#antimatter

"Noah-"

"Say it." He whispered, his hand now holding your jaw, desperately forcing you to look at him. "Say you don't want me... say it and I'll walk out that door, and you'll never have to see me again, if that's really what you want. But I need to hear you tell me, because it's looking a lot like that's not the truth... and if it's not-if you still feel the same way I do, you can pack your things and come home with me right now."

Your brows drew together, your lips parted and as you tried to compute what was happening.

"Tell me," he begged you, "What's it gonna be?"

You swallowed hard, your eyes darting between his like you were trying to figure out what the hell was going on, if he really meant what he said, but all you found was desperation.

You looked into the eyes of the boy you once fell in love with, the boy you once imagined you’d spend the rest of your life with, the boy who ruined your life. 

You couldn't do it. You couldn't go back to it. The fights, the arguments, the uncertainty.

You shook your head. 

“No…” you whispered, though your eyes began to burn with the tears you tried so desperately to hold back. “I can’t. I can’t go back, Noah, I…” 

You felt Noah’s hold on your jaw loosen, before his fingers slipped away completely. Slowly, he pulled his hand back and gave you a small nod. He stuffed his hand back into his pocket, and took in a deep breath. His expression fell to nothing, his face just went blank, emotionless.

“Okay... okay,” he nodded again, blinking back the tears in his own eyes. “If that’s what you want. If that’s what’ll make you happy… then I guess this… this is really goodbye.”

You couldn’t hold it back anymore, the tears began to spill. You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from taking it back, and you nodded, before reaching for the door handle. 

You pulled the door open, and stepped aside, but you couldn’t look at him. You knew the moment you looked into his eyes, you’d give in. You’d pull him down and crash your lips into his and never let him go again. But you couldn’t do that. You wouldn’t do that. 

You deserved better.

“Bye, Noah.” You forced out as you stared down at his shoes. 

“Remember what I said, okay? If you ever need anything, you know where I am, yeah?”

You nodded, and with that, he stepped out the door. 

You watched him walk out, you watched him press the button for the elevator, and you watched him disappear. You watched him walk away. You watched him leave for good. 

And despite everything inside you screaming to chase him, to call him back, to run to him… you stayed frozen at the open door, staring out at the hallway, feeling empty. Emotionless. 

You got undressed and stepped into the shower, emotionless. You got into bed, pulling the covers up and staring up at the ceiling, emotionless. 

You didn’t feel joy, you didn’t feel pain, you felt like a hollow shell. 

And you felt like that for a very long time. You caused a lot of concern at work, within your new friend group and with Mike, but whenever it was questioned, you'd laugh it off. You'd say it was nothing, knowing that was far from the truth. But there was no going back now, this was the life you chose.

A few months later, Mike proposed. You didn't know what to do. You knew in your heart it felt wrong, there was only one person you'd ever imagined marrying, and it wasn't Mike. But you said yes anyway, because what else were you to do?

But it all just felt wrong. Planning a wedding without Noah felt wrong. Sending the invites and leaving out the guys felt wrong. Picking out the dress and knowing it wouldn't be him waiting for you at the end of the aisle just made you feel sick.

But you never once backed out. You never once made it seem like you didn't want this. You let Mike think you were happy, you let him think he was the one, because he was a good guy... but a good guy just wasn't what you wanted.

The night before the wedding, you thought about calling Noah so many times. It'd been about a year since he asked you to leave with him, a year since you said no. But he was all you could think about as you laid in bed that night, replaying all the memories you had together- good and bad. The night you first met, the first kiss, the time he came over to your house and played you the demo that would become Bad Omens' very first song. But also the first time he cheated, the way he denied it but had no idea you actually caught him, and your frist ever argument.

You didn't know how long you were laying there for, trying to sleep, but eventually your eyes fell shut and you drifted off.

But instead of dreaming of your soon to be husband, or the day ahead of you, you dreamt of the boy you fell in love with all those years ago. The shy, nervous boy who hid behind his hair, who blushed whenever you looked in his direction.

You dreamt of Noah.

…

Some summer night, around 2011

Your parents thought their daughter was sleeping, tucked safely in her bed. They had no idea you were stepping off the bus three towns over, dressed in a pair of grey denim shorts, frayed at the hem, fishnet tights, a black lace cami with your boyfriend's flannel shirt over the top. 

You glanced down at the cracked screen of your iphone 4, double checking the time and address as you stepped into the bar, shoving the phone back into your pocket and pulling out your fake ID. 

The bartenders here must know you’re underage, but they never seemed to care. You still handed money over, asking for a beer, and when they checked your ID they’d always shoot you a sideways glance… but handed you a bottle anyway. They would then continue to watch as you took a sip, trying not to pull a face at the horrible taste. You hated beer, but you’d never let anybody else know that. 

That’s when you scanned the room, and spotted Ben, your best friend. It was his band that you came along to support tonight. He was setting up his drum kit on the makeshift “stage”, and when he spotted you he shot you a toothy grin, mouthing you made it!!

Then after a little while, the band started to play. You watched from the side, by the bar, ignoring the way your phone kept vibrating in your pocket. 

The songs were… definitely noise. It was what was expected from a bunch of teenagers who grew up on bands like linkin park and slipknot. You watched Ben with a proud smile, until something else caught your attention. Someone else caught your attention. 

Their new guitarist. 

Long brown hair fell over his face, he was the tallest one there, but he still looked younger than the others, and less sure of himself, but the second he played that first riff, it didn’t matter. Because woah… he was good.

You took another sip of your beer, trying not to grimace as you watched him. He didn’t notice you at first, he was too focused on keeping in time, on making sure he didn’t fuck anything up during his first show. But eventually his eyes lifted, and for the briefest second, like the universe had meant for it to happen, you made eye contact.

You smirked around the bottle as he quickly averted his gaze, his face flushing a warm pink. Neither of you knew each other's names, he didn’t know you were already taken, he only knew that you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen before. 

That one quick glance may have just been the very moment Noah Sebastian fell in love with you. 

By the time the set ended, your beer was warm in your hand and still over half full, but you didn’t care. Ben waved you over, using his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face as you approached, smiling wide. 

“So… were we sick or what?”

“You guys get better every time I see you,” you smiled, your eyes drifting back over to the new guy, “So… who’s the new guitar player?”

“Oh, that’s Noah,” Ben waved him over, “Yo Noah! This is y/n, my best friend, and y/n this is Noah!” 

Noah’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting like he’d forgotten how to talk.

“Hi.” You said with a soft smile, “You were great tonight, better than these guys’ last guitarist.” 

“Oh, uh… th-thanks.” He swallowed, shifting on his feet awkwardly. 

He didn’t seem like all the other boys you knew. He didn’t seem cocky or loud or annoying. He was shy, nervous… and for some reason that made your chest feel warm.

Before you could say anything to tease him, your phone buzzed in your pocket again, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was, but you pulled it out anyway. The cracked screen showed a picture of you and your boyfriend kissing as you lockscreen, and a message popped up from a contact saved as babe <3 asking Where the hell are you? 

Noah saw it, and despite not even knowing you for five minutes, something inside him sank… 

But you didn’t reply. You just tucked your phone away again just in time for Ben to excuse himself, telling the both of you how he had to start taking his kit apart. Leaving you and Noah standing alone...

“Do you like beer?” You asked, glancing down at your bottle. 

He hesitated, then nodded. 

“Uh, yeah.”

“Do you want it?” You asked with a smile as you held it out to him, “It’s a little warm now. Don’t tell anyone else, but I hate this shit.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He smiled, his fingers brushing yours as he took it with a soft nod. 

“Do you, uh… wanna go outside? I don’t feel too good, I can’t tell if it’s because of the beer or how warm it is in here.” You said as you fanned yourself with your hand, but he nodded and followed you out of the building.

The air outside was still rather warm, but it felt much better than it did inside. You sat on the low brick wall by the parking lot, swinging your legs whilst Noah stood awkwardly beside you, one hand on the bottle, the other shoved into his pocket, looking like he wasn’t sure if he should even be out here with you.

You tilted your head, studying him in the yellow glow of the streetlight behind you.  

“So… how old are you, anyway? You look younger than the rest of the guys.”

He hesitated, like maybe you’d laugh. 

“Sixteen.”

“No way!” Your eyes widened. “Me too.”

His mouth twitched into the smallest smile, nerves still written all over his face.

“I’ve never seen you at school before.” You said, watching one of the cars as they left the parking lot. 

“Yeah… I, uh, I dropped out.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes fixed on the ground. “School just wasn’t really working out for me.”

"Hm." You raised a brow. “So now you’re just, what? A rockstar?”

He laughed softly under his breath, shaking his head. 

“Hardly.”

You smiled at him, about to push the teasing further, but then your phone buzzed in your pocket again. With a huff, you pulled it out.

Babe <3: I know you aren’t at home. Where the fuck are you? Why aren’t you answering me?

You stared at it for a moment, then turned the screen down and shoved it back into your pocket.

Noah had seen it though. He hesitated, then glanced at you, his voice quiet and careful. 

“…He seems concerned. Why are you ignoring him?”

You shrugged, staring down at the pavement. 

“Harry? He’s just so clingy. He always has to know where I am, what I’m doing, who I’m with. It’s exhausting. It’s like… he can do whatever he wants, and not have to tell me, but I can’t do anything without him having to know my every move.”

Noah frowned, his chest tightening at your words. He sat down beside you on the wall, sighing as he looked into the distance. 

“That doesn’t sound clingy. That sounds controlling.”

Your brows knit, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to you. 

“…It does?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice firmer now. “I don’t know the guy, of course, but I know that doesn’t sound right.”

The way he said it, like it was something so obvious, made you feel a little unsettled. Was it really true? How have you not noticed that before, you thought this was normal? You thought that’s how a relationship was supposed to be?

For a moment, you just stared at him, this shy, nervous boy you’d only just met, and yet he saw something in your life clearer than you ever had.

“I seem to go for the wrong guys.” You frowned, “My ex made me get into all sorts of trouble with the wrong people, and Harry, my current boyfriend… he gets angry sometimes and it-”  You stopped yourself before you could say anymore. You had only met this boy barely ten minutes ago, and you were already opening up to him like this? But he made it seem so easy, he sat there and watched you like he wanted to hear what you had to say, like he cared. But that was stupid of you to assume. It was clear he was a bit of an introvert, and you had just gave him your beer and made him follow you outside, what if he didn’t care? What if he didn't want to-

“And it what?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, and you could see the soft concern on his face. 

“...It just scares me sometimes.” You confessed, swallowing hard, looking away from him. “Anyways, Noah, it was nice to meet you. I’ll probably see you around if Ben doesn’t kick you out of the band as quick as the last guitarist.” You added with a chuckle as you stood up from the wall, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Oh, are you going home already?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking over at the road, “I didn't realise how late it is. The last bus comes in about five minutes, my parents don’t even know I’ve gone out so I can’t call them if I miss it.” 

