Happier (Michael x Noah)

EC

I look over my shoulder as I walk toward the concession stands, looking for Noah. I keep losing him every few minutes since he's so much slower than me. It's really stressful, having to stop and check where he is every two minutes. Right now, he's a few feet behind me, so I stop and wait for him to catch up. Once he does, he chuckles and ruffles my hair, making me cower and step to the side.

"Why do you always wait for me?" Noah asks me, a slight chuckle in his voice. "I'm always with you, whether I'm right next to you or five feet behind you."

I hesitate, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt underneath my jacket. "N-No reason. I just... I just like to stay close, I guess."

He looks at me, skeptical, but shrugs it off. "Whatever you say," he replies before he turns to look at the concession stand. "What do you want to eat?"

I shrug. "I'm not very hungry, s-so I guess a soda should suffice."

"Bullshit," Noah calls as he crosses his arms over his chest. "You didn't have lunch or dinner yesterday, and you also didn't have breakfast this morning. You've got to be starving."

Crap. He knows. Doesn't he? There's no hiding anything from Noah. He sees everything. He knew that Mom was abusing Dad way before Dad even told him. He knew that Max had wanted to learn ASL before Max even dared to ask Dad to take lessons. He knew that Addie had ADHD before it even occurred to Mom and Dad that she was neurodivergent. He most definitely knows about my most recent... issue...

"I-I'm fine," I promise him, anxiously picking the skin around my fingernails.

He frowns and sighs, immediately making me nervous. I'm not in trouble, am I? I don't want to be in trouble. I hate being in trouble. Being in trouble means that I get hurt. I don't want to get hurt. I hate getting hurt. Getting hurt reminds me of the bad years. I hate those reminders. I wish that I could just forget the bad years.

"Are you okay?" Noah asked worriedly, grabbing my hand as he pulls me over to the side so we aren't in the middle of the walkway. "You're shaking. Do you need your headphones or a sensory toy?"

I shake my head. "N-No, I'm fine. It's a little loud, but it's nothing that I can't handle."

"Then why are you shaking?"

"It doesn't matter." I pull my hand out of his grip and step away from him. "C-Come on, let's just get the food and go."

"E, what's going on?" he asks softly. He offers a sad smile, frowning when I don't return it. "You know that you can talk to me, bud. I'm always here to listen and help."

"I know, it's just that..." I sigh when my words trail off. "It's complicated. You wouldn't understand."

He laughs. "Have you met your father? If I can understand his problems, I think that I can understand yours."

"EC? Noah? What are you guys talking about? What problems?" somebody says from behind me.

I shriek, surprised, and cower behind Noah. But when I realize that it's just my father, my face flushes with embarrassment as I step out from behind Noah.

"Is something wrong, E?" Dad asks, frowning.

I look away, hesitant to answer.

"Do you want a hug?" he asks softly, holding his arms out.

I nod my head and wrap myself around him in a tight hug. He chuckles and hugs me in return, softly rubbing my back.

"What're you doing here?" Noah suddenly asks, his voice full of curiosity. "Did you need something?"

"Yes. Yes, I did," Dad responds. He pulls away from our hug and carefully brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes, careful not to touch me. "Could I talk to you for a moment, Noah?"

"Yeah, of course."

"We'll be right back, okay?" Dad says, turning to me. After I nod my head in understanding, he offers a small smile and kisses my forehead before he and Noah walk off.

The minute he starts to turn around, his expression morphs into one of disappointment and irritation.