𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

i want my life in two [t.n]

i apologise in advance.

a request from -faithers- :) i hope you like it, joshie. rather short, but i hope it makes you cry like you wanted.

also, i'm sorry about any grammar issues, i wrote this in like- forty minutes. :)

fic title from ;; slowdancing in the dark - joji.

cw/tws ;; vague/slight mentions of death.

pairing ;; ted nivison/noah hugbox.

prompt ;; noah misses him.

final word count ;; 1.06k

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a hand gently shakes him awake, a disembodied voice echoes in his ear. “c’mon, noah, let’s get on the road!” his lover tells him, pulling on a hoodie and scooping keys off the table. noah follows quietly, half asleep, but he trusts this man with his life, and he never will not. they slide into the seats of a rusty pick-up truck and take off, racing down dark roads with large smiles on their faces, their road-trip playlists blaring through the speakers of noah’s truck.

the field is a ways away from their shared house, and whilst his lover drives, noah takes the opportunity to sleep, hands clutched around the light blue ipod he carries with him at all times, the one that the man in the driver’s seat bought him back in high school, earbuds nestled snugly in his ears and his lover’s jacket wrapped around his shoulders.

he wakes up when the truck shakes as his lover shuts the door, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. they’re far away from the loud noises of the bustling city, far away from wandering eyes and eager expectations they cannot keep up with, and it is heaven. noah grabs his hand and steps out of the truck, tugging him forward zealously, and the laugh that escapes the taller man’s mouth is more music than the lyrics trickling from his earbuds.

they lay out in the middle of the field, backs to the ground and heads directed upwards, the brunet pointing out constellations his lover has never seen before, hushed whispers shared between the two of them. an earbud is yanked from noah’s ear and, after being sufficiently cleaned off, pressed into the tallers, the chords of some obscure mgmt song playing softly through the tiny buds. it’s simply paradise, nothing else to it.

at some point, they shift, laying on their sides and facing each other. noah doesn’t have to say he loves his husband, it’s plainly clear in the way he reaches out to adjust the other’s glasses, to brush brown locks from his face, to cup his cheek and pull himself closer, and it’s surely plain to see. “i love you,” he says anyways, and red cheeks and an earnest smile are what he receives in return, as well as a kiss.

night turns to morning, they sit up and watch the sunrise, shielding their eyes as it becomes a little too bright for them. noah sits up first, pushing himself into a standing position and holding his hand out. the taller man takes it gratefully, grunts as he himself stands, brushing off his wrinkled jeans and stretching. he makes a quip about how laying on the ground for hours at a time isn’t good for his old-man back, and the expression just makes noah laugh (times were so simple back then, he wishes he could have them back).

sore bodies shuffle back to the truck, noah taking the driver’s seat now, plucking his keys from where they’re fisted in the taller man’s hands and turning on the truck, already ready to get on the road. before they get back home, he stops at the mcdonald’s, gently reaching out and shaking his lover awake, asking what he wants to eat. the taller brunet sits up and rubs his eyes, simply responding with, “the usual.”

maccie’s fries are shared between them, giggling lovers shoving the salty potato sticks into each other’s mouths, soft endearments whispered into the crisp morning air. his husband gently reaches out and tucks noah’s hair behind his ear, smiling softly and sleepily, and noah’s never felt more in love than he does now. the hand resting on his cheek moves back to his nape, pulling him closer, their lips almost touch—

waking up in the mornings is hard.

his bed is cold, an empty space where a lover used to sleep. everything around the house reminds noah of him, reminds him of the stupidly exuberant man who towered over him, who scooped him up and kissed him whenever he was sad, who comforted him, who was there when he needed him, who isn’t there now. the wounds noah carries around the house are open, bleeding onto the floor, staining the hardwood, but he doesn’t bother cleaning them up.

after all, it’s his fault his lover is gone.

there are some beautiful memories noah remembers of, the taller brunet kissing his forehead softly in the morning, reading to him during the days when he had a headache, taking him out for long drives and staying out all night, of getting mcdonald's at six in the morning and getting home in the late afternoon because they play around too much.

noah pulls on his jacket and grabs his keys, but it isn't to go on a road trip. he's got a mission to attend to. the rusty truck creaks, just like noah's broken heart, falling off the hinges and sinking into the ground. he feels as if he's suffocating, but he doesn't want to be dramatic, he just wants to see his lover again. driving down to the yard in which his lover is makes him smile bittersweetly, stopping the car and turning the engine off.

he grabs his ipod off the passenger’s seat and plugs his earbuds in, nestling the buds in his ears and sighing loudly, dark amber eyes directed towards the sky. he’s tired, but he needs to see him. he pushes open the gate, the man’s favourite song on loop from his ipod, making more saccharine memories flash through his mind, drinking soda with tangled legs on the couch, hands running through his hair and nails gently scraping at his scalp.

he yearns for those feelings again, for that touch again, but this is as much as he’ll get.

“hello, ted. surely, you’re doing well.” he sits down on the ground, bottom lip quivering as he tries not to cry. “i got out of the bed this morning. aren’t you proud of me? i’m proud of me.” he’s quiet, for a brief moment, awaiting a response he knows he'll never receive. "i miss you, you know." he goes quiet again, thoughts taking advantage of the silence and running wild.

"sometimes, i wish it was just a break up." he stares at ted, tears slipping down his cheeks.

ted's engraved name on the cobble slab stares right back at him.