Noah sits on the hood of his old car, legs pulled up, hoodie half-unzipped like he doesn’t care how cold it is. His headphones leak the faint hum of Graceland Too, and he doesn’t look up until he hears you dragging your feet across the pavement.

“You made it,” he says quietly, surprise slipping into his voice. “Didn’t think you actually would.”

You shrug, voice small. “Didn’t… wanna be home.”

Noah scoots over, giving you space beside him. “Yeah. I get that.” You sit, hugging your knees, shivering slightly.

He watches you for a second too long. “You been crying?” he asks softly.

You wipe your cheek, trying to play it off. “Maybe.”

Noah swallows and looks down at his hands. “That song—you know the one.” He taps his headphones. “Feels like… you. Like how you run from everything but still let me tag along anyway.”

You let out a tired laugh. “I don’t run.”

“You do,” he says, nudging your shoulder gently. “And I follow. That’s kind of our thing.”

A long silence passes, not uncomfortable—just heavy. You breathe out, shaky. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Noah’s expression softens instantly, all the grumpy walls he shows everyone else cracking just for you.

“You don’t need anywhere else,” he murmurs. “You show up here, and… that’s enough for me.”

The parking lot lights buzz overhead. You speak again—barely above a whisper. “Can I just… stay for a bit?”

He nods without hesitation. “You can stay as long as you want.” His voice breaks the tiniest bit. “I’ll sit here all night with you if I have to.”

He shifts closer, shoulder brushing yours. “So… wanna tell me what happened? Or should we just listen to sad music and pretend we’re okay?”