Fic: If I Wrote You
Title: If I Wrote You
Author: nouveau_monday
Pairing: Luke/Noah
Rating: PG-13/R for language, and yes, that means no sex occurs in this piece. (I wasn't going to mention that, but apparently as this little world has been all about the sex, someone thought I ought to mention it.)
Word Count: 4.6k-ish
Summary: Noah and Luke aren't sure how it happened that they aren't speaking, but they know it's not okay. Now how do they fix it?
Spoilers: There are quotes from April 29th's show and May 6th's show. All of the events take place between those two dates. If you aren't up to date, and don't want to be, don't read.
Disclaimer: In my world this is what happened between when Luke left and then when Luke next showed up at the house a week later. Apparently the writers left these scenes on the cutting room floor.
Notes: Thank you so much to mightyten for being the best beta, especially when she has her own wonderful stuff to write which is amazing and you all should read immediately if you haven't. Also, she suggested that I point out that all of this is in my little Magnets!verse, and in that happy place, the boys have been having sex since New Years Eve. And, I'm still on track with the storyline. So what do you know, maybe it has been going on for that long? You can start at the beginning of the Magnets stories by checking out my memories. They're all numbered and pretty there.
My other note, as always, is to give credit to the music that wound up as the title. Dar Williams' If I Wrote You off End of Summer because in the end it was that fear of this all being over that stopped the boys from speaking.
If I Wrote You
Noah ran his fingers through his hair and definitively did not throw something. Ameera was there, and not used to loud noises. Or maybe she was overly used to loud noises. Whatever. It didn't matter. Luke had done it again. But this time, it didn't feel like before. It didn't feel like the injury and that stupid self sacrificing "This isn't what I want" speech from when he was in the wheelchair. It felt different, scary, final. Noah closed his eyes. How had 'I love you' gone from words he couldn't say to words he so desperately clung to? "Fuck." He kicked the stupid couch in the stupid house that Luke's stupid grandmother had let stupid him and stupid Ameera move into.
He replayed it all in his head again and again. He'd been so happy at the store, wandering the aisles thinking about foods that Luke liked. He shook his head, wrinkled his nose, because damn, that was a lot of crap, but whatever. It belonged on the shelves because Luke belonged in the house. And finally, finally it was going to happen. He was an idiot. Of course it wasn't going to happen. How could something possibly go his way in the middle of the ridiculous house of cards he had somehow built for himself.
*****
"This is for you." Noah passed over the grocery bags.
"Oh?" Luke grinned like a little kid with presents. "What is all this stuff?"
"I went shopping for all your favorite foods."
"No kidding." Luke rummaged through the bags. "You hate this junk."
"Yeah, but you love it. So it's going to be on the shopping list from now on." He rested his hands on Luke's shoulder, so fucking happy just to know this was happening. "I want you to feel like you're really living here."
*****
"Shit, shit, shit!" He wanted to do something crazy, wanted to throw a tantrum, wanted to be the fucking kid he'd never been allowed to be. Was it so wrong to have wanted this to work? Why was he being punished for doing the right thing? It was the right thing, wasn't it? It's not like he chose Ameera over Luke, because, well, duh. Who would do that? Not that Ameera wasn't a perfectly nice girl, he supposed, but, come on, she was a girl. More importantly, she wasn't Luke.
Did Luke not get that? Is that why he had run? Was it about her being in the house or -Oh God- did Luke honestly think he was ... Noah collapsed onto the sofa. Luke did think that. Of course, he did. That's why he left. It wasn't about Ameera being in the house. It was about Ameera being in Noah's life. It was about Luke feeling like he wasn't Noah's primary concern. Luke's such an idiot. But maybe Luke had thought that for a reason?
Maybe Noah was a bad boyfriend?
He grabbed his notebook out of his backpack and scrambled for a pen. There was no way Luke was going to talk to him. That much was pretty clear. And he'd left. He hadn't tried to push Noah away, hadn't tried to let Noah speak, or work through it in anyway really. No, instead Luke had flown out the fucking door and wanted nothing to do with Noah. Not that he blamed him. A hug goodbye? A kiss? Noah shuddered at Luke's anger. That hadn't been what he was going to say. Still, Luke had thought it was.
Luke had been wrong.
Noah started writing.
Luke -
For the record, I didn't want to hug you or kiss you goodbye. Okay, that's kind of a lie. I want to hug and kiss you all the time, hug you and kiss you and so much more. I miss the feel of your skin next to mine, but I'm frustrated that you thought that's what I was asking. What I wanted was for you to stay. To at least hear me out. Listen to me so we could try and work through this. But now I'm at the house and I'm freaking out. Really freaking out. I don't know what to do without you. I go to sleep thinking about you. I toss and turn with dreams of you. Then I wake up and I think you should be next to me, but you aren't. And I think, maybe, I'm dying a little.
I know that sounds ridiculous. It sounds melodramatic and maybe like I'm as much of a girl as I feel like, but seriously, I'm lost. I think about how you said I needed someone to tell me what to do, and maybe you're right. I don't want to think that you were, but I don't know. I wish you were here, and that you would talk to me. I miss you. I love you.
I don't have your way with words. I'm sorry.
Love,
Noah
His fingers ached to crumple up the letter. Putting pen to paper made it all real. God, Luke had left him, ran out the door, told him he couldn't do it, and left. Noah tossed the note on the coffee table. He needed to do something. He could clean the cabinets in the kitchen, put things away. The grocery bag with the stuff for Luke leaned against the refrigerator and depressed him. One by one, he took out the junk food. He had that kicked-in-the-gut sinking feeling, that I'm-drowning-and-no-one-is-going-to-save-me sense. Noah's hands clammed up on each item, but he placed them on the shelves he had carefully emptied out for Luke. Some day, maybe, Luke would stop by to say hello and see ...
