Chapter Text
In the midst of a swarming club, you manage to keep yourself afloat and centered at the bar. You’ve never really been quite the avid drinker and in spite of your relentless protesting, your best friend Zoey still managed to string you along. She promised you guys wouldn’t separate and the memory of the both of you chatting back at the house flits through your mind as you glance toward her on the dance floor; she twirls her short brown hair between her fingers while flirting with a stranger.
“Unbelievable,” you murmur, swishing your drink around in your glass.
You feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You pull it out, staring at a number you’ve never seen, just like the ten previous. You silence it, shoving it back into the pocket of your jeans, taking a small gulp of your gin and tonic. Your eyes wander the bar aimlessly and you have so much on your mind that the only thing you crave is numbness. You down the rest of your drink, requesting another from the bartender.
The empty space next to you fills but you don’t notice. Your gaze is locked on the liquor in front of you while your fingers ghost the ridges of the glass. You don’t even know where you want to be right now.
“Rough night?” The voice you’ve been trying to extinguish for good echoes from your right.
Startled, you stare at your ex-boyfriend Blake, watching his nostrils flare. He’s clearly upset, without a doubt by the neglect he’s been feeling despite you guys no longer being in a relationship. You don’t want to know how he knew you were here and how many more of his numbers you’re going to be burdened to block.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” he states as though it’s something clandestine.
You return your gaze to the glass sitting in your hand. “We aren’t together anymore. I don’t have to answer your calls. You need to leave me alone,” you reply.
Regardless of the flashing lights and blasting music, there’s an unmistakable billow of silence that ensues, causing you to lose some of your composure. You always felt the need to tiptoe around him through the course of your relationship and things still haven’t changed. There’s only one guy you know that you can trust and he isn’t here. You don’t want to need a hero. But your words and actions against Blake are futile.
“It’s Noah, isn’t it? Are you guys fucking?” he quips, growing more brazen by the second.
You whip your head to look over your shoulder, glaring at him. “Absolutely not! He’s my best friend. I told you that each time you doubted me. Now that we’re broken up and I’m clearly single, you still don’t believe me? I don’t know what I ever saw in you —”
You flinch the second his fingers clutch your face, squeezing painfully at your cheeks. Your hand flies to his wrist in silent protest as you’re muzzled, eyes pleading for release. His eyebrows scrunch together and his lips tighten the stronger his grasp becomes; so much so that his knuckles begin to pale.
Everything happens so quickly, you don’t get the chance to register Noah landing a punch against Blake’s face, sending him flying off of the barstool and onto the ground. You can see blood as it begins to run from his nose, over his lips. The stinging sensation pricking at your cheeks begins to numb as your focus starts to wane; the alcohol in your system only runs symbiotically to fuel the adrenaline ripping through your veins.
“Y/N,” Noah’s gentle voice rings in your ears as his careful fingers brush your jaw, attentive while assessing the red marks on your skin. “Are you okay?” he asks in a clear state of urgency.
It takes you a moment to realize that he’s even in front of you; that he’s real and not just a thought you had minutes ago. You look into his worried eyes, immediately drawn to the genuine lining of his chocolatey brown gaze. You wonder how Blake never looked at you this way when you were together, but Noah always did; always does.
“I’m okay,” you say breathlessly, suddenly feeling much safer in his presence.
“Good, that’s good,” he remarks, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “Just give me one second, alright Doll?”
You nod your head, not entirely sure what Noah’s plan is but you’ve always trusted his decisions. You watch tentatively as he turns around and you notice the instant shift in his demeanour. His eyebrows narrow and his jaw clenches as he leans over, gripping Blake by the collar of his shirt, pulling him off of the ground until he’s standing. There’s no sign of hesitation as he begins to drag him toward the entrance of the club as he trips over his own feet, clinging to one of Noah’s wrists.
“Noah!” You shout, slipping off of the barstool, stumbling from the alcohol.
