—Chapter 43—

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I don't think I'd ever made movements so slow in my life.

It was pretty early in the morning when I'd found myself waking up still in Noah's protective embrace.

He'd managed to fall asleep, passed out with his rosy lips parted open just slightly. The fever had made itself apparent through the night—his nose was flushed red, his puffy skin burned fiery hot, and his breaths sounded wheezy at the back of his throat. The dark shadows were still ever so present around his eyes.

Riding a motorcycle outside in the pouring wet and sitting for hours in soaked clothes would do that to you, apparently.

But I was worried about him. Between the stitches in his side and the fever running rampant in his body, I knew every part of him was in pain. He didn't have to verbalize it for me to understand.

Trying to get out of his hold that morning was a form of torture in itself. One wrong move would wake him from his much-needed rest, and Noah hadn't slept much at all in the last few days.

Carefully and precisely, I used my small frame to my advantage and slipped out from beneath his arms. Noah stirred at the movement—thankfully, though, he didn't seem bothered enough to wake up.

It was a few hours before I showered and got dressed in a fresh set of clothes. Escaping out of the apartment with a slice of toast between my teeth and keys jangling in my grasp, I went on a mission that morning to go out and find something to help with Noah's fever.

Jesse's homey little convenience store was my first pick.

The entire ride there was spent thinking about the scene from the night before. Taking care of Noah. Washing his hair. Sleeping in his bed.

How did we even reach that point?

I was so relieved that I'd been able to help soothe Noah's panic attack, and after helping him bathe the smell of alcohol off his body, I was more than ready to give Noah space to be alone. He'd been through enough, and I didn't want to bother him by extending my presence for more than what was necessary.

But he didn't seem to want that.

No, quite the opposite—he wanted me to stay.

He pulled me into his bed, wrapped his arms around my small figure, and didn't let me go. For whatever reason, he didn't want to be alone.

And all I wanted was for him to be okay.

I couldn't help the electricity that traveled down my spine when he traced his fingers through my hair. The gesture alone was so gentle. I found my eyelids growing heavy with every syllable that left my lips during our conversation, and when he kissed the back of my head, I melted completely in his embrace.

I couldn't remember what time I'd fallen asleep, but I knew that it didn't take long with Noah's fingertips running softly along my scalp. Nobody had held me like that in so long... treated me so well. There was no doubt in my mind that I'd drifted off last night with a small smile on my lips.

Noah himself must've passed out sometime after I did. We'd both gone to bed rather late, and the drowsiness at the back of my mind made it feel like I'd only slept for a few hours.

It was a rather nice day outside. The storm from last night had left the asphalt roads sparkling with the residue of rainwater, but the clouds had finally subsided. Sun rays shone down on my cheeks, and I took in the warmth gratefully, knowing that it wouldn't be long before Boston would fall into yet another bout of rain.

When I finally got down to the city where Jesse's supermarket was, I could already spot her in the window fiddling about at the register.

Though, before I walked in, my gaze caught on a sign plastered on the window.

The words in bold were enough for me to stick my head in through the door with a look of surprise on my face.

Catching Jesse's attention, I blurted out, "You're hiring?"

She chuckled.

"Hiya, youngster," Jesse smiled, kind eyes greeting me warmly. "Yes, that's right—my eyesight isn't what it used to be, truth be told. I figured I should get an extra set of hands around here to pick up the slack."

"Are you still taking applications?"

"Of course," she said. "Why? Are you interested?"

I bit the side of my cheek.

Moving to Noah's place had left a bit of a dent in my finances—I was more than grateful for his kindness, of course, but I'd definitely packed on a few more expenses lately.

Picking up a few more work hours was definitely a welcomed idea.

I preferred it over staying home. Like my mom always said: it was better to work hard and be tired, than do nothing and go hungry.

So I gave Jesse a resolute nod.

"I'd love to be considered," I said politely. "Did you need me to hand in a resume? I don't really have one on me right n—"

"Nonsense!" She cut me off. "Hell, kid, you come here so often you're practically family. Don't worry about the resume—you're hired."

