i wrote this is one sitting fueled by mitski and sleep deprived yearning. i hope u like it. shoutout to @farmcorelynch for introducing me to czeng bc its all i’ve thought about since like monday. its also on ao3 here
Noah was staring at the ceiling. It used to be, before they came back, that they could see the grain clearly, their ghostly eyes ungoverned by the laws of nature. They’d lie on their bed and trace the whorls of the wood, gaze traveling the length of each board. Now, though, with their limited, living eyes, the ceiling was too high to see in any detail. They flicked their thumbnail against the pad of their fingers, one two three four four three two one.
Sometime in the intervening seven years, they had forgotten how confining it was to be alive. Or, they supposed, they had never realized until they had been free to skip around in time. Now they were stuck, here, in this moment, and they had to take of their binder after ten hours.
They were bored.
That was unfamiliar.
They picked up their phone, the new one they’d bought after they came back. It didn’t have many numbers in it.
Gansey and Blue were probably off doing something disgustingly sappy and hetero, so that was out. Noah didn’t, particularly want, in that moment, Ronan’s particular brand of rough affection. Noah knew they could talk to Ronan if they wanted, but they were after a different brand of comfort. Something softer. They didn’t actually know what they wanted. They couldn’t quite pinpoint toward what their brand new heart was pulling.
They called Henry.
Henry picked up. “Good evening, my resurrected friend! How are you? What are you calling yourself today?”
Noah shrugged, then remembered Henry couldn’t see it. “Noah is fine. Neutral though. What about you?”
“I am excellent. Having a masculine day, methinks. How are you?”
“I’m not sure. Bored, mostly, I think.”
“Well, we can’t have that! What are you thinking? Hooliganism? Arcane rituals? Pizza?”
A smile curled Noah’s lips before they could stop it. “I think I've had enough of arcane rituals for now, and I’m not really that hungry, so, hooliganism, I guess.” “We could watch a movie!”
“A movie sounds nice. I’m just stuck in my room right now, I guess. I don’t even know why. It’s not like I'm grounded.”
Henry’s voice was quiet. “Sometimes, you just get stuck.”
Warmth spread through Noah’s fingers. This was two novel sensations; being known, and being warm.
Henry hung up the phone. He had moved from Litchfield after graduation, and now he lived in a little apartment a few blocks away. He lived alone. He loved it, not least because he could have people over at any hour he liked.
It was a short drive to Monmouth. Ten minutes after hanging up, Henry knocked on the door to Noah’s room.
It opened. Noah stood, eye to eye with Henry, blond hair mussed, wearing a gigantic t shirt tucked into expensively destroyed jeans. There seemed to be glitter smudged across their cheekbone, on top of their old mark. Henry was seized by the unaccountable desire to touch their face. Noah’s eyes had been colorless and dark when they were dead, but now they were clear grey. They were slightly flushed.
“Hey.”
Pulling himself awake, Henry produced a smile. “Hello! Shall we escape this hell of industrial vintage aesthetic?”
Eyes crinkling a little, Noah nodded, and followed Henry down to the weedy driveway.
As soon as the car door shut, Noah took possession of Henry’s phone, scrolling through his music. They couldn’t decide, so the two of them drove in silence. Henry kept stealing glances at Noah out of the corner of his eye. Their tousled hair, the long fair eyelashes that brushed the skin under their eye when they blinked.
Eyes on the road, Henry.
Noah wasn’t watching the movie. In theory, they wanted to. But much as they were interested in watching Kiera Knightly curse out whoeverthefuck played Mr. Darcy, their eyes kept escaping the screen, settling on the curve of Henry’s throat, the creases at the corners of his eyes when he laughed. Noah’s new heart squeezed in their chest when Henry turned to them, a smile still scrunching his nose, and asked “Say, are you going to hog all that glitter, or do you have any to spare?”
Grinning, Noah produced a vial of pink heart-shaped glitter from their pocket. “Are you sure you’re prepared for the power bestowed by this?”
Henry gasped. “I wouldn't want you to spend your best sparkles on me.” Reaching for Noah’s cheekbone, he braced his thumb on the turn of their jaw, and smeared some off onto his finger. “I’ll just borrow some of this.”
Noah’s lungs felt suddenly uncooperative. They felt color rising in their face, their ears heating. Shit. Feeling rather daring, Noah said, “You know, that’s not enough for someone as cute as you.” They unscrewed the jar’s lid and applied the flakes one by one over Henry’s nose and cheeks. They tried to ignore just how close they were to Henry.
Henry’s face was as red as Noah’s. He blinked, looking like a deer in headlights. A very pretty deer. At that thought, Noah spluttered and began to laugh. Henry’s brow creased, and then he joined in. They laughed so hard they couldn’t hear the movie, and tears sprang to Noah’s eyes.
When they were done laughing, Henry paused the movie. He pulled out his phone and a bluetooth speaker, and, as soon as the music began to play, he grabbed Noah by both hands and pulled them off the couch, and the two of them danced, swirling around the darkened room, laughing and tripping over furniture and their discarded shoes.
The song changed.
I love everybody because I love you/when you stood up, walked away barefoot/and the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape/I looked over it and I ached.
Suddenly, Henry was intensely aware of Noah’s smooth fingers pressed against the skin of his palm. Henry twirled them around and around, giggling when Noah tripped over their own feet, staggering until Henry pulled them upright.
All I need, darling/is a life in your shape/I picture it, soft, and I ache.
Noah’s face seemed very close, their light eyes bright with mirth, their lips parted in a helpless grin, hair falling over their eyes. They looked like they might speak.
Look at you, strawberry blond.
Before Noah could say anything, before he could second-guess himself, Henry said, very quietly, “I think I’d like to kiss you now, if you don’t mind.”
Noah blushed a brilliant pink, and then they leaned forward, very gently, and pressed their lips to Henry’s.
Henry felt like he was blooming. Petals, soft as Noah’s lips, unfurled inside his heart, stretching toward the sun. Cautious, he curled one hand over Noah’s jaw, where he had placed his thumb earlier. Noah’s fingers tangled with his by their side, their free hand resting softly against the bottom of Henry’s ribcage.
When they separated, foreheads touching, Noah said quietly, “I have wanted to do that since the day I met you.”
Henry’s breath caught, and it was a moment before he could say, “Me too.”
Noah pressed another kiss against the corner of Henry’s mouth, and Henry could feel them smiling against his skin.
“Wanna finish the movie?”
Henry nodded, and the two of them returned to the couch, this time with Noah’s head in Henry’s lap, Henry carding his fingers through Noah’s soft curls. Once, Noah grabbed his hand and Henry was afraid he had annoyed them, but they simply kissed his palm and stuck his hand back in their hair.
“You’re a flirt,” He accused.
“What are you gonna do about it?”
Henry made a mock-pensive face. “Given my options, I think that I will date you.”
Noah’s mouth popped open like a nutcracker. Then they turned pink (again) and grinned foolishly. Henry couldn’t help himself, he kissed them on the end of their nose, then on their lips, upside-down. Noah sat up and turned so Henry could kiss them properly.
So Henry did.
