Secret (Noah Sebastian X Andy Biersack)

6

Trigger Warning: Physical/verbal abuse, self-harm, injury, depression, anxiety

* * * 

In a chair Noah pulled out for him, Andy sat down, not taking his eyes off Noah as he did. So often in the past had he been caught off guard by Jude because he hadn't been in his eye-line that the thought of being in the same room as someone without knowing exactly what they were doing, where they were, was terrifying. He watched Noah damp kitchen roll under the tap and leaned away when he approached, said quickly, a reflex, "I don't wanna do it." 

Noah crouched so he was eye-level. "You don't need to do it," he replied. "Can I give this to you? So you can wipe the blood off?" He held the damp kitchen roll towards him. 

Andy glanced at it, then at his wounded hand. He was shaking too much for his hands to be of any use, wished he hadn't cut himself at all because of the trouble it caused. But he still did, and rather regularly. It didn't make much sense to him; why would he choose to hurt himself when Jude was already doing that? Only it felt different from when Jude did it. Felt safe, somehow. Because he was the one in control of it. He was the one who decided where, how much, how deep.

"I..." He looked at Noah's face, wondered when the time would come that Noah would snap, would tell him to shut the fuck up and stop being so fucking pathetic. "I can't." 

"That's okay. Can I do it for you?" 

"You...you won't...you're not gonna...?" 

"No, no, no, of course not. I'm only going to touch your hand, okay? And if you need me to stop, you just say. Or you can pull away; I won't stop you, and I won't be offended or mad or anything." 

"Really?" 

"Of course." 

Andy watched him speak, trying to determine through his expression whether he was being truthful or not. But he didn't even know what that looked like anymore. "Okay," he whispered, extending his hand after a few moments and flinching as soon as Noah took it, despite the gentleness of his touch. It was automatic by that point, like his body was trying to warn him. The only times he was ever touched lead to pain. "Sorry," he stuttered. 

"It's okay," Noah assured, holding his hand lightly while dabbing at the blood. "You don't ever need to be sorry for being scared. It's not your fault." 

Watching Noah's hands, Andy swallowed. He didn't know if he believed Noah would let him pull away or if he had said it just to gain his trust to he could use it against him. Jude did that sometimes. Apologising for hurting him, for making him do it, getting so upset at his own actions he would cry. Andy would insist it was okay and would let himself believe for a moment that Jude meant it, that he really was sorry. Then Jude would grab his jaw and force his mouth open and make him do it all over again. 

The recent memory along with the contact of Noah's hand on his made Andy feel suddenly very unwell. He pulled away all at once, expecting Noah to stop him, was already trying to prepare himself for some sort of punishment.

Noah made no move to grab him. 

Andy stared at him. Perhaps if he waited a little longer, Noah would lunge for him.

But Noah wasn't moving towards him at all, didn't have a mean expression, didn't look frustrated or angry at all.

"Sorry," Andy whispered, extending his arm back towards him. 

"That's okay. Can I carry on?" Asked Noah, not touching him until he got a nod. He continued with wiping the blood away.  "Is this okay? I'm not hurting you? It's okay to tell me if I am; I don't want to hurt you." 

"No, you - you're not." 

"Okay."

"Are you - after, are you gonna make me - make me do it? Like...like for - to - to pay you back." 

"No. Absolutely not. Never." 

"I don't wanna do it," Andy mumbled, starting to cry. 

"You don't need to do it," Noah said. "You don't need to do anything you don't want to do." 

Andy lifted his other hand to his face, wiped his eyes, whispering, "Please don't make me..."

Noah couldn't quite fathom how Jude could be so insanely abusive as to cause such a vivid fear in someone when he wasn't even there. "I'm never, ever going to make you do it. Okay? Never." 

Either Andy wasn't listening or didn't believe him. "Please..." he continued. "It - it hurts when I do it, please don't...please..."

"You don't need to do it, I promise. I'm so sorry he made you do it so many times. I can't imagine how much it must have hurt." 

Andy dropped his hand from his face, still watching Noah gently wiping the skin around his wound. 

"I know it must so hard to believe me right now because you've had your trust violated in so many ways, but I promise you I'm just here to help and if you feel threatened or unsafe or anything, that's okay. You're allowed to feel that way and you're allowed to tell me to leave. I'll never hold it against you. Here we go, all done." Noah let go of his hand, moved away to throw the kitchen roll in the bin. 

Andy's eyes moved between his hand and Noah. "Thanks," he mumbled. 

"You're welcome. Can I do anything else for you? Or do you need me to go?" He stayed leaning against the counter, a fair distance from Andy. "Can I make you some food or something? Have you eaten lately?" 

After a hesitation, Andy shook his head slowly. 

"No, you haven't eaten, or no, you don't want me to make you food?" 

"I haven't - I haven't eaten." 

"Can I make you something? Would that be okay?" 

"Okay." 

Noah smiled and turned to open the fridge. 

"Will he come back?" 

"Me and my friend are doing what we can to keep him away, but I can't make the promise he won't, because he might find a way to get past us. But we're doing everything that we can to stop him from coming back." 

"Okay." 

"If he does and you need some help, you can shoot me a text, okay?" 

Still watching him, Andy said, "Okay."

"If he's not here and you need help, you can shoot me a text, then, too." 

"Okay. Thank you."