfast room buzzed with conversations and the soft clatter of cutlery against porcelain. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling across polished wooden floors and neatly arranged tables. The rich smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed with warm pastries and toasted bread filled the air. There was not a single breakfast food you couldn’t think of missing from the buffet.
Your eyes widened.
”…Holy shit.”
You came to an abrupt halt just inside the doorway. Noah almost walked straight into you.
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.”
Chapter four. Chapter three here. And chapter five here.
AN: Here's chapter four. Again, thank you so much for all the love on my little series. This one is short and sweet. I thought about making it longer but decided that this chapter should be one scene only. <3 Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist and I apologize if I forgot to tag anyone!
Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, reader is nervous, fluff!!! <3
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x F! reader.
Words: 1.3 k
”Noah… I’m pregnant.”
Noah went completely still underneath you. He simply stared at you. His hands were still cupping your face but his thumbs had stopped moving. You couldn’t tell if he was still breathing or not. The only sign of life was a slight movement of his mouth. Noah's lips parted as though he was about to say something. But nothing came. He simply stared.
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.”
Chapter three. Chapter two here. And chapter four here.
AN: Here's chapter three. Thank you so much for all the love on my little series. I initially thought it'd be five chapters at most, but I've changed my mind and there's definitely gonna be more. Chapter four on Sunday! <3 Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist and I apologize if I forgot to tag anyone!
Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, Nick is the best as always, reader is nervous, fluff! <3
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x F! reader.
Words: 4.2k
“...Baby?”
You didn’t even reply. You let your bag slide off your shoulder, not even noticing it hitting the floor. It only took one small step until you were in his arms. His hoodie felt so soft under your hands as you wrapped your arms around him. You could hear his heart beat rhythmically as you rested your cheek against his chest.
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.
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Chapter two. Chapter one here and chapter three here.
AN: I finished chapter two faster than I thought. I’m not completely happy with it, it’s feels a bit like a filler chapter. Chapter three will be better! Thank you for all the love on the first part. <3
Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, lies, Nick is the best, fluff!
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x F! reader.
Words: 3.4k
“So when are you seeing him again? Are you coming out for any of the shows?”
“I’m going to the Los Angeles one…”
Nick went silent on the other line. You heard a quiet exhale, followed by the faint rustle of fabric brushing against the receiver. You didn't need to see him to know he had just dragged a hand through his hair. He always did that when he was thinking. Or when he was trying very hard not to say the wrong thing.
“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.
AN: Hiii, I'm a bit nervous to post this since I've only posted one shots before! I think I'll make it into a three or four part series and the rest will be less angsty. Again, english is not my first language. Hope you'll like it! <3
Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, angst, doubts, reader is terrified, some reassurance.
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x F! reader.
Words: 2.4k
How were you supposed to know which one to buy? And why was this aisle in the middle of the store? You felt nauseous, and you could feel the sweat gathering on your forehead. The sterile white light from the store lamps did nothing to calm you down. You tugged on the sleeve of your sweater, trying to focus on reading the packages. You could feel your vision starting to blur. What if someone saw you here? Not that anyone that truly mattered could, since they’ve all left town a week ago - but still.
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.
Everyone came back to the forest pretending it was just another evening at the river; though Noah knew better, and by the time the house appeared through the trees, so did you.
tropes: childhood friends to lovers / boy next door, reckless summer nostalgia / summer romance, mutual pinning & idiots in love, breaking into abandoned-ish houses (lol), sex with feelings
part one | part three
warnings: (three parts - smut in part 3) - explicit language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of ghosts / the paranormal, some smoochin'
note: Hi, lovelies. I am so sorry it took me so long to get this out. When I wrote part one, I had a complete outline and plan for what I wanted, but I had such a hard time writing it in a way that felt right. I literally rewrote this part four different times and was getting so tired of it because I just hated every draft- but as I’ve forced myself to finally finish the last few days I realized it’s because I felt like I had to still keep it in two parts. However, I didn’t want to rush this fic. It’s a very personal one, and only two parts didn’t do this justice, so there will now be a part three so there aren’t 11,000 words on one part lol. I am sorry that the awaited smut will indeed be coming in the next part and that you’ll need to wait a smidge longer. With that said, part three is drafted and just needs to be edited, so should be out by the end of the week and not almost two months later… :,)
By the time seven came, the ring from Noah’s Slurpee cup had dried into a faint circle on your nightstand. You heard the ringing of a bike bell coming from the driveway, and outside, the Crescent glowed warm with the evening light.
Noah stood at the edge of your driveway with one foot propped on the pedal of his bike, his head tilted down at his phone until he felt you looking, then lifting his eyes to your window.
His smile grew the moment you turned around, pretending you hadn’t been staring, and you grabbed your phone before you could think about it any further. By the time you reached the driveway he had placed his device back into his pocket and was leaning over his handlebars, acting like he had been waiting ages.
“It’s about time,” he sighed, rolling his shoulder back in faux exhaustion. “I was starting to think you were making me look stupid out here on purpose.”
“You did that to yourself when you rang your bike bell like a twelve-year-old.” You tossed him a look as you opened the garage with the keypad on the side panel.
Noah glanced down at the bell, then flicked it once with his thumb.
You stared at him. “Are you done?”
“No.” He grinned, dinging it again. You groaned but held a smile, missing the way his own turned softer at the sight of yours.
Your bike was where you had left it years ago, leaning against a pile of cardboard boxes and an old plastic basketball hoop that was covered in dirt and scratches. The tires were a little dusty, the rubber handles peeling. Noah watched as you tugged it free, the whir of the bike chain faint as you walked it beside you.
“When’s the last time you rode it?”
You glanced down at the bike, then back at him. “The bike, or a dude?”
Noah’s eyebrows lifted as he snickered smugly, watching you swing your leg over the seat. “I obviously meant the bike, but it’s interesting you needed that clarification princess.”
“You asked a vague question,” you replied, rolling your bike with the tips of your toes to the keypad, closing the garage. You then turned to him with a frown.
“I asked about the bike,” he said, eyes bright. “You’re the one who made it dirty.”
You opened your mouth, then closed it again when nothing decent came out. Noah’s smile only got bigger.
“Oh, don’t look so pleased,” you said, pushing off before your face could get any warmer.
His laugh followed as he rolled after you, leaving the rumble of the garage door behind.
For a little while, neither of you said much. Noah rode beside you at first, and every now and then, his front tire drifted slightly ahead of yours before he eased back without being asked. You always used to complain when he “left you behind”, even when he never really went far enough to lose you. He would never admit out loud that he always liked making you chase him, relishing in the small huff of annoyance you gave when you caught up, just to know he was the one who had actually secretly slowed so you felt like you won.
Though it was never much of a secret when you knew all along. So when he slowed, you thought about how some habits, even through the essence of time, did not know how to die.
At the end of the Crescent, where the sidewalk cracked around the roots of an old poplar, the road bent toward the newer houses.
Noah glanced over his shoulder once, then turned his handlebars toward a narrow opening between two back fences where the grass had been worn flat from years of kids cutting through. The path was easy to miss if you did not know it was there, hidden behind a leaning cedar and a rusted chain link gate.
You slowed, pressing your brakes. “We’re still taking this way?”
Noah stood on his pedals, already disappearing into the break between the fences. “You always did.”
As the houses disappeared behind you and the trees grew thicker, the forest held the smell of summer. The earth was sweet, heavy, from the leaves baking softly in the sun. Pine and sap, along with the waft of warm bark, swelled through a soft hymn of bugs dancing through blades of tall grass that brushed your tires. As you inhaled deeply through your nose, relishing in the smell of nostalgia, you couldn’t help but watch the way Noah rode ahead.
