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Iris
"I hate you, but I don't really hate you but since I forgot my phone, I hate you."
Noah glances at me, before looking back at the road as he drives. "You are mildly sober, right now. The water helped-drink some more?"
Noah has been driving for twenty-one minutes and fifty-six seconds and he is dodging all of my questions about where we are going- idiot, I don't like him.
I scoff, looking outside through the window. "I will let you know that I have a high tolerance level-"
"You don't."
"-and it is not like the wine could have made me like whole assed drunk," I complete and give him a glare.
All he replies, smirking (not surprised, are we?), is "Pissed."
"It is drunk. We live in US. Not UK, where they call it being pissed," I pause for a beat. "Or so, I think? But whatever, do not call it being pissed."
He doesn't reply but his smirk says it all. I sit in such a position that I can see him drive. I am not trying to be subtle or even, a creep but... I stare at his profile as he drives.
I know he has a tanned-very light aureate skin and freckles just upon his nose, too little but still there.
With the help of the lights from the dashboard, I can see small neon sparkles in his eyes, contrasting with the amber, the bit crooked nose and the well-defined stubbled jawline with subtle cheekbones.
His umber hair just falling without fault on his forehead, hiding the scar-looks really soft and neat... but mainly soft.
I want to run my fingers through it.
I look away, quickly, as fast as blush starts to spread on my cheeks. That is just so... cliché but to make matters worse, he notices me blushing.
"You blush a lot."
"And you don't blush at all," I retort. "Do you wear contacts?" I blurt out, changing the topic.
Taken aback, he glances at me, confused. "... no."
"Why do you wear those specs, then?"
"They don't have much power and I wear them when I like to."
I consider it but I don't hold back when I say, "I like it when you wear them. They get a side of you that is not like a bad boy as everyone thinks."
He just nods with the habitual blank expression on his face.
He doesn't say anything back, again, and I look at him. He is such a contrast to me; I just can go on talking and he doesn't talk much-heck, he doesn't express much, either... but still, I feel there is a certain similarity between him and I.
Anyway, I am thankful for the distraction, right now and maybe-just maybe, I just like his company...
"Where are we going?" I ask him, after eight seconds.
"Somewhere," He answers, looking forward.
"Okay, where's the car going to stop?"
He doesn't delay answering, "Somewhere."
I groan out. "Look, we have been going on and on about this for seven times. Just tell me."
His lips lift up into a small smile. "Music?" He asks, dodging my question.
"Nice way of changing the topic" I murmur, as I go through the list of songs.
"I think your way of changing the topic was better."
"Sh-shut up," I say to him, flustered. "Just don-no way. You have BTS on your playlist?" I turn to look at him. "Didn't you tell me you are more of a R&B guy?"
He looks at the songs and curses.
"The triplets are obsessed with them," He says, running his hands through the hair.
"Yeah, right."
He gives me an irritated look. "I mean it. When Rina met RM, I swear she literally cried. I can't understand anything, but I guess their music is..."
"Grooving?" I suggest, still scrolling through the list. "They are also part of my band fetish-a little but still there."
"Bella," Noah calls me, and I look at him.
"Hm?"
He looks across my face as if trying to know something but settles on, "Nothing."
He looks away and onto the road, putting a random song. I don't recognize the song, but I like it-I really do.
When I look at Noah, he frowns and changes the song, before I can even ask about the singer.
"Why did you change it? It is a good song."
Slowly, he lets out a breath. "I do not want to listen to it," he says.
I want to ask more but I don't want to pry. From Noah's expression, I am sure asking about the song wouldn't be good.
I lean forward and change the current song to 5SOS's San Francisco. He looks at me in question, but I ignore him.
No matter how bad or good, I start to sing, leaning my head on the window and closing my eyes.
"Leaves fall from the tallest trees// Even mountains crumple into the sea// holding on to memories// and I can't let go..." I trail off as I feel blocked up with tears.
"I am fine," I whisper to myself, firmly, and look outside the window. But Noah listens as I feel him look at me.
"Bella," He starts. "Is there anythi-?"
"Change the song," I say, cutting him off, in a low voice as I wipe the tears away.
"Bella-"
"Why do you call me Bella?" I ask him, eyes still closed.
As if in reply, the song changes.
