Chapter Text
The first few days after he and William moved in were peaceful.
The flat was old, small—the kind where the floor creaks under your steps and the paint’s coming off the walls—but it was enough for the two of them. For the first time, they could say something was truly theirs. And the best part was, it was something they were going to look after together.
They had finally left behind that house—a place that, for as long as they could remember, only ever gave them bad memories. Memories that still crept into their dreams at night like shadows that wouldn’t go away.
Sometimes Noel got overwhelmed just thinking about it. The beatings. The screaming. The look on their dad’s face—he still remembered it in perfect detail, and it made him want to throw up, scream, smash something.
He’d spent years trying to pretend it wasn’t that bad, like it didn’t matter. Part of him refused to feel like a victim, like some coward. He had to face it head-on. Just like his mum told him once—after he’d shouted at his dad during one of those nights, only making everything worse.
He could still feel the tears from that night, running endlessly down his cheeks, burning hot like they’d never stop. He could still feel the knot in his throat, the twisting pain in his gut, that unbearable mix of rage and sadness that left him shaking.
But it got worse after their mum died. Everything did.
The memory of her lifeless body hanging in the kitchen never left him. It haunted him. And what made it worse was that he never even saw it with his own eyes. He didn’t get to be there. He didn’t get the chance to do what she’d once asked him to—he didn’t get to face it.
He’d been walking home from a mate’s house that day. As he turned the corner and saw the flashing lights—police cars, an ambulance parked outside—it felt like the world dropped out from under him.
And it did.
He remembered William, throwing his arms around him, holding on so tightly, crying into his jacket like he was the only thing left. Because he was.
Noel had held him back, keeping his face pressed into his chest, shielding him as best he could. His own face looked steady, calm even—but his eyes were frozen on the scene, wide and panicked, holding back tears that never came. His limbs were shaking. It felt like he’d fall apart any second.
But he couldn’t. He had to take care of his brother. Even if he had just lost his mum too.
A tear dropped onto the plate Noel was washing. The sound of water and ceramic pulled him back. He hadn’t even noticed he was crying. He wanted to stop it. He tried.
But it was too late now.
The tears kept coming, blurring his vision. That tightness in his throat returned, pressing down into his chest and stomach.
He dropped the plate and the sponge into the sink, leaning forward with both hands gripping the edges. His body folded over the basin, shoulders heavy, eyes shut tight. He tried to wipe his face on his sleeve, but the tears wouldn’t stop. His chest hitched with the sound of his own quiet sobs. He fought to silence them.
He didn’t want William to see him like this. Because if William heard even a breath of it, he’d know. And Noel didn’t want that. Didn’t want him remembering that day.
“Noel...”
He heard the voice behind him. William. Quiet. Worried. That soft, broken tone he only used when something was really wrong.
Noel’s throat closed. He pulled his hands away from the sink, wiping the tears off his face with the backs of his wrists.
“Y’alright?”
Noel took a breath and tried to steady his expression, even if the ache in his throat and stomach was still there. He picked up the plate and sponge again, went back to washing like nothing had happened.
He cleared his throat. His voice came out low, cracked, but solid enough. Painful, but sure.
“Yeah. I’m alright.”