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Noah was getting back from Milan to see Finn. It had been a long flight, around ten hours of waiting for his boyfriend.
Now, only a few people knew they were dating, nothing too crazy. There was their family, Caleb, Millie, Gaten... okay, there were a few people who knew they were dating. He noticed people on the internet were catching on to them and pulling up old interviews and their shared wardrobe.
Noah thought it was a bit funny, really. Because it was their little secret that wasn’t so secret.
Their nights in the trailers after dark, their first few glances of something besides Will and Mike, turning into Will and Noah. He felt like it was on cloud nine with him. Which is what he was flying over to New York.
He was ready for the scene— He would follow Finn to his hotel, purposefully getting spotted by paparazzi and then get caught at brunch with him (Noah wearing that ugly ass sweater with a kitty on it. He liked it because it was Finn's).
He couldn’t handle what he saw when he landed. He pulled out his phone, the SNL having been over for around an hour now. He noticed a missed call from Millie, a bit confused. He decided to call back.
He placed the phone between the side of his face and his shoulder as he grabbed his bag, exiting the plane.
“Hey, Millie,” He greeted lightly when she picked up, “What is it? Wanted to know how I landed?” He laughed, but she cut him off.
“Noah,” She huffed, “Have you seen the SNL skits yet?” She asked him.
“Uh, no. I haven’t. Did Finn say something embarrassing?” He laughed to himself once more, walking out to the busy airport, hidden under a teal hoodie that didn’t belong to him, his bag slung over his shoulder, and he held his phone now.
“...Sort of.”
“Sort of?” He repeated. What did that mean?
“Remember how you said if he agreed to a skit of Will—” He gasped, already rushing to the exit, his breath catching.
“Don’t tell me.”
“It was bad, Noah.” She told him over the phone, anxiously picking at her phone case that was slightly broken near the speaker. “Just… watch it when you can. And please, don’t do anything dumb.”
“Wait, Millie, I’m worried now,” Noah told the woman as he looked around, finding a black SUV to step into.
His driver turned to him, her voice calm. “Hotel?” But he shook his head.
“Just… just go somewhere else for now.” He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, his hood falling off.
“You should be!” Millie whined from the phone, “It is bad! How could he agree to that? And then they make a joke about Max being in a coma—”
“Okay, I’m just gonna watch it.” Noah sighed, “Call you in a bit, Babe.”
“‘Kay, love you.” She worried over him, and he chuckled, a bit nervous himself.
“Love you too.” He hung up, already opening his secret Twitter account to find the clips— No, he wouldn’t be calling it X.
The first few tweets were about fashion week, which was actually what he was interested in. He clicked to search, ‘Finn Wolfhard SNL Skit’. The first thing that came up was a three-minute clip.
He smiled softly at first, seeing Finn messing around with some woman in a jersey and a group of guys. He scrolled to the next one, finding something about Stranger Things.
His smile stayed until Will was brought up, and dropped when he noticed what it was about.
“Oh, the fuck he did not!” He shook as the scene progressed, and he only got more upset about the max comment. Why did they agree to this?
He quickly searched for more and more. Some things were about Noah being missing and how happy they were, some were about how Finn shouldn’t have agreed to it, and others were laughing at the skit.
Noah wasn’t laughing.
He gave Finn a very clear rule: don’t let them bring up that scene. Finn knew how that scene made Noah uncomfortable, how he had a panic attack while filming under the Duffers, who only sought to embarrass him.
Now, he knows he is not Will; Will is a fictional character. But after playing the same character for nine years, one grows attached. Will was a complex, accurate character who had helped him realize his own sexuality and made it easier.
And all of his character was made to be the butt of jokes now that he had that awful coming-out scene. He knows he should’ve fought them on it; no one had liked the idea, anyway.
Noah pressed around on his phone, sending an angry message to Millie, and wanted to call Finn. To tell him, “Why the fuck did you do that?! That’s embarrassing! Do you not care about me?” Which did he? He was persistent in not letting others know about them publicly, but was willing to fuck him and make him forget about anything and everything.
He was there when Noah had hard days, and loved him just as much when he had easy days, too. He was a perfect boyfriend— almost. Now, Noah wasn’t so sure he was everything he wanted.
He flew from Milan, turned down handsome models who genuinely seemed interesting, and flew ten hours to see his lover. Did it matter anymore? The love songs, the sweet, stolen kisses they shared between sets?
He looked up from his phone, from the caller ID that read “Finn Baby” with a blue heart emoji next to it. He frowned as he looked at them in McDonald's.
“Uh,” He started, but was silenced by the driver.
“I ordered you a McDouble and iced coffee.” She gave a small, reassuring look. He relaxed slightly, giving a nod.
“Remind me to pay you more.”
“Well, technically, your manager pays me.”
“Still. You’re amazing.” He sighed, leaning back as she reached for the food, giving it to him in the back. He grabbed the coffee quickly, gulping down the cold, bitter drink that would only make him more anxious.
What was he to do? Does he say something now, or go back home? Back to Milan? He would already miss fashion week day two for a man who poked fun at something hard for him.
Well, he didn’t poke fun at it, but he didn’t stop it. Noah knows he was given the script beforehand; he was in bed next to him when he first got it. Maybe it was added later, he tried to rationalize, but he knew it only made him more upset.
“Where to next?” The woman asked, pulling into a parking spot.
He knows Millie said not to do anything, but he had a feeling he knew what needed to be done.
“Do you know where Studio 8H is?” He chuckled.