"Victim of love by The Eagles," I murmur, recognizing it. When I hear him next, I open my eyes in shock.
Noah Arthur Radcliffe can sing.
His voice has a slight rasp to it, and I can tell he is barely trying. His fingers are tapping on the steering wheel while he drives-but he sings.
How the hell didn't I know that?
"You sing... good," I say, awe-struck. "Weirdly."
"Weirdly? What does that mean?" He glances at me, confused.
"I didn't know what to expect from your singing but I, seriously, didn't know you can sing."
He smirks, looking forward. "That's not the only thing I know how to do."
"I shouldn't have said that," I roll my eyes and close them, eventually.
"I just realized that was a compliment from Iris Cooper," He says. His amusement is clear in his voice. "Want me to continue?"
"Yes," I say in a low voice. "Just...keep on singing. I like your voice."
There is slight pause and hesitation from his side, but then, he starts singing, properly this time. I concentrate on his voice, on the little husk that comes from certain words and that accent of his...
I haven't heard anything this peaceful for a long time.
***
I am standing in front of a small grassy way that leads into a black oblivion as Noah is getting a blanket.
I don't even want to know why he has a blanket in his car.
"You know, pajamas and a tank top under a yellow cardigan are not an appropriate wear for a chilly night," He says, holding the blanket under his arm.
Only now, I notice what he is wearing. A grey sweatshirt under black jacket with black jeans and boots-wow, he sure takes the bad boy look seriously.
"Well, a notice prior to the trip would have been good," I say, holding onto the cardigan as the wind blows. "And it is not that cold."
He raises his eyebrows and looks at me from head to toe. "You sure?"
I say to him, raising my chin, "I am good."
He lets out a breath with a small smile. Turning on the flashlight from his phone, he turns towards me.
"Bella?" Noah holds out his hand.
"I can walk by myself." I cross my arms.
Instead of being offended, he smirks. "I am asking for the car keys. I gave them to you."
For a moment, I just stare at him. I-I cannot believe I thought-
Calm down, ovaries. This is not some romance novel.
"Yeah, yeah, here are these." I mumble, giving them the keys.
His lips form a full-fledged smile. "If you want, you can hold my arm." He leans downs, holding it out. "I've heard it is quite comfort-"
"Oh shush." I start moving into the path. Noah chuckles but is close behind me.
Long trees and small vegetation line against the sides of the small trail as far as I can see in the flashlight. But...it is dark, alright. Dark and cold-of course, Noah will get me somewhere here.
I am really questioning my friendship with this edgy man. I am actually questioning in what state of mind did I agree to this trip.
Was I drunk or what?
If I was, that would mean I wanted to come with him.
...but I was drunk and I-
"Bella, stop thinking out loud."
I turn to glare at the giraffe behind me but only meet the blinding white light. "If you don't want to listen, chop off your ears, Arthur."
In this dark, I can only make out Noah's lower part of the face. "Stupid, Arthur, Idiot... you have a bad vocabulary for coming with someone as handsome as me."
"Oh, really? If you don't like me and my nicknames, you can leave me-"
"Bella," Noah pulls me towards him by my arm, and I can see his face bright and clear. Now, it is all serious and... scarily cute? "I am not leaving you."
I frown.
"Let's go..." I whisper, looking down. There is a pause from Noah's side but within a second, he leaves my arm and intertwines his hand with mine.
"Come on," He says and leads the way.
Mind has a weird way of reminding of the day just eight years ago.
London - trees - wind - hospitals - holding hands - rushes - 102 seconds - out of the room - deafening sounds - dad rushes - cr-
"We are here," Noah says, interrupting my thoughts.
I look around.
We are standing in front of a coastal lake which is roughly a mile away from the beach itself. Small pebbles lay near the water body and shines as the silver light falls on us.
I look up at the night sky, full of bits and bits of stars with moon in the center of it.
"Wow." I breathe out.
"Just wait for a few hours. There's a meteor shower coming up," Noah says, and I look at him. He has gone a bit away from where I am standing and has put down the blanket.
"How... how do you know about it? This place? The meteor showers? You are like the last person to pull up something..."
I can feel the alcohol in me vanishing away as I sit beside him on the blanket.
He raises his eyebrows at me. "Something?"
