noah-donovan

[noah-donovan]

My bags are packed || Final Self-Para

[listen] Noah fumbled with his keys, the sweat on his hands making it difficult to grasp the smooth metal. The cool air inhaled into his lungs caused his heart to slow and his nerves to calm. Carefully, Noah unlocked the door and opened it, the metal creaking in the morning air. The last box sat on the sidewalk, undisturbed and lonely. The tiny box had been stashed away in the wardrobes of the various rooms he had resided in over his past years in New York. Anything that ever held true meaning to Noah was in there; a newspaper clipping from a proud father, his college acceptance letter, a ticket to Las Vegas, a goofy t-shirt sent all the way from Disneyland, the menu for a tried and trusted pancake house,  a pillow pet with its left ear chewed off, and a note that simply read "Hey...hey you, I love you more." Who knew that one small box could carry so many memories? It was light in Noah's arms as he transported it from the sidewalk to the backseat of his car. There was nothing left to load up now, except for himself. 

Sliding into the drivers seat, Noah plugged the key into the ignition but something stopped him from doing it. He'd lived in this city since he was eighteen, and on-off for years before then. It all just seemed too simple to drive off in the early morning and leave it all behind, to leave all the people behind. He shook his head at the thought that at this moment, no one knew he was about to set off out of New York and continue his life elsewhere. The thought had a sense of tranquillity about it, and he really didn't want that to leave. For just a second, everything had stopped. Was this his big movie moment of reflection? Sure, why not.

This place was filled with people he loved, who brought a smile to his face daily. Zoe was going to kill him once she found out there was another guy skipping out on her life. But he knew she was tough, and eventually she'd move on. But he hoped, that when she held the worn fabric of a white t-shirt that read 'I like the Pope, the Pope smokes dope' against her skin, she'd be reminded of the man she shared frivolous nights in hotels and large, sickly sweet stacks of pancakes with.

And Charlie. Noah was sad that he wouldn't be able to see his bro tackle fatherhood and completely conquer it. Their beard competition would never reach a conclusion, even though Noah had groomed his facial hair this morning as though he was still taking part in it. 

The sun was beginning to rise above the hill in front of him, and Noah glanced at the clock on the dash. 6:33 am beamed up at him, and he wondered if Reina was up yet, doing those funny yoga poses or if she'd decided to give herself a longer rest. She deserved it. This year had not been her easiest. It was funny how things had began for them. Romantic interests, turned friends, turned unspoken siblings. Noah knew he'd hear from her again. She'd probably hunt him down and then slap him right across the face for being stupid. Strangely enough, he looked forward to that moment. 

Then there was Cassie. The girl he consider his own flesh and blood, despite the fact that they weren't. She really did bring out one of the best sides of him. The nights they spent making smores (which they were excellent at because it actually required burning the food), curled up in their onesies and just having a laugh about any thing and everything; those were some of the nights he cherished most. She was strong, much stronger than she knew. She had Gale, and he was amazing for her. She'd be okay, Noah knew that much. 

His hand was still clasped around the key, but Noah was too happy getting lost in the memories. A chuckle escaped his lips as many, many fond times returned swiftly to him. There were too many people he was going to miss: Gale, Faline, Cameron, Bambi, Roni, Viola, Marcus, Mal..

Amy. The smile was wiped clean off his face as his mind reminded him of what he was doing to her. She was up in the apartment right now, sleeping peacefully and blissfully unaware that her boyfriend was leaving for good. Together they'd come so far. From humble beginnings, watching Glee together in her old apartment to sharing one together. He loved her with every fibre of his being, and that was something that was never going to change. Ever. Amelia Rose had changed his life for the better, and as he left New York he was leaving his heart behind with her. 

