─── 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬

𝙽𝙾𝙰𝙷 𝙷𝚆𝙰𝙽𝙶───

[oldnorths]

               TABLE    OF    CONTENTS﹕

google  doc    –    about

statistics    –    stats

connections    –    current    connections

wanted    –    wanted    connections

pinterest    –    pinterest    board

self    -    paras    –    all    self    paras

[oldnorths]

have you ever been rejected?

  ⠀    ❝      no?      ❞  ⠀    

[g0ldenruless]

send me “have you evers” and I can only reply with “yes” or “no”

[isadvra]

have you ever lied to noah?

                              “no.”

send   me   “have   you   evers”   and   i   can   only   reply   with   “yes”   or   “no”

[elicts]

                               𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞, @oldnorths                     ( ft. a playlist inspired by noah hwang )

[oldnorths]

the  setting:  any  time  from  before  strathmore,  noah’s  either  in  russia  or  florence,  unknown.

the  scene:  noah  singing  with  excitement  the  song  from  blue’s  clues  while  he  checks  whatever  mailbox  he’s  beside,  you  can  hear  the  happy  “we  just  got  a  letter  ♡  wonder  who  it’s  from!  ♡”

the  letters:  dear  noah,

the  response:  dear  eliot,

@elicts 

[oldnorths]

status﹕          closed,     for     @rosegm location﹕          kitchen.    <3

               *    ˛              A   SPOONFUL   OF    cinnamon   toast   crunch   is   brought   to   his   lips   upon   rose’s   arrival   into   the   kitchen   –   accompanied   by   unsweetened   vanilla   almond   milk   in   lieu   of   the   milk   that’s   usually   left   in   the   fridge.    the   corners   of   his   lips   tick   up   at   her,   an   attempt   to   let   her   know   that   he’s   happy   to   see   her.    for   most   of   his   trip,   he’s   spent   it   with   his   head   down,   shifting   his   gaze   whenever   he’d   happen   to   be   in   the   same   room   as   someone   else;    he’s   always   been   a   sort   of   loner   anyway,   finding   comfort   in   the   time   spent   alone.    the   pages   always   seem   clearer,   the   sun   shines   a   little   brighter   –   the   world   seems   to   move   a   little   softer   when   it’s   just   him;   most   people   seem   to   drag   the   sun   down   a   little,   pull   in   the   clouds   when   they   don’t   mean   to.    noah   doesn’t   intend   to   mark   other   beings   as   burdens,   but   for   the   duration   of   the   trip,   so   far,   he’s   looked   at   everyone   with   a   little   more   disdain   than   usual,   a   little   less   heart   than   usual.

               he   had   intended   to   spend   new   year   alone,   after   all,   attending   the   party   reluctantly,   getting   tangled   in   a   hallway   and   making   yet,   another   mistake.    noah   didn’t   expect   much   from   his   peers,   or   from   his   seniors       –         but   the   tourmaline   is   as   kind   as   she   is   observant.    rose   had   given   him   a   glimpse   of   normalcy   on   a   vacation   where   everyone   was   desperate   to   pretend   everything   was   alright;    he   was   grateful   to   be   treated   –   maybe   as   just   a   friend,   not   a   prodigy.    rose’s   company   is   welcome   by   him,   then,   as   he   finally   ventures   out   of   his   room   for   breakfast   instead   of   bringing   it   back   to   his   room.   ⠀      ❝         góðan daginn,         ❞   ⠀      he   greets   her,   jokingly   dropping   icelandic       –         his   smile   widens   for   a   moment   before   almost   dropping.   ⠀      ❝         how’re   things?         ❞

[oldnorths]

status﹕          closed,     for     @gvrnets​ location﹕          indoor     pool​,    the     deep    end.

                *    ˛               HE   MESSED   UP.    which   shouldn’t   be   a   surprise   to   him   at   this   point;   twenty   two   years   of   this,   noah   has   made   a   mistake   or   two   at   every   single   branch   in   the   road.    take   the   road   less   traveled,   he’s   always   heard,   but   the   path   with   lesser   footsteps   often   leads   to   bandaged   fingers   and   violet   rimmed   eyes.    he   feels   like   a   fool   with   the   inability   to   learn,   the   refusal   to   pick   up   on   his   mistakes,   the   stubbornness   written   into   his   bones   denying   him   the   pleasure   of   moving   on   from   his   faults.    now,   there’s   a   lesson   to   be   learned   in   every   mistake   –   the   world   tells   him   –   there   is   something   to   take   away   from   each   lesion   that   scars   upon   your   skin.    it   isn’t   as   if   he’s   always   looked   at   the   world   with   wide   eyes,   either,   the   darkness   in   his   hues   have   never   been   laced   with   the   stars   in   the   sky   or   the   honey   stolen   from   the   sweetest   of   gods.    he   doesn’t   possess   doe   eyes,   big   with   wonder   and   naive   in   intention;   he   has   seen   the   very   worst   of   the   world   and   cradled   thanatos   in   his   lap ⠀ ⠀    ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀    ⠀ no,   he   knows   what   the   roads   offer   and   he   still   finds   himself   with   his   foot   in   the   trap.

                when   he   finds   hollis,   noah   is   worse   for   wear   –   evident   in   eyes   rimmed   with   a   rose   tint,   a   flush   of   pink   across   the   tops   of   his   cheek,               it   matches   the   tip   of   his   nose.    though,   he   turns   toward   his   opal   with   a   half   -   hearted   grin.    with   his   feet   dipped   into   the   heated   water,   he   scoots   away   from   the   edge   as   the   senior   garnet   approaches   and   noah   manages   another   smile,   though   his   lips   fall   before   he   can   even   attempt   to   pretend   that   he’s   alright.    he   isn’t.    he   assumes   it’d   be   best   to   not   even   hide   it   at   this   point,   a   strange   feeling   overcomes   him   when   he   hears   in   the   back   of   his   mind   that   maybe   he   doesn’t   want   to   hide   it   from   hollis.    he’s   spent   so   long   being   independent,   weighing   his   feelings   evenly   atop   his   shoulders   instead   of   lending   them   to   the   hands   that’ve   been   outstretched   to   him.    rose   gave   him   the   first   taste   of   it,   perhaps   he   would   want   to   find   it   more   often.   ⠀      ❝         hey,         ❞   ⠀      he   starts   softly   –   he   isn’t   a   fan   of   the   way   his   voice   echoes   sadly   around   him.   ⠀      ❝         uh      –      i   hope   it’s   okay,      can   i   ask   you   about   something?    for   some   advice.         ❞

[oldnorths]

𝐬𝐦𝐬    ›    𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐞.

jolie: you talked about new moon vs eclipse for ten minutes straight which i found way more compelling

jolie: now that i think about it you did mention something about a cap but you could've been referring to headgear

jolie: how about this if you don't find it by tomorrow we'll go buy you a new one

noah: i was right and i stand by it. in new moon, you get the most accurate monologue of depression that most movies will never show you but in eclipse, jacob never has his shirt on – it's a tie, practically. the only thing those movies don't have is the scene where edward saves bella from tyler's car and then he just hops away.

noah: anyway

noah: i have money i can buy one i just don't wanna get out of the chateau because one of the opals always ends up tagging along

noah: i got stuck on the ski lift not once - but TWICE with the opes.

[oldnorths]

𝐬𝐦𝐬    ›    𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐞.

noah: we spoke on nye right

noah: if we did, did i happen to mention where i last placed my swim cap haha

noah: i can't find it please help me look for it i don't want the chlorine to ruin my hair i just dyed it :(

[ksunwoos-archive]

yeah.

[oldnorths]

──     𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞﹕            ofginevra​

      ✺     ─     𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇  𝐈𝐒  𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑  ?  𝐓𝐎  𝐋𝐈𝐄  ,  or  to  deliberately  withhold  information  ?  rather  ,  when  looking  at  two  wolves  in  the  eye  ,  with  one’s  bite  will  be  more  gentle  ?  skin  will  be  pierced  either  way  ,  no  matter  how  many  times  ginevra  may  wrap  herself  in  bandages  ,  cover  wounds  with  clothing  and  call  them  healed  ───  there  is  always  a  scar  left  behind  by  her  own  corrosive  behavior  ,  too  many  lies  have  been  told  (  and  secrets  kept  ,  even  without  reason  )  for  ginevra  to  call  herself  good  without  her  voice  breaking  over  the  word  like  lips  curling  around  blasphemy  .  she  is  not  one  to  discuss  her  own  morality  ,  nor  is  she  one  to  discuss  much  at  all  ───  if  omission  is  a  sin  ,  ginevra  ought  to  be  on  her  knees  ,  begging  for  repentance  just  for  a  chance  at  salvation  conceded  by  divine  mercy  .  she  lies  through  silence  ,  lets  others  believe  what  they  will  and  draw  conclusions  from  a  look  or  a  pause  ───  let  them  be  the  guilty  ones  if  they  come  to  believe  something  untrue  ,  let  it  be  their  fault  for  misreading  her  rather  than  hers  for  ripping  the  pages  out  .  yet  noah  looks  at  her  now  ,  even  in  silence  ───  and  she  knows  that  he  knows  her  too  well  to  fall  prey  to  her  lies  .  the  ’  i’m  fine  ’  that  ginevra  writes  in  the  stars  by  failing  to  explain  that  she  is  not  ,  dismissed  by  one  with  a  telescope  in  hand  who  already  knows  how  to  trace  the  constellations  .  he  is  as  observant  as  she  is  ,  something  that  had  initially  drawn  them  to  each  other  when  eyes  met  in  an  italian  bar  ───  something  that  comes  back  to  haunt  her  now  ,  when  a  hum  and  a  shift  in  conversation  tells  ginevra  what  she  would  rather  not  hear  .  he  has  seen  the  best  and  worst  of  her  ,  he  looks  upon  the  image  she  presents  to  practically  everyone  else  and  calls  her  a  liar  .  ❝  you  too  ,  ❞  ginevra  echoes  ,  at  his  wish  of  a  happy  new  year  ───  if  he  truly  wishes  her  happiness  ,  he  is  more  merciful  than  ginevra  would  give  him  credit  for  .  a  silence  settles  ,  momentary  ,  as  ginevra  wonders  how  to  answer  his  question  ───  she  does  not  dwell  on  resolutions  ,  she  sets  goals  whenever  it  is  time  and  achieves  them  no  matter  the  date  upon  the  calendar  .  how  does  she  tell  noah  that  she  told  herself  to  find  poppy  months  ago  ,  and  continues  to  come  up  short  ───  that  maybe  she’s  too  late  now  ,  and  has  been  for  a  while  ?  how  does  she  pin  the  title  new  year’s  resolution  to  her  desire  to  unite  her  circlet  ───  rather  ,  the  society  ?  to  learn  how  to  lead  and  do  so  properly  ,  to  keep  everything  from  falling  apart  under  her  command  ?  ❝  survival  ,  ❞  ginevra  answers  instead  .  and  her  voice  is  weak  as  an  attempted  joke  falls  flat  in  front  of  a  hollow  girl  ───  because  the  target  on  her  back  mirrors  the  one  worn  by  poppy  nighmore  ,  because  their  fate  could  be  shared  .  she  turns  to  him  then  ,  blanket  still  around  her  shoulders  ,  head  tilted  to  the  side  in  curiosity  .  ❝  what  about  you  ?  ❞

