Noah's Love

Chapter 21: The Cost of Love

"Noah?" Claire called out, knocking on his apartment door. She had texted him earlier in the day, to make sure he was doing ok, but he hadn't responded. Rebecca hadn't answered her texts either. After failed attempts at calming herself down, she decided to give him a visit. Even though she hadn't known him that long, she couldn't stop herself from caring about him. If things had been different, he would have probably ended up being just a one night stand. But fate had allowed her to see Noah's vulnerabilities. In a city where it was hard to find a person who was ready to bare their soul, this was a breath of fresh air and Claire couldn't help gasp for more.

She knocked again. "Noah? Are you alright?"

There was some shuffling on the other side of the door before he finally opened. It looked like he'd just gotten out of bed but it was almost six in the evening. He had bags under his eyes, his hair were messy and he wore a grim look on his face.

"Hi," she greeted softly. "I just wanted to stop by and see how you were feeling."

He nodded and threw the door open in response. After briefly wondering how she got inside the building, he walked to the kitchen to grab some water.

As if she'd heard his thoughts, she said, "there was someone leaving through the front door right when I was about to buzz you, so I just entered. Now that I think of it, I don't even know if I should have done it. I hope you don't-"

"It's alright," he said, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat and asked, "do you want something to drink?"

"No," Claire responded politely. 

The kitchen, dining area and living room flowed together in Noah's apartment. It was all laid out in one open space, which usually gave his home an airy feel. Though, that evening Claire couldn't help but notice how messy it all looked. There was a blanket crumpled on the floor, used plates abandoned on the coffee table, a chair from the dining table was next to the couch at an odd angle and dishes were peeking out of the kitchen sink. 

It just needs a little tidying, she shrugged internally, turning to look at him. But then her eyes fell on a glass half full of amber liquid placed next to an almost empty bottle of whiskey.

"Have you been drinking?" she blurted without thinking.

A look over his shoulder was his only response, before he turned his back to her. He had his head bent and eyes closed as he gripped the kitchen counter tight enough to make his triceps bulge. 

Hesitating at first, she took slow steps towards him. When she was close enough, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Noah? Can you look at me?"

Again, he chose not to answer. She grabbed his right hand and loosened his steel-like grip. Using it as leverage, she tried to pull him and make him turn around. "Look at me," she repeated. 

"What?" He finally turned, looking annoyed. "Why are you here, Claire?"

"I told you. I was worried."

"Why the hell are you worried about me?" He asked, grabbing her arms, making her stumble closer. "There is no need to be worried about me, alright? I am fine!" Then he paused, repeating himself softly this time, "I'm fine." He released her, letting his hands fall to his sides, balled into fists. He took a deep breath and exhaled. "I'm ok."

"Then I'm here to be with you while you're...ok," Claire responded. She didn't exactly know the reason behind the pain in Noah's eyes, but she could guess.

He shook his head. "You don't need to waste your time."

"Is that what I'd be doing? Wasting my time?" She asked. Why would a guy as handsome and capable as Noah Miller think that spending time with him was a waste?