I am walking in the dark, with Noah by my side.

It’s late. The moon is half-shrouded by clouds, its diffuse light forming pockets of deep shadow. It warmed up a little today, and some of the snow melted, eventually transforming into the light fog now floating around us.

The neon signs in the shops we walk past create a glow that comes tumbling down onto the puddles, slides over the wet pavement, and catches in the mist. Bluish smoke and light, everywhere I turn.

Noah looks right at home in this environment.

We’re almost to my car, and when we get there, I’ll be dropping him off back at the house. My window of opportunity is shrinking by the minute.

I glance over at Noah, who turns his head and narrows his eyes at me.

“Bro, why do you keep looking at me like that?”

I quickly face forward again. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Like you’ve got something to say?” Noah stops on the passenger’s side of my car and leans his elbows on the roof, raising an eyebrow. “Spit it out, man.”

I stop on the driver’s side, fidgeting with my keys.

I’m starting to really understand why Raj and Mel have been so reluctant to talk to Noah about their situation.

When I talked to them, the worst that could have happened was that they might have been upset with me. But with Noah, the worst that can happen is that he skips town or something, just up and disappears, and then the whole thing will fall apart, and dear god it will be my fault -

It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine, and I’m totally calm.

“Dude, what's wrong with you?” Noah chuckles, clearly getting some amusement from whatever expression is on my face. “Looks like we’re headed towards a classic Jamie conniption, but I don’t get why.”

“Excuse me?” I make a sour face at him across the roof of the car. “A classic Jamie conniption?”

“What, you don’t like the kicks I picked out?” Noah glances down at his new boots, which he wore out of the shop. “Is that what’s going on here?”

This is something I can latch onto in order to steer us away from what I’m really thinking about, so I do.

“Why do you care about my opinion on your new shoes? In fact, why did you ask me to come with you to pick them out? Because I’m gay? That’s prejudiced.”

“No, you fucking nitwit, it was because-“

“I’ve worn pretty much nothing but Converse for more than two-thirds of my life, just so you know. I have zero shoe opinions.”

“That’s not fucking why, man, I had to get new ones, it sounded boring to go by myself, and…” Noah shrugs his shoulders. “I just felt like chillin'. But let’s be real, obviously you do have shoe opinions. You have an opinion on everything. And you’re all pressed about which boots I got.”

“It’s not about that,” I answer, and Noah tips his head to the side.

“Okay,” he says slowly, “So - what is it about, then?”

There are two very different ways this conversation can go, depending on what I say next. I have to make a choice, and fast. He’s given me a perfect opening to bring this up with him, but only because he has no idea what I want to talk to him about.

I just can't shake the nagging feeling that it’s going to hit Noah so hard, for me to bring this up completely out of the blue.

The thought makes my heart stumble, and my nerves win out.

“I’m not concerned about the new shoes,” I say, “But I am troubled by the decision to keep the old ones.”

Noah holds up his old pair of boots and looks at them appraisingly, like he’s trying to figure out what I mean. As if it's not abundantly clear.

They’re practically crumbling apart, the soles worn so thin that they’ve almost disappeared. A thousand flecks of paint, a lot of embedded construction dust, and even a sooty black burn scar the faded surfaces.

“Those things,” I tell Noah, “Look like they have been through multiple world wars. Like, ten to fifteen world wars. And then a twenty-year-long, nonstop construction project, where every person involved ignored every single OSHA guideline in existence.”

Noah looks down at them, then back up at me.

“Are you trying to make them sound dope? Because that does.”

“Literally just put them in the trash can, Noah, there’s one right behind you.”

“Negative.” He grins widely, and winks at me. “Gotta hold onto a vintage pair, bro.”

“Vintage! I feel like that’s an extremely generous-“

“Fuck how you feel!”

I scowl at Noah, planting a hand on my hip. “Do you want my goddamn shoe opinions, or not?”

“Oh, so you do have shoe opinions, then?”

I press my hands over my eyes and groan so loudly that Noah bursts out laughing. I try to glare at him, but I break down and start laughing, too.

“I hate you,” I tell him.

“Okay.”

“On many levels.”

“Right.”

“And you absolutely shouldn’t keep that junk just for sentimental purposes.”

“Says the man driving this,” Noah laughs, tapping a finger on the frosty roof of my car.

I scowl at him again. “That’s different!”

“Why, exactly?”

“Because those boots look like they’ve been around since like, the 1940s. I bet they could give you polio, somehow. Or give it to Nik. Don’t want that, do you?”