He was taller now, needing to duck beneath branches with half a second to spare; and although the first one missed him, the second waiting beyond it did not.
The branch hit Noah square in the face, causing him to bark out a sound, his bike jolting over the uneven trail. He looked back at you once more before his front tire bumped over a root.
“You good?” you called, already laughing.
“I’m fine. That thing barely got me,” he shouted, running the back of his inked hand over his forehead.
“I dunno, looks like you lost to a tree,” you yelled back, swatting a few mosquitoes out of your face.
You stuck out your hand, letting the bushes skitter across your fingertips, the various shades of green fluttering over the skin as you passed. The trail ahead widened near the end of the bend, and Noah’s old brakes squeaked sharply as he eased just enough for you to catch up.
He glanced over at you then, noticing the quiet that emanated around you, his mouth already pulling around a comment. But whatever he had been about to say fell from his face when the front tire of his bike caught on a rock beneath the dirt.
“Jesus, Noah,” you laughed, watching him jerk the handlebars straight and hold himself with one foot, shoe dragging through the earth. “Maybe if you stopped staring at me, you’d actually ride straight.”
He blew a strand of hair out of his face, his smile flashing before he turned forward again. “Maybe if you stopped being distracting, I’d have a chance.”
It was hard to hide the flush that climbed onto your cheeks and ears, so you looked away before he could read into it. For a while, you focused on the path instead of him, noting the way the grass grew thicker and the bird song grew louder.
As the ground gradually sloped downward, you recognized the narrowing trail where the dirt became softer, the air cooling a few degrees as the trees opened wider ahead. The echo of the river grew louder before revealing itself at the end of the path, your chest tightening around the memory of it.
You caught glimpses of the shallows first, then the moss-dark stones and the fallen log still resting near the bend. For one second, you expected the water to welcome you back, falling back into step, not only through memory.
Though when Noah stopped and leaned his bike against the same tree he always had, you couldn’t help but realize how shallow the river had seemingly become.
“Why does it look so much… smaller, now?”
Noah followed your gaze to the water. For once, he did not answer right away.
The river moved over the stones in that same rush, but it no longer seemed wide enough to swallow you. To the left, the round pocket you had built as kids still sat cupped inside its crooked ring of rocks, somehow intact after all these years; but now it was small and bare, with only a few minnows swirling through the clear water without purpose.
“I think we got bigger,” he said finally.
You looked over at him, only to see the way he watched the current held the same longing you felt along your chest.
“That’s stupid.” Your voice came out softer than you meant it to.
Noah shrugged. “It’s unfortunately the answer.”
As you glanced back at the river and the log and that stupid little stone pool that stubbornly survived- your shoulders fell.
“Why did we have to grow up?” you asked, and Noah barely heard you over the sound of the water.
“I don’t know,” he said, making you turn, tracing his eyes with your own. “Sometimes I hate that we did.”
You watched his mouth open and close, clamping over words he did not seem ready to give. His stare moved over your face, catching the way your brows twitched in question at his hesitation, before he dropped his gaze to the ground.
Noah’s jaw worked once more to chew back the question. Though he let it slip anyway.
“Did you ever want to stay?”
He looked up slowly, and you wished he hadn’t. You wished he had kept his eyes on the dirt so you could pretend the sound of the water had swept away the question before you could have heard it.
The way you sucked in a breath gave him the answer. “Noah,” you whispered, almost apologetic.
His lips twitched, but there was no humour behind it. “Sounds like yes.”
It was easier then to look back at the river than it was to look at him. “I did,” you admitted. “For a long time, I really did.”
Noah’s voice softened. “Then why didn’t you?”
You swallowed down the words you couldn’t say. Because staying would have meant wanting things you were too scared to name, and leaving had felt easier than standing next door to him every summer and pretending your heart did not trip every single time he smiled at you. You had been seventeen, and then eighteen, and then gone; which wasn’t that what you were supposed to do? Grow up and then… leave?
You only shrugged, eyes fixed on the current. “I had to start my life.”
Then it was Noah's turn to look away before you could see the way his eyes sank in vulnerability, his hands now resting inside his pockets because at least then he could cover up and hide even just a small part of himself.
“You had one here,” he stated. “With the boys and your family.”
He shrugged his shoulders, though there was nothing careless about it or the way he now looked down at the ground as he toed away at a loose rock in the dirt.
“With…me.”
It was unfair the way your heart ached from his words. You faced him, yet he remained poised towards the river, licking his lips and lifting his head to stare out across the bend, as if you weren’t there.
Sucking in a nervous breath, you laughed faintly. “I think that was the problem.”
Noah’s brow pulled together slightly, and you hated the way he understood just enough to be hurt by it.
“I mean,” you continued quickly, “aren’t we supposed to do that? Leave and go figure out who we are away from everything we used to be?”
Away from you, you did not say.
Noah finally turned, not just his head but his whole body, facing you with what now seemed like confrontation.
“Did it work?” he asked. “Do you feel any different than you did then?”
And although he did not say what he truly meant, because he did not ask if leaving had made you forget the shape of summers with him- or if another city or another man had been enough to make your heart stop reaching backward, you knew.
So Noah continued to stare, waiting to see if you would lie.
“No.” You whispered, breathing another moment before letting the words go. “I’ve only gotten older.”
Noah's face twitched. It was small, barely more than the pull of his brow, and his mouth parted around a breath he was not ready to take.
For once, he did not look like he knew what to do with you.
“Trees,” he said softly.
You opened your mouth, but whatever you might have said was swallowed by the bushes rustling behind you.
The blob of a man crashed through the brush from the left with a plastic bag hooked around his wrist, and you screamed high-pitched with fear as you jumped back, letting go of your bike.
The swede screamed at the sound, bag swinging around as the cans clattered together, and Noah stumbled backward, hand clutching his chest. “Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?”
“What is wrong with me?” Jolly yelled, eyes wide as he gasped. “She screamed first.”
“You came out of the trees!” You snapped breathlessly, sighing in relief that it was just Jolly.
Folio appeared behind him, pushing his bike through the bushes with a cider in his hand. Ruffilo laughed, snorting heavily as he ducked beneath a branch.
“I told him not to jump out.” Ruffilo tried to hide his smile as he looked between you and Noah. “But now I’m kinda glad he did.”
“To be fair, I didn’t jump,” Jolly argued, huffing out a breath, “I merely emerged.”
The weight of Noah’s stare lingered at the side of your face as you kneeled to pick up your bike, gripping the handlebars. Both of you pretended that your racing hearts were only because Jolly had decided to crawl out of the woods, that when you finally risked a glance, Noah looked away too quickly, dragging a hand through his hair.
Folio took a slow sip from his drink, eyes moving between the two of you with interest. “So,” he said, swallowing. “Are we interrupting something, or...?”
“No,” you said too quickly.
Noah answered at the same time. “Shut up.”
Jolly’s eyes widened with delight as Ruffilo stepped around a patch of mud near the bank.
“Okay, well, before this becomes whatever that was, change of plans,” Folio said, crushing his can and tossing it into your bike basket.
You looked at him. “We just got here.”
“Exactly,” Jolly said, “And the vibes are off.”
“The vibes?” Noah repeated, still a little breathless.
Jolly gestured broadly toward the river. “Look at this place. It’s depressing now.”
“It is not depressing,” you said, though your voice gave you away.