"Um, sweet? Cute? Eh, I don't remember the word..." I say, making a face.
He raises his eyebrows at me, before telling me, "I found this place, like four years ago... but never came here after then."
"This is the second time I am coming here," He says, a distant look in his eyes.
"Oh." I look up at the sky, again. "I like it. I really do."
"I'm glad you do," He says, looking forward, as he throws a pebble into the lake. It takes three jumps and then, dips into the water.
I scoff. "I can do better than that."
He gives me a sidelong glance, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Really?"
I take a pebble in my hand and throw it in three seconds. The pebble takes two jumps and then, drowns. "Damn it."
Noah looks at me with a cheeky grin and throws a pebble, still looking at me. I look at the pebble as it takes five strides and drowns.
"Okay, that is just luck and stop showing off," I tell him, rolling my eyes.
"You are just jealous that I do it better than you," He states and, honestly, he is not wrong.
I look at the sky, trying to cool down my burning cheeks, when I blurt out, "That looks like a purse."
He looks at me, shocked. "Wha-" I point towards the set of stars in the sky. "That looks like a rectangle," He says, looking in the direction.
"Geez, I am more creative than you," I say, shaking my head.
"Do you believe that people who... pass away become stars in the sky?" I hear Noah ask, after a moment of silence.
"A question even I need an answer to." Tears roll down my face and, weirdly, I don't stop them at all.
"Bella? Bella?" He looks at me, concerned. "What-?"
I shake my head, crying, and turn away from him.
"Look at me." He cups my face and makes me look at him. I do for a second, but I close my eyes as I feel my hands are shaking. "Iris?"
Taking a deep breath, I tell him. "Noah, today's my... Grandpa's death anniversary. 13th of February."
He freezes. It is as if he stops breathing for a moment; maybe he doesn't know what to do-
His hands move away from my cheeks and wrap around my waist, hugging me. I still under his touch but I forget everything as I start crying on his t-shirt.
"Bella." He pulls me closer to his chest as I cry more badly. His hands draw circles on my waist. He strokes my hair, soothingly as he puts his head on my shoulder.
For five minutes and fifty-three seconds (heck even in a time like this I am counting), we stay like this until I take a deep breath.
The smell of lemons fills around me. I pull myself away from him and he lets me except keeping his arms on my waist.
"Thirteenth of February. I was about ten years old. Grandpa was battling last stage brain cancer..."
He looks at my face, concerned. "Bella, you don't need to tell me."
I shake my head and say, "No. I want to, Noah. Please let me."
"I am okay if you are." He, visibly, gulps.
This is it. I am going to tell him, something I haven't dared to tell anyone for last eight years.
"I was there when he died," I confess.
***
"What do you mean you were there?" Noah asks me, confused, after a deadly silence of thirteen minutes and five seconds.
"I was the last one to see him, before he died," I tell him, pulling away from his body.
He waits for me to continue as he looks at me.
"There's another reason why I got affected by his death worse than anyone. It was because everything happened in front of me, Noah. I saw him die.
"We went to London to visit him. Colt's mom is grandpa's goddaughter. So, they came along with us, too. 13th of February 2012. I was with Grandpa that day. Mom and Dad had left me with him as they had some important hospital work to do. Suddenly, he requested me to take him outside in the park..."
"Grandpa, you aren't so..." I trail off, looking at him. I am sitting beside his bed on the stool.
He raises an eyebrow at me, looking stern, even in his fragile state. "So?"
"Healthy would be the word."
He lets out a weak laughter and holds my hand. "Iry, you wouldn't do that for your dying old man?"
"Grandpa, you are not going to die. You are immortal so that you see me dance, play soccer and beat the boys' asses."
"Arses." He corrects me, smiling.
"Okay, how many times I h-"
"Give me a break, Iry. I am not an..." He coughs a bit. "... American."
"But Grandpa-"
He smiles and puts his hand on my cheek. "Do this for your best man?"
"Grandpa, I..."
"Break some rules. Live a little." I look at him, surprised.
"Did Vincent Henry Harrington just say-"
"Iris Katherine Cooper."
"First, I do not have a middle name. Second, fine, Grandfather, I will take you. I have gotten stronger, you know."
I help him on his wheelchair, and he smiles at me.
