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Their friendship— or relationship, maybe — whatever they wanted to call it, wasn't as simple as Noah wanted it to be. The distance, the timing, it was difficult at best to balance. But nothing was more painful than keeping it all a secret.
A long day of interviews with each of them placed on the opposite side of the room from one another, paparazzi following their cars to the hotel, the threat of a camera on them at any moment always lingering.
Finn was good at hiding it. He had the privilege of being 'openly straight', having had girlfriends and blind items shared about him more than once. His voice wasn't naturally flamboyant like Noah's, hand gestures not flippant, walk not prim and proper like Noah's. He was lucky.
Noah didn't have that. It was the price to pay for coming out of the closet, even if the closet was as weak and clear as saran wrap. He couldn't even post a photo with a friend from school anymore without fans commenting on whether this was his new boyfriend, and if it was a girl — then comments about him being 'straight now' came in too.
But regardless of their different positions in life, society, and Hollywood, they managed to come together. Noah can't even really recall what the changing moment in their relationship was or when it came.
Maybe lines between character and actor, fact and fiction, rehearsal and real got blurred or maybe it had always been different with Finn, and he just hadn't noticed til they were older.
He was good to him, sweet, so gentle in a way that made Noah's chest hurt. Because he wasn't some guy off Grindr who he had to worry about leaking things, or some shitty frat guy who wanted to make out in a disgusting bathroom before pretending he didn't exist. He was just Finn, the boy he grew up with — the boy he got famous with and went through every awkward stage with. Noah didn't have to pretend with him, not until the cameras were on them.
It's show business, and Noah knows that. It's not like he wants to make out with him in the middle of New York or hold his hand through every interview or whatever — he just wants to be able to keep Finn's gaze on him for more than a few seconds. Maybe take some photos together, or God forbid — sit next to him in public.
But it's not what Finn can handle, not with the mob of his teenage fans who harassed his ex-girlfriend out of existence and his PR team up his ass. Noah's still recovering from his own cancellation, and Finn's managed to avoid being involved with any major scandals throughout his twelve years in the industry and he can't be the reason why that changes. He just can't.
But sometimes it hurts, more than it usually does. Noah's only human.
They're in Japan, and both so painfully jet-lagged that Noah can't remember a thing he said during a single interview today. It's been almost a year since he deleted most of his socials, and yet he can already see the comments in his head — about his appearance, his quietness, whatever the people in and out of the fandom can pick up on.
Noah closes his hotel door behind him, alone for the first time since — God, he can't even think of when. Maybe 4 A.M?
And all he wants to do is cry. His eyes burn and he's tired and hungry and tomorrow morning they have to fly somewhere else and do it all over again. He can't remember the last time Finn kissed him, or the last time they were alone together in general. Sometimes, he genuinely questions his sanity — like maybe Finn and him really are only friends and maybe Finn's never liked him at all. It's hard not to go down that path when they’re separated and pretending to be acquaintances for most of the day.
There's tears streaming down his face now, and all he can do is sit on the edge of the untouched hotel bed and stare at the floor.
He feels around for his phone in his pocket, pulls it out and sees a flurry of unopened messages from the group-chat. Gaten and Caleb want to go do karaoke at some muscle-man bar or something, and Finn's thinking of joining. Noah decides he does not care about that right now, not one bit. He opens up Finn's messages, sees the last thing that was sent.
Finn: Where'd you go
Noah wipes his nose and cheeks on his sleeves, then types out something small back.
Noah: My room
He doesn't even get to close his phone before a response pops up.
Finn: Ok
A small smile spreads across his tired face, but his chest is still tight and his cheeks are still flushed and damp with tears. He forces himself to stand up on tired, achy legs and allows himself to change out of the too-tight slacks and itchy sweater his stylist put him in. If he has to suffer emotionally, he can at least be comfortable while he does it.
He hears a gentle knock on the door when he's finally slipped into a baggy shirt and his sweats. Noah hopes that his eyes aren't so red anymore, but Finn reads him like a book.
The door swings open, and there he is. Hair frizzy from the humidity, under-eyes heavy with a similar look of jet-lag, but still — it's Finn.
"Lemme in," he says, gently pushing past Noah into the doorway. Noah peeks down the hallway, making sure that the other boys aren't secretly hiding to ambush him. "It's just me."
Noah closes the door with a half-hearted scoff, giving him a weak side-eye. "Finally."
It's not Finn's fault, and he knows that.
Finn gets a good look at him, up and down before landing on his puffy eyes, then holds open his arms to wrap around Noah. He just leans into it, barely hugs back, but still presses his face into Finn's shoulder and lets himself breathe him in. His hands hold him tight, his body warm and lanky and perfect for these all-consuming hugs that Noah needs most on days like these.
Minutes must pass as they sway in the doorway before Finn presses a gentle mouth-open kiss onto Noah's forehead, murmuring a barely-audible, "Okay."
