Summary: after months of long distance and weeks after he called her to say that they wouldn't work out like this, one turn of fate made a new possibility of a future together appear in form of a letter
Warnings: angst, long distance, lovers to broken up idiots to lovers, yearning Noel, desperate Noel, loverboy Noel, fluff
Wordcount: 3.7k
Masterlist, Britpop Masterlist
His last call had been three days prior but the script was still embedded in her mind. Projecting in flickering lights on her bedroom ceiling, the blanket pulled up to her nose as she hid from the broken fragments of a promise he took back a few hours later.
The highways were free and the city was as calm as it could get. No stormy weather was announced, no rain that could potentially sicker through the old parts of his car roof. Nothing outside of his control was keeping him in London, but he still couldn't find the time to get back to Burnage—back to her or even call her back.
Creeping down the stairs, cursing out the old age of the house every time a floor board creaked underneath her steps. The moonlight was guiding her to the place she seemed to spend most of her time staring at these days. The phone was shining under the light like a diamond in a dark room to be admired. It looked like it wanted to be bought by someone outside of this house.
Picking up the hard plastic and letting her fingers slowly dial half of his number until she put it back on the hanger. The quiet sound echoing through the night like a scream by day. Walking a few steps before returning to her place. Back pressed against the wall, eyes closed to see him appear in front of her.
Noel still looked the same as when the band first left their little town down at Manchester. He still held her with the same delicate fingers under the covers after sneaking in through her bedroom window.
"Hello?" his voice spoke. So close and tired as if he was standing right next to her.
"Hello?" he tried gaining her attention again, his voice more annoyed now. It was a dream until she felt the cold plastic pressed up against her ear. "We don't buy any of your shite and if it's you, Gary, yer can fuck right off." And before she could speak to keep him on the line, the line was already dead. Noels figure fading from her peripheral vision and climbing back into his own bed over in London.
A bed she didn't know the smell of or how the fabric of the duvet felt on her sensitive skin. She didn't know whether the blinds were thick enough to keep the sun far enough to not wake her in the morning she could sleep in. She didn't know whether the other side of his bed was empty or for how long it would be. It felt like she barely knew him anymore.
The conversation from almost a week ago flooded her mind again. He didn't seem off, neither in tone nor in wording. He still laughed at boring stories from around their neighbourhood and complained about Liam with the same affection as he did back home. He still listened and hummed and threw in anecdotes of his own juvenile life. He talked when she grew tired and kissed her good night over the line. He said, that he missed her and love her in the same tender voice as when they laid side by side.
The second call came unexpected. His voice lower under the influence of his own mistakes and desires as he slurred words of regret that burned themselves in her mind the moment he said them out loud. "I don't think this is working. Can't help wanting yer here when yer there and I'm not gonna come back, love. We're too good to slowly let this run into the underground canals of this fucking country."
And then he was gone. His breath fanning down to her, running down her spine. Imitating the kisses he'd leave down her spine when she was still sleeping and he couldn't stop his lips from forming patterns on her skin. He needed to feel her and he wasn't too good for himself to show it openly and without remorse in her presence. Almost begging when she would push him off and mumble about wanting to go back to sleep.
The days ticked by like a bomb that couldn't wait to go off any minute that she had to sit with the pit in her stomach. Laying in her own trenches as she pulled his sweater over her head before going to bed before the moon was up completely. She still felt him in the questions that were left unanswered. His voice still lingered in the corners of her mind where he hadn't checked out of yet.
The final evaluation came on Friday morning, when a neat and crisp white envelope decorated the space in front of her door. Not pushed through the gap but close enough to feel the delicate print through the walls. The University of London. If they were meant to be how she always liked to believe, this would hold the answer as to where she'd wake for the foreseeable future.
Ripping the paper open, she read the letters printed with exact spacing twice before letting herself believe.
Packing enough for a weekend away, the sun stood at its zenith as she left the old run-down town behind for the first time with a clear goal in sight. Passing by fields and ruins, singing songs she'd want to hear from him instead, falling into daydreams of good and bad outcome. Pushing the bad ones away every time a streetlight turned green for her.