A few warm, salty tears splashed onto his cheeks now. With his forehead resting on the steering wheel, his heart weighed with the pain of leaving the most important thing to him behind. George. His best friend was not coming with him. Half an hour before, as he closed the door of his apartment, Noah was met with the sad eyes of the dog who had been by his side for the past six years. Those eyes seemed to know where Noah was going, but George did not make a noise. Finally, Noah turned the keys in the ignition and the car began to hum. Reaching into his jacket, Noah pulled out a letter that was the gateway to where ever this new journey was going to take him. The letter was from National Geographic, a magazine he had aspired to write for, for years. They wanted him, Noah Donovan, to have his articles published in the pages of their glossy magazine. To be published amongst writers he greatly admired was a dream come true, and one he could simply not refuse. They wanted him as a travelling journalist. He'd set off from country to country all year round. Noah could no longer stay in one place. It had not been an easy decision. He'd actually received the letter weeks ago, but had chosen to keep it to himself. Eventually he realised that this was his dream knocking at his door and that's not something he could refuse. And so Noah had accepted the offer at the price of leaving everyone he loved behind. 

Sitting now in his car, Noah knew it was time to go. All his belongings were packed from home and office. He'd said his goodbyes, but not heard them in return. He preferred it that way. He didn't know if he could handle seeing sad faces that'd only convince him to stay. The car was running and the road was clear before him. Slowly, his foot pressed down on the accelerator and he was off. Noah Donovan left New York in much the same way he had entered; with a heavy heart but with excitement of where this journey was going to take him. 

[noah-donovan]

Fucking nice.

such a load of shit. 

[noah-donovan]

What was it then?

I'm thinking of a number....

Much better than last time, but wrong.

[noah-donovan]

I. Am. SO. Excited to see it. You've set my expectations high. I would love for him to adopt me. I think I have a mancrush on your father. I regret it now. I almost had vertigo. It was weird and I felt like a 6-year old being teased at summer camp.  Don't worry. You're secret's safe with me

Shit! No!

[noah-donovan]

16.5

I'm thinking of a number....

I’m thinking of a number between fifteen and twenty. What is it?

[noah-donovan]

He's already shopping for his? Man, I'm going to have to catch up. Do you think he'll take me with him? I don't know if he can top his singing reindeer one, though.  That was too weird. Never do that again. I was always the tall guy giving other people piggy back rides.  Not the Prada shoes!

Shit! No!

[noah-donovan]

Yes. I'm ready this time

I'm thinking of a number....

Would you like to play again?

[noah-donovan]

Yeah, but then your dad would have moved passed the initial reaction and found it amusing. He adores you to pieces. No, no. I want it for humorous purposes only. Even if you can lift me....WHAT! No! I'm too high! Put me down!! you say that like you have experience

Shit! No!

[noah-donovan]

I panicked, okay? I'm really terrible with pressure. 

I'm thinking of a number....

You weren’t even in the right range either. 

That would be desperate.

[noah-donovan]

That certainly is a recipe for attraction if you ask me. But id takes true talent for someone to be attractive sans humour and alcohol.  

Humor is all you need in this world and a really strong drink, that makes everyone attractive.

[noah-donovan]

But they sent you copies? Do you just throw them all out? Cass, there was not way I was going to let you give me a sexual massage. Single or otherwise. 

Shit! No!

[noah-donovan]

No, a poor guess would be 69......or a very desperate guess but for different reasons. 

I'm thinking of a number....

Now, if ever there was a poor guess in the world, that was it.

[noah-donovan]

Now I don't know if I'm horridly ugly or not....At least I'll always have my humour. 

Oh really, I’m just talking. I’d hit on you if you were horridly ugly. 

[noah-donovan]

25. Wait! No! I take that back!

I'm thinking of a number....

between fifteen and twenty.

I bet you can’t guess what it is.

[noah-donovan]

Only if I was good at it. There's nothing wrong with showing off your accomplishments. I bet you have a copy of every magazine you cover. That was an incredibly painful experience. It was excruciating to sit down. Do you know what I do for a living? I sit and talk to people. I did interviews standing for two weeks! 

Shit! No!

[noah-donovan]

You did, I just uh didn't expect to hit on was all. I'm flattered, though.You're.. lovely too.  

I gave you fair warning. And that was a compliment, I promise.