Uh Huh Her?

Opening the heavy front door, you stepped into the threshold and finally let out the breath that was held for too long. Your bass guitar being harsh on your back for the past hour when you were on train and walking down the street home. Back hurt as fuck making you grunt with pain. Fuck, you hated carrying your bass yourself, should have had agreed to Noel’s offer to pick you up by the driver but you didn’t want to bother poor guy. “It’s his job, love, don’t worry, let him pick you up from the office or your back will kill you again.” – he’d say but you always declined. Stupid.

Door closed. 

Keys and AirPods case thrown into the small wicker bowl that you’d found somewhere at the flea market. A small orange backpack full of funny pins taken off your shoulders and put on the floor carefully.

You had made it. You were at home. Finally.

“Noel, I’m home” – you wanted to say loudly but instead it came out as a weak whisper. You were that exhausted from your day at the office and further music night there. 

It wasn’t even that late, maybe around 10-ish in the evening, so Noel was definitely still up waiting for you to come home. He always was after your office days (which was like once a week). You kicked your shoes off, put the furry orange (you kinda loved orange colour, yes) slippers on and proceeded to the kitchen area. 

Noel was standing with his back to you making cuppas sporting grey sweats and a navy blue sweatshirt . Apparently he heard that you came home but decided to make tea first since it was an obligatory ritual after office hours. He turned his head to you and smiled warmly with his crows feet showing around eyes (which you totally loved because it showed how much he’d smiled throughout his life). 

“Alright, love?” – he greeted with his Mancunian drawl – “m’sorry didn’t meet ya at the doors, I decided to make cuppas first, I know that ya need it now, yeah?”

You sat at the table feeling the tension from your back going away, it made you sign with relief, you hated when your back was aching, made you feel like a grandma (and you already had a grandpa as your boyfriend). The level of tiredness was so high that you hid your eyes in your palms exhaling loudly. 

“Darlin’, y’look proper exhausted.” – he put the mug full of builders tea (one sugar) in front of you and a tin of biscuits – “d’you wanna tell me how the day was or yer loss for words? How was yer music night? I know y’smashed it, y’worked so hard on it.”

Noel dropped himself on the chair next to you, his hand brushed through your hair, calming you down. His touch was gentle and healing. You hummed under his touch with your eyes still closed and smiled fondly. 

“Thanks for the tea, Noel.” – you made a sip of this divine drink and signed deeply – “that’s what I needed, your tea always helps me after that shitshow of an office day.” 

“And after non-office days it doesn’t help?” – oh that smug man. 

“Ugh, shut up, you know what I mean!” – you whined and slapped his thigh playfully which made him chuckle low, his Adam’s apple bobbled – “anyway, the office day. I was listening to music for the whole day, y’know, in me headphones, so I was off for the people around. We had a rehearsal during lunch and I was so angry afterwards, Noel!”

You made another sip of the tea feeling better and better. God, this man knew how to make a proper cuppa. Noel looked up from his mug and arched an eyebrow in question at you. 

“You know that we were planning on playing three songs?”

“Right…let me guess one of them didn’t know how to play’em? Been there, pain in the ass, this. I’m sorry, love.” – Noel’s facial features softened, he was looking almost apologetically at you. His hand went to your hair again, soothing it, tucking a strand behind your ear. – “Wait, was it the one who wanted to gift you a fuckin’ buckle cause he wanted to gift you sommat nice?”

“Bingo! God, don’t mention the fuckin’ buckle. He didn’t even know when to start in, can you fucking believe it? It’s like he didn’t even listen to the song, just played it around the tab, my god what a cunt! And there was so much of show off before.” – you were venting, almost hyperventilating,  you needed that because you knew that only your boyfriend could understand this pain. Noel was silent, absorbing what you were saying and sipping his tea with biscuit, his hand was on the back of your chair – “I was sitting there navigating them when they should start in, I was calm outside but inside I was fuming, we had so much time to prepare. But anyway, we played those songs, I loved it, and yes, I smashed them hard.”

“Since when you’ve become so sure and so smug, love?” – Noel looked like a very proud boyfriend here with his head tilted to the side and a smile that screamed “that’s my girl”. 

“Well, y’know, I learned from the best.” – you leaned in and kissed him lightly, feeling him smile against your lips. 

“Damn right you did.” – he whispered. If you weren’t that exhausted, Noel would probably take you on this very table where you were drinking cuppas now. – “how’s that colleague that hit on you, did she do something today?”