"Oh," Noah chuckled at that, looking up at you and giving you a soft, genuine smile. “Please think about what I said- about your boyfriend… I don’t know the whole situation but I know a red flag when I see one.” He wanted to say more, he doesn’t deserve you, or, break up with him already! But Noah had only known you for a few minutes, he couldn’t get ahead of himself just yet. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Noah…. goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, y/n.” 

And just like that, you left. You thought about that boy the whole way home, you thought about him as you snuck in through the back door, you thought about him when you got into bed. Not a day passed where you didn't think about him, and wondered when you'd see him again.

But it wasn’t too long. A few weeks later, you went round to Ben’s house. He’d texted you letting you know that the band was rehearsing in his basement and that you should come hang out. You didn’t have anything better to do, and you wanted to see Noah again.

When you got there, the sound of guitars and drums could be heard even from outside, it was very loud, very unpolished, very them. You could hear Ben laughing over the music, shouting something about tempo, and then the whole thing stopped abruptly with a clash of cymbals and a groan.

You walked through the house, talking to his parents until you reached the stairs for the basement. You stepped down quietly, then smirked as you leaned against the handrail.

“Wow. That sounded great.” You said sarcastically. 

Ben turned, bright eyed and sweaty, smiling wide. 

“Y/n!” 

Nicholas, the band's bassist-and current vocalist since the last had left with the guitarist- waved at you with his free hand. 

“Did you bring snacks?”

You shook your head. 

“If you guys gave me some money I could’ve.” You laughed, and then you spotted Noah in the far corner. He was quiet, crouching down by his amp, adjusting something as his hair fell into his eyes. 

When he realised you were not only here, but you were watching him, his head jerked up, the same pink flush from before touched his cheeks as he tried to look anywhere but you. 

“Hi.” You said, stepping further inside, taking your usual spot on Ben’s dad’s old desk chair. 

“Hey.” He replied rather quietly, picking his guitar back up. 

“Okay, let’s take a break. I need a drink… anyone else want a drink? There’s coke, lemonade…” 

You and Noah both shook your heads, but Nicholas said something about getting some doritos, so the two of them wandered up the stairs and into the house, leaving you and Noah alone together again.  

"So." You turned to him with a smirk. “Do you always look that serious when you’re tuning your guitar?”

He turned to you, blinking, a little startled. 

“What?”

“I just didn’t know it took that much concentration. You looked like you were defusing a bomb or something.” 

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. 

“I just… don’t like when it’s out of tune.”

You hummed, crossing your arms. 

“Perfectionist, huh?”

“I guess…”

He strummed a few chords, testing it, the notes echoing off the walls.

“Play something for me,” you said. “Like, something proper. A song or something.”

He hesitated. 

“I… uh… but it’ll sound weird without the rest of the band.”

“Come on. It sounds weird with the band.” You laughed.

So he did. He started playing, and you watched intently. You didn’t even realise you’d been smiling until he looked up mid riff and caught you. Your heart stuttered in your chest. 

“Wow,” you said quietly. “Okay, you’re actually really good.”

He looked away, grinning shyly. 

“Thanks.”

Before you could say anything else, Nicholas’s voice came from behind you.

“Oh my god, no way! Y/n, are you complimenting Noah now? What would Harry say if he found out!” He teased, but you froze suddenly. 

“It’s nothing! I’m just being nice, Nick, I-” 

“Nice my ass,” he laughed, “You never complimented me like that when I’d play, but suddenly the new boy plays a few chords and you’re all starry eyed!” 

You shot him a playful glare. 

“Yeah, well, you never made it look that easy.”

That made Noah chuckle, and you felt oddly proud to have coaxed it out of him. Whilst Nick and Ben started to talk about something else, you turned back to Noah with a soft smile. 

“You do make it look really easy… do you think you could teach me?”

“Teach you?”

“Yeah! I’ve always wanted to learn.” 

Noah hesitated for a moment, before nodding. He held out the guitar, and you stepped towards him, taking it. 

“Okay,” he said quietly, “Uh… try this one-”

You sat down beside him on an old amp case, the guitar sitting heavy across your lap. He reached over, guiding your hands, helping you with your fingers on strings, adjusting your grip gently. His touch was light but careful, and for a second the air felt heavier, thicker somehow. 

“Press down harder,” he said. “Not too hard, though, or it’ll buzz.”

You tried, strummed, winced at the horrible noise. He laughed softly. 

“Okay, yeah, not that hard.”

You elbowed him.

“Hey, don’t laugh. I don’t even know what I’m doing!”

“Yeah, or maybe it just likes me better.”

“Oh, shut up.”

You both started laughing, and for the first time in a very long while, you felt light, happy. But then Ben clapped his hands together behind you. 

“Alright, break’s over! Let’s get back to it.” 

You nodded, handing Noah’s guitar back over to him, your cheeks a little pink as his hands brush yours. 

It was this moment that you realised Noah could never just be a friend. None of your friends have ever made you feel like this. 

…

Months passed by, and you suddenly found yourself becoming much more interested in Ben’s band than you’ve ever been before. Definitely not just because of their new guitar player. 

Summer nights spent in Ben’s basement soon turned into autumn afternoons. You’d ignore Harry’s texts and slip on Noah’s jacket as you walked back to the bus stop together in the rain. 

Autumn afternoons soon turned into winter nights. You and Noah would share a basket of fries together after a show, Ben and Nicholas would leave the two of you to it, because they weren’t blind. They knew exactly how you and Noah felt before you two even did, and despite you already being in a relationship, they did nothing to stop you. They hated Harry, and it was clear to them that Noah made you happier than he ever did. So they didn't say a word.

Winter nights turned into spring mornings, mornings that you’d wake up on the couch in Ben’s basement. You’d check your phone to see countless missed calls from Harry, demanding you stop spending so much time with the guys. Noah was awake too, and overhead the voicemail Harry left, and as he ran a hand through his messy hair, he said to you “maybe you should stop telling him where you go.” So, later that night when Harry asked what you’d done all day, you lied. 

Another year passed, and your 18th birthday was coming up. Ben and you had planned a party, nothing too big, just some friends, and maybe friends of friends. Ben’s parents were away that night, and since his house was the biggest, it would be perfect to have it there! 

But there was just one thing. You hadn’t told Harry about it. And you hadn’t told anyone that you were scared to.

One evening, the guys were rehearsing at Noah’s place, and after they had left, you stayed behind. It wasn’t unusual for you to, and after the first few times the others stopped questioning it. The two of you moved upstairs after Ben left, so now Noah was sat cross legged on the floor, still strumming away on his guitar whilst you sat on his bed.  

“Do you ever think about how long we’ve been doing this?” You asked suddenly.

“Playing?” He asked innocently, looking up.

“Yeah. Or, you know. This.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you.

Noah smiled, shy and soft. 

“It’s almost been a couple years, I guess.”

“Mm, it feels like I’ve known you forever though.” You said with a little smile. 

Just as you opened your mouth to say more, your phone started to ring. You didn’t need to check it to see who it was, and neither did Noah. 

“Harry?” 

“Probably.” You nodded. 

Noah hesitated before asking. 

“Are you gonna answer?” 

“No.” You shook your head. “Not right now.”

He went back to playing his guitar, and you sighed heavily.

“Did you know I’m having a party?” You asked, “For my birthday.”

"Oh." His head snapped up. "No?"

“Yeah. It;s nothing too big. I just want my friends there, Ben, Nick, you. Some of their friends too. Ben’s parents are out that weekend so we’re doing it at his.”

“Sounds fun.” He said with a smile. 

“Yeah, it should be…” You hesitated, “But uh… I haven’t told Harry.” 

The way his smile faded made something twist in your chest.

“Why?” He asked quietly.

You shrugged, fiddling with your bracelets. 

“He’ll get mad. A party full of guys… as if he isn’t the reason I lost all my girl friends.” You sighed, “I just want one night where I don’t have to explain myself to him. Where I can just… have fun, without having to explain myself, without having to let him know where I am, who I’m with.”

Noah set the guitar aside. 

“That’s not normal, y/n.”

“I know,” you said quickly, like you could stop the truth from hurting. “I know it’s not. But he gets angry, Noah. And when he’s angry, it’s just easier to do what he wants. To keep him calm. It'll be easier if he just thinks I'm at home, with my family.”

He was silent for a moment. Then, softly he asked,

“Does he hurt you?”

You stared at the floor, swallowing hard. 

“No. Not… not physically.”

He got up and sat down beside you on the bed.

“You shouldn’t have to be scared of your boyfriend. He should be the person you find comfort in, the one that makes you feel safe-”

“I’m not scared of him,” you said too fast. Then, quieter, “Not exactly.”

Noah didn’t press. He just looked at you with that calm, open expression that made it hard to keep lying.

“God, listen to me. I sound pathetic.” You laughed.

“You sound like someone who’s had enough of being controlled," he said. “That’s different. I don’t understand why you won’t just leave him.” 

“Because it’s not that easy, Noah.” You blinked hard, biting the inside of your cheek.

Noah caught the shift in your tone, so he decided not to ask anything else. He just changed the subject gently. 

“So this party. You want me to come?”

“Yeah,” you said a little excitedly. “Please. I kind of need you there. Then I’ll have all my friends together!”

His lips curved into a small, careful smile. 

“Then I’ll be there.”

Outside, the sky was deepening into a shade of violet. You checked your phone again- four missed called, one unread message from babe <3 saying call me right now.

You turned the screen over, facedown on the bed and sighed. 

Noah noticed, but said nothing. He just reached for his guitar again, fingers brushing the strings, letting the sound fill the silence you didn’t know how to break.

And you were left thinking about Noah’s words. 

You shouldn’t have to be scared of your boyfriend. He should be the person you find comfort in, the one that makes you feel safe. 

Well... it sounded like he was describing himself there. 

…

“Birthday girl!” Ben shouted over the music. “We’re officially out of cake! Actually… we never had cake. Nicholas forgot. So I’m dragging him to the store. You good here for twenty minutes?”

You nodded, laughing. 

“Yeah, I think I’ll survive.”

“Try not to set the house on fire while we’re gone!” He said, pointing dramatically as he and Nicholas disappeared out the door.

And suddenly, you realised it was just you and Noah in the kitchen.

The music from the living room was muffled slightly here, you could actually hear yourself think. You leaned back against the counter, crossing your arms with a playful smirk.

“So,” you said. “Are you gonna wish me a happy birthday properly, or what?”

He looked up from his drink, grinning softly. 

“Didn’t I already?”

“Hm yeah, but a text doesn’t count. I wanna hear you say it.”

He laughed. 

“Okay, fine.” He set his cup down and glanced at you. “Happy birthday, y/n.”

“Hmm… you can do better. Try again.”

He was standing closer now, close enough that you could smell the scent of his cologne. His voice dropped lower this time, a little quieter.

“Happy birthday, y/n.”

You felt your breath catch, your tummy fluttering in a way that only Noah could cause.

“Okay, yeah. That one…” you nodded. “That one counts.”

The moment lingered, neither of you moved, his eyes dropped down to your lips for just a heartbeat before he looked away, clearing his throat.

“You, uh… having fun?”

“Yeah. I am.” You tilted your head. “Mostly thanks to you.”