London wasn't what she always thought it'd be. It didn't feel as final as she always thought it would when she'd finally arrive in the city. The slip of paper where his address was scribbled on with bleeding ink at 2 in the morning from a few months back was now glued to her steering wheel. Searching for familiar landmarks and tourist traps, the pub he mentioned once or twice and the endless rows of shops he complained about. Noel never understood the significance such an addictive and useless way of passing time had in other people's lives until he fell into the trap of beauty himself. Though he didn't find it in clothes or shoes but in music and drugs.
Parking her car two streets away to give her time and space in case she wanted to turn around and walk away from the responsibilities she tied on her back with his help to keep the knot steady, a conversation she didn't want to have already played out in her head as she passed by parks and crossed streets without waiting for the light to turn green. She feared that if she stopped walking her feet would turn into concrete and she'd never find him from the spot she was tied to forever.
His window was closed, the street she recognized from pictures he'd taken from two stories high now laid out in front of her. With shaking fingers she pressed against the button that would inform him of her presence. Waiting, breathing, one two three four, the door stayed unlocked. Her finger found the button faster the second time she pushed it, the force almost locking the old thing in place.
The voice that boomed through the speaker was annoyed and unknown to her. It was rougher than Noel's voice and lower than Liam's. The complaints of the living in the house echoing out to her, the first impression was never a positive one in this city she feared. The sugar she consumed to keep her blood going now making her heart pound against her ribs so hard that she feared it might break them if she didn't get to hold him in a matter of minutes. At times like these, she felt like Noel's hands were the only ones that were able to keep her seams from bursting and her heart from falling out. But he wasn't around, at least not to her knowledge.
"What?" the unfamiliar voice spat with a familiar spite. It was the same one he used when she called a few nights back and she didn't answer.
Wrapping her arms around her middle tight enough so the words had no other way than up her mouth, she threw them up fast enough so no regret could follow in time to hold her back.
"Is Noel there?" she asked, eyes pressed close to keep the humiliation away from the real world if Noel turned out to be just as much of a stranger to the person on the other end of the line as he was to her these days.
The neoghbourhood felt eerily like a trap of embarrassment as she stood on the doorstep. Every window a possibility for eyes to watch her, every drawn curtain a hiding spot for the ghosts of her past to laugh at her without her knowledge of it taking over her legs and urging her to run. She stopped on his doorstep and suddenly her feet were concrete planted on cobblestone.
The line went quiet, a low rustle tumbled down to her as words were exchanged that she could barely follow. 'Some bird for yer, Noely.' The smirk evident in the voice that could determine her future. 'Again.'
"Shut up," Noel mumbled as he grabbed the phone. Exhaustion treating from his mouth into her ears, eyes opening in fear and recognition. 'Some bird for you, again'. How many girls did he have standing on his doorstep, ringing the bell with his last name in hopes of reaching him?
"What is it?"
How many voices had he heard on the other side? Was hers only one of many or still one in many? Did he even still recognize her by the pure utter of his name from his lips or did she need to spell out her name for the memories to come back to him? He broke things off but not because of lost interest of following and exploring a future together but out of inconvenience of their situation.
A window opened two stories above, a head poking out—one she'd never seen before. Smiling and waving down to her, chin resting on his hand as he inspected her from the angle where she looked like a different person entirely than when she was face to face with someone. Turning his head to speak into the apartment, he still spoke loud enough to be heard by her. "Oi, she's a pretty one. Better than those birds from the pub," he called out. The line going dead when she didn't answer again. Her throat twisting and tightening. The ribbon he neatly tied for her now making her choke.
The stranger was shoved aside by hands that were once a home to her when her own home seemed too foreign for her to stay there in comfort. Hands that had written her paragraphs and lines with the same delicate use of ink. Smeared at the edges when he was in a rush or neatly folded paper when he didn't have to be anywhere but with her in his own imagination. Eyes that she dreamed about seeing again found her with an ease that only love could control. The recognition she feared would never come flooding his eyes like a hurricane. Swapping over his eyes and straining his whole face in hostile nostalgia.
