Fic: Love Don't Die
Title: Love Don't Die
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 !verse of mine has been all about the sex until recently, so someone thought I ought to mention it.)
Word Count: 4.4k-ish
Summary: Noah is well and truly broken, and deals in the only way he knows how. He pushes away the person who could help.
Spoilers: There are quotes from the show all the way through June 16th of this year. If you aren't up to date, and don't want to be, don't read.
Disclaimer: This is mostly why Noah did what he did. I don't own anything or anyone related to this show. If I did it would be very very different. CBS and P&G, Van, Jake, I'm a little jealous of you all for owning yourselves and this story.
Notes: Much thanks, as always, to mightyten and extra thanks for helping me in a panic goes to vertigo66 It was suggested that I point out that all of this is in my little Magnets!verse, and in that happy place (or not so happy place currently), 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. Disappear Fear's Love Don't Die off Seeds in the Sahara because in the end it was it was about Noah thinking he should be able to rescue both himself and Luke, but that maybe it would be better if he did that just by leaving.
Noah stared around the bedroom he had shared with Ameera, forbade his gaze to land on his boyfriend. How had life gotten so damned fucked up? His brain hurt. His body hurt. His heart hurt most of all. He closed his eyes, inhaled to try and find anything to center or ground himself. He peeled the button down off his arms.
"What are you thinking?"
Noah bit at his lip. "I'm thinking that what you and I have is probably the best thing that ever happened to me. and that I love you."
"Well, iIm glad to hear it." Noah could hear the relief and the concern intermingled in Luke's words.
"And I'm sorry, because, with everything that's happened, I, Luke" Noah forced himself to make eye contact with Luke. "I, I think I need a break."
The brown of Luke's eyes shattered for a second, but he pulled it together and offered a small smile. "Well that sounds good. It's been a very very stressful week. We can just get cleaned up, get some food. We can go out to the pond."
"No, no, Luke, I need to take a break from us." Noah stared at the floor, not believing that he'd actually said it. Whether it was right or not, he wanted to take it back immediately, beg Luke to pretend that he'd never heard it.
"You, you need a break? from us?" Luke's voice cracked. He stepped away from Noah until his back pressed against the window. "What are you talking about? Noah, that's insane. You just said that we're the best thing that ever happened to you. You just told me that you loved me. You can't," Luke moved forward, into Noah's space. "You can't just take that back. You don't get to tell me you love me and then break up with me." He laid his hands on Noah's chest, fisted the red cotton in his fingers. "You don't get to do that."
Noah bit his lip. "I don't know what else to do, Luke. Jesus, I got on that plane with you and your grandmother and came back to Oakdale with my father's body god only knows where, and Ameera in a fucking jail cell. What am I supposed to do? How can I -" His voice caught and he couldn't finish the sentence. How can I love you when I'm this fucked up? "How can I ever fix how fucked up things are?" His knees wobbled.
"With me, Noah," Luke whispered. "Things will only be fucked up if we aren't together. Together we can help each other. Apart?" Noah experienced Luke's body shudder as if it were his own doing it. "God, Noah, I can't even say it. How can we be further apart than we've been since you got married? How do you expect me to go on?" His voice cracked.
"I don't know. I just don't know." Noah wrapped his arms around Luke. He tugged at his hips, held them together. "My brain won't shut up, and I don't know where I am. My father is dead, and I feel like a part of me died with him. Ameera's gone and maybe it's stupid, but I should have been able to save her. Why did I marry her in the first place, if it was all going to come down to this?" His throat closed. He had promised himself he wouldn't say anything, promised himself that he would push Luke away so someone had memories of him as strong, capable, anything other than the pathetic ass he was.
Luke cupped Noah's face in his hands, rubbed his thumb across his jaw. "You did it because it was the right thing to do, because you wanted to take care of her, because I said I would be okay with it." He dotted Noah's forehead with kisses as light as dragon flies on the water at the pond. "You're here. You're alive. I'm sorry your father's dead, Noah. I know you may not believe that, but I really am. Don't let his death be for nothing. Come out of it fighting. Come out of it with me."
"Oh god." That was it. Noah's eyes overflowed. He clung to Luke as he crumbled to the ground, legs giving out. He pressed his face into the hip of Luke's jeans. Every breath hurt. His skin felt too tight and his lungs were going to explode inside his ribcage. He whispered Luke's name over and over again, not knowing what else to say, not knowing how else to explain everything going on inside him.
Luke carded shaky fingers through Noah's hair. His other arm covered his shoulder in a tight grasp. "Noah? Noah, baby, it's going to be okay. Promise. We'll get through this. Come on, baby, stand back up. Everything's going to be fine. You'll see. Hush baby, hush." Luke widened his stance a bit, wrapped himself more fully around Noah.
