LITTLE SECRETS;

DMITRI DANIEL DARCY        come together right now over me;

[dmitridarcy]

// eye of the storm .

[noahsriley]

It’s almost painfully obvious in the way Dmitri reacts – all the subtle, and not so subtle, tells here and there – that Noah said the wrong thing. Not that he was sure there was a right thing to say anyway.

The entire truth maybe, he thinks to himself.

Noah can tell that Dmitri is looking right past him, eyes on the door. He’s sure that he’s going to leave and Noah wouldn’t even blame him. In fact, if right in that moment Dmitri pushed passed him and walked out the door, Noah wouldn’t even try to stop him. He’d stand exactly where he was, he’d wait a few minutes (make sure Dmitri didn’t decide to come back for whatever reason), lock the door, and he’d finally let himself fall apart. And maybe that’d be a good thing. Noah has been barely holding together by a single breaking thread and maybe finally breaking was what he needed. Maybe everything would be better afterwards; he could pick himself back up with new, stronger threads and go on with life.

When would he stop lying to himself?

The silence is almost unbearable, Noah in his thoughts, Dmitri still looking at the door. And even though it’s only been a few seconds, it feels like it’s been a lifetime and Noah wants to break the silence, but he doesn’t know what he’d say. He never knew what to say.

It turns out Noah didn’t have to say anything, Dmitri took care of that, and he didn’t hold back either. He called Noah out, called him a coward, and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t defend himself. What was there to defend? It was horribly ironic sure, considering courage was generally one his greatest strengths, but Dmitri was completely right.

And he briefly thought that a million fires were nothing compared to this moment. Walking straight into the flames of a building seemed less frightening than standing here with Dmitri as he opened himself up completely, expecting Noah to at least attempt to do the same.

Dmitri says things to him that he never dreamt of hearing from anyone, especially not Dmitri. He says things that break his heart, all the while giving it a new meaning to beat within the span of a few seconds. He lays everything out on the line so that there are no questions about how he feels. Dmitri offers him everything he never voiced that he wanted, not even to himself and he’s so fucking terrified of it all. Of what it all means, what it all could mean – of what Dmitri feels for him.

Noah used to think that not having someone love you was frightening (he always thought he’d end up alone, which was something he grew content with), but standing here, stuck in place, he could tell you that nothing has ever scared him more than the realization of Dmitri’s love and just how deep it was. He could feel it, he could psychically feel it. In his voice, in the air, his gestures. It was like every “I love you” wrapped around his entire being and suffocated him and he couldn’t come up for air even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t register when Dmitri stops talking, but he can feel hands in his shirt and he’s looking at Dmitri because that’s what Dmitri told him to do and he can’t look away. His lips are parted, his breathing is shallow, but he’s not aware of any of it.

“I–” he tries to speak, but he can’t find his voice and his vision is starting to blur again and it’s frustrating. And God, Dmitri’s too close to him and he can’t think, he can never think when he’s this close, but that’s exactly what he wanted, so, job well done. But he couldn’t not think, he didn’t know how to and now he was thinking about not thinking and worrying and Dmitri was still looking at him expectantly and his eyes were still sightly wet and–

“Dmitri–I–” words failed him. They usually did. Noah brought both of his hands to close over each of Dmitri’s and he closed his eyes, because he couldn’t-he couldn’t look at him right now. “I should let you leave,” he finally says after a few seconds of silence and finding his voice, steadying his breathing. He’s still pressing Dmitri’s hands to his chest, tightly. “But–”

But he imagines it; what would happen if he did. There was no doubt in his mind that Dmitri would follow through with what he said. That they’ll go back to best friends, which is fine, maybe; he could manage that. They could get back to that, they almost did a few times They could pretend that everything was okay, life would continue, like it has been. Those he could live with, because well, that’s what he’d been living with. The only difference was that Dmitri had never come out and told him, point blank, that he loved him. And out of everything that Dmitri promised him would happen, not ever hearing him say those words to him again in any capacity – that’s what he wasn’t sure he could live without. He couldn’t live without that knowledge, he wanted Dmitri to continue telling it to him, he wanted him to continue loving him.

Maybe that was selfish, but he wanted to hold onto that feeling forever, even if it terrified him, even if it suffocated him. Even if it was fleeting.

Bringing his and Dmitri’s hands up to his lips, he kissed the knuckles of both of them, held them there and like a (continual) slap in the face, he knew exactly what he wanted in that moment. “I want you to take your ring off,” he muttered against Dmitri’s hands, eyes finally opening and lifting to meet his.

[dmitridarcy]

Dmitri’s heart is about to sink completely when he realizes Noah might let him leave.

And it’s a possibility. At this point, Dmitri can’t really rule anything out when it comes to Noah. He’s just as unpredictable as he is frustrating, and Dmitri tries to look for a way out of this before the reality of his decision comes crumbling down and helps his knees give out.

He doesn’t remember, however, when Noah’s eyes shift from hesitant to soft, but he does register his hands closing around Dmitri’s tighter and his eyes closing after a moment. Noah seems like he’s trying to say something, but he’s leaving the both of them hanging, because, so far, Dmitri’s not sure what that “something” is. If he thinks about it long enough, Dmitri knows his hands – even in Noah’s, the way they are now – are shaking in anticipation. Uncontrollably, even.

Maybe it’s because Dmitri’s optimism has dwindled over the years, or maybe it’s because he doesn’t have room in his head for useless pep talks, but when Noah brings his hands up to his lips and kisses the back of his hand, Dmitri freezes instantly in surprise. He doesn’t know where the sudden gentleness comes from, but he doesn’t have time to ask, either, because only a second later Noah is telling him exactly what he wants.

And, once again, Dmitri is caught off guard. Out of all the things he expected to hear, take off your ring was definitely not even in the top five, but it isn’t – it isn’t rejection. It wasn’t completely clear whether or not Noah is giving in, either, but it’s better than a flat out “no”. It’s better than him having to leave the apartment knowing that after all of his efforts, his best friend, the potential love of his life, turned him away, in lieu of his own feelings.

So, no. Dmitri’s not completely sure why Noah wants him to take the ring off. He’s not even completely sure that’ll do him any good. And it’s strange, because he hasn’t taken the ring off since he’s had it except for showering and washing dishes – it’s something precious, something real and solid to hang onto when he’s in danger of hating his life and forgetting what he has back home. It’s his only connection to Christian, he thinks, the only connection to the life he’s built for himself back in Maine and the only thing that keeps him from running away from everything.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe, just like the ring is Dmitri’s only connection to Christian, it’s also Noah’s. It’s Noah’s reminder that he lives and loves another man, and maybe that’s not something Noah can completely deal with. It’s a nice thought, albeit a sad one.

And still, through everything, through everything he’s been through and the love he’s held for Christian and the life he guards this ring with, still he doesn’t hesitate to take his hands back from Noah’s grasp and slide the ring off easily and swiftly from his ring finger. He holds it up – it’s materialistic, and it’s so strange to Dmitri, at this moment, how a simple slab of silver can make or break an entire relationship. How it can carry so much weight and yet remain light as a feather. He wants to think it’s a stupid tradition, and an even stupider metaphor, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way when he reaches out for Noah’s hand and turns it over, palm up. It certainly doesn’t feel that way when he presses the ring into said palm, and closes Noah’s hand over it. He holds his hand with his own for a moment before taking it back once again.

Dmitri’s stare is heavy and questioning. It’s bold, it’s excited, it’s hopeful. It’s everything he’s feeling and has ever felt around Noah, everything good. But it doesn’t do much good if this doesn’t go as planned – it’ll all be for nothing if Noah gives the ring back and tells him to go home.

So he encourages a reply. “And now?” he asks, voice quiet and soft, not demanding any longer. It’s not impatient, it’s not a challenge. It’s patient and it’s laced with curiosity – and now, what?

[dmitridarcy]

// eye of the storm .

[noahsriley]

Noah wants to tell Dmitri that he doesn’t even know who he is anymore, either. That he feels like he’s lost himself completely and is roaming around in darkness, trying to pick the pieces back up. He wants to tell him that his attitude was about both, but he was, surprisingly, more affected by him. That it’s all about him.

He says nothing.

When Dmitri brings up the fact that he’s getting married, Noah clenches his jaw and goes to turn his head. To look away from Dmitri and anywhere else, because yes how could he not be constantly aware of that fact? If it wasn’t an invitation, it was his friends bringing it up. He was constantly being reminded, he didn’t need anymore reminders, but thanks. Nevertheless, he only got to look away for a second or two, because Dmitri’s hands were back on his face (and there’s another reminder, he thinks), forcing Noah’s attention. He lets out a frustrated breath.

“I get it, Dmitri,” he mutters under his breath, eyes looking away before looking immediately back. Apparently he didn’t get it, not really. It was obvious, after Dmitri finished his sentence (with no more childish, stubborn interjections from Noah). His intentions weren’t to remind him so much as they were to prove a rather pivotal point to him.

Noah stayed quiet. trying to allow time to process everything that Dmitri was saying to him, but he didn’t have any time. Dmitri kept going. He stood there and he poured (rather summarized) what must have been three years worth of held back words.

And as much as he hates himself for it, for a split second, all Noah can do is think about Dmitri’s fingers in his hair and how he wants them to stay there.

It’s hard for Noah to keep his eyes locked on Dmitri’s. He finds himself looking away, towards the ceiling, the other side of the room when it all becomes to much. Especially when Dmitri brings up the kiss that started it all, way back then. Noah wonders, for a brief moment, what their lives would be like now if that fire never happened. Or, y'know, if Noah didn’t kiss him despite it.