The other guy appeared next to Noel again, making enough space for himself to push Noel's chin up and keeping him from gaping down at her. "Don't start drooling before she's even up here, Noely G." He laughed but no one joined him in on the joke. Instead, Noel pushed himself off of the windowsill, disappearing from her view and leaving the two strangers to fight for themselves in awkwardness.
In a matter of seconds, the front door swung open. Noel in his leather jacket stepping out with unsure feet as if he couldn't tell the difference between whether this was a dream or reality. One hand stuffed in his pocket to keep himself from reaching out too fast for what their situation required.
"You're here," he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. Her eyes dragged themselves over his face, inspecting him on any changes in appearance that would hint at the time spend apart between the two of them. "Why-How?" The rest of his questions was swallowed by his own bewilderment at having her this close again.
After the last time he dialed her number, he didn't believe to ever hear of her again. Not after his words stung on his tongue like poison on a wound. Not after he was infected with his own nauseous sickness and too afraid of passing it on to her if he kept her too close. So he strayed away, left her to cling to the only surface she had left in the ocean of their love. The promise he'd given her a year before. "If we ever have to part ways, under whatever circumstance that might come, don't give up on this until one of us can't breathe anymore. I know I won't, so please don't too."
And she didn't. She still held on to their invisible string even when the threat felt loose.
"Noel." She kept his thoughts from racing too far and dragging him too far along for anyone to catch him. "Can we talk?"
A whistle was heard from above them as she uttered those three words that no one ever wanted to hear from someone they loved. Nodding in surrender, he flipped his friend off before guiding her down the street and towards a place that was less observant and less stigmatic.
The atmosphere between the pair didn't loosen up the longer the walked, the numbness in their feet never fading, no matter how many steps they might take. Fingers brushing ever so lightly before one of them would scare away and push their hand into the pocket of their jacket. Out of sight, out of reach.
Settling down on one of the unoccupied benches by the little pond that slowly bloomed to life thanks to the rays of spring's sun reflecting on its liquid surface. Her legs were crossed, hands pulled together in her lap, fidgeting under the pressure that build up in her mind over the last few weeks.
He cleared his throat before his lips pressed into a flat line and something inside of him kept him from talking to her truthfully. The words he muttered drunk on the phone, they were the truth that he didn't want to believe in, no matter how clear the signs may have been. It were the words he wished to never have said but regret was a good disguise for awareness when you were still in denial.
"So you have girls on your doorstep regularly or…?" she asked, treating the topic like something delicate that could break at one wrong touch. Trailing off on the end of her sentence to leave him time to think when they both knew he needed none.
But how much of him did she actually still know and how much was a made up fraction of her fantasy based on memories from the person he once was?
New cities change people, both of them knew that that was a fact. But not every change has to be one of great impact, some are small revelations in a morning where you wake up alone and cling to a memory where once you held someone underneath the sunlight. Feeling awake before you had your eyes open simply because of the fact that you got to hold someone you loved first thing when consciousness took over sleep.
"They appear there but I don't let them in," he mumbled, feeling like he had to make his loyalty clear before explaining the situation in detail. Not wanting to let her guessing his feelings. "The nights when we play at some pub in the city, they like to ask around until they get an answer on your number or address and then they appear there in the morning or call you in the middle of the night. It's insane but you can't change it. People like to talk in this business and someone needs your address or number if you want to be available."
"You know, I won't hold it against you if you did let them in," she said, turning her head to look at him and making sure that he knew that she meant it. "I mean, we aren't really together anymore. You don't have to wait for us to be together anymore to get your pleasure."
"No, don't say that." Wrecking his hands down his face, Noel buried himself in his own shame as she uttered the words that could easily rip his heart out at the sound alone.
"It's true though, you said it yourself."
"I know what I said and I know that I didn't mean it. I don't want you away but we barely see each other and you've never had anyone besides me."
"What if I don't want anyone else?"
"You should. You shouldn't settle for someone like me. I'm not the type of person people want to spend forever with once they see what else the world has to offer."
Turning her body to face him, knees knocking against each other as she stripped herself off of any pride that she might still wear from having to pretend like his words over the phone didn't shatter her whole world into pieces and her back being too stiff to bend down and pick them up again.
