The beginning of January arrives almost unnoticed. Or it would, if not for the exception that the sun starts setting at half past three in the afternoon then at quarter past then at three, the daylight becoming this almost cryptid presence in Alaska, barely there until it vanishes again.

Noah is a steady presence in my life now, so much that I can't imagine the time when he was not here. It seems too normal, too right having him here, sharing my living space with him, my food, my random thoughts, the good and the bad.

The fact that we are playing house isn't lost on both of us, but we haven't talked about what it actually means. Even though I was in a relationship with Tom for four long years we've never lived together so it's not something I knew how to do. But this, here, with Noah, is the happiest I've ever been.

He doesn't sleep in the bed some nights. After some time I would hear him leave quietly to go to the living room or the kitchen. A few times, before finding out the real reason, it caught me off guard. Those days in the beginning when he would just leave my bed after we had sex were creeping up on me. I'd be lying through my teeth if I said I wasn't nervous about him waking up tomorrow and regretting all of this, or deciding to just leave. Even though he never mentions anything of the sort, it's still a fear in the back of my mind.

The thing is, I didn't need him to say any words to me—not most of the time. I feel it in everything he does, how he treats me and the way he looks at me. Unfortunately, I am still me, and my insecurities try to smother my happiness sometimes, telling me he'd eventually tire of me because he's still so young, that he didn't really want me as much as I wanted him, and that one day I would fuck it up and lose him.

When he invited me to meet his family and spend the afternoon celebrating his birthday with them, I felt like those words of love that I was feeling were ready to come out. I'm doing it today. When we come back home, I'm giving him his birthday present, and I'll give him my heart. I'll ask him to be my boyfriend, I'll tell him I'm in love with him.

Glancing at him where he's sitting on the passenger seat of my truck, an overwhelming sense of love and need washes over me. Seeing the way he looks back at me... it feeds my starving soul, and I'm drowning in all the possibilities he and I could have. The life we could share together. All the mundane things we could experience together.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" A shy, boyish smile tugs at his lips.

I decide to go with honesty. "I'm just really happy to be here with you."

Noah curls his fingers with mine and pulls my hand up to his thigh and he keeps our hands joined until we reach his home.

How will the Summervilles react when they see me as their nephew's... boyfriend? Not yet boyfriends, but that's what we are, aren't we, that's what it feels like. Fuck, I should have asked him before we went there, to avoid any awkward situation with Noah in front of his family. And why do I sound like a kid asking him to the prom or something?

But after we exchange pleasantries with Paul and Adel, that awkwardness of the situation very quickly vanishes when nobody mentions anything about what I am to Noah and Adel announces, "Dinner's ready."

Somerville's small home pulses with a warm current as the four of us devour Adel's cooking. Somehow Noah's illness fiasco comes up and I become the butt of everyone's jokes when I came running to his aid like a love-sick puppy. Even Paul joins in. And through it all, I can't help but constantly seek Noah's face with my eyes to find his on mine just as frequently. I feel my insides warm as I watch him. He is so animated and...free. He has finally let his guard completely down and is just himself.

By the time dinner is done, and we're moving to the living room, every fibre in my being craves to make our relationship official and I have no interest in pretending otherwise. Even at work, I'm considering talking to Janet from HR to see if there should be any issues with me dating my employee. I doubt it, but if there is, I am willing to change my position or ask for a transfer.

We sit next to each other on a comfortable sofa, digging in a delicious birthday cake served on a paper plate when Adel's phone rings from somewhere in the other room. Only a couple of minutes pass before she comes back, with a dim expression on her face.

"Noah, dear...It's your mother."

Noah stills and I see the easy expression on his face disappear only to be replaced with lines of tension that seemed to age him instantly. An awkward silence falls over the room and lasts until Noah collects his plate and with a strange calmness takes it over to the table. He doesn't respond. He has that deer in the headlights look that chills your bones and somehow I just know that things will never be the same after this. I stare at his uneaten cake on the table as he walks into the kitchen with Adel, leaving me and Paul alone.

"That boy has been through so much. I thought he was finally going to be able to get some peace," he mutters with a voice full of rage.

"But his mother called. It's a good thing?" I can't seem to grasp the meaning of all this. I know that Noah needs his mother, that he's been looking for her so I need this to be a good thing, a happy story that will heal Noah's wounds. But Paul's next words are a harsh whisper that allude to anything but a happy story.

"Dylan, don't let him go back to the Lower 48."

Speech escapes me as his words wash through me. "Um, I can't... I can't tell him what to do." I murmur, even as Paul's words take root deep inside of me. He is going to leave.

"I think Noah really cares about you, he needs you in his life. And he'll listen to you," his voice is clear when he looks at me straight in the eye.

"But that's his mother."

"She wasn't that for a very long time. He shouldn't be going there." His agitation surprises me. I don't know this man all that well but I know for a fact that he rarely shows any kind of anger–he is more of a slow-burn type who is likely to shut down before blowing up.

I take deep breath. No matter how hard I was trying to convince myself that what we had built so far was enough, the nagging feeling inside of me was there–Noah kept secrets from me. I know he doesn't owe me anything. I am grateful that he felt comfortable enough to share whatever he already shared with me. Nevertheless, he is hiding something. And what if that is the thing that will break us apart?

I can't stand listening to Paul anymore. My heart is breaking for so many different reasons. All of this is confusing as hell and I never felt so damn torn about anything in my life. Standing up I go looking for Noah, not caring that I cut Paul off mid-sentence. I need to know what's going on.

I open the door and feel my heart sink at the sight of him gripping the edge of the granite countertop as if trying to get control of himself. I go to stand next to him, but as soon as I near him, he says, "She called to say happy birthday. She also said she's dying."

"What?" I ask, not sure I'd heard him correctly.

He shakes his head. "I have no fucking clue what's going on. She mentioned being in a hospice care facility, somewhere outside of LA. She has a non-curable kidney disease. Happy birthday to me," he says with a mock smile.

"It's going to be ok," I whisper. It really isn't, because this is the worst possible outcome for Noah. At first I don't think he hears me. But then he looks at me.

"Yeah, of course it's going to be ok, I'm already used to people dying around me all the fucking time. Let's go back to eat some cake."

"Noah, wait..."

I slip my hand into his, giving it a small squeeze. Letting him know without words that I'm here for him. Whatever he needs I'll give it to him.

"I'm ok, Dylan. Come on, let's go."

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