“But it is, though. We got here early,” Folio explained, shifting his bike against his hip, “and Jolly started talking about how the log looks tiny now, which made Ruffilo say it’s probably because we’re adults, which made Jolly spiral about taxes and dental coverage and how he pulled something in his back last week just because he sneezed funny.”
“I almost died, and that's a fact,” Jolly said solemnly.
Noah’s mouth twitched despite himself, some of the tension loosening from his shoulders. “So what, the river hurt your feelings?”
“Yes,” Jolly said, pointing at him. “Thank you for understanding.”
“So where are we going instead?” you asked.
Jolly’s grin returned, which should have worried you. Folio looked far too pleased as he swung one leg back over his bike. Ruffilo however sighed because a part of him had already regretted leaving his house.
Noah noticed, and his head tilted, eyes narrowing. “No.”
“Yes,” Jolly countered.
“No, what?” you asked, eyes darting between them.
Jolly only smiled wider at that, pushing his bike back toward the trail. “You’ll know it when you see it.”
By the time the trees thinned again, before the house had fully appeared through the leaves, you already knew.
“No,” you mirrored, the word weak.
The clearing opened gradually, the trees loosening around the trail until long grass brushed everyone’s legs, and the Miller house came into full view at the far edge of the clearing.
The white siding had gone grey with age, and even the thistles were tall enough to scrape your calves, sprouting through the dirt around the porch which now sagged in the middle. One of the front windows had been boarded from the inside, the wood warped with water stains, while sheets of plastic hung behind the others, shifting in the breeze.
It looked just as abandoned as you remembered, even with the signs of renovation showing through. Nonetheless, the sight of it made your heart kick heavily.
Folio spread his arms. “Yes.”
“Be for fucking real,” you groaned, not even trying to hide the whine that slipped into your voice. “You think this abomination is better than the river?”
Jolly turned toward the house. “What? No better time to find the woman in the window than at the ripe age of twenty-five!”
Noah glanced at you, and you looked away too quickly, pretending the upstairs window had stolen your attention first.
It was easier to fear the ghosts, you thought.
He made a quiet sound beside you, not quite a laugh, and you frowned. “You’re thinking about it, aren't you?”
Noah’s smile deepened as his hand found the small of your back, warm through the thin fabric of your shirt as he nudged you closer to the house. “What, you mean the getaway ride?” His eyes flicked to the upstairs window, then back to you.
Your face warmed before you could stop it. “Noah, I swear I saw her.”
He did not laugh right away. His smile softened, caught on the memory of when you were twelve, hands twisted into the back of his shirt, knees bumping against his bike frame as you screamed at him to go faster. You had been so worried that something was chasing you, and he had been laughing so hard he nearly tipped you both into the curb.
He then looked down at himself, a proud hum vibrating from his chest. “Well,” he said, easing his hand from the small of your back, “I can protect you now that I’m big and strong.”
You blinked at him. “Great,” you muttered. “I’m sure the ghost is terrified.”
Noah’s tease was gentle beside you. “She should be.”
Folio yelled from ahead, “She’s been dead for a hundred years bro.”
“Then she’s had plenty of time to hear about me and my katana.” Noah cupped his hand over his mouth and called toward the upstairs window, “I’m not afraid of you!”
The plastic behind one of the upstairs windows ruffled against the wood in a papery shift where the breeze caught and dragged it lightly against the frame. Your eyes snapped toward it, and you stepped toward Noah so quickly your bike tipped sideways from between your hands.
You were close enough now that your shoulder brushed his, and he stilled beside you for only a second before turning to look down at your grip on his arm. A smug smile curled from the corner of his lips, though beneath it, you felt the way his arm tensed. His breath had caught quietly, and when your fingers shifted against his skin, his pulse jumped beneath your thumb.
Noah’s gaze moved from your hand to your face, his face still teasing except for the part of his eyes that had gone too warm. Jolly and Folio were snickering ahead, but you ignored it, too embarrassed by where your hand was and how fast Noah’s heart seemed to be answering.
Ruffilo, who had been quiet for too long, exhaled through his teeth. “Can we not yell when we are literally about to trespass?”
Leaving your bike behind in the trees, you followed the boys toward the porch. The house looked worse the closer you came to it, stripped down to wood and chunks of siding.
“So, no one lives here anymore?”
Folio shook his head as Jolly reached the front door and wrapped a hand around the withered handle. “Nope. Someone bought it and started renovating. It’s entirely gutted right now.”
The door rattled in its frame as Jolly pushed against it once, the old wood complaining without opening. He huffed out a sigh and stepped carefully across the splitting porch, pausing whenever one creaked too loudly beneath him.
“They thought it would be fun to sneak in and take a peek,” Ruffilo said, his mouth flattening as he watched Jolly move toward the front window.
“Thought? Like, past tense?” Folio echoed, already following.
“Yeah, because I still think,” Jolly corrected.
Lingering at the bottom of the porch steps, your eyes moved over the mismatched boards and the plastic taped behind the windows. The gap beneath the front door was dark, dust and old leaves collecting between the grooves.
Noah stepped up beside you, his arm brushing yours. “You good?” he asked quietly, and you nodded.
You looked toward the window just as Jolly slid it upward, the wood scraping against the wood, making Ruffilo wince. Jolly froze halfway through, eyes wide, one hand still shoved beneath the frame until the window gave way all at once, jerking open with a sharp crack.
The Swede immediately grinned, turning back toward the rest of you with triumph before ducking his head inside. He climbed in, his long limbs lanky and awkward as he caught himself on the other side. Folio followed with less grace, laughing under his breath when his shoe knocked against the frame, and Ruffilo stood on the porch for one long second before finally sighing and climbing in after them.
Placing your hands on the chipped sill, sawdust pressed into your palms when you leaned forward. Inside, Jolly had already moved deeper into the front room, his voice echoing strangely through the gutted space, and Noah placed himself behind you.
“Here,” he said softly. His hands found your waist, warm through the thin fabric of your shirt. You sucked in a breath, hoping he didn’t hear the sound as he helped hoist you through, lifting your body as you pulled.
Your knee caught on the sill and Noah’s grip tightened.
“Careful, Trees,” he murmured, voice slipping beneath your skin.
“I’m trying,” you whispered, and it came out less annoyed than you wanted. With an awkward push, you made it over the frame and stumbled into the house, landing on the dusty floor with both hands out to steady yourself. Noah followed right after, ducking through the window, fingers braced on the sill before his sneakers hit the floor behind you.
The smell of sawdust and earth gathered thickly inside the house, mixed with old wood and the dry, chalky scent of drywall. It clung to the back of your throat as you straightened, brushing your palms against your shorts and leaving pale streaks behind.
Everything inside had been stripped down to the bones of the place, the walls open with exposed studs. The floor was scattered with old leaves, littered with pieces of torn plaster. Sheets of plastic hung in various places from the ceiling, dripping down through every doorway and hallway, turning the last of the evening light hazy and orange as the outside light bled through.
Noah brushed dust from his hands, and as you watched, you could still feel the phantom pressure of his fingers still resting at your waist, even though he had already let go.
You shifted forward before the feeling could show on your face, reaching into the plastic bag to grab your own can as Jolly, Ruffilo and Folio opened another.
Jolly wandered farther into the living room, phone light raised, even though there was still enough light to see. The beam swept over a peeled strip of wallpaper, a ladder leaning against the far wall.
“This is significantly better than the river.” He said, voice echoing through the hollow room,
Folio tipped his can toward the ceiling, squinting up at the exposed beams. “Yeah. Kind of cozy.”
