"You?" I retort, almost releasing a sarcastic laugh from my lips. I don't mean to transfer my anger onto him, that's the last thing i'm aiming to do, I never want to be somebody to cause anybody pain. Especially Noah.
Sweet, kind, caring Noah.
His eyes try to find mine as he attempts to rise from his seat.
"Don't" I demand, extending my hand to signal him to stay where he is. Except now, he's standing upright with his hands in the back pockets of his black jeans a few metres in front of me while I lean onto the railing on the third floor of the library.
The lighting has become dim with every hour that has passed. It should be infuriatingly cold in here due to the thermostat being inactive, however it's anything but that, between the warm tears that lace my cheeks and Noah's warm hands which annoyingly transfer heat to my body, i'm not sure which one is to blame. Through my peripheral vision, i notice he seems to be standing beside me to my right. Great.
The library is covered in white and could pass as a building that was developed during the period of the renaissance. It's almost ancient. It's walls are embraced by architectural three dimensional sculptures that are breathtaking at the sight. Each level is secured by matte black railing that is smooth at the touch, which similarly matches the sensation of Noah's. An endless supply of bookshelves occupy whatever space is on each floor and allow novels to rest upon them to become available to the public. This place is like a second home for me. An escape.
"I'm sorry, okay?" I don't look at him. Instead I inhale sharply and it feels like i'm in a smoke filled room struggling to catch my breath from my outburst of tears that were streaming down my face. Now, it's turned into full blown sobs and sniffles.
I must look like an idiot to him. He barely knows me, and vice versa, sort of. He must think i'm pathetic. I've only spent a few hours with him and i've already broken down talking about a topic that isn't nearly as sensitive as my family. That should be fun to discuss, if we even get that far. This is my worst nightmare come true and it appears that i've made a total fool of myself.
Unfortunately for me, my assumption was correct and Noah is in fact standing to my right. He mirrors my choice to rest his arm onto the rail while his other hand lays upon mine. My unoccupied hand holds my forehead, pushing my hair back and feeling the sweat form. I notice his thumb beginning to caress my knuckles as his fingers are secured under mine. I'm surprised I haven't had a panic attack or an anxiety attack yet. That's next.
He's standing on my bad side. The unappealing side. I want to tell him to stand to my left or better yet, walk myself over to the other side of him so he doesn't see how ugly I can be from his unflattering angle.
He's lucky. He's appealing in every direction, every dimension and every angle. Each seems to capture his features better than the last.
A sigh escapes my parted lips as I run over them with my tongue to return some moisture to them, but instead i'm greeted by the salty taste of the liquid that unluckily left my eye sockets at the worst time possible.
Noah's hand hasn't left mine and I am still yet to face him.
"I didn't mean to take it out on you," my procrastination to face Noah can only do so much. I immediately regret losing my self control towards Noah. That's a trick my mother usually pulls and i'm trying my best not to reflect my parents bad qualities. My dad always says that sometimes it takes rough and calloused hands to sculpt a diamond to pure perfection. In this case, my parents are the calloused hands and i'm the diamond. It's almost like they've shaped me based on every one of their worst decisions and prevented me from recreating them. Despite their mistakes and imperfections, they are still my parents and I love them dearly. I don't think I could live without them, even though I read once, that there is a difference between not being able to live without somebody and loving them. I think it's possible to not be able to live without somebody and love them, both at the same time. They kind of go hand in hand.
Noah has grown ballsy and I feel as if he is tormenting me with his affectionate gesture to tuck my hair behind my ear and caress the moist patches away from underneath my eyes.
It's reasonably late, I could imagine, and that only means one thing: waking up tomorrow morning with swollen eyes.
I don't want Noah to see me from this side, or see me at all right now really. But I let him anyway. That never happens. Ever.
The fear of looking at somebody directly infiltrates my mind. My reasoning behind it is that I really don't want anybody to see me the way I see myself. But I hesitantly let him anyway, because I know I can't prevent it.
Noah's thumb rests on my non-existent jaw beneath my ear that is hidden by my chubby cheeks, while his other four fingers reside on my neck. I remain facing the entrance of the library while he gawks at my side profile.
It feels as if my pulse is racing at 100 beats per minute, I hope he can't feel that considering his palm is in the perfect position to sense it. I'm at my most vulnerable.
I cock my head to the right while my body remains forward to reveal his sly smile.
"I know" he nods, understandingly as I return one too. Why does he have to be this charming, and understanding, and kind, and sincere and empathetic. Why? It's torture from Him. That's why.
He speaks, but he is barely audible. "You don't have to hide from me" his voice is sympathetic and pitiful.
Pity. An emotion I am not too fond of receiving. Things happen in life and you just need to deal with it. There isn't a point in dwelling or feeling sorry for people, or yourself. Although, I am pitiful for others who suffer a majority of the time. Ironic, and a total hypocrite.
His tone must be purposely soft to refrain from perpetuating my state of hysteria as if i'm a fragile being. I might be just that.
I'm aware that we've just met but it feels like i've known him for as long as I can remember. And in a way, that is sort of the case. If this situation were to occur in a book, or a movie, then sure, I could totally imagine myself complaining that the intimacy and affectionate moments are occurring to soon. But this isn't a book or a movie. This is real life. My life.
"You can't do that" I reply, stammering over my words. They're shaky and almost incoherent from my hyperventilation that took place just moments before. I'm still trying to catch my breath and it takes everything in me to remove his hand from cupping my face, considering how familiar the warmth is. Honestly, I savour it and soak it up before placing my hand on his wrist to do just that.
AN/// omg hi okay i'm back and i'm sorry this took ten years i wasn't liking where this book was heading originally but now that i've read it back i actually quite like it and have gotten my motivation back to create some more chapters!!!! i hope you guys like this one, and if you do, consider giving it a vote or if you guys have any thoughts throughout this please comment! i'd love to hear from you guys ☺️
YOU ARE READING
breathe ; noah centineo
Fanfiction"I'm surprised you don't already know" He rebuts. His voice grows huskier while his head lowers as he crosses his arms over his chest. I raise both of my eyebrows in an attempt to convince him that I don't. "Should I?" I question. My voice heightens...
