Nochelle - Our Stories

N E W Y E A R S

She takes one of his hands and squeezes it. "I've been worse."

Once she finishes the soup, he places the bowl on the nightstand and stays, holding her hand, until she falls asleep. He waits a while. Her sleep is peaceful, face smooth and breathing only slightly congested. She really is okay. He sighs.

Eventually his hand goes numb and so he eases it out of Richelle's grip. She doesn't respond to the sudden loss except to wriggle her fingers, grasping at nothing. He lifts her hand, gives it a quick kiss, and tucks her arm back underneath the blankets.

Then he takes the empty soup bowl to the kitchen, finishes up the dishes because he knows Richelle hates it when dishes sit overnight, and flops down on the couch. He watches a few old episodes of New Girl, keeping the volume low so as not to disturb Richelle, and then switches the channel to the New Year's celebrations down in Times Square.

He thinks of everyone at James and Riley's with their families, food and bright lights and raucous laughter, and of Richelle lying in their bed, sleeping off a bad cold, and of how he's sitting here alone at the end of the year. He could join her, curl up by her sleeping form, watch the last minutes tick by on his phone. It's not exactly fireworks and champagne, he'll have to stay quiet so he doesn't accidentally wake her, but he wouldn't be alone.   

There were about ten minutes left before midnight when he gets up and turns towards the hallway. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees Richelle standing there, still in her pajamas but with only one blanket wrapped around her shoulders this time. 

"Hey."

There's a bit more color in her cheeks and her eyes are wide open and the blanket is carefully pulled up so it doesn't drag along the floor.  

"How are you feeling, Richie?"

"Better." She shuffles over to drop down on the couch. He helps tuck her blanket more firmly around her and then grabs a quilt, a hideously bright and patterned blanket that his grandma made for him and that he adores, to throw over both of them. "I didn't want you to be alone."

"Aww." He smiles at her. "I was just about to join you."

She smiles back before snuggling closer against his side, knees knocking into his legs. Her head rests against his chest and she's so warm by his side, instantly filling all the gaps between them. She watches the TV for a few minutes and he watches her, a fuzzy warmth settling in his chest, something peaceful and content like this moment, this feeling here, is the reason why humanity continues year after year in the face of an uncaring cosmos.

"What are your New Year's resolutions?" Richelle asks without looking away from the festivities on-screen.

"I don't have any."

She sits back and stares, mouth agape. Before Noah can whine about the sudden loss of warmth by his side, she says, "What? How can you not have any resolutions?"

Noah shrugs. "Never saw the point. People always break them in the first week."

"I don't."

His chest glows at the sight of her fierce eyes and set lips, it's the same look she got when Summer took her front-row spot all those years ago—but it's about resolutions of all things, and his heart does a silly tap dance. "What's yours then?"

"I have a list." She sniffs and it's a little louder than it should be because of her congestion and he can't help but laugh.

"I promise I'm not laughing about the resolutions." He says when he's settled and she's giving him a hard stare. It softens at his fond tone. "A list of resolutions, it's very you. Let's hear it."

"Okay. Stop worrying about having lyrical eyebrows." Noah snorts, she was still hyper-fixating over that all these years later, and she nudges him. "Learn Spanish. Cook a successful meal at least once a week. Do more theatre shows than the year before."

Noah stares at her while she talks, just as enchanted by her now as when she's wearing a beautiful dress. Warmth and affection bubble in his chest until he feels stretched with the sensation, a whole universe of love swirling in his heart, and he has to smile. She's so radiant and so passionate, outshining the sun and all the stars in the sky, even when sick, even when discussing resolutions. He wants to spend the rest of his life in her orbit, spinning and basking in her glow. He wants to marry her.

The epiphany doesn't strike like lightning, a sudden, brilliant flash like so many of his other inspirations and whimsies. Instead it bubbles forth from all that vast feeling in his chest, like something that's always been present and is only now being uncovered. It's almost too much to contain; he wants to drop down on one knee and shout his love for Richelle to the stars, for all to hear and rejoice alongside him right now. He resists – just barely – but he can't stop the smile from spreading across his face.

Richelle finishes speaking and he waits, staring for maybe a beat too long because she's starting to frown, before blurting out, "I just thought of mine."

Richelle sits up straighter. "Okay! What is it?"

"Uhh..." He hadn't meant to speak and he can't propose to her here, without a ring or a speech or anything else prepared. Shit. He mentally back-pedals and curses his lack of brain-mouth filter. She deserves better. A beautiful proposal that he will meticulously plan to be perfect in every way. His eyes skate across the room and land on the orange soda can he fully intended to toss away hours ago. "I'm going to stop drinking soda."

Richelle stares at him, brow lifting. "Noah." He looks back at her with the same serious expression, composing his face so he isn't grinning like a fool. "Seriously?" He doesn't break face and after a pause, she bursts out laughing. "You'll never keep to that."

"Yeah." Noah replies, calming now that his plan is safe. And then he remembers that he's going to ask her to marry him, not now but soon, in the coming months once he finishes planning, which is a whole new kind of panic. A giddy, exciting, terrifying panic that bubbles in his stomach like the soda he lied about deciding to quit. He's going to propose to her. "It'll be broken tomorrow morning over breakfast."

"Oh my God." She laughs and then returns to cuddling against him. "You're the worst at resolutions."

"I am." He says proudly. She doesn't suspect his actual resolution and he's going to get down on one knee in the next couple months and ask her to marry him in the world's most romantic proposal. Take that, Richelle! Who's bad at resolutions now!

His heart swells at the thought of marriage and he is a little scared that she'll say no, that it's too early or it's not what she wants, but mostly he just feels so happy and full in this moment, buoyed by his revelation and his resolution. He smiles, a big and wide smile that stretches across his face.

"What are you smiling at?"

"You."

"Weirdo." Her voice is fond though and she nuzzles against him after.

The countdown for the last few seconds of the year starts on TV, the crowd chanting along. Noah turns to Richelle and shifts her so they're facing each other. "I'm going to kiss you."

"You'll get sick."

"I don't care."

When the countdown strikes zero and the TV explodes with cheers, Noah leans in and kisses Richelle. Her lips are warmer than usual, he'll be concerned about her lingering fever in a moment, but it's Richelle and he's going to ask her to marry him and his stomach dips like this is the first time. Outside fireworks explode in the skies over New York City and inside his heart explodes with its own type of celebration.

~~~

The next morning, he wakes up with a fever and a congested nose. He regrets nothing.

~~~
Happy New Year!! Hope this one is less shitty than the last ❤️