There had been nights where Noah had driven across town because you had mentioned, almost as an afterthought, that you were craving something. He’d insist that it was no bother. 

There had been mornings where you’d wake up tangled in Noah’s arms, his face buried in your neck, his voice still rough with sleep as he’d mumble that he didn’t want to get up. 

There were times where he’d drop everything for you. 

Times where Noah couldn’t stop reaching for you, like he needed to feel you to know that you were there. His hand would find yours under the table. His arm would slip around your waist when you passed him. His fingers would brush against your leg beneath the blanket as you watched a movie.

Always something. Always you. 

There were times when he’d look at you like you were his entire world. Like you’d hung the stars and the moon just for him. 

And, maybe, that was what made now feel so difficult. Because you remembered what it was like being someone’s first choice. How it felt being Noah’s first choice. 

You weren’t sure when it had changed. 

Maybe it hadn’t happened all at once. Maybe it had happened so slowly that you hadn’t really noticed until you were already standing in the kitchen, staring at a made table and a dinner he wouldn’t come home to. 

You waited a little while longer, wanting to give him a chance. You wanted to give him the opportunity to surprise you. So you waited an hour longer. Your own dinner had already gone cold. You glanced at your phone. 

No texts. 

No calls. 

No explanations. 

Whilst you reheated your plate in the microwave, you wrapped Noah’s dinner in aluminium foil before putting his plate in the fridge. You sat down at the table you had laid out for the two of you, not bothering to light the candles. The dinner Noah loved suddenly tasted like nothing. 

Hours passed. When you finally heard the front door open, it was half past ten in the evening. 

“Hello?” came his voice from the hallway. 

You didn’t answer him, simply flipping a page in the book you were clutching before taking another sip of your glass of wine. Soft steps could be heard as Noah made his way through the house, almost like he thought you were sleeping, not wanting to make any noise. You knew he’d passed the dining table, and you found yourself hoping that he’d notice the utensils and glass you had left out by his chair. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see him stopping as he spotted you. 

“Baby…?” 

You lifted your gaze from the book, letting it land on him. He gave you a small, tentative smile. Like he was testing the waters. 

“Your dinner is in the fridge.” 

“Oh,” he said. “I already ate.” 

You looked at him. Didn’t say a word. You didn’t even let your expression change, keeping your face completely neutral. Then you closed your book with a quiet snap and placed it on the coffee table. 

“Of course you did.” 

You stood. He watched you, clearly waiting for something else. Anger. An explosion. Anything. 

But you were determined not to give him anything. You simply walked past him, careful not to even let your shoulder brush against his. 

“Baby?” 

You didn’t answer. 

Making your way upstairs, you closed the door of the master bathroom behind you. Making sure to lock the door. 

You took your time. 

You washed your face. Went through your skincare routine slower than usual. Brushed your hair before slowly braiding it, starting over twice. Changed into your pajamas. Anything to make yourself busy. 

Anything that meant that you didn’t have to look at him yet. 

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment, making sure your eyes were dry. They weren’t. Only when you had managed to rearrange your face to an indifferent expression did you unlock the door. 

Noah was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up immediately when he heard the door opening. His eyes followed you as you crossed the room, watching as you quietly put your things away. 

“You’re angry with me.” 

You glanced at him. 

“What makes you think that?” 

He gave you a look. A small, almost tentative smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

“Because I know you, baby.”

Something about the softness in his voice made your heart ache. 

“Don’t do that, Noah.” 

His expression changed. 

“...Do what?” 

“Don’t put me last and then come home and try to be soft with me.” 

He frowned as he reached a hand out towards you. You stared at his hand for a moment before looking back at him. 

“Baby—”

“No.” 

His hand slowly fell back to his side. 

“I was at the studio. I lost track of time. I’m sorry.” 

You folded your arms across your chest. 

“And I’m sorry about dinner.” 

You let out a humorless laugh. 

“You really think this is about dinner, Noah?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“But you just apologized for dinner.” 

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. 

“I… I saw the table and— I’m trying to apologize.” 

“Then apologize for what happened.” 

“I’m sorry I got home late.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Hours late.” 

“I know.” 

“And you couldn’t call me? Couldn’t take five fucking seconds to send me a text?”

“I got caught up…” he said, trying to give you an apologetic smile. 

“You always get caught up.” 

Noah’s jaw tightened. 

“You know how it is,” he said, jaw tightening.

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly. “ I do.” 

“Then you know I didn’t do this on purpose.” 

“I know,” you said. You looked down, picking at the edge of your sleeve. 

“Then why are we fighting about this?”

“Because that’s almost the worst part.” 

Noah didn’t say anything, clasping his hands together. 

“It’s not the dinner. It’s not you coming home late.” 

You looked back up at him. 

“It’s that you always choose everything else first. The studio. Work. Whatever it is you’re doing. I’m —”

Your voice grew quieter, until it was scarcely more than a whisper. 

“And I’m just…” You swallowed. “I’m always the thing that can wait.” 

“I don’t—”

“No. You do. You keep doing it.” 

Noah stood abruptly. The sudden movement made you take half a step back. 

“Everything I do is for you. For us.” 

His voice had risen a bit, frustration finally breaking though the softness he had seemed so determinated to show. 

“That’s a very nice excuse, Noah.” 

His eyes narrowed. 

“It’s not an excuse.” 

“Then what is it?” 

It was his turn to laugh humorlessly. He ran both hands through his hair, turning away from you for a second before turning back. 

“It’s the truth.” 

“Then why couldn’t you fucking text me?” 

“I SAID IM SORRY!” 

The words came out way louder than he had intended. 

Silence filled the room.

Thick. 

Intrusive. 

Noah’s chest rose and fell as he stared at you. His expression changed slightly as he caught sight of yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, quieter this time. “Okay? I got caught up. I lost track of time. I’m sorry I’m not perfect.” 

You blinked, trying to ignore the way your eyes burned. Because you weren’t asking for perfection. You just wanted him to remember you. 

The blinking didn’t help. A single tear escaped your eye, trailing down your cheek. And then another one followed. And another one. Before you knew it, you were crying.  

The anger disappeared from his face. 

“Baby…” he almost whispered, taking a step towards you. 

You shook your head, wiping at your cheeks. 

“Don’t.” 

He took another small step before stopping himself, arms opening slightly. 

“Pretty girl. I’m so sorry.” 

You stared at him. At his open arms. At the arms that you knew would wrap so tightly around you, just like they’ve always done. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to be held. Or rather, you wished that you didn’t need to be. 

For a second, you didn’t move. You wanted to stay angry at him. You wanted to make him understand. Maybe you even wanted him to feel a little rejected too. But you just felt tired. So tired. 

So you went to him anyway. You let him wrap his arms around you. Let him press a kiss to your forehead. Let your tears fall freely. Let him cradle your face in both hands, wiping at your cheeks with his thumb. Let him promise that he’d do better. Again. 

And for a while, he did. 

Not perfectly, but better.

The next morning, he had made you both coffee before you woke up. He kissed your forehead before leaving for the studio, and promised that he’d be home for dinner. He even suggested that he’d pick something up from the Thai place you both really liked. And he did. 

The night after, his phone buzzed twice on the coffee table as you watched a movie together. He glanced at it, picked it up and set it down with the screen facing down and pulled you closer instead. 

“I’m busy,” he mumbled. 

You smiled up at him. 

“You’re not doing anything.”

He kissed the top of your head. 

“Exactly.” 

A week and a half later, on Friday, he texted you from the studio just as you were opening your laptop after lunch again. 

Noah: Do you have any plans for tonight? 

You stared at his message for a moment before answering. 

You: No. Why? 

Noah: Be ready at 6.

Noah: Wear something nice. 

You tilted your head a little, smiling despite yourself.

You: Why? 

Noah: Taking my girl out. 

He took you to dinner. A really nice one. 

A few days later, it was the movies. 

Noah remembered the snacks you liked. He held your hand or had one arm draped across your shoulders for the entire thing. Later, in the car home, he complained about the movie the whole way while you laughed at him. 

And he started reaching for you again. His hand found yours without thinking. His arm snaked around your waist when you stood beside him in the kitchen. A kiss pressed to your nose or temple as he walked by. 

Small things… Things that should not mean as much as they did. 

But they did. Because for a little while, you felt chosen again. 

And maybe, just maybe, that was why you didn’t notice straight away when it started fading again. Because there was no big moment. No argument. No conversation where he told you he was too busy. 

He just… stopped. 

The texts became less frequent. Dinner plans became a maybe. Movie nights became nights where he was too tired. His hand stopped finding yours as often. The little kisses as he passed became fewer. 

And then one night, you realised that you were sitting across from him at the dining table, telling him about something that had happened at work that day while he scrolled through his phone. 

You stopped talking. He didn’t notice. 

You could feel your stomach drop. 

But he had tried. Really. And that didn’t go unnoticed. 

So for a few weeks, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe his workload had picked up. Maybe he had a deadline coming up. Maybe there was a perfectly good reason for it. 

But that was the thing, though, wasn’t it? 

You didn’t need a perfectly good reason. You just wanted him to let you in. To tell you what was keeping him away. To make you feel like you were still worth coming home to. 

Noah barely made it three steps into the living room when he stopped. It was late. Too late. And he knew that perfectly well. There had just been this one vocal take that he couldn’t quite grasp. He had, to put it simply, lost track of time again. 

You were still on the couch. Still awake. Still waiting. 

Noah’s shoulders dropped slightly. 

“Baby, I know.” 

You looked up from your book. 

“It’s the seventh time.” 

“I know.” 

“The seventh time in less than two weeks.” 

He sighed, already knowing where this was going.

“I know.” 

You closed your book unnecessarily slowly, making a spectacle of it. You placed it on the table, taking your time to straighten it. 

“Out of those seven times, how many did you actually text me?” you asked. “How many times did you let me know that you were going to walk through that door in the middle of the night? That I’d be alone?” 

He groaned, dragging a long fingered hand across his face. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Once.” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Baby…” he said, voice softening. “I’m so sorry.” 

You tilted your head a little. 

“Are you?” 

His eyebrows knitted together. 

“Of course I am.” 

Neither of you said anything else for a moment. Then Noah walked over and sat down at the opposite end of the couch. You looked at the space between you. It wasn’t much. Two cushions. Maybe four feet. 

But suddenly, it felt like an ocean. 

“...Do you even want this anymore, Noah?” 

His head snapped towards you. 

“What the fuck? What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer the question.” 

Noah stared at you for a moment, his eyes narrowing. There was a twitch in his jaw.

“Of course I do.” 

“Then why doesn’t it feel like it?” you asked, picking at the throw pillow beside you. 

He let out a frustrated breath and fixed his gaze somewhere in the ceiling, rubbing his neck. 

“Because I’m busy?” 

“You’re always busy.” 

“I have work.” “I know you do. I do, too.” 

He turned back to you, hands falling to his sides.

“Then what the fuck do you want me to do?!” 

“I want you to remember that your girlfriend exists.”

“I come home to you every night.”

You shook your head. 

“That’s not the same thing.” 

He threw both hands out to his sides. 

“Then what is?” 

“I need to feel like I’m a priority.” “You are a priority.” 

“Then act like it!” you couldn’t help but to raise your voice. 

Noah’s gaze fixed on you, his nostrils flared slightly. 

“I do.” 

“No, Noah. You don’t.” 

He stood suddenly. 

“What do you want from me?!” 

His voice had risen too. 

You pushed yourself to your feet too, refusing to let him tower over you more than necessarily even though your heart was pounding.