             ❪ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ * ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ the   world   hasn’t   been   kind   to   him,   as   he’s   sure   it   hasn’t   been   kind   to   her,   either.   he   has   seen   the   ugliness   it   has   to   offer,   over   and   over   again   has   he   been   exposed   to   the   horrific   faces   that   gaea   has   to   offer   him.   still,   he   has   found   beauty   in   the   cracks   of   the   cement   he’s   been   encased   in,   reached   for   the   sun   from   the   bottom   of   the   labyrinth   as   if   he   is   icarus   enchanted   by   apollo,   spoken   to   the   stars   while   covered   in   mud   as   if   artemis   looks   down   upon   him   with   a   smile   on   her   lips.   there   is   always   beauty   around   him,   there   is   a   sliver   of   𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞   𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲   in   everyone   around   him   and   for   almost   five   years   of   his   life,   he’s   thought   of   the   diadem   as   a   human   with   one   of   the   most   human   souls   he’d   ever   met.   noah   doesn’t   care   how   stained   someone   is,   he   doesn’t   look   at   the   saltwater   droplets   or   the   burnt   edges   and   view   them   as   horrors.   he’s   witnessed   enough   of   those   to   learn   that   faults   and   heartbreak   aren’t   curses ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ no,   they   aren’t   blessings   either,   but   they   aren’t   to   be   hidden   away,   to   be   ashamed   of.   ginevra   from   florence   was   a   flawed   girl   with   a   past   she   was   ready   to   toss   away   in   favor   of   a   weightless   night,   she   was   an   enigma   that   allowed   him   to   drape   a   blanket   of   gold   around   her   shoulders,   she   was   a   person   that   stayed   with   him   when   noah   often   forgot   strangers   after   taking   pieces   of   them   for   himself.   from   her,   he   would’ve   taken   her   spirit,   her   remarkable   electricity   that   powered   her   heart   and   her   mind,   but   he   had   taken   so   much   more   than   that;       he   had   stolen   her   MEMORY   and   kept   it   framed   above   a   fireplace,   let   her   be   praised   atop   a   mantle   that   he   had   defended   blindly   upon   his   initial   invitation.   yes,   for   so   long   he   had   remembered   her   as   vivid   oranges   and   cotton   candy   pinks ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ & ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ oh,   the   longer   he   knew   her   in   this   setting,   the   more   stained   the   canvas   got.   oranges   faded   into   brown,   pinks   were   dragged   down   into   reds ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ fate   had   never   been   on   their   side,   but   it   had   been   sure   to   weigh   down   whatever   pristine   image   he   had   held   of   her.   perhaps   it   was   his   fault   all   along,   for   believing   her   to   be   the   same,   young,   girl   in   the   country;   perhaps   it   is   his   fault   for   choosing   to   see   the   good   in   even   the   worst   of   demons       (       selfishness,   because   it’s   what   he’d   want   someone   to   do   for   him       ),   some   are    just   irredeemable,   it’s   a   lesson   he   has   yet   to   learn.

             her   answer   leaves   him   dissatisfied ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ resentment   often   weighs   the   same   as   the   sky;       atlas   mirrored,   fragment   of   the   world   upon   his   bare   shoulders.      when   she   turns   to   him   and   asks,   noah   wonders   if   she   means   it,   or   if   she’s   asking   out   of   duty.   a   fact   that   he   has   become   sure   of   in   the   past   month﹕       he   never   really   knew   her   at   all.   what   a   shame,   for   he   has   almost   moved   mountains   for   her.   what   a   blessing,   for   he   was   hurt   before   he   could   sacrifice   himself   for   her.   ⠀      ❝         don’t   have   one,         ❞   ⠀      he   tells   her.   ⠀      ❝         i’m   not   much   of   a   resolutions   guy.         ❞   ⠀      resolutions   sing   the   same   tune   as   promises   and   often,   he’s   found   himself   facing   a   mirror   that   he   shatters.   broken   shards   of   glass   litter   his   trail,   remnants   of   whatever   promises   he   has   broken   in   the   past.   ⠀      ❝         good   luck   on   survival,   though,   might   want   to   look   into   hiring   some   bodyguards.         ❞   ⠀

[weltenwellen]

Edna St. Vincent Millay, Collected Poems

[oldnorths]

@isadvra

[oldnorths]

𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐     ﹕      isadvra​

                              she   would   consider   herself   basic,   someone   who   tends   to   never   live   on   edge   because   they’re   scared   of   what   the   other   side   might   offer   to   them.   she   was   accustomed   to   being   alone,   having   been   let   down   by   many   different   aspects   in   her   life   that   the   most   out   of   character   experience   she   would   allow   herself   to   have   was   moving   to   england.   once   the   acceptance   letter   was   in   her   hands,   proof   that   she   made   it,   she   wasted   no   time   booking   a   flight   and   packing   her   bags.   she   hadn’t   known   what   england   had   in   store   for   her,   eyes   glued   out   the   window   during   the   plane   ride   over   while   anxiety   prevented   her   from   getting   any   sleep   and   her   foot   was   aching   from   how   much   it   jiggled   in   her   seat.   a   new   experience,   another   thing   she   would   be   dealing   with   alone.   she   didn’t   have   family   or   friends,   starting   a   whole   new   life   in   a   place   she   hadn’t   even   taken   the   time   to   research.   it   was   the   only   thing   on   her   list   of   crazy   situations   she   got   herself   in,   a   girl   who   played   it   safe   and   watched   others   around   her   take   chances   that   she   was   too   afraid   to   take.   that   was   where   her   list   was   supposed   to   begin   and   end   ━   before   the   line   between   friendship   and   something   more   blurred   between   her   and   noah.   he   made   the   list,   a   secret   she   would   have   to   keep   to   herself   and   possibly   will   if   he   dares   to   walk   away,   dares   to   leave   her   shattered   heart   in   his   wake   again   because   of   reasons   that   couldn’t   make   sense   to   her.   noah   wasn’t   someone   others   easily   forgot,   would   end   up   trying   to   see   him   in   every   other   person   they   attempt   to   have   interest   in.   he   was   someone   isadora   would   stupidly   pine   for   for   the   rest   of   her   life,   become   the   ted   mosby   of   the   society   and   watch   as   her   robin   found   true   love   with   someone   with   their   time,   with   their   space   in   their   heart   no   other   person   makes   home   in.   she   would   be   happy   for   him,   but   pretend   at   the   same   time   ━   how   can   you   not   be   happy   that   your   love   has   matched   with   their   soulmate,   the   person   who   makes   up   their   better   half   to   be   whole,   yet   how   can   you   not   falter   when   the   person   you   love   doesn’t   see   that   in   you?   isadora   knew   what   it   felt   like   to   feel   wanted   by   noah   and   it   was   so   much   harder   to   digest   than   accepting   unrequited   feelings,   so   much   harder   to   accept   being   a   possible   temporary   want   rather   than   never   catching   noah’s   eye.   she   knew   what   it   was   like   to   have   him;   what   his   hands   felt   like   against   her   skin,   searching   for   more   so   his   fingers   could   caress   across   out   of   want   instead   of   the   comfort   of   skin   on   skin.   she   knew   what   it   was   like   to   kiss   him,   to   pull   him   closer   and   crave   more   of   him   so   selfishly.

                                                  𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝  𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞﹕

             ❪ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ * ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ while   he   has   always   been   blessed   with   the   affection   of   eros   and   his   mother,   he   has   never   been   able   to   find   it   easy   to   love   himself.   it’s   easy,       to   love   everyone   around   him.   a   lesson   he   has   always   carried   so   close   to   his   heart   is   that   there   is   something   to   love   about   EVERYONE,   and,   oh,   does   he   love   everyone.   noah   falls   quick,   attaching   himself   to   any   soul   that   shows   him   even   a   sliver   of   the   love   he   hands   out ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ how   drunk   he   gets   on   that   love.   it’s   sweeter   than   cherry   wine,   kinder   than   the   wind   chill   of   loneliness       (      and   all   the   self   loathing   that   comes   with   it       );   those   𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣   𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨   spent   tangled   with   someone   new   are   the   sort   of   evenings   he’s   always   craved,   he   has   preferred   the   taste   of   a   stranger   over   anyone   permanent.   it   is   easier,   he’s   learned,   to   twist   himself   away   from   someone   who   won’t   miss   him   as   much,                     the   more   he   gives,   the   harder   it   is   to   pull   the   thorns   out   of   their   fingertips ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ the   more   he   inevitably   wounds   them   with   a   rose   he   gifted   with   the   most   holy   of   intentions.   so   much   like   adonis,   bleeding   unto   pure   white   rose   petals   grown   by   aphrodite       (       he   watches   a   tear   roll   down   isadora’s   cheek,   noah   wonders   if   he   has   been   cursed   the   way   all   of   venus’   lovers   have       –       is   he   really   just   a   pawn   for   the   divine   or   has   aphrodite   smiled   upon   him   and   claimed   him   as   her   own?   foolish   boy,   he’s   always   known   his   fate   was   written   by   someone   he’d   never   know,   it’s   a   mistake   to   attempt   a   guess   at   it       );   his   hands   have   never   been   free   of   the   blame,   NO,   he   wears   scarlet   a   little   too   well   and   while   he   has   always   fallen   in   love   with   even   the   sinners,   he   has   deemed   himself   unworthy.   there   is   only   one   way   his   chapters   end   and   they   are   never   cloaked   in   sunrise   oranges   and   sunset   honey   –   they   are   almost   always   captured   doves   flying   free   from   wrought   iron   cages,   fleeing   his   captivity   and   his   penance.

