Chapter Text
Noora
Her fingers tipped, not always hitting the keyboard letters, letting out a frustrated deep breath.
She wanted to pour her thoughts out. To specify and articulate her restless thoughts. One of the things
she was sure of was, that she knew how to use words. She believed in it.
„You need to believe in something in yourself" she thought, biting her nails absently .
She should've never mentioned the concert she joined Isak and Even on, last Saturday. Certainly, she wouldn't be
in this mess right now.
The editor of the small culture section of Samfunnsgeografen, a UiO newspaper she was
writing for, overheard her talking to a colleague while making a tee in the small kitchen.
He enthusiastically convinced her that this would be a great idea.
This was not her métier and surely not a great idea.
A discouraged sigh left her mouth.
William still sleeping next to her turned, and a searching arm was lifted and placed on her stomach,
almost hitting some letters of the computer keyboard himself.
He could write. Though most of the time he looked at her funny when she said so, or mentioned his 17. May article,
which he wrote for her.
Sitting and leaning against the wall of pillows behind her, she turned her head to look down. His cheeks slightly red
from sleep and his brown hair all messed up. She lifted her hand and
tenderly caressed the air on his arm. Moving up and down with light fingertips.
Though the curtains were shut, the bright morning light beamed behind them, lighting the room.
For a second she lost herself in the view before turning her head back to the screen.
He arrived late last night, and in a few hours they wanted to leave for their trip to Evas.
A nervousness her stomach, letting her feel stressed to get at least some work done
so she could relax during the coming three days.
This was almost as hard as writing an email to William, which she admittedly never send.
Back when he was still in London and herself being miserable in Oslo. Feeling like she left her damn heart there.
Her long fingers slowly moved on the touchpad, opening her mail account.
Knowingly. Having made this movements and clicks so many times. She knew what she was looking for.
A saved email.
Inbox (5)
Marked
Drafts (17)
William (1)
Sent (533)
________
From: William Magnusson
Date: 23. November 2016 at 03:32:07 MESZ
To: Noora Sætre <[email protected]>
[no subject]
Last night I knew what to say to you, to tell you, so you would've stayed. But you weren't there to hear it.
My thoughts can't move a fucking inch without bumping into you.
Sent from Iphone.
________
Nowadays this three-sentence email felt like an epic love letter, only revealing it's meaning to her.
When she opened it though, one and a half years ago, her movement froze. Blood leaving her fingers and hands.
Her eyes wide of shock. Staring at the small screen, her index finger trembling slightly above it.
Nooras heart cramped, blood rushing through her ears.
...so you would've stayed.
a fucking inch without bumping into you...
...you weren't there.
The blonde had read these lines hundreds of times.
Debated with herself to answer.
Arguing with Eskild whether they were sent on purpose, accidentally or drunk since the time stamp said half past 3 am.
She read it in the dark of her room, feeling sick to her core that he wasn't laying next to her. Not being
able to help herself, she pulled her mobile phone out of her jeans pockets during school, while standing
in the bathroom to re-apply her lipstick. Reading it and rereading it again.
Over the course of weeks she had firmly believed, convinced herself, that the hurt in his eyes when he
opened the letter of the court dismissal, the miserable feeling in the pit of her stomach when he left
in the morning, their silences which felt like slaps on her face - everything considered,
maybe should lead to the conclusion that they weren't supposed to be.
Maybe they were a mess that mattered profoundly but was unable to survive.
Hours of frowning at her computer screen followed. Sentences faster erased than even written.
Draft after draft saved.
She read a quote from Warsaw Shire: „Loving you was like going to war; I never came back the same."
in which she not willingly found herself, felt herself revolting. Her mind going on a rant with itself,
arguing for independence, but at the same time countering with a simple image of his face.
Eventually she stopped.
Not because the urgent need to talk to him had left her, or her missing him terribly. Making her daily movements
clouded with thoughts of him.
Or the fact that London was still the first city in her weather app, and she regularly checked the flights.
Her mind didn't win the debate.
She had heard that he had met someone in London.
Almost was never enough, she thought and the matter of the fact was, it hurt. It hurt exceptionally.
_____
From: Noora Sætre
Date: 13 May 2017 at 21:02:39 MESZ
To: William Magnusson <[email protected]>
[no subject]
Please don't.
Saved as a draft.
_______________________
„Hey you" Williams raspy morning voice snatched her out of her thoughts.
He'd watched her for a few minutes now, studying her face change from concentrated to lost in thoughts
and when a distinct expression of pain began to show he spoke up.
The blonde closed her laptop and set it on the bedside table. When she turned back to him he had lifted the white duvet
and invitingly made space for her. As she sank next to him, the remembrance of her sadness still creeping around in her mind.
„Good morning" he whispered in her hair, pulling her closer. Kissing her ears, her nose and her lips.
„William that's too tight" she laughed at his cheek, as she felt his warm arms squeezing her upper body way too firmly.