Through the Screen

Chapter 115: Epilogue Part 6

three years are apparently not enough for the silence to end because as soon as the initial surprise of

seeing abel 's apartment, and discovering every little detail of the boxy place—from the way abel still Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

doesn't make the bed when he gets out of it, or how the entire apartment is clean except for the mugs

that will always find their place somewhere in the corner of a coffee table, or the way he still puts the tv

remote in places he can't find—the couple cannot hold a conversation about anything even remotely

important when they are enclosed in the four walls that could make or break this reunion.

abel shifts uncomfortably on the other end of the couch, shifting his gaze just slightly to look at the way

noah seems completely unaffected by the distant between them, completely unaffected by how they

haven't even hugged each other despite of being away from each other for years, how he doesn't even

care enough to offer a conversation about what happened and what they are supposed to be and if

they are supposed to be something.

he feels completely out of place—he can't bring up his own mistakes, he can't bring up noah's

heartbreak, he can't bring up how shit of a father he was and how he wants to rejoin his own family and

be a better addition than he was all those years ago. earlier in the day he felt as if postponing this

conversation would be in their best interest but now as noah sits next to him, his lean body stretched

across the other end of the sofa as his eyes watch the screen intently—abel regrets putting it off for

later.

of course it hurt when he had to spend nights alone in this apartment and of course it took a lot, a lot of

time to get used to a different set of walls but right now, the incapability of just wrapping his arms

around noah's torso and crying into his chest and letting him know just how much abel has missed him

is causing a pain in his chest on a whole new level.

he has worked hard on how to control his emotions, how to deal with them, how to control his impulsive

nature—but all his recovery goes to waste in front of noah because there is only one person in the

entire world who he can expect to understand him fully—and that one person is doing absolutely

nothing to calm the chaos in his brain and the torment in his heart and in the usual abel roberts way of

handling things he doesn't know how to handle—the feeling of apathy contorts into anger and

aggression and pure adrenaline in his veins.

he tries to ignore it, the familiar heat in his chest, the more familiar watering of his eyes and he presses

himself firmly against the backrest and purses his lips, watching 28 days later with no conviction

whatsoever.

"i'm kind of hungry again, i think i'm getting really—abel? are you okay?" and abel can't answer the

obviously fake question because if he opens his mouth he is going to ruin everything with either a bitter

string of words or just the sour sobbing that he doesn't want noah to see anymore.

so he settles on the next best option and nods his head in agreement, shrugging his shoulders to

somehow convey his disinterest in noah's question.

"abel. . .what's wrong?" noah shifts closer and the air gets denser, barely finding its way into abel 's

lungs and he's really not used it because god—it's been a while since he's forgotten how to breathe.

and as soon as noah's fingers attempt to melt comfort into abel 's skin, the younger male snaps, both

metaphorically and literally as he pushes noah away and raises his hands up in defence because he

doesn't want any of this bullshit anymore.

if noah doesn't want to be with him, if noah has gotten over him then he doesn't have to pretend.

"you hate me," they were not the words that he wanted his mouth to slip, and neither did he want the

stream of tears to drip down his face, so he takes a deep breath and turns his back to noah before

running his hands frustratedly through his hair.

"i don't,"

"you do, you still hate me,"

"i don't abel, i never hated you, what are you even saying?"

"well someone has to say something noah, because you won't say anything!" he knows this is the

worst way of dealing with whatever they have right now—or lack of whatever they have right now—but

he can't do anything about it. nothing in his body makes sense when he's around noah, nothing in his

heart or mind or soul wants to be anything but himself.

"come here," and when fingers wrap around his arm and pull him back he shrugs them off, because he

can't admit that the majority of this. . .tantrum has been thrown because of the simple reason that he

misses noah and he can't do anything about it.

"no,"

"please?"

"y-you didn't even," he flushes, giving into noah's pulling and turning around to face him, his head tilted

down so he doesn't have to face the embarrassment of his actions. "you didn't even hug me," that

sentence coming from a twenty four year old man is depressing and embarrassing on a whole new

level.

and of course noah thinks the same because he bursts into a fit of giggles that cause abel 's cheeks to

flush further and he rubs his hands along his face to get rid of the redness. it does seem more than a

little bit petty to cry because your husband doesn't hug you but it's been so many years and so many

months and so many days and so many hours and so many minutes and so many seconds—abel was

bound to break sometime or the other. it was just one of the things that had the opportunity to trigger

him enough so that teardrops are racing down his flushed cheeks and mortification is stinging his

chest.

"really abel?"

"honestly fuck you," he gets off the couch, mostly to escape the humiliation that comes along with his

overly reactive emotions but the blush on his cheeks darkens incredulously when noah pulls him back

down, only for the younger male to land directly in his . . . lap.

"w-what?" noah doesn't answer with words, he just wraps his arms tightly around his waist and buries

his face in abel 's neck.

"what are y-you doing?" abel bites his lip, his arms going around noah's shoulders instinctively and

noah sighs softly before looking up at him, abel 's entire body erupting with the figurative butterflies that

make him almost vomit—in a good way—and he gulps through his loud heartbeat before reaching up

and pushing noah's hair further off his forehead.

"trying to get my husband back, what are you doing?"

"shut up," abel shifts closer to him, letting his chin rest on top of noah's head and letting his fingers

tighten around the back of noah's shirt. "spork,"