Embracing Rain

14 - Noah

1 4 - N O A H

I sit on the floor of the living room in a state of disbelief, my limbs seemingly frozen to the ground. My mind is just as frozen as my body. I can't fully comprehend what's about to happen. What's at stake. I don't think Emma realizes quite how much I need Chance right now, even just as a friend. I don't think she understands how broken I'll be if Chance decides he doesn't want to talk to me anymore, if he decides that he hates me.

He's become essential to my life, quite literally. He's helped me sleep when nobody else can, and when I'm with him, my mind takes a break from assaulting me with its incessant and brutal thoughts. But now, a few bad decisions and overreactions that I made because of my exhaustion have pushed the delicate balance I had established out of control, and everything's crumbling down around me.

I don't know what to do. I may have felt this hopeless before, in the midst of my sickness a few years ago, but I don't think I've ever felt this much despair.

My heart pounds my chest as I hear the doorbell ring, its cheery jingle entirely inappropriate for the current situation, but it's not like I can just ignore it. Not after Emma told him I'd be here. Silently cursing Emma, I force myself to my feet, ignoring the way my arms and legs feel leaden and unbendable. I reluctantly shuffle over to the door and push it open slowly, flinching at the loud creak it makes.

"Hey," he greets almost normally, and for a second, I forget why he's here. Until a little bit of awkwardness enters his tone, because I'm unable to do anything but stand there and stare at him. "Um...can I come in?"

I nod, lowering my gaze to his feet as he steps inside and kicks off his shoes. He walks over to the couch and sits down, patting the spot next to him. I ignore his gesture and sit on the other end, as far away from him as possible, leaving a tall pile of pillows between us as if it would shield me from the awkwardness. From the pain.

"So..." He trails off. I imagine he looks uncomfortable, but I can't bring myself to look at his face, to meet his eyes. I have no idea what he's feeling right now besides discomfort, but I don't want to know.

"I don't want to talk about this," I whisper, looking away. I hate how weak my voice sounds. I hate that I'm making him uncomfortable. I hate that I've put him in this situation. I hate this.

I hate myself.

"Why not?" he asks, oblivious to my self-loathing but almost definitely not to my discomfort. If nothing else, my constant fidgeting gives it away; I can't decide what to do with my hands, or with my body in general. Keeping still isn't an option, because if I were to stop moving, I think I'd probably go insane. Scream, maybe. Or throw something at the wall.

"Shouldn't that be obvious?"

"No?" I don't know how he's so incredibly patient with me. I've been rude to him all day, both at the shop and here, but he keeps the same level, understanding tone. It just makes me feel all the more guilty. "I already heard some stuff from Emma, but not everything. She told me you were ashamed. Why?"

"Don't make me say it," I plead, taking one pillow off the wall I created between us and hugging it to my chest.

"I won't make you," he agrees. Damn it, why does he have to be so understanding? It's making it hard to resist. "You don't have to tell me anything that you really, really don't want to. But I think it'll make you feel better to get it off your chest. It's obviously not making you feel good, keeping it all to yourself. And I'm not going to hate you no matter what you say, Noah. Please don't worry about that."

"Fine." I try to swallow, but my mouth is suddenly dry, and I find it almost impossible. "I—damn it, I can't do this."

He reaches over and rests his hand on my shoulder. "You can."