Archive of Our Own ^beta

As choir wrapped up and everyone set their music in their cubbies, Noel went up to Constance. “Hey, Constance?” Without looking up from her binder, as she was struggling with it, she hummed to acknowledge him. “Can you drive me home?”

Constance finally got her binder rings to shut, and she turned to look at the other. Her face fell when she saw him picking at his nails again. He was staring either at his hands or at the floor– she couldn’t tell. She slid her binder into its cubby and frowned. “Sure. But… why? You usually walk home just fine.”

Noel sighed. “I just… I dunno? Can you just drive me?” Constance eyed him for a moment, knowing there was something else to it, just not what. Before she could answer, he quietly added, “And, I dunno, maybe hang out for a bit?”

Constance nodded. Noel wasn’t often nervous or quiet, at least not around her. Everyone else packed up and grabbed their bags, calling to each other to be safe. Misha offered to take the others, and he quickly looked at Constance and Noel. “Hey, sluts, wanna come get snack foods with us?”

Constance chuckled a bit, but Noel shook his head a bit, so she just said, “Not today, Mish. We need to get home, and I’m kinda tired.”

Noel took a breath and called over his shoulder, “Next week, though, totally.”

Misha looked at Constance and quickly signed, ‘He O-K?’

Constance stepped aside to grab her bag, taking the moment she was out of Noel’s view to sign back, ‘I will take care of him.’

The others nodded, giving a few concerned looks as they filed out. Constance gave each of her friends a reassuring smile. Penny didn’t seem reassured, as she hopped on the lowest riser and tapped Noel on the shoulder. He turned to look at her, and she smiled softly. “Love you,” she whispered, and then she gave him a quick hug before skipping off and out the door. Noel was left smiling a little more.

Constance picked up both of their bags from the hallway and handed Noel’s to him. “Do you need something on our way to your house?” Constance asked. Noel shrugged. She nibbled her lips. Okay. It was one of those days. She could handle that. “Well, I need a milkshake.”

Noel hummed and followed her out of the school and into the parking lot. They saw Misha’s car fly haphazardly around the corner and onto the street, and then Ocean’s shrill scream came through one of the open windows. The pair laughed softly as they approached and got into Constance’s car. The drive was quiet until Constance was pulling into the Burger King drive-thru. Constance pulled some cash out of her purse and looked at him. “What do you want?”

Noel shrugged.

Constance sighed and pulled up a little farther as the one car ahead of them did. “Okay, do you think you’ll puke if you have dairy?”

“No.”

Constance smirked and pulled up to the menu board. Noel leaned on the window, picking his nails and zoning out as Constance ordered. The motion of the car was oddly soothing as they turned the corner to come up to the window. He tensed when the motion stopped.

“One chocolate Oreo milkshake and one strawberry milkshake?”

“Yes, that’s us! Thank you, and have a great day!”

A moment later, they were pulling out of the parking lot. Noel relaxed a bit, pulling his legs up as they moved. He took his shake out of the cupholder and took a sip. The cold, fruity sweetness made him feel far better. “Uhm…” He took a breath. Why was it so hard to communicate right now? “Hey, can we drive around a bit?” Noel asked slowly, stirring with his straw a bit. As he licked off some whipped cream, Constance said they could.

A few minutes passed of just the pair quietly sipping their shakes and staring off. Constance glanced at Noel a few times, trying to figure out what to say. When something came to her, she simply asked, “Do you wanna talk about what’s on your mind?”

Noel tensed a bit, but he didn’t shut down. He took one long sip, savored it, swallowed, and then set it in a cup holder. “I…” He looked out his window, and Constance saw his reflection blinking quickly. “Does my life even matter anymore?”

Constance was so shocked by the question that she suddenly hit the breaks. Noel gasped and gripped his seatbelt to hold himself as it locked. Constance slammed her drink in her own cup holder and turned to look at him. “The hell?! Yes, Noel, of course!” She reached and grabbed one of his hands. “Why would you even ask that?!” When did that question become so familiar to her? She started mentally planning out the conversation with her parents so they could help her reach out to Noel’s mom. She squeezed his hand tight and bit her lip as she waited for his answer.

