this chapter is a fucking
rollercoaster....be forewarned
(also so late SOWWY)

- 20 -

Noah was missing.

Kailey tried to ease my mind about it, insisting he probably went out exploring and lost track of time. He didn't attend the show, which didn't bother me, but he wasn't on the bus. I tried calling him, but worry consumed me when I heard the soft buzz of his phone's vibrations buried beneath the blankets on my bed.

So Noah was on his own somewhere in East Rutherford, New Jersey after dark without his cell phone.

"He's a big boy, Theo. I'm sure he's fine," Joey told me, standing on my tour bus with his phone in his hand. "But if he's not on this bus by midnight, we're leaving without him."

It was eleven-thirty.

What was I supposed to do? I didn't know how he was feeling before the show since I hadn't seen him. When I found his phone in the bed, I noticed a number of missed calls and voicemails from MacNeil again. The two minute, one-sided conversation I'd had with the man yesterday was enough to make me want to drink. I couldn't imagine what measures Noah was willing to take to try to block that out.

"He'll be here," I mumbled, dropping my body onto the couch. "He probably got lost. Travis is driving around looking, right?"

Joey hummed in affirmation. "Everything okay with you two now?" he asked and took only a half a second to look up from his phone screen to look at me accusingly.

"I thought so," was all I could say.

Because I really did. I thought after our conversation that we were on much better terms, because we were, right? We had a new level of trust and comfort within each other, or so I thought. I'd expect him to at least let me know if he was going to grab food or go on a walk or something. Even if we weren't necessarily close, we had a connection that neither of us could deny. I just wondered if it was strong enough to last any more of this.

Joey left to go let everyone know what (who) we were waiting on. I didn't sit idly for long, eventually resorting to occupying my hands in various ways to keep myself distracted. First, I tidied up the main area of the bus, throwing away tidbits of trash and collecting loose clothing items thrown aside by either Noah or myself over the past week. Then I resorted to changing the sheets on my bed because . . . what else are you supposed to do instead of worrying? After I busied myself with feeding Chester since Noah evidently couldn't be bothered to do so before he disappeared for hours on end, I heard the latch on the bus door click open.

"Just me," I heard my assistant Travis call out.

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, heading out to meet him in the sitting area. "Any sign of him?" I asked, but I knew the answer already.

Travis looked apologetic, as if it were his fault that Noah was so irresponsible. "No, and Joey asked me to come tell you that we can't wait any longer. We've got to be in Chicago by noon with only three stops scheduled," he said, a bit of an edge to his voice that told me he wanted to get the hell off this bus before I reacted.

The anger was starting to rise higher and higher, replacing the initial worry. I wasn't even sure who I was more angry with: Joey, for being so quick to leave someone behind in a strange city, or Noah, for getting us into this bullshit in the first place.

I took a deep breath. Travis was neither of those points of anger so I reined it in. "Tell him we're not leaving without him, please," I said. "You know what? I'll tell him myself."

Travis lingered awkwardly while I brushed right past him to storm off the bus. Theoretically speaking, they couldn't leave without me. So if Noah wasn't on the bus, I wasn't going to be either. Joey would surely throw a fit when he finds out, but I didn't give a shit. My priorities were straight as an arrow, all of them being my Noah.

As soon as I turned to descend the stairs, I was stopped in my tracks. Standing on the ground, in the doorway of the bus, there he was.

"What the fuck—"

"Don't," Noah murmured. "Just don't."

His face was bloodied and bruised. Dried blood, the color of a full-bodied Merlot, smeared the skin above his eyebrow and down his cheekbone in an old drip track. His right eye was swollen, nearly all the way shut, and his bottom lip was split at the corner. My jaw unhinged in shock, staring at the state that he was in.

I backed up until my back hit the entryway to the driver's seat. Noah sighed and climbed aboard, shuffling past me and a very perplexed Travis to go straight for the bathroom. I felt my stomach flip with anxiety.

"Travis, find me a first aid kit," I said, barely intelligibly. "Then we can go."

"Yes, sir," he nodded and set off.

