33. Noah
33
NOAH
“Noah.”
I lift my head when I hear Izzy’s voice for the first time in a month. She’s staring down at me, opening and closing her mouth like she’s lost for words. I don’t expect her to say anything at all to me, considering I disappeared for a month and haven’t spoken to her at all.
I stand up, dusting off my jeans and hoping she can’t tell that my left leg is asleep from sitting in front of her door for so long. I thought she would return earlier, right after classes ended, but she must have been with her friends because it’s already late evening.
“Hi,” I say, all other words escaping me.
I can’t believe she’s right in front of me. I see the way her eyes flit over my face, the way she keeps blinking as if she can’t believe I’m real.
I don’t feel real, haven’t for the past month.
“What are you doing here? Where have you been?” she asks, her voice quiet as she steps closer to me.
I notice the twitch of her hands, how she curls her fingers into her palm instead of reaching for me.
“Can we talk?” I nod my head toward her room, hoping she’ll invite me in so we can have this conversation in private.
I’ve already had enough looks from the other girls on her floor from sitting here for so long. I don’t want an audience for this, too.
“Yeah, come in.”
She brushes past me to open the door, and I can already feel my heart caving in at being so close to her again.
I follow her into her room, closing the door behind me. She sits at her desk, but I stay standing. I don’t know if it’s okay for me to lean on her desk or sit on her bed like I used to.
We’re both silent for a moment as we take each other in. Her hair isn’t blonde anymore, back to the dark brown she told me was her natural colour. Her green eyes shimmer, a thousand questions in them. She still looks as beautiful as I remember.
“You’ve lost weight,” she says, a hint of worry in her voice.
I haven’t eaten properly for a month, and it’s obviously showing. My parents have been forcing me to sit down and eat with them, but even then, I can barely stomach a few bites.
I don’t know how to have this conversation with her. All I can do is stare at her, my mouth hanging open as I try to figure out how I can tell her about everything that’s happened. But I can feel the sting of tears in my eyes already. I thought I would be strong enough to get through this without crying, but I’m not.
“It’s okay,” is all she says, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard it before.
I break down.
I start sobbing, my legs giving out as I crumple to the floor, my head in my hands. I feel her crouch down next to me, her arms around my neck as she holds me close to her. She tries to soothe me, whispering words of reassurance, telling me that it’s okay, that I can let it all out, that she’s there for me.
I don’t know how long we stay like that but eventually, I stop, my energy completely depleted. Izzy doesn’t leave my side for a single second.
I move my hands away from my face, lifting my head to look at her. I wish I hadn’t because the dampness on her cheeks tells me that she’s been crying and if I had anything left in me, I would start again, too.
She moves to sit in front of me, crossing her legs as she takes my hands in hers. She runs her thumbs across my knuckles, lifts them to her mouth and places a kiss on both of them. Izzy doesn’t let go, she keeps our joined hands rested on my knees. I drop my legs so I’m sitting just like her, and she shuffles closer.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” she tells me gently, but I want to. She deserves an explanation.
“My grandma called me when I was in Paris. She said my granddad wasn’t feeling well, but that he was looking forward to seeing me once I got there. I should have realised then that something was wrong, but I didn’t. He gets sick all the time, but it’s always gone in a few days so I kept playing. But then the next day she called me again and…” I take a shaky breath, trying to compose myself so I can at least get these next words out. “It was too late.”
I’ve never felt guilt like that before. Never felt ashamed of myself for being so selfish. I should have gone at the start of the break like I’d originally planned. I should have gone at Christmas. I should have gone at Chuseok. I should have gone earlier in the summer. I should never have left.
I was there for everything, except when it mattered the most. I wasn’t there in his final moments, wasn’t there to comfort him, or tell him it was okay and that he could go. It has haunted me since it happened and I don’t think the guilt will ever go away.
“I’m so sorry, Noah.” The crease in her brows and the downturn of her lips forces me to look down at our hands instead of her face.
I blow out a heavy breath, close my eyes for a second so I can pull myself together and finish explaining.