             his   fingers   curl   into   themselves,   he   digs   his   nails   into   his   palms   so   deeply   they   come   back   tinged   a   carnelian   hue.   streaks   of   white   atop   his   head   are   stained   pink   when   he   runs   a   palm   through   them,   his   eyes   unable   to   choose   one   singular   thing   to   focus   on.   noah   looks   toward   the   party,   he   looks   at   isadora,   at   the   doors   that   line   the   hallway,   at   the   floors   beneath   their   feet;   his   hues   flit   from   direction   to   direction,   the   balance   beam   tipping   and   swaying   in   every   which   way   as   if   judgement   hangs   above   him.   this   feels   eerily   similar,   the   likeness   of   the   situation   rings   clearly   in   his   mind   and   he   remembers   running   away   from   her   with   the   very   confession.   the   coward’s   choice,   when   faced   with   the   consequences   of   his   SIN   he   had   chosen   to   leave;   and   then   he   had   chosen   to   avoid   her   at   every   cost.   odd   behavior   for   a   boy   who   has   never   backed   down   from   confrontation,   it   isn’t   in   his   system   to   avoid   the   heartbroken,   he   is   so   used   to   handing   out   apologies   that   aren’t   wanted   and   yet,   he   hasn’t   apologized   to   her.   he’s   uttered   the   words      ‘      i’m      sorry      ’      but   doubt   runs   through   him   and   asks   if   he   ever   meant   it.   what   did   he   apologize   for?   did   he   ever   explain?   worse,   has   his   tongue   gotten   so   used   to   saying   it   that   he   just   did?   even   worse,   was   it   just   spoken   because   he   knew   she’d   forgive   him?

             …          and   what   a   𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑   you   are ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ carved   from   brimstone   and   cursed   with   hellfire;      what   do   you   apologize   for,   when   do   you   mean   it   and   when   do   you   not?   of   course   you   aren’t   worthy   of   the   love   you   give;                            𝐍𝐎𝐓   𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍   𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋   would   look   you   in   the   eye,   tilt   your   chin   up   to   meet   his   gaze   –   what   kind   of   man   tears   the   devil   apart?          …

             noah   knows   he   has   to   say   no.   he   wrongs   her   every   moment   he   keeps   her   wrapped   around   his   finger,   he   continues   to   take,   and   take,   and   take   from   her   knowing   that   his   very   decision   could   irreparably   damage   her.   it’d   kill   him,   to   watch   her   soul   drop   from   a   burst   of   yellow   to   the   dullest   of   grays,   and   he   knows   that   the   longer   he   allows   her   to   want   him,   the   quicker   her   color   diminishes.   he   steps   back   over   to   her   and   embraces   her,   his   arms   gently   wrap   around   her   figure   and   pull   her   close   to   him.   there   is   a   message   he   must   deliver   in   this   moment,   lips   parted   to   let   her   know   that   he’s   letting   her   go.   his   chin   rests   atop   her   head,   his   hand   holds   the   back   of   her   head   tenderly   as   he   rocks   them   slightly ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ oh,   what   a   burden   he   has   handed   her,   what   a   curse   he   has   gifted   her;   there   is   none   worse   than   loving   him,   there   is   none   that   weighs   more ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ the   corners   of   his   lips   tug   downwards.      ‘      i’m   letting   you   go,   i’m   letting   you   go,      ’      he   can   practically   hear   the   voice   of   the   goddess   in   his   ears,   she   encourages   him   to   break   another   heart   and   to   fall   back   into   the   abysmal   red   passion   that   only   a   god   can   possess.   with   her   in   his   arms,   noah   bites   back   his   words,   holds   a   confession   that   yes,   this   has   ALWAYS   been   about   her.   him   pulling   away   at   every   moment   has   been   to   save   her   –   to   push   her   back   into   the   land   of   the   living   before   she   becomes   nothing   more   than   a   walking   soul,   identity   forgotten   in   the   fields   of   asphodel.   he   has   to   let   her   go   because   if   he   doesn’t,   she   will   get   dragged   down   with   him,   trapped   in   the   darkest   of   cells   with   nobody   but   a   mad   titan   to   keep   her   company.   she   is   worth   more   than   what   he   can   give   her.

             but,   where   eros’   mother   insists   that   he   break   another   heart,   where   aphrodite   BEGS   for   his   return,   eros   asks   him   to   bend   to   his   selfishness.   noah   pulls   away   to   look   down   at   isadora   and   his   palm   encases   her   cheek,   his   thumb   swipes   away   at   saltwater,   capturing   crystalline   tears   with   his   finger   tips   and   eros   strikes   gold.

             𝐁𝐄   𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇,   𝐁𝐎𝐘,   𝐅𝐎𝐑   𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃   𝐇𝐀𝐒   𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑   𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍   𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃   𝐓𝐎   𝐘𝐎𝐔   –   𝐀𝐍𝐃   𝐘𝐎𝐔   𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓   𝐎𝐖𝐄   𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌   𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

             he   means   to   whisper   a   final,      ‘      i   love   you      ’      –   noah   means   to   tell   her   he’s   letting   her   go,   he’s   supposed   to   push   her   away   one   last   time   and   keep   her   there.               son   of   the   old   north,   as   foolish   as   the   winter,   as   weak   as   the   river’s   ice;   he   presses   a   deep   kiss   onto   her   lips.   there   is   no   hunger   in   this   one,   no   trace   of   gentleness,   no   hint   of   desperation ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ his   lips   trace   a   story   among   her   softness,   he   sings   a   lament   as   he   tilts   her   head   back.   it   is   every   apology   he   owes   her,   every   single   moment   that   he   has   known   he’s   loved   her       (       from   now,   tracing   the   line   all   the   way   to   the   very   first   time,   watching   her   dance   in   the   winter   snow       ).   he   wants   to   tell   her   how   lucky   he   is,   that   in   any   time   he   could’ve   existed,   he’s   lived   at   the   same   time   as   her.   there   is   a   confession   that   scratches   the   back   of   his   throat   that   longs   to   be   spoken,   a   laden   secret   that   he   hands   her   through   his   fingerprints.   his   head   tilts,   his   lips   shift   and   he   deepens   his   hold   against   her,   noah’s   lips   move   softly      –      SOMBERLY,   as   another   uproar   of   laughter   plays   from   downstairs.   in   this   moment,   he   knows   he   is   letting   her   go.   THIS   is   their   kiss   in   the   rain,   their   confrontation   at   the   airport   but   some   people   just   don’t   get   happy   endings   and   noah   has   NEVER   known   the   comfort   of   one.   he   has   never   closed   his   book   feeling   satisfied.   his   pages   are   just   one   tear   stained   story   after   the   other   and   though   he   waits   and   waits   for   the   sun   to   finally   shine   down   upon   him,   he   has   always   stared   up   at   the   overcast   and   known   it   wasn’t   meant   to   be.   letting   her   go   is   the   painful   ending   to   a   story   that   was   always   meant   to   crash   and   burn   for   him,   but   it   is   only   the   beginning   for   her.   anyone   would   be   lucky   to   have   her,   they   would   be   blessed   to   hold   her   in   their   arms,   they   would   have   the   luckiest   life   if   they   got   to   keep   her.          …          𝚗𝚘𝚊𝚑   𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝   𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝   𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢   𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑.

             when   he   finally   pulls   away,   he’s   sure   his   appearance   mirrors   hers.   swollen   lips,   messy   hair ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ though   his   eyes   had   never   held   the   universe   the   way   hers   has.   ⠀      ❝         i’m   letting   you   go,         ❞   ⠀      his   voice   drops   to   a   whisper,   he   pushes   her   flyaways   out   of   her   face   and   kisses   her   forehead.   ⠀      ❝         please,   go.         ❞   ⠀      and   he   pushes   her   away,   gently   guiding   her   toward   the   party   as   he   takes   a   step   back   toward   his   room.

…          i   adore   you,   i   absolutely   do   –   perhaps   my   soul   has   always   cried   out   for   yours,   but   yours   has   always   sang   a   song   i   don’t   have   the   privilege   of   understanding.   i   love   you,   i   love   you,   i   love   you﹕                  i’m   choosing   to   let   you   go.

[oldnorths]

𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐     ﹕      isadvra​

                              how   was   isadora   meant   to   walk   away   with   her   head   held   high   when   noah   was   allowed   to   take   as   much   as   he   wanted   while   she   was   all   too   willing   to   give,   give,   give.   there’s   desperation   behind   her   actions   the   last   couple   of   weeks,   something   she   hadn’t   realized   she   could   experience   through   him   ━   putting   her   pride   on   the   line   for   a   small   conversation   with   noah,   a   reminder   that   she   was   still   there;   to   please   not   forget   about   her   the   way   others   do.   there   was   always   a   chance   at   an   upper hand,   a   smile   in   his   direction   that   proved   she   built   her   walls   back   up   around   her   before   deciding   to   make   her   way   to   the   party   rather   than   stopping   for   just   a   second   of   his   attention,   to   never   suggest   the   two   stay   alone   together   like   the   seriousness   of   their   situation   doesn’t   hang   between   them.   isadora   clings   to   anything   noah   gives   her   because   she’s   scared   once   the   thread   breaks,   once   she   finds   herself   slowly   letting   go   ━   she   lost   him   for   good.   she   gives   noah   the   upper hand   he   always   had   over   her:   when   he   pressed   his   lips   against   her’s   first,   mouth   tainted   with   alcohol,   but   tasting   just   as   sweet   as   she   thought.   he   pulled   her   in   close,   the   illusion   of   a   commitment,   of   a   longing   to   make   something   a   reality,   and   somehow   he   was   still   the   one   to   put   her   at   arms   length,   walking   out   of   her   room   with   regret   heavy   on   his   tensed   shoulders.   he   had   the   upper hand   even   when   she   made   the   power   move   to   walk   over   to   him,   speak   to   him   casually,   only   to   be   lead   to   the   dancefloor   and   given   a   false   promise   of   mending   what   was   torn.   late   night   at   the   pool,   she   offered   him   comfort   ━   reached   out   a   hand   for   him   to   take   that   he   no   longer   wanted,   no   longer   sought.   the   pain   of   reality   stings,   a   comparison   of   the   past   consistently   on   her   mind.   if   they   never   crossed   the   line   between   friendship   and   something   more,   a   path   toward   lovers,   he   would’ve   grabbed   her   and   fell   into   her   arms,   allowed   her   to   comfort   him   the   way   it   used   to   be.

