It was eerily quiet when you entered the house. It was clean, but evidently unlived-in during the tour. The sink was empty, counters layered in a soft, thin blanket of dust. Wandering further, the throw pillows on the couch were untouched, the blanket strewn haphazardly off the edge of the cushions and on the floor between the couch and the table. The glass coffee table also displayed a dusted surface, but other than an unlit candle, there was nothing else on it.

The house looked almost abandoned, were it not for the white, clean aesthetic of the home itself.

“Noah?” You called out, his shoes were on the mat in the foyer, so he was definitely here. You peered around the corner from the main room, leading off to the hallway where a bathroom and bedroom was.

No light from the downstairs bathroom.

Jolly had said Noah seemed intensely focused on getting home, even as they were doing clean up after their final show. He seemed almost rushed, like something— or someone— was waiting on him, he was abnormally impatient for something more than just getting to sleep in his own bed.

Despite their worry though, Noah was nowhere to be seen.

So much for impatience, I guess…

You’d known Noah since you were kids, Nicholas had introduced him to you and you’d both been hesitant at first— Noah was more of an outgoing, giddy, ecstatic little boy… But you? Way more introverted. Truthfully, when you’d first met the singer, you were almost concerned because— ‘how can anyone have that much energy and still be living?’.

Noah and Nick still laugh at that, an inside joke between you three that makes you want to toss them off a cliff just to see the priceless looks of bewilderment and betrayal on their stupid faces.

Nicholas had reached out first, it was in the days coming up to their last show of the tour, asking if you’d heard from Noah. You’d replied no, of course, Noah liked to check in, sure, but he wasn’t really focused on much aside from touring when he was on the road. No deep conversations, no revelations, it all waited until he came home, Nick knew that, and it was precisely why you were so worried.

He’s different, nobody knows if it's good or bad but we’re all concerned and he keeps brushing us off.

Nick was always concerned about Noah, it was just in the nature of their friendship, but you could easily tell there was something more than just baseline anxiety. You’d thought about it for a while, in those few days before their last show. But, it wasn't until the morning of that, you too, had become concerned.

Awakening to a text from Jolly.

You need to figure out what's up with him, he’s impatient and he’s being careless.

No context, just straight to the point that there was something wrong.

Now he had you thinking, you hadn’t heard from Noah in almost two weeks— it did feel longer than normal. It was, actually. The longest you’d go without talking with Noah was maybe four days? Nevermind two weeks.

You’d asked Jolly if he could tell what was wrong, but all you got was a ‘he’s not himself’.

Not exactly helpful. 

Matt ended up texting you after the show, too, pointing out the implicities of Noah’s actions. He was all over the place, trying to do things ‘as fast as humanly possible’, according to Dierkes. Rushing through everything, even soundcheck— which everyone knew he was extremely anal about. The constant gnawing on his lip, apparently everyone was waiting for him to have a gaping divot on the left side of his bottom lip. Even his sleep was off— more than just jet-lag or exhaustion. Even on hotel nights, he was barely sleeping by the end of tour, the bags under his eyes rivaled a ‘fucking thunderstorm’— in Matt’s perspective.

It all had you frantic, truthfully, especially when Jolly said he was going straight to Sweden for two weeks to see his family, essentially leaving Noah alone— aside from you. You didn’t blame him, just wished he could explain more about what was going on with the singer before you had to drag said man out of his cave of silence and internal thoughts.

Despite the feeling of being blindsided, the moment you got out of work, you were at Noah’s doorstep, letting yourself in when there were no lights on, no sign of life despite it only being 7 p.m..

“Noah?” You called again, listening intently for any hints of a living Noah somewhere in the home.

Silence

Sighing, you quietly stepped up the stairs, the boards barely creaking under your wake, yet you were hyper-aware of every sound that came from your movements. The only ray of hope was the shut door of Noah’s room. Although no light shone from under the entry, it was enough to know he was here.

Slowly, you made your way towards his room, gently knocking your middle and ring finger knuckles against the panels of his door. A grumbled, agitated sound resonated from the room, and a quiet—

“Who the hell…”

“Noah..?” You murmured, just barely loud enough for him to hear as your forehead rested against the raised wood. Slowly, the door was pried open, revealing a half-naked Noah, shirt seemingly abandoned and dressed in only a pair of grey sweatpants. Rubbing his eyes, he took you in, briefly confused before a silent recognition played on his face.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

He whispered your name like you weren’t there, like he was imagining you.

He looked lost.

“...Noah..?” You tried again, raising your hand like you were going to touch him, but backed off, stuffing it in the pocket of your zip-up jacket.