He chuckled, rubbing his chin, that little nervous habit you’d grown to love.

“Pretty sure Ben’s the one who threw the party.”

“Yeah… but Ben isn't here keeping me company, is he?”

Noah froze for a moment, caught between chuckling and saying something he definitely shouldn’t.

“Y/n-”

But he didn’t get to finish. Because behind you, a familiar voice cut through the music. The one voice you hadn’t wanted to hear tonight.

“Oh, so this is where you’ve been.”

Your heart dropped.

You turned slowly to find Harry standing in the doorway, his eyes dark and sharp as glass. His hand still gripped his car keys like he was trying not to crush them.

“Harry-” You started, but he talked over you.

“When exactly were you gonna tell me you were having a party?” His tone was too calm, the kind that you knew meant he certainly wasn't calm. “Or were you just hoping I wouldn’t find out?”

Every muscle in your body tensed. You could feel Noah beside you go still too, but his voice stayed steady when he spoke.

“She didn’t have to tell you.” He said quietly.

Harry’s eyes snapped to him, his face screwed up. 

“I’m sorry, who the hell are you?”

“Noah,” he said simply. “Her friend.”

Harry scoffed, stepping forward. 

“Her friend? Oh yeah, you look real friendly standing that close to someone else’s girlfriend.”

You swallowed hard, stepping between them before it could get worse.

“Harry, stop. Noah's part of Ben's band! It’s not what it looks like-”

“Oh, isn’t it?” His voice rose, and the chatter from the next room dying down slightly, people starting to notice. “Because it looks a hell of a lot like you’ve been lying to me again, y/n. Is this who you’ve been with when I’ve been at home worried sick about you?”

Noah’s eyes darkened in anger as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You should leave.” 

“You should stay out of this.” 

“I would, if you weren’t making her uncomfortable.” Noah shot back.

Harry was done playing nice. He grabbed Noah by the front of his shirt, slamming him against the wall so hard the picture frames rattled. Gasps broke out around the room, the music still pounded through the house but the energy had changed, like it always does when Harry’s about.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with her?” He spat, his face inches from Noah’s. “You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t know? I’ve had my suspicions-”

Noah held his hands up, palms open, trying to stay calm even with Harry’s arm pinning him. 

“Man, I’m not-” But Harry didn’t let him finish. 

His fist flew, crashing right into Noah’s jaw. The sound echoed through the kitchen, and Noah staggered back with a groan.

“HARRY!” You shrieked, grabbing at him, but he didn’t budge.

Noah pushed himself off the wall with a smug smirk as he swung back, landing a blow against Harry’s cheek. For a split second he actually stumbled, but then his fury snapped him upright again. He was seeing red, and you were worried about just how far he would go. 

“You piece of shit.” Harry growled, and before Noah could move, he punched him again, right on the nose this time. Noah cried out, stumbling back into the counter, clutching at his face as blood began to trickle down over his fingers.

“STOP  IT!! STOP!!” You screamed, tears burning in your eyes. You’d been too scared to step in, but seeing what he’d done to Noah… you couldn’t let this carry on. “Harry, stop it!”

He turned just enough to glance at you, and the look on his face made your stomach churn. 

“No. He needs to learn to keep his fucking hands off what’s mine.”

“I wasn’t even-” Noah tried again, but he was cut off as Harry pinned him back against the wall.

Something in you snapped. You surged forward, grabbing Harry’s arm. 

“No…. Harry if you don’t let him go, it’s over.” You hissed through your teeth, your heart pounding so fast in your chest you were afraid it might burst out, “Do you hear me? If you don’t let him go, WE ARE DONE.”

For a brief moment, his grip loosened on Noah’s shirt. His head turned, his eyes meeting yours… but then he smirked. A pure evil, disgusting grin spread across his face, and then he turned back to Noah, his fist raising once more. 

That was it. You weren’t thinking straight, your eyes landed on the frying pan left on Ben’s counter… and before your brain could catch up, you had reached for it, and with every ounce of panic and fury in your chest, every degrading thing Harry had ever called you, every scowl he’d ever given you… you swung it. 

THWACK!!

The pan hit the back of his head. You didn’t see his face, but you watched the way he crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, and landed with a heavy thud.

The entire room went silent.

Your chest heaved, the pan clattering from your grip as you stared down at him- Harry, unconscious, sprawled at your feet.

“Holy shit…” Noah groaned, snapping you out of it. 

“Come on, we have to go.” Your voice was panicked, as was your breathing. You hooked your arm under his, dragging him upright even though his weight nearly took you both down. His face was a mess, blood smeared, lip split, nose streaming, but his eyes were still open, dazed but focused on you.

The crowd that had gathered outside the kitchen parted without a word as you hauled him down the hall. No one tried to stop you. Some just stared, some whispered, but you didn’t stop for any of them. 

You dragged Noah into the bathroom and slammed the door, twisting the lock until it clicked. Only then did you let Noah collapse back against the wall, his chest heaving as blood streaked down onto his shirt.

“Fuck…” he groaned, one hand pressed clumsily against his bleeding face. “You just- you actually fucking-”

“I know, I know…” You cut him off, grabbing your phone from your pocket with shaking fingers. You typed as fast as you could manage through the blur of tears in your eyes. 

To Ben: Something bad happened. If Harry wakes up, tell him we're done and I left with Noah. Tell him you don’t know where. Please, just please.

You hit send, your thumbs shaking, then finally dropped the phone onto the counter.

When you turned back, Noah was watching you. He tried to laugh, but it came out a painful groan. 

“Remind me never to piss you off…”

You let out a breathless laugh, then pressed a towel to his face, your hands shaking as you tried to stop the bleeding. Your tears were dripping down onto his shirt before you realised you were crying again.

“I’m sorry, Noah.” You whispered, your voice breaking. “I’m so fucking sorry-”

“Don’t,” he rasped, his hand fumbling up to weakly cover yours on the towel. “Don’t apologise. You didn’t do this, you saved me.”

Which was the truth, in more ways than one. 

You swallowed hard, still pressing the towel to his face. His blood smeared against your fingers, warm and sticky, and you couldn’t tell if the tremor running through you was from fear or rage or something else entirely.

Noah shifted slightly under your touch, wincing as he tried to take the towel from you.

“I can do it,” he mumbled, voice hoarse. “It’s okay, I don’t-”

“No, you’ll make it worse,” you cut him off gently. You could see how unsteady his hands were, how clumsy his movements were from the shock. “Please. Just let me.”

He hesitated, but then his shoulders sagged and he let the towel slip from his fingers. He looked away, eyes fixed on the tiled wall like he was embarrassed for you to even be seeing him like this.

You stood and reached for the cupboard above the sink, shoving aside shampoo bottles and shaving foam until you found a little first aid kit. You popped it open on the counter, pulling out the antiseptic wipes.

When you turned back to him, he was sitting on the closed toilet lid, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, one hand covering his face. Blood was still trickling down from his split lip and nose.

“Noah,” you said softly, crouching in front of him. “Look at me.”

He did, reluctantly. His eyes were a little glossy, his bottom lip swollen and split. For a second he looked like a boy again, the one you met that night at the bar, not the man you’ve watched him grow into. 

You reached out with a clean wipe and dabbed carefully at his lip. He hissed, sucking in a breath through his teeth, but didn’t pull away.

“Sorry.” You whispered, your thumb brushing along his jaw to tilt his face toward the light.

“This is… not how I pictured your birthday going.” He tried to joke, though his voice came out shaky.

“Yeah. Me neither.” you chuckled softly.

You worked in silence for a few moments, wiping away the blood from his lip, his chin, his nose. Your hands steadied the longer you focused on him.

But then, without meaning to, your eyes lingered on the shape of his mouth. The scars left from old piercings. The little freckle beneath his eye. His dark lashes as he blinked at you.

Noah noticed. You felt it in the way his breath hitched, in how his hands fidgeted on his thighs like he didn’t know where to put them… like he wanted to touch you but knew he shouldn’t.

“Y/n…” 

Your thumb brushed the corner of his mouth again, smearing a faint streak of red. The sound of your breathing filled the tiny room. You knew you should move away, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. 

You were still full of adrenaline, your whole body buzzing. .

And before you could think better of it, you leaned in.

The kiss was a little clumsy and almost hesitant, at first it was just a soft press of your lips against his split ones. You tasted copper immediately, a tang of his blood from his lip. He made a small sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and then kissed you back harder, like he couldn’t help it. Like his restraint snapped, and he was finally giving in to the way he’s felt since the night he met you. 

It was messy, warm, and wrong, but it felt right. It felt real. His hands slid up your arms like he was afraid you might disappear, his forehead resting against yours when you finally pulled back, both of you breathing hard and heavy.

There was a faint smear of red on your mouth from him, and you felt dizzy.

“Shit,” he whispered, voice rough as he wiped his blood from your lip. “We shouldn’t…”

But he didn’t move. Neither did you.

Not until his hand slid up, his fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you back in. And you were done for. Truly done for. 

Because the second kiss was even hotter, even hungrier, even more desperate. You leaned into it, you let him pull you into his lap without even breaking the kiss. His mouth was warm, and he was such a better kisser than Harry…

God, you’ve secretly wanted this for so long, you could barely breathe. 

You didn’t care what was going on outside the bathroom, you didn’t care that you could taste his blood on your tongue, because he was pulling you closer, he was kissing you harder, making half groan, half whimpering noises that made you feel dizzy. 

“Hey, y/n? It’s me,” Ben’s voice suddenly called through the door, followed by a soft knock, “Don’t freak out, I kicked that fucker out. It’s safe out here now… uh is Noah okay? I heard someone say you took him in here, and that he looked pretty bad-” 

“Uh… yeah! We…” You scrambled for words as you ripped yourself out of Noah’s grasp. “I cleaned him up and… everything’s okay!” 

You frantically wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand, horrified at the red smear that you knew would be there. 

“Okay, I’m glad you’re both fine. Your cake’s waiting out here, birthday girl. I’ll light the candles once you come out.” 

“Okay! Thanks!” You called back, your chest rising and falling like you’d just ran a mile, whilst Noah just stayed sat on the closed toilet, lips parted, cheeks flushed. 

“Noah…” You whispered, turning back to him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean for that to happen.” 

He nodded, letting out a soft, bitter laugh as he stood up, glancing at himself in the mirror. Wiping at his own mouth, he met your eyes through the reflection. 

“Yeah, me neither.” 

You nodded again, shoving the first aid kit back into the cupboard, plastering on the best fake smile you could, and twisted the lock before stepping out into the hall, leaving Noah in the bathroom with blood on his shirt, and the taste of your lips on his. 

Ben was waiting in the hall, his arms crossed but his face soft with concern. 

“Hey. You okay?”

You forced a nod, pushing down the tremble in your voice. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. I cleaned Noah up. And I just… needed a minute.”

He gave you an unsure look, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he poked his head in, checking on Noah before slinging an arm around your shoulders, guiding you down the hall. 

“Well, we won’t let Harry ruin your night. It’s cake time!” 