"The last month that we spent apart was enough time for me to decide what I wanted, I put up with lonely evenings and phone calls at two in the morning without wanting something else before that and nothing about my feelings towards you have changed in that time since you moved to London. I met new people, I befriended people from different places and I like them, I really do, but they're not you, Noel. They never could be and that's what I want. I want you. I want to spend all my time with you and meet the people that are in your new life. I want to know you again like you are part of myself."
"We know how this ends though. We've tried it, this long distance thing, and look where it got us. We're sitting on a park bench barely able to say anything to each other in fear of saying the wrong thing. You might know what you want but it isn't this. And as much as I want you here, I know that it won't be possible. I mean, you've got responsibilities in Burnage and I have them here-"
"I'm going to London University," she cut in before he could say another word about an impossible dream.
His eyes snapped up from where they rested on the way his own fingers fidgeted in his lap. Staring at her in disbelief just like he did back at his flat, the moment when he couldn't believe that she was real. It was the same now, he still couldn't believe that this was the life he was living. That having her in his close proximity was going to be his future, one that was too good to be true. But she stared at him with a determination that told him that everything she was saying was true.
"What?" he asked again. Voice slurred in disbelief.
"I got in. Found the letter in front of my room this morning and I felt like it was a sign to come here. I don't think I would've if it wasn't for the confirmation that there's still hope. I thought, if I'm already going to live in the same city as you again, we might as well talk it out before we meet somewhere unexpectantly and it becomes this awkward moment where we are both with different people and realize that we have become two different people at the same time. I don't think I could've endured that."
"You're actually gonna live here?" This time, he cut her off before she could unravel too far.
"I am. Summer semester, four months."
And for the first time in months he let himself hold her without the fear of having her slip away any second. Wrapping her arms around her waist and burying his head in her neck. He pulled her so close, she fell into his lap. Almost straddling him as to not fall from his hold. A thousand little pecks landing on her neck and jaw as he let out all the love he bundled up and locked behind a concrete door the moment he realized that they wouldn't have the promise of a solid future. All the bumps in the road that they had to endure finally making sense in his mind. They weren't there to bring them apart but closer together on the long run.
"You think, that you can wait four months on me or do you still want to be broken up?" she asked, pushing his head from her neck, both hands on each side of his face to hold him in place and not let him duck in embarrassment of the public affection he gave her in that moment. Making him look into her eyes as he answered.
"I've been waiting longer than four months already, I think I can manage a bit more with something to look forward to. Especially something like that."
Setting her down to keep the stares at bay, he still held his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Pulling her into his side, his lips pestered to the top of her head. Breathing her in, mumbling against her hair every time he had something to say.
"You could move in with us," he offered once the thought settled in his mind. "Guigsy won't mind and my bed's big enough for both of us to sleep there even on bad nights when you don't want to face me. When the air's too hot and you force me out of my cuddling habit."
"It's not a habit, it's an obsession," she conquered. Hitting his chest to make him admit it.
"Alright, alright. Maybe it is, but only because of you."
"I can't believe one month of seperation made this more sappy."
In the end, I don't care who wins, both of them deserve it. But please just play a little longer. What am I gonna do with all the time I have left after only 3 sets???
Summary: after a fight, the only thing that stays is trust in each other (I am bag with another Jannik fic after 6 months)
Warnings: angst, starvation used in a metaphorical context, wounds/hurt used in a metaphorical context, mentions of blood, fluff at the end
Wordcount: 1.1k
Masterlist, ATP Tennis Masterlist
The room felt like it was closing in on her as she stared at the crumbling ceiling above. Their house slowly losing support under the weight of their rainstorm. He hadn't come in again after she send him out and even when it was what she wanted at that time, it wasn't what she wanted now that the thoughts settled.
All the doubts and off-hand comments she'd gotten from all sides at the beginning of their relationship. How Jannik was a guy that would get distant the moment things weren't running smoothly anymore. How his life was one of structure and that their love had to follow the same rules.
But emotions aren't something she ever learned to control.