“I want you to act like this relationship is still important to you!” 

“I give you everything I fucking have!”

He gestured sharply around the room. 

“I don’t want a damn house, Noah!” 

“Then what do you want?” 

You threw your hands up helplessly. Noah turned away from you, both hands going into his hair. 

“I’m fucking human, Y/N! I’m not perfect, okay?” he turned back to you. “I can’t be perfect.”

“I don’t want perfect.” 

“Then what?” 

“I want to feel like you fucking want me!” you spat, voice cracking. 

You felt the familiar burn behind your eyes. The second the first tear fell, you wiped at your cheek, angry at the tears that insisted on falling. 

Noah’s expression changed slightly. 

“You’re crying again.” 

You let out a shaky, humorless laugh, shaking your head a little. 

“I’m crying because I’m so fucking angry at you, Noah!” 

He went quiet. His chest fell and rose heavily now. He looked away for a second, jaw clenched tightly, before looking back at you. 

“Maybe you don’t want this anymore.” 

“...What?” 

“Maybe you should find someone else. Someone who can give you what you want.” 

His words seemed to hang between you. Hard and heavy.

Noah closed his eyes, rubbing one hand over them. 

“I didn’t mean that,” he said. 

You swallowed. 

“I know.” 

He took a small step towards you before stopping. 

“I didn’t. I don’t know why I said that.” 

“But you still said it.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. You stood at opposite ends of the couch, looking at each other. 

“What do you want from me?” he asked quietly. 

You looked at him through the slight blur or the tears still clinging to your lashes. 

“I want you to want me.” 

His eyes locked onto yours. 

“You want me to want you?” “Yes.” 

He crossed the distance between you. Slowly. He was giving you every opportunity to step away. You didn’t. He came to a stop right in front of you, towering over you. 

His hand came up to your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. 

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. 

You shook your head. 

“I’m still angry with you.” “I know.” “I mean it.” “I know, baby.” 

You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down. The kiss was nothing like the soft apologies from your last fight. 

It was angry. 

Desperate. 

Almost like neither of you knew what to do with everything you were feeling. 

Noah deepened the kiss, your teeth clashing together. His tongue brushed your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You let him in, his tongue finding yours. His hands left your face, sliding down the sides of your body, pulling you closer by your hips. In turn, you pressed yourself impossibly closer to him, one hand gripping his shoulder as the other nestled in his hair. You gave his hair a little tug, earning a soft groan from him. 

Pushing him forwards a little, the back of Noah’s legs hit the couch. He let himself fall down on it, pulling you with him without ever breaking the kiss. Your hands found the bottom of his shirt, impatiently tugging at it. Noah chuckled darkly as he allowed you to pull it over his head before mimicking your action and disposing of your shirt too. 

His hands found your hips, pressing you down harder where you straddled his lap. You rocked your hips against his, making his head fall back. You could already feel how hard he was underneath you. 

Noah looked up at you through almost black eyes. 

“And you still think I don't want you?” he breathed. “I don’t want anyone else.” 

One of his hands found their way underneath the hem of your pajama shorts, pressing two long digits to your core. His mouth latched itself to your neck as he slipped underneath your panties, running his fingers through your slick folds. 

“You’re fucking soaking, baby,” he chuckled. “What’s got you all hot and bothered?” 

The remark earned him a sharp tug on his dark hair. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you said through gritted teeth. 

“Noted.”

You lifted yourself up slightly, allowing him to shimmy his pants down a bit, freeing his hard length. The tip was a little red, already leaking precum. Noah didn’t bother to remove your tiny shorts or underwear, he simply pushed them to the side before lining himself up at your entrance. 

You lowered yourself slowly onto him, both of you catching the same breath. It had, to be honest, been a while. When he was buried in you to the hilt, you started to rock your hips over his. Noah groaned, letting his head fall back to rest against the cushion, watching you. 

You gripped his shoulders for support, putting up a relentless pace. You were still so angry at him, and wanted him to know. One of Noah's hands gripped your hip, the other made its way down to where you were connected as he started to thrust up into you. 

The feeling of him like this, buried so deep within you was overwhelming as it was. The added pressure to your clit, the small, fast circled he rubbed on it and the way he repeatedly hit that one spot as he thrusted up into you made you cry out. 

“Getting there baby?” he murmured. “Squeezing me so fucking tight.” 

You couldn’t even speak, so you simply threw your head back, an all but pornographic moan leaving your lips. It was almost embarrassing how fast you felt the heat building in your lower belly, how the coil inside was threatening to snap. Noah thrusted harder, rubbed your clit a little faster. Your vision blurred as your legs started to shake on either side of him. Your eyes rolled back as white hot pleasure rippled through your body, making you fall forwards against him. Noah kept rubbing those perfect circles and kept fucking up into you as you rode out your high. Your legs gave out, making you sink down completely around him. 

“I can’t…” you whimpered against the crook of his neck. 

“I’ve got you.” 

Noah simply grabbed both of your hips, holding you in place on top of you as his thrusts became sloppier. Moments later, you could feel his cock twitching inside of you, filling your insides with hot ropes of cum. 

The morning came quietly. You woke to the smell of coffee. For a moment, you stayed still with your eyes still closed, listening to the sounds coming from downstairs. After a while, you could hear Noah walking up the stairs. Then the mattress dipped beside you. A second later, you felt a kiss pressed to your forehead. 

“Good morning, baby.” 

You opened your eyes. 

Noah was already dressed, hair still slightly messy, a mug in his hand. 

“Made you coffee.” 

“Thank you,” you said, smiling sleepily. 

He leaned down, giving you a tender kiss. 

“I meant it, by the way.” 

“What?” He looked at you for a long moment. 

“What I said last night,” he said, pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re the only one I want.” 

He brushed his thumb over your cheek. 

“Only you.” 

And maybe he actually tried. It felt like it, at least. 

He sent you a picture from the studio one afternoon, something completely mundane that he knew you’d find funny. 

Noah: Thought you’d like this. 

You stopped in your tracks on the way to the office printer, grinning from ear to ear. 

A few days later, he came home with your favourite snacks without being asked. 

“I saw them and thought of you.” 

When you told him about your day, he actually listened. Asked questions. Remembered the little things you mentioned, asking you about them later. 

Every night when he knew he’d be working late, he called or sent you a text. And on the nights you were already asleep, he would gently wake you just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m home, baby.” 

Sometimes you barely managed a sleepy ‘okay’ before falling back asleep. 

But you always smiled. Because he was trying. 

And for a while, he really was. 

You let yourself believe him when he said he’d do better. Because maybe, this time he really would. 

Then came your fifth anniversary. You had been thinking about it for weeks. 

Not because you expected something extravagant. You didn’t need every surface in the house covered in flowers. Didn’t need some expensive piece of jewellery. 

You just wanted quality time with him. 

You’d bought him a small gift a few days before. It was nothing big or fancy. Just a funny mug that you’d seen in a shop that had made you think of him immediately. You had wrapped it yourself, storing it in a cupboard you knew he didn’t frequent. 

You had bought some cheese and good wine, happy that your anniversary happened to fall on a saturday. Noah had told you that he needed to finish the verse of a song, but that he’d make sure to come home in the afternoon. He’d wished you a happy anniversary that morning, kissing you so hard you swore you could still feel his lips against yours hours later. 

You got ready slowly, even though you didn’t know if he had planned anything or if you’d just stay home. You’d be happy with both and just wanted to look pretty for him. 

You curled your hair. Put on a little more makeup than usual. Sprayed yourself with the perfume he’d bought you a year ago. Put on the navy blue dress you knew he loved. 

You had lit the little mushroom shaped table lamp in the walk in closet as you got ready, music playing in the background. 

You checked your phone. 

Nothing. 

You smiled to yourself, maybe he really was planning something. Maybe he was going to surprise you. 

And then, again, you found yourself waiting for Noah. 

Before you knew it, seven became eight. 

Eight became nine. 

You checked your phone again. Still nothing. 

By ten, you had slipped out of your dress. Fifteen minutes later, you had wiped away your makeup and brushed the curls out of your hair. 

By eleven, the front door finally opened. 

Noah knew he was late. So, so, so late. 

“Baby?” he called as he stepped through the door. 

No answer. He frowned slightly, closing the door behind him. The house was quiet. Too quiet. 

He stepped inside, glancing into the living room. Empty. Turning back to hang his jacket up, he noticed that the light was still on in the dining room. And then he saw it. 

The little wrapped box on the table. 

Waiting. 

His stomach dropped. 

Noah walked closer, his eyes moved over the table. Two places had been set. Two empty wine glasses. Untouched candles. 

His breathing hitched in his chest. 

No. Fuck. 

Swallowing hard, Noah made his way up the stairs. The bedroom door was slightly open. So was the door to the walk in closet. A warm light spilled through the gap. It was the little mushroom lamp you loved so much. The one that was perched at the edge of your little dressing table. 

Your curling iron still sat on the table. Makeup was scattered around it, much more than usual. In the little trash can, he found cotton pads stained with makeup. Noah hid his face in his hands. How could he have been so stupid? 

He turned his attention to the bedroom. From where he stood, he could see your dress laying in a crumpled pile on the floor. The navy one. His favourite. 

Noah’s stomach twisted violently. 

Five years. 

Five fucking years. 

And he’d forgotten halfway through his day. Lost track of time. Again. 

“Fuck…” he whispered, almost inaudible. 

He wanted to hit something. Wanted to smash his head through the nearest wall. Instead, he just stood there. Staring at the evidence of everything you’d done for a night he’d hadn't even bothered to come home for. 

The gift.

The table. 

The makeup. 

The dress.

You’d waited for him. 

Deep inside, Noah knew that there was no coming back from this one. 

He found you asleep on your side of the bed, back turned against his side. For a moment, he just stood in the doorway. Noah swallowed hard. He peeled off his hoodie and jeans before he carefully climbed into bed behind you. 

He hesitated for a second before he reached for you. His arm slipped around your waist. Noah pulled you closer until your back rested against his chest. You didn’t move. He pressed his nose into your hair. 

He broke. 

His breathing hitched. Once. Then again. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks and into your hair. He held you tighter as he wept silently, pressing his body against yours as if he thought the physical closeness could convey how sorry he was to your sleeping form. As if holding you hard enough could somehow undo the last twelve hours. As if your unconscious mind would feel the kisses he pressed to the back of your head, and somehow manage to forgive him.

He didn’t know you were awake. Didn't know you felt every tear. Felt every kiss. 

And yet, you lay perfectly still. 

Because somewhere deep inside, just like Noah, you already knew. 

This was the end. 

The sun hadn’t fully risen when you untangled yourself from Noah's sleeping form, turning to face him. He was still asleep. For a moment, all you could see was the man you’d fallen in love with five years ago. The boy who would drop anything for you in a heartbeat.

You saw the man that couldn't seem to keep his hands off you, always reaching for you as if to make sure that you were still there. You always were. 

The man who looked at you as if you were his entire universe. 

You could still see him. Somehow, after everything, you could still see him. 

And maybe that was the cruelest part. The most painful part. 

Because you also saw every night you’d spent waiting. Every dinner he’d forgotten. Every unanswered text. Every broken promise of ‘I’ll do better’. Every time you had believed him. Every time he had wiped your tears, telling you that you were the prettiest girl in the world. Every time he’d made you feel chosen, only to make you feel forgotten again. 

You loved him. God, you loved him so much. 

But you were finally beginning to understand that loving someone didn’t mean you had to keep waiting for them to become the person they kept promising they would be. 