See what, Mayer? Noah wished he could kick his own ass. The truth was he knew the answer to his own dumb question. If Luke were to stop by for anything other than to return whatever Noah might have left at the farm and Luke did see the stuff in the kitchen, he'd immediately recognize Noah for the asshole he was. The pathetic asshole who had confessed all his secrets to Luke and sat around pining like a fairy tale princess waiting for his prince to come.
"Damn it!" He threw his shoulder and back into the motion and punched at the wall as hard as he could. Pain arched from his knuckles, shooting fireworks off in his brain. Christ, that hurt! Maybe he'd broken his fingers? And how awful that it was about the best he had felt since Luke walked out the door? Noah winced. Certainly this was the most present he had been in his body for awhile. He needed ice for his hand, his head, his heart. Probably he needed a cold shower and the non-broken hand. He wanted to smash his forehead into the refrigerator.
His mind kept replaying their last moment. What was he going to do without Luke?
*****
Noah chased to the still open door. "Luke. Wait." He hesitated, faced with Luke's heavy breath and the broken emotions so easily laid out before him.
"All we do is wait. For your father to accept us. For me to get better from the shooting. For Ameera to get her papers. I'm sick of waiting. I want to be alone with you right now. But I know. That can't happen. So until it can, I can't put myself in a situation where I feel worse than I already do." Luke's eyes glistened. Noah wondered if he knew how tense his neck was? That his hands shook?
"Can't I at least -?" Noah wanted to hurl, wanted to hold Luke until he got it, wanted, wanted wanted.
"What? Kiss me goodbye? Come on Noah, we can't even hug. The ICE might be watching."
*****
Luke mucked the stalls more violently than perhaps was necessary, but he couldn't think of anything else to focus on. He'd done dishes, mowed the lawn, and was running out of options. He knew he needed to do his laundry, but everything smelled vaguely of Noah and he wasn't ready to wash that away. God, he closed his eyes, I'm an idiot.
He returned to pitching hay. Screw that. Noah was the idiot. How could he have possibly thought this would be okay? How could he want to marry someone else? Fuck visas, fuck safety, fuck everything. Luke collapsed on one of the solid bales. He had agreed, told Noah it would suck, but he agreed with the decision. And like an idiot - which Noah was clearly - Noah had believed him, believed that it would suck, but it would be okay.
Luke should have married Ameera. Except the part where everyone in all of Oakdale knew he was queer. Which maybe put a damper on things, a little, but seriously, at least they could have stayed at the fucking farm then. Why hadn't he thought of that earlier? Right. Back to the whole here, queer, get used to it bit.
And he refused, absolutely refused, to not be out. Been there, done that, and god, it still hurt. A lot. Did Noah get that? Did Noah understand? Could he get him to? Maybe it would be easier if he wrote it down. Noah always got Invisible Girl. But seriously, what could Luke say?
Sometimes, Luke hated his life. A lot.
He wiped his hands on his jeans and went back into the farm. His laptop rested on the kitchen table. Smug bastard, it knew he needed to find a way to make it better. He had left. Insulted Noah, and left. When things at WOAK with Maddie, and even the Colonel for fuck's sake, looked like a walk in the park comparatively, Snyder, you have a problem A problem he needed to make better. He poured himself a glass of water while his computer started.
Noah -
I think I made a big mistake and I don't know how to take it back, how to fix it, how to do anything right now but sit at the farm and kick my own ass, feed the horses, and then kick myself some more.
Last night I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling for hours. I listened to The Pet Shop Boys on repeat for far too long. Sometimes it's creepy how much a song can hit you right there. I know I told you about my John Cusack fantasies, tall dark and handsome rescuing me and all. But last night I realized that I need to be the one in the trench coat and the boots with the stereo in my hands. I need to be under your window, letting someone sing their heart out to try and get you to understand. The problem is that, just like in the movie, I think you're going to close the curtain and turn away.
I wouldn't blame you. I'm an asshole. I screwed up and I hurt you and I can't even begin to explain what happened. I'll try. If you've read this far, maybe you can keep reading a bit longer? Please, Noah, for me, or for us, or heck, for you.
The truth is that sometimes you scare me. You give so much of yourself. Your body, your emotions, everything. You're always offering, giving, and trying to do the next right thing. I hate that you married Ameera. I never ever ever should have said it was okay. It's not, and I get that now. But I know that it has nothing to do with how you feel about me. And then you were so happy, so damned happy, and you'd bought food just for me even though you don't like it.
Noah, I didn't know what to do. You were so perfect in that moment. I saw this profound happiness on your face. And then we were in your bedroom, but she was there. And I knew you wanted me, I did. I knew that if I let myself, if I let us, that we could have been naked and I could have been inside you christening that damned bedroom from yours to ours. And that's what you wanted. You wanted that from me.
What can I give you Noah? What can I possibly offer to live up to your expectations of me? Nothing. I can't give the way you do. Certainly not in front of someone else. Definitely not while sharing the house with her. How much did things with Maddie suck? How much worse would things be with Ameera?
I'm selfish. I'll always take what you can give me, but the problem is that I don't know how to say no in any way other than the one I used. I want you. Just you. No one else. I'm pissed that you moved in with her, even though I know you did it for us. I'm furious that I can't say that to you. I don't know how to be grateful for something when what I want is everything.