This made you groan. This married female colleague always had weird vibes towards you and you didn’t know how to react to this. A touch here, a smile there, a dance here, “zip up my dress” on the dancefloor, “share a fag with me” and so on. Most of it happened when you were tipsy but you were fully conscious and could understand that some weird shit was going on. Noel loved it. You were always exasperated about it and he was finding it funny saying “she just can’t resist you and your fucking charm and your knowledge, look at you, love!”. It was endearing at some point but annoying (not at him but at your colleague). 

“Oh god, don’t start, ‘course I have a story for today. Like every fucking week, waiting for it like an episode of a tv show, aye?”

He wiggled his eyebrows in anticipation. Wanker. 

“Oi, you’re really into it, perv?” – you snickered, hands holding a mug firmly. 

“What? It’s hot, she likes you, like proper likes you, I swear.”

“Perv.” – you muttered under your breath holding the smile back and he kept nodding like a bobblehead. Sometimes he was behaving like a kid which was very endearing coming from his hard exterior. He put his elbow on the table and leaned his face into a palm looking like a very attentive listener (he actually was). 

“Fiiine!” – you stopped, took a breath in and said the following as fast as you could – “She was telling me how she’d hold my beer with straw in when I’d be playing the set so I would drink it whenever I wanna. That’s the first thing.”

Noel pursed his lips leaving an “oooh” sound through them. And then a throaty laugh escaped from him, he was clearly enjoying this.

“Even I didn’t have such luxury and I was on the top of the world in the 90s, aye!” – you honestly wanted to smack his head now, you raised your hand just in playful warning and Noel put his hands up in mocking surrender, snorting.

You sipped your cuppa which was getting lukewarm and a bit unpleasant. Snapping the chocolate digestive into half you munched one yourself and gave the other half to Noel which he immediately chewed down like a hungry dog (did he have a tea today or not?). 

“And you know I brought those menthol fags with me, you know the ones we got on vacation?” – Noel made a face, he absolutely hated those, saying “menthol blocks the taste, shite” – “She was fascinated by them and wanted to try’em, so she was like ‘and after I’d hold yer beer you’d maybe ask me on a date and we’d smoke fags together’. Y’know I was loss for words, laughed it off and took off to the lounge to warm up.”

 Noel’s nose crunched in confusion and his thick eyebrows furrowed a bit which was a very natural reaction to this story. 

“’m sorry? I swear, luv, you work with fucking weirdos but honestly I love these stories, ridiculous, them.” 

The statement made you sign not with relief but with something else. You were glad that you were not the only one who thought the same. But still, you continued communicating with them from time to time. You didn’t know why. You told yourself that it was for the stories, cause your bestie loved it, Noel loved it. Maybe it was a sheer curiosity, like where would it all lead you? But you didn’t have an answer for that. 

“I know, Noel.” – you stated as a matter of fact – “we eventually went out altogether for a smoke, and she repeated the word “date” like 10 times. I decided to play along and I might have said…” – you trailed off and giggled – “‘oh yer going on a date with a rockstar!’. I dunno why I said it but her work bestie was fumin’?”

“Oh, yer my sweet rockstar, what makes me then if yer a rockstar?” – Noel teased you. 

“Dunno, some regular musician, I guess.” – you retorted with a shy smile and he opened his mouth in a feign insult.

Noel stood up and kissed the crown of your head, lingering. You snaked your arms around his small waist, inhaling his smell which was a bit of smoke, aftershave but mostly him. You felt tired but relieved after venting. Such moments of domesticity were worth all tours and recordings when Noel was away. He pressed his cheek against your head, hand petting your hair softly.

“Come on, rockstar, let’s hit the bed, I feel like yer gonna fall asleep on this very table, can’t let you do tha’.” – he said into your hair, squeezing your shoulder in an urge for you to stand up. You hummed against his belly not wanting to let go but the exhaustion took its toll on you today. You obeyed and Noel led you to the master bedroom, hand on the small of your back. 

You fetched your jammies and went to the bathroom, then turned around and peeked through a door smiling mischievously. You called Noel who was sitting on the bed looking at the wall. He turned his attention (or lack of) to you. 

“Forgot to mention. There was one colleague who fucking loved me playing If I Had A Gun, said she was humming first two lines all the way home.” 

Noel looked like a happy kid who got all the sweets in the world smiling widely. He loved when people really appreciated his stuff, not in a pretentious way just to please him. It made you beam with pride. 

“Oh, and one thing.” – you cleared your throat ready to drop the mic – “No one sang along to Wonderwall.” 

Noel’s face turned from happiness to disgust. 

“You really work with a bunch of cunts, love.”

You chuckled, nodded solemnly and returned to the bathroom. All was good, you were at home with a man who was waiting for you in bed. No need to panic.

