paper dolls

[ noah and natalia

one-letter oneshots, installment #4

1 1 / 3 / 1 7

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"Don't go."

The neon lights of New Tokyo danced across the planes of Noah's face as he gripped Natalia's wrist firmly, cold fear freezing over the blue of his wide eyes.

The wind wove through his bedraggled hair, highlighting the raw terror in the solemn curves of his mouth. He couldn't help but see his mother in the way this girl looked at him: the distant eyes, the unmoving face, the hard line of her lips —

And how, in that moment, he realized that he meant absolutely nothing to her.

But it was different: he'd been four months old when his mother had found out she was pregnant with the son of her expat-rapist; two years into the world when she'd left him at the doorstep of an orphanage in District 7, cashed in her memories of him and his conception for a solid one-and-a-half million dollars —

And never returned.

He hadn't been able to do anything then.

But now – but now, he was seventeen years of age — someone capable of thinking, working, and fending for himself. And stopping the girl in front of him from stepping into the glass building across her, lest his whole world fall apart just like it did mere seconds after he was born.

"Noah..."

"Don't do it, Tal." He tugged her closer and looked into her eyes, searching for anything — anything — to hold onto, to grasp. "Everything we've gone through, all the things we did together — "

"Stop." Her voice came out softly, deadly. "You can't talk me out of this." She glanced at their entwined fingers — looked away.

"Let me go, Noah."

"Five years, Tal!"

"I've had enough of living in the gutter." Her eyes gleamed red – red and blue. She squeezed his hand. "What are five years of happiness to a whole future of comfort? Seven, Noah. We live in District 7. Do you know what happens to the people who live in District 7?"

"They — "

"They live long, miserable lives and die without a single dollar in their pockets." Her voice turned to ice. "And then they're forgotten."

"You're exaggerating."

"Am I?" she challenged, meeting his simmering gaze, holding it. When he offered no argument, she continued. "Do this with me, Noah. We can forget this ever happened. We can walk into UnTech together and come out half a billion dollars richer."

She stared up at him with so much desire in her eyes that he almost forgot the reason for it. His jaw trembled. "And if I don't want to?"

"Then you are a fool," she spat. At the hurt that flashed on his face at her remark, Natalia's eyes softened, if only for a second. 

When she spoke again, her voice was cold.

"Times are changing, Noah. There's nothing for us here." She waved a hand at the buzzing neon lights around them, the yellowing posters on brick walls that had seen better days. Somewhere behind them, from the bar across the narrow street, a drunkard stumbled out and relieved himself behind an open trash bin. The stench of urine stung their nostrils. "Just think about it. You could stay here, with all your precious memories intact, living off government-controlled rations and fearing for your life every second — or you could give up just the smallest portion of them in exchange for a sum that could very well change all of that.

"District One, Noah." Her eyes seemed to sparkle, even in the terrible light. Perhaps they were the light, all this time. "Six-lane roads, private education, houses more than two stories high — "

"Is that all we are to you?" he asked, voice quiet — so, so quiet — "an investment to cash in on once it started paying off?"

It was a question that'd been nagging his mind since the nightmare he'd had days ago. When he'd shot upright in his mattress, chest heaving, face glimmering with sweat, Natalia had been right there beside him, placating his thundering heartbeat with a glass of water to his lips and kisses on his forehead, reminding him of her faith in him, of her presence.

Little did they know that, days later, that haunting vision of his would come to life.

Who would be the one to wake him up this time?

"Don't say it like that." She raised their clasped hands and brought them to her heart. "I love you, Noah Atlas. I loved every single moment we spent together, from the first to the last."

"Then what are you doing, Tal?" he asked, the words hoarse as they left his mouth.

The plea hung tensely between them, wrapping its rough hand around his neck.

Squeezing.

She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she got on her tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips, lingering for a split second — and then pulling away just before he could lean into it. As if she, too, remembered that night. As if she, too, was fully aware of the consequences what she was doing to him.

Of what she would do.

"I'm sorry." She dropped their hands, fixed the lapels of her trench coat. Her eyes seemed to take him in from top to bottom, as if committing the very being of him to memory. Without asking again, Noah knew that Natalia Fukuhara had made up her mind.

She'd always been headstrong, foolhardy – someone, Noah knew, would be governed by no man, by no emotion, but her future alone.

She turned on her heel and gave him a forlorn smile, as if he were a child unaware of a simple reality. And perhaps he was.

"You will learn, Noah, that the richest people in this world are the ones willing to lose all of theirs."