When Dmitri pulls away from Noah, he reaches for him automatically, but gets nothing but air. He hates that he’s the reason for this. He never wanted any of this. Never wanted to be the reason Dmitri was hurting and isn’t it just so fucking ironic that he’s been the sole reason for it since God only knows how long.

He wants to start apologizing, he even starts walking towards him, words almost out of his mouth when he’s stopped mid-stride. “What?” he asks. Or well, tries to ask, but his voice is practically non-existent. Honestly he’s not even sure he didn’t just think it to himself.

“That I still am. That I always will be.”

He’s not sure how much time has passed, but eventually he laughs. It’s a dry, humorless laugh; masochistic, really. “This is so fucked up,” he finally says, laughter still filling the silence. He walks over to his counter for support as he puts his head in his hands. His whole body is shaking from the laughter and he can’t stop. Somewhere along the line he realizes that his cheeks are wet and when he opens his eyes, he can barely see the counter through his blurred vision. Noah blinks it all away, looks at the ceiling and then rubs the backs of his hands across his cheeks.

Lifting his phone from where it’s been flashing on the counter, he says, “Isabelle’s calling.” Noah tosses the phone back to the counter, a little too roughy. Any other time he’d check to make sure the screen wasn’t cracked down the middle. Right now he doesn’t care. “I–I have been,” he takes a shaky breath, looking over towards the phone, “hopelessly in love with that girl since I can remember.” And just like Noah didn’t need constant reminders, he’s sure Dmitri didn’t need ones about this. Especially not now. “I had it all planned out,” he comes out from around the counter, takes a few slow steps towards where Dmitri’s at. “She’d miraculously love me back, we’d get married, white picket fence, happily ever after, all that. And it was taking some time, sure and the plan had it’s flaws–” like the fact that Isabelle didn’t believe in marriage, didn’t do commitment. “But I was willing to wait as long as I needed, no matter what. I was dedicated, I was sure of it, of her.” He mentions that even now, he’s fighting off his instincts to go call her back, see what she needed, if she was okay. “But then–the fire–you just–everything started to change and–” Noah let’s out a defeated sigh.

He’s starting to get frustrated, because he just doesn’t /know// what to say. He can’t form the right words, he doesn’t know how to explain how he’s feeling. He’s not even sure if he’s completely figured out himself, let alone everything else. He wants to ask Dmitri how it’s so easy for him, to know what he’s feeling, to express it. Noah doesn’t open up, he’d closes. He retreats into himself, into his work–and apparently alcohol now.

He tries to start over.

“I’ve spent so much of my life, willing to walk through fire for someone who might not even do the same – at least not in the same capacity, not for the same reasons.” He takes a few more steps, gradually closing the distance between them. “And here you are telling me that—-I actually have someone who–” he swallows his emotions away; his voice still breaks when he speaks. “You love me.” There’s an elongated paused after he says it. He’s searching Dmitri’s eyes, looking for something. Giving him a chance to take back what he said. “And all I’ve done is hurt you—-” Noah grabs Dmitri’s left hand with both of his, close enough now. Thumbs rub against silver and he looks up at Dmitri. “Push you away,” in every sense of the word, “and then punish you for it.”

He wants to wrap his arms around Dmitri and never let him go. He wants to try to explain to him how he feels. Let him know that everything is better when he’s around. He wants to tell him that he’s in love with him, too, but he’s not even sure what love is anymore. All these years of thinking he was in love with someone and now he wonders if he ever was. He wants to ask Dmitri what being in love with someone feels like, he wants to know. He wants to figure out everything going on inside of him, all of these frustrating and contradicting feelings and thoughts.

Instead, he drops Dmitri’s hand. “Don’t–I don’t want to be the reason you ruin something special.” He doesn’t want to be the reason he’s constantly hurting.

[dmitridarcy]

Jesus.

Dmitri isn’t sure why he ever expected something different – for all the ways that Noah is unpredictable, he parallels every other way by being extremely predictable, and though Dmitri was banking on the former this time around, was truly hoping he wouldn’t stand in this scenario like the fool he always stands as, here he is again – admonished, by the beginning of Noah’s speech starting with Isabelle, of all people – and feeling irrevocably foolish for even thinking this would end any other way.

His entire face is flushed. He feels it – it’s uncomfortably hot, and at the moment he doesn’t know if that’s because he’s angry or because he’s embarrassed, though he’s willing to put his money on both: his heart flutters irregularly and the words Noah’s throwing at him are hitting him like stones over and over and over again.

Here Dmitri is, standing with his heart on his sleeve and promising Noah that he loves him, he’ll always love him, and if he just said the word, he’d leave everything behind for him. He’s promising a way to work through this as long as he knows what’s going through Noah’s head, and all Noah can tell him is that he’s been in love with Isabelle for as long as he can remember and he can’t believe Dmitri is offering him everything.

Not once does Noah look him in the eye and tell him what Dmitri expected to here: reciprocation.

He doesn’t even show it in his actions, which is usually how Dmitri gets around to figuring out exactly what’s going through Noah’s head, and there’s something so hilariously ironic in the entire situation: he’d told Noah that if this was about Isabelle, they’d go out and forget this ever happened.

Noah says this is about Isabelle. At least, that’s what Dmitri’s understanding. Then he says, absurdly, that he doesn’t want to be the reason Dmitri ruins something special.

As if he hasn’t already done so – and he’s not talking about Christian.

Dmitri exhales heavily and looks at the fridge, because it’s the only object large enough to stare at comfortably directly behind Noah, and he feels his fingers long for Noah’s touch, even after everything. Even after this. He wants to scream and cry and blame Noah for everything he’s feeling, but he knows. He knows this is on him.

He was stupid enough to let himself hope. Hope, he’s come to realize, is for suckers.

He should go. In fact, every part of him that has ever had any sense of self-preservation is yelling at him to get out of there – leave, don’t look back. Forget him, forget him. Accept his words as law, and never think about him again.

Instead, he huffs out a laugh devoid of any humor. Looks at the ceiling, then looks back at Noah. His eyes are shining, he realizes, and not for the right reasons. Dmitri’s sure his eyes are shining, as well, but that might have more to do with the tears welling up in his eyes pathetically now.

Dmitri shrugs his shoulders, defeated. “Okay,” he laughs. “Yeah, okay.” He furrows his eyebrows and looks at the front door. Leave, leave, leave.

He stays, but only because—

He just wants to say—

“You are a fucking coward,” he tells Noah. His voice is quiet, and it’s not ruthless; instead, it’s tired, exhausted, like it’s seen this outcome over and over and it’s done. “I would leave everything, you know. Everything in my life for a shot with you.” He takes a deep breath. “With absolutely no remorse, at that,” he breathes out. “But you’re so scared of—”

He stops. That’s enough, he tells himself. This isn’t his fight anymore. This isn’t his fight anymore.

He points towards the front door. “I’m going to walk through that door,” he tells Noah, voice slightly louder this time, clearer, like it knows where it’s going now. “And the minute I do, it’s over. You hear me?” he asks Noah. “It’s over. We’re going to go out for lunch and I am going to be nothing but your best friend. Never, ever again will you hear me say the words I love you again, romantically or otherwise. Any chance of us finding a happy ending here is done.” He feels the knot in his throat, and it’s making it more and more difficult to speak. “I’m offering you a chance to try. I love you, Noah,” he laughs. “Every bad, self-deprecating thought you’ve ever had, every insecurity, every talking-down you’ve ever given yourself – I love,” he steps closer. “I love you for your flaws, I love you for who you are, and I’m standing here, willing to take whatever life throws at us as it comes. I’m not going to fix you. I’m the last person who can fix you. I won’t complete you; but I’ll complement you,” he shrugs, desperately. “You say the word, and I will kiss you all night and we’ll talk all day and we’ll figure this out. We’ll figure our way out together.

“But,” he breathes in shakily. “If you let me walk out of here – then whatever place we’ve found ourselves in now? Won’t be back again.” He stares at Noah. “I’m not coming back here. I’ll get married, I’ll move on, I’ll be your best friend until the day you die. We’ll pretend everything is perfectly okay while we both perfectly know it’s not,” he tilts his head – feels a tear finally roll down his cheek, one he immediately and furiously wipes away. “But I’ll do it if you want me to.”

Dmitri swallows through the thickness in his throat. “Tell me what you want,” he says softly, stepping closer to Noah. His hands ghost over Noah’s chest for a moment before they clutch at the fabric of his shirt, desperately. “Stop thinking. Stop worrying. In this moment, right now – looking at me – what do you want?”

[dmitridarcy]

// eye of the storm .

[noahsriley]

Dmitri’s response to his question briefly confused him. What did he mean /no/? It took only a few moments to realize. Dmitri wasn’t saying no in a way that meant he hadn’t felt what Noah was currently feeling, but in a different way. In a way that broke Noah’s heart and at this point, he wasn’t sure if there was anything left to break. Dmitri was letting him know that what he felt was worse than whatever it was Noah was feeling. A part of him wanted to argue that. Tell Dmitri that he didn’t know, couldn’t possibly know that it felt worse, but, well, Noah believed him. He had every reason to believe that Noah did far more damage to him. Noah was just so fucking selfish and completely wrapped up in himself and his own self-crisis to stop and realize what he must have been causing. Well, now he partially knew (and the guilt was starting to build). Karma was a bitch that way.

He wanted to tell Dmitri that he was sorry, sorry for everything. God, there was so much he wanted to apologize for. But Dmitri beats him to the punch and apologizes first and Noah isn’t even sure exactly what he’s apologizing for, but he forgives him. He’d always forgive him.