                                                 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝  𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞﹕

              ❪ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ * ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ there   are   words   he’s   wanted   to   hear   all   his   life,   prose   that   he’s   always   wanted   to   hear   in   the   midst   of   the   night,   poetry   he’s   longed   to   have   whispered   in   his   ears   as   the   sun   rises   over   him.   he   has   learned   to   become   intimate   with   language,   tasting   them   upon   his   tongue   in   every   new   place   he’s   landed   and   learning   them   as   if   they   were   extra   limbs   attached   to   his   soul ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ and   maybe   his   favorite   language       (       or,   not   his   favorite,   he’d   label   it   –   moreso   the   tongue   he   has   grown   most   PROFICIENT   at       )       is   the   dialect   of   goodbyes.   he   has   always   looked   at   himself   and   intimately   understood   why   it   was   so   easy   for   people   to   give   up   on   him;   what   is   there   to   save   about   him?   who   logically   shines   their   torch   upon   a   beast   and   wants   to   rescue   it,   fangs   and   all?   when   the   question   of      ‘      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋,   𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃   𝐘𝐎𝐔   𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄   𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅?      ’      arises,   the   answer   is   always   the   same   –   no   is   almost   the   same   in   every   language.   if   it   comes   down   to   saving   the   beast   or   saving   the   girl,   his   answer   will   never   sway.   isadora   tells   him   what   no   one   has   ever   said   before       (       pleas   to   hold   on   and   stay   are   much   different,   aren’t   they?   he’s   pushed   people   away   before,   NOBODY   has   fought   to   keep   him   the   way   she   does   )      and   it   echoes   in   his   ears,   it   rings   like   a   church   bell   in   the   early   morning.   oh,   to   hear   those   words   from   her   is   enough   to   make   his   head   spin,   to   make   his   mouth   part   as   if   she   has   stolen   the   air   out   of   his   lungs.⠀ ⠀   ⠀ it   is   everything   he   has   ever   wanted   to   hear,   oh,   how   he   longs   to   hear   her   utter   those   words.   he   has   longed   to   listen   to   someone   tell   him   this   and   mean   it,   he   has   ached   to   hear   it   upon   her   melodic   voice,   to   listen   to   the   rhapsody   and   actually   believe   it.   how   FITTING   it   is,   that   he’s   fallen   in   love   with   a   writer   and   how   equally   FUCKED   UP   it   is,   that   he   doesn’t   believe   her.   he   has   prayed   to   an   empty   god   and   sang   his   praises   to   the   heavens   to   hear   even   an   echo   of,   ⠀      “         i’d   never   give   up   on   you         ”,   and   he   still   can’t   accept   it.   it   is   too   foreign   of   a   concept   to   believe   it   fully,   she   may   mean   it,   but   noah   knows   she’ll   rescind   it   sooner   or   later ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ THEY   ALL   DO,   after   all.

  ⠀    ❝         please,         ❞   ⠀      he   mumbles   against   her   lips.   noah   still   cups   her   jaw   and   his   chest   presses   against   hers,   he   traps   her   against   the   wall   with   his   frame   when   his   mouth   slowly   nudges   against   hers.   he   doesn’t   know   what   he   pleas   for ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ please,   don’t   leave   me,   please   don’t   give   up   on   me   or   please   give   up   on   me,   please   leave   me   so   i   don’t   have   to   leave   you   first.   to   any   god   that   will   listen,   to   any   pantheon   that   lingers   in   the   skies,   he   begs   them   for   an   answer   to   a   question   he   barely   understands   on   his   own.   his   brows   pull   together   with   another   kiss   as   he   teeters   the   line   between   gentle   kisses   and   hungry   movements.   noah   tears   himself   away   from   her   kiss,   away   from   her   lips   and   toward   her   jaw.   ⠀      ❝         give   me   up,         ❞   ⠀      he   says   in   between   planting   kisses   on   her   jawline,   down   to   the   corner.   ⠀      ❝         please,   is,   you   have   to.         ❞   ⠀      but   his   actions   speak   differently,   hands   traveling   on   their   own.   she’s   in   his   palm,   then   it’s   filled   with   locks   of   silky   hair,   then   with   her   shoulder   blades   and   the   small   of   her   back.   the   thought   of   a   half   hearted   prayer   almost   makes   him   scoff.   what   a   time   to   pray,   he   thinks,   as   his   mind   fills   with   the   most   UNHOLY   of   possibilities,   while   his   fingers   dig   into   her   hips   and   his   head   falls   into   the   crook   of   her   neck ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ his   breaths   are   shallow,   trying   to   catch   his   breath,   noah   gives   the   base   of   her   neck   a   ghost   of   kiss.   his   lips   just   trace   over   her   skin   while   his   arms   wrap   around   her   waist,   holding   her   against   him.   ⠀      ❝         you’re   going   to   have   to   let   me   go   sooner   or   later,         ❞   ⠀      noah   murmurs.

              a   stain   from   his   lips,   he   still   pushes   her   away.   permanent   black   ink   still   spills   from   his   lips,   droplets   upon   the   surface   of   her   skin,   embedding   into   pure   porcelain   as   he   continues   to   pull   away   from   someone   who’s   done   everything   right.   his   head   lifts   to   connect   their   lips   again       (       gentler   this   time,   slowly,   do   his   lips   brush   against   hers,   his   head   tilts   and      –      he   takes   his   time   now;   an   eternal   hot   and   cold       )      and   noah   is   made   painfully   aware   that   yes,   isadora   has   done   everything   right.   he   falls   into   love   as   if   he   has   no   choice,   spotting   a   little   piece   of   everybody   that   he   can   dote   on   and   the   pattern   should   have   been   the   same   with   her.   they   met,   and   he   should’ve   fallen   head   over   heels   for   her.   he   should’ve   held   her   hand   and   kissed   the   back   of   her   palm   in   the   morning   fog,   confessed   a   little   bit   too   early   and   kissed   her   at   the   airport.   according   to   repeated   behavior,   noah   should   have   already   lost   her   by   now   and   he   kisses   her   like   he   maybe   already   has.   but   he   hasn’t.   he   still   has   her,   god,   noah   still   has   isadora ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ shouldn’t   that   be   a   blessing?   shouldn’t   that   be   enough   to   convince   him   that   she   is   it   for   him? ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ no,   of   course   not.   the   words   that   rolled   from   his   tongue   to   josie   still   linger   in   his   throat,   they   still   mark   the   insides   of   his   cheeks   despite   how   much   he’s   tried   to   wash   them   out. ⠀ ⠀   ⠀no,   this   isn’t   enough.   nobody   is   enough   for   him   because   nobody   ever   will   be,   isn’t   that   what   he   said?   he   is   plagued   with   doubt   and   insecurity,   commitment   is   fleeting   with   him   and   one   more   reminder   while   he   pulls   away   from   her ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ he   has   always   hurt   those   around   him.   nobody   is   exempt   from   his   storm,   not   even   isadora.

              he   breaks   the   kiss   to   look   at   her   in   the   odd   lighting   of   the   hallway.   being   with   her   like   this   has   dulled   the   rest   of   the   world   in   comparison,   lights   a   little   dimmer,   the   sound   of   the   party   a   little   quieter ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ noah’s   head   snaps   toward   the   end   of   the   hallway,   toward   the   sounds   of   life   that   celebrate   the   upcoming   countdown.   the   very   threat   that   hangs   over   them   seems   to   loom   in   his   ears,   it   is   deafening,   so   loud   that   he   gets   lost   in   the   silence   of   it   and   yet,   he   doesn’t   separate   from   her.   he’s   still   lost   in   her   hold,   enchanted   by   her   aura,   his   hands   are   still   snug   on   her   waist   when   he   looks   back   at   her.   one   look.   he   leans   in   and   with   his   eyes   falling   shut,   gives   her   the   gentlest   kiss   he   has   ever   handed   anyone.   ⠀      ❝         this   isn’t   about   me,   sweetheart,   it’s   about   you,         ❞   ⠀      he   says   lowly   while   he   pulls   away.   he   kisses   the   tip   of   her   nose.   ⠀      ❝         ISADORA,         ❞   ⠀      rarely   does   he   say   her   full   name,   their   friendship   has   been   built   on   every   single   pet   name   he   can   give   her.   he   kisses   the   top   of   her   forehead.   ⠀      ❝         it   doesn’t   matter   what   i   want.         ❞   ⠀      if   it   were   simply   about   what   he   wanted,   he'd   have   her   by   now.   noah   pulls   apart   from   her   with   his   eyebrows   drawn   together   and   he   can   feel   his   chest   caving   in,   crushing   himself   into   the   place   he   stands.   he   can   already   see   her   features   shifting,   he   already   knows   what   it’s   like   to   walk   away   from   her   and   he   never   wants   to   do   it   again,   but   there’s   a   raucous   uproar   from   the   living   room   and   noah   can   practically   feel   ginevra   wrapping   a   rope   around   his   wrists   again.   perhaps   this   time   she’ll   weight   him   down   with   a   stone   and   push   him   off   the   edge   of   a   pier ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ even   worse,   perhaps   she’ll   do   it   to   isadora.   his   heart   seems   to   still   at   the   thought   of   her   enduring   punishment   for   something   he’s   started.   ⠀      ❝         you   have   to   give   me   up,   don’t   you   understand?         ❞   ⠀      his   voice   almost   buckles   in   on   itself,   an   uneven   step   taken   back.   ⠀      ❝         please,   let   me   go,   please,   i’m   begging   you.         ❞   ⠀      because,   if   she   doesn't,   he   doesn't   know   what   he'll   do.   maybe,   to   the   ends   of   the   earth   he'd   go   for   her,   through   hell   and   back   as   long   as   she's   there   waiting   for   him.   or   the   opposite,   perhaps,   where   he   leaves   her   at   the   gates   of   tartarus   without   a   rope   to   help   her   out,   where   he   breaks   her   heart   because   he   can       (       because   he   has   to,   it's   his   very   nature       ).     he   leaves   her   against   the   wall   he   pressed   her   into,   walking   until   his   back   meets   the   opposite   wall.   leaning   back   on   it,   he   gestures   a   hand   toward   her,   telling   her   not   to   step   toward   him.   his   tongue   swipes   over   his   lips   and   he   still   longs   for   her,   his   palms   itch   to   hold   her   again;   he   wants   to   do   this   all   over   again,   just   so   he   can   kiss   her   a   little   longer       (         you   can’t,   you   can’t,   you   can’t ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ stupid   boy,   love   isn’t   on   your   side   no   matter   how   many   offerings   you   leave   at   my   altar,   she   isn’t   yours   to   have,   she   isn’t   yours   to   love.   how   many   times   must   you   break   your   blessings   for   you   to   understand   that   they   were   never   your   blessings   to   begin   with? ⠀ ⠀    ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀    ⠀ oh,   how   eros   laughs   as   he   leaves   you       ).