He looked at her quickly, eyes wide. “I– No, I didn’t mean– I didn’t exactly– Connie, I’m not gonna–” Nothing he started to say was fully true. He teared up a bit and squeezed her hand back, his fingers far colder than usual on account of holding the milkshake for so long. “I just meant… Do you ever think about death? Like, we literally died temporarily. Does it ever, like, bother you? Like, do you ever…”

When Noel trailed off, Constance started driving again, one hand still firmly holding his. “Noel, I need you to tell me the truth.” He nodded, and she forced her voice to steady out. All the fears bubbling from deep within her didn’t matter right now. She was used to battling those until they retreated. Right now, she had to focus on Noel, because– despite all his dark and twisted fantasies– he had never acted like this, said something like that, and genuinely scared her. “Do you wanna hurt yourself…?” She didn’t have the heart to finish that sentence: again?

Noel was quiet for a moment, and she was honestly more scared by that. Eventually, he practically whispered, “I’ve thought about it.”

Constance didn’t like that answer. She drove up to the park and parked on the curb. The second the engine was off, she turned to him. “Let me see.”

He didn’t have to ask for clarification. Noel unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up so Constance could look at his wrists and forearms. She didn’t need to scrutinize them, just make sure there weren’t fresh marks. The only ones she even saw were a few on the back of his left arm, but she knew those were at least three years old. She sighed in relief and pulled her hands back to his and squeezed them. “I’m proud of you.”

Noel shed tears then, and his next breath was shaky. “Thank you.” He took a few more breaths as the tears dripped off of his chin. Constance reached one hand to wipe them away. Noel sniffed. “I… It’s not like I want to hurt myself to hurt myself. I just want to remember what it feels like. Not like– I don’t want to be in more pain. I just want… I want to know I’m alive. Like this isn’t all some illusion. Is… Is any of this making sense?”

Constance took a breath, glad it wasn’t the same explanation she’d been given hiding in the girls’ bathroom four years ago. But he still wasn’t fully acting like himself, and he’d just said something more concerning than she’d heard in ages. “Sort of… Do you mean you just want to know we actually were brought back?” Noel opened his mouth, shut it, shrugged, and finally nodded. Constance swallowed. Not convincing. Not convincing at all. “Do you not… feel alive?”

Noel shrugged again, and Constance was getting annoyed with the motion. “Okay… Can you elaborate for me, please?”

Noel sniffed. “It’s like– It’s like my body is screaming at me that something is wrong. Something is wrong with me, or what I’m doing, or how I’m living. It just won’t tell me what. I– I’ve started thinking that this has to do with the accident. Like I’m having trouble believing I’m still alive. I think at least a part of me stayed dead. Or maybe my body knows it’s supposed to be dead? I’ve– I’ve ignored it for a while, and I thought it would go away. I was fine, well, fine enough for a while. I didn’t wanna worry you or any of the others unless it was really that bad. We’re all working through stuff and, like, I hoped it would fade, but… but today I found myself writing something about Monique that was really, really dark during study hall, and– and I wanted you. I just– I need you.”

Constance teared up a bit, and she pulled his knuckles up to kiss them gently. “Thank you for coming to me.” At least it wasn’t just blatantly destructive. This was complicated, and Noel always found a way to make things make sense before they went too far. He wouldn’t act on anything until he understood, and by then, he should have a way to get past it, through it, over it– whatever kept him safe.

“Thank you for being here for me.”

“Always, Noël, always.”

Noel swallowed and pulled away one hand to pick up his milkshake and take a few sips. Constance took the opportunity to do the same. It seemed that the treat was calming Noel down after all, which she was really happy to see. She wished hers was doing that for her, but the anxiety and worry was a little too much for Oreos to fix. She let Noel enjoy his for a few minutes before trying to continue the conversation. “Noel. Why are you wondering if your life matters?”

Noel sighed and put the milkshake back down. “I guess… Not mine. I guess it’s more about life in general. If… They say you should live a memorable life because one day, you’ll die, and we only get one chance. Thing is, we all got another chance. So… Does any of that matter?”

That struck home.

Constance’s grip suddenly tightened, and she felt her lip quiver. Did anything still matter? Were their lives as meaningful if they’d come back? She had struggled to believe her life was meaningful until the accident. They’d been so close to passing on. They’d been so close to peace. They’d been so close to, hopefully, Heaven. Would it have been better and more meaningful to die in that accident? Did that mean their existence now wasn’t important?! Did that mean everything they learned suddenly didn’t mean as much?! What if everything she realized didn’t matter? If that had no grounds, how much would it take for her to fall back into that depression? She had lived the last few months fueled almost entirely by her sudden love for life and music and sunsets. If that realization was void, did she still want to live?! What if life suddenly was all she thought it was before? What if all life mattered except for theirs because of the accident?! Constance found herself trying to sort through a hundred horrible thoughts in about five seconds, and she was already deep into a spiral.

