As if the agoraphobia wasn't bad enough, it began to dawn on Luke that being left on his own was pretty damn terrifying too. His skin was already starting to crawl; every sound from the outside world sounding twice as loud as it should.
A fact which simply made him feel even more ridiculous. This entire situation was making him feel pathetic and useless.
He'd tried to occupy his mind with working on his book; even spent a while Skyping with their friends back in Africa. But the quiet in the house was slowing building dread in the pit of his gut.
He ran through a list of phobias in his head, trying to find one to fit this new feeling; in the meantime reminding himself, that Noah was due home any minute; and if he kept concentrating on that fact, he might stave off another panic attack.
Regretting telling his folks he'd be okay while they took the kids to the park, he paced back and forth, as close to the front door as he dared. Luke glanced once more at the cell phone clutched in his hand, willing it to ring or beep or anything!
Trying to call Noah throughout the afternoon had, oddly, yielded no response.
This didn't help to steady his nerves.
He froze as keys turned in the lock, and took an unconscious couple of steps backward; air catching in his throat.
Noah's reassuring eyes held his and Luke calmed almost instantly. He waited until Noah had fully closed the door, before surging forward; meeting Noah halfway.
"So?" Luke enquired, wringing his hands as he walked. "How was it? How'd it go?"
He found himself enveloped tightly within Noah's lengthy arms only a second after Noah's rucksack hit the floor.
Luke smiled and squeezed back; enjoying the moment and waiting for Noah to break the embrace – fill him in…
But Noah didn't.
A full five minutes past and the man didn't move or make a sound.
Concerned, Luke softly asked, "Everything… okay… Bubby?"
He felt a shudder pass through the long body pressed against his own. He gently pushed Noah back. But the man was quick to hide his face.
"They didn't like it…" he tapered off.
"What?" Luke was astounded. "No… I'm sure you've got that wrong! I'm sure that they-"
But Noah patted Luke's arm, breaking away toward the bedroom, muttering something about going for a jog.
Luke knew this mood; at least well enough to know that pushing would only make it worse. So he ignored his natural instinct to step in and he uttered a simple and quiet, "Okay."
Noah stopped as he reached the passage. It was as though he'd just remembered something. He turned, eyes scanning the room; searching, listening.
Luke softly smiled. "Mom and Dad took them out."
Noah nodded. "Good. That's good." Then he vanished down the passage.
…
The promenade pounded under his feet; late afternoon sunshine hot; biting his skin, despite the noticeable chill in the strong wind whipping up off the waves.
A group of joggers nodded in greeting as Noah past; by now familiar with the long-legged runner.
Usually Noah would wave in greeting or stop to chat. But today, he barely registered them.
His brain burned with the same dry heat as his working lungs. This new memory gripped hard and refused to let go; snapping at synapses and nerves left dormant for years; opening yet another of those damnable doors he'd closed for protection; for survival.
This door was well and truly booted in. It hung; swinging on its hinges; the constant squeak hollow and echoing in his ears; driving Noah to distraction.
He tried to listen to his footfalls instead. He tried to fix the door – imagined barricading it with furniture; a chair, a dresser…
Anything…
He strived to get back to…
…to normal…
…to perfection…
Before he knew it, he was back at the house, bursting through the door. He felt a strong pang of guilt when his quick entry made Luke jump, but he was exhausted. He collapsed flat on his back, the carpet hot and tickly against his sweat-soaked skin.
The air wheezed past his lips to silent the scream inside his burning lungs. His chest heaved high with each intake and he gasped as he exhaled.
He flung one forearm up over his forehead and rested his right hand on his lower abdomen; struggling to settle himself.
By now his head thumped in rhythm with his heart; painful and heavy.
He felt the body lie down beside him, curl into him and rest it's head on his chest. Noah sighed and dropped his arm to clench his fist in the shirt at Luke's lower back. He stroked gently as his mind continued to uncontrollably whirl.
"I called Harvey Backer, because I was sure you had it wrong," Luke whispered into Noah's shirt. "He says they loved it. One of the audience members told him they hadn't watched anything so profound in years. Just because the sponsors want you to rethink the ending, doesn't mean they hated it…"
Noah coughed. But he didn't say anything. Luke could never understand…
"Can I help?" Luke's request was tentative; feeling the way with caution born from experience.
"What?" Noah pretended. It was always easier to deny then face what was truly being asked of him.
"This thing…"
Stop!
"…this thing that's worrying you and everything with Oliver and-"
Noah quickly hopped up, leaving Luke sitting on the floor. "I need to shower."