“Shit no, man. Of course not.” The wind pulls Noah’s long hair into his eyes, and he sets the old boots down on the curbside, finger-combing his hair into a bun. “Top priority is keeping Nik safe. Why do you think I got a new pair of ass-kickers?”

I stare at him, surprised. “Is that why? Because of Nikita?”

“Duh. Send the message that no one better mess with my girl.” Noah was looking down at his new boots - which really do look heavy enough to do damage - but now he quickly glances back up at me, realizing what he said. “Or - not - not my-” He breaks off, winds an elastic around his hair, and flaps a hand at me. “You know what I mean.”

I know what he means better than he does, and I’m struggling hard to find a way to say it.

Despite Noah’s relaxed demeanor, I can tell that it’s weighing on him. I see it in the small gestures. He keeps fidgeting with his lip piercing, losing his train of thought, slipping into silent distraction. It only takes one mention of Raj or Melanie - or even Nikita - and something moves behind his grey eyes, pulling him away. He’ll still smile and talk like he’s here, but he’s somewhere else.

I know that Raj is holding it together well, and I know that Melanie is not, but - where is Noah, on that scale?

Maybe he’s not holding it together at all. Maybe he’s just very good at hiding the ways in which he’s coming apart.

Something tells me that might be the case. His calm-cool-fine act is way more convincing than mine, but... whenever I catch a flash of vulnerability in his eyes, he seems crushed beneath the weight of everything on his mind.

It only ever reveals itself for a few seconds at a time. I see it there right now. Even in the dark, even with Noah's face half-hidden in the blue shadows of night and neon.

He fidgets again with his lip piercing, then glances away.

It’s getting late, and the swollen clouds overhead are threatening more snow, but… whatever.

“Hey.” I hold up my keys. “You want to go for a drive?”

Noah blinks, and just like that, he’s completely relaxed again. On the surface, anyways.

No wonder I never picked up on how unhappy he was with Ralph and Grant, no matter how many run-ins we had before he escaped.

“Drive where?”

“Wherever, I don’t care. Although I really shouldn’t let you drive my car, not after all the insults you’ve been laying down on it.”

Noah puts a hand to his chest, like he’s hurt by the accusation. “Me?”

“Just get in, you bastard,” I laugh, and toss him the keys.

He snatches them out of the air, considers for a moment, then strides around the hood to swap sides with me.

Like last time, he rolls all of the windows down, lets the cold air come rushing into the car. Hazy moonlight drifts through the fog, along with the soft orange glow of the streetlights. Every now and then the tires slice through a puddle, sending up a spray of glittering droplets.

We drive in silence for a while. I’m starting to get why Noah likes doing this. It’s strangely peaceful.

Eventually, Noah slows the car down a little. I stir from my reverie, and look over at him.

He's carefully avoiding looking at me.

“Wanted to ask you something,” he says.

My heartbeat kicks up wildly, hopefully. “Okay?”

“Raj…” Noah hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “He was acting weird when he got home last night. He just - came inside, gave me a hug, and went upstairs. Didn’t even say anything. It’s not like him, so I was wondering if you knew what was up? I know that he saw you. He had flowers from the shop.”

Noah has just given me another opening, this time unprompted.

I’m quiet for a handful of seconds, trying to figure out how to take it.

“Well, you know Raj the best out of all of us,” I answer slowly. “I mean, you know him really well. You two are super close, right? Closer than most.”

Noah's eyes narrow, soft grey turning to hard steel.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks sharply.

The defensive edge to his voice throws me off, and I feel an anxious blush spreading across my cheeks.

“Nothing! I just - he’s your best friend, isn’t he?”

Noah faces forward, biting the inside of his cheek. “Yeah. Him and Mel. Both.”

My heart lifts, warmed by his answer.

“So - you understand Raj way better than I do, man. What do you think is going on with him?”

There's a moment of stillness and silence. Then Noah's composure drops away all at once, like a switch has been flipped within him.

Suddenly he almost looks like he’s struggling to breathe. His expression darkens, his eyes grow stormy and clouded again, and he runs an unsteady hand over his mouth.

It dawns on me that Noah was holding on by an even thinner thread than I’d thought.

I try to stay calm, but it’s hard when Noah seems incapable of taking in a lungful of air, a complete breath.

There’s no way to hide the startling shift of the energy in my car, and Noah knows that just as well as I do.

“Sorry, man.” His hand tightens around the steering wheel. “Just - got a lot going on, right now.”

“It’s fine,” I answer quickly. “Seriously, Noah, it’s fine. Do you want to talk about it? Because I’m here, if-”

“No,” he says firmly, turning away. “Thanks, but no.”