You got up and reached for the suitcase. For the first time in years, you chose yourself. 

“Baby?” 

You didn’t look up at him as you folded another shirt, placing it in the open suitcase on the floor. 

“What— what are you doing?” 

“I’m leaving.” 

He sat up immediately. 

“What?” 

“I’m leaving, Noah. I’ve had enough.” 

“No.” 

You pulled the zipper closed. He was out of bed before he’d even fully woken up. 

“Please don’t,” he said, moving towards you. “I’m so sorry, baby.” 

You pushed the suitcase up, reaching for the handle. He reached for your hand. He didn’t grab you. His fingers just closed gently around yours. 

You froze. 

He looked at you, his face draining of colour. 

“Please look at me.” 

You didn’t. 

“Baby, please.” 

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his. The look on his face almost broke you. He looked terrified. Pale. 

“Please don’t go.” 

His voice cracked as his eyes filled with tears. 

“Please don’t leave me. I love you so much, baby. I— please. I’m begging you.” 

He opened his arms, just like he’d done so many times in the past. 

“Please.” 

You simply stood there for a moment, not knowing where to look or what to do. 

Then he slowly stepped closer, like he was afraid that you’d bolt if he moved too quickly. His arms wrapped around you. 

You didn’t hug him back. 

And that was when his breathing truly hitched. 

“I can’t lose you,” he begged. “I need you.” 

“You don’t need me, Noah,” you said firmly. “You just need me not to leave.” 

He held you a little tighter. 

“What do you need from me? I’ll do anything, baby. Anything.” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“I needed you to ask me that months ago.” 

You gently pried his arms away from you, and he let you do it. That somehow hurt even more. 

“I can fix this.” 

“Noah—”

“I can. I swear to you, I can. I’ll cancel things. I’ll—”

“That’s not the point.” 

“Then tell me what the point is. Please.” 

“Noah,” you said gently. “You had months to figure that out. 

“Baby, please. I’m so sorry. Just— just tell me what I’ve done wrong. I’ll fix it.” 

You looked at him for a long moment, at the tears that stained his face. You didn’t want to cry. But of course, like they always did, your tears started to fall too. 

“I did.” 

He swallowed. 

“What?” 

“I told you.” “I know, but—” 

“I told you when I was angry. I told you when I was crying. I told you when I was calm. I told you in the car. I told you when I was lying beside you in our bed. I tol—” 

Your voice broke slightly as your eyes met his. You swallowed. 

“I told you until I stopped believing you would listen.” 

“But— but I love you.” 

You gave him a weak smile, gently cupping his face in one of your hands, wiping his cheek with your thumb. He leaned into the touch. 

“I love you too,” you said. “That’s the problem.” 

There had been a time when waiting for Noah never really felt like waiting.

Now, for the first time, Noah spent his days waiting for you to walk back through the front door. 

You never did. 

・┈・୨୧・┈・

Monday morning unfortunately came too soon. You spent the weekend in your own little bubble with Noah and before you knew it, you were getting dropped off at work again. You looked out the car window and sighed, then you felt Noah carefully take your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

“Have a good day, baby.” He said, and you turned to face him. 

“Thanks.” You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, “You too.” 

He looked at you carefully, noticing your expression. He didn’t say anything though, he knew you didn’t want to get out of bed this morning, he knew you were dreading going back to work after this weekend… 

But you opened the car door anyway, and stepped out onto the pavement. 

“See you at six.” 

“Bye, Noah.” You said before letting the door shut again, and lifting your bag onto your shoulder. 

Just looking at the front door of the cafe was enough for your headache to begin, but you stepped up to it and pushed it open, the bell above chiming. 

You headed straight for the staff room, but before you could even pass the first table, an unfamiliar voice called out,

“Morning!” 

You jumped out of your skin, your heart pounding as your hand raised to your chest. 

“Jesus…” You looked over, and there was someone standing behind the counter already. 

Oh yeah, Tom said the new guy was starting today. 

“Sorry.” The guy chuckled, “Didn’t mean to scare you. You must be y/n? I’m Cameron.” 

You gave him a tired smile, nodding your head, and as you were about to give him a blunt reply, you finally looked at him properly… fuck.

He was beautiful. He had messy, dirty blonde hair that almost made him look like a hotter Ross Lynch, gorgeous hazel eyes… and then your eyes betrayed you. The sight of those arms in his work t-shirt.

“Hey, y/n!” Tom grinned, “So you’ve met Cameron?”

“Uh-” 

“Great! I thought you could train him today!” 

You turned back to Cameron. 

“You’re not trained?”

He laughed, leaning casually against the counter with his arms- stop looking- folded over his chest. 

“I was a barista back in college. It’s been a few years, so I’m a little rusty,” he smiled, “But once somebody reminds me how it all works, I’m sure it’ll come back pretty quickly.” 

“Okay.” You cleared your throat, dragging your gaze back up to his face. “Well… hopefully I remember how it all works too. It’s been a long weekend.”

Tom snorted.

“Her rich and famous boyfriend took her to see Bring Me The Horizon-”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” You hissed, making Cameron chuckle. 

“I’ve never heard of them,” he shook his head, still smiling, “I’ve only ever been to one concert.” 

You raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah, who did you see?”

You expected him to say something like Arctic Monkeys, or Tame Impala. 

“Benson Boone.” He said proudly.

You almost snorted. Well, nobody's perfect. 

“Right!” You clapped your hands together. “First things first, put your apron on. They’re hanging up in the staff room, then I’ll show you the espresso machine.”

Cameron nodded obediently.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said before disappearing into the back.

The second the door swung shut behind him, Tom’s smirk grew even wider. 

“He’s cute, isn’t he?”

You stared at him.

“Tom…”

“He is! C’mon, he’s tall, has nice eyes, good hair-“

“In case you’re forgetting, I have a Noah.” You reminded him with your hands on your hips.

Tom chuckled, shaking his head. 

“You say that like he’s a breed of dog.”

“You know what I mean, Tom.” You groaned. 

“So you’re saying, if you didn’t have a Noah-”

“But I do.” You insisted, “So whatever workplace romance you think is gonna happen here isn’t happening.”

Tom just smirked and shrugged, looking down at the counter as he wiped it with a cloth. 

“Whatever you say!” 

… 

By the time lunchtime had rolled around, you realised Cameron wasn’t lying about having experience. You expected to spend the entire day explaining every little thing, but after the first hour he was finding things without asking, and making coffees that looked rather good for someone who claimed to be “rusty."

“Wow.” You smiled as he slid a latte across the counter for your inspection, and he grinned. 

“You see the heart?”

“I see it,” you nodded, “You’ll be competing with Tom over the best latte art.”

You didn’t quite realise how much of a difference another pair of hands would make, but for the first time during an afternoon rush, you weren’t darting between the counter, the espresso machine, tables and the sink feeling like your head was about to explode.

Cameron not only worked well, but fast. And he knew just what needed doing around the place- restocking cups when they were running low, wiping up milk spillages, rinsing cups and jugs to go in the dishwasher. 

At one point you got back from using the bathroom and realised he’d already restocked the entire pastry display in the time it took you to pee and wash your hands.

“I was gonna do that when I got back.” You told him, and he just shrugged. 

“Thought I’d save you a job.” 

And the two of you were actually getting on surprisingly well, when Tom’s eyes weren’t watching you. He was easy to talk to, and you enjoyed talking to him. You told him some of your favourite stories about this place, about your first day when you were a little scared of Tom at first, and about how you hated cleaning the blender because the lid always got stuck.

Then, when he watched it happen later, he just appeared beside you and popped the lid off easily, making you turn to look at him.

“How did you do that?”

He just smirked, looking very proud of himself. 

“Heh, told you I've got experience. Maybe I can teach you a thing or two.” 

You couldn’t help but smile, and Tom had clearly caught you, since you met his eyes and he mouthed Noah…

You immediately scowled at him and shook your head. 

The truth was, you didn’t think Cameron was flirting with you. You thought he was friendly, and outgoing. He’s like a ray of sunshine, a golden retriever, he's the kind of person who could probably make conversation with a brick wall. When he complimented your earrings, you just assumed he was observant. When he laughed at your very unfunny jokes, you assumed he was just being nice.

You had a Noah. You weren't looking for anything else. You didn’t want anything else. Cameron was just a guy you worked with- hell, you’ve only known him for a few hours!

The rest of the day passed surprisingly quickly, which of course it would do when you weren’t in survival mode. By five-fifty the cafe had emptied, the chairs were up on most of the tables, and the three of you were doing the usual closing routine.

Tom disappeared into the office to do paperwork, leaving you to supervise while Cameron swept the floor- since there was nothing left to do. 

“You made it through your first day.” You smiled, and Cameron kept sweeping. 

“Somehow.” He smirked. 

“You did better than I thought you would if I’m being honest.”

“Wow, nice to know you always had faith in me.”

“Shut up,” you scoffed, “I just didn’t expect you to know how to make a perfect cappuccino.” 

“Oh yeah?” He stopped sweeping to face you, narrowing his eyes, “I’m more than just muscles, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. 

Noah. 

You swallowed hard. Coming from Cameron, the name made you cringe a little, and you suddenly felt a little… weird. 

You tried not to let anything show, and instead you forced a chuckle, and took off your apron. 

“I’m just going to the bathroom.” You said, walking a little too quickly around the counter. 

Cameron, looking a little puzzled, just shrugged, before going back to sweeping the floor. 

The cafe was quiet now, the most peaceful it had been since opening. Tom was humming to himself in the staff room, you were trying to calm down in the bathroom, and Cameron suddenly looked up as the bell above the door jingled.

A tall man dressed in all black stepped inside. He had dark hair hid beneath his baseball cap, big tattooed arms on show thanks to the fitted tshirt he was wearing, and sunglasses on despite the fact it wouldn’t be long before the sun would set. 

“Sorry, dude, we’re closing up.”

Noah glanced around the empty cafe.

“Okay, good.”

Cameron frowned.

“What?”

Noah stepped further inside and took off his glasses, his eyes already searching the room.

“What do you want, man?” Cameron asked. 

“Is y/n done yet?”

Something in the question made Cameron’s posture change immediately. The friendliness disappeared, and his grip tightened on the broom handle.

“Why?”

Noah finally looked at him properly.

“...Excuse me?”

“Why are you asking for her?”

“Because I’m here to pick her up.”

Cameron didn’t move, he just tilted his head slightly. 

“You know her?”

Noah stared at him for a moment, clearly trying to work out whether this was a joke.

“Yes.”

“How?”

Up until this point Noah had been tired but relaxed. Now, he was starting to get irritated.

“How do you think?”

Cameron took a small step forward.

“Look, man, if you’re some weird customer who’s been hanging around waiting for her-”

That actually made Noah laugh out loud in disbelief.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Yes, I’m serious.”

From the bathroom, you could hear voices getting louder. Then you frowned… because that sounded like,

“Noah?”

You hurried out into the cafe, and the scene that greeted you made you stop dead. Cameron stood between Noah and the rest of the room, the broom held tight in his grip like a weapon.

Noah stood near the door with the expression of a man who was equally pissed off and confused. 

“What’s happening?” You asked suddenly. 

Both men looked at you simultaneously, but Cameron spoke first.

“Do you know this guy?”

Noah’s eyebrows shot up. This guy? You stared at Cameron, slowly nodding your head. 

“…Yes?”

He looked relieved.

“Oh. Thank god.” Then he pointed at Noah. “He came in asking for you and wouldn’t explain himself.”

Noah folded his arms, his tongue sweeping the inside of his cheek.

