noah centineo imagines

bodies (pt 2); ♢▽

noah was no where to be seen.

i walked across the living room and peered into the bedroom.

noah was sitting on the bed with his back facing me and his head in his hands.

i didn't know if i should leave him alone or ask what's wrong.

i walked back over to the front door. i leaned up against the wall while i took my heels off for balance. i put my heels onto the shoe rack.

i walked into the guest bathroom to look for some advil. i started developing a killer headache. i searched the drawers for a bottle of it, but i couldn't find it.

i walked back over to the bedroom and peered in, he was still in the same spot.

"noah?" my voice was barely audible, and it cracked as i talked.

he looked up at me.

he had a mixed expression on his face. angry. sad. annoyed. confused. all of it.

his eyes were slightly red and puffy.

i was so confused, was he crying? why was he mad? was he mad at me?

"a-are you okay?" i stuttered.

his face was emotionless, yet packed full of emotion at the same time. he stared at me with dead eyes and a straight face.

i didn't know if i made the situation worse, but what even was the situation to begin with! why is he acting like this?

i gulped. i could feel his eyes staring straight through me, directly into my soul.

i could hear my heart pounding.

"you don't know how i feel."

he shattered the silence in the room with those words.

i was taken aback. "what do you mean?"

he stood up and slowly walked over to me.

"you don't know how i feel." he paused. "you don't know what goes on inside my mind. you don't know all the twisted things that live in my psyche. you've never met my subconscious. you didn't know me when i was 15 and had severe depression. you don't know what i battle with inside my mind. you think that just because i have fans that i have to love myself? you know how hard it is to love yourself, why do you assume that i love myself. i like myself for the most part, but there are occasionally days where i hate myself, and where i think i would rather be off dead. and a couple years ago i would go for months feeling like that. so yes, i actually do know how you feel. and i'm just angry that you automatically assumed that i wouldn't be able to relate to you at all. but i'm also sad because i had no fucking idea that you are dealing with this and i feel like a fucking useless boyfriend and just person in general. and i'm worried that you'll want to die like i did."

i just stared up at him for a second, before tears welled in my eyes and i started sobbing. i wrapped my arms around his neck and cried on his chest. he wrapped his arms around my back, clenching onto my body tightly, as if not to lose me.

"i-i'm sorry" my words were mangled by my sobs.

"it's okay baby, it's okay." noah said as he soothingly rubbed my back. "i just got angry because i know exactly what you feel like, and you just assumed that i wouldn't be able to help you at all, but that's my job. my job is to love you and to heal you." his voice sounded hoarse. "you could've just told me how you felt. please tell me how you feel next time. in no way is a fucking party ever more important that how you feel."