Chapter 13 Gabe
GABE
I haven’t stopped thinking about the moment the bookshelf collapsed yesterday.
The day has gone by in a haze, and I was barely able to concentrate on getting anything done with that moment constantly infiltrating my thoughts.
It’s not the sound, or the mess, or even my own spiral that I keep focusing on, but the way Noah handled it.
Not with panic or awkward silence. Just an unwavering presence.
Quiet, steadfast reassurance. He didn’t touch me, didn’t try to pull me out of it before I was ready.
He was so patient and kind with me, speaking softly and giving me comforting words. His voice cut through the memories invading my mind, like a life raft when I was drowning.
I like the way Noah speaks to me. His voice has this pull to it, steady enough that I found myself matching my breathing to his without even trying.
It’s not something I expected from him, that hidden quiet depth beneath the sunshine exterior. I don’t think he shows that to everyone. Or maybe most people just don’t look.
I smile as I think of his kind words and warm eyes. Something tilts inside me, like I’ve been leaning the wrong way for a long time and just found my balance. It surprises me how easy it feels. It’s a draw. A sense of safety so strong it’s startling.
I trust him. He makes me feel safe.
It’s a similar feeling I have toward Abbie and Ciarán, like we’re linked somehow. I feel that same connection with Aiden, but with him, there’s another layer, it’s familial, too.
With Noah, it feels… different. More. Maybe it’s because he saw me in that moment. All the ugly parts I hide. I shouldn’t be surprised; he’s been in my life such a long time now, but I finally feel like I’m getting to really know him. He’s becoming mine, one of my safe places.
I’ve had a few panic attacks over the last year, but I’ve always been alone when they happen.
Sometimes something triggers it, other times it comes out of nowhere.
It can be everything and nothing at once.
Dealing with them alone was hard, hiding how much they affected me.
I don’t need to hide that from Noah; he saw it all, and he stayed.
I don’t know which of us was more shocked by me hugging him this morning.
But it felt right. He was there for me, and he treated me no differently after.
Didn’t make me feel like there was something wrong with me.
It’s been years since I clicked with anyone outside of my inner circle.
I’m friendly to most, but I never let them get close enough to see those damaged parts of me.
I should probably feel embarrassed that he saw me like that, but it’s hard to cling to it when he looks at me the way he does. As if he actually likes being around me, and I don’t really understand why.
I keep thinking about the tip of his compass tattoo peeking out from his top, the little N showing.
I had the strongest urge to pull the neckline down and look at it.
Without thinking, I dipped my head until my nose brushed it.
It was a strange compulsion. The contact felt incredibly intimate, touching that piece of him that connected us through distance and time.
My heart thunders thinking about it. This isn’t the usual feeling of anxious panic, though, it’s… I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t feel bad. It feels bright, vivid.
I want to know how the gym opening is going.
Does he have that beaming smile on his face all day?
Is he nervous? He’s always so confident, I can’t imagine him being nervous, but I know there’s depth hidden under that.
I take my phone out a few times to text him, but I’m not sure what to say, and I don’t want to bother him if he’s busy.
By the time I’ve closed the shop, I feel raw from the last two days. I wander up to the apartment and kick my shoes off by the door. They land at odd angles, one half on the mat, one off.
Normally, I’d fix them. Not because it matters to me, but because somewhere along the line it became a habit, drilled in by someone else until it was automatic.
There are a lot of those. Keys had to be left in the exact same spot. Towels folded a certain way. Things I never cared about but did anyway, because it was easier than dealing with his sighs, his looks, his comments. His anger. I tried so hard to do things his way, and for what?
I look at the shoes. Messy.
I leave them like that.
I walk into the kitchen, pushing open the balcony doors. The sheer curtains move with the wind, the hanging plants swaying lazily from their hooks. I draw in a long breath, letting the air fill my lungs to capacity. I glance back into the hall, seeing the shoes still sprawled across the floor.
A laugh tears out of me before I know it’s coming, almost maniacal.
It sounds strained even to my own ears, but I can’t stop.
All at once, it hits me how absurd it is.
How I’ve bent and trimmed pieces of myself for someone who never really cared for me.
How I spent years rearranging my life to fit into the narrow space of his approval.