Noah watches as Dmitri takes a few steps away from him and he tries to pretend that it wasn’t one of the most painful things he had ever experienced. He wants to move closer to him, reach out to him, but he doesn’t have to. Dmitri does it for them and for a moment Noah thinks he’s going to kiss him again, but he doesn’t.

He’s not sure if he’s disappointed or relieved.

Their foreheads are pressed together and it feels reminiscent of something, but he can’t place it. Instead he focuses on Dmitri’s eyelashes, the way they fan out, thick and long. It’s not until he feels the soft brush of Dmitri’s thumb against his cheek that his eyes drift shut, just for a moment and he leans into the touch without thinking about it. And when he opens them again, Dmitri is staring at him and if they weren’t so close together, Noah might have missed the way his eyes glistened, the way water threatened to push over his lower lashes.

Noah almost misses everything Dmitri says, because he’s so consumed with how close the two of them are. Never have they ever been this close, this intimate personal with each other. It was a lot to take in.

I do want it. I’m not sorry you did it either. I want you to do it again.

These are all the responses Noah said, but only to himself. The thoughts so quick that he couldn’t even hide from them. From himself. His desires.

What do you mean gotten over me? I didn’t know there was anything to get over. That’s what Noah wants to ask, what’s to say, but it’d would be such a stupid question. Noah always knew deep deep down. But anything he thought he thought was always undercut by something and made him doubt himself. Like, y'know, Christian. That was a big one.

Suddenly Isabelle’s brought up and Noah’s eyebrows furrow and he pulls away slightly, just enough to really look at him. Dmitri had officially lost and confused him and he’s having trouble keeping up. “That what’s about you?” Noah asks, his arms dropping from where they’re crossed. “What does Isabelle have to do with any of this?” And what does he mean by “back off”? About hope?

It couldn’t possibly mean what he thinks it does.

[dmitridarcy]

Dmitri realizes he fucked up only a moment after he actually does.

It’s too much to ask of the universe, of course, that Noah let that one slide. He understands. He asks for too much. Never gets what he wants, if he’s being picky, but he does ask a lot.

Dmitri lets Noah pull away slightly and accepts his being confused and suspicious but there’s something in his eyes that almost says hopeful, and if that’s not something that sparks hope in Dmitri, too, then he doesn’t know what it is. He sighs, a little exasperatedly, mind you, but it’s a small, tenuous thing nevertheless. Dmitri’s hands drop from Noah’s face and transfer to his own, where he rubs tiredly at it. “You know what I mean,” Dmitri says, making sure not to give Noelle away as he treads lightly through the question. “This,” he gestures between the two of them. “This insanely frustrating tension, the way you close yourself off more often than not – the fact that you didn’t even want me in your house,” he laughs, and the sound is slightly bitter.

“I don’t know if—” he purses his lips distastefully. “I don’t know if this whole attitude since – since my engagement is about her relationship with the guy she’s been seen since then or it’s about me,” he presses. “I don’t know how you feel, Noah,” his voice is softer now. He can feel his eyes soften, as well. “In fact, for three years, I feel like I don’t even know anything about you.”

It’s brutal, but it’s honest. He needs to know. He needs to stop wondering. He needs Noah to understand that everything that he’s done and everything that he’s doing has always had Noah at the root of it. Because even when he’s not aware of it, Noah has been the driving and deciding factor in every single one of his decisions. Even in the decision to be with Christian, hell, to marry him. It’s always been questioned with one simple fucking word: Noah.

“I’m getting married,” he reminds Noah, and proceeds to place his hands on either side of Noah’s face once again, in order to make him look at him directly. He’s not going to let Noah slide, he’s not going to make this as easy as it’s always been. “You realize that. You know that, right? I’m getting married, and yet, here I am, kissing you—” he’s starting to sound pathetic. It’s nothing new, at this point. “And you’re – you’re kissing me back, so you have to talk to me about this,” he pleads. “You have to talk to me this time. I can’t guess, Noah. I can’t guess what’s going on inside your head, and I want to. I want to know.”

Dmitri takes a deep breath. “Three—” he chokes, slightly. Tangles his fingers in Noah’s hair. “Three years ago, you kissed me in the alley of a building after I almost died,” he reminds Noah. “Then you never brought it up again. But every day – every single day since then – I thought about that moment. Mulled over it, took it apart – I took it apart and put it back together and it’s so fucking ridiculous, the way I obsessed over that kiss and you didn’t even—” This time, he’s choking on his own tears. Ridiculous, pathetic, and stupid. He pulls away from Noah, and decides to pace around the living room instead, pulling nervously and agitatedly at his hair. “You didn’t even say one word about it to me. Never acknowledged it. And I had to sit through – moments with you knowing—” The breath he takes is shaky. “Knowing that I was so fucking in love with you I couldn’t stand it.” He finally looks back at Noah.

There it is. There’s the truth. He knows it now – no sidestepping. Noah can’t pretend he doesn’t get it anymore.

“That I still am,” he swallows thickly, averts his eyes to the floor. “That I always will be.”

[dmitridarcy]

// eye of the storm .

[noahsriley]

All those years ago, Noelle warned him. She ambushed him one night, broke into his apartment (literally, he had just gotten the place and only had one key; she broke a window) and waited for him to come home. When he did, he had a ridiculous smile on his face and she had a look of pity to rival it.

“Noah,” she had said, sounding like a disapproving parent, ruining the good mood he had been in all night. They had argued the entire time she was there, the way siblings do. She claimed she was just looking out for him, that she didn’t want to see him heartbroken and he claimed that he could take care of himself, that he didn’t need his little sister protecting him. That there was nothing to protect him from.

That night, Noelle accepted that inevitability that Isabelle Vincent would break her brother’s heart whether then or in the distant future. Noah, blinded in a way he had never been before, was ignorant to even the possibility. The scariest part, she thought, was that he seemed to be okay with it, should it ever happen (“it won’t”). That he’d be lucky to have his heart broken by her.

“It’s a dangerous fucking thing, Noah,” she said on her way out, swallowing a lump in her throat and wanting to slap him across the face. “Being stupid enough to give someone that much control over you. Over your heart. Your life. To be willing to sacrifice yourself, your happiness, no matter what the cost.” He could still remember the way her hard exterior faded, the way she paused and kissed his forehead, soft and loving. The way he voice dropped to the softest he had ever heard it. How filled with worry, love, and caring she was in that moment. At that time it just made him roll his eyes.

“The lack of reciprocation won’t even be the worst part, you’ll be able to live through that. The part that you won’t be able to recover from, Noah, is the knowledge that should your feelings eventually turn into something mutual, you’ll still never have them, not how you want them. And that feeling? It’s worse than anything you can fucking imagine, because it’s filled with falsities that never last, all the while giving you enough hope that you keep coming back for more. It’s a vicious cycle and I don’t want to see you get devoured by it.”

Noelle would tell you she’s always right. She usually is, even when you don’t want her to be. And she warned him.

Only then, it was about Isabelle and now, because life is a sick, twisted joke, it applied less to her and more to Dmitri.

It was Dmitri that had complete control over him and Noah wasn’t even sure he knew it. How could he? It was Dmitri who he was willing to sacrifice himself for, his own happiness. It was never easy, but he would, he always would. And Noelle was, once again, right. It was stupid, but he couldn’t control it.

He didn’t have any control over it three years ago when he lost his mind and kissed Dmitri for the first time in front of a burning building (and if that didn’t fucking just symbolize their entire relationship from that point on, he wasn’t sure what did) and he didn’t have any control of it now—-now that Dmitri was the one that lost his mind.

It happened so suddenly, so quickly that it caused Noah’s entire world to spit on it’s axis, so fast that if it was possible, it would fall off and roll away. He wasn’t entirely sure it hadn’t. And if he didn’t still have a death grip on his door knob, he thinks he would have toppled over.

This kiss was nothing like their first one. This kiss is rough and hard and Noah doesn’t understand what’s happening. In fact, he almost stops it completely. Almost uses his free hand, that automatically came up to Dmitri’s chest, to push him away. Almost. Instead, he let it happen. He’s not sure why, because this kiss isn’t anything like he would have ever imagined it would be when they kissed again. There’s something though, in the way that Dmitri is kissing him, that makes Noah feels like he just needs to let it happen. For whatever reason.

So he stands there and he lets it happen.

His eyes are closed, but his eyebrows are furrowed and if Dmitri kisses him any harder, he thinks he’ll taste blood.

It’s in these short moments, that Noah thinks that this is it. This is where the last nights tormenting himself with thoughts and memories ends. That everything was just in his head. The memory of their kiss was so far back that it was easy to confuse and remember it as something more than it actually was. Like when you think back on an old relationship and only remember the good rather than the bad, because it’s easier that when when you miss someone. And that, whatever was between them wasn’t there anymore. Noah could go on with his life and Dmitri could go on with his. Noah could be the best man at his wedding and be genuinely happy for his friend. And with all of this behind him, he could focus on a relationship with Isabelle, with actually trying, putting himself out there. Everything was falling back into place, returning to what it used to be and everything was going to be okay, better.

Falsities that never last.

Noelle’s words echoed in his head at the same time Dmitri’s hands slid down his neck. And without warning, Noah’s fingers curl into Dmitri’s shirt.

It’s such a mind-numbing contrast. To go from a kiss that’s hard and almost emotionless, thinking everything is over —- to one that’s soft and sweet and feels like everything is simply begging again.

And Noah doesn’t know which kiss scares him more.

