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You drape your legs with your favourite blanket, propping a bowl of popcorn just next to you. You reach infrequently, placing a small handful into your mouth as you scroll through Netflix, trying to figure out what to watch. It’s the weekend and as depressing as it sounds, this is your idea of ‘doing something fun,’ meanwhile everyone else is probably out drinking. You quit a long time ago.
When nothing seems to cater to your interests, you try switching between different streaming platforms until settling on Supernatural for what must be the fifth time in a sad yet also arguably impressive span of one year. You lean back into the couch, snuggling in closer to your blanket. Your eyes glue to the TV, just like they have always done when the Winchesters are on screen.
You reach over for another handful of popcorn, jolting in place when you hear a rushed knock on the door. You lurch forward, trying to save the bowl from hitting the ground. But it does just that, bursting all over the living room’s hardwood floor.
“Shit,” you mutter, staring at it solemnly.
When yet another knock resonates within the walls of your quiet home, you toss the blanket to the side and head towards the front door. You glance through the peephole before pulling it open.
“Noah?” You question, gaping at the sight of cuts and bruises on his face.
Noah looks behind himself, to the left and right. He doesn’t seem to be too badly hurt. But strands of wet, brown hair falling into his eyes makes him that much harder to read. “I had nowhere else to go,” he states.
You bite the inside of your cheek, briefly thinking back to the time when you were both young adults. You’ve seen each other since then of course, albeit not often. It almost feels like second nature to avoid him. So your father would be upset if he knew you were letting him into your home.
“Come inside, I’ll go get some towels.” You step to the side, letting him in.
Noah stands idle in the entryway as you make your way to the hallway closet. You have your hands on a couple of towels, holding onto them tightly as you exhale quietly, closing your eyes. Him showing up on your doorstep all beat up brings back so many memories that you’ve tried to keep buried beneath the new ones you’ve tried to make with others. But it never seems to be as easy as that.
After you make it back to the entryway, you stop in your tracks reluctantly, eyes wandering towards Noah’s bare torso. His hoodie and shirt are in a pile on the ground, leaving a sopping mess on your hardwood floor, but you’re too distracted by the art on his skin to notice. You also fail to notice him noticing you as you look at him without caution.
“Y/N,” he says.
You shake your head, feeling like a complete and total idiot as you walk over to him, handing off the towels. “They’re clean.”
Noah’s lips lift at one of the corners as he begins to dry himself off. While doing so, you wander towards the open living room, cleaning the popcorn that got spilled. As you sit here, feeling stupefied in your own home, you realize how much of an impact he still has on you. It was never a doubt, but you always had a voice in the back of your mind saying that it was too good to be true. And it was. It is.
“The bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right. I’ll see if I can find anything of mine that fits you,” you say, keeping your attention on the popcorn. “We’ll look at your face once you’re out.”
You don’t hear anything from Noah until the sound of the bathroom door closes. Your entire body relaxes automatically, but your mind is on some kind of nonstop gyration. It makes you wonder if he’s been in the same headspace as you’ve been during all of these years.
The moment the water begins to run, you’ve finished cleaning your mess. You head towards your bedroom, opening your closet. Biting gently on your lower lip, you push every top you own to the left, revealing one of Noah’s old hoodies. You try to tell yourself you don’t know why you held onto it, even though every possible excuse is undermined by the way he still seems to make you feel. You pull it off of the hanger, hoping that it still somewhat fits him.
As you make your way back down the stairs, you realize that still having one of his hoodies could entail a lot more exposure than you’ve prepared yourself for. You think about opening the door to the bathroom, but the last thing you need is seeing Noah with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. You sit on the living room couch instead, keeping the hoodie in your lap. You settle into the soft cushions, tugging the blanket back over your thighs as you continue your show, hoping that it’ll distract you.
You aren’t sure how much time has passed as you play with one of the hoodie strings, attention fixed on your show as the bathroom door creaks open. His figure rounds the corner and you can see his still bare torso in your peripheral. The spot next to you dips as he takes a seat, leaning into the back of the couch.
“You still have that?” Noah asks.
You glance at the hoodie. “Don’t worry about it,” you say, tossing it to him. “It might still fit you.”
Noah smirks, sending a subtle glance in your direction. You see a specific glint in his eyes that you know all too well, watching as he slips the hoodie over his body. It’s definitely tighter, hugging his sides more militantly. But it still seems to fit just fine.
“It smells like you,” he adds.
You shrug your shoulders. “I haven’t worn it for a long time. It’s just been sitting in my closet with all of my other clothes.”
Noah doesn’t say anything. You look over at him as he studies his knuckles. They look like they’ve been scuffed up by a potential fight. Your eyes then travel over the rest of his body; mostly his face where there’s a few scrapes and bruises. They don’t look too bad, thankfully.
Aside from his lesions, you find yourself admiring his beauty. The sharpness of his jaw and his slender, small nose. Lips soft and sweet, complimenting the naturally alluring shape of his narrow eyes. It’s been awhile since you’ve been this close to him, mindful of the beauty marks and an old scar on his cheek from when you guys were younger. You’re reminded of the shrouded freckles on his shoulders, realizing just how attentive you still are to his presence, even when not present.
“You’ve gotten more tattoos since I last saw you,” you say as you make your way into the kitchen, searching beneath the sink for a medic kit.
“A lot has changed since you last saw me,” he says.
You glance over at him as he stares at the TV. Despite his usual playful demeanour - the demeanour that you’re used to, he seems different. He’s bound to be, since he’s evidently grown since then. But you made yourself believe that it was never possible. Not because you wanted to, but because your father did.
