Week Five: Thursday Night
Who: Noah (Narrative) When: Thursday Evening Where: Noah's Room (House of Fire)
Fucking ridiculous. And he wasn't talking about the stupid gossip rag. He was talking about himself. The fact that he gave two shits about it. That was what was fucking ridiculous. It wasn't like Noah wasn't used to being in the public eye. Not like a celebrity or anything to that extent, but he had spent a few years with his actions being scrutinized by a few too many people. And yet here he was... pissed the fuck off that someone had taken it upon themselves to write some bullshit about his life for all to see.
Prying where no one needed to pry and it pissed him off. Perhaps irrationally so, but he was a private person. And private he was, to the extent that it was something more than a fault. It sometimes made all too many of his decisions. Noah knew it, but wasn't sure he wanted or more importantly could change that fact. It was the bed he'd made...
Noah had long ago shut off his computer. Slammed the lid of the lap down harsher than he would have liked to have done but no matter how much he tried to control it, he had a temper. It was that temper that was the very reason for all of this. Noah pushed away from his desk and threw some t-shirts in the general direction of his laundry. But it wasn't quite satisfying enough. He paced, that was his usual m.o. Not that it actually did much of anything other than give him something to do.
Hands clenched and unclenched. He wasn't glaring at that guy, her southern romeo or whatever they wanted to call him. He wasn't. In fact he was making a pointed effort not to. Fuck. It wasn't like he had any reason to be glaring at him. Nat was his best friend and it was all she was ever going to be. The only thing she could be. Didn't really matter that he didn't often think about her in a purely friend capacity. It wasn't about him. He just couldn't trust... couldn't trust that he wouldn't become his father. He saw it in himself all the time. He was protective of Natalia. Still wanted to go back to New York and beat the guy that had hurt her until he couldn't take another breath. It wasn't even that though, he just didn't want anyone else to touch her and that was what scared him.
Too protective.
Only a few short steps away from him being the man that he grown up hating and wanting to be the very opposite of... he couldn't do that to Natalia and he couldn't do that to himself. His father had always said he loved his mom, loved her so much that he just couldn't stand to see her talking to other men, she was always trying to leave him. Always had a reason. Always. Noah couldn't let htat happen. So instead he would watch as she was happy with someone else and he do it because... as he stared in the mirror in his room he could see his father smirking face.
Maybe he wasn't any different than the old man, like his father had so loved to tell Noah. But as his hand ached and a few drops of blood hit his dresser... at least he couldn't see his face in that mirror anymore.