He doesn't take her too far, up the stairs, down the hall, slowing to a stop when they reach the front of her bedroom door. He drops her hand, eyes darting behind him, looking to see if Russ or Muds would come. But they didn't and it's just them and he doesn't know exactly what to say and he feels awkward.
But she's there, in front if him, waiting patiently as his mind catches up.
She looks lovely, he thinks, Noodle in her velvet jumper.
She smelt like the club, sweat and smoke and sex and alcohol. It's a familiar smell. Familiar to when he was wild and crazy, drugged up to the nines.
He didn't like it on her, she looked exhausted.
Noodle sagged against the door, tired, yawning, "'D."
His focus snapped back to her, he still hadn't talked, like he forgot how to, but he's locked on her and she's looking back, the greens of her eyes swirling like she's reading his mind and he's getting lost in the rhinestones.
Why are you ignoring me?
Did I do something wrong?
Please talk to me.
I miss you.
"I hear things in my head."
The door opens, Noodle drifting though as it closes in his face.
His mind scrambles, thoughts racing.
They don't talk again that night.
But then she appears again a few days, nights, after, back into the shadows, quiet and withdrawn, and he's there in the shrouding light, his face in the night, still searching the stars.
It's not like how it was and she's fighting demons he can't see.
But he is there and so is she.
And they continue on.
Like they did.
It was okay again.