𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 was a suitable word to describe Noah's presence at the moment. After recovering enough from his blood transfusion to be discharged, he was unheard from for the next passing days. It was safe to say that the events of the last few days were taking a toll on Noah's whole being, and rightfully so. He was struggling to get past how stupid he felt for thinking there could actually be peace.

Monet walked into his quiet home. As she immediately turned to the stairs, she never really realised how untouched his downstairs area actually was, she even wondered if Noah ever ate. With that thought, she went back into the kitchen to pick up an apple for him.

She opened the door to his bedroom to find his bed empty. Though her frantic reaction dialled down once she found him on the ground beside a pile of broken glass near his alcohol cart. "Oi. You should be resting."

She startled him and he slowly turned to look at her. "I broke my glass." She approached him, as he fiddled with the large pieces of the glass shards. As she drew nearer, his bruises were more visible, Mackenzie really did a number on him, even though Noah did almost gauge out his eye.

"You've got others. You shouldn't even be drinking right now." she sighed, she knelt down beside him.

"It was my pretty, floral one—the one I liked." He showed her a piece of glass that was still intact enough for her to see the indented decoration on the bottom rim. Monet studied Noah's sad eyes, his favourite glass seemed to only be the tip of the iceberg of the broken soul. She smiled gently, stroking his cheek with her gloved hand.

   "I'll find you another pretty one, I think I can snatch a few from Westley's apartment." Noah faintly smiled at the sound of that. "Come on, let's get you back into bed, yeah? I'm guessing you ain't eaten in a while either."

Noah groaned as his reply, as Monet tried to help him onto his feet, he hissed in pain. "This is so annoying." he grumbled, flopping onto his bed. Once he painfully rolled into his covers, Monet sat on the bed as well. "I'm tired of feeling like I'm not doing anything right. I took Angelo's offer for a truce because I thought he really meant it, he looked like he did. But then five minutes later, he shanks me." he scoffed.

"You did. You apologised, I know his sister would've definitely appreciated it." Monet assured him. "You're doing the best you can, Mackenzie and Westley are making it difficult, and I'm sure Angelo knows that as well."

"I don't know," he mumbled glumly. "It didn't seem so when he mentioned Mack. I should've fucking strangled him when I had the chance."

   "Yeah, Zara told me that you guys fought," Monet nodded.

   "What parts did she leave out, the bit where she was helping Mack and West with one of their plans and ended up getting a child killed?"

   Shock riddled Monet's face, allowing her to only release a breathless, "Yeah."

   "Thought so. Everyone I had trusted with my life is proving me wrong right now." Noah's eyes fell to the glossy apple that Monet was holding, just as his own eyes were beginning to shimmer with tears.

"Let's talk about something else." She took a bite of the apple, before offering it to him. "You gotta eat something, not just drink whiskey." She laid down close beside him and handed him the apple. He took a bite and sighed.

"Thank you, Mo." he muttered past his chewing.

"For what?" she asked, pulling his arm down gently so she could take a second bite. He chuckled faintly.

"The blood. Just being here. I feel like you're one of the last people I can trust." Monet met his hazel gaze that studied her profile. She turned on her side and stroked his delicate skin along his bruised, stubbled jaw with her fingertips.

   "I've got you." Her smile was as warm as the heat building in her chest. She really wasn't sure whether she'd ever get used to how he looked at her.

"Me too." he whispered. The tension within their stare grew by the second. In the small space between them, Noah lifted his empty hand and tenderly booped her nose. "You've got the most adorable nose."

She giggled in surprise. "Thanks?" Her smile revealed dimples which made him beam with happiness.

"And little dimples, and your lips..." he trailed off, his gaze following his finger to her lips.

"Why're you being such a melt?" she teased softly.

"I'm not being a melt. I just don't think I've told you enough about how beautiful I think you are..." he grinned, then soon furrowed his brows, "Did that sentence make sense? I'm a little drunk, I'll be real."

Monet's smile broadened, as she pulled away, "Finish your apple, then you can flirt." He grumbled then took another bite, offering it to her again.

After non-stop chaos, it was refreshing for the two of them to just spend some time together. Noah was grateful, considering that it'd helped him forget how much physical and emotional pain he was going through. Once only the apple core was left, Monet quickly jogged downstairs to dispose of it.

When she returned, she heard the water from the shower running. Noah was on his feet and had begun untying the knot on his sweatpants. "I was gonna shower."

"You think you'll be good?" she questioned, her brow rising.

"Yeah, I'll be aight. Unless you're trying to join me to make sure." he glanced over his shoulder, leaving the invitation open for her, as he slowly moved to his ensuite.

She breathed, "Okay." He smirked and walked in, climbing into the steaming shower a moment later.

As she undressed in the bedroom, she began to panic. This was the first time they'd revealed themselves to one another, and Monet was sure that she was currently shitting bricks. Regardless, she took a deep breath and finally removed her underwear, before she stepped into the bathroom.