He paused when he saw the earnest look on Luke's face. Luke's lower lip was drawn between his teeth.
"I'm fine," he said, hoping it would be enough, even as he suspected it wasn't.
Luke stood, shaking his head. "I don't think you are."
Noah blinked; swallowed; felt a familiar anger and frustration building; that feeling that reminded him of his father and terrified the hell out of him at the same time.
He didn't want this feeling!
Mostly because, once unleashed, Noah was rarely able to control it.
"Something's eating away at you and-"
It was all becoming too much; piling up…
"I need to shower." Noah turned to indicate the conversation as over. He had to get out of there.
"Please don't do this…" the voice was so plaintive it dug a hole through Noah's chest.
Without turning Noah's voice quivered as he said, "I don't know what it is you want me to tell you."
"Tell me what's wrong."
For some reason those words were like a match. They sparked something deep inside and lit the fuse he was trying so desperately to keep hidden from the world. There was so much residual anger left over from the past he knew Luke was too fragile to be on the receiving end of.
It was the very reason why Noah had tried to ignore everything – let it go. But it was too late now. Too big…
Things blazed red. He spun on Luke. "You think there's something wrong with me?"
Luke's eyes were round and wet with the beginnings of tears. "Let me call Terry. Maybe she can come by and-"
"What?" Noah scathed. "Fix me?"
"Noah-"
"Because I'm the one with the problem, right? It's me, right?" Anger was driving him now. Anger and white flashes of memory he struggled to forget. "You don't have any problems?"
"I didn't say-"
Noah roughly pointed at the sliding door as he once again cut Luke off. "You refuse to go outside but that's not a problem in your eyes? Apparently I'm the one with the issues?"
It was a standoff; Luke at a loss what to say or do; Noah puffing and growling with frustration. Everything went silent; seemed to magnify down to just this moment; walls stretching out and blurring sideways.
"Go outside!" Noah eventually commanded.
If he could get Luke to go outside, then he could start to fix everything.
Luke shook his head.
"I want you to go outside!" Noah demanded again. "I want you to go outside right now and show me just how okay you are!"
"You know I can't..."
Red erupted.
The next few minutes vanished behind a black curtain of sheer rage; a blur of muffled shouts, a scuffle, fingers digging painfully into his arms, a door sliding; slamming shut.
His chest hurt, his head pounded.
When Noah next came to his senses, he was eye to eye with Holden, heaving and shaking and utterly confused.
Holden, Lily and the children stood at the front door, regarding Noah with astonishment.
Holden's eyes flicked over Noah's right shoulder, through the glass door and out into the garden.
Noah blinked hard; the room coming back into focus.
The look on Holden's face turned Noah's heart to black ice. "Noah…?"
Noah broke. Realisation slammed into him. He stumbled backward. "Oh, Jesus!"
He spun; hurtling for the sliding door, thumping it open; jumping the wooden steps of the decking to reach the crumpled, shivering heap he'd dumped outside like it was nothing.
Sickness swallowed him; he almost threw up.
As Noah slid to his knees beside Luke, Luke fought the hands that attempted to help him up until he realised they belonged to Noah. Then he clutched at Noah's clothing; clinging to him for dear life and gasping out his name.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" The repeated words tumbled from Noah's lips like an avalanche as he pulled Luke to his feet and they staggered back inside.
It was only once they reached the sofa and Holden had closed the sliding door that Luke pushed Noah back; the look on his face, one of terrified disbelief and utter fury.
Noah felt like he was slowly dying. Another "I'm sorry" formed on his lips; but he couldn't get the words out. They were pitiful - powerless to make up for this. The words choked him, drowning in the tears that fell freely now.
He stepped forward; reaching out.
Without saying anything, Luke held up his hands in a stop motion, turned and headed down the passage. They heard the bedroom door slamming behind him.
Noah dropped – the sheer weight of everything crashing into him.
"Lily, why don't you take the kids outside?" he heard Holden say.
Holden squat down by his son-in-law and squeezing his shoulder. The touch was instantly comforting; but made Noah feel sick at the same time. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve any of them.
"Why did I do that?" Noah asked him.
Holden shook his head. For once the wise man seemed at a loss for words that would provide any kind of explanation or comfort.
Noah pressed his face into both hands and cried. Holden remained still, until Noah pulled back and stood, stumbling to grab his cell phone from his rucksack. He dialled the number with shaky fingers.
