| Amelia |
My nose scrunched in revulsion at the bitter taste that slid down my throat, but I gulped it down nevertheless.
Smacking my tongue to savour the aftertaste, I tilted my head and averted my gaze towards Noah, who was watching me in interest.
His lips curved into a smirk as mischief glinted in his eyes. "I didn't know you could drink." He teased, resting his elbows on his knees in front of him, leaning further into the wall.
I pulled a saccharine smile back at him, for once teasing him back. "I didn't know you could watch children's movies."
Obviously displeased with my retort, he immediately put his thumb and index finger at the edges of my lips, pinching them together and successfully wiping the smile off my face.
"I thought we agreed to not mention that again." He chided, retreating his touch, "and you, sweetheart, know nothing about me."
Ouch.
Normally, I would've shut right up after that remark, preferring to stay in the comfort and safety of my own space bubble; but feeling particularly brave at the moment, I simply frowned in response, questioning what he had said.
"I don't think that's completely true."
The remark made him turn his head to the side to face me, one of his brows cocked in interest. "Is that so?"
"Mhm." I thought - almost absentmindedly - for a moment about all the things that had transpired since the beginning of the semester: the first warning in class, the confrontations that followed after, the secret conversation in that unfortunate alley...
How I got to know, however unwillingly, so much more about the mysterious boy I wouldn't have dared to even breathe at earlier.
"I know you're in a gang."
I then blurted out suddenly, raising my eyes to look into his, not for a moment second-guessing my words.
He seemed taken aback for an indecipherable second before he broke into a low chuckle, clicking his tongue.
"You're feeling adventurous tonight, huh?"
On instinct, I shook my head rapidly. "No...I don't mean to pry, just-"
"Relax," he stopped me before I could babble further, shrugging his shoulders, way too calm for me to be used to, "it's something you're already aware of, aren't you?"
All I could do was nod unsurely as he continued, a tight tick forming in his jaw.
"And now you also know about my dad."
A sudden tension filled the space as he mentioned his father, reminding me of the night of the party; how he had changed demeanours in the blink of an eye, faltering in his image as the philanthropic, kind-hearted businessman everyone knew him to be.
The event had baffled me. I couldn't fathom why Mr. Carter would behave like that, especially with his own son, when he seemed so approachable and light-hearted at the entry gate that night.
"He's always been like that, don't drive yourself crazy thinking about it."
Noah's voice broke my chain of thought, making me raise my gaze to find him looking ahead of him as if in deep thought.
"But...why?" I asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
"It's what he's constructed. The perfect reputation for the outside world. Trust me, he's wildly different when he's alone."
And after that, Noah was silent.
Something in his eyes was different. These past months, I had grown used to their fire, fury and contempt, but I had never quite witnessed the look his eyes held as he talked about his father - it held a storm even greater than the ones I had been privy to. It was new to me...unfamiliar.
I didn't like that.
"It can't be easy," I spoke after a pause. "The gang, your father, the way he changes personalities when he's not around people."
If this was any other day or situation, I wouldn't have dared to say anything to him about his family, much less try to comfort him, but owing to his - and my partial - drunken state, it didn't seem that big of a deal at the time.
He seemed lost in his own web of thoughts. Moments passed before his lips parted, a slow yet steady string of words following right after.
"The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment."
He was still looking ahead of him at the wall, almost as if he was addressing himself more than he was me.
I couldn't help but gawk at him in, what I feared, was...awe. "Sin?" I bit out hesitantly, not sure exactly what he was getting at.
My voice pulled him out of his state of thought, making him shake his head lightly and dismiss what he had just said. "Forget it."
For the second time tonight, I found myself staring at Noah Carter, hard, trying to decipher what he had meant - who he was. What did he mean by punishment?
The fixation of my gaze on him did not go unnoticed.
"I don't want your pity, Amelia." He retorted, tone filled with stoicism and noticeable aggravation.
I wondered if the prospect of being pitied was why Noah was so closed-off, why he had restricted himself to Chase and a myriad of meaningless flings.
"I'm not offering it." I answered him back calmly. "But why are you calling yourself a sinner?"
He turned his head to look at me, eyes assessing my face like I had seen him do so many times before. "Well, sweetheart, I'm in a gang, aren't I?" He brought back my words from earlier, enunciating when he said 'gang', partially mocking me.
I lowered my head, embarrassed that I had let my fear of his potential activities be so evident to him.
Minutes passed with it being my turn to be lost in my reveries, the peaceful stillness of the abandoned place providing the perfect environment for that.
It was then that a sudden thought popped in my brain.