They got there after a bit, and once there, he knew Finn was still inside. Fans stood outside, but he didn’t care. He wiped his face and put on some Chapstick, stepping out.
Almost instantly, he heard people call out to him. Some gasped. All were ignored as Noah approached the doorman.
“Hi, I’m here—” He started, unable to finish. Why was everyone cutting him off? The big doorsman spoke in a gruff voice.
“Sorry, you aren’t allowed in.” He told Noah, who looked up at him with wide eyes.
“...Are you serious?” He looked up at him with wide eyes.
“I can only let in names on the list.” He told Noah, “No matter how famous someone thinks they are.”
Noah stared at him for another moment, knowing phones were around. He needed to play this off, not let his emotions get in the way. He stepped closer to the man.
“Look, I need to go in there and find Finn Wolfhard so I can shove my fist up his ass. And this time, he won’t like it. Neither will you when I bend you over right there. So you’re gonna let me in, okay?” He pulled back from the whispering, smiling sweetly up at the paled man.
“Uh… yeah, okay.” He coughed, opening the door for Noah.
Since he was in now, he looked around at the back studio set. He walked down a few hallways, getting near some dressing rooms. People were scattered everywhere, but the door was clearly Finn’s, with a sloppy paper on the door that read his name.
He approached it, trying to think about how he’d go about what he wanted to do. Maybe he could talk to Finn; maybe it would be civil.
He knocked a few times, to an answer of, “Hold on!” He stood with his arms crossed.
When the door opened, he saw a smiling Finn— and the smile only grew when Noah was there. “H-hey, Noah!”
“Hi, Finn,” Noah mumbled, glaring up at him. “Mind if I come in? Thanks.” He pushed the taller man out of the way. He looked around the dressing room, finding it mostly bare and lacking personality. Which he had expected.
“What… I thought, uh, you were coming over later, at the hotel…” Finn stumbled over his words, closing the door behind him as he walked closer to Noah, who faced the lit mirror.
Finn got behind him, rubbing Noah’s arms with his hands, leaning down to give the man a few kisses to his cheeks, then his neck. Fuck, did it feel good, great even. Who was he to lie? Finn was a great kisser— even if Millie said otherwise.
No, he had to focus.
“Finn, not— not now.” He turned around, getting some distance between them.
“Why?” He frowned.
“Seriously? Do you not know?” He rubbed his temples, already finding a migraine coming up. “The skit! The... the coming out skit!”
“Oh, that.” He hummed, “Well, I didn’t write it, and I kinda thought it was funny.” He started.
“No, it wasn’t! You know how those “jokes” make me feel, Finn! It was a dick move!”
“Hey, I didn’t make the joke! I thought it would be okay!”
“Well, you sure as hell didn’t stop it! You could’ve.” Noah felt his heartache, watching how much Finn truly didn’t care. “I can’t believe you. How… How could you do that to me? To us?”
“It was a joke about Will, Noah.” Finn tried defending again, but he knew it was piss poor. He had to have known his boyfriend wouldn’t like it.
A joke, sure,” He laughed, it was empty and dry, “guess what? This whole relationship has been a joke to you, too, I guess!”
“What?” Finn looked taken aback, “You know that isn’t true, Noah— Baby, come on.”
“No! Stop lying to me. I can clearly see what you are and what you find funny. If making fun of me is funny, then…. Then screw you! Screw us! We are through!”
Finn rolled his eyes, not taking Noah seriously. “You aren’t seriously gonna break up over this, are you?”
“Yeah, yeah, I am!” Noah flung his arms in the air, “Because it is jokes like this that continuously make gay men the butt of the joke, and really backwards from SNL, given the rise of fascism and homophobia in America.” He turned to you, yes, YOU, because it is that serious. A joke doesn’t stay a joke forever, and it’s funny how it’s only ever targeted at gay men.
He turned back to Finn, pointing a finger at him, “And you enabled it, as if you aren’t fucking me! As if you aren’t gay!”
“I am, but it’s not that big of a deal. Look,” He sighed, “It wasn’t very funny… okay? But I got money, and I’m sure it’ll go away after a bit.”
Noah covered his face for a moment. His headache was getting worse the more he talked to Finn.
“We are through, okay? Don’t come by my place, don’t even mention me again. Or better yet, don’t mention Will.” He stepped away, but was grabbed by Finn’s hand on his forearm.
“I… I’m sorry, really, I am. I should’ve known it was bad and not, not right of me.” Fuck, his puppy dog eyes were killing Noah, but no, he needed to be strong.
“You embarrassed me on national television, Finn.” Tears, unexpected, formed in his eyes. “We are through. I deserve better than someone who only wants me at night or in between sets.” He pulled away.
“I love you, Finn, I do. But… this crossed a boundary I’m not forgiving.” Noah turned towards the door, walking over to it. Finn didn’t try to stop him again. He knew he made his choice, and he knew Noah would never forgive him— at least, not now or anytime soon.
“Wait, do you think… we can still be friends?”
Noah chuckled from the open door, “Friends? No thanks.” He turned his shoulder over to see the excited look on Finn’s face. “Exes. Never talk to me again.”
And so, Noah left, feeling a weight off his shoulders. He made sure to take a photo outside of Studio 8H with a few fans, just to tell the world he was there. When someone asked if he was there to see Finn, he laughed and turned to them.
“Yeah, goodbye.” Was all he left it at, making a few of them gasp. They had to have known, if not them, then Twitter would understand.
As if Finn could embarrass Noah when he had a model on his phone, already sending pictures of himself in Milan. He needed a flight back immediately, needed to get back to the after parties.