All he knows is that this, right now, with Dmitri pressed against him, his hands on his neck and his lips invading his every coherent thought, is the most alive he has felt in the past few years. It’s a feeling he never wants to forget. So that when this all ends, when Dmitri inevitably pulls away and things go back to normal, he can hold onto this feeling, remember it for the nights he feels like there’s nothing left inside of him. Nothing left to give and nothing left to take.

So he holds on for dear life. Tossing the door shut, lost in the way Dmitri’s lips feel, how they taste. Stumbling back from the force, the passion of the kiss that his back hits the sharp contrasting edge between the door and the wall and it hurts, but he doesn’t care.

(It doesn’t hurt worse than the feeling of cold metal against his neck.)

With a small whining noise, that was completely beyond his control, Noah let’s his hands roam. Not realizing just how badly he’s been needing to just feel Dmitri underneath his hands. And it’s been so long, so so long. Because there hug earlier wasn’t enough and Dmitri’s hand on his chest wasn’t enough and Dmitri has always felt like a piece of art that he’s not allowed to touch. Not allowed to damage. Except for now, right now was the exception.

So he took advantage of it. He let Dmitri intoxicate him with every shared breath, every desperate movement. He let Dmitri focus on leading the kiss and he focused on the way Dmitri felt, like he was never going to get this opportunity again. To run his hands over his chest, down his ribs. And it was all fabric and he wanted to rip his shirt off and run his fingers down that stupid “V” that Noah knew he had. But he didn’t. Instead he wrapped his arms around his back and pulled him as close as he could manage so that their bodies were touching. So that there chests were touch and he swore if he could focus for just a few seconds he’d be able to feel their hearts beat against each other.

God, Noah was so naive. To think just moments ago that there was nothing between them. That everything he thought he felt was some fabrications he made up. Because he here was, here they were – and this is what he remembered. This feeling of clarity and completion. The feeling of finally belonging.

A feeling that was cut suddenly short as Dmitri pulled away and they were left with nothing between them but the harsh reality. The one that always got lost when they were wrapped up in each other. And just like that Dmitri was stepping away and it was like someone pushed the resume button on actual reality. Dmitri acting as if nothing just happened. Like it was no big deal, like they could just go out to eat now.

Noah thought he was going to fall to the ground.

Noelle warned him.

“Is this what it felt like?” Noah whispers brokenly, hands coming to wrap around himself. Needing, once again, to keep himself together, but on such a bigger scale. “When I kissed you and went on acting like nothing happened?” Noah stared at him, his face emotionless now, closed off, because that’s what he did. It’s what he always did. The only thing he knew how to do. All he could think was: Is that why Dmitri was doing this? Was he trying to get back at Noah? Surely that was stupid, and Noah knew that, but nothing made sense and Noah couldn’t think clearly.

[dmitridarcy]

Dmitri doesn’t expect the acknowledgment.

Which is, in hindsight, stupid, because he did kind of spring it out of nowhere on Noah (it could be argued he did the same to Dmitri, but they were in a life-altering situation three years ago, and today they – well, weren’t) and he doesn’t think his best friend is so repressed he’ll completely ignore something that just happened out of nowhere, but---

Still, it surprises him.

What surprises him most, he thinks, is the way Noah seems to cave in on himself, the way his eyes seem to shatter and darken and his arms seem to curl around himself protectively, like Dmitri’s the poison, like Dmitri’s the danger.  His voice is broken when he asks Dmitri if this is what it felt like for him when, all those years ago, Noah refused to acknowledge anything happened between the two of them, and Dmitri almost laughs at the comparison. Not by a long shot, he wants to say. Because I’m not going to side-step it now because you’re asking me.

He doesn’t think being bitter will fix anything now, though. It’s in poor taste. So instead, he looks upward at the ceiling and takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself (and keep whatever crazy tears think can escape inside) and crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t look back down for what feels like eternity, and when he does, it’s hard to maintain his gaze locked with Noah’s, because he feels guilty for indulging in something he’s been wanting for years now, and that’s perhaps the worst feeling in any situation.

Dmitri swallows and shakes his head, finally deciding to answer the question. “No,” he says, deciding to be honest, but not brutally so. He pauses for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, before biting his lip and looking at his shoes. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, because he is. He’s sorry he had to do it so suddenly, he’s sorry he took advantage of Noah’s unawareness, and he’s sorry he might have just done something Noah didn’t want.

But that’s the thing. It certainly didn’t feel like Noah didn’t want it – thinking back on the kiss, there were hands roaming his chest and a needy sound escaping a throat that was most certainly not Dmitri’s and he was pulled towards the wall and it felt just as desperate on Noah’s part as it was on Dmitri’s.

He takes a couple of steps back, but then he feels worlds away from Noah, so he takes them forward again. This time, he doesn’t stop until he reaches Noah, and he places a hand on the other’s cheek and his forehead presses against his. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, remembering a scene much like this one so many years ago – except now, today, he knows, deep down inside, that Noah wants it too.

Fool him once, and all of that.

Dmitri’s thumb begins to stroke Noah’s soft skin, and his eyes open steadily to lock gazes with Noah. He swallows thickly and feels his eyes prickle with the tears he was so very much hoping to hold back, and he tilts his head slightly to nuzzle Noah’s nose with his own. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want it,” he finally says, quietly. And even then, they sound like the loudest words in the world. “But I’m not sorry I did it.” He admits. “Even now, I want to do it again,” he laughs once, without a single trace of humor, and shrugs his shoulders in defeat. “I thought it’d changed,” he tells Noah, voice slightly broken. “I thought I’d gotten over you, and I’m – I haven’t,” he swallows again. “Not by a long shot.”

He remembers the invitation. Remembers the stupid hope that the implications might be towards him and not Isabelle. Even now, he’s still not completely sure. But instead of sitting around and waiting and wondering for three more fucking years – he thinks of the easiest way to find out.

“Do you,” he licks his lips nervously. “Is all of this about Isabelle?” he asks. “Because if it is I’ll back off,” he promises. “I’ll forget about this for your sake and we’ll go to lunch and we won’t talk about it ever again but if – if there’s a slight chance this is – that’s it about—” He must sound ridiculous, stuttering like a teenage girl with a crush. “Me,” he finishes, strained. “I need to know, Noah,” he pleads. “I can’t keep living with this hope and this fear.”

Noah can’t run away this time. He can’t sidestep this conversation like he did so many times the last. He’s here, now, in the moment – there’s no one running up to them to interrupt them, they’re nowhere public, they’re here and now and Noah can’t avoid this conversation this time.

He needs to know. Dmitri needs to know, because if he doesn’t know he can’t help, and he wants to.

He wants to help. He wants to be there for Noah, in any capacity. Romantic or otherwise.

Suddenly, it makes sense why Christian is staying with Dmitri.

If what he’s feeling for Dmitri is even remotely close to everything Dmitri feels for Noah – Dmitri knows why Christian stays with him despite knowing that his heart will never fully belong to him the way it does to another.

And now, along with frightened and hopeful, he feels terrible.

But still not terrible enough to back away from Noah, because being this close to him, so intimately – it’s everything. It’s absolutely everything.

[dmitridarcy]

// eye of the storm .

[noahsriley]

Secretly, Noah was glad that Dmitri choose the Thai restaurant. For the same reason he was unhappy with the decision. It was a place he had really been wanting to go to, sure, but there were also a very slim amount Thai restaurants that he had been to that actually serve alcohol. Which was obviously, for reasons, a good thing. And obviously, for other reasons, a bad thing. Like for instance, the moment Dmitri starts inevitably talking about his wedding (or Noah inevitably asks about how the planning is going in order to play the role of good supportive friend) all he was going to have was water, soda, or tea. All three great, but not a single one had the magical emotion dulling properties he’d surely end up looking for at some point.

“Thai it is,” he smiled softly, pushing his thoughts away.

Just as he was about to subconsciously reach for his keys (which were usually thrown somewhere on the counter), Dmitri was closing the distance between them, his hand reaching out to do – whatever it was he was going to do – causing Noah to forget all about the keys.

He wondered, momentarily, if i heart could stop beating, yet, beat rapidly in perfect unison.

Even with the very quick realization that Dmitri was just soothing his shirt (no big deal, right?), it took everything he had to keep himself from automatically pulling back from his touch. But also from automatically leaning into it.

It was a special kind of torture to simultaneously want to feel the touch of someone, the way it ignites your skin, and not ever wanting to be reminded of how it feels.

So Noah just stood there, unmoving, praying that Dmitri couldn’t feel what such a small gesture was doing to his heart. He steadied so much on his breathing, to make sure his chest didn’t rise and fall noticeably fast. His jaw was painfully clenched without him even realizing it and his hands were shaking with nothing to hold onto, nothing to ground himself.

It was so simple, such a simple touch and yet he felt like his skin was on fire, like the air was too humid, everything was too much and he just wanted to breathe, but the air around Dmitri was borderline claustrophobic.

“Just one moment,” he said quickly when Dmitri took his hand back, looking straight at him and God, Noah couldn’t hold his gaze even if he wanted to – and he wasn’t sure if he did or not.

Noah moved passed him and, as casually as he could, made his way to his room, and shut the door behind him. Maybe a little too rough, but hopefully nothing noticeable. He put his palms flat against his door and lowered his head, finally feeling like he could breath, like he had some small percentage of clarity back. He probably didn’t.

Why couldn’t Dmitri have come down a few weeks ago? Fuck, even a few days ago. He would have been fine then. Mostly fine. A hell of a lot more fine than he is now. Noah would have welcomed the hug from his friend, patted him on the shoulder. They could be joking around and laughing right about now. But instead, he shows up a day or two after Noah gets the final invites and it all just feels like a slap in the face.

