𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫, 𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘀

𝟎𝟑𝟎

"Goodnight, P." Noah chimes and hugs Penelope. The blonde takes in the embrace, glad to see that the teen is hanging in there.

—
𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺'𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵

"Stop that!" Emily exclaims as Noah tries to take a bite of her food.

Noah begged that they stop at their favorite Chinese takeout restaurant. Emily thought that if she got Noah what she wanted, she would be more willing to talk once they got home. They found themselves in their comfort spot, eating takeaway on the living room floor.

"Please, just one more bite!" Noah pleads.

"One more!" Emily giggles.

Noah takes her fork and grabs some of Emily's noodles, moving them to her own plate.

"You're gonna leave me hungry over here." The woman chuckles as she takes a bite of her food before Noah can steal any more.

"You know, the friend I was telling you about in Seattle...." Noah pauses to swallow her food, "He used to always get mad at me for taking his food." She says and smiles to herself as she takes a moment to remember.

"His Mom would always pack him the snacks that every kid wanted in their lunch."

Emily smiles as she listens to Noah opening up.

"I always pretended that his Mom was my Mom. The perfect mother that mine wasn't." Noah says with a frown.

"How come you guys stopped being friends?" Emily cautiously asks.

"I lost him. The hospital; it took me back to that moment."

Emily puts down her fork, seeing as the conversation took a turn. Emily thought it was some sort of childish drama that ended friendships. It happened to Emily all the time when she was a kid. Either something happened or she moved to a different country; some friends were just never meant to stick around.

But this is different. There was no choice in Noah and her friend's parting of ways.

"I thought, maybe he was gonna be okay. But, he died the night he got there." Noah agonizes the thought of talking about the situation with someone.

"What happened?" Emily inquires.

Noah opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She has never had to explain what happened, she was never asked.

"We met in art class last year," Noah begins, "We were both awful at art and the teacher hated us."

"She hated how every time she talked, we were too busy talking to each other or laughing. And she hated that we put no effort in. But sometimes we really tried, we were just that bad!" Noah giggles and sees Emily smiling.

"We would always make fun of each other's art." Noah chuckles, "He once told me that my watercolor painting of a butterfly looked like a hotdog with wings."

Emily lets a giggle escape at Noah's story.

"He was fun to be around, but I don't think he ever knew that." Noah admits, "He was...sad. Like, all the time. It just depended on whether he wanted to show it or not." She explains.

"When we got closer, we made up this system. If he was having an okay day, he would wear these bright neon green socks. And if he was having a bad day, he would wear black socks." Noah explains to Emily, "After a while, I never saw the green socks again. And I always wanted to ask him about it, but I didn't want to see the smile disappear from his face."

"Because he smiled around me all the time. When we would meet up in the mornings, in class, when we would eat lunch together, after school when we would hang out in his backyard." Noah sadly smiles to herself, "He was my escape and I was his."

Noah pauses as she composes herself for what comes next.

"Every day, I wish I would have asked him." She sighs, "But I was too late."

Emily looks down at the ground and she realizes what Noah is trying to say.

"What was his name?" Emily asks.

"Max," Noah replies and rolls her eyes to hold back her tears, "His name was Max." She says more contently.

"I'm sure Max was a good friend."

"You know, even after he was gone, I always wondered how he seemed to have fit a lifetime of friendship into one year."

"Sometimes the best people are the ones who are struggling inside," Emily says and looks up at the teen, who has a tear rolling down her cheek. Emily lifts her hand to wipe it away and scoots over to sit closer to the teen.

"Why didn't I do better? Why didn't I do more for him?" Noah innocently asks.

"Noah—"

"I let him down — I did that! I didn't do better, I should have done more, I should have checked on him! Why didn't I ask him if he was okay? Why didn't I check in on him? Why didn't I do better?!" Noah cries out as she feels her breath tighten. Emily takes the teen into her arms and consoles her.

"Noah," Emily coos and brushes the teen's hair with her fingers, "You gave that boy the best year of his life. You gave him exactly what he needed."

"I just wish I wouldn't have minimized what he was going through," Noah sobs, "I mean, I was so naive that we made up a system based on socks!"

"You didn't minimize it. You saw it and you recognized it and, for him, that might have been rare." Emily wisely says, "You spent all those days with him and, who knows? Maybe that was a whole year that you gave him just because you were being you."

"I just wish 'me being me' would've convinced him a bit longer."

Noah sits up and unravels herself from Emily's arms.

"Was this what triggered the panic attack at the hospital?" Emily questions her.

"There was a woman who was breaking down in the hallway." Noah says, "It was someone who was close to her. I overheard the nurses saying she was young."

"I didn't kick and scream and sob my way out of the hospital when Max died." Noah admits, "But I felt every single thing she was feeling in my head. And, in my mind, that's almost worse."