Nochelle Oneshots

So Sick

*Set after a hypothetical Season 7 that carries on from Season 6 where Noah stays on the team—Jacquie too but she's not really mentioned—and they go to Nationals with Emily and Michelle*

Noah's Perspective:

Nationals changed everybody.

Everybody lost their will to learn and love dance. When we lost... it was almost like an eye opener for everyone. A bad one. Showing everyone that no matter how hard we worked, nothing would come of it. All of the drama and horrible things that happened behind the scenes, they didn't add up to anything.

We lost in the final round, to a studio that wasn't even very good. Everyone was sure that they cheated, but we couldn't prove it. It was unfair. What was the use of even going if we were just going to be hustled? There was none.

Everything fell apart after that. Nothing stuck, everything either faded away or dropped suddenly. Even relationships.

Piper and Amy drifted apart, Finn and Piper didn't last a week, Summer, Richelle, and Jacquie were back to hating each other. It wasn't good. Far from it.

Everyone was miserable. Getting out of bed was a struggle. Emily and Michelle and postponed rehearsals for weeks, and just never restarted them. There was no point. They knew nobody would come.

Piper still blamed herself for our loss. She'd messed up her newly-learned back handspring, landing on her head in the semifinals, causing us to have points deducted. We'd all tried to comfort her, telling her that it wasn't her fault, but deep down, no one was sure.

Without dance, a piece of everyone was missing, the piece that allowed them to cope with the world. But no one could go back to dance. It just wasn't manageable.

Those were the excuses that Richelle used when she ended it. Us, all that we had, for nothing. She didn't even go anywhere, do anything or move on. She stayed, but she said she couldn't stay with me.

"It's too painful," she'd said. "I can't be with you and forget about dance at the same time. If I need to leave, I have to leave you, Noah."

And her face was rock-hard. She didn't flinch, didn't blink, didn't even spike a small tear. It was as if she was a painting, not moving, but you could still see there was something inside.

Was it even hard for her? I always wondered. Did she ever even care? I didn't know.

I loved her with all of my heart, but she obviously didn't feel the same way. She left me at the drop of a hat.

"Please don't leave, Richelle!"

"I have to, Noah! You don't understand. Every time I look at you I see what could've been. I see our duets, I see the audience clapping, I see us kissing on stage! I can't relive all this. I'm done with dance. So I'm done with you. I'm sorry. I just can't do this anymore."

And she left. She packed up her suitcase, conveniently leaving her dance bag behind, and walked out the door of our shared apartment. I'd tried to call her, reason with her, but she didn't want to hear anything. She stopped returning my calls.

But I couldn't let her go. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get her out of my mind. She resided there, and at this point, I thought it would be permanent.

I got up from my chair and pressed the button. The same button I'd been pressing every 5 minutes for days on end.

"Hello, it's Richelle and Noah, please leave a message... Noah stop, you're tickling me!" She said, laughing.

"Riche, it's still recording," I reminded her in a whisper.

"Shi- anyway, thank you for calling, we'll get back to you as soon as we can, bye!"

I missed her voice. The little tinkle in her laugh like a bell. This was the only way I could hear it. The answering machine.

"Ugh!" I cried out. Why did this ever have to happen? We were so happy. Now we were broken in half.

My heart still felt like a piece of it was with her, carried to wherever she went. I almost wanted to go looking for her, but I knew I'd never find her.

A grabbed my coat and chucked my arms through it, not bothering to smooth out any wrinkles. But when I passed the entrance way, I stopped.

I needed to take that damn calendar down. Every time I looked at it, it destroyed me. Reminded me of a fantasy I thought I'd always have, and then opened my eyes back up to the reality I was living in.

July 15. The first date we went on. Our families had gone to Costa Rica together, as our parents were old friends, and I'd finally worked up the courage to ask her out. It took her a moment of hesitation to say yes, but when she did, it was unforgettable.

We even said the three magic words that night. I love you. And we meant it more than anything. When we went to meet our parents, they were so happy for us. It was the best night. But now, it meant next to nothing.

I couldn't celebrate an anniversary without a girlfriend.

When I got in the car to attempt to drive my sorrows away, the radio started playing immediately. And all that was on were love songs.

Love songs, about how relationships were amazing and unforgettable, and how they would last forever. I laughed with pity for the songwriters. That wasn't the case.

I was so sick of the love songs. And tired of the tears I had cried wishing that I was with her still. I needed to get over the hopeless wishing that she was still here, and going to walk in that door any moment.

Turning off the radio, I sighed. I was done too.