Ben told you to wait in the living room. Nicholas turned the music down a little, and then turned the lights down. Then, Ben walked in, the candles on the cake lit as everyone started to sing happy birthday. 

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

Because you were still trying to process everything. The way you had just ended things with Harry, the way you could still feel Noah’s hand on the back of your neck, his lips pressed against yours. You could still hear his shaky voice, whispering “We shouldn’t.”

That’s what got you the most. Not the kiss. Not the blood. Not the mess of it all. But those two words.

We shouldn’t.

Your brain, working against you as ever, twisted his words into something bad. Maybe he didn't want it the way you did. Maybe it was just the adrenaline, maybe it was a mistake. 

Maybe all he wanted was to be your friend.

So you grinned and laughed when the cake was set down in front of you, the flames flickering, dimly lighting the room. You leaned forward and blew them all out in one breath. You heard everyone cheer, and the music was turned back up. 

But when you lifted your head, your eyes found him instantly.

Noah was stood in the back just by the door, arms folded, his lip still swollen. He didn’t smile when you looked at him, but he didn’t frown. He didn’t look away either.

Because in that moment, you really knew it. You both knew.

Friends didn’t kiss like that. Friends didn’t look at each other like this.

…

It had been a few months since your birthday, since the breakup, the blood, and the kiss you still couldn’t stop replaying when you were alone in bed at night.

You and Noah never talked about it. Not once. You never even told Ben about it. 

It wasn’t that you’d agreed not to, you just didn’t know how to start, and you didn’t want to bring it up. So, instead, you pretended it hadn’t happened, even though every time his hand brushed yours, every time he smiled a little too long, you both felt it.

You still hung out, still talked every day. But something had shifted. It wasn’t the same easy friendship it once was, because before, it was playful. You knew when he’d be flirting with you, and you’d flirt back, playing along, assuming he was just being friendly. But now, you questioned every lingering glance, every compliment, wondering if it really meant more.  

So when he texted you late one night “Can I come over?” you said yes before you could think twice.

He showed up just before midnight, hoodie pulled up, hair messy, nerves written all over his face, but the moment you opened the door you saw how that started to soften, but he still looked a little restless. You could tell something was wrong. 

“What happened?” You asked, letting him in.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he collapsed onto your couch. 

“I fell out with Ben.”

You frowned, sitting beside him. 

“...What do you mean?”

“Just… I did something stupid,” he frowned, his eyes fixed on the floor. “It doesn’t matter. I just had to come over before I made it worse.”

You wanted to ask, but the way he said it, the shame in his tone, made you stop. So instead, you nudged him gently with your leg. 

“You’ll fix it. You always do.”

He gave a weak smile. 

“Yeah, maybe. I dunno. I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking lately… about starting something new. Something that’s mine.”

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrowed

He hesitated for a moment, then reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out his phone. 

“I’ve been writing. Recording a little. It’s just demos right now, but…” he scrolled for a second, found the file, and handed it to you. “Here. I wrote this a couple weeks ago, it’s called glass houses. Just… tell me what you think.”

The song was heavy, raw and rough around the edges, you could hear the emotion in his screams, and dare you say it was better than anything Ben has ever written. 

When it ended, you realised you’d been holding your breath.

“Noah,” you whispered. “That’s… amazing.”

He looked up at you, eyes wide like he didn’t quite believe you. 

“You think so?”

“I know so.” You smiled, shaking your head in disbelief. “You have to do this. You have to put it out. This can’t just sit on your phone. The world needs to hear that.”

He grinned, that old almost shy grin you hadn’t seen in months. 

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking that too. I was thinking about asking Nick if he wants to join me to play bass, I know this other guy who could play guitar… I just need a drummer if I want to make it a band.”

You thought for a moment, then smiled. 

“I know a guy.”

“You do?” His brows lifted. 

You nodded, leaning back into the couch. 

“He’s called Nick, too. He lives a few hours away but… he’s sick. I’ll text him for you.” 

Noah looked at you for a moment without saying anything, and for the first time in a while, there was a flicker of something bright in his eyes. Hope, maybe. Excitement.

“Thank you.” He said softly.

You shrugged, smiling faintly. 

“You don’t have to thank me.” You chuckled, “I know you’ve got talent, Noah. I’ve known it since we first met. You can’t just play guitar in a band that’s going nowhere… don’t tell Ben, but this has more potential than anything I’ve heard him make.”

“I think that’s why he got mad,” Noah explained, “I asked him if I could do vocals in the band and he said no. I showed him the demo and he told me it was a bad idea.”

You shook your head. 

“Look, don’t listen to him. Listen to your heart, Noah. I think you could really go somewhere with this, don’t let someone else's jealousy hold you back.” 

Noah nodded his head, smiling softly. 

You didn’t know it yet, but that night, the night you sat side by side on your couch with his demo still playing on his iphone 5, was the start of it all.  

It was the night that changed everything forever. 

… 

A week or so later, you were at Noah’s apartment. You were sat on the floor, legs crossed beside Nick, or Folio as he introduced himself to the others. You knew him from Ben’s old band, he played guitar but he always knew he wanted to be a drummer- but Ben was not letting him. He wanted to play drums, and wouldn’t let anyone else have a say. He was rather controlling, you've come to notice, since Noah had pointed it out. 

You were joined by two others, besides Noah- Nicholas from Ben’s band, who had already planned to tell Ben he quits, and a guy called Jolly. He seemed like a sweetheart, he was very polite to you, and very flirty. This was the bands first ever official meeting, and Noah had insisted you be here for it too. 

“So…” Noah clapped his hands together, standing by the window, watching the guys. Nicholas was sitting back on the couch, legs spread, and Jolly was on the small armchair. “We’ve got a band, we’ve got a couple demos I need to show you guys… we just need a band name.” 

“Fuck.” Jolly groaned, “I thought you would’ve thought this shit out already.” 

“Of course he hasn’t,” Nicholas laughed, “He wants us to figure that out.” 

“Well,” Folio began, stretching his legs out in front of him, “Me and the guys got high the other night and watched scooby doo, they had a band called The Bad Omens and I thought that shit sounded so cool.” 

“You seriously can’t name your band after a band from scooby doo.” You laughed, but soon stopped when you saw Noah having a lightbulb moment. 

“Folio, dude, I could kiss you.” He said, rushing over to his laptop, “That’s… literally perfect. The Bad Omens…” 

“You’re serious?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t tell me that’s not the coolest thing you’ve ever heard?” Nicholas chuckled, “I’m all for it.” 

“Jolly?” Noah looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah, sure!” 

“You guys are crazy.” You chuckled, reaching for your drink, “The Bad Omens?” 

“Well, we could drop the “the” and just be… Bad Omens.” Noah suggested. “Sounds a little less goofy.” 

“Fuck yeah!” Folio grinned. 

You and the guys spent the rest of the afternoon there, talking about bands they all liked, their biggest influences, what they wanted to sound like, Noah even asked the guys if they had any suggestions on how to improve the demos he came up with. He was involving the others so much, more than Ben ever did in his band. 

At around 7pm, whilst everyone was waiting for the pizzas they ordered, the door knocked. Noah picked up the cash from the side and headed to the door… only for it not to be the pizza guy. 

It was Ben. His hair was a mess, he looked a little scruffier than usual, and as he pushed past Noah to step in, you could immediately smell alcohol on him. 

“Wow,” he said , looking around. “So this is where everyone went.”

You froze where you sat on the floor. Folio glanced between you and Ben, brows furrowed. Nicholas shifted awkwardly on the couch.

“What are you doing here?” Noah asked carefully, taking a step back from him.

“Thought I’d come see this for myself,” Ben shot back, his gaze landing on you. “Since apparently my friends have all decided to jump ship without saying a damn word.”

You swallowed hard.

“Ben-”

“Don’t.” He cut you off sharply, voice raised just enough to make your stomach turn. “You, of all people, y/n. You’re supposed to be my friend- my best friend. And instead you’re here… what? Helping him? Y’know that’s not gonna make him want you, right? I know what you're playing at here.”

You opened your mouth, wanting to defend yourself, but nothing came out.

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that.”

“Oh, shut up man.” Ben turned on him. “I knew this was your plan. You’ve been trying to steal everyone from me since day one.”

“They’re not yours to steal,” Noah snapped. “You don’t own people, Ben.”

Ben scoffed, stepping closer until he was right in front of Noah. 

“You think you’re some kind of leader now? Just because you wrote a few songs in your bedroom and learnt to scream?”

“At least I actually listen to people.” He said. “You wonder why we don’t wanna be part of the band no more.” 

“Fuck you.” Ben hissed through his teeth, before his eyes landed back on you. 

God, you felt awful. You could see the disappointment in his eyes, and also the anger. 

“I can’t believe you’d pick him over me,” he said quietly. “After everything we’ve been through. After everything I’ve done for you, y/n. I thought you were my friend… without you I don’t have… I don’t have anyone.”

Your throat tightened. You stood up slowly, your voice trembling when you finally spoke.

“I’m not picking anyone’s side, Ben. I just… I believe in what he’s doing. Noah and Nick are my friends too-”

“Right, yeah.” He laughed bitterly. “You ‘believe’ in him.”

“Enough!” Noah took a step forward, his tone sharper now. “Ben, you’ve made your point, now I think you should leave before you say something you’ll regret.”

Ben scoffed, but he didn’t move. 

“You think you can just-”

“You think this is about me?” Noah cut him off, “This is about you, Ben. You drove us away because you treat people like props in your little act, and when they stop playing along, you throw a tantrum.”

“You don’t know shit about me.” Ben shook his head, his face reddening. 

“I know enough,” Noah said. “I know your best friend was in a toxic relationship and you didn’t do shit to help her. I know you only ever cared about the bands image, and not whether you treat yooour bandmates right. And I know that right now, you’re so fucking mad because someone finally told you how it is.”

You watched as Ben’s expression turned from anger to something a little more uncertain, you watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. 

“I think you should leave." Noah said.

For a moment, Ben looked like he might argue. But then he shook his head, muttering under his breath as he turned toward the door.

“Fine. Don’t come crawling back when this falls apart.” He slammed the door behind him.

The silence that followed felt deafening. You stared at the door, then back at Noah. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tense too.

“Well… sorry about that,” he said finally, running a hand through his hair. “Didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

But it didn’t kill the mood, because once Ben left, things picked up exactly where they left, and when the pizza finally came, Folio joked about it being Ben coming back for round 2. 

By the time the guys left, it was dark outside, and the apartment was littered with beer cans, guitar picks scattered around, and empty pizza boxes. You stayed to help Noah clean up.

He leaned against the counter, watching you for a moment as you gathered the cans in your arms. 

“You don’t have to stay, you know. I can clean this place by myself.”

“I want to.” You shrugged, before falling into silence again… then quieter, you added, “I’m really not one for picking sides, Noah.”

He looked up, brows furrowed slightly.

“But if I had to…” you continued, setting the cans down and meeting his eyes. “I’d choose you. Every time.”

He stared at you for a second like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right. Then he smiled, small, almost shy. Like he did the first night you met.