Noel seemed to notice, because he suddenly tried to back track. “Wait, no, please don’t overthink it. I didn’t– You’re still– Connie, don’t cry, don’t cry, please don’t cry!”

Too late.

Constance squeezed his hands tight as the tears started, and she took quick breaths. “I– I thought so. I thought we– I thought–” She swallowed hard and shook her head nervously. “We got to come back. We got to live! Isn’t that still special? I mean, has that ever happened to anyone before?!”

“Yes, of course it’s special!” Noel said. “I just– Does anything–”

Constance shook her head. “Things matter! You matter, I matter, we all still matter! We’re lucky! We are really lucky to still be here. We are really lucky to still be alive. It– It has to mean something.”

Noel leaned over the console to hug her, suddenly so guilty for scaring her. “Sure, it does! We are lucky. We’re– We’re really lucky.” He squeezed her tighter. “Hey…” How many people did he know that died and didn’t deserve it? How many people did he know that deserved a second chance more than they did? Sure, their death was unfair, but so many people deserved more time. “Hey…”

Constance started sobbing, and she clung to him. “Our lives don't mean any less than they used to. Living again didn't take away from the experience. It– It made it better. It made it better.” She gripped his sweater vest. “It has to. I– I'm trying to make the most of it.”

Noel cursed himself for dragging Constance into his depressingly nihilistic existentialism. He hushed her, but it did pretty much nothing. He started to wish that he'd just decided to wallow in it on his own.

“Does it even matter?” Constance asked. She swallowed and sniffed again. “I– The– Nobody at school or in our family knows what we went through. We're not survivors or saints. We're just losers again. Nothing we do matters more to people. I almost wonder what would have happened if we'd died. Like– Would we be remembered for what we were or as perfect, innocent victims? If we'd survived the crash, would we be the center of attention and make an impact? Or– Or–” She shut her eyes as if that would block out the horrific thought, but it came out anyway. “Nothing we do is important.”

“That's not–”

“It is! Our concerts are hardly attended, we have no other friends, and I'm not even a better student!” Noel squeezed her. “It– Why does none of it matter?! I do everything I can to be kind and nice and good, but it doesn't matter! Nobody at school cares. Nobody knows what we went through. None of our classmates or teachers see me healing from a crash that never killed me. Nobody sees me trying to be happier with what I have. There isn't a single person in that school who sees me for who I am and likes it. They like my smile and jokes, but they don't want me to be weird. I can't help being weird!” She pulled back and suddenly slammed her fist on the steering wheel. “Why should I hide how weird I am to be liked?! Why should I have to change things about myself to be received well? Why can't I be content with the real me, why isn't that enough!?”

Noel took a few messy breaths before he curled his hand into a fist. “Why does my sexual preference make me un-friend-able or something?! It's not like I'd fake being gay in a conservative town to stalk girls! It's not like I'd be open about it if I was trying to ‘corrupt’ guys! So– So who gives a shit?!”

Constance nodded. “Why am I reduced to sweet and happy? What, because fat people are supposed to be jolly? Well, guess what: I can be in a bad mood! I am in a very bad mood!” She picked up her milkshake. “Every one of my many ounces is filled with a bad mood, and– and I'm about to make it someone else's problem!”

Noel grinned and lifted his own milkshake. “I'll drink to that!” Without further ado, they tapped their cups together and took a few sips until Noel got a brain freeze. He stopped, but Constance kept going for a moment. He slammed the cup back down and started talking again. “How am I only known for being gay and being bad because of it?! I'm an amazing writer, thank you very much! I'm even better than Ocean, and if GPA was based in the literary arts, I would be valedictorian!”

Constance pulled her mouth off her straw, and a bit of the brown liquid spilled onto her lip. She wiped it off, loudly saying, “Damn right!”

Noel smirked to himself a bit. “And– And I can be a mess! It doesn't matter if I'm beautiful or tragic or some in-between; people are gonna villainize me. So– So I'll–”

“You'll be the most fag-ulous villain Uranium City has ever seen!” Constance told him.