Wasting no time, I followed Noah to the bathroom and opened the door. He was bent over the sink and aggressively scrubbing his face, the water running down the drain as an eerie pinkish color. I didn't know how to approach this, but I knew I had to.

I waited until he finished rinsing the dried blood off of his face to say something. "What happened?"

Noah glared at me when he took his face away from the towel he was gently dabbing his face with, careful to avoid the now open wounds on his forehead and lip. I noticed his pupils were huge, nearly blending in with the russet brown of his eyes.

"I got jumped, obviously," he said with an eye roll, but he winced at the motion. His words were slurring together, only furthering my suspicion that he was up to absolutely no good out there. "I want to go to bed."

I shook my head, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him from pushing past me. In turn, he grew even angrier. Noah shoved me backwards with two hands on my shoulders, slamming my back into the bunks across from the bathroom. He didn't spare me another glance before he turned and ducked into my bedroom, holding a hand to his forehead.

Oh, hell no.

Naturally, I followed him. "What the fuck do you mean, you got jumped?" I demanded, standing in the doorway while he started undressing for bed. "Everyone was so worried about you, Russo. I had Travis driving around looking for you since you disappeared without your phone. What the fuck is going on with you?"

He ignored me and kept on with sliding his jeans off. Travis returned with a first aid kit borrowed from the crew and left immediately so we could hit the road. Joey popped his head in to make sure everything was okay — it wasn't — and then I was alone with Noah. I sighed and gripped the metal first aid box in my hands tightly. Noah was laying on his back with one arm tucked under his head, eyes closed.

I grimaced at the realization that even with his face busted, he looked like a sleeping angel.

"Sit up and let me fix your face," I said, keeping my tone monotonous so he wouldn't think he was off the hook. Noah huffed, but didn't move. "I swear to God—"

"What? You swear to God what, Theo?" he snapped, following instructions by sitting up, but not to let me take care of him. "Can you just hop off my dick for two seconds? I get it. You want to fuck me, but this obsession with me is fucking weird, bro."

I was going to be sick.

He was breathing slowly, almost calmly, while I felt like I couldn't breathe at all. I stood my ground and stared back at the stranger in front of me. Sitting in my bed, eating my food, tagging along on my tour. Speaking to me like I was so far below him. Like I disgusted him.

"What are you on?" I asked, completely ignoring what he just said. "Don't tell me nothing."

"The fuck does it matter to you?" he asked and rolled his eyes.

I all but threw the first aid kit on the bed and let out a strangled noise of frustration. "Why the fuck do you think? I don't just want to fuck you, Noah, Jesus Christ. I care about you. You broke your sobriety not even a week ago and now you show up with your face fucked up because you got jumped and obviously on something since you're tweaking all over the place," I said, practically all in one breath because it had been pent up over the last two hours. "At this point? I don't even know if I want to fuck you anymore, because this version of you is really hard to be around."

Noah started laughing. I clenched my jaw. He had some fucking nerve.

"It's really cute that you 'care about me' since I only agreed to come for the money."

My cheeks flushed and I felt my mouth go completely dry. He was still getting paid to be here? I was going to kill Joey. After I confessed to having feelings for Noah Russo, he was still on my payroll. He's only saying all of this because he's on one. No matter how many times I tried to reassure myself, I couldn't accept it. He may have been spewing some addict's bullshit, but it had to be true on some level.

But even after the harsh words, I couldn't let it go. "Let me fix your face," I said again, this time sitting beside him on the bed.

"Too tired," Noah grumbled, trying to lay back down. I grabbed his wrists and tugged him up, receiving yet another deathly glare. "Theo—"

"Russo, I'm not going to ask again."

And just like that, he listened. Just like back in the hotel room, he submitted to my words and obeyed. He looked like a child, desperate for attention but reluctant to accept it in any form other than negative. I popped open the first aid kit and examined what all was in it, sighing when seeing there was no Neosporin or any other antibiotic cream, just basic medical supplies.

I left Noah alone for two seconds to grab some warm water, adding in some salt for him to swish around. He was still sitting there when I returned, a slight shiver to his shoulders.

He did as I instructed, spitting the slightly bloodied water back into the cup. I hesitated before sliding back on the bed and patting my lap for him to rest his head on so I could work at a more comfortable angle.