_

It was in the middle of the night when it happened. You felt it through your witful sleep, the creeping panic coming in waves but you couldn’t wake up, couldn’t open your eyes and grip Noel’s hand which was around your waist. 

You thought your heart was going to give out cause it was pounding against your chest. Chest felt heavy like someone stomped on it with a huge boot. 

You forced your eyes to open adjusting to the darkness in the room. A little bit of moonlight was seeping through the curtains which illuminated the room slightly helping you to look around frantically. But still you were unfocused and disoriented with breath uneven. You clenched your eyes so hard you saw the white flashes. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” – you muttered. Mouth dry as sandpaper.

You felt paralyzed, only eyes were operating, frantically looking from one side of a room to another. Panic was washing over you and inside your head you were trying to tell yourself that everything was alright but it hardly helped. Too many racing thoughts to put together. 

Noel stirred in his sleep brushing his hand over waist. Perhaps he felt or somehow noticed your hitched breathing or whatever. Anyway he was wide awake at this stupid o’clock now. 

Noel prompted himself on his elbow examining you with his eyes, whilst you could only stare at him unable to move. 

“Hey-hey, yer alright.” – he moved closer to you and sat on his knees leaning in. His hand immediately cupped your cheek, gently forcing you to look at him. – “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

His thumb was rubbing tender circles, soothing you. A simple gesture calmed you a bit because at least you knew you weren’t alone (as the anxiety told you at first) now. You reached out to him, gripping his forearm slightly. 

“Ye, ye, I’m ‘ere, let’s breathe, okay, luv?” – you nodded. – “Okay, one, two, three, four, okay?” 

You inhaled with him whilst Noel was counting fingers indicating when you were going to hold your breath for another four seconds. Okay, now exhale on four, keep pushing and hold empty for four again. His hand never left your cheek grounding you. 

You did several rounds together until you felt anxiety was leaving you in small waves. Noel was steady and calm with you probably cause he had his own fair share of crippling panic attacks back in the 90s and he knew what to do (or not). 

“Fuckin’ hell, I hate when they come.” – you choked out, hand covered your forehead. 

Noel turned to his nightstand and grabbed glass of water. 

“‘ere, small sips.” – you lifted your head a bit just so it would be comfortable to drink. Noel pushed the glass towards your lips tilting it slightly (so you wouldn’t choke on it). – “Attagirl, small sips, yea.” 

Cold liquid was doing wonders to your throat and mouth, reviving your body and senses. You felt relief. 

You gestured that you'd had enough water and dropped back on your pillow suddenly feeling more tired than when you had come home last night. Setting the glass aside, Noel sat against the headboard next to you. 

“Come on.” – he tilted his head towards his lap, patting it in sign for you to sit there. 

You duly obliged and sat across his lap, one hand was loosely around his thick neck, nose burying into it. Noel was drawing wide circles on your back, his presence and smell were getting you back to reality. He put small lingering pecks on your head and then tucked it under his chin, hand going to your cheek. 

“I wonder…” – he trailed off. – “I wonder what triggers’em. Not the first time happening and always after these small parties with them at the office.”

You signed. Of course, you were thinking about the triggers. You thought maybe it’s the alcohol but it definitely wasn't because you didn’t feel those attacks after outings with your friends or Noel. Only after those gatherings at the office. With them. 

“Yeah, I thought about it, too.” – you murmured and looked up at him. – “You think it might be them, I mean being around them?”

“Might be, sure, there’s just a tendency that almost every time yer feeling fuckin’ anxious after partying with those cunts. Maybe your body tells you to stop communicating with them, you know?” – he suggested, hand never stopping on your back. 

“Guess you’re right. Can’t fuckin’ imagin’ the corporate retreat in September. Three days there, three.” – just the thought of being there made you anxious. You let out a heavy sign (you were signing a lot). 

“Well, I’m going with ya to this stupid fuckin’ retreat.” – he dropped it so casually like you were discussing groceries.  

You froze in his arms. What? You turned in his arms and confused as ever asked:

“What?” 

“What? Gonna irritate these cunts for three days, aye. Gonna show them The Chief.” – Noel smiled at you gently – “Besides…I’m sick worried about ya.” 

You buried your face in his chest and murmured softly:

“Thank you, Noel.”

He hummed in response and hugged you tight. You sat like that for some time until you yawned and felt you were getting sleepy again. Noel untangled himself from you, settling you on the pillow tenderly. He kissed your forehead and laid beside you on his side. 

“Night. Gonna make you pancakes tomorrow, your favourite.” – he wrapped his hand around your waist. 

“You’re gonna get us food poisoning, love.” – you snorted and he chuckled into your side. – “Night, love.”