I bite my lip, wondering if I should try again, but I know that it’s pointless.

The subject is closed.

~~~~

It’s one of those deceptively bright mornings filled with sunshine so brilliant that the freezing cold air comes as a shock, even when there's snow on the ground.

Thankfully, the Heliomancer’s bed is a cocoon of perfect warmth, especially with his bare body pressed up against mine.

We’re cozy enough to have kicked off the comforters, and Aiden is gently dragging a finger up and down my side. His knee is in the crook of mine, his nose is buried in my hair, and I’m so comfy that I could probably fall back asleep, even though I only woke up about an hour ago.

Piles of snow on the windowsills pick up the light and reflect it back at us, speckling our intertwined bodies.

“Just want to say one more time that that’s easily my favorite way of being woken up,” Aiden purrs into my ear. “Do that whenever you feel like it, please.”

I laugh, and Aiden folds an arm around me. We’re pressed close enough that I can feel the reverberations of his deep, drowsy voice.

“Where were you last night?” he asks softly. “Before you came over?”

I measure up how much truth is acceptable, and come out with:

“I’m still trying to get Noah to talk to me about what he’s all worked up about, but. No success.”

“Mmm, I’m sorry.” Aiden presses a kiss into the nape of my neck. “He’s always kinda been like that, though. Don’t take it personally.”

I roll over to face Aiden, open my mouth to ask him something, and stop, staring.

The early morning light is dripping down his bronze skin, and his hair is all messy, and he’s looking at me with such affectionate warmth, his blue eyes like ocean waters pierced with rays of sunlight...

He reaches over to tap my nose. “Everything okay?"

“Yes, please. I mean - what? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine.” I clear my throat, trying to get back on track before my cheeks get too red. “I was just wondering if - maybe you could help me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Aiden says immediately, and then, his eyebrows furrowing - “Wait, sorry, with what?”

“With Noah, obviously.” I trace a fingertip along the hard line of Aiden’s collarbone. “You’ve known him for way longer than I have. What’s the best way to get him to talk to me? Every time I try, he closes up, and I’m really not trying to force him. So - what’s the trick?”

Aiden shrugs his broad shoulders. “There is no trick.”

I make a skeptical face. “Come on, dude.”

“Seriously, there isn’t. You just have to wait for Noah to come to you. He will, when he’s ready. I think.” Aiden bends forward to nuzzle his nose into mine. “At least in my experience. Although - my advice, I mean - yes, I’ve known him for a long time, but we were out of touch for eight years. A lot has changed since then. I don’t have to tell you that.”

“Um, yes, I’m very aware.” I gesture to our naked, closely-snuggled bodies. “Extremely aware.”

Aiden huffs out a soft laugh, touching his knuckles beneath my chin. “So you get my point?”

“Yes.” I brush a kiss onto Aiden’s lips, savoring the intimate tickle of his stubble against my face. “I get it. I’ll take your Noah advice with a grain of salt.”

Aiden pauses, sinking into his thoughts. I wait for him to come back, stroking my fingers along his hairline.

“You know,” he says eventually, “In a lot of ways, Noah is more like his high school self now than he was when I first came back to Ketterbridge. That version of him, the one who had been hanging out with no one but Ralph and Grant for that long… that was unlike him, honestly. That’s not the way I remembered him being, anyways. Like, even by senior year, even when he was really fucked up, he never would have tried to force me to have a drink after I told him I didn’t want one.” Aiden rolls onto his back, stretching his arms over his head. “So maybe my Noah advice isn’t too outdated. If he’s finding his way back to himself.”

I cuddle up against the hard muscle of Aiden’s side, absorbing what he said.

“The thing is, I’ve been waiting for Noah to come to me about it for like, a minute. And I keep reminding him that I’m there for him, but…”

“Could just be that it’s something really hard for him to talk about?” Aiden suggests.

That’s the understatement of the century, right there.

“So there’s nothing I can do to make him come to me sooner?” I groan. “Because he’s suffering, dude. I can tell.”

Aiden thinks it over before he answers.

“Noah is pretty good at hiding his feelings, unless he’s hitting a breaking point. Then it all starts to show. So if you can tell that he’s suffering, then… I’d say that you don’t need to do anything. I’d say that you probably won’t have to wait too much longer."

"Really?"

"Really." Aiden taps my nose again. "He'll come to you soon. Trust me."

Smiling, I press a grateful kiss onto his mouth.

If there's one thing I can do easily, it's trust Aiden.