Zoey catches you before you fall, making sure that you’re stable before she lets go. “You shouldn’t follow him, you could get hurt,” she mentions, brushing dishevelled strands of hair out of your face.
“No, he could get hurt, Zoey,” you warn her, trying to look beyond the crowd of dancing bodies.
“He knows how to take care of himself. Let me get you home so you can get some rest.” Zoey moves one of your arms over her shoulders and helps you through the back entrance.
You don’t have much energy to protest, not even with Noah’s wellbeing burning at the back of your mind. After you’re buckled in place in the back seat, you caress your cheeks gingerly, lost in thought. You wonder why you can never seem to be there for yourself. Someone always needs to help you and it makes you feel like a useless, pitiful puppy. One day, no one’s going to be there to help. It’s going to be up to you, whatever the given scenario.
You need to get a restraining order against him.
Are your cheeks okay? Do we need to see someone?
I never would have gotten with him if I were you.
Stop being so harsh. She’s clearly not in her right mind right now.
You only hear white noise as your eyes follow the moon through one of the windows. Is he okay? You know that he’s stronger than Blake but anything can happen outside of the club. What if one of Blake’s friends shows up? What if the police get involved and he’s taken to the station?
The cogs and gears in your mind continue to turn until eventually, they get a little bit quieter with each slow blink. You feel yourself drifting off, leaning against the window as your thoughts begin to fuel your exhaustion until the darkness overwhelms you.
You don’t realize that you’ve been carried into the house and placed on your bed until you stir, feeling familiar covers beneath your fingers. You can hear the soft echo of voices coming from the kitchen but your brain aches too much for you to go see. You see a shadow looming between the small crack left in your door and your heart picks up when you see the side of Noah’s face glowing from the orange of your salt lamp.
“Noah,” you say softly, rubbing at your eyes.
“Hey, Doll.” The closer he gets to you, you can see a split in his bottom lip and scrapes on his knuckles. You feel your heart pang in response.
“What happened?” Your voice is shallow as you reach out to inspect his knuckles with the little light you have.
“Nothing. You should see the other guys,” Noah says, flashing a smile.
Not even the sight of his beautiful upturned lips distracts you from his injuries. Your mouth stays in a straight line but your eyes start to well with tears as you begin to feel overwhelmed. He notices, reaching a hand out and placing it tenderly against one of your cheeks. You lean into it robotically, eyes fluttering at such a warm and comforting feeling. It’s amazing how all of your qualms seemingly drift away with such a subtle movement.
“Don’t cry. I’m okay. Everything’s okay. I don’t think you’ll be getting any visits from him anytime soon and if you do, please get a restraining order. I had to hold myself back this time but I can’t promise I will if this happens again. Do you understand?” Noah says, making sure that you’re looking him in his eyes.
You nod your head.
“I need you to use your words.”
“I understand,” you reply, mindlessly keeping your tired gaze aligned with his.
He smiles again, using the hand he has on your cheek to ruffle your hair. Aside from the faint resound of voices in the distance, the space around the both of you becomes silent as your eyes linger on one another. You reach a hand out, silently inspecting the small split in his lip with your thumb. Your eyes flit to his own and you can see the way he stares at your mouth. His desires are unmistakable but the remnants of alcohol in your system makes you wonder if you’re somehow hallucinating.
“Does it hurt?” You ask in a whisper.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I can hardly feel it,” he breathes.
“I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because of me. You had me worried sick and Zoey wouldn’t let me go after you. I was going crazy.” You stare at your lap as you spill your guts.
Noah hooks a finger beneath your chin, lifting your head so that your eyes align. The distance between the both of you seems much smaller but it’s hard to tell. You can usually tell what he’s thinking but right now, it’s nearly impossible to guess what’s going on inside of his head. What you do know is that his gentle touch feels so impossibly natural against your skin.