“I left right away. Luke took me to the airport. I told him when I landed, and I didn’t ask him to, but I hoped he would tell you. When I saw your text, I knew he had. But I couldn’t speak to anyone. I figured if I kept pretending I was in Korea for a regular trip, then it would be fine.
“My parents were waiting for me at the airport, and as soon as I saw them, it hit me. I don’t even know where my phone went for those first few days. Nothing felt real. It was like I wasn’t even in my body, and I was watching everything happen from a distance.”
Izzy listens intently, warm green eyes so full of kindness and sorrow. She doesn’t offer any placating words, just lets me talk it all out.
“I should have texted you, said anything at all, but I just couldn’t. There’s no excuse for it, and I’m sorry.”
“Noah, you don’t have to apologise for that.” She grips my hands in hers, keeps moving her thumbs across my skin and it’s the only thing that makes me feel like a real person.
“We ended up staying longer than I thought to help my grandma. I didn’t know when I’d come back to you,” I tell her.
I wished she had been with me. Every night I dreamt of her being right by my side and holding my hand through the whole thing. My safe place when everything was falling apart.
“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
I drop my head, shame rising and my heart in my throat as I prepare to say the words that could ruin everything between us.
“I’m leaving again,” I tell her, my voice hoarse.
I can’t look at her, but I hear the sharp intake of breath. Maybe I made a mistake coming back and giving her the impression that I was here to stay. But I could never have this conversation over the phone. She deserves more than that. More than me.
“When?” she whispers.
“Tomorrow morning. I came back to see you and pack my room up.”
She doesn’t say anything. After a few painful seconds, I finally pluck up the courage to look at her. Tears are silently falling down her cheeks and I take one of my hands away from hers so that I can wipe them away. She leans into my touch, her cheek resting in my palm as I swipe my thumb across her skin.
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Izzy. I want to be all in with you. More than anything. But I can’t give you all of me, yet. I haven’t handled any of this well. Not just my grandad, but everything that’s been happening here too. I need to work through it all, figure out how to process everything I’m feeling. I want to be the best person I can for you.”
“You already are, I don’t expect anything else from you.”
“I know you don’t.” I try my best to smile at her, but I can barely hold it for a second. “But I have to do this.”
Izzy nods, her hand coming up to cover mine and pressing down like she can fuse us together permanently, so we don’t have to be apart.
“I won’t ask you to wait for me,” I continue. “That’s not fair on you. But I want to come back to you, if you’ll let me.”
“I’ll be here,” she tells me, her bottom lip starting to tremble. I pull her into my lap, enveloping her in my arms. I want to hide us away from the world and pretend that everything’s good, just like it always is when I’m in this room.
I don’t want to leave her. I want to stay here with her for the rest of my life. But I’ve been hiding behind Izzy for too long now, using her as a shield to avoid the reality that the rumours did get to me, that the guilt I felt about my parents separation was weighing down on me, that the regret I feel about getting there too late is killing me.
I can’t keep using her like that, wanting to run to her whenever I feel any kind of negative emotion. That’s too much pressure to put on a person. I want to give her everything she’s given me, but I can’t do that if I’m lying to myself and have nothing to give.
She lifts her head from where she buried it in the crook of my neck, her nose brushing against my cheek before she presses her forehead to mine. Her hands move from around my shoulders to cradle my face. Izzy keeps us as close as she can while she speaks.
“I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to come back. Whether that’s next month or next year, it doesn’t matter. I’m with you, Noah.” She tilts my face to the side to look out at the window. “We’ll look at the same moon every night, see the same stars. I’ll be with you, you’ll be with me. It doesn’t matter where we are, as long as we can both see that moon.”
I turn my head to press a kiss to the palm of her hand. This girl has changed my life for the better and she doesn’t even know it. I pull her closer to me again, and when her hands move to curve around my neck, I’m not worried about her feeling my racing heart, because it’s the calmest it’s been in a month.
“I’ll come back to you,” I promise her, my voice the steadiest it’s been because I need her to know that I mean it.
“I know you will. But right now, you’re here. Let’s not waste that.”