[oldnorths]

𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐     ﹕      isadvra​

                              her   heart   won’t   ever   be  forgiven   for   a   choice   so   foolish,   completely   unrealistic   to   catch   and   keep.   isadora   was   emotion   driven,   reacting   without   hesitation   as   long   as   her   heart   was   giving   her   the   cues.   it   shows   in   the   way   she   snapped   at   basile   in   the   group   chat   when   noah   was   the   topic   of   conversation,   no   shame   consuming   her   even   after   it   blew   over   and   realized   her   actions   were   displayed   for   the   rest   of   her   opals   to   see.   it   shows   in   the   way   she   didn’t  reach   out   a   hand   first   toward   arah   after   noah   wronged   her,   tried   to   defend   noah’s   honor   even   without   him   around   to   see   it.   isadora   was   an   emotionally   driven   person,   but   she   would   never   think   twice   when   it   came   to   putting   herself   on   the   line   for   noah   ━   even   when   she   was   furious   at   him,   even   when   her   heart   was   chipped   and   cracked   because   she   fell   in   love   with   someone   who   continued   to   throw   mix   signals   in   her   direction.   it’s   easy   to   see   isadora   was   a   girl   without   a   happy   ending,   struggling   to   reach   the   top   of   success   and   love   ━   to   reach   the   point   of   happiness   she   hadn’t   felt   for   the   majority   of   her   life,   to   be   knocked   down   and   start   from   the   beginning.   there   was   a   point   in   her   life   she   believed   she   was   the   background   character   to   everyone’s   story,   relevant   for   a   bit   and   quickly   irrelevant   and   forgotten   once   it   reached   the   next   chapter.   noah   was   a   breath   of   fresh   air,   finding   home   in   a   person   who   opened   up   his   life   to   her   and   offered   her   the   warmth   of   family   that   she   cried   herself   to   sleep   begging   to   have   someone   care.   it   wasn’t   about   a   love   being   lost,   of   unrequited   feelings   and   not   being   worthy   of   receiving   the   same   love   back   ━   it’s   the   pride   she   felt   when   she   told   anyone   she   was   an   HONORARY   HWANG,   to   understand   what   it’s   like   to   have   younger   sisters   in   the   form   of   aria   and   nina,   and   what   it’s   like   to   have   someone   feel   like   a   warm   bed   on   a   sunday   morning   when   the   snow   is   falling,   coldness   seeping   through   the   windows,   but   you   know   that   you   have   nowhere   else   to   be   except   right   there   ━   the  form   taking   place   in   noah.   isadora   has   sat   in   her   room   multiple   nights,   glossy   eyes   staring   at   numerous   pictures   of   the   four   of   them   and   wonders   if   she’ll   become   their   background   character   too.

                              isadora   hadn’t   known   friendship,   caught   off   guard   by   a   silly   boy   trying   to   befriend   her   in   the   east   library   with   a   personality   so   bright   and   jokes   so   witty,   it   wasn’t   hard   for   isadora   to   be   captivated.   maybe   she   always   was   a   little   in   love   with   noah   hwang,   the   emotion   building   up   for   the   months   together   until   it   swelled   in   her   chest   and   she   had   nothing   else   to   do   besides   accept   her   fate.   she   was   blind   to   it   at   first,   caught   up   in   the   crushes   who   let   her   down   while   finding   her   way   back   to   him   to   help   mend   a   heart   that   was   never   really   broken   for   others.   there   was   a   reason   her   heart   would   find   a   target   to   please   her   desires   only   to   take   twenty-four   hours   to   move   on   from   them   like   her   feelings   never   existed   ━   her   heart   always   belonged   to   noah.   he   hadn’t   mended   her   heart   from   others,   he   was   her   heart.

                              she’s   learned   that   promises   mean   nothing.   a   person   can   promise   to   the   moon   and   around   the   whole   galaxy,   but   still   have   their   fingers   crossed   behind   their   back,   only   the   illusion   of   a   word   kept   while   the   other   assume   it’s   being   held   in   steady   heads.   she   still   waits   nervously,   however,   for   him   to   wrap   his   pinky   around   hers   like   they   used   to,   give   her   false   hope   that   her   little   action   wasn’t   so   meaningless.   she   holds   her   pinky   up   like   it’s   a   written   agreement   between   her   and   someone   else,   her   insecurity   held   in   that   one   action   alone   because   deep   down   she   knows   no   one   will   keep   their   word   for   her.   it’s   a   façade   for   herself,   that   it   could   be   a   little   bit   of   confirmation   to   have   her   think   optimistically.   after   a   while   of   being   best   friends   though,   isadora   realized   she  didn’t  need   to   ask   for   any   sort   of   promises,   noah   becoming   one   of   the   only   people   she   trusted   and   there   was   times   she   didn’t   have   to   say   anything   at   all   ━   he   understood   her   in   a   way   left   her   cared   for.   it’s   tear   stained   cheeks   hiding   into   noah’s   neck   on   the   second   night   of   her   trip   to   iceland,   opening   up   to   someone   about   her   past   for   the   first   time   and   there’s   never   a   time   a   whispered   ‘𝒊'𝒗𝒆   𝒈𝒐𝒕   𝒚𝒐𝒖’   doesn’t   ring   in   her   heart.   “my   definition   of   a   good   time…”   she   pauses,   pretends   to   ponder   her   reply   despite   knowing   the   answer   is   deserving   of   an   eye   roll.   “when   i   get   a   perfect   score  in   karaoke   and   declared   a   winner   for   the   rest   of   the   night.”   her   head   tilts   the   same   way   noah’s   did,   staring   at   him   for   a   couple   seconds   before   it   starts   to   process   what   he’s   referring   to   exactly.   isadora   lacked  a   brain   to   mouth   filter,   going   a   hundred   miles   per   hour   and   not   realizing   the   words   she   say   can   be   twisted   in   another   way.   “your  promise   of   a   good   time   is   whose   bed   i’d  prefer   to   be   in?”   she   blinks   at   him,   unable   to   say   what   she   really   wants   to   say   ━   𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒   𝑡𝘩𝑒   𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦   𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛   𝑖   𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡   𝑡𝑜   𝑔𝑜   𝘩𝑜𝑚𝑒   𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩;   𝑖   𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡   𝑡𝑜   𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑒   𝑢𝑝   𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩   𝑦𝑜𝑢   𝑖𝑛   𝑚𝑦   𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑠,   𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑒   𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑   𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡   𝑡𝘩𝑒   𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒   𝑜𝑓   𝑚𝑦   𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑘   𝑤𝘩𝑖𝑙𝑒   𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟   𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩   𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠   𝑚𝑦   𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛.   it’s   not   unrealistic,   though   it   would   no   longer  mean   two   best   friends   who   are   each   other’s   halves   of   a   whole.   it   means   when   isadora   holds   on   to   him   a   little   tighter,   whine   escaping   passed   parted   lips   so   he   doesn’t   leave   her   side   for   the   morning,   it’s   because   she’s   in   love   with   him.   it   means   when   isadora   presses   her   lips   against   his   forehead   while   his   eyes   slowly   blink   and   register   that   he   fell   asleep   in   her   room   and   lets   the   touch   linger,   it’s   because   she’s   in   love   with   him.   isadora   wants   to   be   selfish   with   noah,   wants   to   have   everything   with   him.   it’s   too   out   of   reach.   “are   you   flirting   with   me?   oh,   you’re  flirting   with   me   so   hard.   you   better   be   careful   because   i’ve   been   told   i’m   a   good   flirt   ━   you’ll   have   red   cheeks   for   weeks,   hwang.”   it’s   normalcy,   it’s   them,   but   she   wants   so   much   more.

                              isadora   stepped   into   the   society   hoping   to   find   a   sense   of   belonging,   to   search   for   the   feeling   of   importance   within   someone   else.   she   did   her   best   to   follow   the   rules,   stay   out   of   the   way   as   much   as   possible   so   she   can   be   accepted   and   never   fall   into   trouble.   while   she   wasn’t   able   to   talk   about   the   society   to   anyone   besides   the   other   prodigies   and   it’s   existing   members,   she   eventually   found   a   sense   of   happiness   being   a   part   of   something.   the   feeling   no   longer   shines   as   brightly   anymore,   a   dim   light   in   comparison   to   what   it   once   was.   she’s   in   a   random   hallway   with   her  BEST  FRIEND,   a   conversation   they  shouldn’t   be   having   so   out   in   the   open   for   others   to   see,   and   she’s   willing   to   throw   everything   the   society   gave   her   away   for   noah.   it’s   an   impulsive   decision   every   time   they’re   together,   a   two   way   confession   lingering   between   them.   isadora   attempts   to   school   her   features   the   best   she   can   when   he   pulls   her   hand   away   from   his   face,   though   she’s   curling   her   fingers   instantly   into   his   when   he   doesn’t   let   go.   she   walks   on   eggshells,   afraid   that   any   affection   she   wants   to   show   might   be   too   much   ━   a   squeeze   of   his   hand   in   hers,   bringing   her   other   hand   up   to   his   cheek   again   stubbornly.   his   '𝐢   𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭   𝐢𝐭’   doesn’t   take   away   from   the   fact   he’s   walking   away   from   her,   bringing   her   back   to   the   night   they   kissed   and   he   left   without   a   glance   back.   it   takes   a   moment   for   isadora   to   spin   around,   almost   closing   her   eyes   because   she   believes   he’ll   be   gone   ━   he’s   still   there.  

