"You know about a person who deeply interests you more than you can be told. A look, a gesture, an act, which to everybody else is insignificant, tells you more about that one than words can." -Henry David Thoreau

A picture is worth a thousand words to each individual person that sees that picture, but what about those frozen snapshots we carry with us in our mind? Are they worth more than a thousand words? I have this picture in my mind of Aden. He is sitting on the floor between Finn and me with a huge smile on his face. He has on his monster feet slippers and a blanket is tied around his neck acting as a surrogate cape. Everyone looks so happy, so content, that it's hard to see what's beyond the picture. It doesn't show all the hugs and kisses, the smiles and the laughter. To anyone else it would just be a simple picture but to me there is a leftover essence of a memory, one I can almost reach out and touch. Once I start to think about that moment in time, imagine that picture, I get lost in the memories.

I remember how long car rides were, the time length excruciating for Aden. He sat fidgeting and wiggling, small giggles escaping through his lips. I had turned around in my seat to look at him, my tongue sticking out and my nose scrunching as his laughter pierced through the air (and penetrated my heart). I remember the way I threw my head back, laughing with him. I'm not sure now what was so funny, only that neither of us could contain our joy. There is something about a child's laughter that truly cures all, that makes everything seem better, that leaves the world behind.

I remember the first time Aden "helped" Finn play his Playstation 3. I listened to his laughter and growls as his fingers tapped at the controls maneuvering the character about the screen. It was about this time he learned the art of trash talking, something I thought completely inappropriate for a two and a half year old to know how to do. But when he put down his remote, smile beaming on his face and told Mike "I winned you. I awesome." I couldn't help but laugh.

For his third birthday, Burt and Carol thought it would be brilliant to buy him a mini drum set (just like dads). It was around this time that Finn accepted his new promotion at work and started to travel. Whenever Finn would leave, Aden would sit in front of the set a pout on his face, his sticks banging against the symbols with no rhythm. There was something about the intensity of his gaze, the way his tongue snuck between his teeth as he concentrated, that stopped me from taking them away from him.

I miss him and as much as I try to push it away, to ignore it, it's there in the back of my brain taunting me.

#

When I wake up in the morning, Noah is sitting in the living room his guitar perched on the end of his knee. He's wearing his glasses again and a pencil is clenched between his fingers. I watch as he chews on the eraser before jotting a few notes down. He plays them into the air, runs his hand against his face, then plays them again nodding. There is something about seeing him like this, watching him compose, and I can't help but just stand in the doorway silently.

"If you're going to stand there and ogle me than the least you can do is throw on some coffee," he chuckles as he looks up from his notes. His eyes look tired and he has small bags under them; but they also contain a sparkle that I haven't seen in quite awhile. His sweat pants and t-shirt look like they were thrown on haphazardly and I can't help but smile.

"Couldn't sleep?" I question, moving into the room. He shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, a small grunt escaping his lips. I make my way to the table, my eyes scanning over the music in front of him. I find myself humming the music softly. "Noah, this is beautiful." I can hear the way the music would play out, feel it filling my head, and I can't help but beam at him.

"It's just a rough draft," he grumbles, his hand reaching out and flipping the book closed. He pulls his guitar off of his lap and lays it on the couch next to him. He has a small smile on his face, he almost looks content. His hands reach out and grab me, pulling me into his lap. I can feel the brush of his fingers against my stomach as his lips brush against my neck. "G' morning."

"Morning," I whisper as I close my eyes and lean my head back against his shoulder. My back aches a bit with the movement and I can't help but smile as I think about the night before. "What time do you have to pick your mother up from the hotel?"

He lets out a gentle groan, his head crashing back into the couch causing a resounding clunk. "Way to ruin the mood." I can't help but giggle at the dramatics of the comment and the motion. As much as he would refuse to admit it, I think some of my characteristics have rubbed off on him a bit. "I should probably head over there soon, before she starts calling and bitching me out. I'll probably bring her to your show tonight; think you can get me two tickets?"

"Should be no problem," I promise, letting myself sink into him. We set for a moment, wrapped up in each other before beginning our day. Neither of us mention the night before, our emotional conversation, or the decisions that followed. But as I walk around the rest of the day, the memory of it, the thought of what we are trying to create, helps carry me.

#

There are two bouquets of flowers sitting at my vanity when I arrive at the theater. The first bouquet of red and orange roses is from Noah. There is a small note attached and I can't help but trace my fingers over the words. Love you, Babe. You'll do great. There is something so touching, so thoughtful about it all that I can't help but smile as I lean over and smell the fragrant flowers.

The second bouquet contains sprigs of lavender and pink daisies. I pull the card out of its envelope, my eyes scanning the card. I read the lyrics twice before, hands shaking, I set the card down. 'The keeper of the Stars' by Tracy Byrd is a love song. I'm aware of what each word means, aware of the message Finn is sending.