Hey, here is your daily reminder that I’m getting engaged and here is my gorgeous Fiance, who you used to work with, who saved my life like the knight in shining armor he is. Y'know that same night you weren’t there to save me yourself kissed me like a fucking idiot and we never really talked about it in depth again even though it turned both of our worlds upside down and almost deteriorated our relationship completely? Yeah, that night, those things happened on the same night. Except we still don’t talk about that kiss, but I am definitely in love with that guy and getting married to him. Funny how that all works out, huh? Also I need to stay with you for a few nights and is it cool if I touch you a little bit? By the way Christian says hi. Thanks, pal!

Noah laughed to himself. A cross between something manic and pathetic.

This is ridiculous. This is all fucking ridiculous. Every last bit of it it. He’s fucking ridiculous.

When was he going to stop blaming Dmitri for all of this? Dmitri didn’t deserve any of this. He didn’t deserve Noah blaming him for not knowing what was going on with Noah —- Noah didn’t even know what was going on with Noah (not %100 at least). All Dmitri was doing was building a life for himself with someone who loved him and someone he loved in return. Why was that such a bad thing? Why was Noah so resentful? Of his happiness with Christian, of his wedding, his new life.

He partially knew why.

Noah walked over to his nightstand, grabbed the invitation that looked like it had gone through war, and hid it in the top drawer. He didn’t want Dmitri to walk in and see it while he was here. And he definitely didn’t want to have to explain himself. It would all be a lie anyway. He grabbed a random coat from off the floor, gave himself a little pep-talk. Everything was starting to feel very reminiscent of the night he found out Dmitri was engaged in the first place. He was going to put on the greatest act he possibly could, for the sake of his friend and the sake of their friendship.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Noah announced as he walked back out of his room and up to Dmitri, clapping a hand to his back as he passed. “Let’s head out, buddy.” He opened his front door, signaling the way out. Ignoring the way the sun, now shining into his house, made the silver band around his finger sparkle.

[dmitridarcy]

Noah leaves with a certain distress about him, and it confuses Dmitri.

It doesn’t make any sense. He was rambling on and on, and suddenly he’s telling Dmitri, in a strained voice, that he’ll be right back, and he closes the door to his room rather harshly and he’s leaving Dmitri dumbstruck in the middle of the kitchen, standing like a fool.

Subconsciously, he wants to reach for his cell phone – in moments of confusion, he’ll bring up Candy Crush and start playing as a means to distract himself: it’s simple and it’s fun and it’s proved a useful tool in the battle against his self-conscience.

But he can’t. He finds himself not wanting to get distracted, this time. It’s simple enough: he’s annoyed that Noah can still have this stupid effect on him. Whiplash galore, Christian would like to call it (and God, how inappropriate to be thinking of Christian in this very moment), and it’s honestly beginning to feel like he’s never going to leave this impossible road block, courtesy of Noah Riley. It’s not happening. It’s not happening, and it’s starting to grate on his nerves.

Three years. It’s been three years since anything remotely romantic has happened between the two of them, and still, here Dmitri is, hopelessly waiting for something more. But of course not – of course not, because Noah is confusing and tiresome and ridiculous and Dmitri should be able to handle it better but he can’t, because as he stands alone in the kitchen of his best friend’s apartment, all he’s thinking is I’m so fucking tired.

He remembers Noelle’s mention of the torn wedding invitation, and his blood begins to boil. How dare he. How dare he take something as important as the physical proof of him moving the fuck on and just – rip it in half so effortlessly.

It’s annoying because it feels metaphorical – because it’s always been so easy for Noah to take his efforts and rip them in two, even without his knowledge.

Because Noah can take anything and crumple it up so easily and leave Dmitri at his feet, like a pile of trash, waiting to moved at his command.

Dmitri is so tired of it. He’s so tired of wanting and hoping along with angrily devoting time to moving on and then it not working whatsoever because he ends up here, always ends up here. And this is probably why Christian didn’t like it when Dmitri told him he was coming down – because somehow, someway, even in their most difficult, darkest moments, Dmitri’s roads always lead to Noah.

So when Noah comes out of the room and claps him on the back and acts like he didn’t just leave Dmitri in the middle of a fucking existential crisis, Dmitri feels as if his entire universe has shrunk to this one moment. One fucking moment. He’s there and Dmitri’s here and his blood is boiling and his bones are curling and how dare Noah act so normal when all Dmitri wants to do is scream and grab him and ---

Dmitri strides forward in three easy steps and kisses Noah.

It’s harsh. There’s no finesse to the kiss because that’s not the point of it, at first – Dmitri wants Noah to feel what he’s feeling. Wants to pour his anger out into him and make Noah understand that what he’s doing is fucking him up more than words can express, and so he gets this angry, fiery kiss in order to make him understand.

And so he doesn’t really move, for a moment it’s simply – lips on lips, and his hands are resting diligently on either side of Noah’s face and he’s keeping so still it’s almost like they’re not even kissing at all; his eyes are shut tightly and he doesn’t feel anything but the anger for a moment and then ---

And then it’s like he does. It’s like a switch flips and the anger dissipates and his hands are suddenly sliding down to cup Noah’s neck and pull him closer and his head is tilting to kiss him at a better angle and his lips are moving rhythmically against Noah’s and suddenly it’s not angry, it’s desperate.

Because God, he tastes exactly the same. It’s amazing that something Dmitri’s been without for three years can be so clear and life-like in his memory, but it is because it’s like he can feel every particle exactly the same as the first time, every bit of skin sewn together, it’s like they never finished the first kiss and they’re still against the wall of a burning building, hiding in an alley, kissing their lives away.

And Dmitri feels like a man who’s been without water for weeks, the way he’s kissing Noah like a lifeline. He doesn’t let go, refuses to, because he might lose whatever small fantasy world he’s built himself here. Noah’s beautiful and perfect and nothing else matters in this moment – his world and him and Noah and they’re the only two people in existence, and Noah’s lips are the only thing that matter.

He’s still in love with Noah. Jesus Christ, he’s still so fucking in love with Noah it hurts.

And it hurts even more to know that it’s never going to go away. If it hasn’t by now, fat chance it ever will.

He wants this for the rest of his life and why will Noah refuse to let him have this.

He’s a good person. He’s been a good friend. He wants this, wants it for the rest of his life.

Dmitri’s unsure if it’s been minutes or hours or days when he pulls away, but he knows he’s panting and his lips feel swollen and there are still chills running down his spine. Kissing Noah is an experience unlike any other – no other human being has made Dmitri feel the way he’s feeling now, like he’s floating on air and he’s the only person that matters. He’s staring into Noah’s eyes, panting embarrassingly, when he finally clears his throat and steps away.

He smooths down his shirt, fixes his hair. “Okay then,” he says, voice cracking slightly. “We can head out now.”

[dmitridarcy]

// eye of the storm .

[noahsriley]

There’s nothing about this situation that doesn’t threaten to drain Noah completely. It’s just so hard for him to harness anything that isn’t silence. Hard for him to put a smile on for the hell of it, when all he feels like doing is slumping to the floor and holding his legs against his chest. He’s just /so/ tired. Exhausted. He has been for such a long time. Like he’s running a marathon and every time he thinks he’s finished the road in front of him keeps expanding, longer and longer with no end in sight. Just little breaks here and there – drink breaks to keep him going.

However, the way Dmitri suddenly gets all excited, the way he smiles, it makes Noah’s cold exterior and interior melt for a minute. He smiles back, just a tug of his lips, because, well, Dmitri’s smile has that affect on him. Noah thinks it’d have that affect on anyone, no matter how heartless.

So he tries. Tries to try. And this way, Noah was being forced to not isolate himself to his room like he wanted to. “Well, there have been a few places I’ve heard about that I thought about checking out, I’ve just never had the time, but–” but they weren’t your typical dining experiences. Dmitri did say different and new though, right? “It sounds weird, but, one of the guys at the firehouse was talking about this place where there are shows and magicians and dancers.” The next one was a little embarrassing, he paused, thinking if he wanted to even say anything. “Then there’s this other place, I was being set up on a blind date and – they wanted to go to this place where the guests are blindfolded, which sounded interesting, weird, but interesting, but going on a blind date /blind/ was a little too much for me to handle. I can barely do regular dates with people I do know let alone with some stranger and what if they were a murderer, they’d easily be able to get away with–”

He was rambling again.

“Anyway,” he licked his lips, looking at the counter. Then thew in another option for good measure. “There’s also an new Thai place a few blocks down from the firehouse.”

Noah thinks that no matter what they did, he’d be happy. It’d be completely interrupted by a constant pressure of pain, but he’s always been happier with him around than without. Even when he’s the reason for his heartbreak. Not that Noah held that against him. It wasn’t his fault, everything that Noah was going through, he brought it on himself. He could have had everything he wanted (and God he didn’t even /know/ what he wanted and there lied the root of all his problems) but he pushed it all away. He pushed Dmitri away.

[dmitridarcy]

Dmitri bites back a smile. When he’d requested something different and new, he honestly didn’t think Noah would go this far. But it shows he’s trying – which, really, isn’t that all Dmitri’s been wanting from him?

He thinks about the options presented to him. The second one is definitely a no-go – if the thought of sitting through dinner in a place that’ll only remind Dmitri of Noah and someone else on a date isn’t enough to completely put him off on it, then the fact that sitting in the dark and not being able to see Noah is definitely a deal-breaker.

Of course, he’s not going to say that, because, once again, it’s probably far too intense, so instead he reviews his next two options: something extremely different that may be fun and entertaining and he might get a glimpse of Noah’s clear expression when (or maybe if) he’s impressed by some magic trick or entertained by a show, or something low-key and casual that’ll allow him to make small talk with his best friend and try to lure him into a false sense of security until Dmitri pounces and asks the big “I” question.

