tangled up in blue

02

AN- again, imagine whatever you want, but i kinda picture noah's room as one of those cozy, wood panelled rooms you see in american movies. you know, kinda like gabriella's room in high school musical with the cute windows that lead to the balcony, except the decor is less... girly and 2010's? idk how to describe it ahhh okay ill shut up now

Noah

"Welcome to your new, humble abode."

Monica opened the white door to a space I could only describe as cozy, and I'd never felt like more of a tasteless male in all my life. The wide bed to my left was covered in a thick, teal duvet that matched the walls, and millions of cushions. There were cushions on the hanging chair at the far end of the room too, next to the chalkboard, and there were more cushions on the window seat that looked out onto the sprawling green estate. I'd honestly never seen so many cushions, and it just cemented my view that girls were terrifying. White wood paneled sliding doors, doubling as windows, led out onto a balcony, strung with the same fairy lights that were decorating the room.

"This is perfect, Monica. Seriously."

"Really?" she replied, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry if it seems a little... over decorated. We had it redone when we wanted to adopt a girl."

I looked at her in surprise. I remembered Lee telling me that his parents had wanted a bigger family a few years ago, but I had never gotten an update, assuming that it fell through somehow. She instantly blushed and looked away, absentmindedly fiddling with the curtains. "But, uh, I'm glad you like it."

I spoke quickly, knowing she wanted to change the subject. "Yeah, most guys don't have more decorations than like, a mattress on the floor and an x-box."

She laughed, her uneasiness visibly ebbing. "Don't I know it."

I sat down on the bed, instantly sinking in to the unusually comfortable mattress.

Rich people and their stupid, comfortable mattresses.

She gave me a look, opening her mouth and closing it again as if she didn't know how to phrase something. Finally, she met my eyes again and spoke, her voice soft. "Are you okay, Noah?"

I felt my chest constrict instantly. I had been trying desperately to not think of... feeling, and so far, the Jackson family and all the drama that came with them had been the perfect distraction. But now, I was alone with my thoughts, and she was looking at me like I was about to break.

Why is it that you're always okay until someone asks if you're not?

"I'm fine. It's been almost two months now. I think I've had enough time to be sad about it."

She didn't buy my nonchalance, and her forehead creased in concern. For a second, she reminded me of my mother. The lump in my throat formed instantly.

"Grieving doesn't just go away instantly, even if it feels like it. Sometimes, people don't cry for months. Even years. And then suddenly, the loss hits them. It's best not to bottle these things up, sweetheart-"

"I get it." I said, a little too quickly. Her face fell for a moment, and guilt flooded through me. "I'm sorry. I just... I can't right now."

"I know." I almost hated how kind she was. If she was horrible, it would be so much easier to let myself be horrible too. "Great way to end the night, bringing up trauma." She put a hand to her forehead and laughed nervously. "Good one, Monica. But seriously, Noah, I'm always here to talk." I smiled back, and suddenly took a lot of interest in the stitching of the duvet cover. "By the way, I'm not sure if you've realized yet," she continued, not meeting my eyes, "but Jace's room is next door."