“Y/n…”

You didn’t move. Neither did he. It was like the space between you had its own gravity, and you were being pulled towards each other. He took a slow step closer, and you could smell the faint trace of his cologne, cigarette smoke and something warm. Something that smelled like home.

“Are you sure you want to pick me?” He asked softly with a gentle chuckle.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” You nodded.

He exhaled, like he’d been holding that breath for months. Then, gently, his hand brushed against yours. His thumb grazed your knuckles, tentative and soft, and when you didn’t pull away, he leaned in. 

The kiss was soft this time. There was no adrenaline fueling it like the last time, there was no rush, it was just slow and real. And it felt so right. 

When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he whispered,

“Thank you… for believing in me.”

You smiled, eyes still closed.

“Always. You guys are gonna make it, I can feel it.”

He kissed you again, and again… and before you knew it, you were in his bedroom, letting his rough hands undress you as you fell back onto his mattress, not breaking the kiss once. 

…

A few more months passed by, and you and Noah had not long both turned 19 when you surprised him by booking the band their first show. You had not long been working at the local venue in your city, and you knew the band that was playing in a few weeks, so you managed to pull a few strings and got Bad Omens their first ever show. 

So now, you were stood side stage watching the guys perform together for the first time with something warm in your chest. Pride? Awe? Love? You can’t count how many times they had rehearsed for this show, and despite only having 4 songs, they were giving it their all. It wasn’t even a big venue either, the maximum capacity was only a couple hundred, but that didn’t mean a thing. Because you knew tonight meant everything and more to Noah and the guys. 

You still couldn’t believe it had all come together this fast. All it took was a few calls, and suddenly Noah and the guys had a twenty minute opening slot. You remembered how he’d looked when you told him, eyes wide, speechless, before pulling you into the tightest hug of your life.

“We’re called Bad Omens,” Noah said with a grin, looking out into the crowd. “Make some fucking noise!!"

The first song, the worst in me, had the crowd moving almost instantly, heads banging, people cheering even though they’d never even heard of the band before. You could see the nerves melt away from the guys within seconds, they all looked like they'd been doing this their whole lives, like this was just what they were meant to do.

You found yourself mouthing along with the words, the same ones you’d heard him practicing for weeks. Every time you’d been in his apartment helping him record, every time you’d sat cross legged on the couch while he paced and rewrote a line, this was what he’d been building towards.

The lights beamed white as they hit the final chorus of their last song of the night, exit wounds. Then they dimmed, the guys stood there, sweaty, out of breath, but insanely proud of each other.

They’d done it.

You clapped, laughing as you wiped a tear from your cheek before anyone could see. Noah then turned to the band, mouthing a quick “holy shit,” and then leaned into the mic again, breathless and grinning.

“Alright…” he said, his voice still buzzing with adrenaline. “We are Bad Omens.” The crowd cheered again. He gestured to each of them in turn. “That’s Nick on bass, Folio on drums, and Jolly on guitar. I’m Noah Sebastian, and holy shit, this was our first show ever!”

The crowd cheered again, but then he raised a hand, signaling for quiet.

“I, uh…” he started, smiling nervously. “I wasn’t gonna say this tonight, but… screw it. I’ve got something I want to say whilst I'm up here.”

The crowd hushed. You tilted your head slightly, curious, he hadn’t mentioned anything to you.

He glanced offstage for a moment, and his eyes found you. 

“I wouldn’t be standing on this stage right now if it wasn’t for someone very special, none of us would,” he said into the mic. “Someone who believed in me before anyone else. Who pushed me when I didn’t think I could do this…”

The crowd murmured, people craning their necks to see who he was looking at. Your heart started to pound. He took a breath, smiling wider now. 

He turned then, fully, completely, to face you.

“I want to ask the person who made this all happen… who made my dreams possible…” he started, voice softer now. “Y/n. My biggest supporter, my best friend… sorry Nick.”

The spotlight shifted, just slightly, landing near where you stood, half hidden at the edge of the stage.

“Fuck… will… will you be my girlfriend?”

Your brain froze for half a second, just long enough to make everyone around you start chanting “SAY YES! SAY YES!” before you finally covered your face, laughing through the tears, shaking your head in disbelief.

You stepped forward, half embarrassed, half not believing this was real, and called out to him.  

“Yes!”

The crowd cheered again. Noah set the microphone back in its stand and ran across the stage toward you. He crouched slightly, just enough to wrap his arms around you, hugging you so tight that your feet rose from the ground. When he let go, he kissed you once on the lips, then the noise of the crowd faded away for just a moment as he leaned in close enough that only you could hear him.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For everything… I love you so much, you don't even understand.”

You smiled up at him, squeezing his hand. 

“Of course, I love you, too.”

He kissed you again, and as he did, you realised this was it. You were happy, you didn’t feel scared or small or unsure. Everything felt right. 

But oh, how naive you were to believe this would last forever. 

…

two years later 

This wasn’t how you pictured life after moving in with Noah. The band’s debut album blew up far beyond anything any of you or the guys expected. The guys were now booked for international tours and support acts for bigger bands they never thought they would’ve been able to share a green room with. This was everything Noah said he’d ever dreamed of… but along with it, came a version of him you didn’t recognise. A version of him you didn’t like.

A year ago, Noah surprised you with the keys to a small, cozy little house. The two of you spent weeks decorating, making it your own little space. One bedroom was used as Noah’s home studio, and the other was your shared bedroom. 

But tonight, your house didn’t feel like home. 

The clock on the kitchen wall said 2:47 am. The light in the living room was the only thing still on, and your phone lay face up on the table, and you were staring at all the unread messages you had sent Noah that night. 

You: where are you?

You: noah you said you’d be home before midnight

You: are you okay?

You: please answer me noah, i'm scared

You sat at the table in one of his hoodies, a mug of tea that was now cold in front of you. But when you finally heard the lock click, your stomach was knots, knowing the state he’d most likely be in. 

The door creaked open. Noah stumbled in, the smell hitting you before his voice did, beer, weed, his new expensive cologne that didn't smell like him. His hair was messy, his eyes glazed in that way that told you he was far gone, and his cheeks were rosy.

He didn’t even look at you at first. He just kicked his shoes off, muttering something under his breath as he walked through into the living rom and dropped down on to the couch.

“Where were you?” You asked, keeping your voice steady despite the tears in your eyes. 

He blinked, turning to face you with a lazy grin.

“Out.”

“Out where?” You stood up. “You said you were just getting a couple drinks with Nick and Jolly. You said you’d be home before midnight. You said we could watch a movie together tonight, Noah!”

“Yeah, and then some... people showed up,” he said, waving a hand dismissively as he got back up and made for the fridge. “Some label guys. We thought we'd stay a bit longer for uh... networking.”

He said that word like it excused everything. Like you’d just let it slip. But you didn’t. You folded your arms, watching him get up and reach into the fridge, rummaging for a beer even though he already reeked of it.

“Noah, you’ve been coming home like this almost every night for weeks now. You smell like weed, you barely sleep, and you’ve cancelled rehearsals because you’re hungover. You’ve got a tour coming up in a few weeks, I-”

“Jesus, y/n, can you not start tonight?” He popped the cap off the bottle, taking a long sip before meeting your eyes.

“I’m not starting, I’m worried.” You stepped forward, lowering your voice. “This isn’t you. You don’t even like those guys you’re hanging out with. They only care about what you can give them-”

“They’re in the industry!” He snapped suddenly, slamming the fridge door. “They can help us, help me. You wouldn’t get that.”

You flinched at the sharpness in his tone. He’d never raised his voice at you like this before.

“I wouldn’t get that?” You repeated, quietly. “I’ve been here from the beginning, Noah. I believed in you when no one else did. Don’t act like I don’t understand. I understand more than anybody!"

He sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his hair, pacing a little.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just… you’re always on my case lately.”

“Because you’ve changed.” The words came out before you could stop them, “You used to come home excited about writing, telling me about your day. Now you come home drunk and just out of it. You used to talk about the music, the future. Now you just… zone out.”

He looked at you then, and for a second, you saw the guilt in his eyes. But it was gone as quick as it came.

“Maybe I’m just trying to live a little, okay? You think I wanna spend every night here? I’m twenty one, y/n. I’m not some fucking saint.”

You bit down hard on your lip.

“Living a little is one thing, Noah. But this? I feel like you're throwing everything you've worked for away... I feel like you're pushing me away.”

He laughed under his breath, a harsh, humourless sound.

“God, you sound like Ben.”

That one stung. You felt it like a slap. 

“Don’t you dare compare me to him.”

“Well, you’re trying to tell me how to run my life,” he slurred, taking another long sip. “Both convinced I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Because right now you don’t!” Your voice cracked then, the frustration spilling out. “You’re pushing away the people who love you, Noah. I feel this way because I care, I’m not your enemy.”

“You’re acting like one.” He spat back. 

That silence afterwards was heavy, and it made you feel sick. You could hear the ticking of the wall clock, the sound of your own heartbeat racing, and you hated it.

He looked away first, finishing the beer, setting it down on the counter with a clink. Then, he looked up at you and spoke again, his voice a little softer this time.

“Maybe you should just stop trying to control me.”

You swallowed hard, your frustration turning into hurt. 

“Control you? That’s what you think this is?”

“I don’t know what it is anymore.” His tone was tired now, drained. “You’re always disappointed with me. It’s like I can’t do anything right lately...”

“That’s because you’re barely trying!” Your hands were shaking. “You say you’re networking, but all I see is you turning into someone I don’t recognise, hanging out with guys who are bad influences! You think this is what success looks like? Because it’s not.”

Noah stared at the floor, and when he finally looked up, his voice was quieter, but colder.

“You know what? Maybe this is just who I am now, and I'm not changing it for anyone. If you don’t like it, then… then you can get fucked.”

That broke something in you that never repaired itself, not even after years and years of fighting, whenver you thought back to this moment, it always hurt the same. You felt it, the slow, aching tear of your heart as it broke in two. You stepped back, arms wrapping around yourself. If you had any sense, you should’ve finished things here, saved yourself years and years of heartbreak.

“I think you should sleep on the couch tonight.” You said.

“What?”

“I can’t do this with you right now.” You didn’t raise your voice. You didn’t need to. The exhaustion in it said enough. “Go sleep it off, Noah.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he wanted to argue, but then he didn’t. He just muttered, 

“Fine.” And turned away.

You watched him grab a blanket from the chair, watched him drop onto the couch without another word. He didn’t even look at you when you went to your room and shut the door.

You leaned against it for a long moment, your throat tight, trying to breathe through the aching pain in your chest. From the other side of the door, you could still hear him, the sound of the couch creaking, a quiet sigh, the sound of his phone being set down on the table.

And for the first time since you’d met him, you went to bed without saying goodnight. And for the first time since moving in together, you woke up to an empty bed. 

But you got up and went about your morning, ignoring your snoring boyfriend on the couch… but for a moment you did stand in the hallway, arms crossed over your chest as you watched him. His arm was draped over his face, his hair a mess, his shirt ridden up around his waist and the blanket on the floor. 