The latter sounds deceitful, but the former sounds loud. Loud places tend to make Dmitri nervous, ever since the fire. He doesn’t know why, he doesn’t try to explain it, and he most definitely does not need a psychiatrist to figure out what wrong with him (thank you very much, Christian), but it’s something he’s been living with and something he can’t quite spend time thinking about.

Dmitri pockets his hands in his jeans and proceeds to shrug casually, offering Noah a half smile. “Any sounds good,” he admits. “But now that you mention it, I might be craving Thai the most.”

Ah, yes. It seems, subconsciously, he’s gone for the deceitful option. If that doesn’t sum him up as a person, he doesn’t know what does.

(Definitely why he works in advertising, anyway.)

Dmitri doesn’t mention the fact that he enjoys Noah’s rambling. Far more than he enjoys his silence, anyway. He could talk to Dmitri about nothing at all for hours and hours and Dmitri would be happy to sit and listen to him, because his voice is entrancing, and his lips and soft-looking, and when Noah feels comfortable enough to talk without a pause to Dmitri, Dmitri feels like the most important and the far luckiest man in the world.

He walks back into the kitchen, smoothens Noah’s crumpled shirt. He realizes a moment too late he’s fucked up with the physical contact again, but he can’t exactly take his hand back without looking guilty, so he acts nonchalant as he finishes smoothing the shirt out. He brings his hand back to his pocket and pretends that wasn’t extremely weird. “I’m ready whenever you are,” he tells Noah, and locks gazes with him. His eyes are nice. They’re not as bright as they used to be, but they’re nice and Dmitri likes them.

Dmitri likes most of Noah, so that’s not saying much. Still. Waiting for Noah’s answer doesn’t feel like eternity if he’s got his eyes to stare into.

[dmitridarcy]

// eye of the storm .

[noahsriley]

Hugs are very small, simple gestures. Gestures of affection, gratitude, comfort – really there are hugs for any and every occasion. Little kids hug other kids they’ve known for three minutes, claiming that they are best friends for life. Some hug others because it’s the only way they won’t fall apart. Parents hug their children, friends hug each other. Goodbye hugs, hello hugs, I’ve missed you hugs. Basically, for being such a simple act, there are a lot of different types and reasoning behind them and when you’re an over-thinker, you, well, overthink them.

So that’s what Noah ends up doing, a hundred thoughts running miles per second.

Overthinking the reason why the hug is happening, what category it falls under. (Greeting? Possibly an “I missed you”. Maybe some how he knows Noah’s falling apart and this is the only way to keep his pieces together). Why when Dmitri hugs him, his hands hover, frozen in the air like Dmitri is the most valuable possession in the world and he’s not allowed to touch the art. So he doesn’t, he just stares at the wall on the other side of the room, trying to relax, waiting for the seconds to stop feeling like minutes, hours.

It’s not that Noah doesn’t want to hug Dmitri. He’s just afraid that if he lets himself, he’ll never let go. That it’ll quickly turn into one of those hugs he mentioned earlier. The one where he’d fall apart if the other person let go. Not sure how he was keeping himself together in the first place. He wasn’t. At least not according to Noelle. Or the past few days. Or the past year.

The worst part is that if Noah hugged him back – wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pressed his fingers into his skin, his face into his neck – Dmitri wouldn’t even realize the pieces falling to the ground in front of him with each friendly pat to his back. Because Noah wouldn’t let him know it was happening. Because Noah wouldn’t acknowledge that it was happening. He’d smile the same smile he used on all his friends, his coworkers, his parents, the barista down the street when she asks how he’s been. The one that lies to everyone and says that he’s okay. That he isn’t at a constant war with himself, that he doesn’t need something to dull the bone crushing pain in his life – that he has nobody to blame but himself.

Dmitri pulls away what feels like a millennium later and Noah fixes his eyes away from the white plastered wall and back to Dmitri, hands still hovering a moment before they crossed over his own chest, tightly. A small gesture to himself. That he could hold himself together just fine.

Noelle was laughing somewhere off in the distance. So was his therapist. Well, if he had one of those. Whatever.

Just as Noah was about to reply, with a very sarcastic “thanks” in reply to Dmitri’s words, he stopped, eyes focusing rather on Dmitri’s hands. The way they lifted up towards him, stilling Noah. Every part of him except for his heartbeat. Which he obviously never had any control over. He watches his friend realize something and his hands dropped, leaving Noah curious to what he was going to do. Trying to figure out if he was more thankful or disappointed that whatever it was didn’t actually happen.

Just as Noah was about to automatically reply that, yes, he had been sleeping (again, it wouldn’t be a complete lie), but Dmitri called him out on his lie before he even knew he was going to lie to him. “Why do you ask if you’re just setting me up for a trap?” Noah mumbles like a scolded child, fingers lifted to subconsciously touch underneath his eyes. He hadn’t realized them earlier when he was trying to making himself not look like a complete mess. Maybe he was just used to them.

“Oh,” Noah says stupidly. Not sure why he’s surprised that Christian would have him pass along that message. He thinks about the previously ripped up wedding invitation still laying on his nightstand. He holds himself tighter, digs his fingers into his sides. “Let him know I said hi back next time you talk to him,” and as a last ditch effort to prove to himself that everything was fine, he added, “tell him he’s more than welcome to join you next time.”

God, was that weird? That was fucking weird. Imagine that: Dmitri, Noah and Christian all hanging out together in his apartment. Drinking beer, playing poker, and listening to all their wedding plans around some homemade meal that they brought over, because that’s what domesticated couples did apparently.

Noah was gonna be sick.

“Yeah,” he replies, looking over at his phone, to the floor, and back up to Dmitri. “I haven’t been feeling well lately, it’s not a big deal.” He shrugs it off casually, not wanting to get into it, not wanting Dmitri to start asking questions – or worse try and play doctor with him.

A very tiny, small muffled voice in his head asks if that’d actually be so bad.

[dmitridarcy]

And of course, Noah does nothing to help the conversationmove forward.

It’s obvious he’s tense, and Dmitri wants to understand. He’sangry. He’s obviously pining over Isabelle (he wonders, momentarily, if he everpined for Dmitri the way he pines for her – unlikely, considering he’s stillrejecting that side of himself, so much so that it would make sense he forgetDmitri altogether, right?), and he’s not in the mood to talk about hisborderline alcoholism. For all intents of purposes, Dmitri’s not even supposedto know about the latter.

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t know, and definitely doesn’t mean hewon’t worry. Still, he can’t exactly show that, so instead he offers his bestfriend an easy smile at his swift side-step and nods. “As long as you’redrinking plenty of fluids,” he tells him casually, rocking forward on the ballsof his feet once before stopping himself.

Dmitri wants to understand Noah’s behavior, he wants to beokay with it, but he isn’t. Not really. If he, under this immense pressure ofprobably having feelings for Noah, can pull himself together and attempt to actnormal around his best friend, he figures Noah owes him the same courtesy.

And it’s ridiculous to want such a thing, because Dmitri’saware they’re completely different people (see: the fact that Dmitri realizedand accepted he was attracted to men far quicker than Noah has and/or will) andthey’ll react differently to certain situations. Dmitri will do his best tosmile and get through a conversation with Noah, and Noah will---

Dmitri eyes the other’s stance. His arms are crossed overhis chest, almost defensively, and his gaze never locks on Dmitri’s for morethan a couple of seconds.

Noah will do this,completely close himself off and refuse to let anyone in.

And all Dmitri wants to do is fix whatever is hurting Noahnow – because he may feel as if he’s only just one person in this shitty world,but what he doesn’t seem to understand (and perhaps never fucking will) isthat, to Dmitri, he’s the entire world in one person.

He swallows and pulls out his cell phone when the text tonechimes, raising an eyebrow.

It’s from Sam. She’s complaining about not being let know he’sin town, and she’s currently threatening to tear his balls from his sack if hedoesn’t “call her as soon as he’s available”. Dmitri doesn’t bother replying,because she’s still typing, which means she’s still sending extensive andalarmingly graphic threats.

Dmitri pockets his phone again and smiles apologetically atNoah. “Sam,” he explains. “She’s mad I didn’t tell her I’m in town.” He pauses,then scratches the back of his head. It feels weird, doing this, because hishair is longer so there’s weirdly more to scratch, and he probably looks likean ape, standing in the middle of Noah’s living room, scratching at his hair,staring aimlessly at nothing.

A voice inside his head that sounds a lot like Sam’s pusheshim to say something, do something, don’t let Noah take control of thesituation.

Because if he does, then they end up like this.

Dmitri takes the wheel. “So,” he chirps, clasping both hishands together before rubbing them excitedly. “Where do you want to go forlunch? It’s been a while since I’ve had something NYC-Authentic,” he admits. “Soyou better pick wisely.”

He hopes Noah doesn’t suggest their usual place, if onlybecause they might run into Noelle (or Sam, or Parker – who’s definitely not inNew Jersey for a case right now – or, worse, fucking Isabelle) and then there’ll be some awkward staring and forceful companyand it’s just something he’d rather avoid altogether.

Besides.

He’s feeling selfish. Noelle basically gave him Noah for theweekend, and it’s not too far-fetched to want exactly that. Just Noah. No oneelse. He loves Sam, loves Parker, loves his friends, but this weekend he’staking care of Noah, and though he tries to convince himself over and overagain that it’s for the man standing before him, he knows he’s selfish.

So he’s feeling selfish, and wants Noah all to himself.

