forever you

[six years and seven months]

His fingers were drumming on the steering wheel, the motion one he noticed as he veered left. Yet there was nothing to worry about. It had been a usual day – started with his daily run at 6 am, followed by practice. He had grabbed lunch with his teammates, then Coach Harris had talked out a few details for their next game. And now, he was driving straight to Paola's house, who had relocated to NYC just a few months ago. Their parents were to land in about an hour; his older sister was gone to pick them up at the airport while he'd been tasked to "just make it there, baby bro. That'll be enough". As he was on the road already, he'd decided to detour by a small Indian restaurant near the training center, one adored by the whole team, dinner safely secured on the passenger seat.

He knew Pao had meant no harm, her words only coming from a deep worry that ran in all his family. His parents surprise visit wasn't as spontaneous as they made it seem, he knew that. The entire Alvarez clan had decided to come check on him, though two months had passed since that breakdown. Two months of climbing up the right path, making it up to his loved ones. He'd signed the contract on the very next day, profusely apologizing to Coach Harris for his irresponsive behavior. The fortysomething short man had simply shaken his head, relief evident, as he'd clapped a strong hand on his shoulder. "Everyone has their moments. Just glad you got your head straight again, Alvarez."

The same relief had been audible in Siobhan's sigh through the phone, as he'd called her to give her the news. Their conversation had been short, clipped. Unease had swarmed through the line, static almost audible in the heavy silences settling before she'd changed the topic. Noah hadn't wanted to make things awkward between them. His throat simply hadn't known how to function – tightening each time words wanted to leave. Because every single one seemed wrong, mindless, inappropriate. After the biggest fight they'd ever had, his inability to communicate, along all his failings, had come forth, rendered him speechless. Afraid to move.

Of course, Siobhan had picked up on it immediately. He'd found her on his front door again, the very next day, stern eyes and mouth tug downwards. Cut this crap right now, Alvarez. Don't walk on eggshells around me. I want you to be honest, not people-pleasing me. My feelings can take it.

But he wasn't so sure of that. More importantly, he didn't want that. Though he'd promised her to speak his mind, however hard the conversation might be, this was one he just couldn't start without throwing a knife at her scarred heart. And Noah had sworn to himself he would never, ever crush Siobhan's heart again. He wanted it to be his, dammit.

Not that the thought had ever filtered in any easy-going conversation they'd had these last two months. Nor did he let his friend get a single clue that her declaration had occupied every single spare inch in his brain, constantly circling in his head, sweeter than any love song stuck on repeat. He replayed it time and time again at night, laying in his bed, her voice still echoing loudly in his ears. I love you.

He could never forget that, even if she'd asked him to not comment on it. "I didn't say it because I expected anything. I just had a point to make. Please don't make it weird. I... I don't want things to change between us." I don't want to lose you, were the words left floating between them. He'd agreed though his heart revolted. Now that it was back to beating normally, brought back to life, it was beating hard. All these revelations and realizations dawning on him in the darkest hours of the nights. Of Shiv being there for him, his biggest supporter. Not the loudest cries or the showiest pompom girl dancing. But she'd been there, sitting on the sidelines, never believing in anything else than his victory.

And he'd cowered. When he'd believed he'd be bad for her, when he wouldn't stand by her side against her parents. Let her down so many times, even when he yelled at her. He couldn't believe he did that. She had forgiven him with a floppy wave of her hand, though her eyes had been severe. You do that again and I will not hesitate to slap you, she'd said. Good. He'd slap himself if it ever happened, would bang his hand against a wall to prevent the shout to even cross his lips. She was too good for him. But she was like a barnacle: she wouldn't move. Couldn't be shaken off. So, like she'd made him realize, what he could do instead of letting the self-pity and fear take over, was to cherish what he'd been given. The treasure of trust and love she had decided he deserved. That had started when he finally pulled his act together. Responded more often to her texts, showed up randomly after work to take her out to dinner. They finally spent weekends slouched over the couch trash talking whatever movie was on TV. He'd invited her to come watch him train in the mornings when he'd knew it'd be a busy week for them both, she'd accepted. Back to being good friends.