1.2 | Highway of Lights ✓

11 | scar

11
s c a r

An instant replay runs through my head: How Noah's mask slipped more than once today. I haven't been able to know who he truly is, but I'm way too skeptical to ask him any questions now.

Moments later, I begin, "What do you mean by—" I pause "—dangerous?"

Noah sighs and takes a sip of water from the plastic cup. "You know, when you were lost you wouldn't think that there would be a way out."

And that's true. But that might not be true as well—at least I had a way out when I was lost. Travelling was the only way out for me, but didn't Noah travel as well?

Before I want to say something because he stops speaking, our food has arrived. The red-haired lady that brings our food quirks one of her eyebrows up, and pours water into our cups.

"Tourists?" she asks.

"Oh, yeah." I reply with a nod, not getting used to the chit-chat.

She nods with a smirk. "Did you have fun?"

At this point I'm not sure where this conversation will go, but I proceed to give her another "yes" while looking at Noah, who is starting to eat his pasta.

The waitress laughs. "Good for you, just dealt with some major couple conflicts and I need a break."

She walks away without saying anything else, and I'm left confused by what conflicts she was dealing with.

I look back at Noah. "Um, where were we on?" I ask cautiously.

"Being lost," he replies, focusing on his food.

It's funny how he's the one who remembers what we were discussing about—he clearly didn't want to reveal too much about why he was lost.

"Yeah." I bite on my beef. "So you couldn't find a way out?"

I bite my lips as I feel like I'm pushing him, but he knows about my mother already, maybe it's acceptable that I want to know more about him too.

He puts down his fork and takes a piece of napkin. "Riley," he calls, his gaze soft.

I hold my breath. What is he going to say?

He continues with a faint smile on his face, "You know, there was always that one way out."

That one way out? My jaw slightly drops as I suck in a tiny amount of air.

"It was selfish, but yeah. I did choose the only way out. I thought it was the only way out, but—" he pauses and stares at me, his voice getting brittle as he brushes his scar  "—you know, the pain never gave me happiness at the end."

My head is throbbing as my eyes widen in shock, but I swiftly break away from Noah's gaze by looking down at my hands. His watch is still on my wrist, and this is the moment I notice that before he gave me this watch, it was used to cover his scar.

I snap my head up again. "So... so you did that to yourself?" My voice goes quiet as the certainty drains out of me.

He smiles at me and looks at the direction of the diner entrance. "Well I mean, it was ages ago, so don't worry about that."

So the scar is not an accident. It's actually him trying to harm himself.

"Noah, I—" I start talking again as I feel tears welling up in my eyes. Not because of anything, solely because of Noah. Somehow my heart just constricts when I imagine the pain he was feeling when he did that to himself. The feeling of despair when deciding to end your own life.

"I know what you're thinking, Riley," he says, his voice deep and gentle. "I'm okay."

It's crazy how he can read my mind. Perhaps a lot of people have asked him if he's okay before to the point that he has to stop me from asking. There's this desire in me, though, that wishes he would let me ask if he's okay—so I could care about him.

"So that's why you travelled?" I ask.

He raises a corner of his lip. "Probably. Therapies worked, but travelling worked better."

"How did your parents allow you to go by yourself when you're... you know—" I pause midway, not wanting to say anything before I'm entirely sure of what has happened to him.

He shrugs. "What could they do? Lock me in the basement?"

I'm supposed to laugh, but I press my lips and frown instead.

"I'm like a switch, Riley. I'm dangerous," he says again. "Nothing could stop me from doing that if it comes back."

And I know what he's talking about. You can only put the thoughts away, but they're never gone.

"I'm sorry, Noah," I say, my voice shaking. "I shouldn't have asked."

"You deserve to know," he replies with a smile. The smile is tired, fatigued, but it's genuine.

I stare into his eyes, and my heart does a weird flip. I think of how he gave me his watch that was used to cover his vulnerability, the fact that he told me that I deserve to know about his past. Maybe I'm just overthinking, but I still press my lips together to stop myself from smiling.

Why exactly would he pick me, though? Out of everyone? I think of how I hopped onto the car with Noah without really thinking much.

When I told him about my mom on the Canyon, the warmth and relief within felt within me felt somewhat foreign—a feeling that I couldn't put into words. But now that I look at Noah, him telling me about how he really got lost—I realize that after today, I'm somewhat not so lost anymore. I found my destination with him.

And perhaps, Noah is trying to find his with me now, too.

As I continue to put the grilled beef into my mouth, a fork appears and carries a piece of it away. I snap my eyes toward Noah and see him eating it.

"Hey!" I break out a small laugh, the atmosphere became lighter than it was.

"You can have mine too if you want," he says, pointing at his pasta. He is acting normal now, not normal like Noah, but normal compared to him a few minutes ago.

I shake my head with a smile. "No, I— I'm all good."

Maybe it's because of how heavy the conversation was, maybe it's because of how the bright lights inside the diner can't replace the darkness outside the diner, maybe it's because of how we're both too exhausted after today's trip—we stay silent. We just listen to the hustle and bustle of the diner while trying out each other's food, thinking about what's going to happen next.

"Where are we staying tonight?" I decide to start a new topic.

He takes out his phone again. "There should be plenty of motels around, I'll check now."

But after tonight, what are we going to do? Is that it? This is just, after all, a whirlwind day in the Grand Canyon of two travellers.

"Got it, there's a motel near this town, that should work for tonight," Noah says when he shows me the phone screen.

I nod, my eyes focus on his face. As he puts his phone away, we stare at each other again. No one talks about what the plan will be tomorrow morning. Because we both know that the time will eventually come, but now is not the time to think about it.

Snapping my gaze away from him, I check out the clock on the wall. It's currently 7:50 PM.

Maybe tonight will be a long night.