“Nothing about this is cozy,” Ruffilo muttered, and even though you would’ve hummed in agreement, you barely heard them.
Your eyes had already found the staircase, a shiver running down your spine. Half the banister had been removed, and the remaining steps climbed into a darker pocket of the house where the orange light did not quite reach. Somewhere above, plastic shifted as another breeze cast through any cracks; the sound, though small, was enough to make that old childhood fear crawl up your throat.
Noah, to your dismay, had been watching you the entire time.
“Still scared of the upstairs?” he asked quietly.
You shot him a look. “No. I’ve grown up…”
His eyes remained careful, fixed on your own. “Yeah. You told me.” Then, his mouth turned with knowing. “Doesn’t mean much changed.”
Staring at him with the awareness of the way he looked at you, daring you to follow, made you swallow thickly. His smile stayed small, but there was less teasing in it now.
“Prove it, Y/N.”
The sound of your name in his mouth made the room feel even more barren than it physically could be. Only the boy next door could take something as stupid as a dare and make it about something else entirely.
“Fine,” you said, because backing down would have been worse, and Noah’s nod made it harder to breathe.
Folio went first, one hand sliding along the wall where the banister had been removed. The stairs groaned beneath his weight, each sound loud through the hollow house. Ruffilo followed after him, quieter now, as Jolly took the rear.
You stepped onto the first stair, which caused the wood to dip beneath your foot, Noah close behind you. His breath was quiet at your back, his steps matching yours as the orange light from the living room below grew into a dusk grey above. It was warmer on the upper landing, dust coating the air with the smell of stale drywall.
The old fear curled around your stomach, but so did something else when Noah then threaded his fingers through yours.
You looked down before you could stop yourself, watching his hand find yours in the dim light. The boys had lowered their voices to whispers, as if the darkness only welcomed softer things.
“Noah,” you whispered, and he only looked ahead, his thumb brushing once against your knuckle.
“Proving it,” he murmured.
It was hard not to think about the way his fingers fit between yours perfectly, as if they were furious they had waited so long, or the way he held you without teasing and tugging just to see what affect he had on you.
At the top of the stairs, the hallway opened into a larger bonus room stripped bare like the rest of the house. Folio lifted his phone, sweeping the flashlight across the room.
The beam caught on a rolled-up rug, tucked against another ladder placed just below the attic. A tin bucket of tools sat against a withered door, propping it open, as more plastic drapes coated the walls.
“Okay,” he whispered, quieter now. “Well this is actually creepy.”
Every pair of shoes crunched against the torn floor, the sound of a nail skittering and rolling across the wood ringing through the quiet hall when Ruffilo kicked it by accident.
Jolly raised his own phone light, grin returning even though his voice had dropped. “Helloooo, window woman.”
Ruffilo stood near the top of the stairs, arms tight around himself. “This is such a bad idea. If someone is outside, the sun is setting so fast they’ll be able to see us through the windows.”
As if the spirits had heard him, a pale sweep of headlights cut through the plastic of the front bedroom.
Everyone froze, your hand squeezing Noah's before you could think. The light moved slowly over the room, casting shadows along the walls, making the exposed studs throw long, thin lines across the floor.
Folio lowered his phone first as Jolly glanced at the group, and Ruffilo whispered a rushed, “Turn them off.”
Every flashlight went dark as Jolly cursed under his breath.
“Why would you manifest that shit, man?”
The sound of tires crunching over gravel grew louder as the car approached the house. No one moved as the room held you all in place, the hum of the engine echoing through the walls. Another beam of light dragged over the plastic, brighter this time, and the floorboards beneath your feet glowed faintly before falling back into shadow.
“Move,” Ruffilo hissed.
Panic broke through the room all at once. Jolly grabbed Folio by the sleeve and stumbled toward the hanging sheets of plastic, both of them slipping and crashing into the ladder. It fell to the floor with a metallic clatter, loud enough to make Noah swear under his breath.
Ruffilo ducked toward the back bedroom as Folio and Jolly followed. You were about to join them before Noah’s hand tightened around yours.
“This way,” he breathed, pulling you with him.
You stumbled after him through the dark, your shoulder brushing exposed insulation. Your free hand caught briefly against a nail as he guided you toward the withered door at the side of the room. The tin bucket that had been propping it open scraped against the floor when Noah kicked it aside, and the sound made both of you freeze.
Outside, the engine idled, and Noah pulled the door open just enough for you to slip through.
The room beyond was smaller than you expected, narrow, yet tall, with stacks of baseboards piled on the torn carpet. Noah stepped in after you and eased the door mostly shut behind him, leaving only a thin strip of grey light cutting across the floor.
Neither of you breathed until the car door slammed outside.
“Shit,” you looked around, pulling your hand from Noah’s to peek outside the window.
It faced the backyard, the plastic taped over the glass turning everything outside blurry, even with the night sky that shone through. Peering underneath one warped corner where the tape had peeled loose, you caught a glimpse of Folio’s face appearing in another upstairs window.
A man’s voice carried from outside, sharp enough to cut through the walls, and Folio’s head disappeared.
“Hey!”
Your stomach dropped, and Noah immediately pulled you from the plastic, pressing your back against his chest and into the closet. Leaning against the wall, he looked over your shoulder toward the yard as a flashlight beamed up from the ground towards the house.
“Stay down,” he breathed as you sank against him, feeling the press of his heart as footsteps crunched below.
Somewhere in the house, something clattered. There was a curse, followed by Jolly’s voice that sounded falsely deep and more polite than he had ever really been.
“Good evening, sir.”
You pressed a hand over your mouth. Noah’s fingers found your waist on instinct, steadying you as both of you froze in the room.
“What the hell are you doing in there?” the man called.
Another clatter followed, and then there was a scream, which was certainly Jolly.
“Get out of there, you little shits!”
“We’re just… looking around?” Folio offered, and you heard the door below open and close, rattling the floor beneath your feet.
Ruffilo’s voice cut in, strained but controlled. “Hey, yeah, we’re leaving. I’m sorry. We know this was stupid.”
“You think?” the man snapped. “This is private property.”
Jolly cleared his throat, yelling at the man who stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “In our defence, the mosquitoes are pretty bad outside. And you should probably put up more signs.”
“Jolly,” Ruffilo hissed, earning a snicker from Folio. The three of them shuffled down the hall, stopping just outside the door you were hidden behind.
Noah’s breath moved unevenly against your hair, almost a laugh, but he swallowed it down before it became a sound.
The man said something you couldn’t make out, lower this time. Ruffilo answered, his voice steadier.
“It’s just us. We promise it won’t happen again.”
Noah’s fingers dug gently into your waist as you tensed against him, realizing they were right outside the door. Ruffilo, Folio, Jolly, and whoever the man was, all close enough that one breath could give you away.
You could hear Jolly breathing too loudly in the hallway as the man’s flashlight cut beneath the crack of the door, a thin white line dragging over the floorboards and stopping just short of Noah’s sneakers.
Noah’s forearm tightened around your middle, making you feel every place his body met yours. Your hands rested on his, and the longer you were pressed against him, the harder your pulse skipped.
“Downstairs,” the man ordered, and there was a shuffle of movement.
Folio’s voice drifted past the door, fading away as they descended. “For the record, I agree that the signage was unclear.”
“Shut up,” Ruffilo whispered.
Both you and Noah stayed in place until the front door slammed shut, locking in place. Their muffled voices carried from outside.
Noah’s fingers loosened but didn’t pull away, giving you enough room to move if you wanted to, but you didn't.