“I said I was picking her up.”

“You said you were looking for her!” Cameron looked back at you. “I thought he was a creep.”

Noah scoffed.

“A creep?”

You pressed your lips together, knowing this was either about to become a fight, or the funniest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Then Noah looked at you, his face softening the moment he met your eyes. 

“Baby, please tell this man who I am before I say something I shouldn’t.”

Cameron’s eyes widened.

“Oh. Baby?”

You let your eyes shut as you took in a slow, frustrated breath. 

“Cameron, this is Noah. My… uh, my Noah.”

The room was silent for a second, then Cameron slowly turned around to look at Noah then looked back at you again. 

“So what, this is your boyfriend who you insisted was not your boyfriend this morning?” Cameron scoffed. 

The air in the room changed, and you felt it the moment those words left his mouth. 

Noah had been irritated before, you’d seen it in Paris when he was dealing with work- but this was different. He went very still, and the softness that had appeared when he looked at you was gone again.

“You’re twisting it… that’s not what I meant.” You defended yourself. 

“Yes it is.” Cameron smirked, clearly proud of himself, “You were making it sound like you were single.”

Noah shook his head, extremely pissed off now. 

“That’s because I’m not her boyfriend.” He said, his eyes fixed on Cameron, “Not officially, anyway.” 

Cameron let out a short laugh, resting the broom steadily against the wall. 

“Wow, that doesn’t sound creepy at all, does it?”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut, and Noah’s expression didn’t change, but you saw his jaw flex.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Cameron.” Your voice was firmer now. “That’s enough.”

He held his hands up as though he was being perfectly reasonable.

“What? You don’t think anything about this guys is weird? Showing up at a closed cafe and asking for the only woman here by name? Claiming to not be your boyfriend yet, as if it’s going to happen and you’ve not got a choice. As your friend, I’m concerned-”

“Look, man, you have absolutely no idea what our relationship is like,” Noah said quietly. “So don’t start with me.”

Cameron folded his arms.

“Dude, I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying everything you're doing seems more and more alarming.”

At some point Tom had appeared by the staff room door, watching it all unfold, smirking to himself. Then Noah shook his head with a soft sigh.

“You know what?” He looked at you, not Cameron. “Come on, baby. It’s been a long day, let’s go home.”

“Wait.” Cameron’s head snapped up again, “You two live together?”

Noah was already reaching for your bag that you had ready by the door, and you hesitated before answering. 

“Yeah, at the moment.” 

Cameron’s face screwed up. 

“So you' moved in with a guy who says he're living with the guy who isn’t your boyfriend?”

“Cameron.” Your voice was suddenly a lot more stern than before, “Just drop it.” He looked at you, but the bitterness was there now, plain as day.

“I’m just trying to understand.”

“No, you’re not. You're trying to get a reaction.” You shook your head, then he gave a humourless laugh.

“Right. Because apparently I’m the bad guy for thinking this is weird.”

Noah set your bag back down on the table carefully, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentler than you were expecting. 

“Don’t start acting like you know everything when you know nothing.” He said simply, “She moved in with me because after coming home from a trip, the ceiling in her apartment collapsed.”

“What?” Cameron’s eyebrows raised. 

“I offered her somewhere safe to stay.” Noah held his gaze. “I offered her help when she needed it. I take her to work because I want to, I pick her up because I want to. Because I want to make sure she gets home safely. And the fact that you’ve turned this into something sinister says a lot more about you than it does about me.”

Everyone went completely silent. Cameron opened his mouth, then closed it again.

You’d never seen Noah like this. He wasn’t raising his voice, but there was an edge to him now, something protective and angry. He'd never been sexier. He stepped closer, not enough to be threatening but just enough that Cameron had to look up at him.

“I have spent weeks- months, even- making sure she feels safe, making sure she doesn’t have to worry about anything.” Noah said, “So forgive me if I don’t appreciate a man who met her this morning implying I’m a creep.”

Cameron swallowed.

“I didn’t know.” He said, quieter this time. 

“No,” Noah agreed. “You didn’t.”

You stared at him, your heart was beating way too fast. Part of you wanted to step between them, but another part was surprised by the warmth spreading through your chest at the way he was defending you, defending what the two of you were building.

Cameron looked away first.

“Fine,” he huffed. “I got the wrong idea.” 

Noah didn’t answer, and the silence stretched until Cameron finally looked back at you.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I genuinely thought I was looking out for you.” And that, at least, sounded honest. So you nodded your head. 

“I know.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Noah’s eyes as he spoke to him again,

“Sorry, man,” he added awkwardly. “I shouldn’t have said that stuff.”

Noah’s expression softened a little, surprised by the apology. 

“No, you shouldn’t.” He said, then added after a moment, “But I appreciate the fact you were concerned at first. I'm glad to see that if it weren't me that had walked in, you would've protected her.” 

Cameron nodded, then you turned to Noah with a smile. 

“Can we go home now?”

“Yeah,” he smiled softly, picking your bag back up, “Of course we can, sweetheart.”

As he guided you towards the door, Cameron called after you, his voice softer now.

“See you tomorrow.”

You paused.

“See you tomorrow.” You replied, then the bell jingled as Noah opened the door for you.

Cool evening air hit your face as you stepped out, and neither of you spoke until you reached the car. Then, just before he was about to reach for the passenger door, you caught his sleeve.

He looked down at you, his eyes soft.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Up close, you could still see the tension in his face.

“I could tell you were getting angry back in there.” You said, choosing your words carefully. He looked away briefly, then back at you.

“He called me a creep. He implied you weren’t safe with me.” His voice was quieter now. “That bothered me more than I expected.”

You stepped closer.

“I know.”

He searched your face.

“You don’t think that, do you?”

Your heart squeezed, making you frown.

“No, Noah.” You took his hand. “I have never felt safer with anyone in my life.”

The feeling in his chest eased at those words, and his shoulders dropped slightly. He brought your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles gently, the anger finally fading from his features. 

“Good,” he whispered. Then he smiled, tired and a little sheepish now. “And for the record, I don’t like your new barista.”

You laughed as you got into the car, taking your bag from him and putting it down by your feet. 

“He thought he was doing the right thing.” You said, and Noah shook his head. 

“Still don’t like him.” 

…

The next morning, you woke up tangled in Noah’s arms, your face pressed against his chest, one of his t-shirts bunched up around your waist. And for a few seconds, you forgot it was a weekday. You just laid there, snuggled up with him, not a care in the world-

Then your alarm started to beep. 

You groaned loudly and buried your face deeper into Noah’s chest.

“No...”

A sleepy laugh rumbled beneath your cheek.

“No what?” Noah asked as he reached over to stop the alarm.

“I’m not going to work.” You tightened your arms around him. “I quit.”

He stroked a hand slowly through your hair.

“That’s a little drastic, don’t you think?”

“I’m serious.” Your voice came out muffled against his skin. “I just want to stay here and cuddle you all day.”

You expected him to do what he usually did- kiss your forehead, remind you that work was important, and gently coax you out of bed. Instead, there was a pause, and you wondered if he'd actually consider it.

“You wanna stay here?” He asked, still combing his fingers through your hair. “…Okay.”

You blinked and lifted your head, wondering if this was some kind of joke.

“Okay?”

He smiled, still eyes still sleepy, and nodded his head. 

“You’re letting me stay home?”

“Mhm.”

You gave him a suspicious look, then asked,

“Why?”

He simply shrugged.

“Because you look comfy.”

You scoffed, shaking your head.

“That’s not the real reason.”

His smile grew a little.

“Well, we had a busy weekend, you didn’t get much of a chance to relax… and maybe I want cuddles too.”

You knew that wasn’t entirely the truth. Deep down, you knew that he didn’t want you spending another full day with Cameron. And to be honest… you didn’t care. You got cuddles!

With a smile, you rested your head on his chest again, and he wrapped both his arms around your waist, holding you even closer as you texted Tom to let him know you’re not coming in. 

“You smell nice.” He whispered into your hair.

“That’s the perfume you bought me in Paris.”

“Ah.” He smiled softly, “I thought so.”

You laughed quietly, put your phone down, then the two of you were silent again. For a while you both simply laid there listening to the rain. Noah’s fingers traced lazy circles against your back and shoulders, and every time you tried to sit up he tightened his hold.

“Nope. You’re staying here.”

You smiled against his chest as he pulled you back into him.

“You’re being so clingy.” You giggled, then he kisses the top of your head.

"I don't hear you complaining."

Eventually, after a while, he reached for his phone on the bedside table.

“What time is it?” You asked. 

“Just past nine.”

You groaned again.

“I’d normally be steaming milk right now and listening to Tom gushing over his 'hot personal trainer'.” 

Noah chuckled, then carefully set his phone back down, and looked at you properly. 

“Listen, baby.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve actually got a pretty busy day.”

Your smile softened.

“Oh… that’s okay.”

“I’m recording with a couple of friends in the studio all afternoon. I tried moving it to tomorrow, but Michael’s leaving town tonight. I don’t want you thinking I’m abandoning you after letting you stay home.”

You laughed softly, and traced the tip of your finger over the ink on his chest. 

“I’ll survive.”

He brushed his thumb across your cheek.

“I just want you to know you’re not trapped here while I work. You can do anything you want today.”

“Anything?”

“Yep,” he smiled, “Stay here if you want, in my bed or in the living room- my Xbox is down there, play any game you want, or if you want to download any then feel free. Or you can take my car out… go shopping, use my card, buy anything you want.” 

“I don’t need anything.” You chuckled. 

“Buy something anyway.” He smiled. “Or get your nails done, or your hair. Treat yourself, baby.”

You just looked at him for a moment, wondering how the hell you got so lucky, your smile growing. 

“You’re spoiling me.”

“Well, that’s kind of the arrangement.”

You smiled.

“And if I choose to stay in your bed all day?”

His expression softened again.

“Then I’ll be very happy to come back up here between takes and find you exactly where I left you.”

Your stomach fluttered.

“That sounds tempting…”

He leaned down and kissed your shoulder.

“Good.”

“But I think I’ll stay, drive nowhere. Spend none of your money.”

“Disappointing, but fine.”

“And cuddle you until you have to work.” You added with a little smirk.

Noah pulled you closer again, holding you tighter, clearly delighted with that answer.

“Now that,” he said, his lips brushing against your forehead, “Sounds like the perfect Tuesday.”

So for the next hour, while the rain fell softly outside and the rest of the city worked, you stayed exactly where you wanted to be- curled up in Noah’s arms, warm and sleepy, and secretly very pleased that his jealousy had earned you a day off.

…

You must’ve fallen asleep almost immediately after that conversation, because the next thing you knew, sunlight was spilling through the gaps in the curtains and the bed beside you was empty.

You blinked sleepily, reaching a hand across the mattress, but it met cold sheets. No Noah. 

For a second you felt a little disappointed, but then you remembered what he’d said about recording today. He was probably already downstairs in the studio with his friends. So you rolled onto your back and squinted at the clock on the bedside table.

1:07pm.

“Oh my god.”

You sat up abruptly, you never slept this late. You always felt guilty for sleeping past 10am even on your days off, feeling like you've wasted the day… 

So you got up and made your way to the bathroom. You showered slowly, letting the warm water wake you up properly. You were pretty quick, since you had already washed your hair last night, so when you got out you did your skincare then pulled on a comfortable outfit, and you felt like yourself again. 

When you finally checked your phone again, there were a couple messages from Noah, sent a few hours ago.

Noah: Recording started early, you fell asleep again, so I didn’t wake you. You looked comfy and cozy.

