Heaven isn´t quite what it seems

“Y/N. That’s five weeks away.” 

“Yeah… I know.” 

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

“I know.” 

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

You stared at the floor.

“I... I don't think so.”

“Think.”

You frowned.

“I could call in sick from work?”

A quiet huff of amusement escaped him.

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

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

“What’s that tapping sound?”

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

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

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

“Apparently.” 

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

You let out a small, incredulous laugh.

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

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

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

You could almost hear Nick stiffening through the phone. 

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

“Oh! Tell her hi from me.” 

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

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

The text came one and a half hours later. 

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

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

Nick R: But you are a mom… :) 

Nick R: Or, you will be soon. 

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

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

You: Could work, why Chicago? 

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

You: Yeah, okay. I’ll book a flight. 

Nick R: Good. 

Nick R: Scared? 

You: Shitless. 

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

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

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

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

The first few days weren't too bad.

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

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

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

"No?"

"You look different."

Your stomach dropped.

He wasn't looking at your hair.

He was looking at you.

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

“You keep drifting off.”

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

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

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

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

He studied you for another few seconds.

"Okay," he said eventually.

But he didn't sound convinced.

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

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

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

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

Noah: Yes I should’ve. 

Noah: You’re at home? 

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

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

You: Better now though, don’t worry! 

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

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

“Hi,” you said softly. 

“There she is.” 

And then, “Hold up. Look at this.” 

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

You audibly gasped. 

“Noah! Honey, that's… It’s huge!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“How could I forget?” 

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

“Maybe you needed it.” 

“Hey!” he interjected. 

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

His face softened. “Imagine this place full…” 

“Full of people there to see you guys.” 

He smiled. 

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

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

“Yeah. I’m feeling a bit better.” 

“Good.” 

“Have you eaten today?” he added. 

“Of course!” 

He didn’t look too convinced. 

“A real meal?” 

“...Yeah.” 

“Liar.” 

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

“You’re hopeless.” 

“Have you had any water today?” 

Now it was his turn to look a little guilty. 

“Yes…?” 

“Yes?” 

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

“Coffee is not water, Noah.” 

“It totally is!” 

“Noah.” 

“Fight me.” 

You sighed. “I wish I could.” 

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

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

Two days.

“You bet.” 

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

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

At 5 AM your phone buzzed. 

Nick R: Hi mom. 

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

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

Nick R: Because it's seven. 

You: Right… Time zones. 

Nick R: Did you sleep? 

You: Of course not. 

Nick R: Figured. Don’t skip breakfast. 

Nick R: I’m serious. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Noah: Good morning baby. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever been to Chicago before?”

“No, I haven’t.”

He smiled. 

"Business or vacation?” 

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

“Visiting someone.” 

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

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

“I’m sure I will.” 

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

You: I’ll be there in 10. 

He replied instantly. 

Nick R: I’ll meet you outside. 

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

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

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

“You look terrified,” he stated. 

“I am terrified.” 

“You’ve got this, mom.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“He stole half my sandwich during lunch.” 

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

“I’m scared.” 

“I know.” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Come on.” 

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

Nick stopped in front of a door. 1418. 

“This is him,” he stated. 

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

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

You closed your eyes and nodded. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a heartbeat, he simply looked at you.

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

“...Baby?”

---

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