Outside, Jolly said something that made the man bark back at him, but the words blurred beneath the rush of blood in your ears. You shifted carefully to turn and make space where there was none, but the closet was too narrow. Your hip pressed back against him, your body fitting too close to his, and Noah made a low sound in his throat before he could suppress it.
“You okay?” You said quietly, already trying to step away.
His hand tightened once more to keep you there a second longer, which was when you felt the heat of him, the tension below his waist proof he wasn’t as unaffected as he had pretended to be.
Your breath caught, and he knew you realized, every part of him careful.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
As the voices below retreated and the car engine grew louder, you should have stepped forward. Instead, your fingers settled over his knuckles, and you let your body press further against him.
“Trees,” the nickname almost sounded like a plea- your head turning enough to feel his lips brush your temple.
And although you no longer needed to stay in the space of the closet, you did, turning carefully so your shoulder brushed the wall until your chest was against his. You stopped when facing him in the dark, nowhere left to look except at the curve of his lips.
It was hard to see the expression on his face while hidden in the shadow, but as his hand rose to your jaw, thumb brushing the dip of your chin, you had a pretty good feeling about where his own eyes lay.
“Tell me no.” Noah’s breath fanned your face, and you shook your head.
His thumb stilled beneath your chin.
The sound of your name left your chest tight, and for a second, you heard the river again, his voice asking if you had ever wanted to stay.
“I won’t leave this time.” You said.
You rose onto the tips of your toes, and his hand cupped your cheek as he bent toward you, fingers vibrating beneath your jaw, and the recognition of his nerves made a breathy laugh escape your lips.
Noah, who had always grinned smugly in your driveway while trying to make you nervous. Noah, who had stolen your phone and teased you until your face burned. Noah, who always seemed so very sure of himself… here, in the dark, he was shaking- careful until the very second your mouth found his.
At the press of your lips, he did not dare move, as though afraid one wrong breath might make you pull away in regret. But when you pushed harder against his mouth and when your fingers curled into his shirt, kissing him like you had been waiting just as long, his composure fell.
His breath broke hungry against your mouth.
As his hand slid from your cheek into your hair, he tugged at the strands, his mouth deepening the kiss in an ache you felt in your knees. All you could hear was the pounding of your heart as his lips were no longer careful.
Noah exhaled because he had been holding his breath for years, fingers gripping your waist and tightening as he pulled you as close as physically possible.
Your back hit the wall with a soft thud as you spun, and he followed with a hand bracing beside your head to keep from crushing you into it. The movement made the baseboards shift near your feet, and you both froze for half a second, mouths still touching as a breath caught between you.
Outside, the man’s voice carried faintly through the walls over the sound of his car, and you pulled away slightly, just for Noah to brush your lips.
The brunette let out the quietest laugh against your mouth, the sound sending warmth down your arms and across your stomach.
“Shh,” you scolded, though you were the one who had kissed him again.
His mouth curved beneath yours for a moment until the smile disappeared into it. You felt him everywhere, the press of his chest and the warmth of his palm at the base of your neck with the tremble still hiding in his hand every time he touched you.
You had imagined kissing Noah before, dozens of times.
At seventeen, you dreamed of the heat in your backyard with that fire pit smoke clinging to his shirt and his knee brushing yours beneath the table. At eighteen, when he crossed his bedroom window shirtless, albeit on purpose, it was a sight that left you wanting him out loud. Even now, older and supposedly different, you had imagined it in brief, shameful flashes every time your eyes met his.
Yet, you had never imagined him shaking.
Your hands slid up his chest, fingers catching in his shirt as you pulled him down, earning another sound he tried to swallow. Noah held his forehead against yours as he briefly pulled his mouth away.
“Fuck’s sake.” He almost sounded hurt, a tone of disbelief ringing through the words.
Your fingers tightened, meeting his gaze. Your eyes adjusted to the dark, barely able to make out the frustrated lines of his face.
“What?”
Noah shook his head once as his hands slid around your back, one resting low on the curve of your spine while the other held your shoulder blades.
“I thought it would feel different,” he whispered, pulling you toward him as he stepped out of the closet.
Your breath caught. “The kiss?”
“You.” He swallowed, his thumb brushing once at the base of your spine. “I thought that maybe if it ever happened, moving on would feel easier.”
You barely breathed. “And?”
His mouth hovered near yours, not touching.
“It doesn’t.”
The words sat with you, close enough to feel against your lips. All you could do for a long moment was stare at him and the shadows of his face in the dark room. He still held you close, and your fingers loosened before curling into his shirt again, lost in thought.
“No, it really doesn’t.” You agreed.
You reached for him first, fingers sliding into his hair. And when you kissed him again, it was slower, heavier, relishing the taste of his mouth that moved in an agonizing longing you had never once known before. Noah’s tongue pressed slowly along your bottom lip, the sensation making the room tilt beneath your feet.
His lips tried to learn what years had stolen from him, for possibly he could make up for every lost summer both of you had spent pretending not to want this.
Your back met a wall once more before you realized you had even moved, the unfinished drywall leaving a dust of white on the back of your shirt. Noah followed the motion but stopped himself before his weight could press too fully into yours, and even then, he was careful.
The fingers you threaded through his hair ran down the back of his neck, pulling him, and the small distance he had left between you disappeared. The line of him pressed against your thigh, and he let an unsteady breath slip between your mouth as the house creaked somewhere behind the door.
Noah’s mouth dragged from yours only far enough to breathe. “We should stop,” he said quietly, but his thumb brushed the skin beneath your shirt, tracing the waistband of your shorts.
“Do you want to?” You whispered, catching the shift of his jaw as he scoffed a laugh.
For a second time tonight, you thought he may lie. And you almost wanted him to, if only because one of you should have been sensible enough to remember the dust in your lungs, and that your friends were probably waiting somewhere in the treeline for you to escape.
When his ocher eyes lifted to yours, the moonlight casting through the plastic-covered window told you everything you needed to know.
“No,” he said lowly, “Not even a little.”
“Okay,” you replied, his breath catching as your hands lowered to his shorts. Mirroring his fingers, you skimmed his waistband, dipping the tips of your fingers between him and the elastic.
He kissed you harder this time, his hand fully sliding beneath the edge of your shirt. His palm was warm against your waist as he slid it up your back, your stomach pulling tight as he roamed his hands over your skin fervently.
You arched into him without meaning to, and his mouth left yours with a moan, dragging along the corner of your jaw instead. The kiss he left there was open, aching, and hungry as you let your fingers slide a little farther beneath his waistband.
Noah’s hands tightened at your back as he breathed your name in warning, but you only smiled. For all the teasing and cocky grins he could always muster, nothing smug lingered on his face now.
“Let’s go home.” He murmured, dragging his teeth gently down the curve of your neck before pressing a string of kisses back up, stopping only once he reached your mouth. “I need you, but not here.”
You nodded, mouth against his once more before he pulled away, lips brushing your ear. “In my bed,” his words rushing ever lower in your stomach. “Where I can take my time with you.”
part three coming soon
tags: (Join/leave my taglist here) (apologies if they are not updated!)
Everyone came back to the forest pretending it was just another evening at the river; though Noah knew better, and by the time the house appeared through the trees, so did you.
tropes: childhood friends to lovers / boy next door, reckless summer nostalgia / summer romance, mutual pinning & idiots in love, breaking into abandoned-ish houses (lol), sex with feelings
part two
warnings: (three parts- no smut in parts one/two) - explicit language, mentions of underage drinking
note: hey <3 it’s been a while… but I was very inspired this weekend to write. This comes from very personal feelings and thoughts, and therefore is self indulgent (as most of my stuff is lol). But I hope you enjoy, nonetheless :)
Why was it that the older you got, summer seemed to lose its colour first?
