pairing: 90s!noel ♥ reader
warnings: substance abuse, anxiety, panic attack, swearing
Noel has always said that cocaine makes him a better version of himself.
But you know that it’s not true - you’ve seen real Noel many times before. Morning Noel, warm to touch, grumpy maybe, murmuring something about sleeping another ten minutes, like a little boy.
Soft, lovely Noel, like when he’s back from tour and surprises you with a supermarket flowers (because there’s no flower shop on the way home, but he can’t leave you without a lovely bouquet), a real giver who would give you the whole world if it’s possible.
Smart Noel, when he talks to you about the book he read or tells you about something that he’s seen while traveling.
Silly Noel, when he asks you how long he needs to boil the eggs, because he really has no idea.
Upset Noel - sad eyes, clingy, talking quiet and slow.
But this was just another kind of person. Of course, it seems like he is feeling better after a big, big white line. Bigger than it should be. All the thoughts that usually going through his brain are gone. Pure, clean mind.
His self esteem is getting high with him. He frequently acts douchey but now he really thinks much of himself.
And he’s being just too... too evil... too poisonous. Like his one word can kill you.
So eventually you stopped going out with him and the band. You loved the guys and they loved you, but it was just too much to handle.
And Noel did more and more, coming home more and more wasted. Almost every fucking day. High and drunk, like he has nine lives. And then he was going to bed, falling right in the middle, with his clothes on, immediately asleep, so you have to sleep on the couch.
You wake up and it’s already past noon. You don’t know what time is it - there’s no clock in your living room. So you lay there for some time and listen to the birds crippling outside, trying to hear if Noel is awake. After a while you get up, to make two cups of coffee. Then you go to the shower, thinking that Noel must’ve been awake by the time you come back.
But he’s not. You even thought that he left already - god knows what time is it. Your sight catches Noel’s Rollex, laying on the table. It’s almost three pm.
You slowly go towards your bedroom, open the door, just to see Noel laying in bed. And you didn’t notice anything weird, until you heard the most terrible sound in the world. You saw that Noel’s shoulders are shivering. He’s crying.
“Sweetheart?”, he didn’t answer. You go straight to him, sitting on the edge of bed, not sure what to do. ”Noel, sweetheart...”, you say calmly and reach for his arm.
He raises his head and you see the sorrow on his face. You see in how much pain he is at the moment and you don’t know neither why this is happening or how to comfort him. It’s him who’s always comforts you. He knows exactly what to say with his low mature voice, he kisses your palms, holding you.
“I’m sorry...”, he said and sat in the bed. He wiped the tears of his face, not looking at you.
“How can I help?”, there’s a clear worrying in your voice.
He scoffs. Like you’re annoying him.
“You can’t help me.”, he starts shivering again.
“I want to. Let me help, please.”, you get closer to him, taking both of his palms in yours. He’s still not looking at you.
“It’s nothing, it’s...”, a tear rolling down his cheek and he looks up, on the ceiling, “I don’t wanna be like this.”
He’s quiet for a bit. And when he looks at you with his red eyes, breathing fast and deep like he’s running marathon.
“I don’t wanna be weak.”, he says quickly, “I think I’ll drive to Liam’s, I think...”
“You what? To Liam’s? Why would...”, and then you realise, “You... what? You want more?”
“You wanna get high? Already?”, you starting to get angry. But then you see his tears again. And you feel yourself hopeless, powerless.
“I wanna feel better, that’s all.”
“Don’t blame me for this, for god’s sake...”, he’s looking down, shakes his head. “Not you, love.”
“Why are you doing this to yourself? You’re clearly not doing well, you need to calm down for a bit.”
You standing up from bed, as if you want to leave. Don’t know where to put your hands, you folded them over your chest, protecting yourself from harsh reality, where your boyfriend can’t live a single morning without a line of fucking, stupid cocaine.
Noel’s quiet for some time. He’s crying, but still doesn’t want you to see the weakest he can be, so he covers his face with his hands and just sits there. Your attitude softens, you kneel down and get closer to bed.
“Why are you crying? Baby, I want to help you, but doing even more damn coke will not make good for you.”
“I’m in pain, Y/N.”, he answers, not taking hands away from his face, “My head hurts”, he’s looking at the ceiling again, “My body. Because I... I feel bad. I’m just feeling bad.”
“Oh god...”, he sighs, “I’m sad.”, he simply answers, “I’m tired. I’m fucked. I think too much about things I shouldn’t.”
“Like... I try to remember if there’s a deadline I didn’t missed. Like when I look in the mirror and see a motherfucker. Like Oasis should be better, bigger, and it’s my fault it’s not. Like when I wake up in the morning. Don’t remember how I ended up in my bed.”, he struggles for a moment, “And you’re not laying next to me. So I think, that you’re gone. I think that you’re tired of me being a little cunt, so you’re gone now.”
“But it’s just an anxiety. It’s not real.”
“But it feels real.”, he looks at you, a bit calmer than he was. Not crying anymore, but still with wet cheeks and hair sticking to his forehead, “I wanna be a bett...”
”..er version of myself.”, you saying it with him and he looks at you, calmly.
“No, you... When you feel miserable, you will do anything to make it stop, yeah?”
“And you’re feeling miserable?”
“Yes.”, he answers urgently.
“But it’s because of cocaine, Noel. You can’t live whole life being high. You’re feeling bad after a night out, so you sniff more, to feel good. It’s the never ending circle and it’s getting smaller and smaller. You’re wasted five days a week, it was only three days a week just a month ago. And now it’s becoming six.”
“I miss you, Noel. I miss you so much.”, you finally say and he looks even ashamed. You ask him in quiet voice, “Please, spend this day with me. I know it’s bad now, but I promise it will get better...”, your own eyes are watery now.
“I like you without all of it. You can do whatever you want, but seeing you in such mental pain that your body starts aching... This is my failure as your girlfriend, as the person who should be looking after you.”, Noel wraps his hands around your shoulders. “Please, for me, stay.”
You hug him and he hugs you. Under the smell of alcohol, under the smell of sweat, you can feel Noel’s smell.
“I promise it will get better.”
After sitting in each other’s arms for a bit, Noel starts to lay down. You look at him.
“Sorry, ah... Fuckin’ head still hurts. Gotta get comfortable, I’m not getting out of bed today.”, he says, unsure in his playfulness.
You smile weakly. Noel kisses your cheek and taking your palm. His hands are still shivering but he tries his best not to get in hold of panic or anxiety.
“You want something? Water?”, you ask, seeing a glimpse of pain in his eyes.
“No, I’m fine.” he answers, “Come ‘ere.”
He hugs you tightly and closes his eyes. You see his eyelashes trembling and hope, really hope that he’s gonna be better soon.