Noah shook his head. His whole body shivered, burning hot and flush with the feel and scent of Luke so close, with the promises Luke gave so easily from his perfect lips. Maine ocean water in January couldn't have done a better job of numbing him. "I can't," he said. "I can't do this to to us, to you. Can't, can't, can't." He nuzzled closer, caught his lips against the hot strip of skin above Luke's jeans. His arms refused to move from their position around his boyfriend's waist. Noah was going to lose circulation, or bruise Luke, or both at that rate. He bit his lip and blinked back tears. How would Luke - with his whole family to support him - ever understand?
"Noah?" Luke's voice shook. The grip in Noah's hair tightened to almost painful and fuck if Noah didn't get hard and want more. Still, the stability and comfort Noah adored, needed, craved, was rocked off its foundation. Noah had done that. Noah had fucked it up. Another icy wave splashed over him. God. He was destroying everything he touched. Melodrama aside, it sure felt true. He was emphatically not taking Luke down. He'd done more than enough already.
"I can't. I can't do this to you." He swallowed. "Or to me." Noah knelt back, dashed tears from his eyes. He tipped his head back, thrown by the angle of Luke above him. "You're everything good, and wonderful in my world. You've done so much for me. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Luke crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I'm sensing a 'but' here."
"Yeah, you are." Noah stood, walked to the doorway. He couldn't look at Luke. This needed to be clean. For everyone. "I don't know what I'd do without you, but I don't know what to do with you here, either." He moved into the living room.
Luke followed. "So ... wait." He stopped in the doorway, paused. "You don't want to be with me anymore?"
Noah bit his lip. Why wouldn't Luke just get angry and go already? "I need to think, and I, I can't do that with you here."
*****
"You've never had that problem before." Luke ran his fingers through his hair. Luke closed his eyes, tried to make sense of what Noah said, but it failed to work. How could Noah not understand that they were stronger together? Why was he doing this? Whatever he said, it wasn't the truth. He could tell that in how Noah refused to meet his eyes, refused to stay still. That's it. Holy shit. That's it. "Admit it. You blame me. You blame me for Ameera being in custody, and hell, maybe even blame me for what happened to your father because he jumped in the water right after I called out to you." His stomach hurt like someone had sucker punched him. He wondered if it was possibly to spontaneously re-paralyze yourself, because god, he couldn't move, wanted to run away, wanted to fall over, wanted to collapse under the weight of whatever was wrong with Noah.
Luke propped himself against the door, held his breath. Noah's eyes were brilliant blue with his pupils expanded, and Luke could see him shaking, could see the veins in his neck, as his jaw remained clenched. When had the difference between Noah-right-before-orgasm and Noah-about-to-have-a-breakdown blended so they looked the same? Luke inhaled, remembered how difficult it had been for Noah to admit what he wanted, what he needed. How much of that had always been wrapped up in what Noah's father expected of him. Luke thought maybe he was going to puke. How many times had the influence of the Colonel followed them into bed?
The smash of the vase on the floor startled Luke. Twice Noah had fucked up his hand when he was lost for words, caught in the maze of his own emotions, but never had he let it happen in front of someone. Luke couldn't help but walk forward. "Stop. Here, let me clean that up."
"It's my fucking mess. I'll clean it up." Noah stared at the floor without focusing. "I'll clean it all up."
"I don't mind. Really." Luke held up his hands. "It's fine."
Noah shook his head. "It's really not. If things were fine, if I were fine, then none of this..." He swallowed, once, twice. "None of this would have happened."
Luke watched the bob of Noah's Adam's apple. "How can I help you?" He ached to close the distance between them, wanted to tackle Noah to the floor and fuck them both into oblivion to remind Noah of the reality of a warm body inside him, surrounding him, anything. He didn't care about the spill of tears down his cheeks. "What can I do?"
Noah turned without a word, fetched a broom and dustpan. He knelt next to the table that had held the picture of the fake marriage, and then the letter from Ameera telling them everything would be better now that she was gone. "I don't know. I don't have any answers Luke, I just, need a break from this."
The acid roiled in Luke's stomach. He needed to run, needed his family, his grandmother, needed his boyfriend who had left for New York City and somehow hadn't returned. "A break from me." Luke turned to the door of his grandmother's cottage. He spared a glance over his shoulder, wanted to say so much more, so afraid that anything he did would make it worse. I love you, you idiot. I love you so damned much. Luke slammed the door behind him, unwilling to see Noah's stiff-backed rejection.
*****
Noah wanted to speak but didn't. A million words, half thoughts, sentence fragments that couldn't connect from his brain and his heart to his mouth, to breath, to sound. He flexed his fist and the recent pain drummed in his knuckles mocking him, daring him to punch another wall. Wasn't shattering that vase enough? At least it proved how crazy you are. What if the shards had sprayed and caught Luke? Noah shuddered at the thought.
He surveyed the living room. Will and Gwen's party; Noah wound up going swimming with Luke after that. Will and Gwen offering the cottage for Ameera and him; Noah thought it was going to be the perfect way to see Luke, until Luke had freaked out and wouldn't get near him. The bedroom, where Luke and Noah had almost reunited, just to be interrupted by the fucking cops. He bit his lip, whimpered. The memory of Luke's hands on his skin. He remembered each button as it opened, each breath they had shared after such a long time. In the middle of everything, his goddamned dick betrayed him. There he was, in Luke's grandmother's living room, blindingly hard and ridiculously alone. What have I done? What was I thinking? Noah turned for the front door, wondered if he could catch up to Luke if he ran, sped in the truck, anything, just begged Luke to forgive him, take him back, hold him, love him like no one else had ever before or ever would again.