Noah faced the shower wall, as the hot water ran down his back. The steam somehow wrapped his flexed back; the tattoo of the red, Chinese dragon climbing his spine seemed to deepen in colour in the cascading water.

She stepped in and gently eloped her arms around his waist, nuzzling gently with the dragon. Her hair became drenched and heavy while her hands were lightweight, dancing graciously along his torso. He seemed to relax his tense shoulders, just as his arousal intensified.

Her hands retreated and he turned around, soaking in her slim figure. Her body breathed the steam of the hot water, as droplets ran down her warm, brown skin. She couldn't seem to lift her eyes, mesmerised at how big he was growing.

He started at her collarbone, tracing a wet line to her shoulder tip and down her arms to her hands. He drew her close, until their bodies touched. His shaft grew between her legs and he could feel how much she was aching for him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, as he moved her back and forth with his grip on her butt. She whimpered into his lips at the sudden shock of pleasure. Once their lips met, neither of them could keep their moans silent. Noah's back rested against the wall to keep up his distracting pace, leaving Monet as a moaning mess.

"Turn around." he instructed into her ear. She pulled away and did so with ravenous haste. He turned her onto the wall and pressed her against it. Her back arched in hopes of still keeping him near. After letting his hands draw the shape of her hips and perked ass, he pushed himself in, leaning into her neck.

As he gradually sped up his strokes, despite the persistent ache of his healing wound, he gripped her neck and one of her breasts to keep her close. The steamy shower managed to muffle to far-from-silent sounds of pleasure that the two released, as they both met their climaxes.

Though, that didn't stop them from drying off their hair once out of the shower, and proceeding with a second round between the sheets.

•

Tracing hills along her frame before returning his grip onto her butt, Noah was unconsciously smiling. Finally being intimate with a girl he was actually wanting to build with felt like an accomplishment, considering his hefty track record. "Drunk in love" was the appropriate phrase for explaining how the sensuality was making him feel, so much that he could barely feel his wound.

Monet laid along his right side, enjoying his hand combing through her damp afro, while she ran her hand across the inked art on his skin. "Noah," he hummed as she said his name, tilting his head down a little, "which of your tattoos are your favourite?"

"Uh..." He raised to left arm to inspect the multiple different pieces of art that climbed up his forearm to his abdomen. "I have a tattoo of a shoulder angel behind my right ear. I don't even know if it's still visible. It reminds me that I need to have faith in my conscience to do the right thing. It became really important to me when I always thought back to my dad leaving quite early. I always tried to do the right thing for my mum and sister's sake when I was younger." he explained.

"Wow." Monet looked up at him. Momentarily lost in thought, he met her gaze and smiled.

"It makes me feel for Angelo, I guess, having to grow up fast will do a lot to you when making decisions for those you love." he sighed.

"You can still see its little halo." she grinned, placing a delicate finger on his scarred skin. He lightly chuckled. She never actually realised how far it went. It had almost completely swallowed his torso and was spread across relatively close areas. She was tempted to ask, but she resisted. I'll know when he's comfortable, she repeated to herself.

"I wanted a second sleeve, just before my third year of uni, but the world decided to end." he mumbled. "Did you want tattoos?"

"I always liked the ones down the spine, like that dragon of yours. I'm really indecisive though, I never knew what I wanted the tattoo to be." she explained.

"Well, if you could now," he started, straining on his wound slightly to pull Monet on top of him; she gently straddled him, letting her hands explore. "I think you should get a forehead tattoo of my name."

"Bruv, on my forehead?" Monet cackled.

"Yeah. Just to show that you're nobody else's but mine. Or I guess I mean that I want you to be." Somehow, Noah managed to keep his face as still as possible as Monet stared at him in disbelief. He snorted, struggling to stop himself from cringing. "That was so moist, but you get me, right?"

Monet gradually smiled, "I think so. Charming."

"Zara mentioned settling down a few months ago, I said I was just looking for the right person—and it's you. I obviously didn't know that then, but I do now." His hands stroked her skin softly, as she chuckled at his little speech.

"You really are such a melt." She leaned in until their faces were inches from each other. "Well, I'm yours, Noah. All yours." she whispered.

He placed his lips on hers, muttering, "Good." as his hands manoeuvred her onto him properly and she began to swivel her hips. The rest of the atmosphere was filled with nothing but moans of sensual pleasure.

In Monet's search for the abominable brother, she never thought she see herself finding somewhere and someone to call a home during the fact. But being held securely in Noah's arms, as they made love, was certainly something she wouldn't trade for the world.

Noah was euphoric. After years of nothing but paranoia and guilt, this intimate relief was completely different to all the other women. This time, he meant every stroke, every kiss and every word that he heavily moaned into her ear. Every bit of Noah's being was broken with each piece falling apart gradually, but luckily for him, he knew that Monet was what was holding him together—and he loved her for that.