Through the Screen

noah feels pathetic.

his eyes are glazing over every other second, and the taste of bitter alcohol is dissolving on his tongue. the fact that he has to resort to this toxicity to forget about his own husband is petty in more ways than just one, and he looks over at adrian's room to make sure that it's still locked.

he remembers the time when abel was buying different kinds of alcohol just to keep them against the far wall of their kitchen, unconsumed, and how noah was the one who wasn't in the favour of having such things when they had a child in their house.

today, he feels thankful for the brown whiskey swirling in his glass.

his eyes are fixed on the dimly lit screen of his phone, shuffling through contacts and trying to find someone, anyone, who he can talk to and let this restricted feeling out of his chest. he wants to cry and break things and lie down and eat all at once just to find the comfort that he can't find in his apartment.

thought of seeking revenge, to hurt abel as much as he's hurt him is blaring in bold dark colours in his brain. he wants to shake it out, to find some rationality or any explanation behind abel

and abel 's vague explanations are not doing anything to kill the wild suspicion. the thought of abel with another man in the chilled mornings and at the bewitching hours of the

his vision blurring just the slightest before he decides to dial a number that he was avoiding, and presses the cold metal against

slight confusion, as to why a stranger that he met in a bar is calling him at one am, but noah has no other

words are just as slurred as they were

no, not at all man, i was just reading something, what's up?"

to vent to, i don't know why i called you, i'm sorry," noah rambles nervously, the alcohol dying swiftly from his system as embarrassment replaces it, and he contemplates to just end the call and block the number so he doesn't

no, it's alright, you can talk to me if you want,