His nails bit at the wood of the doorframe. He couldn't do that to Luke. It wasn't fair to play with Luke's head like that, and in the end, Noah knew with every screwed up fiber of his being that loving Luke meant letting him go. The door shook on its hinges when he slammed it closed. His feet slipped as he bolted to the bathroom. The tension of the week caught up with him in heave after violent heave as he spilled his own confusion into the bowl of the toilet. His knees stung and his back hurt. Seconds, minutes, hours, days later, Noah lay on the cool tile of the bathroom and wondered if maybe he was really going crazy. Maybe whatever had twisted the Colonel was beginning to rear its ugly head in him?
***
Noah spent the next few days packing up the house and the next few nights dreaming fitfully of Luke. He wanted to kick himself for letting Luke's mom convince him to come to dinner, wanted to punch himself in the eye for every time he picked up the phone and thought about calling, begging, anything that would let Luke know not to give up on him. He ate and showered because he knew that's what he was supposed to do. The Colonel had instilled routine early on. Noah found it a relief that those basic patterns hadn't drowned with his father.
He sat in the living room with the box his aunt had mailed him. He added memories of Ameera, memories of the Colonel. It seemed wrong, blasphemous somehow, to place pictures of his father next to the mother he hadn't known - the mother his father had killed. Noah shook his head, ignored the hot brush of salt leaking down his face. Every set of stupid tears reminded him once again that he was never going to be the man his father had wanted. His brain more than willingly supplied memories of him crying in Luke's arms, of Luke telling him that it was okay, a good thing even.
Noah lost himself in his own head, moved methodically from box to box. He hadn't even thought of what he said to Luke when Luke showed up. Noah's heart beat in his throat and he felt weak with relief, desire, shame. He thought of the best way to push Luke away, the best way to make sure Luke couldn't see the cracks.
The fought about a shirt. When had I love you become Get away from me and why couldn't Noah stop it? The inside of his mouth hurt from how often he bit at it to keep his words in check.
The mention of Reg. Fucking Reg. Stupid god damned Reg who was right. Noah stared at the walls of his personal prison after Luke left again. Luke shouldn't be dating Noah. Luke shouldn't be dating someone insane, with more baggage than a fleet of Boeings. Luke should have someone as stupidly selfless as him. Someone who wouldn't look at Luke, know that his father had tried to kill him, and still mourn the bastard. Jesus, Noah thought, it might be easier if he just took up drinking and whoring himself around. No attachment, no nothing. Except that was a disgusting thought. And something the Colonel would have encouraged. So, no. Not going to happen.
Noah sat on the sofa, no one around him but pictures of the gone or dead in a box. He remembered being on base as a young kid, talking to some of the men as they wrote letters home. They all looked so serious, so sad, but he hadn't understood why at first.
"What are you doing?"
"Writing a letter, kid. What's it look like?"
Noah frowned. The marines were usually nice to him. "Is it a sad letter? Who's it for? Why are you sending sad letters?"
"Jesus, Noah, didn't the Colonel tell you not to bug us? I'm writing a letter to my fiancée, okay? Can you go now?"
"Fiancée? Like, your girlfriend or something? Why? Why would that be sad?" There was something going on behind the marine's eyes, but it didn't make sense to Noah. He put his small hand over the marine's, tried really hard to understand.
The marine gave in and sighed. "They're shipping me overseas, kid. It's in case something happens. In case I don't get to come back. In case," he swallowed, but he met Noah's eyes. "It's in case I die over there. I want her to know that I loved her. That she was the best and brightest part of me. Always." He ruffled Noah's hair. "So yeah, I'm sorry I griped at you, kid, but this is kicking my ass." He winked. "Don't tell your father I used that language. I really need to be alone right now. I'll catch you later." He frowned down at the crumpled piece of paper. "Promise."
How many of those marines had never returned? He slapped his forehead hard enough to see floaters. I'm an idiot! He couldn't believe he'd told Luke he could do that. And he really had? He really had pushed Luke away. Shit. This was a bad dream. Lucinda was going to be at the cottage any moment to make sure everything was in order, and to assess how much it would cost to fix the hole in the kitchen wall, and then ... and then what? Get down on his knees and beg Luke to forgive him? Go find Luke and shake him until he understands that all Noah needed was space to make sense of his sadness, his anger, the bitter taste of betrayal that lingered in his mouth when he mourned his father. What was any of that going to fix? Luke deserved better. Why would Luke even want him when there were stronger, braver guys out there who could be and were more direct, less confused? He sighed, went to the kitchen sink to splash water on his face. He suspected Lucinda would see right through that, but in the mean time, Noah had more boxes to pack.