                              his   confession   doesn’t  relieve   her   of   her   pain,   doesn’t   excite   her   the   way   it   did   the   first   time   it   was   said.   there’s   a   but   in   his   sentence   somewhere,   a   comma   where   a   period   would’ve   been   if   she   was   the   kind   of   girl  people   fell   for,   if   she   was   the   kind   of   girl   people   fell   for   and   wanted.   it’s   a   hard   pill   to   swallow,   isadora   doing   her   best   to   hold   her   chin   up   high   despite   his   back   facing   her.   it   doesn’t   feel   quite   like   rejection,   but   it’s   also   not   the   two   riding   off   into   the   sunset   either.   “you   can’t   ━   don’t   want   to   because   the   last   thing   you   want   is   to   actually   be   with   me   or━”   she   pauses,   stepping   over   to   him   and   resting   her   head   against   his   shoulder.   it’s   a   sober   mistake   she’s   about   to   make,   to   speak   so   freely   without   the   excuse   of   alcohol   tainting   her   every   action.   “or   is   this   a   society  thing?”   she’s   selfish   with   her   thoughts,   the   possibility   of   being   with   noah   makes   her   heart   flutter   and   decide   what   risk   is   worth   it   or   not.   she   hadn’t   thought   about   his   risk,   about   what   he   had   to   lose   by   breaking   the   rules   and   being   caught.   isadora   wants   nothing   more   than   to   protect   noah,   she   can’t   do   that   when   she’s   trying   to   drag   him   into   the   fire.   “i   would   never   put   you   at   risk   of   anything   ━   wouldn’t  allow   myself   to   make   you   lose   something   or   to   leave   you   hurt   in   any   way.   i   ━   i   wouldn’t   ever   make   you   risk   something   for   me,   i   would   never   allow   you   to   do   it   either.”   bottom   lip   caught   between   her   teeth,   she   hadn’t   said   the   three   words   that   have   been   haunting   her   since   it   tumbled   out   of   her   mouth   and   noah   walked   away.   it’s   confliction   on   what   to   feel;   if   doesn’t   want   her   or   if   putting   themselves   at   risk   of   the   society   finding   out   wasn’t   worth   it.   she   thinks   she’s   afraid   of   either   answer   she’d   receive.   “i’ve   been  in   love   with   you   for   so   long,   can’t   even   remember   when   i   fell.   i   think   i’ve   been   falling   since   day   one.   i’ve   wanted   this   for   a   while   ━   but   it   has   to   be   mutual,   yeah?   and   that’s   ━   it’s   okay.”   it’s   not   and   it   stings.   “because   either   way,   i   have   to   let   you   go,   right?”   ɪғ   ʏᴏᴜ   ʟᴏᴠᴇ   sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ﹐   sᴇᴛ   ᴛʜᴇᴍ   ғʀᴇᴇ.    and   that’s   where   it   ends   for   isadora.   she’s   not   the   kind   of   girl  people   come   back   to.

               ❪ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ * ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ isadora   seong   has   always   reminded   him   of   a   great   hero,             the   kind   to   be   read   about   from   the   classic   greek   myths.   noah   knows   how   the   world   views   her,   but   he   has   always   known   that   she   was   so   much   more.   there   is   undeniable   strength   in   her   softness   and   courage   in   her   kindness ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ he   has   observed,   untouched,   unbothered,   as   the   world   has   seen   a   blanket   of   pink   and   taken   it   for   weakness.   they   have   seen   a   girl   who   signs   her   letters   with   hand   drawn   hearts   and   believes   in   the   greatest   of   romances,   he   has   seen   them   all   take   her   for   something   she   is   so   much   more   than.   he   has   always   known   she   is   more   than   what   the   world   has   assigned   her,   isadora   has   more   strength   than   anyone   in   noah   has   ever   met   because   the   world   has   been   nothing   but   cruel   to   her   and   she   has   CHOSEN   to   be   good.   he   has   turned   into   his   demons,   cried   to   them   for   comfort   and   justification   over   the   ways   his   touch   has   caused   ruination   but   she   has   always   pulled   out   the   sun.   she   is   perseus   facing   the   storm   with   nothing   but   herself   and   her   gall   in   front   of   poseidon’s   worst   beast.         yes,   she   is   the   sweet,   cascading   breeze   of   a   perfect   summer   evening   and   she   has   always   danced   in   the   storm   instead   of   finding   shelter,   but   she   is   so   much   of   a   hero   that   it   sometimes   blinds   him.   she   is   both   thanatos   and   hebe,   death   and   life   wrapped   up   in   a   visage   of   divine   humanity   and   so   maybe   the   world   has   only   ever   seen   her   as   a   background   character,   but   in   whatever   story   is   lain   out   before   him,   she’s   the   most   important   one.

              and   again,   he   has   to   ask   himself   if   he’s   ever   stood   a   chance   against   her.   her   laugh   has   struck   itself   into   his   memory   and   every   single   word   that   she   has   written   onto   paper   has   appeared   onto   his   skin   in   black   ink   he   never   wants   to   wash   off.   he   has   only   ever   known   the   displeasure   of   a   shrinking   pattern ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ he   has   gone   from   five   to   four,   from   four   to   three ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ and   he   has   never   even   considered   the   possibility   that   it   could   ever   expand.   but,   like   the   way   he’s   always   known   her   to   be   so   much   more   than   she   gives   herself   credit   for,   there’s   a   voice   that   reminds   him   he   might’ve   always   known   that   she’s   always   given   him   the   possibility   that   three   can   be   four   again.

              because   there’s   a   list   of   things   that   he’s   always   known   about   isadora.   ONE,   that   she’s   got   the   strength   of   a   thousand   great   heroes.   TWO,   that   maybe   she’s   always   been   the   possibility   of   four.   and   THREE,   that   whatever   flies   around   between   them   is   bigger   than   electricity.   for   maybe   their   entire   friendship      (      would   he   call   it   that?      ),   he   has   watched   it   build   up   to   thunder   and   rain,   he   has   collected   the   fresh   dew   drops   of   the   morning   atop   his   fingertips   and   tasted   it   on   his   tongue   –   yeah,   he   knows.   whatever   their   story   is   built   from,   it’s   more   than   secret   love   letters   passed   through   the   patterns   she   traces   onto   his   skin   and   longing   gazes   from   best   friends   who   still   lock   pinkies.   no,   their   story   is   the   tireless   pleas   of   sailors   at   sea   during   a   hurricane   and   the   smell   of   rain   after   an   endless   blaze.   yes,   he   realizes   this   in   a   dim,   narrow   hallway   while   his   gaze   can’t   be   ripped   away   from   the   girl   right   in   from;   there   are   a   list   of   things   he   knows,   a   list   of   things   that   are   DEFINITIVE   and   he   has   never   been   the   kind   to   fight   against   fate.   how   can   he,   when   his   fate   is   staring   him   right   in   the   eye?   perhaps   the   most   irrevocable   thing   he   realizes   tonight,   is   how   he   yearns   for   her   –   the   way   he   does   lights   a   flame   so   deeply   within   him   that   he   can   taste   the   coal   on   his   tongue.   god,   maybe   he’d   steal   every   star   in   the   sky   for   her.   she   laughs   and   oh,   he   is   in   love   with   her   –   that   is   undeniable.

              how   evident   it   is,   in   the   way   his   eyes   crinkle   at   her   reply   to   him.   his   heart   seems   to   skip   a   beat,   tripping   over   itself   when   her   features   shift   and   she   realizes   that   he   is   indeed   flirting   with   her.   ⠀      ❝         adore,   i’m   kind   of   always   flirting   with   you.         ❞   ⠀      he   tells   her   shamelessly   –   it’s   a   confession   he   knows   he’s   uttered   before,   whispering   to   her   when   she   doesn’t   get   his   innuendo   or   when   his   joke   just   flies   over   her   head.   he’s   always   masked   it   under   a   guise   of   teasing   –   a   joke   that   he’s   throwing   her   way   because   of   FRIENDSHIP.   he   is   only   enamored   by   her,   watching   her   head   tip   back   with   a   smile   only   to   be   matched   with   one   of   his   own.   what   a   fool   he   is   to   have   ever   asked   if   it   was   ever   just   friendship   he   shared   with   her.   it   has   always   been ⠀ ⠀    ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀    ⠀ 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒.