Noah: Have a good day baby. If you’re still up there when I take a break, I’m coming in for cuddles

Your tummy felt stupidly fuzzy and warm at his words, and you reread the last message a couple more times. A big smile spread across your face as you typed back:

You: I woke up 40 minutes ago, and just got out the shower. I’m about to go down for breakfast. I hope the recordings going well! 😙

You: I’ve never slept in so late before… 

He replied almost straight away, so you wondered just how busy he was

Noah: Good girl, I’m proud of you for sleeping in <3

Noah: Enjoy your day, baby.

You grinned at his reply before heading down the stairs and into the kitchen, where you made toast and coffee while the sound of music played quietly through the house- you assumed the studio door may have been left slightly open. 

It just felt strange, you thought about how a couple weeks ago, you were living in a shitty tiny apartment, and now you were making coffee in Noah Sebastian’s kitchen while he recorded music on the other side of the house. 

Life sure was bizarre. 

After eating, you considered curling up on the sofa with a book or going back up and watching TV in Noah’s bed… but then his words played in your mind again. Take my car into town, go shopping, use my card…

You looked towards the hallway where his keys hung on the little hook by the door. You bit your lip as you thought about it, then you pulled your phone out and messaged him again. 

You: I think I’ll actually take your car and go shopping :)

Noah: Which car?

You frowned at your phone before replying,

You: You have more than one? 

Noah: 😏

You: Well I was thinking about taking the one you use everyday…

Noah: That’s okay. You know where the keys are?

You: Yep :)

Noah: Drive safe sweetheart, text me when you get there

Noah: And if you see something pretty, don’t hesitate. Buy it

You: Yes sir 🫡

You smirked as you pressed send, then slipped on your shoes, grabbed his keys and your handbag, and headed outside. 

Noah’s black car sat gleaming in the driveway, looking far too expensive for you to be trusted with yet again. You wondered which other cars he had, since this was the only one you knew about… that was definitely something you’d have to ask about later. 

You climbed in carefully, set your bag down on the passenger seat, then adjusted the seat and mirrors, and took a steadying breath. You always felt nervous when driving someone else's car, and Noah's was no exception.

Twenty minutes later you were at the mall, pulling into the parking lot, feeling strangely giddy. First, you bought yourself a coffee, then wandered slowly through a couple stores, with no time limit and no one rushing you.

A jewellery shop caught your eye, and you bought a pretty bracelet. Then you headed into the bookstore, picking up a couple books that some customers had recommended to you. Then you spotted a boutique with a gorgeous dress displayed in the window, it looked like something Noah would absolutely lose his mind over if you wore it out one night. 

You paused outside it, and before you could push the door open, your phone buzzed.

Noah: How’s my girl doing?

You looked at the dress again and smiled.

You: Having fun with your credit card 🤭

Noah: That’s exactly what I want to hear

You smiled to yourself, then tucked your phone back into your pocket before stepping into the shop. You looked around for a moment, and this time you didn’t hesitate to pick up pieces that caught your eye, to imagine yourself wearing them. You ended up buying a couple pretty tops, and when you asked about the dress in the window they had unfortunately sold out of your size, but the lady told you to come back next week when they’re restocked. 

Next, you found yourself in the home store. You only meant to come in here for a quick look- famous last words. 

You walked slowly down each aisle, your attention being drawn in every direction. You smelled half the candles on one shelf, then picked up your two favourites and put them in your basket. You also picked up a blanket, along with a couple cute photo frames that you couldn’t leave behind, a little jewellery tray, and then you also reached for a couple lovely coffee mugs. 

Then, just after putting them in the basket, you stopped. Because in your mind, you were picturing these things at home.

Somewhere along the line, you had stopped thinking of it as just Noah’s house, now it felt like home. And you weren’t sure how you felt about that. 

You considered putting the items back, not wanting Noah to think that because you’re staying at his you have the right to decorate it how you want… but you wanted those things. So you told yourself you’d buy them anyway, and if he asks then you’ll say they’re for when you move back to your place- though you’d much rather find a new apartment than go back there. 

So you bought those items, then headed back to the car to dump the shopping bags off before continuing. You went and got lunch somewhere quiet and peaceful, a little cafe that you and Tom thought would be your rivals when they first opened- but judging by how busy it was during the time that’d be your afternoon rush, there is no competition. 

You let Noah know you were stopping for lunch, and even sent him a picture when your food arrived. 

Noah: That looks delicious, hope you enjoy <3

Noah: And buy yourself something sweet after. My treat x

So once you finished, you ordered two brownies and asked for them to be wrapped up, then you put them in your bag- one for you, and one for Noah. 

Next, you walked past a lingerie store. At first, you paid it no attention… then you paused, backtracked, and fifteen minutes later, you had a stack of satin and lace in your arms. There were a couple matching sets in different colours, and a pretty satin robe. 

As you tapped Noah’s card on the machine and the cashier folded everything into tissue paper, you imagined him finding the bag later and your cheeks warmed. You couldn’t wait to show these pieces for him… 

But just as you were leaving, your eye caught something pink and fluffy. Handcuffs? It was clearly in a section that was meant for things like halloween costumes or bachelorette parties, but it made you laugh to yourself. You picked them up with a smirk, and on the tag it read NOVELTY ITEM… but that’s exactly what you wanted them for, just to see Noah’s reaction when you surprise him with them one night. 

God, you could already picture his face. The raised eyebrow, the disbelieving laugh, the inevitable “Baby, what on earth are these?”

You turned back around, and paid for them, glad that a different cashier scanned them for you with a smile. 

“Fun night planned?”

You smiled innocently.

“I’m mostly buying them for the reaction.”

“I’m sure they’ll get one.” She chuckled. 

And after another hour of putting things on Noah’s card, your feet ached, so you decided to go back to the car for good this time. And as you sat down in the driver's seat, you sent Noah a text. 

You: On my way back now <3 

You: Are you out of the studio yet?

You waited a couple minutes, but there was no reply… so you guessed that was a no. 

… 

Twenty minutes later, you were back at Noah’s, dragging all the bags in from the car. When you were inside, you set all the bags down on the floor so you could hang Noah’s keys back up and take your shoes off, then your phone buzzed. 

Noah: Home safe? ❤️

You smiled as you replied. 

You: Yep :)

Then you picked your bags back up and made your way up the stairs and into the guest room. You set them all down on the bed, then you quickly went to put your hair up and get changed into something comfier. Then, bag by bag, you began unpacking. 

The books went on the bedside table, the new tops were folded into the drawer you’d been using, but the lingerie stayed hidden in tissue inside the pink bag for now. Then you reached for the home store bags.

You lined the candles up on the dresser, smiling to yourself. Then you placed the little jewellery tray down in front of it. You kept the photo frames in the bag to keep them safe… those, you could imagine in Noah’s home. Maybe in the living room, on one of the shelves…

Then you picked up the soft blanket and held it against your chest for a moment, already imagining it draped over the sofa downstairs. Then you frowned as you set it back down on the bed, remembering how you bought these things without even thinking. Without remembering that this house wasn’t yours, that you were a guest. That this was just temporary. 

The thought made your chest ache, a frown tugging on your lips… and as you brushed your fingers against the softness of the blanket, you heard footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, warm arms slid around your waist from behind.

“Hey.” You smiled, without even turning around to face him. 

Noah kissed the side of your head, his chest warm against your back.

“Hey, baby.” He said, his voice slightly raspy… you wondered if he’d been recording himself screaming? Maybe you should be glad you went out. “What did you get?”

“What didn’t I get?” You chuckled softly. 

His chin rested on your shoulder as he looked down at the bed.

“Oh wow.”

“This isn’t even all of it.” You pointed towards the nightstand, “I bought some books… and a couple new tops- I’ve put those away though.”

Then you looked towards the pink bag from the lingerie store and felt your cheeks warm. 

“And… I might’ve bought some new underwear.”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Did you now?”

“Mhm.” You nodded. 

“For me to see?” He smirked. 

“Maybe… if you’re lucky.” You teased, making him shake his head. “Oh, and I got some candles too. Smell these.” You said as you stepped towards the dresser. 

You handed one over to him, and he gave it a sniff before humming in approval. 

“Oh, these smell good.”

“I know.” You grinned, before reaching for the soft grey blanket on the bed again, “I got this too.”

His expression was gentle as he reached out, stroking the soft fabric with his calloused fingertips. 

“It’s so soft.” He smiled. 

“I know… I felt silly when I bought these things because I just-“ You hesitated, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “I forgot.”

He frowned slightly.

“Forgot what?”

You looked down at the blanket in your hands again. 

“That this isn’t my house.” You swallowed, forcing a small smile, “I got carried away and started buying things for the living room and then the kitchen, and then halfway through the store realised…” You laughed softly at yourself. “Your house isn’t my house.”

He stayed very quiet beside you. 

“So I’ll just keep it all packed away for now,” you continued quickly, turning the fold up the blanket before stuffing it into the closet. “Until I know what’s happening with my apartment, or until I find somewhere new to move. I’m sure you don’t want me and my candles taking over your house.”

The second the words left your mouth, Noah gently turned you around to face him.

“Hey.” His hands came up to hold your face. “Don’t say that.”

Your eyes lifted to meet his. 

“What?”

“You're not taking over. Right now, this is your home, just as much as it's mine.” The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache.

“Noah-”

“I mean it.” His thumbs brushed softly across your cheeks. “And if you did want to find a new place, that's fine, we’ll look together. I’ll come to viewings, I’ll help inspect the places, I’ll help you move, I’ll do whatever you need.”

He smiled gently, softly tilting your head to look up at him again when your eyes drifted away. 

“But I don’t mind you- or your candles- staying here at all.”

“You don’t?”

“Not even a little.” He shook his head. 

“I worried that maybe after a while I’d start to feel like I was in the way-“

“Baby, what have I told you about worrying and making assumptions?”

You gave him a tiny sheepish smile.

“That I’m very good at both.”

He huffed a laugh through his nose, but his hands stayed gentle against your face.

“You are. Which is why I’m going to help you with this one.” His thumbs brushed your cheeks once more before he stepped back slightly, “Look at me.”

You did, and his eyes were ever so gentle.

“Yes, this is my house.” He said softly. “And I’m telling you that I want you here. So you don’t need to decide for me whether you’re welcome, we’ve been over this before.”

You swallowed hard. 

“Okay.”

“Good girl.”

Warmth spread through your tummy, making your face soften, and he smiled when he saw it happen. 

“Now…” He glanced at the bags still scattered across the bed. “I’ve got some jobs for you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“You’re going to stop hiding things in the closet, and we’re gonna put these things where you want them.”

You hesitated for a moment chewing on your lip, and he tilted his head. 

“That wasn’t a suggestion, sweetheart.” He said, and the authority in his voice made you smiled despite yourself. 

“Okay.” You nodded your head.

He kissed your forehead before taking the blanket from the closet and unfolding it again.

“Now let’s put these things where they belong.” He said, draping the blanket over his arm, “C’mon.” 

You followed him downstairs carrying the candles while he carried the blanket and the bag that held the mugs and photo frames. He threw the blanket over the sofa, looking like it belonged there all along. He helped you organise the candles on the coffee table- but he couldn’t help but pick one up and smell it again. 

Then, in the kitchen, he unpacked the mugs you’d bought while you unwrapped the photo frames. 

“I don’t even have any photos to put in them, I’m not really sure why I bought them.” You chuckled as you lined them up on the counter.

“Because they look nice.” Noah smiled, glancing at them over his shoulder while he rinsed out the mugs, “Why don’t I print some photos for you?”