Once you sit back down on the couch, you place the medic kit on the table. You glance back over at the side of Noah’s face, bringing your fingers up to his cheek. You dance them along the slight discolouration of red, noticing his jaw twitch in response.
“What happened? Who did this to you?” You ask.
“I just got into a fight with a stranger. It’s nothing,” he replies stiffly.
You frown, not wanting to push much further. If your father was in the room, he would say ‘old habits die hard.’ You can almost hear it in his voice as you nurse Noah’s scuffs quietly, wondering how disappointed he would be in you if he knew that he was still in your life.
“I’m sorry for just showing up out of nowhere. I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t know what else to do,” Noah says, suddenly turning to look at you.
Your focus shifts from his mouth to his brown eyes as he studies your complexion, undoubtedly trying to dissect your thoughts. Your arm falls to your side and you peer down at your lap, struggling to look at him when he’s so close; afraid that he might just see right through you.
“I will admit, I was surprised to see you on my doorstep. But I’m glad you’re here,” you state. Silence ensues and you look up, realizing your mistake. “I mean… I’m just happy that you’re okay, given the circumstances.”
Noah doesn’t say anything, seemingly fixated on everything but your words. He looks over your entire body - it almost feels like how a predator sizes its prey before lunging at it. Except there’s something innocent about it - save for the evident flair of undeniable sexual tension. You can’t remember the last time he looked at you this way. You just remember that the last time he saw you before things fell apart, there was nothing but melancholy drifting within his beautiful eyes.
“Noah?” You call out to him, hoping that maybe he’ll snap out of it.
“…I miss you,” he confesses.
You feel like your brain starts to short circuit as you process his declaration. Any part of you wonders if it’s some kind of joke but as you study his face for any indication of falsity, all that can be seen is the truth. This was the last thing you expected to happen tonight.
“Noah…” you murmur, trying to keep yourself distracted with the blanket. You feel a finger hook beneath your chin and you’re forced to look at him.
“I know what you’re gonna say. I’m bad for you, and I get that. Your dad drilled it into my brain. But I can’t stop thinking about you, or what we used to be,” Noah says, moving his hand from your chin to tuck your hair behind your ear.
Your eyes flutter closed as his fingertips graze your cheekbone, leaving a trail of desire in its wake. Memories of all kinds come rushing in, but more notably those of you caring for him after his fights. You could never find it in yourself to blame him - not that you ever wanted to. His childhood lacked a lot of the essential and basic needs of a growing child: love, care, patience, just to name a few. You felt comfort in knowing that you could be the source of some of those things.
“We didn’t walk away from each other because we wanted to. We had no choice. And I beat myself up every day because of it,” Noah adds, moving his hand to your cheek.
You sink into his touch almost instantly, missing the way his hands feel on your body. You shouldn’t let yourself get swayed so easily, but you feel powerless against your heart when it comes to him. You allow your fingers to slide over his knuckles as you lay your own hand over his, silently yearning.
“Do you miss me?” he asks.
You open your eyes, unprepared for the way he’s admiring you so earnestly; like you’re the only star in a sky full of clouds. Of course you miss him. You miss him even when you don’t know it, or when you’re trying to forget he was ever a part of your life. The estrangement of it all has never once abandoned you, left to billow in your thoughts.
“…I still have your hoodie,” you reply quietly. His gaze softens with reassurance.
Noah’s hand glides down your face slowly until he has your chin gripped between his thumb and finger. You watch as his eyes flicker from your own to your lips. His desires seep from his pores and he inches closer to you bit by bit until your legs are touching. You feel a spark reignite.
Despite your mind telling you to back away, you do little to escape his advances. You brush his brown hair behind his ear, silently inviting him into your space as you keep your eyes locked onto his.
Noah begins to lean in slowly, placing his other hand on your thigh. You feel his hot breath ghost your lips, and then his own as they brush against yours. Ignorant to the state of your breathlessness, you feel like you’re infused with a dose of relief the second he kisses you. It’s clear to you now just how much you yearned for him as you feel his hands glide against your sides - as his tongue urges between your lips and into your mouth. Your fingers seek purchase in soft strands of hair that you tug on softly but with urgency.
It doesn’t take long before you’re on his lap, straddling his legs as he leans into the back of the couch, teasing your bare skin with eager fingertips as his hands creep beneath your shirt. You inch closer to him, deepening the kiss as he grabs your waist, keeping you still.
His lips leave yours to drag against your neck. He leaves open, wet kisses along the side of it as you squeeze at his shoulders, head lolling to the left in response. Your heart beats into your ribcage rapidly as you chase the thrill of his touch, relishing every second he’s close to you. It feels like a dream you never want to wake up from.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles into your skin.
You bite into your bottom lip, tugging on it gently as you let his praises consume your mind. As you let all of him consume you. The hold he has on you has never left and you’re convinced that it never will.
Noah eases your back against the couch as he eclipses your smaller stature, one hand up your shirt, grazing the softness of your stomach with his thumb. He’s diving deeply into your eyes and it makes you wonder just what exactly he’s looking for. You reach one of your hands towards his face, sweeping your thumb against his lips.
“…I’ve never stopped loving you, Y/N.”
His confession stirs everything you’ve hoped to keep dormant. As your eyes well with tears, you reach around Noah and pull him into an embrace. Against his ear, you whisper back to him, “I’ve never stopped loving you, either.”