A dumbfounded look crossed my face.

"Really?" I blurted out.

"Of course," she grinned. "It's not many hours so it shouldn't interfere with bartending at Joe's. And besides, it would be nice to have a familiar face around here."

"Are you sure?" I asked her. "I can drop off a resume tomorrow so you can think on it before you make a decision—that is, if you'd like me to."

Jesse thought for a moment. "I'll take the resume, but I don't think I'll be needing it. You've been coming in here since you were old enough to walk home from middle school. Hell, I basically know all there is to know about you, dear!"

A small smile graced my cheeks.

Heading down the health aisle, I quickly rested my focus on the medicines and bandages on the shelf. Painkillers, cough syrup, sore throat lozenges, bandaids... all of it seemed blended together in boring packaging.

I began picking out a few things while Jesse continued, "Oh, I can't wait to put you to work! A strong and capable man like yourself is sure to be a massive help around here. God knows those cases of soda are getting too heavy for my back..."

"I'd be more than glad to help out, Jesse," I assured her, settling on some medicines for fever and a box of gauze for Noah's injury.

"See, this is why I like you young people," she said. "Always so polite! Not like these crabby older generations—they're all so problematic. Too stuck in the old ways, if you ask me."

I said, "I'm sure they're not that bad."

"Psh," she said lightheartedly. "Of course you'd say that. I really envy how much of the good you can see in people, Elliot. You're just like your mother."

Or more and more my father's son.

I scratched the back of my neck and shook my head. The warmth of hearing my mom's name drew my focus away. It was nice to hear people talk about her—it reminded me that she hadn't been forgotten.

Heading down the tea aisle, I listened attentively to Jesse as she continued to ramble up at the counter.

I'd finished the last of the box of Redwin's that Noah had gotten me and I was already craving more. It was almost a stupid little addiction.

Finding a few boxes stacked on the shelf, I was sure to pick up two this time.

As I walked up to the counter with my armful of goods, Jesse asked cheerily, "Did you want to hand me your phone number? I'll give you a call soon and we can discuss the details."

I rested the items down before her to scan.

"Of course," I agreed. "Did you have a—"

But she was already ahead of me, pulling out a pen and a slip of paper.

Passing her a grateful nod, I took the pen and wrote down my details while she began checking out the things I'd bought.

"Bandages?" Jesse perked up in curiosity, holding up the box of gauze.

"Yeah," I said shyly. "My roommate hurt himself, so I thought it would be a good idea to have those handy. "

"How nice of you," she stated, bagging thee medicine, the tea, and the gauze. "I hope he feels better. It's gotta be quite a nasty injury if he needs bandages like these."

"It um, it looks worse than it is," I lied, passing the slip of paper and the pen back to her. "He'll be okay with a bit of rest."

"You said he's your roommate, is that right?" She asked me kindly. "So you've moved out from your parents' house?"

"Recently," I nodded. "It's really great. I thought it would've been daunting, to be honest, but... it's nice having a roommate. I don't have to be on my own."

Jesse gave me a considerate look.

"Oh, that's good," she said. "It must be a big step forward for your life, huh? I really hope it all works out for you, youngster."

"Thanks, Jesse."

I paid for the items and took the bag of goods from her, watching as a soft smile grew on her face.

"I'll be in touch, kid!" She chuckled. "Best of luck with everything; hope your friend's injury heals up soon."

I gave her a warm look and thanked her a few more times for the job before finally taking my leave, bag of groceries in my hand.

Something had gone in my favor today... and I couldn't help but find myself in a good mood.

"Noah? I'm home," I called when I walked through the front door to the apartment.

My words were met with silence, but I didn't question it as I went and left the groceries on the kitchen counter. The apartment felt cold. Rays of sunlight filtered in through the windows and refracted on stray raindrops, giving the space a comfortable glow. A scent of vanilla seemed to linger in the air. It was peaceful.

Fuckass had been sitting up on the windowsill, watching over the apartment with slitted eyes like a devoted guardian. It was nice to see her small face. I hadn't seen her in a while—she hadn't been around in the last few days.

