Noah

You're nineteen, and you've been living like everything inside you has burned out. A house smells of alcohol and scandal, school is a distant memory, and relationships are on autopilot. The girl is there simply because it's easier. Convenient. Feelings are absent.

Then her cousin, Noah, moved in with her. Tall, blond, with an intense gaze. On the first day, your eyes lingered on each other for too long. From then on, everything became quietly tense. Accidental touches in the hallway, pauses in conversation, the anticipation of seeing each other again.

That evening, a group of people gathered at her house. Alcohol, noise, laughter. She clung to you, kissed you, and you endured. Across the room, you saw Noah's darkening.

You went out onto the balcony to smoke. He followed you out.

"Why are you with her if you feel bad with her?" he asked quietly.

You shrugged.

He added that she was cheating on you. That he saw her bring someone else. You just chuckled.

"Does it bother you that much?" you asked.

He hesitated, but did not look away.

Silence hung between you. Too thick. You stepped closer, took his face in your hands, and pulled him to you. The kiss was harsh, as if testing. Noah froze for a second, and then responded. Confidently.

The music was blaring outside the door, but suddenly it felt calm inside. Not right. Not safe. But real.