I'm also a bit startled.

I can feel my whole body shaking as I sink into my chair. I still remember the way Finn's hands had curled around my waist as we danced to this song; remember the feel of his body pressing into mine. It had seemed like such a cliché song that I found myself chuckling as it blasted from his car radio during our junior year. Finn had pulled me close to him, looked straight into my eyes, and told me that the song made him think of me, because I was his star.

I had lost my virginity to him in the back of his car that night. I can still remember the way my name fell from his lips, the way he whispered to me through the darkness; the moon our only source of light. It was far from perfect, neither of us really knew what we were doing; our movements more fumbled than purposeful. For the rest of the year, I couldn't look at his car without a blush lighting up my face.

I look at the words one more time, my hands shaking.

Soft moonlight on your face oh how you shine
It takes my breath away
Just to look into your eyes
I know I don't deserve a treasure like you

-Finn

I drop the note into the trashcan, vowing to forget ever reading it.

#

There is something about being on stage, about standing under those lights, that makes everything else in the world go away. I can transport myself to another time, become a different person, and for a while put everything else on the back burner. When the show is over, I'm exhausted and my body aches. I literally want to curl up and just fall asleep. It isn't until I'm standing backstage scrubbing the makeup from my face that I realize my night is far from over.

Noah and Eva are waiting for me when I exit the dressing room. Eva mentions something about going out for a late dinner, but I can't seem to take my eyes off of Noah long enough to answer her. The two of us follow her out of the theater and make our way down the street to an all night diner. Noah is surprisingly quiet and if I didn't know him so well, I might be worried.

I can tell immediately that my being on stage got to him (it may have had something to do with my tiny wardrobe and provocative dancing). His face is tense and a bit redder than usual, his breathing deep and uncontrolled. I turn to look at him, raising my eyebrows in amusement, and can't help but chuckle at the low growl that emits from his lips.

"Thank you for the flowers," I whisper as he pulls my hand into his, his thumb brushing against my wrist. I can feel Eva's eyes watching us as he smiles and nods his head. I find myself sliding into the booth, Noah sliding next to me. His arm rests against the back of the booth, his fingers just barely brushing my shoulder. Eva sits across from us and I find myself smiling politely, my eyes scanning the menu quickly. I may not like the woman, but that doesn't mean that I can't be polite.

"So what did you think of the show?" I question, setting the menu down as I brush my hair back from my face. I'm always good for a bit of idle chit chat, especially when the silence is awkward.

"Amazing," Noah mutters, his eyes wide and his mouth smirking. "I think I could watch you every night." I can't help but laugh at the mischievousness in his voice as he moves his hand, resting it against my thigh.

"Your singing was beautiful. I can't say that I really approve of the story line, though." Eva's voice trails off as she looks down at her menu for a moment, a sigh escaping her lips. Her voice tremors as she continues to speak, as if forcing the words out. "But I guess you have to start somewhere right?"

I bite my tongue, forcing a smile at our waitress who takes our drink and food orders before leaving us setting in silence. I'm not really surprised by her response; the play is very controversial and new. I take comfort in the fact that she enjoyed my singing, though. I'm sure that when my fathers come they will have similar concerns, which won't be unfounded. I love the character I'm playing, though, no matter what anyone thinks of her. The drama of her life, the things that she faces, I can just relate to them in a way that is hard to describe. I figure I'm just going to have to get used to the criticism.

"So what did you two do today?" I change the subject before taking a sip of my water. I listen as they talk about the different sights they took in around the city and rest my head against Noah's shoulder. I refuse to let her ruin my night; refuse to let her get to me or bring me down.

After all, Eva Puckerman has never liked me; ever.

From the first moment I met her it was like she was on guard with me. This fact is something Noah has always enjoyed posturing over. The fact that she dislikes me, that she takes issue with our relationship, just gives Noah more reasons to claim her insanity. I am what he considers her "ideal girlfriend" for him; a nice Jewish girl.

I can't help but try to hide my smile when the plate of bacon arrives on the table, my teeth biting into my lip to keep the laughter from bubbling out. I watch as Noah shoves each piece into his mouth in a big show even going as far as licking the grease off his fingers. I may not be able to read Eva well, but I do speak Noah fluently.

This is a big "fuck you."

Sorry for the delayed posting and responding to reviews, I came down with something last Tuesday and have basically spent the last week awake and miserable or sleeping... not as fun as it sounds, trust me. Which is also why this chapter is a bit shorter and unbetaed.. I wanted to get it up quickly. Thanks to all of you who took the time to review and let me know your thoughts/feelings/ect.

Bit of a spoiler regarding last nights episode:

(aka Puck and the v-word)...

Totally don't buy it. What doctor would perform that procedure on a 17 year old boy? I mean come on, seriously? Anyways, we're just going to pretend that it never happened... MMMk?

:D

N