#;marginalia

lots of work coming his way. lots of people having trouble getting in their homes and cars. lots of people struggling to get where they're supposed to be going. he was fucking exhausted by the end of it all, and he'd read enough in the past to know that stress can cause physical and mental issues. that strange sensation in his chest and the anxiousness that wouldn't go away could be explained. it didn't change the fact that noah was in dire need of some time off.

he'd told his boss just that. and, instead of responding the typical way any employer would when one of their good workers said they wanted to use some of their holiday time, the guy was excited for him. went on and on about his own last holiday to new york. hell, even suggested noah go there. he brushed it off with a laugh, a joke about how he doesn't get paid enough for that. another coworker, a gruff bloke who was never big on talking was gushing about how he'd always wanted to go, and pulled out a guidebook he'd been reading through about the area. noah took it at first just to be polite... but ended up consuming its contents like practically every other book.

then, a new worker came in. someone who was meant to help with all the extra business coming in and to fill in while noah was off. an american of all things. a new yorker, too. was nice enough but couldn't stop gabbing about how much he missed his home. annoying enough for others outside of noah to chime in with 'why the hell are you here, then?'

"you don't know what the world has out there for you, if you never leave to see other things."

he was laying it on a bit thick, wasn't he?

finally, the day came for noah's holiday and he was ready to go to spain, the most typical place for someone in england to go when they wanted to get away. he was a little worried that he was still feeling that restlessness, that vibration that seemed to go through nerve endings and maybe into his bones. his gp said it was nothing to worry about but noah put more stock in his own research than the nhs. but even his own reading hadn't given anything conclusive. it was fucking maddening. like many before him, he'd chose to go with ryanair because it was cost effective. he wouldn't be on the plane long enough to hate it too much, especially with reading to fill the time. it should go fine enough. he'd be there before he knew it, right?

delays, cancellations, rescheduling. it was already annoying on its own but with the unease noah had already been dealing with nonstop (that he couldn't explain, frustrating him further), he was becoming uncharacteristically careless. he didn't give a damn anymore, he just wanted to get out of the airport and on the way.

that's how he ended up on a flight that wasn't meant for seville. he didn't know that laguardia airport wasn't in spain. he just knew the frazzled gate agent said that things were being moved around but he would get to his right destination. he slept on the flight, missing all the attendant and pilot's announcements that would've given him any kind of clue.

and when he woke up on a plane that was landing in new york city? he should've been pissed. he should've been ready to curse out anyone and everyone that led to this confusion. but he somehow felt that churning sensation in his core ease with the revelation. that brought up more questions about him and what he was experiencing. and if there was one thing noah was going to do, it was chase after an absurd question to get to the bottom of it.

he went into his bag to see what he'd be living off of until he somehow was reunited with his luggage and found one hell of a stowaway: that guidebook to new york, folded back and creased on the first page talking about central park. fuck, had he forgotten to give that back? and, sure, he'd done a lot of looking on his phone about that area, but why was google maps defaulting his destination to central park? at some point coincidences stop being coincidences and need further explanation. as if he ever needed a reason to look for answers.

the first three and a half decades of noah's life were incredibly ordinary. born and raised in birmingham, he grew up without much to his name and never expected that to change. university wasn't in the cards, so he learned a trade. becoming a locksmith made sense for him, even if he didn't really know it at the time. he enjoyed taking apart the old lock mechanisms, figuring out how they fit together, why they weren't currently working, and then fixing it. or, you know, helping someone get in that lost their keys. something really satisfying in offering that last service for some reason. it wasn't a profession parents go and gloat to their friends about but it was good, honest, and paid the bills. and it kept his hands and mind busy.

even outside of work, noah never persued anything crazy. he worked enough to be comfortable- which includes having a small monthly fund for secondhand books. he had enough of a social life that he met with mates at the pub once a week or so. the only thing 'odd' about him would be that he was an avid reader. he had a reading comprehension level nine years older than the average when he was in primary school. carrying big books around had him as the butt of more than a few jokes growing up, but he didn't mind. years later, his shelves are still filled with everything from fantasy and science fiction to history, eningeering, and scientific journals. he was obsessed with knowing how the world worked.

obsessed is the correct word for it. despite his easygoing nature, noah has always had a bit of a flaw that he fails to really acknowledge. he hates not knowing things. if something doesn't make sense, he's not letting go of it until he can make it so. he won't leave it alone. friends have called him a little nuts for it and they're probably not entirely wrong. he also doesn't like losing, hates unanswered questions, and is practically incapable of walking away from either. things rarely stay a curiosity. they will always become a fixation until the answer is found.