“I don’t have any worth printing.” You chuckled.

He was quiet for a moment as he dried the mugs with a towel before carefully placing them in the cupboard beside his own. 

“I do.”

He reached into his pocket for his phone, and after tapping a few times, he turned it around for you to see. You were slightly taken back when you looked at the screen- it was a picture of you from one of your nights out in Paris, the night he took you to dinner on the boat. You were in that pretty black dress, not looking at the camera, unaware he was even taking a photo. Then the next picture was of you again, this time in a red dress with the eiffel tower sparkling in the background. 

“Noah… I never knew you took these.” You said, your voice full of awe.

He shrugged, looking almost a little shy. 

“I couldn't help myself.” 

The next photo was the one of you both from the night he took you to the concert. The one where he was kissing your cheek. 

“I really like this one.” He said, and you nodded your head. 

“Me too…”

He looked over at you and smiled. 

“You looked really pretty that night.” He smirked. 

“So did you,” you chuckled, “...Especially with that mask on, and our vibrator on your-” 

“Okay, okay.” He laughed, and you could see the slight red tint in his cheeks. “C’mon, let's unpack the rest of your things.” 

You nodded.

Together, you headed back up the stairs and you started to move some more things. He made some space in his own closet, and hung up some of your clothes. He set your jewellery tray down on his dresser, and started to make space in one of the drawers for you. 

It felt more like home than your own home ever did, and Noah seemed to sense where your thoughts were drifting.

“Hey.”

You looked up from where you were standing by his bed, watching him put away your clothes. 

“I meant what I said earlier. If you want your own place, we’ll look. But there’s no pressure either way.” 

He wandered over, looked down at you and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“And if you decide you’d rather stay here a little longer…” A small smile tugged at his mouth, “…that’s okay too.”

You smiled back.

“You’re making it very hard to wanna be independent.” You teased.

“I’m trying to make it very hard for you to be homeless.” He chuckled, then his expression turned almost mischievous. “And, actually…”

You narrowed your eyes.

“What?”

“I have a proposal.” He sat on the edge of the bed and held out a hand for you. When you took it, he gently pulled you between his knees. “Even if you wanna find your own place... would you mind staying here just until I’m home from tour? I need someone to look after the house.”

You laughed immediately.

“You have security cameras.”

“Mm, but then who’ll keep my bed warm when I’m not there?”

You shook your head, still laughing.

“You require that from all your house sitters?”

“Only the pretty ones.” He smirked, making you shake your head.

“Anything else?”

He wrapped his arms around your waist and looked up at you with that soft, teasing smile.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Text me every night and tell me you miss me.”

You smirked, cupping his face. 

“Only if you tell me the same.” 

He kissed the inside of your wrist.

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

“What is?”

“You’re officially my house sitter.”

"Glad to know I meet your criteria." You laughed and leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose.

“Now c’mon,” he squeezed your waist, “You’ve got one last bag, haven’t you?”

Your stomach dropped. The last bag was the one you very deliberately left until the end for a reason. 

“Oh.” You laughed a little too brightly. “That one… don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.”

Noah immediately narrowed his eyes.

"Is that right?”

“It’s just… boring stuff, Noah.”

He smiled slowly as he stood up.

“Then you won’t mind me helping.”

You grabbed his hand, trying to steer him away from the hallway.

“You’ve already helped enough.” You said, but it was too late, he was already making his way to the guest room. Before you could stop him, he already picked up the bag.

“Noah.”

“Yes, baby?”

“That’s private.” You said, trying to sound serious, but the smile on your lips gave it away. 

When he noticed your smile, he took a peek inside the bag. On top of the tissue paper, as if it had been thrown in after all the rest… was something pink and fluffy. 

“They were a joke!” You made sure to say, trying to hold back your laughter as he held them up between you. 

“Oh, you sure about that?” He teased, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “You went shopping with my credit card and came home with these?”

“I wanted to see your face!”

“What reaction did you think I’d have?” He smirked. 

“Maybe laugh at them, say it’s ridiculous-” 

“You don’t know me at all, baby.” He smiled, dangling the cuffs on one finger, “Come here.”

“What are you-”

He reached out and took your hand, pulling you towards him. He glanced back at the bed, noticing the metal headboard and smiling. 

“This is the perfect place to test them out.” 

You folded your arms.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Noah-”

But he had his ways of making you do whatever he wanted, so a minute later you were sitting on the bed while Noah carefully fastened one cuff around your wrist. The fluffy trim tickled your skin, and you just couldn’t take it seriously. 

He slipped the other cuff through one of the bars of the metal headboard, then reached for your other wrist.

Click.

You looked up at your wrists, your head resting against the pillow, then you looked at him.

“I feel so stupid.” You laughed, tugging your wrists… but the headboard didn’t move. 

“Secure enough?” Noah grinned. 

You rolled your eyes.

“Can you take them off now?”

“Already?”

“They’ve made their point.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Fine.”

He reached into the little packet for the key and slid it into the lock…

But nothing happened.

“…Hm.” His smile faded.

You watched him try again. The key went in, it turned a little… then it stopped. 

“…Noah?”

“It’s okay.” He sounded too calm about it. He then tried the other cuff, but it was the same result again. 

You stared at him, but he was staring at your wrists. Then his eyes lowered to your face. 

“Well… that’s interesting.”

“What?”

“It appears…” He cleared his throat. “…the novelty item you bought may not have undergone quality testing.”

Your eyes widened.

“So you're saying the key doesn’t work?”

He jiggled it again, but nothing was happening. 

“Oh my god, Noah!” 

“It’s fine.”

“You’re not the one cuffed to the bed!” You cried, tugging your wrists. “Do you think if I pull hard enough they’ll break?”

“Mm,” he hummed, thinking about it, “Maybe. But if you break the bed, I’ll have an interesting story to explain to my ex-roommate if he ever wants it back.” 

“Oh my god.” You groaned, laughing at how ridiculous the situation was. “What are we gonna do?”

He sighed dramatically and reached for his phone.

“I’m gonna call Davis.” 

Your jaw dropped, and your eyes widened. 

“No, absolutely not.” You hissed, “Noah, put the phone down.” 

He looked at you with a smirk while unlocking his phone.

“Sweetheart, Davis has my tools.”

“I don’t care!”

“He borrowed them when he was putting shelves in his garage, I have nothing else that’d get you out of these.”

“I don’t care! I would rather stay handcuffed to this bed forever than meet one of your friends for the first time like this.”

“You’ll be fine, baby.” He tapped Davis’s contact, then pressed the call button. 

“Hey, whats up?” Davis answered after it called twice, sounding distracted.

“Hey. So, I got a weird question…”

“…How weird are we talking, dude?”

“Do you still have my bolt cutters? They were in the tool kit you borrowed.”

“Yeah.”

“Great!”

Davis was quiet for a second.

“...And why do you need them?” 

Noah hesitated, and you could see him trying to come up with something. 

“I’ve got a… uh, an emergency. Involving a bed… and metal…”

Davis laughed.

“Oh my god-“

“It’s not what you think.”

“Oh yeah? Want me to bring some lube too?” Davis snickered. 

“No, it's not-" Noah shook his head, burying his face in his hand. 

“Okay,” Davis laughed, “I’ll be on my way in five.”

Davis hung up and Noah lowered his phone. He tucked it back into his pocket, then sat beside you on the bed.

“He’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

...

And true to his word, fifteen minutes later a car door slammed outside, and you froze. 

“That must be him.” Noah said, standing back up. 

But then… you heard barking? 

“What was that?” You asked. 

Noah groaned, dragging a hand down his face. 

“That’ll be Max… Davis’s dog. Remember that time I showed you the photos-“

“Noah!!” Davis called out from downstairs, then you heard the front door slams shut, followed by more barking and then fast little footsteps skidding across the hardwood floor.

“Stay here.” Noah said as he patted your thigh. 

“Is not as if I can move, can I?” You scoffed as Noah disappeared down the hall. 

You heard a man laughing, a dog barking, and Noah saying, “Don’t let him upstairs,” which was immediately followed by both men shouting, “MAX, NO!”

Tiny paws thundered up the staircase, and your eyes widened. Before you know it, a small white dog burst into the room and launched himself on the bed, his tail wagging hard. 

“No, buddy, don’t jump on her-” Noah called out as he followed, but it was too late. 

Max was already enthusiastically licking your cheek, and you started laughing despite yourself. 

“Well, hello to you too.” You grinned. 

A second later Davis appeared in the doorway carrying a metal toolbox. Then he stopped dead, taking in the scene in front of him. 

You- the girl from Noah’s lockscreen- handcuffed to the headboard in Noah’s tshirt? Max bouncing around the bed, Noah trying to catch him. Davis slowly lowered the toolbox, a look of confusion and amusement spreading across his face. 

“…Oh!”

You shook your head. 

“Please don’t ask.” You said, making Davis laugh. 

“Noah, this is your bedroom emergency?”

“Well if I said Hi, Davis! I’ve got a girl handcuffed to my spare bed and the keys not working, come help me set her free! you’d probably call the police!” 

Davis laughed again, then spotted the cuffs around your wrist. 

“Ooh, nice colour. I had a pair of those once.” Davis smirked, setting the toolbox down on the bed. “Anyway, hi, I’m Davis.”

“…y/n.” You nodded, giving him a smile. 

“Lovely to finally meet you.”

“Under the circumstances?” You raised an eyebrow. 

He shrugged.

“Nah, I’ve seen weirder things in this house- before I come any closer... you have panties on, right?”

"Yes!" You laughed, blushing slightly.

Noah didn't say anything, but then Max finally seemed to settle, curling up beside your bare legs. Davis leaned over the bed and examined the cuffs. 

“So you’re stuck in these, huh?”

“Yep.” You said, before shooting Noah a look, “Thanks to him.”

Davis reached into the toolbox, chuckling to himself. 

“Don’t worry. These will get you out.” He pulled out a pair of small bolt cutters, making your eyes widen. 

“You’re using them?”

“Unless you’d prefer to stay here forever.”

Davis positioned the cutters carefully around the chain between the cuffs.

“It’s nowhere near your skin, it won’t hurt you, I promise. Ready?”

“No.”

“Excellent.”

Snip.

The chain snapped in half, and you could move your hands again. 

“I’m free.” You cheered. 

“Not yet,” Davis smiled as he gently took your wrist, looking at the pink fluff around them. “These still have to come off.”

You looked down at the still fastened cuff and groaned. Davis turned the cuff over in his hands, studying the tiny lock on it. 

“Hm.”

Your heart sank.

“What?”

“I’m just deciding whether to pick the lock or cut the whole thing.”

“Pick the lock sounds less scary.”

“Agreed.” Davis nodded. 

He rummaged through the toolbox and pulled out a tiny flat tool and a paperclip that must’ve been kept in there for situations like these.

Noah sat down beside you on the bed now you were sat up, Max now sprawled upside down across his lap receiving belly rubs.

“You okay, baby?” He asked. 

You leaned your head against his shoulder.

“I’m okay. Slightly humiliated, but I'll be fine.”

He kissed the top of your head, and before he could say anymore, Davis snorted without looking up from the lock.

“Noah’s been in worse situations, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, let’s not talk about that.” Noah chuckled, his arm wrapped around you. 

Davis didn’t press, because he was concentrating too hard, his tongue poking out slightly as he picked the lock until…

Click.

The cuff sprang open.

"Aha!"

“Oh thank god.” Noah let out a sigh of relief. 