While I messed about in the kitchen, she hopped down and came to weave between my legs.

I almost tripped twice before I finally found some cat food to leave down for her, which quickly drew her attention away from me. I got a grateful meow in response.

Clever cat.

Preparing a cup of honey-sweetened tea for Noah, I let it cool down for a few moments so that it was warm and not burning hot. His voice had been raspy the night before, so I figured it would be good to get something to help the soreness in his throat. I brought a cup of water, too—so that he could take it with the medicine I was struggling to balance in my full hands.

I took it to Noah's room, speaking up to let him know that I was there before pushing the door open.

It was still a mess, untouched from the night before.

The room was pitch black, and freezing cold. The curtains were drawn shut. The broken lamp rested at the corner of the room, surrounded by upturned drawers, littered clothes, and books. The heater clearly hadn't been turned on. Noah himself was buried beneath thick blankets—the only part of him that I could see were his dark locks of hair.

"Hey," I spoke up softly. "I'm back."

I didn't get a response until I awkwardly craned to hit the light switch with my elbow, finally illuminating the room so that I could actually see further than my nose.

An annoyed grumble filled the air, and a few words that were muffled beneath Noah's blankets.

I rested the water, bandages, and medicine on his nightstand, being careful to balance the warm tea in my hands.

Noah grumbled again.

"I can't hear what you're saying," I admitted.

He yanked the blankets off of his face and abruptly snapped at me, eyes squinted in annoyance. "Turn the fucking light off."

The tone of his voice caught me off-guard. It was hoarse—forced out through a clenched jaw. Raspy and incoherent, too, like the syllables were smashed together, probably because of the fever.

"Right," I mumbled. "I'm sorry."

A slow and heavy exhale left Noah's lips when I let the room fall dark again. Tilting his head back onto his pillow, Noah slowly ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed the palms of his hands against his shadowy eyes.

His movements were slow and precise, as if one wrong move would hurt him immensely. He looked to be in so much pain.

"Can you sit up?" I asked him quietly.

"I'm not dying," he muttered, and I had to try really hard to understand his jumbled speech. Passing a glance to the cup in my hands, he asked, "What is that?"

"Tea," I answered. "It'll help you feel better."

He stared at the cup for a moment, a slow blink the only motion in response to my words. Then, disinterested, he buried himself beneath the blankets again.

Shyly, I stammered, "I know I can't force you to eat but... you need to have something."

"Stop talking."

I bit the side of my cheek at the command.

"Please just drink it, Noah."

"I don't want your help, for God's sake!" He told me. "Just go. Pour it down the fucking drain or something. I don't care."

I found my fingertips curling slowly into my palms. We'd had this conversation the night before—that I was trying to repay him for the graciousness he'd given me by letting me stay here.

So why were my attempts just making him upset?

Holding my breath, I slowly came to rest the tea down on his nightstand, feeling a frustrated ache in the pits of my stomach. Perhaps he'd change his mind on it later.

"I'll leave the painkillers if you need them," I uttered, voice barely above a whisper. "Sorry, I'll... get out of your way now."

I ignored the painful notches I'd left in my hand and turned my back on him to leave.

But I didn't get far.

With the quick rustling of sheets and a strained grunt, I felt a smooth hand abruptly take hold of my wrist. Pulling me backward, I took a few startled steps until my calves hit the bed—collapsing my body down on the mattress beside Noah.

Breathless, I watched with wide eyes as Noah put his weight over me and settled his figure between my legs. Resting on my torso, he wrapped his arms around me in a tight embrace. His head was positioned soundly on my stomach, and his face was nuzzled into my dark shirt.

That seemed to be what he wanted.

I couldn't understand. One second he was ignoring me, the next he was pissed off, and now he was holding onto me like he was afraid I'd disappear.

Noah said something indistinctly in the midst of my confusion.

He murmured, "I'm sorry."

My eyes widened. I wasn't entirely sure if heard him correctly.