“Something different,” he adds, a touch too late to soundcasual – it sounds a little strained, and Dmitri’s almost sure he’s givenhimself away, but he hopes Noah’s too preoccupied with his own thoughts tonotice. “Something new.” Something that’llkeep you far, far away from anyone we know and keep your focus on me.

Don’t do anything Iwouldn’t do. Christian’s words are echoing in his head now, and he wondersif Christian would purposely isolate the person he’d been pining for for yearsto try and get them to smile, try to get them to open up.

Dmitri decides that he would. But he wouldn’t make a move,because Christian’s a far better person than Dmitri.

Dmitri, on the other hand, wonders if he’ll have a chance atany point during their lunch to reach across the table and squeeze Noah’s handcomfortingly – a seemingly friendly gesture, but ultimately so much more.

Oh, he’s going crazy. Maybe this entire trip was a bad idea.Does he still have a chance to fake an emergency? He doesn’t think so. He’dalready made a huge deal about being able to stay here.

He hasn’t thought this way about Noah in so long, he’d beendoing so fucking well – and then suddenly he’s in his presence and Dmitri’sback to being this calculated high schooler with a crush who wants nothing morethan to find a way to spend every waking moment with the object of hisaffection.

He’s pathetic. Ridiculous, pathetic, probably a cheater,definitely a terrible person.

And yet, he doesn’t care.

Because Noah’s standing in front of him, and fuck it, whocares about anything when Noah’s in the room?

[dmitridarcy]

// eye of the storm .

[noahsriley]

Noah was in the middle of a phone call with his boss explaining why he had missed work yesterday (he said he was sick and couldn’t get out of bed which was mostly true) when he heard a knock at the door. It startled him for some reason, almost causing him to drop the phone. He hadn’t thought Dmitri was going to arrive so quickly. Or maybe he was just on edge. Probably both – definitely both.

“Noah?”

“What? Sorry,” he said quickly, not hearing what his Chief had said to him. For no other reason than that Noah was staring at his front door like an idiot. He should probably open it right? Yeah–yeah probably. And if he answered it while he was on the phone then he didn’t really have to “greet” Dmitri and it wouldn’t be weird or awkward. Yes, this was a good plan, surely.

“I asked if I should be expecting to see you here tonight or this weekend or would you prefer it if I put you on call? Let you rest up unless we really require your help.”

The plan was to say that he should definitely be expecting Noah to show up tonight and work until some crazy hour the next morning and expect him all weekend for that matter. The plan was to work as much as he could, as long as he could until Dmitri went back to Maine.

But not back home because in Noah’s eyes Dmitri’s home was still here in New York with the rest of them.

Anyway, that was the plan. Until Noah actually opened his front door and was struck speechless and dumbfounded, staring at Dmitri was his mouth slightly parted. A few seconds passed (his chief was still waiting for an answer) and Noah, realizing he should say something to either one of them stupidly said the first thing that came to his mind.

“Your hair – it’s long.”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry Chief, hold on one second.”

Noah quickly gathered himself and his thoughts and opened the door wider, mouthing to Dmitri to come inside. Looking down towards the floor as he did, focusing on all the background noise happening on his phone call. Rather than Dmitri himself.

Once he shut the door, he turned and leaned against it, eyes lifting to watch Dmitri. And God if his heart didn’t stop, start back up, and stop a few more times.

This was stupid. Why was he here? Why did Noah actually say okay to this and why didn’t Dmitri just stay somewhere else? And sure, he explained his reasons, but just like Noah was making excuses for him not to stay, Dmitri made excuses too. And now here they both were.

“Noah.”

“Fuck, sorry, sorry, I’m just a little–” distracted “–out of it, y'know, from the sickness.” From the fake sickness. Granted it was starting to feel less like a fake sickness and more like a very real poison that was slowly killing him and clouding his judgement. Side effects included, but not limited to: making very poor and hasty decisions. which explained why he, in a lowered voice, told his cief that yes, he should put him on call this weekend, only calling him in case of emergency. Which was kind of funny considering everything was an emergency when you were a fireman.

Ending the phone call, Noah walked the small distance to the kitchen area and connected his phone to the charger and set it gently on the counter. He had a few text messages he needed to respond, but he’d do that later. They could wait.

Looking up to glance at Dmitri, he held onto the edge of his counter. And again he blurted out something stupid. “Can we go grocery shopping later?” Then he started talking a little too fast, “I don’t have a car, Noelle confiscated it. I’m pretty sure she’s going to bring it back to me completely totaled and I’ll have to get a new one. I don’t really have money for that though, so maybe I’d have to start walking or carpooling or taking a taxi. Anyway, you know if someone doesn’t force me to go, I’ll never go and I don’t want you to starve or anything while you’re here, because then you’d never come back – not that you need to come back or will…” Noah trailed off suddenly, wishing he knew how to stop talking, wishing he wasn’t so God damn fucking nervous for no reason.

Except he had every reason to be nervous. And terrified. And confused. And devastated. And regretful. And happy. And every other feeling he was feeling. Which was too much for him to even process, let alone pinpoint what was what and for what reason.

Maybe he’d call back his chief and let him know that he was ready to work after all.

[dmitridarcy]

Dmitri’d had a variety of responses for several different greetings in a lot of different scenarios. He’d even had a response for ‘get the fuck out of my house, I changed my mind’, because, knowing Noah, that’s one of the ‘more than likely’ scenarios (more so than even, ‘hey, been waiting for you’, according to the extremely sophisticated algorithm he’d made up in hishead on the drive over).  

What he didn’t have a response for, and perhaps should have, in hindsight, is your hair, it’s long.

Dmitri’s eyes follow Noah’s gaze upward to the few strands of loose hair over his forehead and he pulls them back self-consciously,smiling sheepishly. He’d forgotten that Noah hadn’t seen his new, unintentional hairstyle yet – in fact, he forgets himself, most days. It’s only longer because he hasn’t had the chance to go cut it, but it’s going to be chopped off by the day of the wedding. He’s promised himself that, even though Christian vehemently objects every time he mentions doing so.

Also, he reminds himself at this very moment it wouldn’thave mattered even if he did have a response all laid out – Noah’s eyes wouldn’t tear away from his, and so of course, Dmitri’s eyes wouldn’t do the same, and then he’s standing there wondering which of the two looks more like a fool.

He’s willing to bet it’s him, because he’s the one that’s maybe-maybe-not in love with the other, so if not more fool-like, then definitely sadder.

Thankfully, it doesn’t appear he needs to find anappropriate response, because it turns out Noah’s on the phone and shouldn’t even be talking to him anyway. Dmitri raises an eyebrow but lets himself inside when Noah gestures for him to, quickly finding his way in the familiar space and setting his things down on the couch he’d be spending the weekend in. He makes a face at it, making sure to hide it from Noah, and tries to will his heart to stop beating so quickly before he turns to look back at his best friend. Dmitri’s pretty sure it’s scientifically proven that if your heart races faster when you look at someone, you shouldn’t be looking at them so often. It can’t be healthy, can it? And so maybe that’s why you can’t help yourself – you always want to look at them, no matter what, even if your heart feels like it’s about two beats away from falling out of your chest: everyone likes what’s bad for them.

He’s not thinking straight. To be fair, it’s been a while since Dmitri’s technically thought straight, but at the moment, he’s thinking far beyond straight or crooked or bent and he’s definitely just in ‘shattered’ territory, where none of his thoughts are making sense and he has to start making a mental string board like in those detective shows Christian likes to watch in order to keep up with them.

The most glaringly obvious thought, however, the one he can’t exactly lose, is: Noah.

Noah in any sense, really. He’s just this shadow of a thought cast over all the poor other reject-thoughts, and it’s both annoying and satisfying. Annoying because he really should start making sense again, and satisfying because Noah – despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary – is his safe space. That’s to say, any place he’s thinking about Noah, he’s happy, he’s okay, because---

Noah’s talking to him. Dmitri turns back, a little surprised and extremely disoriented, and tries to keep up with what Noah’s saying. It’sthe first time he notices Noah looks nervous, twitchy, like he’s never spoken to Dmitri before, and though the fact should worry Dmitri it mostly amuses him.

He hopes that’s what shows in his expression, because he’s also pretty sure he feels overwhelmingly fond of Noah at this very moment as he continues to ramble incoherently, and Dmitri knows, from experience, that when he looks “fond” of Noah, he mostly just looks “love struck”, and that’s just not an option this weekend. So he scolds himself silently and offers Noah a lazygrin.

“We can go grocery shopping,” he assures Noah, walking towards the kitchen and, before Noah does something childish like run away from him or something, pulls him into a hug.

God damn it, he still smells like grapes (and Dmitri should really ask if maybe that’s his shampoo, Jesus Christ) and he still feels as solid and real and sure as before. Noah’s got this weird way of fitting perfectly in Dmitri’s arms, and it’s annoying, because when someone fits so seamlessly in your arms, your arms have this annoying tendency of not wanting to let go.

But this is a friendly hug, and so he keeps it at an appropriate time-limit and adds a pat on the back for good measure, because if he keeps clinging any more it’s definitely going to feel more like a proposition. He pulls back, not too close but not too far, either (because Dmitri’s strong but he’s not that strong), smiling crookedly at the other.

“You look like shit,” he tells him honestly, subconsciously reaching out to stroke the heavy bags under Noah’s eyes with his thumbs. He catches himself in the midst of the action, freezes, and promptly takes a step back and retrieves his hands. He clears his throat and swallows thickly, determined to glaze over the incident. “Have you been sleeping at all?” heasks, walking back to his overnight bag and reaching into the front pocket. “’Cause the bags under your eyes say you’re lying,” he calls out before Noah can reply with a lie.