“Nope, just Davis.” Davis smirked, taking the cuff before repeating the process on the other wrist. A few seconds later, the second cuff fell into his hand. “There you go.” 

You immediately flexed your hands, a wide grin spread across your face. 

“Thank you so much.”

Davis set the broken cuffs on the bed and looked between the two of you. 

“So what, is this just a regular Tuesday activity around here?” Davis grinned. 

Noah rubbed Max’s ears.

“It is now.”

"I might have to visit more often." Davis teased.

You buried your face in Noah’s shoulder.

“I’m never recovering from this.”

“Don’t be dramatic, baby.” Noah chuckled. 

Davis laughed and started packing his tools away.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, y/n. Will we be seeing you when the guys are on tour?” 

“You’re part of the band?” You asked, reaching over to rub Max’s tummy. 

“No, I’m just a friend. I do merch designs for the guys but I don’t play… not anymore.”

Max then wriggled free and trotted over to investigate the shopping bags, tail wagging.

“Max, no. Leave Noah’s lingerie alone.” Davis called, making you scoff and Noah’s head snapped up. 

“Excuse me?”

Davis looked up, a smirk on his face. 

“Is that your black bra?” 

As if it couldn't possibly get any worse.

“Dude!” Noah frowned, grabbing Max and carefully taking the bra strap out of his mouth, making Davis laugh. 

“Okay, well we better go back home… c’mon, Max.” 

You slid off the bed and followed them downstairs, relieved to be walking again. At the front door, Davis turned back to you with a warm smile.

“This guy,” he pointed at Noah, “He’s very fond of you, by the way.”

Noah groaned.

“Davis-“

“I’m serious. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time. I like the way he smiles around you.”

Your heart softened, and Davis clipped Max’s leash on while Noah looked a little embarrassed.

“Okay, I’m leaving now. See you guys.”

“Bye!” You and Noah both waved by the door, Davis grinned, gave you a little salute, and headed down to the end of Noah’s drive, out to his car with Max trotting beside him.

Then you stepped back inside and the door clicked shut behind you. You slowly turned to Noah, and he slowly turned to you.

“Next time you go shopping for handcuffs, I’m coming with you to quality check them.” 

A smirk played on your lips as you reached out, your hand pressed to his chest. 

“Oh yeah?”

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you close as though he couldn’t bear there being even a few inches between you.

“Oh yeah.” He nodded solemnly. “In fact, I think maybe tomorrow, if you can leave work early… we could go shopping for more toys, hm? I’m gonna be gone for a while, and I hate to think all you have is your hand keeping you company…”

"What about the vibrator?"

"No baby, that's coming with me."

・┈・୨୧・┈・

(i apologise for the benson boone comment, he was the first singer that came to mind) (and for the record, i may not be a fan of his, but for a few years i've felt rather maternal towards benson boone, so please no benson boone slander here)

Noah's a sneaky little shit when he wants to be, though, catching up to you in a matter of seconds. It's probably his giraffe legs.

"Oh pretty laaaaady," he sing-songs, reaching forward to grab your hand and spin you around to face him, and- goddammit.

He's grinning at you, all teeth and boyishness, a Modelo in one hand and your fingers in the other, swinging your joined hands back and forth. His soft cheeks are red, brown eyes just barely glazed over as he looks you up and down, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he meets your eyes.

It's unfair, is what it is.

"I know you know my name, Noah," you sigh, your free hand tugging at your shirt out of habit. He nods, the little ponytail up on his head springing around.

"I do, but what's the harm in calling the pretty girl pretty?"

It takes a real effort to stop from rolling your eyes, even though it would be mostly out of fondness. It's sweet, what he's saying, but he clearly doesn't understand that that's not how the world works. The friend of a friend who's never even really been asked on a date doesn't get to be flirted with by the lead singer who could have whoever he wanted. Not for real anyway.

"You really do know how to commit to a bit, don't you?" You ask, quirking one eyebrow and pretending the feeling of his skin on yours isn't a lightning strike.

He's made a habit of seeking you out at social functions, calling out 'hey pretty girl!' over everyone else's heads and making a beeline for you. It goes like this; he calls out for you, grabs your hand, calls you cute little pet names, then disappears into the crowd like it never happened. If it's a joke, which it must be, it's quite a long-running one. It could be a bet, you think to yourself, the guys all running odds on how long it takes for you to realize it was a joke the whole time.

The thought stings, quick and sharp, that your friends might do that to you, but if there's one thing you've learned to count on, it's the reality of knowing these kinds of interactions never carry their surface value.

A tiny line pops up between his eyebrows as they smush themselves together on his forehead, but right when he opens his mouth someone almost bumps into you. Noah acts quickly, letting your hand go and pulling you closer to him by your shoulders, almost pulling you straight into his chest, and you catch the scent of his fabric softener. Just like everyone else in the house he’s more than half drunk and definitely sweating, but he still smells like fresh laundry and settled cologne.

Bastard.

Once whoever almost bumped you scoots by, you think he’ll drop his hands and let you go on your way, but no. Instead he clasps his wrists together on the back of your neck and fiddles with your necklace, the cold from the beer can making you shiver.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, how’ve you been?” He asks, looking at you with a warm smile on his face like he genuinely cares about the answer.

You look up at him, sweet grin on his face, starting to gently sway the two of you back and forth, and maybe it’s the seltzer you’ve had, or maybe it’s just the way Noah is, but you answer him honestly.

“I’ve been alright, work is kicking my ass. It’s wedding season, so every late twenties woman in the tri-state area is showing me her Pinterest board and asking for ten thousand dollars worth of floral work for five hundred bucks.”

Noah snorts a laugh, only moving one hand to take a drink from the can. “I forgot Jolly told me you’re a florist. Is it cliché as fuck to ask your favorite flower?”

“It is, but we’re gonna ignore that. I love peonies.”

Noah looks down at where your arms lay by your hips, one hand leaving your neck and his fingers trailing along the peony tattooed on your arm.

“Second favorite?” He asks, a teasing smirk on his pretty face.

“Sunflowers.”

“Third favorite?”

A genuine laugh spills from your mouth, almost startling you. You can’t really remember the last time someone made you laugh like that, so out of the blue.

“Do you want my top five?”

Noah nods, his gaze focused on yours.

“Peonies, sunflowers, violets, ranunculus, and I know it’s a basic ass choice, but I do love a daisy.”

“Got it,” he says, nodding once like he’s committed the list to memory. “Now we get into the juicy stuff. Coffee or tea?”

The answer rolls off your tongue. “Tea, specifically an iced chai.”

“Books or movies?”

“Books always, the movie usually never does the book justice.”

“Candles or incense?”

The tips of his fingers are still tracing the tattoos on your arm, softly running along the lines of the leaves on the different flowers you’ve got in a half sleeve on your forearm. You know the answers to his questions, but it’s hard to focus on actually answering when he’s so close.

“Candles, I have far too many for just one person.”

You watch as his smile turns shark like, one eyebrow popping up. “Oh, so there is only one person? Interesting.”

This time you do roll your eyes, and he must know that you don’t really mean anything by it because his laugh rings out around you before he asks, “aquarium or museum?”

“Yes.”

His grin softens again, and both hands return to the back of your neck, adjusting your necklace so the clasp is in the right place.

“Last one. What’s a guy gotta do to get a shot with you, hm?”

You blink in surprise, looking up at him with your mouth half open. “There’s no way you mean that,” you say before you even have a chance to filter yourself.

“I do, actually. I-”

“Noah! We’re cutting the cake man, c’mon,” someone hollers out behind him, but he doesn’t look over his shoulder or move away. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and smiles at you instead.

“We should probably go be festive,” he says, and when you nod and go to pull away he stops you. “I do mean it. I don’t hang off of everyone like a koala, just you.”

“Sure, Noah,” you say, reaching up to pat him on the head, avoiding the cute little ponytail, before turning to the kitchen to sing Jolly happy birthday.

He’s a sweet guy, making an effort to come over and say hello when he sees you, and it’s nice of him to try and make you feel special. But you know, despite the shred of hope in the back of your brain, that you’ll never be what he wants.

A week later, when a text from an unknown number pops up, there’s a little tingle at the bottom of your spine.

Hey, pretty girl.

Oh, fuck.

You really couldn’t quite understand how Target chose to blast EDM music at 8:30 pm. Your pounding headache, paired with bloating, was a clear sign that you were due on your period in a few days, so that meant stacking up on snacks and junk food. 

Standing in front of the wine aisle, you cursed yourself for thinking that it was just a “I can hold all of my shop in my hands” kinda run. Sour patch kids, strawberries, a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, a box of tampons and the newest book you wanted to read all stacked one upon the other in your arms.  

The weight of every item was starting to get uncomfortable, but still, you couldn’t decide what to go for.  Red or white? Maybe it’s not even that, maybe you want beer or you don’t want alcohol at all. 

The last few weeks haven’t been the easiest. Meeting the three men did nothing if not stirring memories buried deep into your mind. Images, sensations, emotions that, you hoped, never  got to see the light of day. 

So you decided to treat yourself: sushi was on the way, comfy clothes, candles and an evening with just yourself and your new book, fresh off the shelves. 

Sushi? Sushi is fish so with fish, definitely a white wine. 

Happy with your choice and your ability to balance a glass bottle on your hand, you gingerly made your way to the self-checkouts. 

Rounding the corner, you immediately spotted a group of heavily tattooed men waiting in line for check - out, a couple of full carts nestled among a sea of black shirts, long hair and inked skin. 

If the tattoos didn’t give them away the second you laid eyes on them, the long, raven head of hair did. 

Nicholas. 

Beside him? A taller frame. His black tank top highlighted the two symmetrical flower tattoos on his shoulders. 

Noah. 

Your breath caught in your throat. The music suddenly became way louder, intruding on your eardrums. 

No, not tonight. 

You didn’t want to deal with a bunch of dumb, repetitive questions. 

You didn’t want to put on a fake smile, pretending that what happened a few years before was water under the bridge. 

Your reaction must’ve been very slow because a pair of eyes spotted you, giving you the chance to gauge the whole array of emotions flashing through his face. 

“Y/N?” a faint voice cut through the ringing in your ears. 

In your panicked state, you slid into the nearest aisle. 

Your hurried steps brought you in the middle of the corridor, trying to hide behind a couple. 

“Y/N?” That voice was louder and louder. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You took interest in whatever presented in front of you: baby food and baby wipes. 

That it’ll do, you thought as you took a glass container of apple and banana puree. 

“Y/N… There you are,” Folio’s voice cut through the background music.

“Folio!” you squeaked, “didn’t see you there.” Your hand instinctively tightened the grasp it had on the container. 

“It’s so nice to see you” the man exclaimed, opening his arms inviting you into a hug. 

There was a familiarity in that touch. Folio hugged the same way he did when you hung out with the boys. His arms placed securely on your back, his palm spread wide drawing soothing circles onto your middle. 

Yet, the smell that filled your nostrils differed a bit: the fresher, citrusy smell he sported as a teenager was replaced by a mix of tobacco and leather. 

“I’ve missed you” the man said, his voice muffled by your hair. 

Hearing those words felt like getting a crack in that perfect mask you created around them, around the wounds left by that relationship. 

For the first time, your muscles relaxed and gave you a chance to actually enjoy the proximity with him. You drew a deep breath, trying to calm down the burning sensation in your throat. 

“I’ve missed you too,” you whispered. 

Letting go of the hug, Folio spotted what you were holding. For a moment, you watched as his eyes darted quickly between the baby food and you before tentatively asking “Are congratulations in order?” 

