@kingsramsay
He knows what he’s doing is a mistake, him and Noah have never been anything but that. But he could have died at the gala, both of them could have and as much as Drew pretended like that night hadn't effected him it had. Not that he would ever let his facade slip, not to the men who had held him hostage; when he lifted his chin in defiance at their questions, spat blood every time they punched him for his arrogance and smirked through blood stained teeth at them. Or when the Diamonds when asked him if he was okay, told him that he didn't have to pretend for their sake, everybody was feeling the brunt of the hostage crisis. Drew merely shrugged the evening off with a casualness he had carried himself with all of his life, his fear and concerns being washed away, pulled adrift by the tide of his arrogance. Drew had replied to Noah's last message with a estimated time of arrival before ordering himself an Uber to his address, which he still remembered. His driver made good time in getting him across the city to Noah's apartment, the streets of New York weren't buzzing with life and activity at this time of night like they were in the daylight hours. It made Drew's job a lot easier, not that he didn't like the challenge the busy, crowded streets offered him. He wrapped his knuckles twice against Noah's door after his Uber had dropped him off, the voice inside of his head still telling him that this was a mistake. Noah was everything that Drew wasn't; safe and stable, like the foundations of a house. Drew was reckless, arrogant and was derelict like the walls of a home abandoned. They weren't what the great authors wrote about, two souls entwined. Noah was a matchstick hovering at the end of Drew's landing strip, both humming with anticipation and ready to be set ablaze.