"Noah?" As he heard her voice through the phone, he realised Terry had been waiting for his call. He began to wish he'd taken her up on her offer to accompany him home that night. Maybe all this could have been prevented. "Noah?"
He struggled to speak; his lips shivered; making the formation of words difficult.
Holden took the phone from Noah's fingers; checked the display and said, "Terry, hi, it's Holden Snyder here. I think we have a situation over at the house. Any chance you could stop by?"
Holden confirmed the details with Terry before Noah felt himself being led to the spare bedroom and helped onto the bed.
"What have I done?" he whispered into the pillows; cotton covers already bleeding dark with tears.
Holden soothed Noah's arm; squeezing gently. "Rest. We'll figure this all out later. I promise. Just rest."
"Will you help, Luke?"
Holden smiled, "Already on my way."
Noah's eyes drooped closed. "Tell him… tell him…"
"I know. I will." Noah heard Holden pause by the doorway. "And Noah… he knows…"
…
Fear.
It was the undercurrent of everything these days; thrumming under his skin.
And it was enough to overshadow the burning anger he felt for what Noah had done.
Luke didn't want the children to notice him moving down the passage. He could hear them shouting and giggling; playing some or other game with Holden and Lily. He tiptoed; quietly pressed the handle down and slowly pushed to open the spare bedroom door; minimising any squeak that might alert the household to his wakefulness.
He was careful to shut it. Silent and still, he crossed the dark room; crawling onto the bed and burying himself in the safety of the slumbering body of his husband.
Noah sniffed; long limb hooking over Luke and pulling him in; tear-streaked face snuffling into Luke's neck; hands clenching at him.
Luke stroked Noah's hair; allowed sleep to take him.
…
Noah tucked his bare feet up under himself; scratched the side of his head, as he rested back with one elbow on the arm of the sofa.
Luke sat at the other end, his knees pulled up to his chest; regarding Noah with a soft frown.
Both had recently showered. Their hair was damp and they both wore sweats and worn t-shirts, looking like two scared little boys.
Terry perched on the coffee table between them, watching them both in turn. She'd never seen them sit this far apart before.
"So," she said all of a sudden, making both men jump. "Who wants to start?"
Noah looked at Luke. Luke looked at Noah. But neither of them spoke.
Terry leaned back on her hands, drumming her fingers on the tabletop. Eventually, she sat back up. "Okay. Why don't we start with one of you telling me what happened here tonight?"
Of course she had already gotten the full story from Holden. But it was important to hear it directly from Luke and Noah.
"I don't know what happened." Noah muttered.
"Yes you do," Luke's response was quick; surprising them both. He dropped his feet to the floor and sat up to better make his accusation. "You do know! I tried to help you and instead of letting me, you went all Noah-ballistic on my ass!" Luke folded his arms and ducked his head in a huff.
Terry waited a moment, studying Luke with interest. Then she turned back to Noah. "Noah, what did you do?"
Noah sniffed and shook his head; profound regret clear as his forehead creased with concern in Luke's direction.
"Noah," Terry tried again. "You called me, remember?"
Noah nodded.
"I can't help you guys if you aren't willing to talk."
"He wants me to talk about things I'm not ready to." Noah snapped. "He's relentless!"
Luke made an angry sound like a snort.
"So?" Terry pushed. "What did you do?"
"I threw him outside, okay?" Noah stood and began pacing behind the sofa. "I didn't mean to! I'm not proud of that! But sometimes I really-" He quickly clammed up, slamming his lips shut in a thin line; folding his arms around himself like a cocoon.
"Finish that sentence, Noah."
Noah looked at Terry like she was insane. "I can't."
"Finish," she softly prompted. "I promise you… Luke will still be here when you do. He loves you. He's not going to go anywhere."
Noah gave her a surprised look; like he thought she might be capable of reading minds. It seemed to put him on edge and he stepped back a few strides.
"Sometimes you really what…?" Luke asked, standing to his feet, moving around the back of the sofa in Noah's direction. He was beginning to realise that this exchange was important somehow.
"I can't!" Noah told him, gritting his teeth.
"Just say it."
"No."
"Come on, Noah!" Luke took a few steps closer. "Say it."
"No!"
"Just fucking say it!" Luke shouted.
Noah threw his arms in the air. "Okay fine! Sometimes, I really hate you! Okay? Are you happy now?"
In all her years as a psychologist, Terry had never seen a man display his feelings as openly as Luke Snyder. His face was an open book most of the time; and now was no exception.
She watched as the wind knocked out of him; eyes glassy; gapping; lost for words; hurt.