"Taller too, Iry."
Thirty-six minutes and five seconds later, we are walking on the path of the park, in the hospital when he, suddenly, holds my hand.
"Yeah, Grandpa?" I sit in front of him.
"Iris, you should know that..." He breathes in.
"Grandpa, we need to go-"
He puts up a frail finger up to stop me as I can see, slowly, his breath intake is increasing. "I have to tell you that I love you and your love and passion for dance. Don't ever give up on..." He breathes in, deeply, now.
"Grandpa, we have to-"
I stand up to take him, but he holds me tightly.
"No. No. No. Let me complete, honey. Don't ever give up on that dream of yours. I want to see you on stage, showing your... passion to people, and people falling... in love with your gr... grace. If that's not it, do any...thing you love but never stop. Never... stop..."
His grey eyes are rolling up into the lids as he starts to breathe, faster, with every increasing second. His hands are practically shaking so much to a particular level that it feels like an earthquake.
That moment I realize it isn't anything like he has experienced. It is much worse.
His breathing has heightened so much as I rush into the hospitals, calling out doctors and nurses.
Within ten seconds, they make him rush into some room. To be beside him, I enter into the room, sneakily, and by some luck, no one saw me.
In that dimness, everyone forgets about the nine-year old girl looking at her grandfather in the corner of the room, telling him that everything is fine, and he is fine.
But that's the thing.
102 seconds. After 103, I don't hear a single sound in the room.
Everything just stops. The beeping of the machines stops. His breathing count stops and I just know.
***
Now, I look at my trembling hands and feel my breathing count increase. "Next thing, I knew it was black as I tried to get out of the room. I couldn't see anything else. I heard Dad and Mom last... then, I didn't. That was a panic attack.
"I felt like a part of mine was slowly being ripped away piece by piece. Someone so close to you is just being taken away from you in a snap and all you can do is see. I hated it. I really hated it."
His knuckles wipe away the tears from my face as I continue, "It is more than grief. It's guilt that has been eating me up for eight years, Noah. I could have saved him if he had said no. I co-co-could have."
Grandpa had promised me. He had promised me he wouldn't leave me. He would always keep me safe and I couldn't even keep him alive.
I take a deep breath, feeling his intense gaze on me.
"I have accepted that he is gone... and I am so sure he must be having a blast there in heaven. But..." I look at the sky. "The emptiness... is just there."
"He was a great man, Noah. Really great," I tell him, wiping my tears.
Noah smiles, softly. "I would have liked to meet him."
I laugh. "I don't know if you both would have killed each other or, liked each other."
I sigh.
"I don't share much, Noah, because I can't. People are concerned about me but I don't want them to be concerned about me. I want to tell them that I can support myself, but I sometimes can't. Other times, I feel like I have been hogging up my life on them so much that..."
"That when they need help, they don't come to you?" he whisper-asks me.
"Yeah and I don't want them to feel like that. My Mom is the strongest person I know. She is like an amazon warrior. She lost both of her parents, but she carries herself with confidence while I am scared of so many things. I am scared of needles and I am terrified of people staring at me. I hate if I tell them about my life, they will see that broken girl and pity me. I hate that," I say, looking away from him.
Five minutes of silence lay between us as both of us gather our thoughts together. Suddenly, an alarm goes off from Noah's phone. He looks down at it and at me.
"It's starting."
I look up at the sky and I am awe-struck.
The electrifying streaks of lights illuminate the sky. Slowly, one by one, I see the meteor showers and it makes me realize that not everything is supposed to be permanent.
All my seventeen years, I thought I needed something permanent in my life, to keep me glued together. Grandpa had been that person, that influence for me to keep myself going and not turn back but I did. For every forward step, I take three back because I was scared and anxious, after he died.
Permanent is something that we have in present, not always.
I want to remember Grandpa but I don't want to hold on to so much that, one day, I see his star falling.
I love him and I will always do.
But, now, it is time to move on.
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- a u t h o r ' s n o t e -
first: happy diwali to all those who celebrate!
second: sorry for the late update. i was writing, studying and listening to music-a basic student life... couldn't ask for anything ✨more✨.
until next chapter,
Inerys
ps: listen to honey by khelani (it is ahmazingggg)