Noah hadn't known what to expect from Lucinda, between the hole in the kitchen and the way he had treated Luke. He figured she'd demand the sun and the moon in damages and repairs. That's what his father would have done. If someone causes damage, you make them pay. That's what real men do. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Remember that, Noah. Real men know that. Instead she'd told him that he was family. Nearly had him in tears. And then, as if she knew, which she probably did - Lucinda was scary intuitive - she started talking about what could have been worse than just losing the Colonel. What could have happened had his heart stopping, his stomach threatening to rebel once again.
Lost, again, in his thoughts, Noah barely managed to process Lucinda's words. Luke hadn't been scared of anything since the accident. Not even when those assholes had jumped them on the way to Statesville. Not when he stood up - literally - to the Colonel and admitted for the first time that he loved Noah. Never scared. "He was scared?"
Lucinda had mastered the art of making someone feel like an idiot, even if she meant it with love. And god, he hoped she did mean it with love, because an angry Lucinda was a scary Lucinda. He just knew it. "Absolutely. In a panic, in a panic, he didn't know where you were. He just knew that your dad, your dad had you. He got himself on that boat without thought of bodily harm or anything. 'Cause he wasn't coming home without you."
She left shortly after, offered him another overly enthusiastic pat on the back, and said not to worry about the damage. These things happened, and the important part was that the damage was repaired while it still could be. Noah's head spun from the layers of metaphors, but he was pretty sure he got the point.
Luke.
He had to fix things with Luke. Noah spun the ring on his left finger, ran through every possible scenario in his head. In every one Luke walked away or gave him a black eye, or both. And every time it was totally justified. Regardless of whether Noah offered to blow him every day, multiple times a day, for the rest of forever. Which he was more than prepared to offer. His right fingers tightened over his left. The tiniest glimmer of hope seeped into his thoughts. It wasn't words, but it was a big step. The right step.
Noah slid the wedding band off his finger and left it on the table. He was free. And now he had to go find his boyfriend and ask him to please take him back
God, what if Luke wouldn't accept that? No. Fuck. He would. He had to. They needed each other. Noah drummed his bare fingers on the steering wheel of his truck as he headed toward Old Town. He didn't want to call Luke, couldn't handle if Luke hung up on him. But maybe he was at Java. That was as good a place as any to look. God favored the gay and the insane. Noah found the perfect parking spot close to Java's but not close enough that Luke could see the truck and bolt. He took a deep breath. You can do this, Mayer. Luke as much as told you he loved you. He'll forgive that you were a dick. Forgive you for pushing, hard and angry. But it wasn't him, and it wasn't you. Grief does funny things. He'll understand. Noah swallowed hard and almost wished for some form of liquid courage. But no, that would be beyond disrespectful, and he was done with that.
Each step toward Java felt like a hundred, through quicksand, in Death Valley, in July. Noah wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. He walked in, saw the disorganized chaos of Luke's blonde hair immediately, recognized the shirt. Oh God. Noah's eyes opened beyond wide. His tongue expanded. He was pretty sure he'd lost all the oxygen in his lungs, and maybe all of Java. Reg's beady eyes flicked an arrogant glance his way from the seat opposite Luke. He leaned his stupid hair and stupider shirt closer and laughed at something that Luke said.
Noah sped back out the door. He couldn't look back.
*****
Luke sat at the table, drummed his hands on his mug. He could do this. He could talk to Reg, maybe even try dating him. He could do this. He played with the hair at the back of his neck. Because this wasn't weird and awkward or anything. "Oh, uh, nothing. I was just, I was just thinking about something you said earlier. And I was wondering if, umm, if maybe you were right."
"Well if i said it, it probably was. So what did I say?"
Fuck Noah. Fuck Noah ... God ... Fuck Noah so hard, against the wall, on a bed, in the barn, he didn't care where. He needed Noah. Noah's warmth, Noah's strength. This wasn't fair to himself, but it really wasn't fair to Reg. He had zero interest in Reg in that way, or any way really, that wasn't just as a friend. It was Noah. Still Noah. Always Noah. Had been now for almost a year. Luke didn't envision that changing ever.
He shuddered. A cold line snaked up his spine as if someone were staring at him. Luke blinked at the weird smirk that flitted across Reg's face. "Oh, umm, nothing. Nothing. It's not a big deal. It. You know what, I, I probably shouldn't be here right now. I should. I should go." Luke picked up the box under his arm. The one he'd meant to give to Noah as a peace offering for saying what he had. He nearly knocked over the chair in his dash to get away from Reg, but it was so wrong, so super wrong. And there were no two ways about it.
Outside of Java, leaning his back against the wall, Luke inhaled. He wasn't ready, wasn't sure if he ever would be. He sniffed at the air. Definitely not ready, if he could still smell the combination of Noah's cologne and deodorant, even when Noah was nowhere around.
A few lyrics to make sense of the title:
I apologise
for taking sides
and putting this charade on parade
try to pretend
right to the end
that i could always rescue
you and i
god knows how
hard we tried
love don't die
it just hides
while we decide
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 !verse of mine has been all about the sex until recently, so someone thought I ought to mention it.)
