Closure (bxb)

twenty-eight

"Do you want some breakfast?"

Noah, again, doesn't respond. He's hanging off the edge of a cliff by a rope with one last thread left to hold him. And he feels it's going to snap soon.

"Noah?"

"Why are you here?"

"I already said—"

"No." Noah sits up. "Why are you here? Why were you here last night and why are you here now? What more do you want from me, Arlo? What do you want? Because I swear to God, I will do anything for you to just fuck off at this point."

He knows it's the paranoia talking, but he can't help it. It's an ugly, dark cloud of mess in his mind that just won't let up. And eventually, the storm will hit.

It's silent again. Noah's chest heaves as he watches Arlo with intense eyes, watches him take a small step back, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows harshly. 

"You were nearly dead when I found you," Arlo finally says, voice low and small and trembling, like he can barely fathom the words.

"Yes, that's the point of trying to kill yourself."

"You—" Arlo turns away, running both hands through his hair as he tries to take a quivering breath. 

Noah keeps his eyes trained on him, still panting like he's just run a marathon. He's high on adrenaline and hot fury, begging for a fight. And yet, he can't find the right words. So, he waits for Arlo to speak first.

"Why?"

Noah scoffs. "You're asking me why I tried to kill myself? God, you really are a lot dumber than I already thought you were."

Arlo turns again. "Why are you like this, Noah? Why do you— Why—" He lets out a frustrated sound as he rubs his eyes. "I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. Because I care about you a lot, Noah. I do. I know you think it's stupid and superficial and not worth your time, but I genuinely care for you. In our own way, I love you, Noah. I want what's best for you. I want to help you. But all you do is push me away, Noah. And I've always believed in fighting for the people you love, but you make it hurt—" 

His voice breaks as the first tear falls. "Loving you hurts so much - so much, bello. And I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do. It's all so fucked up and—" A heavy sob racks through his body and he gasps, eyes squeezing shut as he rubs a large hand over his chest like he's trying his best to soothe the heartache. "Loving you shouldn't hurt this much. I don't want it to hurt this much. Please."

Arlo looks at him - truly, looks at him. His green eyes, wide and uncertain, sparkle with tears as he looks at Noah like he's the answer to all his problems, like he's waiting for guidance and wisdom from a suicidal junkie.

"God, that was fucking pathetic," Noah sneers, a look of pure disgust on his face. "Pull yourself together, you idiot. Love?" Noah mocks. "You think you love me? Get over yourself, you asshole. Coming to my house and deciding to throw a fucking pity party for yourself because your poor, self-righteous heart can't bear being around me. You want to know what to do? You want my advice?" Noah asks. "Fuck right off. Go. Lose my number. Lose the PIN to my apartment. Forget I even exist. Honestly," he scoffs, "what is it with grown men making their own adult choices and then coming back to me to give me their sob stories?"

"And you're fine with that?" Arlo asks, sniffling. "You're fine with never seeing me again?" His brows furrow as he barely whispers, "Do I really mean so little to you?"

"You mean nothing to me," Noah corrects him, finding sick amusement in the pained expression that flashes over Arlo's features. "And it would do you some good to remember that every now and then."