A Piece of The Sun

32. People Suit

Author POV

Birdie could argue that Noah may have loved Jean a little less after her confession under truth serum. Birdie watched the young woman nearly spill her guts in the training room as she was forced to confront her worst fears head-on and then manipulate those fears into a manifestation that would go against her; At least then she'd no longer have anything to fear after this, she came toward herself with a lethal mix of the woman she loved and all her doubts festering like wounds in her head. Jean wanted to hate herself for admitting the fact she still felt some kind of love for Dallas and why wouldn't she? After all, when a pet dies, you still love them even when they're gone and have snaggled your shoes, stolen your socks and underwear, broken things, and maybe even bit you. To Jean, Dallas was no more than an old broken dog that had died and then some. You don't just forget seven years of your marriage with someone overnight.

Though everyone had their own thoughts about where Noah was going with all of this, he loved her even more for the truth. He could not hate her, he could not punish her for that. Other things, yes, but not this, not for matters of the heart. For the human body, he had every reason in mind to light her aflame for what she had done in her earlier years of marriage, it merely enraged him that those men she was fucking was not him. That would come at a later date to establish, for now, one could say he was enamored as he watched the great display of strength the young woman put on. 

Her determination intrigued him and stirred something within him that had been gone for years, being struck with a different bolt he hadn't felt since he thought he would lose his birth mother. Even as she struggled for a moment, he believed in her that she would overcome. 

She had no choice but to do so. And she came back tenfold, killing whatever monster was visible to her. He would never know what Jean saw in that fight, what her reflection looked like and he had a burning curiosity. He could only stand there alongside Birdie as the girl fought for two hours, unaware that she'd been fighting that long, to her what felt to be only a few minutes. 

And when the time came and she'd reigned victorious in her combat against herself, she began to dance better than she ever had in her entire life. She had outdone herself in ways never seen before, this was nothing like the Jean that was labeled a "Heartstopper" by all the production critics in the world, he'd come to her shows in person, watching her in the balcony seats with his spectacles and the other shows he had replayed from videos. He'd seen every performance of her life whether she knew that. . . Or not. This dance was hauntingly different, as if she couldn't have been more perfect without the drugs, now that she was on them she had gone from dancing Queen to Goddess, her supernatural movements possessed him.

He found himself privileged at her mid-dance when she saw him for exactly who he was. Death marveling. He thought he'd been safe but he took his chances and danced with her anyway and for lack of the thousands of classes she had taken, he danced quite wonderfully for someone who knew very little about dance. He'd only taken a handful of lessons to impress women and in tandem with her flair, he felt confident to do more than what he was taught. He knew how to move about her and eventually lay her to rest, weighing the endorphins running through her body, the drugs and adrenaline, he measured every pace and made her sleep, carrying her to her bedroom and watching her sleep, the drugs should have long since then worn off.

When she woke, that had all gone out the window. She was high as ever, if not more, and hallucinating him in the dark. He could only stand there, terrified that she was afraid and if he made any of his usual movements she would have a heart attack and scream out for help. He was only supposed to put her to bed, he wasn't allowed in her room to stay.