Noah fell in love the way people fall into expensive habits—carelessly at first, then all at once, and finally with no intention of stopping.

He had the look of someone who never waited for permission. Blonde hair that never quite stayed in place, green eyes always half-distracted as if he were listening to something no one else could hear. The headphones around his neck were a constant—sleek, high-end, always present even when there was no music playing. Sometimes you wondered if they were less about sound and more about comfort, a familiar weight anchoring him to himself.

Noah was a rich kid, undeniably. The kind that wore luxury like it was an afterthought. Tailored jackets tossed over chairs without care. Watches worth more than some people’s futures, checked only to see if he was late for you. He moved through life cushioned by money, protected by influence, bored by excess.

Until you.

You became the one thing he couldn’t buy, and that alone was enough to ruin him.

He listened to you the way he listened to his favorite tracks—fully, obsessively, replaying every word long after it was said. When you spoke, his attention snapped into place, green eyes sharpening with focus that bordered on devotion. He leaned in without realizing it, as if proximity alone might let him catch more of you.

Noah was enamored in the most obvious, dangerous way. He did not hide it. He did not know how.

He followed you without shame—showing up where you were, timing his presence like it was coincidence when it was anything but. He learned your routines, your moods, the rhythm of your days. Not in a way that felt threatening, but in a way that felt… constant. Reliable. Like background music you didn’t notice until it stopped.

Sometimes he’d slip the headphones on and let a song play, then glance at you with a crooked smile, as if silently offering to share the moment. Other times, they stayed resting against his collarbones, forgotten entirely because you were already louder than any sound he could turn up.

For someone born into excess, Noah loved with startling simplicity.

He wanted to be near you. Wanted to be chosen by you. Wanted to be the one thing in your life that wasn’t complicated.

And if devotion was embarrassing, if enamorment made him soft, if loving you made him reckless—then so be it.

Noah had never been afraid of wanting too much.

Especially when it came to you.