Noel burst into laughter, which quickly just sort of devolved into deranged giggling. Constance let out a snort at the sound before committing and laughing her ass off as well. She hit her hand on the console a few times before finding Noel's hand. Without speaking, they intertwined their fingers. It took a moment to get them both to calm down, but tears were streaming down their cheeks still.

When they did relax, they finished off their milkshakes and blew their noses into some napkins that Constance had in the console. When those were shoved into the sides of the doors, Noel took her hand back into his.

“How did we end up on this topic?” Constance asked, wiping another tear as it fell.

Noel shook his head, sniffing. “I'm not even sure.”

There was a moment of quiet interrupted only by sniffing and breath catching.

“Noël?”

“Yeah, Connie?”

“What's wrong with us?”

Noel shrugged and squeezed her hand. “A lot.”

“Are we bad people for– Are we wrong for being so angry?” Constance asked. “Most of those people are living their own lives, struggling under the influence of Catholic guilt. They're all fighting their own battles and here we are hating them.”

“Are you really hating people?”

“... I guess not. Just… raging.”

Noel nodded. “That's fair. I don't think we're bad for that. They hate us openly. It's not like you take it out on them.”

“I don't try to.”

“Good.”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Noel took a breath. “I'm sorry for dragging you into my mood.”

“You didn't drag me into anything. I needed to let that out.”

Noel leaned over to rest his head on hers– which was really more out of affection than for comfort, considering how far down he had to lean to do so– and hummed. “Then you're welcome.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

“You just said that.”

“I said ‘you're welcome,’ bitch, just accept it!”

Constance snickered and ran her thumb over the back of his hand. “Okay, okay, weirdo.”

“You are one of two people who can call me that without me feeling bad,” Noel commented.

“Who's the other person?”

“Ricky.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Constance said. “I mean this in the best way possible, but Ricky is the king of weird.”

Noel made a fake gagging noise. “I will never forget the image of him hip-thrusting into Ocean.”

Constance bit her lip and glanced down. “I mean, that whole thing wasn't that bad.”

“... What.”

Crossing her legs and tensing up, the shorter girl blushed and said, “I mean, like, it wasn't unpleasant. Like… I… There's nothing I can say to redeem myself, is there?”

“Nope,” Noel said, making a popping sound with his lips at the end. After a moment, he sat up and grinned down at Constance. “Oh my gosh, do you actually wanna bang Ricky?”

Constance's eyes widened, and her face reddened. She refused to meet Noel's eyes. She unfolded her legs and started the car. “Okay, cool, I'm taking you home.”

“Holy shit! I was joking; do you actually wanna do him?!” Noel asked, the words tumbling out of his mouth quickly. He started grinning and holding back giggles as he let himself act like a middle schooler again. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”

“Shut up!” Constance said, flicking his arm as she pulled back onto the road.

“No way! Is it because of the song, or do you actually like him? Like is this a crush you wanna marry or do you just wanna live out his fantasy??”

“I could ask you the same thing about you, Misha, and your French hooker!” Constance smirked at him.

Noel flushed, crossed his arms, and sat forward. After a moment, he glanced at Constance. He looked back ahead and confessed, “I kinda wanna date Misha and make out like that again, any order.”

Constance sighed and said, “Yeah, pretty much same.”

There was a calm, understanding quiet as Constance drove Noel home. Were things perfect? No. Were they okay? No, not really. Neither of them had really been okay since September. Were they really valued by their classmates? Sadly, no. They were the only people who really valued one another; at least, after that breakdown, it felt like it. Were they going to be okay? Hopefully, eventually, probably.

When Constance pulled up to Noel's house, she kept the door locked for a moment. “Noël?” She looked at him. “Tell me, call me, text me, something if you even barely feel like hurting yourself.”

“I promise, Connie.”

She unlocked the door. “One more thing?”

“Hm?"

“You're one hell of a poet. Maybe life doesn't have meaning… Maybe you should write one in.”

Noel smiled as he got out. “I like that idea.” He reached back into the car. “Promise me something?” She took his hand.

“Shoot me.” A look of confusion hit Constance’s face as she processed her own words. “Shoot. Like go ahead. Don't shoot me. I've died enough for one lifetime, thanks.”

Noel laughed and squeezed her fingers. “Show me the meaning where you find it. Or bring it back to me.”

Constance smiled, trying not to cry again. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”