Closure (bxb)

thirty-eight

i'm trying to be cool about it

feeling like an absolute fool about it

wishing you were kind enough to be cruel about it

telling myself i can always do without it

knowing that it probably isn't true

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

"And you have no clue who might have sold the story? You're sure?"

"Noah," Mason sighs on the other end of the line, "This most likely wasn't done by someone either of us know. It was probably a police officer who was bribed by some sleazy journalist into giving up the contents of your case. And they clearly did their due diligence because they got that quote from someone we apparently went to high school with. I promise you," he says, "no one we know would do this to you."

"Okay," Noah whispers. "Okay. I'm sorry for accusing you, I just— I have no clue what to do."

"Your team is dealing with it. And so is Elijah's. They're doing all the worrying for you so you don't have to," Mason assures him. 

The sound of a notification causes Noah to pull his phone away from his ear. 

From Arlo. Strange.

"One second, Mason," he murmurs absentmindedly. "I got a text."

It's a link to an article. Oh, Noah's had just about enough of that these past few weeks. It's followed by a simple text - 'Thought you should see this.'

"I'll call you back, Mase." Noah hangs up abruptly.

'Setting the Record 'Straight': Elijah Beckett Addresses Allegations.'

How couth. 

Noah's eyes are sharp as pins, scrolling through the article at extraordinary speeds, taking in every single word like a punch to the gut.

High school. Legal Action. Allegations were proven to be false.

Okay. Nothing horrible yet.

Reiterate. Noah Simone. Just friends. Supporting him through these tough times.

Oh.

Mia Davis. Personal. Was never pregnant. Privacy.

Well, fuck.

Olympic Trials. Montreal. Excited. Training. Results.

Noah can't keep doing this. He doesn't know how much longer he can sustain it. He dissociates enough as it is, he doesn't need Elijah fucking Beckett confusing him further with these two versions of himself he tries to balance. Hot and cold. Up and down. Day and night.

Because they really were trying. Or at least they had agreed to start trying. They were going to take things slow and mend their relationship into something worth treasuring.

And Elijah threw that away at the first sign of trouble. 

And the worst part is, they've had this conversation before. They've had it so many times, in so many versions with no real conclusion. No real agreement that Elijah will ever come out or that Noah will ever be okay with that. And the reminder of that, the vehement desperation in Elijah's words as he firmly states, again, that he and Noah are not dating makes Noah feel like a clay sculpture being hollowed out with a carving knife.

Yearning has turned to hope has turned to sorrow and now?

Pure fucking fury.

Okay, Noah thinks. My turn.