The Shattered Diamonds imploding from the inside had come at a wonderful time for Noah. Not that he'd ever say such a thing out loud. He supposed it wouldn't be very kind, given Poppy's general demeanor nowadays. She was all bitten-down fingernails and sad smiles that didn't quite reach her eyes, and while she still laughed at Noah's unfunny jokes, her heart didn't seem quite in it. Henry walked around with red-rimmed eyes and a weight on his shoulders. Diego was another thing entirely. From the small glimpses he caught of the frontman as he was whisked from room to room, he was sullen, depressed and often drunk or hungover. And hey, Noah was a bastard, but he wasn't a total bastard. He didn't want the band to break up or anything. Not just because he'd be out of a job, but because, well, they all seemed pretty happy playing together. Like a little makeshift family.
The aforementioned implosion of said makeshift family had made him think of his own. Keeley, with her shock of red hair and her who-pissed-in-your-cornflakes attitude, twinning his own. And Flynn, who he'd only just gotten used to seeing without a myriad of bruises on his face. He'd been the one to fuck up their little unit, tear it up from the inside out and send Flynn running into the arms of a waiting blonde. He missed them something fierce, like a phantom limb. It stung to wake up every day and not have them be in the next room. But it stung even more knowing the way he'd left things with Flynn.
So, when it became clear the tour was on some kind of hiatus, the roadie booked the next flight out to New York. The shittiest kind, with minimal leg room and everything he owned stuffed into one tiny overnight bag to skirt luggage charges and his shoulders bumping up against the bratty teen sitting next to him. He'd drained most of his bank account and some of Kara's to get there, but he'd promised to make the drive out after to come and see her.
He'd stumbled from the flight to a bus, a crick in his neck and his stomach protesting in hunger, tangled headphones in his ears playing all the songs that made him miss Flynn the most. He guessed he should he should feel guilty, sitting here with an ache in the pit of his stomach for someone who wasn't his girl. But he'd always wanted something more, once he'd got it. Noah was nomadic, it was in his blood, he was sure of it. No sooner had he settled that he was onto the next. But that was how he'd lost Flynn.
By the time he found himself at Flynn's front door, he knew he was looking worse for wear. More so than usual, crust clinging to the corners of his eyes and hair mussed from a fitful sleep on the plane. It wasn't the way he wanted to see Flynn for the first time in however many months, but he didn't wanna risk going home and losing his nerve, getting an earful from Keeley. So he'd swallowed his pride and gone straight from the bus to Flynn.
The little place he was living - Rae's place - was cute, from the outside. He imagined the inside was plush and artsy, like her, flowers blooming all over the goddamn place. He wondered if Flynn had left his mark on her space, his guitar taking up a semi-permenant residency in the corner, the shape of his body embedded in the couch where he slept night after night. He pictured Flynn, up late, bathed in the glow of his laptop screen as he searched for places for them to live together, a happy couple. Something soured in Noah's stomach at the thought, nausea climbing up his throat. If he'd not been so goddamn stupid, so pigheaded, could that have been him?
He brushed that thought away as he rang the buzzer, his fingers running down each and every button til some idiot was lazy and lenient enough to let him in. He'd coaxed the apartment number out of Harlow, stupid and soft enough to believe Noah wanted to pay the happy couple a surprise visit. And well, he did, just probably not the way either of them expected.
The flat of his palm came down on the door multiple times, and he heard a small commotion on the other side before the tell-tale sound of the lock mechanism kicked in. The voice was faintly, distinctly Flynn, and his heart leapt a little. With relief or delight, he didn't know.
As the door swung open, Noah went in shoulder-forward, barraging past Flynn without looking at him, and into the room.
"Hey, Moone. Is blondie home?" Noah asked, peering around the room for the five-foot-nothing girlfriend of one Flynn Moone.
