“Can I snoop around your room then?”

I laugh. “Go for it!”

I shouldn’t have said that. He’s smart, so he heads straight for the nightstand. It’s usually fine, because I don’t hide anything shameful, but lately, I have a habit of keeping my pills there since it’s a place where I can easily reach them.

Noah gently takes the box in his hand and reads the label. His face goes blank; he isn’t confused. He knows what it is.

“Shouldn’t they be… somewhere else?” Noah broaches.

“Probably. But some nights I need them.”

“Some nights?”

“Yeah, I just… take a couple when I’m feeling down.”

Noah frowns, which annoys me. He never judged me before, so why now? Does he find me weak? I really didn’t think that he would be the person I should hide taking antidepressants from. As if I had to justify myself, I add: “Life just sucks, sometimes, you know?”

“I do know. But this isn’t the answer.”

“The doctor said—”

“No. Look, I don’t know your doctor but I can tell you for sure that they never told you to ignore your pills sometimes and then take a double or triple dose whenever you feel down. It’s not how they work. You can’t self-medicate mental health. If you don’t want to take the pills, fine, then don’t. But tell your doctor. And if you think that you need them, take them properly.”

I sigh. He’s right. I know he is. But this all sounds like facing problems and no one in this house seems to be any good at that. “They help me stop thinking.”

“Then you’re taking them wrong. Or they’re not appropriate. They shouldn’t suppress who you are, or make the feelings disappear. They should help you cope with them.” He pauses. “How often do you take them?”

I shrug. “Twice a week. Something like that.”

“And the rest of the time?”

“I’m fine.”

He nods. “Talk to your doctor.”

It’s my turn to nod. “I will.”

He looks skeptical.

“I will,” I repeat.

“And you’ll stop being an idiot with your health in the meantime?”

I’m about to answer yes when I realize that I have been using them as stabilizers. I don’t know if I could stop myself. “Would you keep them?”

“You want me to keep your pills?”

“Please.” My voice is barely a murmur.

“Fine.” He puts them in his pocket. “Call me if you need them. Day or night.”

Day or night. That’s tempting. But, actually, I’m not planning on taking the pills anymore. I don’t even think I ever needed them. It was just more convenient than therapy or family communication. Now, though… I have someone to talk to.

“Could I text you when I’m feeling down?”

“That’s a ridiculous question.” He seems to notice that it might not have been the most appropriate answer because he adds, “Of course, you can. But… quick question… aren’t you talking to Austin about this? Or Lena?”

“No. That’s not really something I want to bring to school. I know it’s odd, but…”

“Not really. Not at all, actually. I completely get that.” Once more, I am left wondering about Noah’s life out of school. This time, I see for the first time that, perhaps, his life is more complicated than mine.

Maybe it’s the perfect timing for me to ask him about it. “Okay, your turn. I keep telling you all this shit about my life, but I don’t know anything about you. Other than your bad boy reputation, of course.”

Noah sighs and shakes his head. “People labeled me as a bad boy because I sometimes miss school, smoke, and had a few girlfriends. But it’s ridiculous. I miss school because there are days when I don’t want to face the fact that everyone is so much smarter than me. It’s so easy for them but I struggle every single day. After a while, you reach a point where it’s easier to just not care, you know? Smoking is a bad habit, but it’s not like I’m doing drugs. I mean, yeah, I smoked weed a couple of times, but I’m not the only one. And for the girls… they seem to like me and I’m weak. But things never go really far. What happened at homecoming was really a one-off. It was unlike me. I’m with Emma and I’m faithful to her. I’m not the player everyone says.”

“What happened at homecoming?”

Noah’s eyebrows rise in surprise. Apparently, he expected me to already know all about it. “Can we please not talk about that?”

“Sure.” What sort of hypocrite would I be if I were pushing him to tell me something he isn’t ready for or comfortable with?

His phone rings again, and he doesn’t even look at it.

“Problems with Emma?” I ask.

“No.” He doesn’t elaborate. I’m not sure if it’s because he thinks this answer is good enough or if he is telling me that it’s none of my business.

Noah joins me on the bed. He sits next to me so his smell is all around me. I actively have to ignore it.

“You know what? I’m not really fair to you. You told me about your brother, you told me about your mom, you told me about you… and when you asked something I dodged. I’ll tell you something that I haven’t told anyone but Purple. Okay?”

I nod, afraid to speak and break the moment. He lifts his jumper and shows me his wrist. I had noticed his tattoo before but I never asked him about it. I only now have the confirmation that, as I feared, he simply wouldn’t have answered.

“When I was 12, my mom bought me this book about the Vikings. I was obsessed with it. We read it at least 20 times. There was a chapter about runes. I learned it by heart so I would write her messages on post-it notes and put them on the fridge. I don’t know how accurate they were. I never read another book on the subject, but I never forgot them.”

“You got runes you’re not sure about the meaning tattooed on your wrist?”

“They were my mom’s favorites.”

I feel cold suddenly. “Were?”

“She died that summer. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry.” I can’t believe that I implied that it would be easier to get over Peter if he were dead to someone who actually lost a family member…

Noah shrugs. “It was a long time ago. But she’s also always there, you know?”

“Yes, I do.”

We look at each other, sharing another one of these moments when we completely understand each other. For a second, I get lost in the amber color of his eyes that I have never seen on anyone else before.

My eyes fall on his lips. Before I can snap out of it, his eyes open wide in surprise.