You wanted to wake him, to ask why he’d done it again, to demand the old Noah back, but instead you just took the blanket and pulled it up over him, your hand very softly cupping his face, your thumb stroking his cheek. Deep down, every time you looked at him, you still saw the shy boy he once was, the one who was too nervous to speak to you, the one who made you giggle and blush… now he just made you upset and frustrated. 

You wandered into the kitchen, carefully shutting the door behind you as you reached into your pocket for your phone. You couldn’t keep this to yourself, you had to bring this up to one of his friends, someone from the band, someone who was out with him last night. 

Jolly.

It rang twice before he picked up, his voice muffled and a little groggy.

“...Y/n? Hey. Is everything okay?”

You hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, not at all,” he lied softly, the rustle of sheets giving him away. “What’s up?”

You exhaled shakily, staring out the window.

“I didn’t really know who else to call...”

There was a small pause. You could almost hear him sit up straighter.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not.” You laughed weakly. “Me and Noah... we had an argument last night.” 

“Ah shit,” he said carefully. “Yeah... he’s been different lately. We all see it.”

That made your chest ache even more.

“So it’s not just me?”

“No, it’s not just you.” His tone softened. “He’s getting caught up in all the wrong shit. The late nights, the people… you know what it’s like in this scene. The band is gaining traction and suddenly everyone wants a piece of him now.”

“I know, I know,” you frowned, “It’s just… he comes home drunk at three in the morning, smelling like weed and beer, and he looks at me like I’m the problem when I say I’m worried about him. I don’t even recognise him anymore, Jolly.”

You heard him sigh.

“I get it, I do. This kinda fame, if you can even call it that, even a small taste of it can really mess with you.”

“I feel like I’m losing him, Jolly. But... I don’t know what I’d do without him…”

“Hey,” Jolly said gently. “You’re not losing him, okay? He’s just a little lost right now. But you’ve always been his anchor, y/n. He’ll find his way back on track. It’s not down to you to fix him, but he needs you now more than ever...”

“You really think so?” You asked, your eyes blurred with tears despite the little smile on your lips. 

“I know so.” He said, his voice warm and steady, almost like he was trying to lend you a bit of that steadiness through the phone. Then, a little quieter, he added, “He’s really lucky, you know. To have someone who cares enough to stick by him like you have, whether he deserves it or not.”

“Thanks, Jolly,” you whispered. “Sorry again if I woke you, I just needed to talk to someone, to just… say it out loud.”

“Anytime,” he said quickly. Then, after a moment, “You can always talk to me, y’know. No matter what time it is. Got it?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see it.

“Got it.”

“Good.” He hesitated like he wanted to say more, then exhaled softly. “Have a good day, y/n. Don’t spend it worrying about him, he’ll realise how he’s fucked up soon enough.”

“I’ll try.” You said with a sigh, even though you knew you wouldn’t.

When you hung up, you stood there for a long time, your hands braced on the counter. You could still hear Noah snoring on the couch, and even just thinking about him made your heart hurt. 

The boy who once promised you the world, was now slipping further away every day. And you wondered if love alone would really be enough to save him.

But still, you slipped your phone back into your pocket and pushed the door to the living room open softly, and as you did so, you heard the couch creak. 

“Noah?”

You glanced over at him. He was sitting up slowly, squinting against the light, his hair sticking up in all directions. 

“...Fuck, what time is it?” He grumbled, rubbing his face.

“Almost noon.” You said softly, watching him.

He blinked, looking around the room, at the bottles on the table, at the fact he’s woken up on the couch. Then he looked at you, his brows furrowed, confused. 

“What… what happened last night?”

You stared at him, disbelief flashing through you.

“You don’t remember?”

“I mean…” He frowned, sitting up straighter. “I remember going out with the guys and then…” he trailed off, his voice uncertain. “Did I do something?”

You let out a sharp, shaky laugh, more out of frustration than humor.

“Yeah, Noah. We argued. You came home at three in the morning, completely out of it. I tried to talk to you, and you told me to get fucked. Ringing any bells now?”

He froze, his expression falling as the fog cleared from his memory.

“Shit.” His voice broke a little. “Y/n… fuck, I-”

You didn’t say anything. You just stood there, watching him try to remember exactly how awful he’d been.

“Hey,” he said quickly, standing now, moving toward you. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of that. I was drunk, and-”

“That’s the problem, Noah.” You sighed, stepping back slightly. “You’re always drunk lately.”

He winced. 

“I know. I know. I just… it’s a lot for me, okay? The album, the interviews, the pressure, all of this happening so suddenly-”

“I get that,” you said quietly. “But you can’t keep taking it out on me. I’m the one person who’s always been on your side. If you can’t cope with it all then let me help you, you never have to think you’re alone in this, Noah.”

He looked at you then, his eyes suddenly glassy, his voice soft as he spoke.

“I know,” he whispered. “I really, really don’t deserve you.”

Before you could say anything, his hands were on your face, rough palms warm against your skin. His thumbs brushed under your eyes, his forehead pressing to yours.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you... I'd never do that on purpose.”

His voice trembled, and that was the part that broke you. You wanted to resist, but when his lips found your forehead, then your cheek, then your mouth, your fight faded away.

He kissed you like he was begging forgiveness, it was slow and too gentle for the boy who’d raised his voice at you the night before. And for a moment, you let him. Because this was the Noah you knew, the one you fell in love with, the one who smelled like soap and coffee, not beer and smoke. The one who looked at you like you were still the best thing in his life...

When he finally pulled back, he kept his hands on your face, his eyes searching yours.

“I’ll do better,” he whispered. “I promise. No more staying out late. No more bullshit. I just… I love you too much to screw this up.”

Your chest ached at that. You wanted to believe him. God, back in that moment you did believe him.

“Okay,” you breathed, nodding slightly. “Okay.”

He smiled that same smile that used to make your knees weak, and pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Let me make it up to you.” He said against your mouth. “Breakfast in bed…?”

You giggled softly, shaking your head. 

“Its lunchtime, y’know.” 

He grinned, brushing his thumb across your cheek. 

“Fine, sandwiches in bed, then… go get comfy, baby.”

As he turned towards the kitchen, humming under his breath like nothing had happened, you stood there, arms wrapped around yourself, watching him move.

Part of you was relieved. Another part of you, the wiser part of you, knew that this was just the beginning. This wouldn’t be the last time you fought… but stupidly, you ignored it. 

You pushed it down, forcing a smile when he glanced back at you before wandering off to the bedroom. Because for now, he looked like your Noah again, and you couldn’t bear to lose that just yet.

… 

Six months passed, and Noah was now halfway across the country on tour. You hadn’t seen him in four weeks, but you talked on the phone whenever you could, and he’d send you pictures of the venues he’d be playing at, telling you how he couldn’t believe they were here and how more than anything he wished you were here…

So you booked some time off work. You booked a flight and you packed a small bag. You didn’t tell him about your surprise visit, you didn’t text him all morning, because you wanted to see the look on his face!

The other guys knew, though. You had been texting Ruffilo all morning, he’d even managed to get Matt, their new tour manager and sound guy, to get a spare key to Noah’s hotel room so you could wait up there for him tonight after their show. 

And now you’d been waiting for almost an hour in Noah’s room, the air conditioning whirred, though it didn’t work, you were melting. His duffel bag lay half zipped on the floor, his stupid pair of grass flip flops poking out, and the bedside lamp cast the room in a soft warm glow.

You sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, checking the time again. The show had ended a while ago. You could picture the crowd, the noise, the way he always looked after playing- glowy, exhausted yet still buzzing with adrenaline. You smiled to yourself, rehearsing the way you’d surprise him.

When your makeup started to smudge from the heat in the room, you slipped into the bathroom to fix it. The mirror was fogged from the long shower you’d taken when you got here earlier, trying to wash off the travel fatigue. You were halfway through reapplying your lipgloss when you heard the door.

You heard voices, a high pitched giggle that certainly wasn’t him or one of his friends.

You froze. You felt the blood drain from your face, you felt like you’d been shot in the chest, your stomach sank all the way to the first floor. 

For a second you thought maybe one of the guys had the wrong room, maybe it was Nick and his girlfriend! …But then you heard his voice, and it was unmistakable. The tone was different though- careless, playful, unguarded, the kind of tone you hadn’t heard from him in a while.

You pressed your hand over your mouth. The room seemed to feel like it was closing in on you. There were muffled words, another laugh, then the sound of kissing… then the sound of the bedframe creaking beneath them. 

You didn’t need to see, you already knew what was happening. You’d already been here before with Harry when you caught him in your bed with another girl…

The mirror blurred as silent tears gathered, dripping onto the sink. Every sound from the next room felt like a knife to the heart, twisting further and further. You slid down to the cold tile, pulling your knees to your chest. 

You stayed that way, sobbing silently into your knees until the room went quiet again… until you heard the door open, until you heard your boyfriend tell the girl he had just fucked to get home safe. 

Noah ran a hand through his hair, smiling at Amelia as she left the room, shutting the door behind her. Noah hadn’t meant to bring her back, but he was drunk, homesick, and she reminded him of you…

He groaned, already starting to feel the regret seeping in as he reached for his phone on the dresser… to see texts from Nick?

Ruff: how was the surprise 😉

Noah: ?? what surprise?

A cold rush went through him. He was about to call Nick, when he sent another message. 

Ruff: y/n flew in this morning. she’s been waiting at the hotel for you dude

The phone almost fell from Noah’s grip as he spun on his feet, yanking the door open and rushing through the hall to find you, cursing under his breath. He didn't see you in the lobby?

When you were sure Noah had left the room, you took a deep breath, oicking your bag up from the bathroom floor and left too. You took the stairs instead of the elevator, gripping the railing tight because your legs felt like jelly. By the time you reached the parking lot, the night breeze felt like it might knock you over.

You found the guys' tour bus, you were only on here earlier talking to Matt before the show, when he handed you to key to Noah’s room. You knocked on the door softly, and Jolly came to answer it. 

“Hey! You made it!” He grinned, moving to the side to let you on. You thanked him, putting on your best fake smile, ready to lie.

“Yeah... I was waiting in the lobby for Noah but he hasn’t shown. I thought maybe he was here.”

“No,” Nick frowned. “He was going straight to his room, he was heading up there like twenty minutes ago-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head. 

“It’s fine. I guess I’ll have to surprise him in the morning.”

You sank into the couch next to Folio, wrapping your arms around yourself, pretending the chill was from the aircon and not from what you’d just lived through.

Moments later, the door burst open, startling you. Noah stood there, his face flushed, breathless, eyes wide.

“Y/n?” He looked so genuinely shocked, so relieved, that for a second your heart fluttered. “Oh my god, you’re here! Why didn’t you tell me?!!”

“Surprise.” You smiled, or took your best attempt at it.

He darted towards you and pulled you into his arms. And you let him. You even hugged him back, because breaking down now would mean admitting what you knew… it would mean arguments, not just between you and him but the whole band too, since you had a feeling they’d take your side. 

“Baby, you’re here.” He whispered against your hair, like he couldn’t quite believe it, “I missed you so so much.”

You closed your eyes, swallowing the sob that tried to rise.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Me too.”