Noah's tired eyes were closed and his lips were parted slightly, with his arms wrapped around me in a comfortable embrace while he rested on my torso. I could see just how flushed his cheeks were, the puffy redness beneath his eyes, and the thin sweat at his temples.

My mouth opened to speak.

But I realized that I had no idea what to say. The scene had left me utterly bewildered.

"Stay," Noah whispered to me. His tone was strangely fragile. "Please don't leave."

Where would I go?

I slowly moved my hands and threaded my fingers through the tresses of his dark hair. It was soft, like the lush vanes of an ivory feather. Thick, too. Caressing him with tender care, I gently massaged his scalp with the tips of my fingers. Dark locks fell down the sides of his forehead—I brushed them to the side.

He melted under my touch, quickly falling silent. My heart was racing in my chest. Goosebumps ran up my arms and left my hairs standing on end. There was something damning about the fuzzy emotions that were running through my mind.

"I know that you're going through some things right now," I began, picking my words carefully. "But I just don't want you to forget about your health."

The exhale that left his lips was painfully slow.

Noah didn't seem to care about it half as much as I did. He pouted, "If I drink the fucking tea, will you stop talking and go back to playing with my hair?"

I figured that was his grumpy, yet not-so-subtle way of saying he enjoyed me massaging his head. Nodding slowly, I chuckled, "Sure."

While I reached carefully for the mug, Noah sat himself up slightly and furrowed his brows in silent frustration.

I handed it the cup to him, watching the critical look that crossed over his tired eyes.

"What's in it?"

Amusement tugged at one side of my lips. "Um... honey?"

He held it to his nose and pursed his lips. "Why does it smell like that?"

"Are you going to keep asking questions?"

He mumbled, "Well, you're not trying to poison me, are you?"

"Oh, for the love of God," I said, "drink it, or I'll pry your mouth open and force it down your throat."

"Jokes on you... I'd probably enjoy that."

I gave him a pointed look and Noah smiled, offering me a cheeky glance. He hesitated for a spare moment, but finally conceded, chugging most of the tea down in one go.

Relieved, I told him, "See? That wasn't so bad."

"It could've used a shot of something."

I said lightheartedly, "I'm starting to think you have troubles with your alcohol."

"I do not," He scoffed, feigning offense. "Me and alcohol are great friends."

At least he still has the energy to be sarcastic? I thought to myself, both at ease and a little entertained by Noah's comment.

Noah finished the rest of the tea and carelessly left the cup somewhere on the bedside table, sinking back down and flopping his head on my stomach. "Happy now?" He muttered.

"Very."

"Great," he said. "I've got a migraine hammering away in my fucking skull, so I'm begging you: sit here and stay quiet. Please."

I caressed Noah's hair with my fingers and happily complied with his request.

For an hour or two, I sat in silence while Noah found some semblance of rest on top of me. His breathing slowed and he made little to no movements, but I knew he wouldn't be able to sleep no matter how hard he tried.

He seemed weirdly soothed by the gesture of me playing with his hair. Whenever I stopped to give my hands a break, he would grumble quietly and refuse to stop until I went back to playing with it again. He was like a puppy. Like a stray dog.

I smiled. What a bad joke.

"Can I ask you to do something for me?" Noah asked quietly, after spending a little while resting on my stomach.

I gave him a nod, happy to help.

"There's something I need to pick up from an acquaintance of mine. Their name is Sage," he spoke. "It's on a rough side of town, so I won't force you to go, but... I'd really appreciate it if you would."

I thought about it for a minute.

"What is it that I'm meant to be picking up?"

"Just... medication," he said, though I wasn't entirely convinced by the tone in his voice. "I said I'd be around to pick it up tomorrow but I can't really do anything in the shape I'm in. But... like I said, you don't have to do anything if you don't want to."

I couldn't tell if Noah's docile demeanor had lulled my senses and made me complacent, but I couldn't help but feel obliged to help him. I would do anything he wanted when he was gentle like this.

"I'll do it," I said, agreeing to the request.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."