I love you Noah. I want to be alone with you. I want that house to be ours. I don't know how to get what I want. I don't know how to be mature and grown up and work this out. I need your help. I need you. Please Noah, say you'll forgive me for being such a jerk. Tell me that if I drive by your house and stop, you'll let me in.
Please Noah. Forgive me.
Love
-Luke
Luke saved the letter and stared at it. He couldn't send it. He knew that. That letter was emotional blackmail of the worst kind. Jesus, even when he wrote it wound up sounding like it was Noah's fault. He shut his laptop.
What if he dropped the letter off and Ameera took it? What if Noah refused to see him? How was he going to survive if they were really over?
*****
The shower hadn't helped. It made things worse. And driving a truck to the hospital with only one working hand? That sucked a lot. And not in a warm, wet - shit! stop thinking about him - kind of way. The doctors said that nothing was broken, but they bandaged and splinted his right hand, gave him some pain pills and told him to go home before taking any and sleep for the next three days.
Sleeping for the next three days, with pharmaceutical help and medical encouragement sounded like perhaps the best idea Noah had heard in awhile. Normally the idea of mood altering substances, whether aspirin or alcohol, was just ... No. Not now. Not ever. But apparently even that could be negotiated, with Luke not speaking to him, and Ameera in the house giving him big sad eyes, ignoring the world with doctor's permission seemed fantastic.
He took the elevator to the pharmacy and turned in his prescription. The ache in his hand managed to shut out most of the ache in his heart while he leaned up against the wall and waited. He held his bad hand in the palm of his good one and closed his eyes. The note from the doctors burned a hole in his pocket with its promise of three days of salvation.
He shoved his still functioning hand into his pocket, reached for his cell. He dropped it back into his pocket just as quickly. Maybe it was imagination, but the damned thing felt like it was on fire. God, Noah just wanted to call Luke, beg him to come back, to let Noah apologize, to do anything just to be near him.
It had been weeks since they'd really been together. And that last time? Luke asking Noah to give him that and he had. And it had been amazing. Seriously. He pressed his spine against the wall, chewed at his lip. But damned if he didn't want Luke around him, inside him, filling him. Luke being so strong and making Noah so safe. Great. His boyfriend dumped him and he could still get hard just thinking about him. Those fucking pain pills couldn't be ready soon enough.
Noah growled under his breath and waited for his name to be called.
*****
Luke grabbed the keys to his grandmother's car. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't feel this way any longer, needed to see Noah. Hell, he needed Noah. period. His hands shook as he tried to turn the engine over. When was the last time this car had been used? He hit at the steering wheel with his left hand. "Don't you dare not work," he hissed. His desperation must have been the magic ingredient. The car started.
The drive over was interminable. Luke forgot how to breathe twenty-seven million times between the moment he turned onto the driveway until he was almost at the house. Glancing in his rear view mirror he saw what could only be Noah's truck. "Damnit." He pulled over quickly and ducked down. Noah probably wouldn't recognize the car, but he didn't need to know he was being stalked. Oh my god, I'm a stalker. I fucking ran out on my boyfriend and now I'm sitting in a car he won't know, spying on him. I'm pathetic. The thought was almost enough to get Luke to pull a U-turn and go, but Noah was easing himself from the truck and looked ... awkward?
Luke bit his lip. The small of Noah's back was exposed as he bent forward to pick something up. His mouth ached to kiss Noah's spine, suck bruises into his hips. Great, just great. A stalker with a fucking hard on. That was pure class. Luke frowned. Something was wrong with Noah's hand. It looked? Was it splinted?
Noah was hurt! Something had happened to Noah and Luke hadn't known. He reached for the car door, opened it quickly. He was going to puke right in the street. Noah hadn't told him, hadn't called. Who did this to him? How could someone have hurt Noah? How could Luke not have known? Luke's mind burned with unanswered questions, even while his stomach rioted and his lungs threatened to give up the ghost altogether.
By the time Luke's body was under control, Noah was gone. The street was empty. Luke ached to see Noah, to hold him, know he was okay, but not like this. Not now. He turned back to the farm, knew he needed a plan. Nothing was going to make sense until they were back together.
*****
Noah let himself into the house without thinking, winced at the pain that ricocheted through him. He needed water and his bed immediately.
"What happened?" Ameera sat on the sofa, a frown on her face, a piece of paper with ragged edges in her hands.
"Punched a wall," Noah offered by way of explanation. "Doctors gave me meds, said I was going to be useless for a little while and told me to get sleep." He sighed. His need to beat things was not her fault. "I'm not the best of company right now. Could you do me a favor? Show the note to my professors?" He fumbled for the message from the doctor. "Don't want them to think I'm blowing them off."
"You're hurt. Let me help you." She moved toward Noah.
"No. Ameera, just stay away." He stepped back, ducked around her. I know you're trying to help, but right now, you're not." Noah blinked at the coffee table. "Why is that there?"
"Why is what where?" She emptied her gaze.
He snatched up the paper. "You went through my things? This was private, Ameera. Personal. Just between me and Lu-" Noah's voice cracked. "You know what, I don't care. I'm going into my room. When I'm feeling human again, I'll come out. Just, stay out of my way right now. Okay. I'm going to wind up saying things I don't mean. And I won't be willing to take them back."
"Noah, if you love him..." She reached out to touch his arm. "Call him. I hate to see you hurting like this."
"It doesn't matter how I feel, Ameera. It's what he wants that counts, and he doesn't want me." Noah winced at the truth of his words, not ready to face them even as they came blurting out of his mouth.
"That's not true, Noah. Luke, he's hurt and confused. But he loves you. I know he does." She looked at his hand. Why was she always so irritatingly calm? "That dent in our, um, the kitchen wall? It's from you? I was worried something had happened."
