Through the Screen novel Chapter 103

the seven am sun greets abel 's puffy cheeks and heavy dark circles in the softest way possible, the dim light dotting up against his freckles and weaving through his wavy hair, igniting a few brown strands into a pale golden colour. he sighs, wrapping his fingers firmly around the cup of tea and staring into the unpopulated streets outside.

the thin layer of fog curls his hair further, and chills the tip of his nose, but the weather is one of the last things abel cares about as he sips on the warm liquid. he's been sitting out on this balcony for long enough to see the sky change colours, and next to him, the glass of whisky he had spontaneously made is kept untouched. the image of noah breaking down and asking him to leave is a little less harsh behind his eyes now, noah's words a little less loud.

he is aware he has made a mistake, god knows he would do anything to take it back, but he is just so tired of trying to get noah back. every time he convinces himself to give noah some time to recover, he finds himself right at noah's feet, asking for forgiveness, crying, sobbing, breaking himself almost as much as noah at each refusal. he needs to calm down, he needs to understand that noah needs time to heal from this but somehow, he knows that even after this, even after the millionth time of attempting to explain himself, he will land right back where he was a few hours ago—begging, crying and hurting noah like he always does.

before he can proceed degrading himself and the terrible choices he makes, two small hands cover his eyelids and the scented candle that has somehow managed to weave it's fragrance through adrian's clothes makes a gentle comfort rise at the base of his heart.

"guess who?" he already knew it was adrian, but the effort adrian put this early in the morning to deepen his voice made abel giggle nonetheless.

"these wrinkly hands could only belong to my son," he speaks sarcastically, the tone of his voice sounded happy for someone who has spent the entire night attempting to pick up the pieces of his heart and arrange them into a better pile.

"merry christmas," adrian doesn't respond with a smart comment because he knows just how much effort it would take from his father to actually hold a conversation with him at this time, he can almost feel the weight of the purple bags ruining his father's face. he just wraps his arms around his shoulders from behind and sinks his chin on top of abel 's head.

"merry christmas darling," abel just grips adrian's arms that are resting around his shoulders and gives them an assuring squeeze, his eyes wandering over to the heavily clouded sky.