❝In which two people call up a helpline in order to find someone just as broken as they are. ❞
"Does...does it bother you that my dad's in prison for murder?"
"Well, judging by the fact that I moved away from America to get away from the memory of a...
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Noah opened the front door with a strong sense of hesitation, staring out at the yellow mini parked in his driveway in a manner that was a lot more relaxed than he actually was. His stomach was sick with apprehension, forcing a sort of bile into his throat as he watched the scene play out in front of him, jaw clenched to the point of discomfort as he suddenly felt the urge to cause himself as much pain as possible. It was ridiculous, really, how such an insignificant event had caused him to realise what an asshole he truly was. But, then again, it really wasn't that insignificant at all. Or, at least, not to him.
All it had taken was a closer look through a murky lounge room window to see. To see the two people inside and how they clung together like two planets pulled in by orbit, moons attracted to a larger surface that prohibited them from floating off into space. And it made him want to slap himself because all it would have taken to see was a closer look.
But maybe he hadn't wanted to see.
He had been so caught up in his own pain that he had refused to acknowledge anyone else's, so drunk on sadness that he hadn't been able to see that no one else was sober, no one to drive him home safely from his own pitiful pity party. He had been so at loss from the missing flowers that he had neglected the rest of the garden and left it to go rotten, so focused on the loss of his family that had allowed what was left of it to splinter into something even more unfixable.
And now someone was comforting his younger brother as he cried. Something that he should have been doing. That should be him. Holding Elliot as he sobbed. Stroking his hair as he begged him to stop crying. Lying like a second tongue as he promised everything would be okay. But that wasn't him. Because he hadn't truly seen how badly Elliot was hurting. Refused to, even. Subconsciously shutting out the pain of everyone else as he focused on his own scars. Not wanting to realise that the people around him had the exact same marks. The same tears. The same wounds.
Because he had refused to admit that everyone felt the exact same pain that he did.
