The Missing Years - a kissing booth fan fiction

Not Fine

Noah

The first couple of weeks back in Boston were busy enough. I moved out of my freshman dorm, not into an apartment like I'd spent all summer thinking about, but instead into one of the residential "houses" for upperclassmen on campus. I couldn't face the idea of getting an apartment without Elle, and having a view of the Charles from my window was nice.

They say misery loves company, but I wrapped my loneliness around me like a blanket, shutting everyone out. Everyone except Chloe, that is. I didn't have to explain to her what had happened, how dramatically my world had changed since I'd left college at the end of last term. She already knew, and was going through her own shit with her parent's divorce becoming even more ugly than the last months of their marriage had been. So maybe in the end the saying really was true. We kept to our miserable selves more than we socialized with the rest of our friends, neither of us wanting to drag everyone else down.

I'd always trained pretty hard for football, but I took it to a whole new level that fall. I starting waking before six every morning, rolling out of bed in the workout clothes I'd slept in. Then it was socks on, shoes laced, earbuds in and I was out the door. A quick warm up later and I was running, the music in my ears and the rhythmic pounding of my shoes on the pavement drowning out the thoughts I didn't want to have. It was a blessed relief, even as my muscles burned and my lungs ached.

I found a few routes around the campus and along the river that took me about an hour to complete. After chugging a bottle of water and a protein shake I'd head to the gym. Doing weights after heavy cardio wasn't a pleasant experience but I welcomed the fatigue and it wasn't like I was in it for the massive gains anyway.  I was reasonably muscular to begin with, but that season I hardened up and leaned out. My complete lack of desire to eat food worked in my favor, my diet consisting of protein shakes, canned tuna and green smoothies.

My newfound commitment and improved athletic performance at training did not go unnoticed by the coach and I started getting more time on the field each game. The superficial camaraderie of the team was a familiar groove I let myself fall back into. I joined in with the locker room banter and jokes, even if my smiles never quite reached my eyes.

School was hard, but thanks to all Chloe's tutoring last year and the extra hours I was now putting in, I wasn't struggling. My academic performance lifted to the point that even my father only had nice things to say during my weekly calls home. Mom of course knew that I wasn't exactly thriving, though by all outward appearances that seemed to be precisely what I was doing.

My birthday arrived almost without me even realizing it and I had no real intention of marking the occasion. Boston being three hours ahead of LA meant there were no messages from home waiting for me when I woke up. I put my phone in my armband and headed out on my run, taking the most scenic route as a gift to myself. With the exception of a call from my parents and a text from Lee, the day continued in much the same way as all the ones before it had. There was a care package waiting for me when I got back to the house, full of things Mom knew I liked and needed and a bunch of junk food I no longer had any use for. I left that stuff on the coffee table in the communal living room, sure my housemates would thoroughly enjoy it. 

I'd settled myself in one of the armchairs with a protein shake and the book I needed to finish for my literature class, when Chloe burst through the door.

"Noah Flynn, it is your birthday and I will not let you sit here and wallow tonight."

"Chloe, I appreciate the thought but I am fine."

"You are not fine. Now put down that container of gunk you're drinking and get dressed. We are going out for a decent meal with the guys and then we are going to get horribly drunk and sing terrible karaoke."

I had to laugh then and was forced to admit there were worse ways to spend an evening. "I know I've said it before, but I think you're good for me."

We were at the karaoke bar and I had a nice little buzz going. Not drinking for the last few months had turned me into a bit of a lightweight. My phone flashed every now and again with birthday messages from extended family and friends who'd probably seen the photos Chloe tagged me in earlier in the night. I'd heard from a lot of people which was nice, but there was one person all the more conspicuous by their absence in my inbox.

The rational part of me knew I had no right to expect a message from Elle, but the emotional and slightly drunk part of me was still sad about it.  My downward spiraling thoughts were interrupted then as Chloe arrived back at our table with a tray of tequila shots. The rest of the night was a blur of more rounds of shots and a couple of turns behind the microphone that I'd happily forget.

Our group had stumbled back to the dorms around 11:30pm and I was fumbling with my phone to turn my alarm off. There was no way in hell I was getting up tomorrow morning for a run. I was about to shut my phone off and pass out when a new message appeared on my screen and suddenly I felt completely sober.

Elle: Happy Birthday Noah. Hope you had a fun day. x

I realized then that Chloe was right.

I was not fine.

Like that poem in Elle's favorite old rom-com movie* said:

"Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all."

*10 Things I Hate About You