              he   should’ve   handed   her   a   warning,   though,   before   he   had   made   the   first   move.   there   is   something   within   him   that   is   coded   wrongly,   a   bug   planted   in   by   a   god   who   laughs   at   him;   a   curse   that   has   fallen   so   heavily   upon   his   shoulders   that   he’ll   never   be   able   to   shrug   it   off.   he   knows   it,   everyone   who’s   landed   in   his   path   knows   it.   GINEVRA,   whose   eyes   have   witnessed   the   lowest   of   him,   whose   lips   have   tasted   his   blood   that   was   brought   out   as   sacrifice.   JOSIE,   who   sat   without   judgement   as   he   whispered   confession   to   stain   her   skin   only   for   him   to   take   a   piece   of   her   soul   without   intent   to   return.   there   is   something   in   him   that   stains   like   the   fog   rolling   down   the   mountains,   it   is   made   from   acid   and   poison,   and   not   even   she   is   immune   to   it.   she   leans   against   his   back,   her   head   rests   between   his   shoulder   blades   and   he   has   never   felt   more   complete   in   his   life,   but   his   heart   races.   it   isn’t   the   sort   of   heartbeat   built   from   sweaty   palms   and   butterflies   in   his   stomach,   it’s   the   kind   that   arrives   right   before   the   darkness   of   night   takes   over.   the   kind   that   makes   his   blood   run   cold   and   sends   a   chill   up   his   spine ⠀ ⠀      ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀      ⠀ he   is   so   in   love   with   her   that   he   takes   her   hand   within   his   and   squeezes,   because   there   is   nothing   more   TERRIFYING   than   facing   someone   he’s   so   sure   he’ll   just   lose   in   the   end.   noah’s   head   bows,   freshly   dyed   strands   of   blonde   curl   into   his   eyes   as   she   lays   it   all   out   on   him.   her   words   hang   in   the   air   around   them,   he   swears   he   can   pluck   them   out   with   his   fingers   and   hold   them   in   his   hands         (         he   almost   wants   to   place   them   back   in   her   lips,   he   longs   for   her   to   swallow   her   words   and   take   back   her   confession   –   there   is   irreversible   sin   in   loving   him.   he   is   no   hero,   no   love   interest   for   her   to   curl   into   at   the   end   of   the   night,   no,   he   has   always   been   a   beast,   and   he   has   always   brought   everyone   down   with   him         ).   noah   inhales   and   he   turns   on   his   heel,   he   breaks   whatever   hold   she   has   on   him   to   embrace   her   instead.   his   hands   land   on   either   side   of   her   face,   his   palms   on   her   neck,   his   thumbs   brush   along   her   jaw   gently   and   he   intends   to   tell   her   to   let   him   go.   his   lips   part   at   the   words   are   just   at   the   tip   of   his   tongue,   they   are   just   barely   there,   he   can   hear   them   echoing   in   his   ears,   an   angel   on   his   shoulder   encouraging   him   to   confess,      “      let   me   go,   let   me   go.   you   deserve   more,   you   are   worth   so   much   more   and   it   would   anchor   you   to   remain   in   love   with   me.      ”    –   but,   he   can’t.

              all   it   takes   is   one   look.   his   eyes   meet   hers   and   he   swears   that   she   has   pulled   every   star   from   every   constellation   and   trapped   them   in   her   eyes,   noah   leans   in ⠀ ⠀         ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀         ⠀ and   he   shuts   his   eyes   in   order   to   avoid   being   scorched   by   perfect   godhood ⠀ ⠀         ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀         ⠀ and   against   every   logical   thought   screaming   profanities   in   his   mind ⠀ ⠀         ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀         ⠀ noah   kisses   her.   he   presses   his   lips   against   hers,   his   hold   on   her   tightening   as   all   the   tension   relieves.   as   if   it’s   a   coil   that’s   been   wound   up   inside   of   his   core,   like   all   of   his   muscles   have   been   tensing   up   for   a   few   minutes   too   long;   it   releases   as   soon   as   their   lips   meet   and   he   is   thrown   into   carelessness   once   more.   but,   oh,   kissing   her   is   like   a   breath   of   fresh   air.   all   this   time,   he’s   been   wandering   around   the   bottom   of   the   lake,   taking   every   step   of   his   sluggishly   until   now ⠀ ⠀         ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀         ⠀ and   it’s   like   he’s   gotten   a   fast   track   to   the   surface.   he’s   finally   broken   through,   touching   her,   kissing   her,   having   her,   holding   her;   noah   kisses   isadora   roughly,   because   he   doesn’t   know   if   he’ll   ever   get   to   do   it   again.   his   hands   fall   from   her   face   to   her   waist   and   he   turns   her   so   he   traps   her   against   the   wall.   what   a   foolish   move,   logic   reasons ⠀ ⠀         ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀         ⠀ it’s   what   you’ve   always   wanted,   croons   love.   his   mouth   slants   against   hers   and   his   hands   run   up   her   back,   he   lets   his   fingers   dig   into   her   hair,   a   fistful   at   the   nape   of   her   neck   before   he   pulls   away.   ⠀      ❝         give   me   up,         ❞   ⠀      he   tells   her,   forehead   against   hers,   his   eyes   are   squeezed   shut.   ⠀      ❝         just   let   me   go,   please.         ❞⠀    

[oldnorths]

𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐     ﹕      isadvra​

                              a   part   of   her   wonders   ━   and   she   hates   herself   for   it   ━   when   he’ll   start   pulling   away   again,   slowly   becoming   accustomed   to   him   waking   away   while   her   entire   being   is   left   empty.   there’s   anxiousness   running   through   her   veins   with   the   urgency   to   keep   him   near,   to   take   up   as   much   of   his   time   as   possible   before   she   has   to   let   him   go   again.   she   wants   to   forget   about   the   world   around   them   to   embrace   the   moment   they’re   sharing   now,   live   on   a   small   high   of   him   deciding   to   spend   his   time   with   her   rather   than   the   party   currently   taking   place.   she   was   never   afraid   of   losing   him,   used   to   the   way   she   would   hear   his   gentle   voice   through   her   phone’s   speaker   every   single   day   and   feel   the   warmth   he   gave   off   while   pressed   to   his   side,   cheek   squished   against   his   arm   as   she   begged   him   to   spend   time   with   her   instead   of   doing   his   assignment.   she   watched   him   leave   the   manor   with   slight   sadness,   though   it   was   uplifted   when   she   remembered   she   would   see   him   again   ━   the   two   would   always   come   back   to   each   other.   it’s   different   now,   however.   when   noah   walks   away,   isadora   holds   her   breath   in   hopes   he   turns   around   and   gives   her   any   kind   of   sign   they’re   not   finished,   their   chapter   hasn’t   ended   and   will   turn   into   novels   and   many   sequels.   the   sadness   no   longer   washes   away   the   way   it   used   to   because   they’re   not   the   same   people   they   once   was   weeks   ago.   isadora   no   longer   had   the   comfort   of   knowing   noah   was   a   permanent   part   of   her   life   ━   the   one   who   took   up   so   much   space   without   even   trying.

                              her   lips   part   slightly,   like   there’s   a   million   things   she   wants   to   say,   but   can’t   bring   her   head   up   to   the   surface   to   find   them.   her   gaze   follows   noah’s   hand   briefly,   slightly   widened   eyes   studying   his   face   instead,   almost   breathlessly   watching   the   way   his   handsome   features   shift   as   he   tucks   the   same   loose   strand   behind   her   ear   again.   her   cheeks   heat   up   again,   flushing   at   the   same   time   over   a   movement   that   seemed   so   tiny   yet   tender   ━   she   feels   shy   all   of   a   sudden.   it   wasn’t   out   of   the   ordinary   for   gentle   touches   to   be   exchanged   between   them;   dainty   fingers   threading   through   his   hair   when   she   notices   he’s   slowly   falling   asleep,   his   thumb   across   her   cheek   after   she   shows   up   on   his   doorstep   ━   bottom   lip   poking   out   while   venting   about   her   overall   bad   day,   foreheads   softly   knocking   against   each   other   as   bright   laughter   fills   the   room   and   they   make   promises   through   their   fits   of   giggles,   they’ve   always   been   so   natural   together.   isadora   takes   in   a   deep   breath,   grabbing   on   that   normalcy   noah   is   gifting   her   with   and   holding   on   to   it   as   tightly   as   she   can.   “you’re   gonna   take   me   to   a   real   party,   huh?”   while   he   steps   back,   she   steps   forward.   it’s   not   something   she   thinks   about,   habit   to   always   stay   close   to   him.   “am   i   going   to   have   fun   at   this   party?   will   you   show   me   a   good   time?”   she   raises   an   eyebrow   to   tease   him,   feeling   excitement   that   there’s   hope.   “i’m   holding   you   to   that   then.”   she   doesn’t   hesitate   to   hold   her   pinky   out   toward   him,   though   there’s   regret   immediately   weighing   on   her.   she   ignores   it   in   favor   of   wiggling   it,   maybe   this   was   the   promise   he’d   keep   this   time.   “you   have   to   promise   me   you’ll   take   me   to   a   real   party.   make   my   high   school   self’s   dreams   come   true.”

                              there’s   a   time   and   place   for   everything   ━   a   lie   that   isadora   fed   herself   so   many   times   to   avoid   the   inevitable   truth;   an   ask   of   forgiveness   that   somehow   still   made   her   feel   like   she   wasn’t   good   enough,   a   heartbreak   that   she   saw   coming   from   miles   away,   but   chose   to   put   it   off   until   it   was   displayed   right   in   front   of   her.   it   was   an   excuse   for   avoidance   while   the   hope   of   possibility   still   lingered   around.   it   put   her   mind   at   ease   and   made   it   work   over   time   with   assumptions   and   her   own   conclusions.   she   realized   too   late   that   there   won’t   ever   be   a   right   time   or   a   right   place   for   anything,   even   with   the   effort   behind   it   to   make   it   happen.   no   one   wanted   to   face   a   harsh   reality,   there   was   no   perfect   storm   to   get   caught   in   to   face   one’s   fears.   there   was   never   going   to   be   a   right   time   for   noah   and   isadora   to   finally   speak   to   each   other   about   what   happened   so   many   nights   ago,   the   press   of   his   lips   against   hers   still   fresh   in   her   mind   like   the   memory   happened   yesterday.   she   accepted   noah’s   promise   of   later,   clung   to   it   with   all   her   might   and   believing   his   words   the   way   she   always   had.   it   had   her   making   excuses   for   their   situation,   that   any   time   they   bumped   into   each   other   wasn’t   the   time   or   place   to   have   a   serious   discussion.   isadora   thinks   one   of   her   chances   was   at   the   pool,   helplessly   watching   the   way   he   ached   without   his   sisters   yet   feeling   like   she   was   on   the   outside   looking   in   with   the   distance   between   them.   however,   she   knows   deep   down   there   can   be   a   wrong   time.   she   considers   it   being   the   wrong   time   now   ━   noah   without   his   sisters   and   a   whole   society   of   people   just   a   wall   away   from   them   ringing   in   the   new   year   the   way   isadora   hadn’t   wanted   herself.   maybe   one   day   she’ll   be   brave   enough   to   take   charge,   pull   him   aside   and   demand   answers   from   him.   she   no   longer   is   looking   for   the   reassurance   that   feelings   are   mutual,   she’s   desperately   seeking   the   reassurance   she   won’t   lose   him.   it’s   not   hard   to   be   focused   when   noah   speaks,   easily   hanging   off   every   word   he   tells   her   ━   even   the   times   when   he   nudged   her   for   not   paying   attention.   his   voice   captivates   her,   he   interests   her   more   than   any   person   or   story   could.   when   he   bows   his   head,   isadora   is   instantly   bending   forward   and   tilting   her   head   to   get   a   look   at   him,   a   smirk   on   her   face   as   she   is   seconds   away   from   teasing   him.   “you’re   gonna   have   to   refresh   my   memory.   don’t   make   me   guess   either.   it’ll   be   painful   for   both   of   us.”   there   is   no   supposed   right   time   to   tell   someone   you’re   in   love   with   them,   though   isadora   starts   to   believe   there’s   always   a   good   time   to   tell   someone   you’re   in   love   with   them.   she   stands   up   straight,   breath   caught   in   her   through   while   she   studies   him,   blinks   at   him   to   make   sure   she   wasn’t   dreaming.   