She urges me to look at her, and my memory of her was right. Green eyes like the fields by my grandparents’ house, pink lips like the flowers he grew. There’s no wonder I fell for her. She looks like home.
When Izzy kisses me, the world goes quiet. All that exists is the two of us in this moment. The kiss is gentle, a reassurance, an oath.
“Can you stay until I fall asleep?” She asks, our noses brushing. “I can’t say goodbye to you.”
All I can do is nod as she pulls away from me. She takes my hand in hers and stands up, pulling me with her and moving us toward her bed. Izzy lies down, pressing herself against the wall, and I follow without her asking. I’m on the right, she’s on the left, just like I imagined it all those nights. When I’m next to her, she lifts her head on to my chest, and my arms go around her shoulders, holding her close to me.
She traces her fingers over my chest, right above the heart that she owns. I run my hands over her arm, her back, committing the feel of her to memory because I know it’ll be far too long before I get to hold her again like this.
“Tell me about him,” she whispers.
“He was my favourite person in the world,” I start, my chest tightening. “When I was younger, he would always send me to the corner store with ten thousand won, and let me buy whatever I wanted. My parents hated it. I would be bouncing off the walls by the time I got back because of how much sugar I’d eaten.”
Izzy lets out a soft laugh.
“I can’t imagine you like that,” she says. “You’re so calm now.”
“I was a menace when I was younger. He let me get away with everything.” It feels so good to speak about him. “One time, I tore up his carrots before they were ready, but he didn’t get angry with me. Instead, he just thanked me for getting the baby carrots ready for him.”
The memory plays out in my mind as if it just happened. I sat next to him on a stool in the kitchen while he cut them up into small strips. We ate them for dinner that night in bibimbap with some of the other vegetables he’d grown. The happiness of that memory is washed away by the knowledge that I’ll never do anything like that again.
“He sounds amazing. I wish I could have met him.”
“He wanted to meet you,” I say.
Izzy’s hand stills on my chest and I cover it with mine.
“I told him about you a while ago,” I confess. “He said you sounded amazing, and he wanted to meet you.”
“Why did you tell him?” she asks, her curiosity clear.
“I wanted him to know about you. It’s going to sound weird, but I had an image in my head of the two of us going to visit him in Korea.”
It feels like a huge admission, too big of a revelation considering we haven’t even put a name to what our relationship is. But this seems like one of the best ways to tell Izzy how I feel—how I’ve felt for a while now—without saying the words.
“I would like that,” she says, and I feel the up and down movement of her head as it rubs against my chest. “Let’s go to Korea.”
“Okay,” I tell her.
I know they’re empty words right now, a plan that neither of us can see through at this time. But the possibility of it, the hope that one day it can happen, soothes me.
Izzy shifts her position, laying her head down on the pillow before she pulls me down with her. We face each other, gazes focused. The room has gone dark now, and I can just about see her face.
I trace my fingers across her features, the slope of her nose, the curve of her jaw, and the shape of her lips as she presses a kiss on my fingertips. When I’ve finished mapping her out, adding these new details to my memory, she does the same to me. I shiver as her fingertip draws across my face, caressing every single part of it.
When Izzy looks at me, I realise the full extent of what I feel for her. And I know that she feels it for me, too. I think we’ve both been saying it silently to each other for a while now.
But we can’t say the words, not just yet. I’ll tell her when I come back to her, when I’m the best version of myself.
I take her hand from my face and bring it to my lips before intertwining our fingers in between our chests. She squeezes my hand, holding on to me tightly like it’ll stop me from disappearing. But I have to go.
We stay like that in silence, hands joined and desperately clinging on to each other.
Our time together was too short. Her eyelids start to droop, her breathing evening out as she falls asleep. And once she’s deep enough in it, I tell her how I feel about her in a hushed whisper of a language she can’t understand.
I let go of her, even though it tears me apart inside, and I can feel my chest caving in. From my pocket, I take out the slightly squashed paper star I’ve been carrying around for weeks, redo it so it looks as perfect as it can be, and place it on her desk.
Then I press one last kiss to her forehead and say goodbye to the girl I love.