You and Noah left the bus not long after, going back up to his hotel room, and as you stepped in the room, you felt sick to your stomach again. He walked in like nothing was wrong, smiling at you from across the room like he didn’t have another girl in here an hour ago. 

You smiled back. It was small and weak, but convincing enough that he didn't notice. He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around you again, and you let him. 

“God, I missed you so fucking much,” he said. “You have no idea.”

“Yeah,” you forced a soft laugh. “I missed you too… so how’s the tour been?”

He tells you about it all, about the crowd tonight, about how Matt had somehow messed up his in-ears, and about some interview they had lined up tomorrow afternoon. His words fade into background noise as your eyes wander to the bed. The sheets are messy. You tell yourself it’s fine, Noah always leaves the bed looking like that at home… but you knew the truth. You knew what he did here.

After getting ready for bed, Noah started to kiss you. It started with your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck… and as his hands started to wander below your waist, you stopped him. It wasn’t very often you did, but you couldn’t have sex with him tonight. You weren’t sure if you’d ever want to again. 

Instead, the two of you just cuddle. It only takes a few minutes for Noah to fall asleep beside you, snoring softly. But you lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, until the silence starts to crush you. Then you slip out of his arm and out of bed, careful not to wake him, and go into the bathroom.

The second the door closes, you break. The tears come so fast you barely have time to cover your mouth before the first sob slips out. You press your back against the door, your hands shaking as you press them to your face.

You try to breathe, but you can’t. You can’t even think. You’re just full of so much hurt, so much confusion, so much hate but still so much love. Your mind was all over the place, and you just didn’t know what the fuck to do. 

You don’t know how long you were in there for, crying quietly, but you decided to go back into the room, reaching for your phone as you sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through your contacts until you found Jolly’s name.

You: hey i know it’s late but are you awake? 

You hit send. The read receipt appears a moment later, then the typing bubbles appeared.

Jolly: yeah, what’s up? you okay?

You stare at the message for a long time before replying.

You: yeah. i just couldn’t sleep. i just needed someone to talk to

Jolly: what about? do you want me to call?

You: no, noahs asleep and i don’t want to wake him 

You: has he been acting weird lately?

There’s a long pause before Jolly replies. You can almost picture him sitting up in his bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, trying to figure out if this is serious or just you overthinking again.

Jolly: what do you mean?

You hesitate. You can’t tell him the truth, that you heard your boyfriend having sex with another girl. The truth feels too big, too humiliating. So you lied.

You: well… i saw him in the hotel lobby before i came to the bus and he wasn’t alone

You: he had a girl with him. tall, brunette, tattoos...

You sit there, staring at the message, your heart pounding in your chest. A small part of you hopes Jolly will confirm what you already know, that something’s wrong and he’ll confront him… but then he replied. 

Jolly: oh, y/n… i’m sure it’s nothing. 

Jolly: noah wouldn’t do that to you. he’s been talking about you non stop all tour… he probably just ran into a fan

You swallow hard. The words blur a little on your screen, because you would much rather believe that than the truht.

You: yeah. maybe. i just… got in my head about it, i guess.

Jolly: i get it. this life gets messy, but he loves you.

Jolly: that’s the one thing i’ve never doubted.

Your chest hurt. You type out thank you and delete it. Then you type it again.

You: thanks, jolly. i needed that.

Jolly: any time. now get some rest, okay? 

You: yeah. i’ll try. goodnight.

Jolly: night, y/n.

You set your phone down and stare at the wall for a long time. Jolly’s words stuck in your head- he loves you. 

You want to believe that. You want to believe the version of Noah you fell in love with, the boy who once tuned his guitar with trembling hands and blushed when you caught him looking was still the Noah laying behind you right now. 

But the Noah you knew wouldn’t sleep with another woman. 

You lie back down next to him anyway. You let him pull you close in his sleep, his arm around your waist. You tell yourself you’ll let this slip, just this once, because you love him too much to lose him.

And that’s the thought that finally lets you close your eyes.

…

Another three weeks later, and Noah was finally back. It was just past midnight when Noah turned his key in the door and stepped into your shared home. Rain tapped lightly at the windows, the only sound filling the space before he dropped his bags to the floor with a soft thud.

He let out a long, heavy exhale, like he’d been holding the breath since the start of tour. But it’s okay. He was home now. 

The place was dimly lit, just the lamp by the couch left on. His brows furrowed in confusion, but then he saw you, curled up under a blanket, your hair a little messy, one arm tucked under your cheek. The tv played something, though it had been muted, some old sitcom rerun you’d probably put on to fill the silence before drifting off.

He stood there for a long moment, just watching you. He started to feel everything fall back into place. Every part of him- the ache in his back from sleeping in his bunk, the ringing in his ears that still lingered after the last show, the exhaustion that almost had him falling asleep in Matt's car- it all started to fade away when his eyes fell on you. You looked peaceful, and it made a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. 

He moved through the home quietly, toeing off his boots, shrugging off his jacket. He wanted to wake you, to say I’m home and feel your arms around him, to feel your lips on his again, to tell you how much he’d missed you… but he couldn’t bear to wake you when you looked so soft like this.

So instead, he stepped a little closer to you, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face, which made you stir a little, sighing in your sleep and turning toward him. He smiled again, god, he’s missed you so much. He bent down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then straightened and headed for the shower. Oh, how he’s missed his shower. 

He took his time in there, like he was washing the weeks on tour away, then when he came back, his hair was damp at the ends, his grey shirt clinged slightly to his still damp chest and he wore a pair of black sweats. You were still there in the living room, still fast asleep…

Noah smiled to himself, then pulled one of the throw pillows down, slid into the narrow space beside you, and carefully shifted until you fit against his chest. You mumbled something in your sleep as you fidgeted, then your hand found his shirt and curled into the fabric. He let out a long breath, wrapping his arm around you, pressing his nose into your hair.

“I love you. I’ve missed you.” He whispered, though the words were barely audible.

Noah told himself he could leave the guilt of what he’s done on the road, you were none the wiser, so it didn’t matter. He hated himself for it, yes, but in the moment, he just couldn’t stop himself. He’s never had so many women throwing themselves at him… he didn’t really know how to tell them no.

… 

You woke up first the next morning, frowning a little when you realised where you were. You must’ve fallen asleep whilst waiting up for him last night, and instead of sleeping in a comfy bed, his own bed, Noah had joined you on the small couch. 

You carefully wiggled your way out of his grip and got up. You stretched your arms above your head with a little grunt, before heading into the kitchen to make a coffee. 

After about 20 minutes, Noah padded into the kitchen, hair a mess, eyes still sleepy. 

“Hey,” he said softly, voice rough from sleep. “You’re up early.”

“Mm.” You nodded once, not looking up from your mug. “Couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“Me neither.” He rubbed the back of his neck, moving toward the counter. “Were you waiting up for me last night?”

You hesitated, then looked up at him. 

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you when you got back.”

“Yeah?” He frowned, a little confused. “Talk about what?”

You swallowed, your fingers tightening around the mug. 

“Now’s not really the time. You just woke up. Let’s talk about it later… how was the rest of the tour?”

But Noah was already pulling out a chair, sitting across from you. His eyes searched yours, tired but alert now.

“No, I can tell by your voice something's wrong…” he said. “If something’s up, just tell me.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the words right on the tip of your tongue, but you tried to swallow them down and pretend everything was fine. You were about to shake your head and come up with an excuse… but this has been bothering you for weeks now. You couldn’t let it carry on. 

“...I think we need to take a break, Noah.” You said quietly.

The silence that followed was thick enough to drown in.

“What?”

You met his eyes, and even though your voice trembled, you kept going.

“I think we need space. Some time apart.”

His brow furrowed. 

“Why would you… we’ve just spent months apart! Baby, where is this coming from?”

You set the mug down with shaky hands. 

“Because I know, Noah… I know what’s been happening.”

He leaned back in his chair, disbelief flashing across his face. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He shook his head, his eyes growing dark in the way they did when you last fought.

“No, I don’t. You’re gonna have to explain that one, because you’re making it sound like-”

“Like you’ve been with other girls.” You said, looking him in the eye, watching the way his expression switched from stunned to angry in seconds. 

“No.” He denied, “That’s not true.”

You stared down at your hands. 

“Noah-”

“No,” he cut in sharply, his voice rising, “Don’t ‘Noah’ me. You can’t just sit here and accuse me of something like that out of nowhere. Do you have any idea how that sounds?”

“I’m not accusing you,” you said softly, trying to keep your cool, “I’m telling you what I know.”

He pushed up from the chair, the suddenness of it making you flinch. 

“No… you don’t know anything, y/n. Where did you hear that? Rumors online? Jealous fans? Because I promise you, people will say anything when you’re in a band. You can’t believe every-”

“This isn’t from online, Noah.” You interrupted, tears starting to blur your vision. 

And that stopped him. For a long moment, he just stared at you, like he could read your mind if he tried hard enough, so he didn’t have to ask…

“What does that mean?” 

You swallowed hard, looking away. You didn’t want to tell him you knew, that you heard him cheating on you with your own ears.

“It means… I just know. And if you’re getting this defensive, then you’re just telling me what I think is true.”

The anger in his face faltered, replaced by something that looked dangerously close to panic.

“No. You’re wrong,” he said again, quieter this time. “You’re wrong, I swear to god. I’d never-”

“Please, Noah,” you sighed. “Don’t lie to me. Not about something like this.”

He dragged his hands down his face, exhaling shakily. 

“You can’t just drop this on me, y/n. You can’t just… after everything we’ve been through-”

“That’s exactly why I have to,” you said. “Because I love you, Noah. More than I’ve ever loved anybody… but I just don’t feel respected anymore.”

His eyes went wide, and he stepped closer to you, shaking his head. 

“Don’t say that. Don’t say it like it’s over. You’re just… you’re still tired, or stressed, or-”

“No I’m not. I’m done pretending this is fine.” You said, “I just want us to take a break, Noah. A few weeks, or maybe months, long enough for you to work out what you want. If it is me, then we can try again, but if you’d rather spend your nights with groupies, then feel free to carry on. Just don’t expect me to stick around.”

“No…” He shook his head, “No, don’t do this. I can fix it, whatever you think happened-” 

You stood slowly, not looking at him as you spoke. 

“You can’t fix it if you won’t admit it. And I won’t take being lied to.” 

He looked at you like he didn’t recognise you, because you would never say these things to him, it’s like he was watching something precious slip through his fingers and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

When you turned away to grab his duffel from the hallway, he followed, his voice desperate now.

“What are you doing?”

“Packing you a bag.”

“No.” He shook his head, reaching for your wrist, then hesitating when you froze. “Please don’t do that. I can’t lose you, not like this. I’ll do anything you want me to, I’ll prove-”

“Jolly has a spare room,” you said, not listening to him as you walked through the bedroom, throwing anything of his that you could find into it. 

“You’re not serious…” He said, more to himself than you, “You can’t do this.” 

But you did. You had to.

You zipped up the duffel, set it by the door, and finally looked up at him. His eyes were red, his mouth open like he was still searching for the right words, but nothing came.