You take initiative, probably because of all of the gin and tonics you drank, and lean in closer, placing your hands on the thighs of his crossed legs. Your noses brush steadily and hesitantly. Your lips graze and he speaks.
“You’re tipsy,” he states, sounding breathless.
“You’re Noah Sebastian. One of my best friends. I want to kiss you. I want this,” you say, trying to advocate for your clarity.
You can feel the uncertainty through Noah’s breath as it fans your lips, only amplifying your desire to taste him. You bring your hands around his neck, clasping your fingers together, giving him a slight needy pull.
Noah runs his tongue over his lips, placing one of his hands against the side of your face. You’ve never seen him scared before. But right now, as he contemplates the possibility of ruining a friendship of five years, you can see the hesitancy in his narrow eyes.
You continue to slowly yet surely pull him down until you’re on your back and he’s hovering over top of you with both hands placed on either of your sides. You push some of his brown hair out of his eyes, innocently tracing the tattoo ink on his neck. He grabs your wrist, holding your hand in place as he stares deeply into your eyes.
“There’s no going back once we do this, do you understand?”
“I know. I know, just please…” you trail off, hating to sound so desperate.
Noah exhales, allowing himself to lean in. He’s slow and calculated, letting go of your wrist. The tip of his small nose brushes against your own and your hands find shelter in his hair where you tug very softly with urgency.
Your lips move chastely against his own until the distance closes completely. You sigh with relief into the kiss, letting out an almost silent whine of pleasure. One of his hands rests against your hip and his fingers breach the bare skin beneath your barely ridden up shirt.
The kiss feels so natural that it almost scares you but you focus on the way his lips feel like they fit so perfectly into your own. How Noah deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into the inside of your mouth, gliding it against yours.
It seems that years of unsaid want and hidden desires unveil themselves entirely in a matter of mere seconds as what was once reluctance turns into unadulterated exigency. You feel his fingers glide across your side and you shift in response, dragging your hands from his hair to his neck. You become breathless but the last thing you want is to be away from him.
But the sound of your bedroom door opening shocks both you and Noah as he climbs off of you and shuffles to the end of the bed, scratching his neck. You sit up, pulling down your shirt as you glance at Zoey in the doorway.
“No way,” she gapes.
You blink at her awkwardly, running your thumb across your bottom lip. “A little bit of privacy, maybe?”
She’s grinning and you can see it as she closes the door. You play with the corner of your blanket shyly, stealing glances at Noah who seems just as dazed as you are.
“Should I go?” he questions, looking over at you.
You shake your head instantly. “No. Please, don’t go. Can you stay? Unless… you regret it,” you murmur, looking at your lap.
Noah is across the bed, sitting in front of you almost immediately. He places his hand on your leg and you admire the tattoos running across the back of it as well as his long fingers. He’s so mesmerising that you nearly miss the softness of his voice and reassuring words.
“Absolutely not, I don’t regret it. I don’t regret anything.” His hand brushes below your chin as your eyes level.
You smile, feeling relief and you’re glad when you see his lips raise as the corners of his eyes crease in rapture. Despite how long you’ve been sitting on top of your feelings, wondering if they were simply platonic or romantic, you feel almost dumb at the thought that it could have only been the former.
“Stay with me tonight. Please.”
Noah smiles, clutching you carefully by your chin as he leans in slowly, placing another gentle kiss against your lips. “You don’t have to ask. I’m right here, Doll.”
You can’t help but smile back at him, hiding your face behind your hands. The prospect of the both of you being more than friends instils a feeling of exhilaration but also fear. You feel him shuffling beside you, tugging you down and pulling your back into his chest. You squeak, giggling as he wraps his arm around your midsection, making sure that you’re as close as you can possibly be. You play with his fingers, feeling his gentle exhales against the back of your neck. He leaves a kiss along your nape as you start to drift off.
“Sweet dreams, Doll.”
“Sweet dreams,” you hum, falling asleep with a smile on your face.