The laugh keeps coming, raw and unstoppable, until it leaves me standing there with my stomach aching and my mouth sore from the force of it.
I’m still staring at the hall, when the front door clicks open. Noah steps inside, hair damp from the misting rain, cheeks flushed from the cold. His eyes drop to the small heap of shoes by the door. He tilts his head and looks at them—then at me—and a slow, mischievous grin curves across his face.
Without a word, he kicks his sneakers off with vigor, sending them flying, the laces tangling with mine. I slap a hand over my mouth to stop the laugh that wants to come. I don’t know if I’m happy or if I’ve lost it altogether.
Next, he drops his gym bag on top of them, which topples over too. His grin widens as he straightens.
“Hi,” I say, like he didn’t see me falling apart yesterday, like I didn’t wrap my arms around him from behind this morning and breathe a quiet thanks into his neck.
The memory of that makes my ears heat.
“Hi,” he says, stepping closer, eyes searching mine. “How are you?”
There’s genuine care in his voice, and it calms my warring emotions.
I pause, taking stock of myself and eventually nod. “Okay, I think. How was opening day?”
His eyes light up when I ask. “Un-fucking-believable! It was crazy, so many people came. Me and Aiden spent the day smiling like a couple of idiots.”
That makes me laugh, my heart swells with happiness and pride for them. “That’s great. I’m proud of you two.”
His eyes gleam as his smile morphs into something warmer. “Thanks, Gabe. That means a lot.”
I looked down at my feet, suddenly feeling shy but not understanding why.
When I raise my eyes, Noah is pulling his hoodie over his head, and it snags on his tank, lifting it slightly, showing his sculpted abdomen and dusting of golden hair at his navel.
I turn around and clear my throat. “You must be tired after such a big day, want food or some tea?”
I hear his low chuckle behind me. “Actually… I was thinking we could celebrate.”
My mind starts racing. How would he want to celebrate? He probably wants to go out somewhere. My stomach churns.
When I look at him, he gives me a quick smile and disappears into his room. I hear him rifling around. I wipe my clammy hands on my pants and take a breath.
Noah comes back carrying a black case and cables. He’s trying to act casual, but he’s failing. He lifts the case a little when he catches me looking.
“Confession,” he says. “I… have been keeping this under my bed.”
“Your bed?” It comes out more confused than anything.
He grimaces. “Yeah. Didn’t want to hog your TV or be noisy. And it’s your place.”
“It’s our place,” I say before I can overthink it. The words hit both of us at the same time. He looks surprised but covers it with a crooked half-smile.
“Right,” he says softly. “Still. I wasn’t sure.”
“What is it?”
He brightens. “A Switch.” He taps the case. “Portable gaming. Minimal cable mess, I promise. I can set it up in like thirty seconds and put it away just as fast.” He looks at me carefully again. “If you’re up for it.”
I was never a gamer. I should just tell him I’m tired. I am. But I’m also wired, and I don’t want to be alone right now.
“What would we play?”
From his expression, he expects me to say no. He opens the case anyway. Inside are two little controllers, neon blue and neon red, and the console itself, all tucked on a felt divider like a little altar to fun he hasn’t let himself have in the living room. Why would he hide this?
“So,” he says. “I was thinking… Just Dance?”
I stare. “What? No.”
He nods rapidly, a mock-serious expression in place. “Absolutely. Understood.” He’s already walking toward the TV.
“Noah,” I chide, but there’s no heat in it.
“We don’t have to. I just—” He sets the console on the TV unit.
“You seem…” He searches for a word. “Tense,” he says finally, one shoulder lifting.
“I thought maybe moving would help. Abbie said you were good dancers, so I thought you might like it. Or I can put on a movie, and we could buddy nap. I’m a big fan of all couch-based activities. ”
Buddy nap. That’s cute coming from him, for some reason. I stare at his profile, taking him in. Is Noah cute?
I watch his hands as he finishes setting up, and the TV comes on, but he’s still giving me a look, one that says just say no, and I’ll put it away.
“I used to love dancing,” I say to the screen. I can’t meet his eyes when I say it, but I also can’t keep the words in. There’s something about Noah that makes me want to be honest.
Noah’s eyes flick to me. “Yeah?”