He pulls out his wallet, pockets it in the back of his jeans. “Christian says hi, by the way,” he says nonchalantly, like his fiancé isn’tthe biggest elephant in this God damn room. He finally turns around and meets Noah’s gaze, and his heart does the thing where it stops altogether then starts back up again, three times faster than before. His mouth feels dry. “And by the way, you could live in a box on the streets, and I’d still come back.” He pauses. Too intense?

He changes the subject quickly, gesturing towards Noah’s phone. “You calling into work?” he’s referring to the conversation he was having when Dmitri arrived, hoping that’ll spark a casual conversation instead of the conversation Dmitri really wanted to have, which is made up of three points:

What the fuck, why did you rip up my wedding invitation you asshole, do you know how expensive those things are What the fuck, why are you drinking excessively again, is it about Isabelle and can I volunteer to claw her eyes out What the fuck, have you been working out and can I fuck you

So, obviously, three points that should not be brought up whatsoever this weekend if it’s going to be even a mildly successful one.

But damn it, he does look really good, and his lips look both rough and soft and he wonders, if after three years, they taste the same.

He’s willing to bet they are, and it’s a glaring warning that Dmitri’s putting money on that bet.

[dmitridarcy]

// eye of the storm .

He’s on the phone with Christian when he pulls up to Noah’s house.

Dmitri almost finds it funny, how that works out. It seems that no matter how much physical space he puts between either of the most important men in his life, one seems to be much closer regardless when the other is around.

“I’m here,” he tells his fiancé, who hasn’t sounded too happy about his impromptu trip to New York City the entire conversation. Not that Dmitri particularly blames him – he did spring it on him once he was already leaving, and he did admit it was to make sure Noah was okay; Noah, who Christian knew Dmitri once had feelings for, and someone Christian suspected once had feelings for Dmitri, too, repressed as they might have been.

“I love you,” Christian says, in a tone that clearly states he’s going to continue with a but. “But you care too much about other people before yourself.”

A lie. If he did, he’d have left Christian by now. He knows it’s a terrible thought, one that haunts him almost every night when he’s trying not to think about it, but one that’s nevertheless true. If he were as caring for others as Christian believes that he is, he would no longer be in Christian’s life. He’d be less selfish – let him go, find someone who could love him truly, wholly. Not someone who may or may not still be partially in love with their best friend, as it were.

(He’s counting on the may not in that sentence.)

“That’s your story,” Dmitri says, turning the keys and pulling them out of the ignition. “But on the bright side, I might actually get to do some wedding stuff while I’m down here. Check the venue. Make sure nothing’s screwed,” he yawns, reaching for the overnight bag he’d thrown carelessly in the back seat. “I might even do some cake-tasting,” he teases.

Christian gasps. “Without me?” he sniffs dramatically, earning him a small chuckle on Dmitri’s part. “What kind of husband will you be if this is the way you are as a fiancé?”

“One you’re probably better off without,” Dmitri admits. It sounds like a joke, because it always sounds like a joke, but there’s always an inkling of truth to his admissions. Christian is better off without Dmitri. Dmitri is better off without Dmitri. Often, he wonders what it would be like to run away from everything and everyone in his life and simply start over. Reinvent himself completely.

Perhaps he could go through the emo-punk phase he missed out in high school, due to farming duties.

“I’m gonna go,” Dmitri finally says, stepping out of the car and swinging the bag over his shoulder. He closes the car door behind him and fumbles with his keys. “I’ve gotta keep Noah on the straight and narrow this weekend.”

There’s a pause. “That’s unlikely,” Christian snorts childishly, and Dmitri frowns.

“Chris,” he says warningly, and his fiancé simply laughs.

“I know, I know, no closeted jokes about your best friend,” he repents. “Say hello to him for me.” He pauses. “And don’t—” There’s a moment of silence that stretches out so long and uncomfortably that Dmitri even halts only a couple of feet from Noah’s door, his fingers nervously twitching around his grip on the phone. He knows what Christian wants to say – don’t fall in love with him again, don’t kiss him, don’t sleep with him, don’t break my heart – but he also knows he won’t say any of it. They’re both content with pretending they’ve driven past that bump in their road, even though, sometimes, it’s glaringly obvious they’re only halfway over it.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Christian finally finishes, and Dmitri’s heart only breaks a little. He sounds cheerful, but he can hear the underlying worry in Christian’s voice, and Dmitri wants to promise him he won’t do anything stupid.

But Dmitri doesn’t make promises he can’t keep.

“Alright,” he says instead. “Love you. I’ll see you Sunday night.”

“Love you, too.”

They hang up, and Dmitri tightens his grip on the cell phone for a moment before pocketing it in his jeans.

He breathes out heavily, rubbing his face with his now-free hand. It’s unbelievable, truly, how it’s been three years since he’s even had any sort of romantic contact with Noah, and still, he manages to have this effect on Dmitri. And on his life.

They were never anything. Nothing but best friends, and that’s the way it remains to date. And still, it feels like they missed out on something. Something big, special, and good, but something that couldn’t move forward, not without Noah’s own acceptance and his own self-journey.

And Dmitri couldn’t wait around for however fucking long that would take.

He walks up to the door and knocks on it, deciding not to use the key Noelle left for him just yet. Better to give Noah the benefit of the doubt – the last thing Dmitri wants him to feel is ambushed, even though that’s probably exactly what he’s doing to him right now, and so he rocks on the balls of his feet like a child as he waits for Noah to come to the door and go out to lunch.

He tries not to think about exactly how long it’s been since they’ve seen each other in person. Not too long, he doesn’t think. Still, probably long enough for Dmitri to be struck by the color of Noah’s eyes again, or the way he faintly smells inexplicably of grapes, or the way his voice is far smoother than he remembers it from the last time.

It’s long enough for Dmitri to know he’s going to stand there staring at Noah like a love-struck fool, even though he swears to himself up and down he’s no longer in love. Perhaps lust would make more sense.

Yes, lust. Lust he can live with. Doesn’t everyone lust for someone else once in a while, even when in a relationship?

(He thinks about this so differently it’s starting to give him whiplash. It’s all in his head and yet he can’t keep his own story straight, which is only making his head hurt that much more.)

He seizes to think, and he waits.

[dmitridarcy]

TM: NOAH&DMITRI

NOAH: Oh, yeah, sure.

NOAH: It's either that or go food shopping.

NOAH: Can you promise to be a better time than that?

DMITRI: Eh, maybe.

DMITRI: I'll be at least as expensive.

DMITRI: The good news, though, is that you won't even feel it, since I'm paying, so, essentially: a soft yes?

[dmitridarcy]

TM: NOAH&DMITRI

NOAH: Oh, you're already here?

NOAH: I guess.

DMITRI: I did say I needed all weekend.

DMITRI: You want to grab some lunch after I'm settled? I'm starving.

DMITRI: It's on meeeee.

[dmitridarcy]

TM: NOAH&DMITRI

NOAH: Yeah, I'll probably at work most of the time anyway and you out doing whatever it is you need to do.

NOAH: No, nothing. She's just been hovering a lot lately.

DMITRI: Okay, good, 'cause I'm already in New York and I actually had no other plans for housing.

DMITRI: Well, she is your sister. It's probably her job or whatever.

[dmitridarcy]

TM: NOAH&DMITRI

NOAH: Hey, wait, I'm sorry.

NOAH: I just have a headache and today isn't the greatest day.

NOAH: But I shouldn't be taking that out on you, you're more than welcome to stay on my couch.

NOAH: Unless Noelle asked you to stay with me, in which case I won't let you in.

DMITRI: Are you sure?

DMITRI: Why would she ask me to stay with you? Did you do something?

[dmitridarcy]

TM: NOAH&DMITRI

NOAH: They're not excuses.

NOAH: What about Sam or Parker? Don't they have actual guest bedrooms?

NOAH: Who says I might not do either of those things? Kidding. Obviously.

DMITRI: They're starting to sound a lot more like excuses than before.

DMITRI: Parker's in New Jersey for a case and Sam would try to sleep with me.

DMITRI: Kidding. But have you tried being a guest at Sam's? No thanks, not ever again.

DMITRI: Listen, if you don't want me there that badly, I'll figure something out.

[dmitridarcy]

TM: NOAH&DMITRI

NOAH: No, no, that's not it at all.

NOAH: It's just I thought maybe you'd prefer to sleep on a bed rather than my couch -- and I definitely don't serve breakfast in the mornings.

NOAH: I don't even know if I even currently have milk, let alone any actual food.

NOAH: You know I'm terrible at grocery shopping.

DMITRI: None of these excuses overshadow the fact that staying at your place is free of charge.

DMITRI: I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself, and Lord knows I know how to sleep on a couch.

DMITRI: Do you really want me to go to a cold, unfamiliar hotel where the concierges might want to murder me? Or worse, talk shit about me.

[dmitridarcy]

TM: NOAH&DMITRI

NOAH: I can get you a hotel.

NOAH: You don't need to stay with me.

DMITRI: You realize I'm the one that needs to stay somewhere, right?

DMITRI: Damn, Noah. If you didn't want me cramping your style you coulda just said so.

DMITRI: Didn't think my best friend would kick me to a hotel, though. Wounded.

[dmitridarcy]

TM: NOELLE & DMITRI

NOELLE: idc just talk to him about anything, read him a book, w/e

NOELLE: i just can't be with him this weekend and i'll worry myself sick and he obviously can't be trusted unsupervised right now

DMITRI: Of course.

DMITRI: I'll drive down in the morning to spend the weekend with him. Will you let him know for me? Tell him it's wedding shit, I don't know.