As a child, summer made the whole neighbourhood feel bigger than it was. Summer was the sun that spilled through rickety screen doors with knees raw from mosquito bites and hands sticky from sap as you tried not to scratch them. It was blisters from monkey bars and the smell of someone else's barbecue dinner wafting down the street. The chalk from playground gravel dusting your ankles and fingers.
Although all those things felt like a faint memory, it was the taste of summer you seemed to miss most.
You missed the way the heat clung to birch trees, leaving the air tinged with an earthy mist you never meant to taste but always did. It was those sickly sweet cherry slurpees from the gas station and that metallic tang of the garden hose when you were too impatient to go inside for a glass of water. The older you got, it tasted like cheap cider by the river and that cinnamon gum Noah used to chew because he always said that mint was lame.
Back then, summer stretched on forever, and now, at twenty-five, it came and went like everything else in the world seemed to, without waiting for you to be ready to move on.
Time now slipped through work and bills and wedding invitations that held a weird realization that people you used to trade Pokémon cards with were now buying houses, having babies, getting promoted, and maybe even just getting drunk at backyard engagements for people they swore they used to hate in high school.
Yes, summer still came through it all, but it no longer belonged to you.
The aspen trees still leaned over the sidewalks on Evergreen Crescent, their leaves flowing, whispering in the heat. The old soccer fields still yellowed at the edges where the sprinklers never reached, and the forest path still waited between the houses at the edge, dinky and overgrown.
Your house still had that brown porch railing your father swore he was going to repaint every June. The run-down "drug house" down the street had that basketball hoop hanging crooked over the garage, somehow intact. The beige bungalow remained at the corner where someone's dog barked like the wind was a threat.
And next door, Noah's house still sat exactly where you left it. Staring at the grey trim, your eyes trailed to the window of his old bedroom, and you sucked in a sharp breath, closing the door of your car.
There was a period of time when the brunette practically lived at your house, and you his. If there was an extra plate at dinner, it was for Noah. If muddy shoes were abandoned by the back door, they belonged to Noah, too.
His fingerprints were in every summer you could remember, biking one-handed down the middle of the Crescent, shouting your name from the sidewalk to beckon you outside.
He had called you "Trees" for years after that one August you spent climbing the oak between your houses, impossible to coax down when your mother yelled that it was time to come inside.
And the older you got, when the nickname went from one of annoyance to one that made your heart skip, he had stopped being just Noah from next door.
He was once the boy throwing pebbles at your window because he was bored, and then somehow he appeared taller, his hair longer and curling at the bottom of his neck, with a voice that did not crack anymore when he laughed. His shoulders filled out, and his hands changed. He got tattoos he wasn't supposed to, and his smile got slower because he learned what it did to people when he grinned that way.
You hated that summer because Noah still let himself through the backyard gate, still stole food from your plate, and continued to push your shoulders when he was upset that you were right.
Until one day, his knee brushing yours beneath the table made your mind scatter; and suddenly, the sound of his bedroom window sliding open at night made your chest warm; and suddenly, when he leaned too close to look at something over your shoulder, you forgot every smart thing you had ever said in your life and became, frustratingly, another ordinary person with a beating heart.
A person whose heart raced so fast at the sight of another human.
It was humiliating. You had known him too long for your pulse to jump if he was too close to you. You had seen him cry over the ice cream truck not having his favourite flavour. Witnessed him spit on the ground like it was normal and lick his fingers disgustingly after eating a bowl of Cheetos.
Still, at seventeen, you had looked across your backyard one July night and realized it was too late.
Noah had been sitting on his deck steps with a can of beer in one hand, laughing at something Ruffilo said, his head tipped back, throat exposed to the summer sun. The light had caught on the edge of his jaw, and there had been fire pit smoke curling around his knees, the smell of citronella thick in the air; and you remembered watching with an aching heart and swirling stomach.
That feeling was the kind of realization that ruined everything, despite changing a single thing at all.
Years kept moving, nonetheless. Graduation came, then came again. People left, and people came back. The old friend group chat went quiet for months at a time before waking every July, because none of you were willing to get rid of it for old times' sake.
And yet Noah remained next door.
Every time you came home, a part of you checked for him without even thinking. Every time you stood beside your car, just as you did now with your duffel bag slipping down your shoulder, your eyes went straight to his old bedroom window.
The curtains were open, and your stomach tightened, butterflies making you sick.
It was a window. A normal, rectangular, grey-trimmed window on the second floor of a house you had seen nearly every day for over half of your life. Still, you couldn't help but stare, the glass reflecting the mid-morning sun and hiding whatever was behind it.
Adjusting your grip on the duffel bag, you turned, opening the back door of your car to grab your pillow- until a voice startled you from the street.
"You always did overpack."
When you turned, he was standing at the edge of your driveway with one hand tucked into the pocket of his sweat shorts, the other wrapped around a plastic Slurpee cup. His hair was shorter than the last time you saw him, dark and parted in the middle, though loose around his face. He wore an old black band T-shirt faded from many washes, and a silver chain rested against his collarbone. But it was the tattoos covering his arms that made your lips part.
Noah noticed. He still had the irritating ability to catch the exact moment you became nervous and then stood there looking pleased with himself.
The brunette's eyebrows lifted as he took his straw into his mouth. "You good, princess?"
Blinking, you dragged your eyes back to his face with all the dignity you could scrape together, ignoring the nickname that raised the hairs on your arm. "I'm fine."
"That was convincing." He teased.
Closing the door with your hip, you allowed your eyes to graze his limbs, hugging your pillow to your chest. "I'm just processing."
"My arms?"
"That, and many other things that don't involve you," You replied.
Noah's mouth twitched, which prickled the skin on the back of your neck. God, that mouth. He took another sip from his Slurpee, eyes glued to yours, and the straw made an obnoxious sound as it reached the bottom.
"You missed me," he said, taking a step toward you.
You laughed sharply and nodded towards the house. "I missed the peace and quiet. You just happen to live beside it."
Licking his lips, he got close enough and nudged you with his shoulder, pushing you towards the front door. "Liar. You can admit it. y'know. It's been over a year since I've seen you."
"Whatever, neighbourhood infestation." The tease left your mouth quickly, the slap of your flip-flops loud in your ears as you walked up the driveway.
"C'mon. I'm a national treasure." He replied.
"Nuisance," you sang, trying to coax your heart to slow its pace as you felt him walking close behind you.
"First love?"
Noah's words landed casually, tossed out as a joke, and your fingers tightened around your pillow.
His smile did not disappear as you turned to give him a sharp glare. Then he tilted his head toward your bag and said, "But seriously, how long are you staying? It looks like you packed for a divorce..." he paused, and continued.
"...How is Justin, anyway?"
You looked away first, swallowing the flush his previous jest caused. "I dunno. He's probably fine."
Noah's brows lifted as the two of you stepped onto the porch. "Probably?"
"Yes."
"That's usually not how people talk about their boyfriends." He said.
"Good thing he isn't one anymore, then." You sucked on your teeth, taking your key and unlocking the door.
Noah went quiet. His expression softened, mouth closing around the joke he would have made if this wasn't as serious, and his October eyes moved over your face.
"Oh," was all he said.
You hated the gentleness more than the teasing, frowning at his solemn features. "No. Don't do that."
"Do what? I literally said one word." He replied.