Noah closed his eyes. Of course she would be. When people vanish in her world, they remained gone. "I'm sorry. i didn't think to leave a note." He paused. "I wanted to call Luke," Noah whispered. "But I couldn't. And after that ... " He shrugged.
"I'll bring you some water. Go lie down." She rubbed his shoulder. "You'll get through this. Both of you."
"You're sweet to say so, Ameera. I know I can't be what you want, but thank you. For everything." Noah's eyes fell to the paper still in his hands. He crumpled it and chucked it into the trash. "I think I need to be alone for awhile."
"Let me get you that water."
"Yeah okay." Once in the bedroom, Noah stripped to his shirt and boxers. He made sure to be under the sheet and covered before his -he rolled his eyes- wife returned.
"Here's the water." She sat on the edge of the bed, checked his temperature against her hand. "And just in case, I thought, I don't want you to give up hoping, Noah." Ameera tried to smooth out the paper as she left it on the bedside table. "Don't throw this away." She handed him the glass. "Get some rest."
Noah swallowed his pain pill and nodded. "Gonna sleep now." He closed his eyes and refused to cry until he heard the door close.
*****
Luke sat in Java, cup of coffee fisted between his hands. He jumped at the brush of fingers on his shoulder.
"Can I speak to you?"
He closed his eyes. This was not happening. "I can't be around you right now. Go away, Ameera."
She sat down across from him at the small table, met his gaze directly. "No."
"No?" Ameera never said no. What was that about? Her face was stiffer than usual, her shoulders tighter as well. "Is everything okay? With Noah? Did something else happen? Did someone hurt him?" The mug shook in his hand, sloshed scalding liquid across his fingers.
"Something else?" She seemed confused. "You mean his hand? But how did you know that he did that?" Her eyes widened before she cast them down.
"Ameera, is Noah okay? I saw him the other day with the splint on, but I didn't, I mean, I couldn't ... He didn't say a thing about it! I've been so worried." He bit at his lip. "Noah banged up that same hand in February. Bruised his knuckles."
She nodded. "He mentioned that."
Luke gritted his teeth. He didn't want to know what Noah mentioned to her, couldn't believe he was forced to get information from her either. "Bet he did," he muttered.
"His hand is fine now. The splint came off this morning. Noah's been sleeping a lot. The doctors warned him that would happen. I think not being able to use his hand made him even more miserable than he was." She smirked. "Maybe that will teach Noah to stop punching walls."
Luke's head shot up. "Wait? He did that to himself?" His brain reeled. The truck, February, Noah's hand. God. Noah hadn't known what to say then, and ... Damnit. Luke was such an idiot. World class. A-plus. Number one. Fool.
"This is what Noah said. And the kitchen looks the worse for it." Ameera covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's your grandmother's house. We'll make sure to repair it. Perhaps after he teaches me how to cook breakfast tomorrow." She hesitated. "Would you like to come over? Luke, this might not be my place to say ..."
"Yeah, well, don't say it then." Luke got up to leave, shoved his chair against the table.
"He needs you, Luke. He loves you so much." She stood up, blocked his exit. "I'm grateful for everything you two have done. I don't want it to destroy what you have."
"What we had, Ameera. Past tense. It's over. Why are you being so nice to me, anyway? I know how hard it is to watch him with someone else. Here's your big chance."
She shoved something into his hand. "I never had a chance, Luke. As as long as you're alive, no one else ever will." Ameera curled his fingers around the wrinkled piece of paper. "He'll be angry that I did this. As his wife, I know I should obey him. But Noah never said how to get rid of this letter. So I'm giving it to you."
Luke found himself speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "A letter?"
She nodded.
"I wrote him one too." He unfolded the paper, saw Noah's familiar scrawl.
"He never received it."
He shook his head. "I never sent it," he whispered.
Ameera smiled. "I have to get to class."
"Yeah, me too." Luke waved somewhere near her. His eyes were already drunk on Noah's words.
*****
Noah looked up from where he was teaching Ameera how to cook. His lungs felt like they might be a little too tight for the rest of forever. His hand wasn't thrilled to be holding the spoon. At least his fingers were once again mobile.
Ameera brushed flour off his face. His heart sunk. Why wasn't that Luke? It should have been Luke, damnit. And Noah felt awful, because he couldn't even try to hide it. They backed away from each other slightly and were stopped from any further awkwardness by the sound of the doorbell. Noah offered to answer it, told Ameera to keep cooking.
"Luke." Oh God. He was here. Hell. Wait, why was he hear? Noah's heart beat too loud. His lungs constricted more. "I didn't know you were coming here?"
"I had to." Luke stepped forward, stood in the living room. "Look, I don't know what I was thinking moving in here with you and Ameera. And the stuff I said when I left."
Noah swallowed. "You didn't say anything wrong." It had been him. All him. He was the idiot, not Luke. Never Luke.
"Yes I did. I made it seem like waiting for you would be the worst thing in the world, but if it meant waiting for you, or not having you in my life, I would wait. I would wait forever." He met Noah's eyes and Noah couldn't breathe again, still, whatever.
"You mean that?"
"Yes. Noah, what we have? This. Is real. And this is amazing. And it can survive all of this and I am so sorry if, if, something I said made you think otherwise."
"It was my fault too, okay? I, I should have made it more clear that there isn't anyone else I want in my life every day as much as you."
Noah's hand hurt. His lungs searched for the air they hadn't had in days. All he wanted was to grab at Luke and never let him leave again ever. He reached out. Luke stepped forward and into his arms. It wasn't resolved. He got that. But this was much closer to perfect than he had ever thought he would have again.