Word Count: 4.4k-ish
Summary: Noah is well and truly broken, and deals in the only way he knows how. He pushes away the person who could help.
Spoilers: There are quotes from the show all the way through June 16th of this year. If you aren't up to date, and don't want to be, don't read.
Disclaimer: This is mostly why Noah did what he did. I don't own anything or anyone related to this show. If I did it would be very very different. CBS and P&G, Van, Jake, I'm a little jealous of you all for owning yourselves and this story.
Notes: Much thanks, as always, to mightyten and extra thanks for helping me in a panic goes to vertigo66 It was suggested that I point out that all of this is in my little Magnets!verse, and in that happy place (or not so happy place currently), 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. Disappear Fear's Love Don't Die off Seeds in the Sahara because in the end it was it was about Noah thinking he should be able to rescue both himself and Luke, but that maybe it would be better if he did that just by leaving.
Noah stared around the bedroom he had shared with Ameera, forbade his gaze to land on his boyfriend. How had life gotten so damned fucked up? His brain hurt. His body hurt. His heart hurt most of all. He closed his eyes, inhaled to try and find anything to center or ground himself. He peeled the button down off his arms.
"What are you thinking?"
Noah bit at his lip. "I'm thinking that what you and I have is probably the best thing that ever happened to me. and that I love you."
"Well, iIm glad to hear it." Noah could hear the relief and the concern intermingled in Luke's words.
"And I'm sorry, because, with everything that's happened, I, Luke" Noah forced himself to make eye contact with Luke. "I, I think I need a break."
The brown of Luke's eyes shattered for a second, but he pulled it together and offered a small smile. "Well that sounds good. It's been a very very stressful week. We can just get cleaned up, get some food. We can go out to the pond."
"No, no, Luke, I need to take a break from us." Noah stared at the floor, not believing that he'd actually said it. Whether it was right or not, he wanted to take it back immediately, beg Luke to pretend that he'd never heard it.
"You, you need a break? from us?" Luke's voice cracked. He stepped away from Noah until his back pressed against the window. "What are you talking about? Noah, that's insane. You just said that we're the best thing that ever happened to you. You just told me that you loved me. You can't," Luke moved forward, into Noah's space. "You can't just take that back. You don't get to tell me you love me and then break up with me." He laid his hands on Noah's chest, fisted the red cotton in his fingers. "You don't get to do that."
Noah bit his lip. "I don't know what else to do, Luke. Jesus, I got on that plane with you and your grandmother and came back to Oakdale with my father's body god only knows where, and Ameera in a fucking jail cell. What am I supposed to do? How can I -" His voice caught and he couldn't finish the sentence. How can I love you when I'm this fucked up? "How can I ever fix how fucked up things are?" His knees wobbled.
"With me, Noah," Luke whispered. "Things will only be fucked up if we aren't together. Together we can help each other. Apart?" Noah experienced Luke's body shudder as if it were his own doing it. "God, Noah, I can't even say it. How can we be further apart than we've been since you got married? How do you expect me to go on?" His voice cracked.
"I don't know. I just don't know." Noah wrapped his arms around Luke. He tugged at his hips, held them together. "My brain won't shut up, and I don't know where I am. My father is dead, and I feel like a part of me died with him. Ameera's gone and maybe it's stupid, but I should have been able to save her. Why did I marry her in the first place, if it was all going to come down to this?" His throat closed. He had promised himself he wouldn't say anything, promised himself that he would push Luke away so someone had memories of him as strong, capable, anything other than the pathetic ass he was.
Luke cupped Noah's face in his hands, rubbed his thumb across his jaw. "You did it because it was the right thing to do, because you wanted to take care of her, because I said I would be okay with it." He dotted Noah's forehead with kisses as light as dragon flies on the water at the pond. "You're here. You're alive. I'm sorry your father's dead, Noah. I know you may not believe that, but I really am. Don't let his death be for nothing. Come out of it fighting. Come out of it with me."
"Oh god." That was it. Noah's eyes overflowed. He clung to Luke as he crumbled to the ground, legs giving out. He pressed his face into the hip of Luke's jeans. Every breath hurt. His skin felt too tight and his lungs were going to explode inside his ribcage. He whispered Luke's name over and over again, not knowing what else to say, not knowing how else to explain everything going on inside him.
Luke carded shaky fingers through Noah's hair. His other arm covered his shoulder in a tight grasp. "Noah? Noah, baby, it's going to be okay. Promise. We'll get through this. Come on, baby, stand back up. Everything's going to be fine. You'll see. Hush baby, hush." Luke widened his stance a bit, wrapped himself more fully around Noah.
Noah shook his head. His whole body shivered, burning hot and flush with the feel and scent of Luke so close, with the promises Luke gave so easily from his perfect lips. Maine ocean water in January couldn't have done a better job of numbing him. "I can't," he said. "I can't do this to to us, to you. Can't, can't, can't." He nuzzled closer, caught his lips against the hot strip of skin above Luke's jeans. His arms refused to move from their position around his boyfriend's waist. Noah was going to lose circulation, or bruise Luke, or both at that rate. He bit his lip and blinked back tears. How would Luke - with his whole family to support him - ever understand?