Noah stared up at me. Neither of us said a word. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but that would be too loud. It would shatter the silence between us, and possibly Noah, too. He might break into a million tiny pieces, right here on my bed and I couldn't take it.

I cleaned the cuts on his brow and lip with gauze dipped in alcohol, all with his eyes on me.

"What did you take?" I tried once more, and if it didn't work, I wouldn't try again.

He didn't answer for a second, almost looking right through me. I ignored his stare and focused on the task at hand. But finally, he answered, and I felt my heart sink. "Oxys," he mumbled. "And I drank a lot."

I sighed, finishing up the bandage I was applying to his eyebrow. When I was done, I didn't move and neither did he. I just ghosted my fingers over the curve of his jaw, wishing I understood just what went through his head. Just a glimpse would suffice. Sure, I knew the general reason why he was so fucked up. But I wanted more. I wanted to feel how he felt, to see what he saw.

Noah sat up, using my thigh to push himself up with. I discarded the first aid items and ran my fingers through my hair, not realizing the proximity between the brown haired boy and me. It was when he nudged his face close to mine, so close that I could smell the faint odor of alcohol on his skin, that I stilled.

He pressed his lips on mine so softly. I closed my eyes, basking in the feeling only momentarily while it lasted. And while Noah kissed me, I knew it was only because he was high. I knew it was because he was getting paid to.

I knew it all, but I didn't allow myself to care for one whole minute, just kissing my beautiful Noah: gently, so as not to hurt him, while allowing him to hurt me all the same.

In a twist of fate, I was the one to pull away.

"You should get some sleep," I whispered into the night, unsure of if he'd be cognizant of our kiss, or our dreadful conversation, tomorrow. As I stood up to leave him in the bed alone, I carded my fingers through his matted hair and spoke again, "I wish you would let me help you with your demon. I know how to make him go away."

Noah's eyebrows furrowed. I didn't wait for him to respond.

My heart ached desperately. All I wanted was for Noah to take me as I was, because I was more than ready to take him. Even with all of the shit like tonight that he continued to put me through, I wanted him. Maybe that made me a fool; I'd be the first to admit it, if true. But I felt an attachment to that man that was unlike anything I'd ever dealt with before and I wasn't willing to let it go so easily.

Figuring out if he was worth the trouble was going to be the hard part.

—

I wrote a song. It wasn't very good and my limited vocabulary was really showing, but it meant something to me.

It was about Noah.

I didn't know if I should tell him about it or not. There was the off-chance that I'd lay my vulnerability down, like my body on a surgical table, and he'd laugh in my face. Like he'd done last night.

He was still asleep even though we were almost to Chicago. I slept on one of the bunks, desperately needing the space from him. Even Chester didn't want to see his owner in such a state, sleeping in the crook of my elbow half the night and at my feet for the other. My back ached and my morale was disturbingly low. I wanted this tour to be over and we weren't even halfway through.

I texted Kailey about everything because I just couldn't handle dealing with it by myself. It was selfish of me to share Noah's business with someone else, but what could I do? Sit in this endless pit of uncertainty alone until Noah woke up and inevitably shut me out again?

That being said, I had no idea what to expect when he woke up. Would he be apologetic and try to backtrack? I'd imagine he'd wake up feeling some remorse for breaking my heart for the second time . . . then again, who knew? I hardly believed the crocodile sorrow anymore. Yes, Noah was going through his shit, but what about mine? What about me? I was allowed to hurt, too, right?

I sighed and hummed the tune I'd come up with for the fourteenth time, probably. It was stuck in my head.

Noah emerged from the room eventually, around two o'clock in the afternoon. I was still jotting down lyrics as they came to me at the table. My chin raised when I saw him in the corner of my eye, watching him carefully.

He had a throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders and over his head. The then swollen eye was now a deep, mulberry-purple bruise and the bandage I'd secured over his eyebrow was gone. Noah walked slowly and with a bit of a limp to his gait, making me wonder if the extent of his injuries were worse than just his facial lacerations.

Neither of us said a word while he chugged a water bottle, then went for another. I set my pen down and leaned back in my chair with my hands clasped behind my head, waiting for him to make the first move.