"Crime and Punishment." It slipped from my mouth as if waiting to do so for a very long while. "'The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin.' That's from Crime and Punishment, isn't it?"
I couldn't believe it had taken me so much time to realise where his words were taken from.
Clear and unfiltered surprise shone on his face.
"You have read Crime and Punishment?"
Offended for the second time since I showed up at this house, I folded my arms, intrigued. "Yes. Why can't I have read it?"
He pulled a look of disgust. "I don't know, I'd expect you to read some idle romantic shit or something, not Dostoevsky."
I let out an exasperated huff. "Well, you're wrong, Carter. It's actually one of my favourite books."
Don't get me wrong, I was always up for a steaming cup of coffee and a even more titillating romance or fantasy to match perfectly with it; but there was something so disturbingly comforting about the kind of dreadful, admittedly dark books I found myself picking up most of the time.
Noah narrowed his eyes in suspicion, still finding it difficult to believe me. "You have a curiously grim taste in books for someone who's so...perky, don't you think?"
"Perky? Really?" I sighed in disbelief, "You know, you surprisingly have a taste in books, for someone who's so nonchalant all the time."
He seemed unaffected, simply rolling his eyes and shrugging in nonchalance, getting up from his place on the floor and - a bit unstably - walking toward what seemed like a tall cupboard a few feet away from us.
Opening it, he swiftly pulled out a thick stack of dusty books and kept it on the floor, folding his arms and leaning against the wall on his shoulder.
I smiled as a reflex, genuinely surprised. "I didn't know you read so much."
He raised his brow while I too moved from my position and began going through each of the titles, running my fingertips along the spines of the hardbacks.
"Are you calling me stupid?"
"No, just..." I wondered absentmindedly, my attention still fixed on the books, "I've read all of these, save a few. They're exactly my genre."
Brows furrowed, I looked up at him in interest, finding him staring at me right back.
We stayed in that position for a fleeting moment before he averted his eyes and shrugged, contorting his expression into the same look I had grown to despise. "Whatever."
Pursing my lips, I retreated back to my position against the wall and so did he, an awkward silence engulfing the space between us - well, at least it was awkward for me. Noah seemed nonchalant about the whole thing.
With nothing to do, I played with my fingers idly while he picked the alcohol bottle from the floor and took a swig from it, revealing some sort of a small graffiti-like tattoo on the side of his forearm.
"Your dad's dead, isn't he?"
My mouth hung open like a fish out of the water as he suddenly said that, making my eyes widen and an incredulous chuckle escape my lips.
"What?"
"I said, your dad's dead, isn't he?" He amazingly reiterated, raising his brow as if awaiting my response.
No one had ever been so straightforward with me about the whole ordeal. It always began with uncomfortable silence and ended with them saying they were sorry.
Perhaps Noah didn't quite know what the societal norm regarding these things was (or didn't care), but somehow, his carefree approach was something I found myself being thankful for.
"Yeah. Yeah, he is."
"Hm." He looked like he was processing that information for a while before he asked point-blank, "Do you miss him?"
I took in a shaky inhale.
Normally, my dad's death was something I absolutely despised talking about - the 'indiscreet' looks, the rapid apologies that followed after...the feeling of pity. Yet, somehow, the expression on Noah's face was indicative of none of that. It was as if he genuinely wanted to me to tell him.
"Of course, I do." I whispered lowly, softly brushing a few strands of my hair out of my face.
He hummed lowly in response, silently encouraging me to continue.
"It happened years ago...but the stain never vanishes. It's always there, stuck, but...it just fades away, I guess." I stopped abruptly, contemplating whether or not to say the next thing that had crossed my mind but deciding on letting it out, "It's actually why I listen to that song."
"What song?"
"The one that was playing in my room that day...the day you broke in." I lowered my head when an unassailable blush formed on my face in embarrassment at the memory of that night. "It's...It's what my father used to sing to me when he wished me good night."
"Oh." He thought about it for a while, tossing and turning it over in his head like a child given an insuperable puzzle with a limited time to solve it.
"You're...not you, Amelia."
He finally reached his conclusion, tilting his head and assessing me intensely, something obscure glinting in his eyes.
I couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm not me?"
"Precisely."
"Then...who am I?"
Once again, he took a swig from the bottle of vodka - which was almost empty now - seeming disconnected before he whispered, almost to himself,
"I wonder who knows."
-
Hey there,
Thank you so much for reading the chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. Personally, it was so much fun to write their first proper conversation with each other.
What do you think is going to happen now? What did Noah mean by punishment?
On a side note though, do read Crime and Punishment if you can, I highly recommend it :P
Please vote on the chapter and comment if you're liking the story!
Until next time,
Kiara❤️