Author: nouveau_monday
Pairing: Luke/Noah
Rating: PG-13/R for language, and yes, that means no sex occurs in this piece. (I wasn't going to mention that, but apparently as this little world has been all about the sex, someone thought I ought to mention it.)
Word Count: 4.6k-ish
Summary: Noah and Luke aren't sure how it happened that they aren't speaking, but they know it's not okay. Now how do they fix it?
Spoilers: There are quotes from April 29th's show and May 6th's show. All of the events take place between those two dates. If you aren't up to date, and don't want to be, don't read.
Disclaimer: In my world this is what happened between when Luke left and then when Luke next showed up at the house a week later. Apparently the writers left these scenes on the cutting room floor.
Notes: Thank you so much to mightyten for being the best beta, especially when she has her own wonderful stuff to write which is amazing and you all should read immediately if you haven't. Also, she suggested that I point out that all of this is in my little Magnets!verse, and in that happy place, the boys have been having sex since New Years Eve. And, I'm still on track with the storyline. So what do you know, maybe it has been going on for that long? You can start at the beginning of the Magnets stories by checking out my memories. They're all numbered and pretty there.
My other note, as always, is to give credit to the music that wound up as the title. Dar Williams' If I Wrote You off End of Summer because in the end it was that fear of this all being over that stopped the boys from speaking.
If I Wrote You
Noah ran his fingers through his hair and definitively did not throw something. Ameera was there, and not used to loud noises. Or maybe she was overly used to loud noises. Whatever. It didn't matter. Luke had done it again. But this time, it didn't feel like before. It didn't feel like the injury and that stupid self sacrificing "This isn't what I want" speech from when he was in the wheelchair. It felt different, scary, final. Noah closed his eyes. How had 'I love you' gone from words he couldn't say to words he so desperately clung to? "Fuck." He kicked the stupid couch in the stupid house that Luke's stupid grandmother had let stupid him and stupid Ameera move into.
He replayed it all in his head again and again. He'd been so happy at the store, wandering the aisles thinking about foods that Luke liked. He shook his head, wrinkled his nose, because damn, that was a lot of crap, but whatever. It belonged on the shelves because Luke belonged in the house. And finally, finally it was going to happen. He was an idiot. Of course it wasn't going to happen. How could something possibly go his way in the middle of the ridiculous house of cards he had somehow built for himself.
*****
"This is for you." Noah passed over the grocery bags.
"Oh?" Luke grinned like a little kid with presents. "What is all this stuff?"
"I went shopping for all your favorite foods."
"No kidding." Luke rummaged through the bags. "You hate this junk."
"Yeah, but you love it. So it's going to be on the shopping list from now on." He rested his hands on Luke's shoulder, so fucking happy just to know this was happening. "I want you to feel like you're really living here."
*****
"Shit, shit, shit!" He wanted to do something crazy, wanted to throw a tantrum, wanted to be the fucking kid he'd never been allowed to be. Was it so wrong to have wanted this to work? Why was he being punished for doing the right thing? It was the right thing, wasn't it? It's not like he chose Ameera over Luke, because, well, duh. Who would do that? Not that Ameera wasn't a perfectly nice girl, he supposed, but, come on, she was a girl. More importantly, she wasn't Luke.
Did Luke not get that? Is that why he had run? Was it about her being in the house or -Oh God- did Luke honestly think he was ... Noah collapsed onto the sofa. Luke did think that. Of course, he did. That's why he left. It wasn't about Ameera being in the house. It was about Ameera being in Noah's life. It was about Luke feeling like he wasn't Noah's primary concern. Luke's such an idiot. But maybe Luke had thought that for a reason?
Maybe Noah was a bad boyfriend?
He grabbed his notebook out of his backpack and scrambled for a pen. There was no way Luke was going to talk to him. That much was pretty clear. And he'd left. He hadn't tried to push Noah away, hadn't tried to let Noah speak, or work through it in anyway really. No, instead Luke had flown out the fucking door and wanted nothing to do with Noah. Not that he blamed him. A hug goodbye? A kiss? Noah shuddered at Luke's anger. That hadn't been what he was going to say. Still, Luke had thought it was.
Luke had been wrong.
Noah started writing.
Luke -
For the record, I didn't want to hug you or kiss you goodbye. Okay, that's kind of a lie. I want to hug and kiss you all the time, hug you and kiss you and so much more. I miss the feel of your skin next to mine, but I'm frustrated that you thought that's what I was asking. What I wanted was for you to stay. To at least hear me out. Listen to me so we could try and work through this. But now I'm at the house and I'm freaking out. Really freaking out. I don't know what to do without you. I go to sleep thinking about you. I toss and turn with dreams of you. Then I wake up and I think you should be next to me, but you aren't. And I think, maybe, I'm dying a little.
I know that sounds ridiculous. It sounds melodramatic and maybe like I'm as much of a girl as I feel like, but seriously, I'm lost. I think about how you said I needed someone to tell me what to do, and maybe you're right. I don't want to think that you were, but I don't know. I wish you were here, and that you would talk to me. I miss you. I love you.
I don't have your way with words. I'm sorry.
Love,
Noah
His fingers ached to crumple up the letter. Putting pen to paper made it all real. God, Luke had left him, ran out the door, told him he couldn't do it, and left. Noah tossed the note on the coffee table. He needed to do something. He could clean the cabinets in the kitchen, put things away. The grocery bag with the stuff for Luke leaned against the refrigerator and depressed him. One by one, he took out the junk food. He had that kicked-in-the-gut sinking feeling, that I'm-drowning-and-no-one-is-going-to-save-me sense. Noah's hands clammed up on each item, but he placed them on the shelves he had carefully emptied out for Luke. Some day, maybe, Luke would stop by to say hello and see ...