You shot him another look. "Yeah, and you said it with such sympathy."
"Well, should I say it like an asshole?" With a shrug of his shoulders, he followed you in. He then made a mockery of your detest, tossing out an 'oh' that dripped with sarcasm.
Another heavy sigh left your mouth as you kicked off your flip-flops, the cold tile pressed against your toes, and Noah shut the door behind him.
"How long ago?" He queried, watching you carefully. You adjusted the strap of your duffel and regretted giving your hands something to do, because Noah noticed that too.
"Like, a month," you said.
His gaze sharpened. "And you didn't tell me?"
Shoving your pillow against his chest, you began walking up the stairs. "Usually, when people are trying to get inside and unpack, they don't want to be interrogated by the boy next door and his gas station slurpee."
Noah caught the fabric, his hand closing around the edge before it could fall. You noticed the way his inked fingers sank into the fabric, and it took every ounce of willpower to drag your gaze away, to stop staring at the ink that was new.
"The boy next door," he repeated, toeing off his vans, one step behind you.
You swallowed, aware of his every move. "That is what you are."
His mouth curved, but it did not reach his eyes this time. "I thought I got promoted, in like at least eleventh grade."
"To what, exactly?" The carpet was soft against your feet as you made your way up the stairs. Reaching your bedroom, you gently pushed the door to the familiar smell of clean cotton and floral perfume.
"I don't know," he said. "You tell me."
Stopping just inside your bedroom, the two of you stood there for a moment, letting the question settle into the warm air.
Your room was exactly as you had left it, preserved because although you moved away, you hadn't fully moved out. The pale yellow curtains still hung over the window, and the mirror was still covered in sticker scraps you had attempted to peel off when you deemed yourself 'too old' for Tinkerbell. A row of glow-in-the-dark stars still clung to the ceiling, arranged in constellations that never matched the real ones in the sky.
Noah walked, pulling at your desk chair and taking a seat in his spot. You set your duffel on the bed and turned to face him, forcing your expression into something unimpressed.
"I think you got promoted from idiot to idiot with tattoos."
His grin grew wide as his bottom lip found its way between his teeth, letting the chair spin him methodically side to side. "Ohh, big day for me."
“Try not to let it get to your head.” With a smile, you lay back on your bed, letting the familiar fabric brush against your fingers.
Noah kept swaying in your desk chair, one foot pushing lightly against the floor every few seconds in a careless rhythm; the way he always tried to be. You did not notice the way his fingers tightened around the edge of the seat, or the way his eyes kept drifting to your duffel because he needed something else to look at.
You did not know, then, that he was nervous, too.
"Too late." Noah glanced down at his arms, then back at you, eyes bright with unbearable satisfaction. "You keep bringing them up."
"I brought them up once." The frown was evident from your tone, and you sat back up, arms behind you.
Noah hummed, head tilting to the side. "You've been home five minutes, and 85% of that has been staring at them."
Your face warmed. You hated him in the way a person hated the humidity, or a catchy song; because really, you could never actually hate him.
Without a word, his gaze moved from you to over the room. His eyes caught the photo still taped on your mirror, hidden behind a ribbon from a high school band award.
Noah stood, crossing the room before you could stop him and plucked the photo from the corner of the mirror.
"No," you said, standing and rushing towards him.
"Yes." He turned it toward himself, ignoring the way you said his name in protest. "Oh, this is gold."
"Put it down." You growled, now pressed against his chest as he held the picture above your head and out of reach, grinning as you tried to lunge for it.
"Absolutely not. Look at us." His smile was wider than wide, all teeth and tease as you pushed against his body, only for him to swat you away with his free arm.
It was a photo from the summer you were seventeen, taken in the backyard. Jolly was blurry in the background with Ruffilo, who was making an obscene gesture your mother had not noticed until after she printed the picture. Folio looked way too high, sitting dazed in a red camping chair, and there, in the middle of it, were you and Noah.
You were sitting on the grass, knees drawn up, cheeks flushed from the heat and cider you had snuck to drink.
Noah sat beside you, one arm braced behind your back, but not quite around you. The two of you were so close to touching that any reasonable person looking at the photo would have asked why neither of you had done something about the very obvious want evident in the frame.
As you pushed against him, Noah stared at the photo a little too long, the curve of his mouth softening before he could stop. The tease left his face, his breath gentle against your forehead. Your hand was still pressed to his chest, and neither of you moved.
His eyes dropped; the small motion somehow making your fingers want to remember the shape of him through the worn cotton, following the steady rise and fall of a breath he was holding back.
Noah's throat bobbed. Then, quieter, he asked, "Did he hurt you?"
You blinked up at him. "Justin?"
His jaw shifted. "Yeah."
The way he said it made your stomach tighten. "No," you said. "Not like that."
"Like what, then?" he asked.
After a pause, you pulled your hand from his chest, flexing your fingers quickly before taking a step back. "He was a long, slow waste of time."
His expression shifted, and you hated that too.
"It's fine. He wanted a girlfriend who fit like a side piece into his life and did everything for him. I wanted to stop feeling like I had to make myself smaller just to get through... anything."
Noah's mouth pressed into a line, and he stared at the photo for a moment before placing it back onto your mirror. "Sounds like an idiot."
You huffed, "He wasn't terrible."
"I didn't ask if he was terrible." He said, running a hand through his hair. You watched his every move, taking in the way his fingers glided through the strands.
"No, you asked if he hurt me."
His mouth twitched, and the carefulness did not leave his face. "You didn't tell me," he said. "I didn't know things ended between you."
You looked down at the carpet, remembering that the faint oval stain near the closet was from when Noah had knocked over an entire bottle of orange Fanta and tried to clean it with hand sanitizer.
"I didn't tell a lot of people."
"I'm not a lot of people."
There were a dozen things you could have said to that. You could have told him not to make himself sound important or accused him of being dramatic. But Noah was looking at you differently, now.
"No," you said quietly. "You're not."
His face shifted, and for a breath it was still, until he reached for you, tugging you into his arms.
The hug felt familiar and foreign. You had hugged Noah a hundred times before, but this time, things felt different. His arms came around you fully, one hand settling between your shoulder blades while the other curved low around your back; and it made your breath catch. He smelled like sun-warmed sap and laundry, and you stood there with your arms trapped awkwardly beneath you.
His chin brushed the top of your head, chest flush against your body. "Come here," he murmured.
You let the tension go, hands slipping around his waist, fingers curling into the back of his T-shirt. The second you held him back, Noah exhaled against your hair, the sound almost one of relief. The curtains shifted in the window, and you closed your eyes, letting your head rest against him while feeling the press of his heart thump loudly.
"You should've told me." Noah's thumb moved once against your back. And there was the hurt beneath the softness, again.
Tightening your fingers in his shirt, you mumbled. "I know."
"I would've answered." He said, squeezing you tighter.
Your throat clenched, and you squeezed his body back in response, breathing him in. "I know."
It was easy to say you had not called because calling would have made the breakup real. But maybe it was because calling Noah about another man leaving would have exposed something far more humiliating.
That truly, you didn't even care that it was over, because you had loved someone else all along.
Pulling back just enough to look at him, he refused to loosen his arms. "I didn't want to be pathetic."
His brows drew together. "Come on. You're the last thing from pathetic."
"I'm moving back into my childhood bedroom." The scoff left your lips, but Noah didn't tease.
"That's not pathetic." He said, pulling you back. "It is pretty on-brand, though."