"Noah?" Luke's voice shook. The grip in Noah's hair tightened to almost painful and fuck if Noah didn't get hard and want more. Still, the stability and comfort Noah adored, needed, craved, was rocked off its foundation. Noah had done that. Noah had fucked it up. Another icy wave splashed over him. God. He was destroying everything he touched. Melodrama aside, it sure felt true. He was emphatically not taking Luke down. He'd done more than enough already.
"I can't. I can't do this to you." He swallowed. "Or to me." Noah knelt back, dashed tears from his eyes. He tipped his head back, thrown by the angle of Luke above him. "You're everything good, and wonderful in my world. You've done so much for me. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Luke crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I'm sensing a 'but' here."
"Yeah, you are." Noah stood, walked to the doorway. He couldn't look at Luke. This needed to be clean. For everyone. "I don't know what I'd do without you, but I don't know what to do with you here, either." He moved into the living room.
Luke followed. "So ... wait." He stopped in the doorway, paused. "You don't want to be with me anymore?"
Noah bit his lip. Why wouldn't Luke just get angry and go already? "I need to think, and I, I can't do that with you here."
*****
"You've never had that problem before." Luke ran his fingers through his hair. Luke closed his eyes, tried to make sense of what Noah said, but it failed to work. How could Noah not understand that they were stronger together? Why was he doing this? Whatever he said, it wasn't the truth. He could tell that in how Noah refused to meet his eyes, refused to stay still. That's it. Holy shit. That's it. "Admit it. You blame me. You blame me for Ameera being in custody, and hell, maybe even blame me for what happened to your father because he jumped in the water right after I called out to you." His stomach hurt like someone had sucker punched him. He wondered if it was possibly to spontaneously re-paralyze yourself, because god, he couldn't move, wanted to run away, wanted to fall over, wanted to collapse under the weight of whatever was wrong with Noah.
Luke propped himself against the door, held his breath. Noah's eyes were brilliant blue with his pupils expanded, and Luke could see him shaking, could see the veins in his neck, as his jaw remained clenched. When had the difference between Noah-right-before-orgasm and Noah-about-to-have-a-breakdown blended so they looked the same? Luke inhaled, remembered how difficult it had been for Noah to admit what he wanted, what he needed. How much of that had always been wrapped up in what Noah's father expected of him. Luke thought maybe he was going to puke. How many times had the influence of the Colonel followed them into bed?
The smash of the vase on the floor startled Luke. Twice Noah had fucked up his hand when he was lost for words, caught in the maze of his own emotions, but never had he let it happen in front of someone. Luke couldn't help but walk forward. "Stop. Here, let me clean that up."
"It's my fucking mess. I'll clean it up." Noah stared at the floor without focusing. "I'll clean it all up."
"I don't mind. Really." Luke held up his hands. "It's fine."
Noah shook his head. "It's really not. If things were fine, if I were fine, then none of this..." He swallowed, once, twice. "None of this would have happened."
Luke watched the bob of Noah's Adam's apple. "How can I help you?" He ached to close the distance between them, wanted to tackle Noah to the floor and fuck them both into oblivion to remind Noah of the reality of a warm body inside him, surrounding him, anything. He didn't care about the spill of tears down his cheeks. "What can I do?"
Noah turned without a word, fetched a broom and dustpan. He knelt next to the table that had held the picture of the fake marriage, and then the letter from Ameera telling them everything would be better now that she was gone. "I don't know. I don't have any answers Luke, I just, need a break from this."
The acid roiled in Luke's stomach. He needed to run, needed his family, his grandmother, needed his boyfriend who had left for New York City and somehow hadn't returned. "A break from me." Luke turned to the door of his grandmother's cottage. He spared a glance over his shoulder, wanted to say so much more, so afraid that anything he did would make it worse. I love you, you idiot. I love you so damned much. Luke slammed the door behind him, unwilling to see Noah's stiff-backed rejection.
*****
Noah wanted to speak but didn't. A million words, half thoughts, sentence fragments that couldn't connect from his brain and his heart to his mouth, to breath, to sound. He flexed his fist and the recent pain drummed in his knuckles mocking him, daring him to punch another wall. Wasn't shattering that vase enough? At least it proved how crazy you are. What if the shards had sprayed and caught Luke? Noah shuddered at the thought.
He surveyed the living room. Will and Gwen's party; Noah wound up going swimming with Luke after that. Will and Gwen offering the cottage for Ameera and him; Noah thought it was going to be the perfect way to see Luke, until Luke had freaked out and wouldn't get near him. The bedroom, where Luke and Noah had almost reunited, just to be interrupted by the fucking cops. He bit his lip, whimpered. The memory of Luke's hands on his skin. He remembered each button as it opened, each breath they had shared after such a long time. In the middle of everything, his goddamned dick betrayed him. There he was, in Luke's grandmother's living room, blindingly hard and ridiculously alone. What have I done? What was I thinking? Noah turned for the front door, wondered if he could catch up to Luke if he ran, sped in the truck, anything, just begged Luke to forgive him, take him back, hold him, love him like no one else had ever before or ever would again.