He was breathing erratically by the time the second bottle of water was empty. I watched a few drops dribble down his chin and onto his shirt from last night. "If you're waiting for me to apologize, get over it," he grumbled, tucking himself deeper into the blanket.

"I'm not," I said honestly. The last thing I'd expect from him was an apology at this point.

Noah, very slowly like an elderly person, sunk down onto the couch. I bit down on my tongue, trying really hard not to cop an attitude with him this morning. Clearly, the comedown from the Oxycontin was worse than your normal hangover. I wouldn't know since I was never big on pills other than the occasional partaking of Molly with Dustin. I do remember, however, every time we took it, the next day was miserable.

We stared at each other for what felt like ages. I didn't know what to say while he seemed to know exactly what not to.

"Where else is hurting?" I asked quietly.

He looked down at his body as if to examine his bones through two layers of fabric. "My chest. It feels like my lungs collapsed," he said, the most honestly I'd heard from him in the last twenty-four hours. I silently observed him toss the blanket to the side and raise the shirt up, revealing a nasty set of bruises along his ribs. They were so vibrant against his pale skin, it was almost beautiful. "Fuck."

"Who jumped you?" I asked, testing my luck a bit.

Noah lowered the shirt and leaned his head back against the couch, eyes on me. "Some guys at the bar. I guess they thought I had money, so they tried to rob me. I was already peaking from the Oxys so I was talking my shit, so . . . y'know," he shrugged, gesturing towards his face.

I decided to push the limits even further and try to redress his wounds. When I had the first aid kit and was approaching him, he surprised me by making room on the couch beside him so he could lay back down on my lap again, just like last night. It made my stomach flutter, reminding me of the kiss we shared. So he remembered it, at the very least.

He winced as soon as I dabbed his eyebrow with the alcohol soaked gauze. "This hurt a lot less when I was fucked up," Noah murmured, closing his eyes.

"Are you gonna fight me if I suggest going to the hospital when we get to Chicago?" I asked, holding a hand in his messy, and a bit greasy, hair. My fingers subconsciously combed through the dark curls as my other hand played doctor on his face. "Just to get your chest X-rayed?"

"No, I will."

"Good."

We were quiet while I finished. When he sat back up, he didn't kiss me this time. I think that was for the best.

For a moment, I just stared at him. He tried to stare back, but ultimately his eyes would roam to look at something else. Apparently, my eyes intimidated him more than I did. Noah, my Noah, was so battered and bruised, and I didn't even mean it literally. He was so soft and fragile and it pained me to know he couldn't handle his own mind. I'll handle it for you.

"Do you have a sponsor you should call or something?" I asked.

He frowned. "I should, shouldn't I?"

I nodded, bringing my knees to my chest as I watched him. He sighed and looked out the window, his brown eyes glowing like a chocolate fondue.

"His name's Jack. I . . . I don't know how he'll take it," Noah scowled. "He helped me through a lot of shit. I just know he's going to be really disappointed."

"Don't think about that," I mumbled, reaching over to touch his forearm. "I'll sit with you when you make the call, if you want."

Then his eyes found mine. I felt the breath in my throat hitch at the intensity behind those irises. So beautiful and careless and ultimately fucking terrifying. He slid his arm until my fingertips traced his wrist, down to his own hand. I wove my fingers between his and he gave me a gentle squeeze.

"I don't know why you won't give up," he said, his throat suddenly choking on the words. "I really don't get it, Theo. I wish you would just give up already."

I nibbled at the corner of my mouth before replying, "Give up on this ridiculous crush or give up on you?"

His lips twitched, a hint of a smile flashing before my eyes before disappearing. "Both," he said and then looked away again. "I am sorry, for what it's worth. Um . . . I think you already know what— who I've been dealing with and . . . I think I'm ready to . . ."

My heartbeat could be heard around the world. I know he was avoiding my stare but it felt like he was finally looking right at me. It felt like we could finally be on the same page for the first time since we reunited many months ago. I squeezed his hand and he turned his head, one purple eye and all, lips pressed together but speaking everything all at once.

"I'm ready to tell you everything."