“I—” He cut himself off, still just staring.

Something was definitely off, even when he was exhausted, he never looked so withered. Even when he was burnt out, when he just barely managed himself, nevermind the weight of the world— he never looked like this.

He hovered, confused and shocked. Noah uttered your name again, and all you could do was nod, giving in.

Reaching your hand out, you placed it firmly on his chest, right over his heart. His skin was warm, heated to the touch, and he visibly relaxed at the feeling of your hand.

“Noah—”

“..why….’re you here..?” He mumbled, eyes tracing the planes of your face, searching, trying to get even the weakest grasp on reality.

“Everyone’s worried… and dammit I am too..” You shuddered under his gaze, voice both firm and heart-wrenchingly concerned. All he could do was nod and stare. Deciding to take the initiative, you pressed a little firmer, and he went willingly, backing up into his room with you entering right before his eyes.

Your name fell from his lips once more, and all you could do was frown, furrowing your brows as he went pliant to your will.

“What happened, Noah..?” You asked softly, finally nudging him to sit down on his bed, standing just barely out of his reach. “You’re…. Out of it, like— a lot, really outta it.”

Instead of responding to your troubled question, he reached for you, whispering your name over and over under his breath. “..it..” His voice was choked as he managed to grasp the hem of your sweatshirt. “‘s you..?”

“It's me, Noah.” You nodded softly, stepping further into his space, until you were close enough for him to pull, and pull he did.

You went with him, allowing him to grab you and tug you into the spot between his spread legs, and bury his face in the lower part of your chest. He nuzzled into you, breathing you in, and all you could do was run your fingers through his hair, opposing hand splayed out across his upper back, tracing lines across his shoulderblades and neck.

Your face felt hot the moment he buried himself against you, but any embarrassment was overshadowed by the way he clung to you so desperately.

“Want— wanted t’ see you…” Noah mumbled, wrapping his arms around your midsection. “...so bad..” His voice was so soft, so quiet.

“‘m here, Noah.” Your words matched his own, airy and gentle.

A sniffle, and a stuttered murmur against your clothing was all you needed to break. Any shred of composure faltering as he trembled in your grasp.

“Missed you—” He choked out, pulling back just enough to look up at you. “Wanted.. t’ see you… so much…” His words left you speechless, he’d been on longer tours than this one and was fine, he’d gone two whole years without seeing you in person when he and Jolly moved out to L.A., you, Nicholas, and Nick all staying in Virginia.

“I’m always here, Noah, okay..?” You soothed, cupping his jaw softly, just letting him have. “What happened… if you wanna talk to me.”

You knew how easily Noah could shut down when it came to being vulnerable, giving him room to breathe, to feel was one of the most important things you’d learned he needed.

A little tug brought you back from your thoughts, Noah staring up at you, eyes glistening, but the tears weren’t forming. Yet. He looked like a small child, desperate for comfort. “Want… want you t’ stay.. Please?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him no— you're not sure anyone could. Even if you had to work tomorrow, even if you had to be up early, even if you hadn’t eaten since 2 and your stomach was growling.

You're not sure if you could ever tell him no.

“Of course, Noah.” You whispered, bringing your forehead to his. Those beautiful brown eyes fluttered out of view as his eyes shut, his lashes shining with unshed tears. He slowly detached himself from you, and you urged him up further onto his bed, kneeling beside him as he shuffled under the comforter with lidded eyes. “I’m right here.”

He nodded, but he remained staring at you, lips slightly parted, gaping as if he wanted to say something.

You knew what he wanted before he had to say it. Slowly, you peeled yourself out of the sweatshirt and the hoodie you’d worn underneath to keep warm, and then untied your boots— luckily not dirtied. Setting your discarded clothing on his gaming chair and boots by the wheels, you turned back to him, adorned in a simple navy blue turtleneck and a pair of tan khaki pants from work.

“Stay..?” He voiced finally, just as you lifted the covers and climbed in beside him.

“‘m right here, sweets.” You murmured, cupping his cheek in your palm, resting your head against his pillow. He shuffled closer, curling into your body until his obnoxiously long legs knocked against yours, and his fingers were pinched into your shirt. Calmly, you soothed a hand through his locks, growing longer past his ears with each day.

The pleasant hum that sounded from him gave you the confidence you needed to ease him until he was flush with your body. Your legs tangled in his, and his head tucked into your chest with your head resting on his. His arms looped around you as he sunk into the feeling of your body pressed against him. Your hand curled in his hair and cupping the back of his neck was enough to get him settled in your arms.

“Thank you..”