His nails bit at the wood of the doorframe. He couldn't do that to Luke. It wasn't fair to play with Luke's head like that, and in the end, Noah knew with every screwed up fiber of his being that loving Luke meant letting him go. The door shook on its hinges when he slammed it closed. His feet slipped as he bolted to the bathroom. The tension of the week caught up with him in heave after violent heave as he spilled his own confusion into the bowl of the toilet. His knees stung and his back hurt. Seconds, minutes, hours, days later, Noah lay on the cool tile of the bathroom and wondered if maybe he was really going crazy. Maybe whatever had twisted the Colonel was beginning to rear its ugly head in him?
***
Noah spent the next few days packing up the house and the next few nights dreaming fitfully of Luke. He wanted to kick himself for letting Luke's mom convince him to come to dinner, wanted to punch himself in the eye for every time he picked up the phone and thought about calling, begging, anything that would let Luke know not to give up on him. He ate and showered because he knew that's what he was supposed to do. The Colonel had instilled routine early on. Noah found it a relief that those basic patterns hadn't drowned with his father.
He sat in the living room with the box his aunt had mailed him. He added memories of Ameera, memories of the Colonel. It seemed wrong, blasphemous somehow, to place pictures of his father next to the mother he hadn't known - the mother his father had killed. Noah shook his head, ignored the hot brush of salt leaking down his face. Every set of stupid tears reminded him once again that he was never going to be the man his father had wanted. His brain more than willingly supplied memories of him crying in Luke's arms, of Luke telling him that it was okay, a good thing even.
Noah lost himself in his own head, moved methodically from box to box. He hadn't even thought of what he said to Luke when Luke showed up. Noah's heart beat in his throat and he felt weak with relief, desire, shame. He thought of the best way to push Luke away, the best way to make sure Luke couldn't see the cracks.
The fought about a shirt. When had I love you become Get away from me and why couldn't Noah stop it? The inside of his mouth hurt from how often he bit at it to keep his words in check.
The mention of Reg. Fucking Reg. Stupid god damned Reg who was right. Noah stared at the walls of his personal prison after Luke left again. Luke shouldn't be dating Noah. Luke shouldn't be dating someone insane, with more baggage than a fleet of Boeings. Luke should have someone as stupidly selfless as him. Someone who wouldn't look at Luke, know that his father had tried to kill him, and still mourn the bastard. Jesus, Noah thought, it might be easier if he just took up drinking and whoring himself around. No attachment, no nothing. Except that was a disgusting thought. And something the Colonel would have encouraged. So, no. Not going to happen.
Noah sat on the sofa, no one around him but pictures of the gone or dead in a box. He remembered being on base as a young kid, talking to some of the men as they wrote letters home. They all looked so serious, so sad, but he hadn't understood why at first.
"What are you doing?"
"Writing a letter, kid. What's it look like?"
Noah frowned. The marines were usually nice to him. "Is it a sad letter? Who's it for? Why are you sending sad letters?"
"Jesus, Noah, didn't the Colonel tell you not to bug us? I'm writing a letter to my fiancée, okay? Can you go now?"
"Fiancée? Like, your girlfriend or something? Why? Why would that be sad?" There was something going on behind the marine's eyes, but it didn't make sense to Noah. He put his small hand over the marine's, tried really hard to understand.
The marine gave in and sighed. "They're shipping me overseas, kid. It's in case something happens. In case I don't get to come back. In case," he swallowed, but he met Noah's eyes. "It's in case I die over there. I want her to know that I loved her. That she was the best and brightest part of me. Always." He ruffled Noah's hair. "So yeah, I'm sorry I griped at you, kid, but this is kicking my ass." He winked. "Don't tell your father I used that language. I really need to be alone right now. I'll catch you later." He frowned down at the crumpled piece of paper. "Promise."
How many of those marines had never returned? He slapped his forehead hard enough to see floaters. I'm an idiot! He couldn't believe he'd told Luke he could do that. And he really had? He really had pushed Luke away. Shit. This was a bad dream. Lucinda was going to be at the cottage any moment to make sure everything was in order, and to assess how much it would cost to fix the hole in the kitchen wall, and then ... and then what? Get down on his knees and beg Luke to forgive him? Go find Luke and shake him until he understands that all Noah needed was space to make sense of his sadness, his anger, the bitter taste of betrayal that lingered in his mouth when he mourned his father. What was any of that going to fix? Luke deserved better. Why would Luke even want him when there were stronger, braver guys out there who could be and were more direct, less confused? He sighed, went to the kitchen sink to splash water on his face. He suspected Lucinda would see right through that, but in the mean time, Noah had more boxes to pack.