See what, Mayer? Noah wished he could kick his own ass. The truth was he knew the answer to his own dumb question. If Luke were to stop by for anything other than to return whatever Noah might have left at the farm and Luke did see the stuff in the kitchen, he'd immediately recognize Noah for the asshole he was. The pathetic asshole who had confessed all his secrets to Luke and sat around pining like a fairy tale princess waiting for his prince to come.
"Damn it!" He threw his shoulder and back into the motion and punched at the wall as hard as he could. Pain arched from his knuckles, shooting fireworks off in his brain. Christ, that hurt! Maybe he'd broken his fingers? And how awful that it was about the best he had felt since Luke walked out the door? Noah winced. Certainly this was the most present he had been in his body for awhile. He needed ice for his hand, his head, his heart. Probably he needed a cold shower and the non-broken hand. He wanted to smash his forehead into the refrigerator.
His mind kept replaying their last moment. What was he going to do without Luke?
*****
Noah chased to the still open door. "Luke. Wait." He hesitated, faced with Luke's heavy breath and the broken emotions so easily laid out before him.
"All we do is wait. For your father to accept us. For me to get better from the shooting. For Ameera to get her papers. I'm sick of waiting. I want to be alone with you right now. But I know. That can't happen. So until it can, I can't put myself in a situation where I feel worse than I already do." Luke's eyes glistened. Noah wondered if he knew how tense his neck was? That his hands shook?
"Can't I at least -?" Noah wanted to hurl, wanted to hold Luke until he got it, wanted, wanted wanted.
"What? Kiss me goodbye? Come on Noah, we can't even hug. The ICE might be watching."
*****
Luke mucked the stalls more violently than perhaps was necessary, but he couldn't think of anything else to focus on. He'd done dishes, mowed the lawn, and was running out of options. He knew he needed to do his laundry, but everything smelled vaguely of Noah and he wasn't ready to wash that away. God, he closed his eyes, I'm an idiot.
He returned to pitching hay. Screw that. Noah was the idiot. How could he have possibly thought this would be okay? How could he want to marry someone else? Fuck visas, fuck safety, fuck everything. Luke collapsed on one of the solid bales. He had agreed, told Noah it would suck, but he agreed with the decision. And like an idiot - which Noah was clearly - Noah had believed him, believed that it would suck, but it would be okay.
Luke should have married Ameera. Except the part where everyone in all of Oakdale knew he was queer. Which maybe put a damper on things, a little, but seriously, at least they could have stayed at the fucking farm then. Why hadn't he thought of that earlier? Right. Back to the whole here, queer, get used to it bit.
And he refused, absolutely refused, to not be out. Been there, done that, and god, it still hurt. A lot. Did Noah get that? Did Noah understand? Could he get him to? Maybe it would be easier if he wrote it down. Noah always got Invisible Girl. But seriously, what could Luke say?
Sometimes, Luke hated his life. A lot.
He wiped his hands on his jeans and went back into the farm. His laptop rested on the kitchen table. Smug bastard, it knew he needed to find a way to make it better. He had left. Insulted Noah, and left. When things at WOAK with Maddie, and even the Colonel for fuck's sake, looked like a walk in the park comparatively, Snyder, you have a problem A problem he needed to make better. He poured himself a glass of water while his computer started.
Noah -
I think I made a big mistake and I don't know how to take it back, how to fix it, how to do anything right now but sit at the farm and kick my own ass, feed the horses, and then kick myself some more.
Last night I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling for hours. I listened to The Pet Shop Boys on repeat for far too long. Sometimes it's creepy how much a song can hit you right there. I know I told you about my John Cusack fantasies, tall dark and handsome rescuing me and all. But last night I realized that I need to be the one in the trench coat and the boots with the stereo in my hands. I need to be under your window, letting someone sing their heart out to try and get you to understand. The problem is that, just like in the movie, I think you're going to close the curtain and turn away.
I wouldn't blame you. I'm an asshole. I screwed up and I hurt you and I can't even begin to explain what happened. I'll try. If you've read this far, maybe you can keep reading a bit longer? Please, Noah, for me, or for us, or heck, for you.
The truth is that sometimes you scare me. You give so much of yourself. Your body, your emotions, everything. You're always offering, giving, and trying to do the next right thing. I hate that you married Ameera. I never ever ever should have said it was okay. It's not, and I get that now. But I know that it has nothing to do with how you feel about me. And then you were so happy, so damned happy, and you'd bought food just for me even though you don't like it.
Noah, I didn't know what to do. You were so perfect in that moment. I saw this profound happiness on your face. And then we were in your bedroom, but she was there. And I knew you wanted me, I did. I knew that if I let myself, if I let us, that we could have been naked and I could have been inside you christening that damned bedroom from yours to ours. And that's what you wanted. You wanted that from me.
What can I give you Noah? What can I possibly offer to live up to your expectations of me? Nothing. I can't give the way you do. Certainly not in front of someone else. Definitely not while sharing the house with her. How much did things with Maddie suck? How much worse would things be with Ameera?
I'm selfish. I'll always take what you can give me, but the problem is that I don't know how to say no in any way other than the one I used. I want you. Just you. No one else. I'm pissed that you moved in with her, even though I know you did it for us. I'm furious that I can't say that to you. I don't know how to be grateful for something when what I want is everything.
I love you Noah. I want to be alone with you. I want that house to be ours. I don't know how to get what I want. I don't know how to be mature and grown up and work this out. I need your help. I need you. Please Noah, say you'll forgive me for being such a jerk. Tell me that if I drive by your house and stop, you'll let me in.