He pries Noah off of him, keeping his hands on his shoulders to lead him over to the bed.
Noah attempts to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to keep his space, but Finn's having none of it. He climbs up onto the other side of the bed and plops down with his legs stretched, then yanks Noah down next to him.
They can't help but chuckle about it, Noah's weaker than Finn's, but a break in tension nonetheless. Noah settles down next to him, placing his head on his chest — right where his heart beats underneath the layers of skin and bone. Just the sound of it sends a wave of relief through his body.
"So, what's up?" Noah asks, trying to sound casual, and not irritated or jealous or sad. He fails. "Thought you guys were doing karaoke or whatever."
He can feel Finn's head tilt downward, and Noah looks up to meet his eyes. "Is that what this is about?"
"Is this what what is about?" Noah shifts himself away from Finn, glaring at him. "What?"
"You're upset. That's what."
Noah can feel himself getting defensive.
"Finn, I'm — I'm not upset about stupid karaoke or whatever the fuck, I'm — agh."
Tears are burning behind his eyes and the words get stuck in his throat and he just feels so stupid.
Finn sits up and grabs Noah's face.
"Hey, hey, what is —?" Noah's bottom lip juts out, the tears fully streaming down his cheeks now. Finn's thumb slides over the wet skin, wiping it away. "I'm not mad. Like — like at all. Just talk to me."
He's about to break.
"I hate hiding this. Whatever this is. And I get so — so scared that you're ashamed of me or something and I know it's not about that but like, what if it is? If I was someone else, then you wouldn't have to hide it and we wouldn't need to pretend and — I don't know. I just hate it."
Finn's face softens, his eyebrows pressing together in that sympathetic way that makes Noah's heart twist. He just pulls Noah in, kissing his wet-with-tears-and-spit lips. When they break apart, he yanks Noah into a tight embrace. Noah's face is definitely getting his shirt all wet and snotty, but he can't bring himself to care anymore.
"I love you. You know that," Finn starts. "I do, I promise."
Noah waits, heaving breaths into the soft fabric of Finn's chest. There’s always something painful after he says those words.
"It's just — you also know we can't. Not— not right now, at least."
His heart twists again, a dull ache spreading throughout his ribs. He knew it was coming like it always does. But knowing doesn't soften the blow.
Finn takes a breath before continuing. “You still have like, two years of school left, and I can't just like, drop everything to move to Pennsylvania. And — on top of that, we gotta be careful right now with all the Byler shit. The execs are already halfway to suing you."
Noah lets out a wet chuckle, and pulls up from his chest to look at him.
“I think they're probably gonna sue me anyways," he says, voice cracking. Finn laughs, and Noah drops his head into his lap. "Seriously though, I know. That — that we can't. It's stupid."
There's so much more he wants to say like, 'i love you too, i just wish you weren't ashamed, come visit me more often or at least put a stop to it all together'. But there's no point to it. If this is all he can have of Finn, at least for now, he'll take it.
"It's not stupid,” Finn whispers. “It’s not.”
Noah doesn't have anything to say to that. There’s nothing to be said that they haven’t gone through time after time. Silence passes, more comfortable than it was earlier, and they breathe in each other's air for a while.
After a few minutes, Finn's hand makes its way into Noah's hair, then outlines his earlobe and his cheekbones and his nose. More gentle than Noah thinks he himself could ever be with someone.
For a few moments, however long they might be, Noah’s safe and his brain is quiet. There’s no cameras watching, no co-workers leering or side-eyeing. Finn just holds him.
And when he’s halfway asleep, Finn talks softly. "Wanna watch a movie or somethin'?" Noah keeps his eyes closed, shaking his head ‘no’ and pressing further into Finn's legs. "Food?"
That suggestion — he opens his eyes for. "Please. I'm starving."
Finn smiles like he's trying not to, "Oh, so that's what this is about. You just needed free food."
Noah sits up finally, head spinning and neck aching from the awkward position they were in and smacks Finn in the arm. "Shut up. Get me food," he says, half-whiny. "Now you owe it to me even more."
"Alright, okay. Jesus," Finn huffs in that fake-mad way that he loves to use against Noah. "Brat."
Noah doesn't argue against that, just leans in and kisses him, this time with no tears in the way. His lips are chapped, skin warm and dry but he smells like himself and cologne and it makes Noah feel weak. When he tries to pull away, Finn grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him in to kiss him harder.
Distantly, Noah thinks about how this will only last a couple more days until their next break and then they will be miles away from each other. The knot in Noah's stomach doesn't go away, it probably will never go away until this ends or it becomes something more tangible.
But for now, it's as real as it can be — and Finn loves him, like a friend or a brother or co-worker or something more. And Noah loves him back, will love him back in whatever way Finn wants.