You shoved at his chest again, but he still didn't let go, and you caught the brief drop of his gaze to your mouth. Your hands were still on his waist, his arms still around you, and for some reason, you felt the urge to count his breaths as his thumb shifted further up your spine.
"You okay?" He asked.
It was a simple question. So you did what you had always done with him when things got too close to serious, and ruined it. "I was until you made this a dumb, romantic moment."
His laugh broke low, his head dipping to hide it against your hair. "Aaand, there she is."
"Don't sound so relieved," you muttered.
"Well, I was worried."
"That I had matured? God forbid." You scoffed, "I could still surprise you, y'know."
"You always do, princess."
The nickname should not have touched you the way it did. It had been harmless in the driveway, though the way he said it with his arms around you felt different. His voice warmed nostalgia beneath your ribs, sinking the ache lower into the depths of your tummy- but thankfully, your phone buzzed on the bed.
Both of you looked toward it, and Noah slowly released you; though his hand lingered at your wrist for a moment too long before falling away.
Your screen lit up again, and your phone buzzed three more times.
"Popular," he murmured, earning him an eye-roll.
Noah reached for his Slurpee before sliding up beside you, his chest brushing your shoulder.
"You are physically incapable of minding your business." You muttered, and he only leaned closer, the straw of his drink tapping against your arm.
"This seems interesting." He shrugged. "I bet ten bucks it's the boys."
You picked up your phone before he could reach for it, angling the screen away from him purposefully, only for him to be right.
The old group chat had come alive once again.
Jolly: River tonight?
A second message followed immediately.
Ruffilo: We are twenty-five
Jolly: Thanks, Captain Obvious. That was not the question
Folio: I'm down after dinner with the fam. What time?
Jolly: Screw dinner with the fam.
Folio: I'm not telling my mother that
Ruffilo: Yeah, don't weaponize your abandonment issues against Folio's mom
Jolly: Wait. Is Y/N home yet?
Noah: 7 works
You turned your head slowly, watching the way Noah smiled around his straw as his thumb hovered above his screen.
"You're texting," you said blankly, and he snorted. "And you're literally standing beside me."
"Anyone ever tell you that you're just sooo observant?" Noah's shoulder brushed yours again.
You: Unfortunately.
Jolly: YESSSSSSSSSSSSS
Folio: Welcome back!!! :)))
Ruffilo: Welcome home <3 (I think?)
Jolly: Okay, yeah. The forest at 7. No excuses
Ruffilo: Bring snacks. Actual snacks. Not whatever Jolly thinks is food
Jolly: Chips are food if they are food-flavoured
Ruffilo: I'm talking about the time you dumped a jar of pickles into a Ziploc bag
Jolly: You people ate them
Folio: No, YOU ate them
A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it, and Noah looked down at you gently, fighting back a smile.
Little did you know, he wasn't smiling at your friends being idiots. He just couldn't help but grin at the sound he had been waiting to hear since seeing your car pull up in the driveway.
Jolly: Also, someone bring cider.
Ruffilo: Why don't you bring cider?
Jolly: I'm bringing vibes and a bag of pickles, apparently
Folio: Nobody wants your vibes
You: Or your pickles
Jolly: C'mon, don't offend my pickle like that
Noah's brows pulled together.
Noah: Bro, what?
Jolly: PSYCH, dw Y/N I know you don't want my pickle.
Ruffilo: She wants Noah's IMEANWHAT
Folio: For the love of God, I'll bring the cider.
You felt Noah go still beside you. For half a second, you yourself forgot how to breathe, eyes locked on the screen; until you were aware of every place he was close to you.
Making a strangled sound that might have been a laugh if it had not died of embarrassment halfway, Noah reached forward and plucked the phone neatly from your hand.
"Hey."
"Responding," he replied nonchalantly.
"Noah." His name was said with a warning, but he only smiled.
His thumbs moved quickly over the screen, and you lunged for the phone, but he lifted it above his head with infuriating ease. "Relax."
"Give it back."
"One second." He smiled wider, his inked thumbs moving quickly over the screen, grinning as you grabbed at his wrist.
Though it was too late, the message had been sent.
You: yeahhhhhh I do
Noah lowered the phone just enough for you to see the damage, his expression innocent except for the smug tilt of his lips. Your mouth fell apart in protest as you stared at the screen, then at him in disbelief. "You're fucking dead."
His face brightened as he snickered. "Okay, tinker bell stickers."
Fuming, you shot him a look that could kill, before groaning as your phone blew up.
Jolly: OH MY GOD
Ruffilo: I KNEW IT
Ruffilo: Noah is beside her, isn't he
Folio: He def typed that.
Jolly: HE TYPED THAT
Ruffilo: Bro cannot even let her confess by herself
You made a strangled sound and lunged again. Noah laughed, twisting away, but the room was small, and the edge of your bed caught the back of his knees. He dropped onto it with your phone still in his hand, grinning up at you because he had never once feared consequences in his entire life.
Climbing onto the mattress after him without thinking, you reached for the phone with a growl. "Noah, I am literally going to kill you."
"Careful," he sang, holding it over his head again, "This is how rumours start."
"Rumours? You just announced to the group chat that I want your dick, you asshole."
His smile flickered, and you realized that you were kneeling on your own bed, one hand braced beside his hip, the other stretched toward his wrist. Noah was leaning back on one elbow, your phone still raised above him with his shirt riding up just enough to show a narrow strip of inked skin, and the branded waistband of his briefs hung above the top of his shorts.
His eyes dropped to you, the grin fading from his face as he noticed the catch of your breath. He spoke lowly. "I didn't type dick."
"No," you said, and hated how thin your voice sounded. "Ruffilo implied it."
"Well, you clarified."
With another groan, you crawled onto the bed, leg between his as you reached for the device. The pulse of your heart thrummed hard in your throat the closer you got. Noah's arm stayed lifted above him, phone dangling loose from his fingers, his attention gone from the screen entirely.
His body had gone still beneath yours as he swallowed thickly, the pattern of his breath changing as you felt nothing but the bed and him beneath you. Noah's eyes moved over your face, trying to decide how much trouble he wanted to be in.
"Give me my phone," you demanded once more.
His mouth twitched again. "Ask nicely. What's the magic word?"
"You are about five seconds away from being smothered with my pillow pet."
"Kinky."
Your hand slipped against his bicep as he shifted out of reach. His skin was warm under your fingers, the ink on his disappearing beneath your palm; and for one second, you forgot why you had climbed onto the bed in the first place.
His gaze dropped to your hand around his as the group chat buzzed again, vibrating against his fingers.
"You gonna answer them?" he teased. You sighed in frustration and finally snatched the phone from his loosened hand.
"I'll just clarify later," you groaned, thigh brushing his.
Folio: OKAY, Forest. 7. Cider. Bikes. Clothes on. Please.
You stared at Folio's message, heat crawling up your neck so quickly you wanted to blame the July air; literally anything except the man sitting too close beside you.
"You heard him," he said, laughing. "Clothes stay-"
Turning your head slowly, you dared him to finish the sentence. "Don't."
His expression was innocent. "I didn't say anything."
The bed creaked beneath you as he sat up, scooting off until he stood before you. "I'll be waiting outside at seven."
You raised a brow. "Confident I'm coming?"
Noah paused in the doorway, his smile infuriating. "You always do. See ya, Trees." Then he disappeared down the hall, the room feeling all too quiet.
Trees. He hadn't called you that since you were teenagers, and the thought made a blush stain your neck. When you turned your head, you noticed what remained of his Slurpee sitting on your nightstand, the condensation leaving a ring of water beneath the plastic.
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