She closed off from time to time, letting him guide her without complaints even when it wasn't where she was heading but eating only ever tasted as good as long as you don't throw up. And hunger comes again and again until starvation marks the end and right now, she felt like she was starving herself. Not allowing her common sense to take over in fear of it not being the right thing to do. What if he wasn't ready to talk yet? What if he'd never want to talk again?
Tossing and turning gave her reasons to dig her fingernails into her skin as if it was by accident. Leaving little red carves in her arms and legs and under her eyes, over her cheekbones or down her jaw. Biting her lips until she had to suck in the blood to keep it from dripping down on his side of the bed.
The fight wasn't bad, it wasn't a tragedy waiting to happen but the words felt hurtful all the same. How he had assured her on all her worst fears, pushing them further into her corner the longer they screamed. His voice always steady while hers broke and shattered in frustration of his composure. If only he would ever let himself say what he wanted to say in the way he wanted to.
It was the break-point of their argument. How his voice always sounded so professional lately when he told her he loved her or the way he barely let himself want her anymore. It wasn't neglect that she felt, it was change that she didn't want because it wasn't one that held truth at its core.
She tasted the bitterness in his tone as he finally snapped.
She felt him admire the blood dripping down her chest before guilt settled over his satisfaction at the hit. But before he could close the wound the door to their bedroom was already slammed shut. His own understanding of her coping mechanism leading him away from the entryway and towards the quiet living room. Listening to her shedding out her sadness on her own and the rustle of their sheets whenever she kicked the image of him in her mind.
When it was quiet, he thought it was over. No further sob, no deserved kick or fist against the mattress that would transfer it to his already sore muscles. This was it, he was sure of it.
Until the lock opened and he sat up fast enough for the room to spin. Eyes drained on the door-handle, waiting for the metal to move downwards to indicate that what he heard wasn't just a cruel prank that his mind played on him.
She stepped out before he could register the new darkness filling up part of the room. Eyes low as she wrapped her arms around herself, waiting for his upset tone and bored look at her figure. Though all she found in him when she looked up was worry and genuine regret. Not the kind you get when you heard someone was doing bad but when you could feel it twisting in your heart. Her pain was his now too.
"Amore," he whispered, the quiet of the night making it sound like a shout and she tensed at the sound. The gentle edge of his words sedating in the hour of day.
He noticed the forced errors in her face under the moonlight as she stepped back again, wobbling on unsure feet as he pushed himself up from the cushion that already bent to his discomfort. Stepping closer, brushing over the marks that her anger left behind as a reminder of her own decision. It was purposefully mocking him. Showing him just what he'd subconsciously done to her.
Tracing each line as if it were brushstrokes on a painting. His eyes following every movement of his thumb, the rest of his fingers treading through her hair, holding her down. Jannik felt his heart stop as she leaned into his touch without hesitation.
"I'm sorry," she said, choking down the remaining tears that were never meant for him. His eyebrows furrowing in confusion. The pale skin seeming almost ghostly if it wasn't for the shadows of his freckles and features that danced under the moonlight. "I shouldn't force you to act differently than you're wanting to just so it makes me feel better."
"No, no, no," he quickly cut her off. Catching the arm that tried to wipe away her sadness from beneath her eyes with his free hand and bringing it up to his lips. Mumbling against her bones so it would go directly through her skin into her veins and through to her heart. "I shouldn't behave how I did and you were right for telling me that. I've been so busy, after Roland Garros and now preparation for Wimbledon, I think part of me got stuck in work when all of me should've been here. Home with you."
"I don't ask you to completely lose your focus when you're here, I just don't want you to lose me out of your sight when you're focused," she redirected her words from before into a motion of comfort and understanding. It was coming from a place of worry rather than one of sadness.
"I know, amore. But I want you to know that I never lose you out of my sight. Even when it seems like I'm not fully present, you're always with me. Always." Kissing her temple, letting his lips linger for a minute, he breathed with her. Making sure her heart-rate was down to it's normal 80, counting each pulse that pounded against his finger pressed to the vein against her throat. "Promise."
“i want novak to win” “i want fonseca to win” i want literally anyone that will humiliate and terminate the f*ckass abusive pathetic rat that is zv*rev, thank you.