                              “noah…”   she   speaks   out   gently,   hand   reaching   out   without   a   second   thought   to   cup   his   chin   in   her   hand   in   attempts   to   get   him   to   look   at   her.   “do   you   mean   it?   do   you   mean   what   you   said?”   her   voice   trembles   slightly,   her   hand   not   dropping   from   his   face   as   she   steps   a   bit   further   into   his   space.   her   heart   pounds   in   her   chest,   surely   loud   enough   for   the   rest   of   the   society   to   hear   over   the   loud   music,   but   she’s   willing   to   take   the   risk   if   their   moment   had   finally   come.   “do   you   really   love   me,   noah?”   please,   please,   say   that   you’re   in   love   with   me   too.   please,   please,   say   you   want   to   stay   by   my   side.

               ❪ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ * ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ for   as   long   as   he   can   remember,   he   has   always   wanted   love.   it   is   the   thing   that   is   most   sought   out   by   him,   a   garnet   shade   of   passion,   a   gentle   pink   wave   melting   into   sky   blue   as   day   turns   to   night;   he   has   always   reached   out   for   it   and   let   himself   fall   head   first   into   it.   noah   has   spent   his   entire   life   following   around   a   half   -   absent   father   who   looked   for   his   own   true   love   in   every   place   they   went,   did   noah   ever   have   control   over   who   he   turned   out   to   be?   it   is   an   emotion   he   has   used   often   to   hurt   everyone   around   him,   but   it   is   the   emotion   he   is   the   most   fond   of.   where   he   has   always   turned   his   back   on   grief   and   discomfort,   where   he   has   fought   with   anger   and   hatred,   noah   has   always   held   on   so   tightly   to   love. ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ he   loves   love,   and   all   that   comes   with   it. ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ there   is   nothing   that   can   compare,   he   is   convinced   of   this,   it   is   why   he   knows   his   nature   and   still   turns   his   cheek   when   confronted   with   it.   it   is   the   sole   reason   he’ll   hold   back   the   storm   with   a   plastic   film   and   lie   in   bed   with   someone,   watching   them   sleep   into   the   latest   hours   of   the   night.   it   is   why   he   looks   at   isadora   as   if   her   hands   were   the   ones   that   hung   up   all   the   stars   in   the   sky   and   it   is   why   he   can   still   smell   her   perfume   on   his   clothes,   smell   her   shampoo   on   his   pillowcase,   taste   her   lipgloss   when   he   swipes   his   tongue   over   his   lips.   he   has   reduced   her   love   to   friendship   and   he   knows   it’s   because   he   has   been   that   afraid   of   losing   her   to   love   the   same   way   he   has   lost   everyone   else   to   it.

               but,   at   what   point   does   friendship   blur   into   romance?   has   it   always   been   that   way?   catching   her   eye   over   the   edge   of   his   laptop,   twirling   her   around   in   the   icelandic   rain,   pushing   her   hair   out   of   her   face   while   she   snores   next   to   him   in   bed;   has   it   ever   been   just   friendship   between   them?   perhaps   not,   he’s   gotten   good   at   seeing   only   what   he   wants   to   see   when   glancing   at   a   framed   piece   of   art.   color   him   distraught,   however,   when   he   studies   their   canvas   and   he   can’t   make   anything   out.   there   is   a   gash   in   the   art,   gaping,   wide,   jagged   edges   –   his   own   work,   he   can   recognize   it   anywhere.   pretending,   apparently,   does   him   no   good,   either.

               isadora   holds   out   her   pinky   to   him,   expectant   for   him   to   return   it   at   their   proposal.   there   is   a   flash   of   insecurity   that   floods   through   him   when   he   links   pinkies   with   her ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ the   last   time   he   did   this,   he   failed   to   pull   through,   he   hasn’t   forgotten,   he   doubts   she   has   either.   but,   she   looks   at   him   like   that.   if   he   believes   she   has   hung   the   stars,   she   believes   he   has   roped   the   moon   and   for   this   moment   only,   noah   supposes   it   is   enough.   it   has   to   be,   for   whatever   they   are,   whatever   limbo   they   have   found   themselves   trapped   in.   they   have   always   worked   together,   haven’t   they?   nyx   and   artemis,   holding   hands   in   a   hidden   grotto   as   the   rest   of   their   pantheon   slumbers   during   the   darkness   of   the   night;   noah   and   isadora,   hiding   away   from   a   party   so   they   can   catch   up,   as   if   they   haven’t   spent   all   day   talking   to   each   other   anyway.   for   this   moment   only,   he   lets   things   be   normal.   whatever   doubt   and   insecurity   worms   its   way   into   him,   he   pushes   it   out   with   the   tide   and   digs   his   toes   into   the   sand,   firmly.   wherever   they   are,   suspended   in   time,   is   where   he   wants   to   stay   (   he’d   stay   anywhere   with   her,   as   long   as   they   were   OKAY   ).   ⠀      ❝         it   depends   on   your   definition   of   a   good   time,   is,         ❞   ⠀      he   jokes   back   with   a   tilt   of   his   head,   a   lift   of   his   lips.   ⠀      ❝         my   promise   of   a   good   time   depends   on   whose   bed   you   prefer   ending   your   night   in.            ❞   ⠀      it   flies   past   his   lips   as   if   they’re   just   friends   again   (   oh,   the   edges   of   the   gash   grow   just   a   little   bigger   at   his   teasing   –   it   doesn’t   make   anything   better   ),   as   if   he   can   joke   around   about   taking   her   home   at   the   end   of   the   night.   he   usually   does,   anyway,   but   she’s   always   had   a   place   in   his   bed,   in   his   sheets,   in   his   clothes ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ – ⠀ ⠀   ⠀ but   their   goodnight   kisses   have   always   been   chaste.   he   tucks   her   in   with   a   kiss   on   the   forehead,   he   sends   her   to   bed   as   his   lips   brush   her   temple,   he   presses   a   kiss   to   the   back   of   her   palm   while   she   pushes   him   out   of   her   space.   maybe   his   words   have   a   different   meaning   now,   or   maybe   he’s   struck,   under   the   guise   of   normalcy   with   her.

               and   still,   he   leans   into   her   touch                      ,   not   the   way   a   best   friend   should.   his   head   tilts   into   her   palm,   his   hand   comes   up   to   cup   hers   and   with   a   thumb   on   her   wrist   he   can   feel   her   pulse                      –                      a   mile   a   minute.   his   tongue   brushes   over   his   bottom   lip   and   he   pulls   her   hand   away   from   his   face,   gently   holding   on   as   their   hands   connect   between   them.   noah   should   look   around   before   he   spills   everything   to   her,   check   to   make   sure   none   of   their   peers   are   listening   in   to   what   could   possibly   be   another   great   mistake   of   his.   but   he   is   enamored   by   her,   noah   looks   at   her   and   oh,   he   swears   it,   𝒉𝒆   𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒔   𝒇𝒐𝒓   𝒉𝒆𝒓.   his   love   for   her   envelops   his   chest,   it   spreads   from   his   heart   into   the   tips   of   his   fingers,   it   dances   on   his   tongue   and   it   leaves   him   breathless.   he   is   far   from   deserving   her   love   in   return,   he   knows   this,   but   he   has   fallen   so   deeply   into   the   emotion   he   craves   most   that   it   feels   like   it’ll   eat   him   up   alive.   he   has   felt   love   before,   he   has   looked   at   another   soul   and   wished   on   every   star   to   keep   them   in   his   life   but   he   has   never   let   himself   be   consumed   by   it.   isadora   asks   whether   he   means   it,   whether   he   is   truthful   in   his   words   and   there   is   nothing   more   that   he   wants   to   do   than   let   her   know.   he’d   scream   it   from   the   mountaintops   and   bear   his   soul   to   thanatos,   produce   a   golden   arrow   of   eros   and   defeat   venus   herself   to   let   her   know   just   how   much   he   means   it.   ⠀      ❝         yeah,   i   mean   it.         ❞   ⠀      he   pulls   their   fingers   apart,   dropping   his   hand   by   his   side.   noah   sidesteps,   walks   away   from   her   to   the   other   edge   of   the   hallway                      –                      he   knocks   the   wall   with   his   knuckles,   uncurls   his   fingers   (   they   long   to   touch   something   else,   to   run   through   someone’s   hair   ).   ⠀      ❝         i   love   you,                      –                      i’m   in   love   with   you.         ❞   ⠀      he   doesn’t   turn   to   face   her,   he   confesses   to   a   blank   wall   –   it’s   easier   than   facing   her   as   he   threatens   another   heartbreak.   ⠀      ❝         you   understand   why   i   can’t?   why   i   don’t   want   to?         ❞   ⠀      he   looks   over   his   shoulder   at   her   with   his   eyebrows   raised.   he   has   shut   himself   off   from   her   for   a   while,   but   he   desperately   wishes   for   her   to   enter   his   thoughts   again.   he   can’t   –   because   the   society   won’t   allow   them,   because   he’s   already   been   tied   to   a   statue,   because   one   of   isadora’s   peers   already   got   a   slap   on   the   wrist.   he   doesn’t   want   to   –   because   he’s   already   lost   her,   he   can’t   lose   her   anymore,   because   he’s   made   of   ruination   and   built   to   fight   the   gods,   because   his   list   goes   on   and   on   and   he   has   always   known   she   was   meant   for   better.   it   isn’t   her   he   doesn’t   want,   it’s   all   the   fear   and   insecurity   that   comes   with   having   her;   he   has   never   forgiven   himself   easily,   anyway.