𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗥 | the boys 2

𝘪𝘷) 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒?

They hadn't moved. The curtains were the same as they'd always been and the name 'Perez' was still painted on the green mailbox she used to hide behind when she was little. She recognised the faded stickers on the bedroom window and smiled to herself - as if nothing had changed in seven years. Rowan scrambled up the drainpipe and clasped the window ledge, letting out a small squeak when she slipped on the decaying wood. After about a minute of struggling and helplessly dangling from the window, she managed to pull herself up and crouched by the glass.

On the other side, lay a boy with cloudy, curly hair snoozing on the washed out, blue pillow. She tutted to herself upon finding the window open and squeezed right through the crack and crept with light footsteps between his legs on the mattress to sit at the side, watching him for a moment before she realised how sketchy that sounded out loud.

"Noah... Noah, wake up." She whispered close to his face, smirking as he began to stir. Rowan sat back to give him some space to wake up, crossing her legs on top of the sheets.

"What the f..." His voice just left when he saw her sitting there, like nothing had ever happened. Tears filled his eyes - she looked... okay. Curiosity rushing through his head, Noah sat up, discouraging the clicks and aches in his joints, and carefully reached for her face. As soon as his fingers traced the skin on her cheek, Rowan immediately pulled him into a long-awaited, painful, but triumphant hug.

The friends stayed glued together in what previously remained as silence before the effect of being apart so long and the remembrance of the years drowned in hurt consumed the both of them. Rowan was at a loss for words - after all, what could she say that would make up for six years of him believing she was dead, and then bumping into her at Penn Station? Whereas, Noah was just beyond relief to know she was here. He squeezed her tighter when he felt her beginning to tremble and sniffle into his shoulder.

"Hey, it okay, it's okay." He whispered and cradled her head. This only made her feel worse, though, because he was the one left in limbo - he was the one who really suffered in their friendship from her escape. After a good ten minutes, they finally peeled apart, both with red eyes and blotchy skin. "Please tell me I'm not dreaming," Noah beamed, still with hands on her shoulders and pushed himself to whisper without crying even more,"I don't think I could handle it if you weren't really here." Rowan stared helplessly into his deep eyes, their only light being served by the street lamps and stars on the other side of his window.

She instinctively put her fingers up against his cheek and muttered,"I'm here."

With that promise made, he pressed his forehead urgently against hers - they were so close, their noses grazed unintentionally. All relationships with this girl who was supposedly dead for seven years were hard to quantify - a complicated, childish, Father/Daughter mess, a mute, mutual understanding with a woman who taught her silently about being a girl, and now a forgotten friendship with a boy who had just hugged her so tight, breathing became struggled.

Noah finally pulled away and kept his face so close their foreheads and noses were still connected."...It's so nice to see you, Ro. I missed you so much and now things can go back to normal-"

"No, it can't." Rowan interrupted, pulling away and no longer looking him in the eyes.

"What? Why not?" He panicked.

"There is no normal anymore. The shit that's happening..." She sighed, feeling him grab her hand before suggesting,

"We should talk."

"Fine, but where's Bagels? I missed him, too." She quizzed, looking around expectantly.

"He's downstairs," Noah chuckled,"I'll go get him." He disappeared out of the wooden door, leaving her to gaze fondly around the room - a few pieces of furniture had been replaced and moved around, but it was basically the same.