“Oh no no no” you chuckled nervously as you put back the container on the shelf. “It is… it is for a friend of mine. New mum” you nodded, in an effort to look convincing.

“Oh I see” he stood there for a moment. His hand nervously reached the back of his neck, playing with the collar of his button up. 

“Well, it has been…” your attempt to say goodbye was cut short by Folio. 

“We’re all here Y/N. I feel like the others would be happy to say hello to you” his round eyes lit up. 

He gestured the direction he came from. 

There was a beat of silence before he incredulously added: "literally everyone” his brows now furrowed into a confused expression. 

You couldn’t help it. Seeing Folio just as confused as you were, took you back to the time Noah turned 18 and the group decided that the shop for the party must be completed with the whole crew around. 

So you did. 

You, Nicholas, Folio, Jolly, Noah, Davis and a few other friends tackled the nearest Walmart split into pairs. 

Each pair with a goal to achieve - food, drinks, cake, party supplies. 

The E.F.F. technique Folio called it. Efficiency, Fun, and Friendship. 

Although the group hated that acronym, the tradition, with the name, stuck. Every get together, every birthday, every major life event had to be opened with an E.F.F. session. 

“I see that the E.F.F. technique is still taking place after all those years” you said fighting the major lump in your throat. 

Folio’s eyes softened, “I guess you could say that” a sad smile tugged at his lips. 

“So, as I was saying” the man picked up where he left off “would you wanna say hi to the others?” 

“I’m not sure Nick, I…” your words died in your mouth. 

“Folio, dude, what’s taking you so long? The cashier’s almost done with…” the voice cut abruptly. 

You felt him, before even seeing him. You noticed how Folio instinctively straightened up, his jaw tensed, making him lose that hopeful and joyful expression. 

Noah was standing at the edge of the aisle. Under the cold, overhead neon lights of the shop, the changes that you saw through the window were more evident. 

His features didn’t hold onto a singular boyish softness that you knew. His fuller cheeks were now hollower, highlighting the sharp edges of his cheekbones and jaw. 

A few more wrinkles framed his face, especially around his mouth and between his brows. 

The boy who had been your best friend ever since childhood completely disappeared in favour of a grown man who you didn’t know, though. 

His dark irises locked into yours, yet maintaining an unreadable expression. 

You stood there completely frozen in your spot, somehow embarrassed to be caught with tampons in your hands. 

On his end, his gaze unashamedly took you in. It drifted from your face, to your tight jaw, your tensed lips, before noticing your oversized hoodie, your haphazardly bun with frizzy ends sticking out, arms filled with supplies. 

“Y/N” he stated dryly. 

Even his voice went through subtle changes. In a way it sounded deeper, rougher. Heavier than the airer voice you came into contact with. 

“Noah” you reciprocated attempting to mimic his tone, unfortunately resulting in a choked sound. 

Folio stood awkwardly between the two of you, his gaze darting frantically between your two frames. 

“I…” he started trying to lighten the sudden tension “I found her by the baby food” 

Noah didn’t look at his friend, instead, he kept his eyes fixed entirely on you, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark jeans. 

“Folio” Noah stated, still not breaking eye contact with you “Give us a second, man.” 

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Wednesday's lunches meant one thing only: book club time. 

A group of older ladies took interest in your own little shop and chose it as their habitual location for their book club meeting. They were quite a welcomed company because of the slower rhythm during the central parts of the day. 

Unfortunately today, something must’ve happened because the shop was packed. The usual quiet hum of the room was replaced by loud chattering that, on top of the soft music still playing, generated a cacophony of sounds that could be truly overwhelming. 

Noelle and you had barely time to sit down, or to go to the bathroom even. 

Among orders to go and to serve at the table, you managed to squeeze in a quick washing of the filters of the coffee machines. A very unique occurrence due to the high concentration of customers in such a small amount of time. 

Turning around to the cashier counter, you found two pairs of eyes staring at you. 

Shit. “What are you doing here?” 

“You’re welcoming us with too much enthusiasm” said Davis, clutching his chest, “you should calm down” you heard Jolly chuckle beside him. 

“No yeah, it’s just..” you started, wiping your hands clean onto the towel that was in between your apron strings.  “You know, a couple of days ago I saw Noah, but I didn’t expect that the whole crew would be here” you admitted, your voice so soft, it was almost lost crushed under the buzzing of the voices. 

By assessing their reactions, both men seemed taken aback from what you just confessed. 

“Didn’t Noah tell you?” you asked timidly.

Jolly promptly shook his head. 

Your heart sank. Oh, okay. 

“Well, he could certainly have, you know, and maybe..” Davis cut through. You heard a slight panic in his tone, his hands fidgeting nervously with his car keys “Maybe it’s us. That man has the ability to  speak for days and we need to tune him out, sometimes” he concluded not being able to look you in the face.  

Your features naturally assumed the chirpy, enthusiastic expression you reserved for your customers.

Because that’s all they were now. Just customers. 

“Of course” you chuckled. “What can I get started for you?” you warmly asked. 

Methodically, you started preparing their order. It was muscle memory at this point. Taking cups from the right corner of the counter, dosing the coffee, tamping it, pulling a shot and then topping it all off with foam if required. 

That little routine gave you the time to pull yourself together. 

What did you expect? After years of not talking to each other, that the one time you see him, not even interacting with him, he’s running to his friends to tell them? 

That’s called wishful thinking Y/N. 

“There you go, boys” you happily pushed the two cups on the counter. “That would be 4.80” 

The whole interaction was burdened with a question lingering on the tip of your tongue. 

Watching them getting out of the shop, awoke something in you. Leaving the very next client hanging, you sprinted out. 

“Wait!!” you yelled waving the towel in the air. 

Jolly was the first one to spot you. He had a foot already in the car, his hand gently resting on the car door. 

The midday sun was blaring onto you, your neck already coated in sweat, just added more to your discomfort. 

The moment you reached them, completely out of breath, the words that wanted to come out died in your throat. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, not really sure if that was for the little jog you had or for the anxiety. 

The more you looked at them, the more memories from that season of life made their way forcefully over your mind. 

A part of your life that you forced to be buried deep. A part that convinced yourself to have completely detached from your current daily life. 

Yet, in front of these two men, you regressed to that shy, awkward 15 year old who felt like she hung out with people way cooler than she was. 

Jolly and Davis stared back, waiting for the dam to finally break, for you to stop fighting with yourself and ask, tell, or just say whatever was on your mind. 

To their eyes, you didn’t change a bit. Of course you’ve gotten older, but the same softness and shyness that you sported so openly at 15 was now nestled behind your irises. 

You were a woman who just learnt how to conceal what she didn’t like about herself. 

An unceremonious honk of a car was the noise that snapped the three of you out of the freeze state you found yourselves in. 

You forced a very polite smile onto your face, the kind which didn’t reach your eyes. 

“Tell the others I said hi.” You swished your towel in a dismissive gesture, trying to hide the cringing feeling gnawing at your stomach. 

A sad smile tugged at Davis’ lips. “Will do” he simply stated before getting into the car, driving off. 

You stood there, on the pavement, watching as the car quickly became a little dot on the horizon. 

Throwing your towel on your shoulders, you rubbed  aggressively your hands onto your face, a strained sound ripped from your chest. 

Lifting your gaze, you found Noelle’s. She was looking at you through the same windowpane you spotted Noah a few days before, a small smile on her face. 

You could tell that she watched the whole interaction unfolding. 

With the smallest of gestures, her head tilted slightly, come back in. 

You took a moment to gather yourself, your fingers playing absentmindedly with the coarse texture of the apron. Clearing your throat, a fully fledged smile appeared on your face as you made your way towards your safe space.

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Soft music filled the room of your little coffee shop, the bright may sun was shining down  the building making the steel coffee machines reflect tiny speckles of light onto the wall. 

“Two espressos and a cappuccino with soy milk coming right up,” you exclaimed in response to Noelle, your coworker, shouting out the order. 

Humming along with the song, you noticed how your bracelet caught the sunshine casting coloured reflections onto the wall blending with the coffee machine ones. You made a mental note to jot down this little moment you had in your journal.

A small smile tugged at your lips. You were really trying to find beauty in the mundane. You felt like you needed it. 

Yet, romanticising your life felt harder than anticipated. Especially when your alarm clock goes off at 4 am in order to open your own shop at 6 every single day. It felt harder when you were submerged by deadlines and bills, while still trying to be a functioning adult taking care of your relationships. 

You couldn’t complain though. You wanted this. A simple life, where you carved your little corner, safe, cozy, warm, being able to share and offer people a place where they could just enjoy their food and beverages leaving worries and anxieties at the door. 

Picking up a white towel, wiping down the coffee machine, your eyes drifted casually onto the window looking out to the sunlit pavement. 

Weird, you thought, your regular still hadn’t showed up. You chuckled to yourself, remembering the last conversation you had with her about a work event she had to attend the night prior. Eventually she will have to pass by, she’d need all the caffeine. 

But then, your hand froze. A shadow had stopped just outside your window. 

Noah. 

He was standing on the sidewalk, hands comfortably placed in his pockets. Although the sunlight cast a slight glare onto the windowpane, his image was clear as day. 

He’d gotten taller, his frame broader, yet he still sported that slight slump in his shoulder. The one you kept on teasing him for. Though, looking at his face, your breath hitched in your throat. He changed. His once soft traits, hardened. His jaw was set, making his already straight nose line feel even sharper. 

His hair got shorter, falling messily around his face, covering part of his forehead.  

Your heart hammered against your ribs, heat crept behind your neck eliciting shivers down your spine. 

The noises of the coffee shop, Noelle’s laughter, the slight hubbub of clients, dialed down until a piercing ringing in your ears took over. 

You saw play by play the realization washing over him once he locked eyes with you. 

His jaw tensed a bit, making his muscles jump. However he didn’t move. He didn’t smile or waved. He just stood there, taking you in: your cream white apron securely tied to your waist, your frizzy hair tied up in a loose ponytail. 

For a second you noticed how his gaze lingered on the gold door handle of your shop. 

You dragged your eyes to the handle too. Its worn out colour was staring back at you. 

Flicking back to Noah, you found him still focused on the tiny object dividing you two. 

He took off his right hand agonizingly slow, fingers reaching for the door just to freeze just a few centimeters away.  

You completely stopped breathing. Staring back, the white towel tightly gripped between your hands, now squeezed completely into a ball, you waited for the bell above to chime in. 

That sound never came.

With a twitch of his hand, he retracted it, pushing it into his pocket again. 

You noticed how he visibly swallowed before averting his eyes from yours, lowering his head. He just stood there a bit more, his foot lightly playing with a cigarette butt tossed on the floor. 

Your mind screamed to run and open the door. You wanted to know how he was, how his new life was treating him. You hoped that, under that guarded look, there was still the Noah you got to be friends with. Your Noah. The one who kept teasing you about a stupid crush you developed for a friend of his. The one who showed up at your house unannounced and with a bag full of chinese take - out, “courtesy of Davis” he used to say with a grin plastered on his face. 

Yet, your body was frozen in its spot. Your knuckles were white by then, towel still crumpled up in your grip. Feet planted on the floor, completely nailed onto it, as if you were rooted to the spot. 

Helplessly you watched as Noah simply turned around, vanishing between the flow of people coming down the street. 

“Are you alright?” Noelle’s voice came like a distant call to the present moment. 

You swallowed the heavy lump in your throat, blinking away the tears that threatened to come out. 

Still looking outside the glass window you nodded “yeah..” you whispered. “I thought I saw somebody that I used to know."