Through the Screen novel Chapter 115

three years are apparently not enough for the silence to end because as soon as the initial surprise of seeing abel 's apartment, and discovering every little detail of the boxy place—from the way abel still doesn't make the bed when he gets out of it, or how the entire apartment is clean except for the mugs that will always find their place somewhere in the corner of a coffee table, or the way he still puts the tv remote in places he can't find—the couple cannot hold a conversation about anything even remotely important when they are enclosed in the four walls that could make or break this reunion.

abel shifts uncomfortably on the other end of the couch, shifting his gaze just slightly to look at the way noah seems completely unaffected by the distant between them, completely unaffected by how they haven't even hugged each other despite of being away from each other for years, how he doesn't even care enough to offer a conversation about what happened and what they are supposed to be and if they are supposed to be something.

he feels completely out of place—he can't bring up his own mistakes, he can't bring up noah's heartbreak, he can't bring up how shit of a father he was and how he wants to rejoin his own family and be a better addition than he was all those years ago. earlier in the day he felt as if postponing this conversation would be in their best interest but now as noah sits next to him, his lean body stretched across the other end of the sofa as his eyes watch the screen intently—abel regrets putting it off for later.

of course it hurt when he had to spend nights alone in this apartment and of course it took a lot, a lot of time to get used to a different set of walls but right now, the incapability of just wrapping his arms around noah's torso and crying into his chest and letting him know just how much abel has missed him is causing a pain in his chest on a whole new level.

he has worked hard on how to control his emotions, how to deal with them, how to control his impulsive nature—but all his recovery goes to waste in front of noah because there is only one person in the entire world who he can expect to understand him fully—and that one person is doing absolutely nothing to calm the chaos in his brain and the torment in his heart and in the usual abel roberts way of handling things he doesn't know how to handle—the feeling of apathy contorts into anger and aggression and pure adrenaline in his veins.

he tries to ignore it, the familiar heat in his chest, the more familiar watering of his eyes and he presses himself firmly against the backrest and purses his lips, watching 28 days later with no conviction whatsoever.

"i'm kind of hungry again, i think i'm getting really—abel? are you okay?" and abel can't answer the obviously fake question because if he opens his mouth he is going to ruin everything with either a bitter string of words or just the sour sobbing that he doesn't want noah to see anymore.

so he settles on the next best option and nods his head in agreement, shrugging his shoulders to somehow convey his disinterest in noah's question.

"abel. . .what's wrong?" noah shifts closer and the air gets denser, barely finding its way into abel 's lungs and he's really not used it because god—it's been a while since he's forgotten how to breathe. and as soon as noah's fingers attempt to melt comfort into abel 's skin, the younger male snaps, both metaphorically and literally as he pushes noah away and raises his hands up in defence because he doesn't want any of this bullshit anymore.

if noah doesn't want to be with him, if noah has gotten over him then he doesn't have to pretend.

"you hate me," they were not the words that he wanted his mouth to slip, and neither did he want the stream of tears to drip down his face, so he takes a deep breath and turns his back to noah before running his hands frustratedly through his hair.

"i don't,"

"you do, you still hate me,"