HOMIES | BXB | WMBM | Completed ✅

Chapter 15: I'm sorry

"Noah thinks he's done something wrong," Arjun said as soon as he sat down at the table across from me. The cafeteria hummed with different conversations from different tables.

I moved my fork around in my cup of ramen—lime chili shrimp that Noah introduced me to back in high school. He liked his with Louisiana hot sauce, and I liked mine with sriracha. I stirred my ramen, the steam rising between me and Arjun.

"Did he send you?"

Arjun shifted in the plastic seat before fiddling with the purple bracelet on his bony wrist. "No. But he's been hanging around me, trying to get me to get you to talk to him. So, what's bugging you?"

My eyes fell to the steaming cup of ramen. I drummed my fingers against the side of the Styrofoam cup. The cafeteria felt like it was starting to close in on me. "Nothing," I muttered under my breath. Nothing was something—something I couldn't quite voice yet. Noah wasn't him. I kept telling myself that over and over, but he was starting to slowly seep into what I had with Noah.

Arjun shifted in his chair, his voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. "If it's nothing, then make up with Noah."

"I'm scared." My voice shook at the end.

I looked up at Arjun, whose face shifted into confusion. "Scared of Noah?"

A group of girls walked by our table, laughing at their own silliness. I shrank in on myself. "No," I said quietly. "I—" But I couldn't say it. I knew I was being a bad boyfriend to Noah, ignoring him when he didn't do anything wrong. It was my past insecurities bubbling to the surface.

I stood, grabbing the cup of ramen and my bag from the back of the chair. Arjun didn't say anything as he watched me leave.

As I'm walking to class my phone buzzes with a text.

My pretty boi: Whatever I did I'm sorry, Kai.

My heart clenched. He never called me Kai unless he was sad. I stood in the middle of campus staring at his text, my thumb over the keyboard. The words weren't there for me to say. I shoved my phone into the pocket of my blue jeans and headed to class.

"I got some of the films developed I took," Jonah said when I first stepped into his small apartment. I kicked off my Nikes at the doorway and slipped into a pair of black house slippers Jonah kept in a cubby near in the hallway.

I followed him into the kitchen. "Anything good?"

I liked Jonah's kitchen. It reminded me of a Ghibli film—how warm and welcoming it was. On the stove, the tea kettle was coming to life, ready to whistle.

"Aren't all photos good? Even the bad ones?" he smiled, sitting beside me at the kitchen table. Jonah handed me the photos. The window behind him let in little pieces of sunlight, tracing the edges of his body.

"Yeah. But with bad ones, only you'll be able to see the beauty in them, while others just see the ugliness and a really bad photo," I said, shifting through the pictures.

They were good—a few blurry ones, but good. My favorite was the black-and-white one he'd taken of a tabby cat, sleeping on the stoop of his apartment building. One thing I learn from taking pictures is that you can't wait for perfection.

"Tea," Jonah said. "Would you like some?"

"Yeah, sure."

Jonah moved about his tiny kitchen, preparing our tea. Cream if I wanted it. Sugar too. In the short time I'd known Jonah, I found out he was a quiet soul, only saying just enough that he didn't need to say much more.

I laid out his pictures between us on the wooden table. I explained to him what each element in the picture held and asked what emotions they evoked in him when he looked at certain photos.

"What's your muse?" Jonah asked before taking a sip of his black tea.

"My best friend. He's been my muse." I wrapped my hands around the beige ceramic mug, the warm heat from the tea kissing my palms.

Back in high school, I loved capturing Noah in those quiet moments—when the world around us would go still for a few seconds as I looked through the viewfinder. He could've been doing the simplest things: lying on his bare belly on the cool floor while sketching, his locs gracefully falling over his shoulders, the way the sunlight would fall onto his toned back, highlighting every muscle and curve, catching every flex and flutter beneath his mahogany skin.

Even when I was dating someone else. Noah always stayed my muse. He became the embodiment of art for me when I sought light and when I needed that spark of fire. He's my art. My best friend—my boyfriend.

"To find a muse in someone is like finding a rare love," Jonah said softly.

And it takes a moment to sink in.

Noah. He was that rare love.

I needed to speak to Noah.

***

I knocked on Noah's front door with urgency, each knock carrying its own beat. Impatience buzzed in my chest as I waited, my hand hovering over my phone just as the door finally opened.

When his brown eyes settled on me, they softened so much I thought he might cry.

"Can we talk—" I didn't even finish the sentence before Noah pulled me into a hug—a soul-melting embrace that made me crumble against him. "I'm sorry," I blurted, the words tumbling out as I wrapped my arms around him. He tenderly ran his hands up and down my back, soothing me. The tears threatened to start. "I'm sorry," I added again, but I knew no amount of apologizing could truly fix how awful I'd made Noah feel.

We moved upstairs to his bedroom. Noah shifted the pile of laundry on his bed to make room for me to sit. He took his desk chair across from me, his locs pulled up into a high bun, and a muscle shirt showing off his arms.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Noah—it was me," I started, my voice shaky. "I didn't like the fact that you were hanging out with Annabeth so much... and, well... it reminded me of my ex, Ryan. He was friends with this girl, and I found out they were more than just friends..." I paused. "Listen," I continued, my words tumbling over themselves, "I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I... please forgive me."

The Ryan situation was a whole other story. But part of me was happy that Noah had another friend besides me. This was a huge step for him, trusting someone else, and I was proud of him.

Noah kept his eyes on my hands as I fidgeted with my fingers.

"You're the only person I want, Kai," he said finally, his voice steady but soft. "I would never do anything to make you second-guess me... even us." His eyes lifted to meet mine. "I don't know shit about your last relationship," he continued, "and you don't have to talk to me about it if you don't want to. But please remember, I'm not him. And if I ever do anything that reminds you of him, just flat-out tell me."

"I promise will."

Author's Note:

Ugh, not the best chapter, but yeah. I think I'll do three more chapters and I'm done with this story. I'm trying to push myself not discontinue it. But yeah, Homies isn't receiving well anymore, so yeah. I thought I wanted to do something with Jonah's character, but I didn't. So Yeah.