Please Noah. Forgive me.
Love
-Luke
Luke saved the letter and stared at it. He couldn't send it. He knew that. That letter was emotional blackmail of the worst kind. Jesus, even when he wrote it wound up sounding like it was Noah's fault. He shut his laptop.
What if he dropped the letter off and Ameera took it? What if Noah refused to see him? How was he going to survive if they were really over?
*****
The shower hadn't helped. It made things worse. And driving a truck to the hospital with only one working hand? That sucked a lot. And not in a warm, wet - shit! stop thinking about him - kind of way. The doctors said that nothing was broken, but they bandaged and splinted his right hand, gave him some pain pills and told him to go home before taking any and sleep for the next three days.
Sleeping for the next three days, with pharmaceutical help and medical encouragement sounded like perhaps the best idea Noah had heard in awhile. Normally the idea of mood altering substances, whether aspirin or alcohol, was just ... No. Not now. Not ever. But apparently even that could be negotiated, with Luke not speaking to him, and Ameera in the house giving him big sad eyes, ignoring the world with doctor's permission seemed fantastic.
He took the elevator to the pharmacy and turned in his prescription. The ache in his hand managed to shut out most of the ache in his heart while he leaned up against the wall and waited. He held his bad hand in the palm of his good one and closed his eyes. The note from the doctors burned a hole in his pocket with its promise of three days of salvation.
He shoved his still functioning hand into his pocket, reached for his cell. He dropped it back into his pocket just as quickly. Maybe it was imagination, but the damned thing felt like it was on fire. God, Noah just wanted to call Luke, beg him to come back, to let Noah apologize, to do anything just to be near him.
It had been weeks since they'd really been together. And that last time? Luke asking Noah to give him that and he had. And it had been amazing. Seriously. He pressed his spine against the wall, chewed at his lip. But damned if he didn't want Luke around him, inside him, filling him. Luke being so strong and making Noah so safe. Great. His boyfriend dumped him and he could still get hard just thinking about him. Those fucking pain pills couldn't be ready soon enough.
Noah growled under his breath and waited for his name to be called.
*****
Luke grabbed the keys to his grandmother's car. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't feel this way any longer, needed to see Noah. Hell, he needed Noah. period. His hands shook as he tried to turn the engine over. When was the last time this car had been used? He hit at the steering wheel with his left hand. "Don't you dare not work," he hissed. His desperation must have been the magic ingredient. The car started.
The drive over was interminable. Luke forgot how to breathe twenty-seven million times between the moment he turned onto the driveway until he was almost at the house. Glancing in his rear view mirror he saw what could only be Noah's truck. "Damnit." He pulled over quickly and ducked down. Noah probably wouldn't recognize the car, but he didn't need to know he was being stalked. Oh my god, I'm a stalker. I fucking ran out on my boyfriend and now I'm sitting in a car he won't know, spying on him. I'm pathetic. The thought was almost enough to get Luke to pull a U-turn and go, but Noah was easing himself from the truck and looked ... awkward?
Luke bit his lip. The small of Noah's back was exposed as he bent forward to pick something up. His mouth ached to kiss Noah's spine, suck bruises into his hips. Great, just great. A stalker with a fucking hard on. That was pure class. Luke frowned. Something was wrong with Noah's hand. It looked? Was it splinted?
Noah was hurt! Something had happened to Noah and Luke hadn't known. He reached for the car door, opened it quickly. He was going to puke right in the street. Noah hadn't told him, hadn't called. Who did this to him? How could someone have hurt Noah? How could Luke not have known? Luke's mind burned with unanswered questions, even while his stomach rioted and his lungs threatened to give up the ghost altogether.
By the time Luke's body was under control, Noah was gone. The street was empty. Luke ached to see Noah, to hold him, know he was okay, but not like this. Not now. He turned back to the farm, knew he needed a plan. Nothing was going to make sense until they were back together.
*****
Noah let himself into the house without thinking, winced at the pain that ricocheted through him. He needed water and his bed immediately.
"What happened?" Ameera sat on the sofa, a frown on her face, a piece of paper with ragged edges in her hands.
"Punched a wall," Noah offered by way of explanation. "Doctors gave me meds, said I was going to be useless for a little while and told me to get sleep." He sighed. His need to beat things was not her fault. "I'm not the best of company right now. Could you do me a favor? Show the note to my professors?" He fumbled for the message from the doctor. "Don't want them to think I'm blowing them off."
"You're hurt. Let me help you." She moved toward Noah.
"No. Ameera, just stay away." He stepped back, ducked around her. I know you're trying to help, but right now, you're not." Noah blinked at the coffee table. "Why is that there?"
"Why is what where?" She emptied her gaze.
He snatched up the paper. "You went through my things? This was private, Ameera. Personal. Just between me and Lu-" Noah's voice cracked. "You know what, I don't care. I'm going into my room. When I'm feeling human again, I'll come out. Just, stay out of my way right now. Okay. I'm going to wind up saying things I don't mean. And I won't be willing to take them back."
"Noah, if you love him..." She reached out to touch his arm. "Call him. I hate to see you hurting like this."
"It doesn't matter how I feel, Ameera. It's what he wants that counts, and he doesn't want me." Noah winced at the truth of his words, not ready to face them even as they came blurting out of his mouth.
"That's not true, Noah. Luke, he's hurt and confused. But he loves you. I know he does." She looked at his hand. Why was she always so irritatingly calm? "That dent in our, um, the kitchen wall? It's from you? I was worried something had happened."