“If you want us to even have a chance of working through this,” you took in a breath. “You’ve got to go.”

He didn’t say anything, he just stood there, hands trembling, a look of disbelief on his face, his chest heaving like he’d just run miles. But he took the bag. And stepped out the front door. 

You didn’t think he’d actually do it, but when you heard the door shut behind him, you felt both relief and heartbreak. You finally let the tears fall, leaning with your back against the door as you sobbed into your hands. 

But you knew you had to do this. 

…

This was your first “break” of many. And it didn’t last long. Only a couple weeks later, Noah was at your door again. He showed up one rainy night, the bag he left with over his shoulder and an apology on his lips before you even had the chance to speak. He looked tired, worn down to the bone, you had never seen him look this bad… but when he saw you, his whole face softened.

“Can I come in?” He’d asked quietly.

You didn’t answer. You just stepped aside.

He told you everything that night. About how miserable he’d been, how he couldn’t stand waking up in that empty room at Jolly’s. How he missed your coffee, your laugh, even the sound of your humming as you brushed your teeth in the morning. You wanted to stay angry. You tried to. But when he broke down halfway through a sentence and said I just want to come home, something in you gave in.

And for a little while, it was good again.

He’d wake up early with you, make breakfast, kiss your forehead before you went to work. He’d text you photos from the studio, little updates, snippets of lyrics from the new album he was working on and you’d think, maybe this time it’ll be fine. Maybe we’ll work things out after all.

But then, slowly, the cracks began to show again.

It started small. The late nights again. The “I’ll be home soon” texts that turned into him sneaking in at 5am. You’d wake up and find him half asleep on the couch, reeking of vodka. He’d say he was just “unwinding after the studio,” and you’d try to believe him.

But then came the mornings where he didn’t get up at all. He’d sleep through noon, through your lunch break, sometimes through the entire day. The dishes piled up. Laundry went undone. You’d come home to it all, and you couldn’t help but feel a little angry at how you felt like he’d left it all for you to do after a long shift at work, whilst he was still in bed, the curtains still drawn.

At first, you didn’t complain. You told yourself he was tired. That he was just decompressing from all the touring, that all artists did this. But after a while, it was just impossible to ignore. 

One evening, you got home after a stressful day at work and walked into the kitchen and saw the sink full again, and the same stack of dirty dishes piled up on the counter next to it, that you’d asked him to take care of yesterday.

You sighed, rubbing at your temples. 

“Noah, can you please just do the washing up? I’ve done it all week.”

He barely looked up from his phone. 

“Yeah, I’ll get to it.”

“You said that yesterday.”

He huffed, tossing his phone aside. 

“Jesus, can you not start with me right now?”

“I’m not starting, Noah. I’m asking you to help me out. I can’t keep doing everything around here.”

“Everything?” He laughed, bitter and disbelieving. “You’re seriously acting like I don’t do anything. I’ve been busy, I’ve been working all week.”

“Working?” Your eyebrows raised. “Working? Noah, I’ve been working. You’ve been sleeping all day and drinking all night.”

“Wow. Okay. That’s all you think I do?”

“Look, I’m not trying to be mean,” you said quickly, your voice softening. “I just… I’m worried about you. You’ve not been yourself lately.”

“Haven’t I?” He scoffed, “Who else have I been then?”

“I don’t know, Noah. You don’t talk to me, you don’t help me, it doesn’t even seem like you’re here half the time… I feel like I’m living with a ghost.” 

He stared at you, giving a look that said are you being serious? Then, with a hollow laugh, he turned away. 

“Maybe I should just leave again, then. Get out of your hair. If all I’m doing is pissing you off.” 

“No, Noah, I didn’t mean that at all! I’m just saying-” 

“Nope, I get it.” He shook his head, “I get it.” 

You stared at him, your chest tightening.

“Noah, please don’t twist my words. I’m not saying you should leave, I’m saying-”

He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, shoving his arms through the sleeves with too much force, you felt a pit in your stomach.

“...That you’re sick of me. Yeah, I got it.”

“Noah.”

He wouldn’t look at you. His jaw was set, his shoulders stiff, like he was trying to ignore you.

“Please I just need you to listen to me for once.” You took a cautious step closer. “I’m trying to help-”

He laughed under his breath, the sound sharp and humourless, cutting you off. 

“You sure? Because, this isn’t helping me, y/n. I don’t know why you seem to have some kind of saviour complex, I’m a grown man. I don’t need you to help me. I never did.” 

That hit hard, and you felt your throat tighten. 

“Do you hear yourself? I’m the one cleaning up after you. I’m the one making excuses when you don’t show up at places you’re supposed to be. I’m the one watching you disappear a little more every day and pretending it’s fine because I love you!!”

He froze. The silence between you was instant and awful. His voice, when it came, was quiet and broken. 

“Don’t say you love me like it’s some kind of burden.”

“Then stop making it feel like one, Noah!”

He turned finally, eyes glossy, his hair falling into his eyes. 

“I’m trying, alright? I’m trying to keep up with all this pressure, the band, the fans, you!”

“Me?” you repeated, your voice small. “You think I’m pressuring now?”

“No, fuck, that’s not what I meant-”

“No. It’s exactly what you meant.”

He ran both hands over his face, pacing a short, restless line across the room. 

“I don’t feel like I can breathe around you anymore, y/n. Every time I walk in here, it’s like you’re waiting to pick apart something I’ve done wrong!”

You felt the tears prick at your eyes but forced your voice to stay steady. 

“I’m waiting for you to act like you still care. You don’t even try anymore, Noah. It’s like we’re together because it’s weird if we’re apart.. not because you love me anymore. You don’t even look at me unless you want something from me these days.”

“No,” Noah shook his head, “That’s not fair.”

“Then make it fair!” You snapped, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Do something! Show up for me the way I’ve always been showing up for you!”

For a second, the air went still. You could see him shaking slightly, anger and shame mixing together. Then, almost defeated, he said,

“Maybe I should just go.”

Your heart jumped. 

“No. Noah, no that’s not what I-”

“Yeah, it is,” he said, his voice rough now. “That’s what you want. You want me out of your way. You want me out of your life.”

This was the moment you gave up. All the patience, all the worry, all the trying, it just broke. You didn’t give a shit anymore. 

“Fine, then.” You huffed, “Do it. Leave. Walk out that door again, Noah. Leave!”  

He stared at you for a long, heavy moment. 

“...You don’t mean that.”

You swallowed hard. 

“No, I don’t want to mean it. But you just don’t fucking listen to me!!” 

You two fought all the way to the bedroom, you two fought as he packed his bag again, you two fought all the way to the front door. 

“Don’t bother calling me when you’re done throwing your fit.” 

You scoffed. 

“Why would I? Just get the fuck out, Noah. Before I say something I regret.” 

With a huff, he pulled the door open and stormed out, slamming it shut behind him. 

…

The slamming of the door startled you awake... it took you a moment to process everything. You were laying in a hotel bed, there was a wedding dress hanging up in the corner of the room... fuck. It was your wedding day.

You sat up slowly in the bed, blinking the sleep away from your eyes as the realisation set in. Youwere supposed to be happy, excited, you were marrying a good man, and everyone told you they were jealous. Mike was the kindest, softest, safest man you've ever met, he was everything you thought you needed after Noah... so why weren't you happy?

You swung your legs out of the bed, resting your elbows on your knees as your face fell into your hands. The morning light hit the sress just right, soft and white and perfect... but it made you feel sick.

Your phone buzzed a few times on the bedside table, messages from family members, bridesmaids and Mike all wishing you luck and sending you compliments. But you didn't care. You wanted Noah. You knew it was unrealistic, but you wanted him to come running in last minute, just in time to rescue you, but he had no idea bout the wedding, or so you assumed.

Still, you got up. You took a shower. You got ready. The hair and makeup artist turned up just on time, glamming you up ready for yout big day. Then your bridesmaids helped you into your dress, and it felt more suffocating than you remembered.

When you were ready, you took a look in the mirror... and you didn't recognise the woman staring back. She looked perfect. But she didn't look like you.

What would Noah say if he saw you like this? How would he react? No. You pushed the thoughts back down, reminding yourself of the heartbreak, the bad times, the nights he made you cry yourself to sleep... but it didn't change the way you felt.

There was 20 minutes. 20 minutes until you left the hotel to go the wedding venue, to stand in front of the man you were about to spend the rest of your life with and lie to a room full of people.

You stared at your reflection, the dress fit your body like it was made just for you. The veil framed your face perfectly. The makeup was flawless. Everyone would stare in awe and compliment you all night. But all you could think was how much you wanted to rip it off.

You pressed a hand to your stomach, fighting the nausea rising. The room felt smaller now, and the air thick enough to suffocate you. You tried to remind yourself that this was what you’d wanted- stability, safety. Mike had been good to you. He never raised his voice, never disappeared for days, never made you cry. He deserved someone who loved him the way he loved you. But that someone wasn’t you. And deep down, you knew it never would be.

You walked to the window, pulling back the curtain. Outside, you could see the city, cars, people who had somewhere to be, birds in the trees. For a moment, you just watched, your fingers trembling against the glass. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you turned, grabbed your phone and your bag, and headed for the door before anyone in the room could stop you.

The corridor was silent. Your heels clicked against the floor as you walked, your dress dragging behind you. You didn’t stop to think, didn’t stop to breathe. You just kept moving. By the time you reached the lobby, the receptionist watched in confusion. The doorman too. You ignored them both. You pushed through the glass doors and walked out into the street, the cold air biting your skin and sending goosebumps up your arms.

You raised a hand, hailed the first cab you saw. When the driver pulled over, he blinked at you, confused, eyes darting to the white dress, the veil, the bouquet still clutched in your hand.

“Uh… where to, sweetheart?”

You threw your flowers carelessly into the backseat as you got in, your voice barely above a whisper as you told him where you were heading. It was about 2 hours away, so you were surprised when he pulled off and started driving, leaving it all- the hotel and the wedding- behind you.

You sat in silence, watching the city you’ve learned to call your home blur past the window. It didn’t feel real, any of it. But you thought of Noah. His smile. The way he used to look at you like you were the only person in the world. The way you still caught yourself missing him at the most random times, when a song came on the radio, when it rained, when you smelled his cologne on someone else in the street.

You thought of how much he’d changed, how much you had changed, and how, somehow, the ache never went away.

By the time the cab finally slowed to a stop at your destination, the sky had turned a soft, hazy grey, like it was getting ready to rain. You paid the driver, gave him endless thank yous, and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

There it was. The same building. The same chipped steps. The same door you’d stood in front of years ago when you told him it was over.

Your old home.

Your heart pounded so hard you thought it might bruise your ribs. You smoothed down the skirt of your dress with trembling fingers. The satin of your dress rustling as you stepped towards the door.

You took one slow, shaky breath. Then you lifted your hand and knocked.

Once. Twice.

You thought about turning back. You thought about what you’d say if he opened the door, what you could possibly say that would make any of this make sense.

But before you could decide, you heard footsteps on the other side.

———————————