Trigger Warning: Verbal/physical abuse, depression, self-harm/injury/suicide

* * * 

There wasn't much food in Andy's kitchen, but Noah found enough to make pasta and sauce, wanted to give Andy something substantial and simple. It took almost half an hour to make, and he ascended the stairs with a bowl of it in his hand and a glass of water in the other.

Outside the bedroom, he stopped. The door was open and he could see Andy lying on the bed either asleep or close to being asleep. 

"Andy?" Noah spoke. 

Andy flinched at the voice, opening his eyes and locating Noah in the dull light of the room. 

"I made you some pasta, I'll leave it on the side, okay?" 

Andy sat up slowly, watching Noah place the food and water on the bedside table. "Thanks," he said quietly, moving to pick up the bowl. He was incredibly hungry and felt stupid for not even being able to make himself food the past week.

"Do you want me go?" Noah asked. He figured it was better to ask regularly than to assume Andy would tell him if he did need him to go. At least by asking, he was making it easier for him to say, since Andy wasn't having to be the one to bring it up. 

Stabbing at tubes of pasta with the fork, Andy said, "Can you stay?" 

"Of course." Noah sat on the deep windowsill. 

"Will he - will he come back?" 

"I really hope not. It must have been so scary earlier when he showed up. I'm sorry you had to deal with that. My friend Nick is with him at the moment but I'm not sure what's going to happen after tonight." 

Andy swallowed a mouthful of the pasta. "I'm scared," he then mumbled. "If he comes back." 

"I know. You have every right to be."

"Maybe he - maybe he'll get in, and - and..." Andy couldn't finish the sentence. He returned the fork to the bowl. "I don't - I can't - I can't do it again. What if he comes back and - and I have to - I have to do it again?"  He was beginning to cry again. "I can't - I - I can't do it again, I'd rather just - I'd rather die." 

"Are you thinking of doing that?" Noah asked levelly. "Dying, I mean?" 

Andy shrugged. Ate another forkful. Said, "If I already did it, I wouldn't - none of today would have happened. And anyway, like, what's the point in - in staying here when I can't - I didn't even eat because I'm - I'm so weak." 

"No, you're not weak. You're anything but that. You're so resilient for all that you've been put through. It's okay to be having a really hard time right now, anyone in your position would be." 

"I don't want to feel anymore." 

"I don't blame you. You must be hurting so much in so many ways. It's okay to want that to stop." 

"I need it to," Andy mumbled. 

"Do you have a plan?" Noah asked. "If you're thinking of ending your life. Is there a plan you have in mind?" 

"I don't know. Cutting." 

"Is that why you cut yourself earlier?" 

"No, I just - I don't know. I just did." He swallowed. "Nothing helps anymore. It all just hurts." 

"Can I help you to find something that does help? Something that doesn't include hurting yourself?" 

Andy glanced away from Noah and at the pasta. "Oh. I don't - I don't know." 

"That's okay." 

"Do you think I should kill myself?" 

"No, of course not. I think it's okay that you want to and you have every right to be thinking about it, but I don't think you should. But I'm not going to tell you what to do and if you decide you need to do that, then it's your choice, okay?" It was slightly strange for Noah to be telling Andy that he could kill himself and wouldn't be stopped, but he knew it was better than telling him not to. Andy needed to know he was in control and that meant being in control of everything. Noah hoped that by giving him that reassurance, he'd then decide for himself that he didn't want to die, that life was liveable when he could make his own decisions. 

Andy was quiet for a while, continuing to eat. Then he said, "Okay." 

"Is the pasta okay?" 

"Yeah. Thanks." 

"You're welcome." 

Andy finished his food quietly, watching Noah doing something on his phone, and picked up the glass of water once the pasta was gone. He gulped it down, hadn't realised how thirsty he was. 

Noah looked up from his phone. "Can I get you anything else?" He asked. 

Andy shook his head. 

"Do you want me go?" 

He shook his head again. 

"If you want to go to sleep, I can go downstairs. I don't want to stop you from getting some sleep." 

"But you'll stay?" 

"As long as need me, I'm here." 

"Okay." 

"Are you worried he'll come back while you're asleep?" 

Andy nodded. Just the thought was making him teary. 

"I'll go and sit downstairs, and if he turns up, I'll deal with it, okay? And you can text me if you need anything." 

"Okay. Thank you." 

"You're welcome. I hope you sleep okay. Let me know if you need anything." 

"Okay." Andy watched him stand up and walk around the bed to the door. "Noah?" He mumbled. 

Noah turned around in the doorway. 

"Thank you." 

"Of course. You're welcome." 

Once he had left the room, closing the door gently behind him, Andy moved under the covers and settled into the pillow. He felt a lot calmer knowing that Noah was still in the house if Jude were to show up, and was beyond thankful that Noah hadn't broken any of his promises so far because it made it much easier to believe and trust him. His headache persisted, but the painkillers finally had kicked in so the pain was more manageable.

What the day would have turned into if Noah hadn't given his up to help, Andy didn't even want to think about.