Noah closed his eyes. Of course she would be. When people vanish in her world, they remained gone. "I'm sorry. i didn't think to leave a note." He paused. "I wanted to call Luke," Noah whispered. "But I couldn't. And after that ... " He shrugged.
"I'll bring you some water. Go lie down." She rubbed his shoulder. "You'll get through this. Both of you."
"You're sweet to say so, Ameera. I know I can't be what you want, but thank you. For everything." Noah's eyes fell to the paper still in his hands. He crumpled it and chucked it into the trash. "I think I need to be alone for awhile."
"Let me get you that water."
"Yeah okay." Once in the bedroom, Noah stripped to his shirt and boxers. He made sure to be under the sheet and covered before his -he rolled his eyes- wife returned.
"Here's the water." She sat on the edge of the bed, checked his temperature against her hand. "And just in case, I thought, I don't want you to give up hoping, Noah." Ameera tried to smooth out the paper as she left it on the bedside table. "Don't throw this away." She handed him the glass. "Get some rest."
Noah swallowed his pain pill and nodded. "Gonna sleep now." He closed his eyes and refused to cry until he heard the door close.
*****
Luke sat in Java, cup of coffee fisted between his hands. He jumped at the brush of fingers on his shoulder.
"Can I speak to you?"
He closed his eyes. This was not happening. "I can't be around you right now. Go away, Ameera."
She sat down across from him at the small table, met his gaze directly. "No."
"No?" Ameera never said no. What was that about? Her face was stiffer than usual, her shoulders tighter as well. "Is everything okay? With Noah? Did something else happen? Did someone hurt him?" The mug shook in his hand, sloshed scalding liquid across his fingers.
"Something else?" She seemed confused. "You mean his hand? But how did you know that he did that?" Her eyes widened before she cast them down.
"Ameera, is Noah okay? I saw him the other day with the splint on, but I didn't, I mean, I couldn't ... He didn't say a thing about it! I've been so worried." He bit at his lip. "Noah banged up that same hand in February. Bruised his knuckles."
She nodded. "He mentioned that."
Luke gritted his teeth. He didn't want to know what Noah mentioned to her, couldn't believe he was forced to get information from her either. "Bet he did," he muttered.
"His hand is fine now. The splint came off this morning. Noah's been sleeping a lot. The doctors warned him that would happen. I think not being able to use his hand made him even more miserable than he was." She smirked. "Maybe that will teach Noah to stop punching walls."
Luke's head shot up. "Wait? He did that to himself?" His brain reeled. The truck, February, Noah's hand. God. Noah hadn't known what to say then, and ... Damnit. Luke was such an idiot. World class. A-plus. Number one. Fool.
"This is what Noah said. And the kitchen looks the worse for it." Ameera covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's your grandmother's house. We'll make sure to repair it. Perhaps after he teaches me how to cook breakfast tomorrow." She hesitated. "Would you like to come over? Luke, this might not be my place to say ..."
"Yeah, well, don't say it then." Luke got up to leave, shoved his chair against the table.
"He needs you, Luke. He loves you so much." She stood up, blocked his exit. "I'm grateful for everything you two have done. I don't want it to destroy what you have."
"What we had, Ameera. Past tense. It's over. Why are you being so nice to me, anyway? I know how hard it is to watch him with someone else. Here's your big chance."
She shoved something into his hand. "I never had a chance, Luke. As as long as you're alive, no one else ever will." Ameera curled his fingers around the wrinkled piece of paper. "He'll be angry that I did this. As his wife, I know I should obey him. But Noah never said how to get rid of this letter. So I'm giving it to you."
Luke found himself speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "A letter?"
She nodded.
"I wrote him one too." He unfolded the paper, saw Noah's familiar scrawl.
"He never received it."
He shook his head. "I never sent it," he whispered.
Ameera smiled. "I have to get to class."
"Yeah, me too." Luke waved somewhere near her. His eyes were already drunk on Noah's words.
*****
Noah looked up from where he was teaching Ameera how to cook. His lungs felt like they might be a little too tight for the rest of forever. His hand wasn't thrilled to be holding the spoon. At least his fingers were once again mobile.
Ameera brushed flour off his face. His heart sunk. Why wasn't that Luke? It should have been Luke, damnit. And Noah felt awful, because he couldn't even try to hide it. They backed away from each other slightly and were stopped from any further awkwardness by the sound of the doorbell. Noah offered to answer it, told Ameera to keep cooking.
"Luke." Oh God. He was here. Hell. Wait, why was he hear? Noah's heart beat too loud. His lungs constricted more. "I didn't know you were coming here?"
"I had to." Luke stepped forward, stood in the living room. "Look, I don't know what I was thinking moving in here with you and Ameera. And the stuff I said when I left."
Noah swallowed. "You didn't say anything wrong." It had been him. All him. He was the idiot, not Luke. Never Luke.
"Yes I did. I made it seem like waiting for you would be the worst thing in the world, but if it meant waiting for you, or not having you in my life, I would wait. I would wait forever." He met Noah's eyes and Noah couldn't breathe again, still, whatever.
"You mean that?"
"Yes. Noah, what we have? This. Is real. And this is amazing. And it can survive all of this and I am so sorry if, if, something I said made you think otherwise."
"It was my fault too, okay? I, I should have made it more clear that there isn't anyone else I want in my life every day as much as you."
Noah's hand hurt. His lungs searched for the air they hadn't had in days. All he wanted was to grab at Luke and never let him leave again ever. He reached out. Luke stepped forward and into his arms. It wasn't resolved. He got that. But this was much closer to perfect than he had ever thought he would have again.