Noah hadn't known what to expect from Lucinda, between the hole in the kitchen and the way he had treated Luke. He figured she'd demand the sun and the moon in damages and repairs. That's what his father would have done. If someone causes damage, you make them pay. That's what real men do. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Remember that, Noah. Real men know that. Instead she'd told him that he was family. Nearly had him in tears. And then, as if she knew, which she probably did - Lucinda was scary intuitive - she started talking about what could have been worse than just losing the Colonel. What could have happened had his heart stopping, his stomach threatening to rebel once again.
Lost, again, in his thoughts, Noah barely managed to process Lucinda's words. Luke hadn't been scared of anything since the accident. Not even when those assholes had jumped them on the way to Statesville. Not when he stood up - literally - to the Colonel and admitted for the first time that he loved Noah. Never scared. "He was scared?"
Lucinda had mastered the art of making someone feel like an idiot, even if she meant it with love. And god, he hoped she did mean it with love, because an angry Lucinda was a scary Lucinda. He just knew it. "Absolutely. In a panic, in a panic, he didn't know where you were. He just knew that your dad, your dad had you. He got himself on that boat without thought of bodily harm or anything. 'Cause he wasn't coming home without you."
She left shortly after, offered him another overly enthusiastic pat on the back, and said not to worry about the damage. These things happened, and the important part was that the damage was repaired while it still could be. Noah's head spun from the layers of metaphors, but he was pretty sure he got the point.
Luke.
He had to fix things with Luke. Noah spun the ring on his left finger, ran through every possible scenario in his head. In every one Luke walked away or gave him a black eye, or both. And every time it was totally justified. Regardless of whether Noah offered to blow him every day, multiple times a day, for the rest of forever. Which he was more than prepared to offer. His right fingers tightened over his left. The tiniest glimmer of hope seeped into his thoughts. It wasn't words, but it was a big step. The right step.
Noah slid the wedding band off his finger and left it on the table. He was free. And now he had to go find his boyfriend and ask him to please take him back
God, what if Luke wouldn't accept that? No. Fuck. He would. He had to. They needed each other. Noah drummed his bare fingers on the steering wheel of his truck as he headed toward Old Town. He didn't want to call Luke, couldn't handle if Luke hung up on him. But maybe he was at Java. That was as good a place as any to look. God favored the gay and the insane. Noah found the perfect parking spot close to Java's but not close enough that Luke could see the truck and bolt. He took a deep breath. You can do this, Mayer. Luke as much as told you he loved you. He'll forgive that you were a dick. Forgive you for pushing, hard and angry. But it wasn't him, and it wasn't you. Grief does funny things. He'll understand. Noah swallowed hard and almost wished for some form of liquid courage. But no, that would be beyond disrespectful, and he was done with that.
Each step toward Java felt like a hundred, through quicksand, in Death Valley, in July. Noah wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. He walked in, saw the disorganized chaos of Luke's blonde hair immediately, recognized the shirt. Oh God. Noah's eyes opened beyond wide. His tongue expanded. He was pretty sure he'd lost all the oxygen in his lungs, and maybe all of Java. Reg's beady eyes flicked an arrogant glance his way from the seat opposite Luke. He leaned his stupid hair and stupider shirt closer and laughed at something that Luke said.
Noah sped back out the door. He couldn't look back.
*****
Luke sat at the table, drummed his hands on his mug. He could do this. He could talk to Reg, maybe even try dating him. He could do this. He played with the hair at the back of his neck. Because this wasn't weird and awkward or anything. "Oh, uh, nothing. I was just, I was just thinking about something you said earlier. And I was wondering if, umm, if maybe you were right."
"Well if i said it, it probably was. So what did I say?"
Fuck Noah. Fuck Noah ... God ... Fuck Noah so hard, against the wall, on a bed, in the barn, he didn't care where. He needed Noah. Noah's warmth, Noah's strength. This wasn't fair to himself, but it really wasn't fair to Reg. He had zero interest in Reg in that way, or any way really, that wasn't just as a friend. It was Noah. Still Noah. Always Noah. Had been now for almost a year. Luke didn't envision that changing ever.
He shuddered. A cold line snaked up his spine as if someone were staring at him. Luke blinked at the weird smirk that flitted across Reg's face. "Oh, umm, nothing. Nothing. It's not a big deal. It. You know what, I, I probably shouldn't be here right now. I should. I should go." Luke picked up the box under his arm. The one he'd meant to give to Noah as a peace offering for saying what he had. He nearly knocked over the chair in his dash to get away from Reg, but it was so wrong, so super wrong. And there were no two ways about it.
Outside of Java, leaning his back against the wall, Luke inhaled. He wasn't ready, wasn't sure if he ever would be. He sniffed at the air. Definitely not ready, if he could still smell the combination of Noah's cologne and deodorant, even when Noah was nowhere around.
A few lyrics to make sense of the title:
I apologise
for taking sides
and putting this charade on parade
try to pretend
right to the end
that i could always rescue
you and i
god knows how
hard we tried
love don't die
it just hides
while we decide