Page 11 of Saving Noah

It seemed like centuries since someone had touched him with an emotion other than anger or for strictly business. The hand against him radiated a warmth and comfort that was almost enough to keep him out of the panic attack zone. Almost.

“In the bathroom, in a basket under the cabinet. You’ll see them. Thanks,” he whispered. The feeling of being weak and pathetic coursed over him again, but the drugs were necessary. Sure, it sucked he had to have some of the strongest drugs on the market in order to merely cope with everyday life, but it was what it was.

He heard Zachary fumbling around in his cabinets and then heard him release a string of curse words that could’ve made a sailor blush. Noah was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear the profanity, but years of being fucking terrified of everything had heightened some of his senses, especially his hearing. An embarrassed blush stained his cheeks when faced with the reality that his stock of drugs had shocked the good doctor. He was so damned tired of being judged by people who couldn’t begin to understand what ate at his soul…taking away the very freedoms of life the vast majority of the world took for granted.

Did anyone honestly think he wanted to be this way? At Cameron’s urging, he’d joined an online chat group for others who suffered with agoraphobia. Seeing the comments and connecting with other people suffering through the same symptoms as he did had been helpful. On the other hand, it was an open chat group and anyone could comment. As it turned out, many people either didn’t understand their struggles or weren’t tolerant of what they perceived as a weakness. He got to witness with his own eyes the comments people made about his illness and the people who suffered from agoraphobia. It wasn’t pretty.

Just go outside, for fuck’s sake. Stop being such a coward and join the rest of the world—we’ll give you something to be scared over. Face your fears. Stay where you are; nobody wants crazy people like you out in the world, fucking everything up for us sane people.

The comments went on and on, mostly negative but with a few positives sprinkled in for good measure. It was strange how easily one could forget the positive comments and only focus on the negative shit. There could be one hundred positive, uplifting remarks and one negative. Noah would always focus on the negative.

Noah shook his head to refocus. He needed those damn pills He had an en suite bathroom. How long could it take Zach to bring him the drugs? His chest started tightening up. Sweat coated his upper lip. He still sucked air in through his mouth, but the gasps were shallow and starting to get worse. Just when he was about to try standing again, Zachary rounded the corner, carrying the small basket, a glass of water, and a huge-ass frown. Noah wanted to ignore the frown, but couldn’t.

“Stop judging me, asshole. I don’t even know what you’re doing here. Give me my pills and get out. If I needed someone to look at me with disgust, I’d look in the mirror.” He eased up on his elbow and reached out, intending to snatch the basket the second Zachary was within reaching distance. “Give me.”

Zachary remained just out of reach. Bastard. His gray eyes shifted between Noah and the basket of drugs. Noah could see the battle taking place inside the good doctor’s pretty head. It pissed him off even more.

Zach sighed. “Please tell me you don’t take all of these. Not only are these drugs dangerous, but some of them shouldn’t be mixed.”

“Hand me my goddamned pills. I have a fucking prescription for all of them, so get off your high horse and make yourself useful. Hand. Them. To. Me.”

“I’m not on my high horse. I’m worried about you falling off yours. Hell, whatever-your-name-is, Goliath from the Bible couldn’t take this many drugs without landing on his ass, and you’re barely above twink size.”

“Give me my medication. Please.” He hated begging for anything, but even more than that, he hated Zachary seeing how weak he was. Taking the drugs prescribed to him messed with his body and mind, but they managed to keep the panic attacks from being an everyday part of his life.

“No.”

Noah couldn’t believe what he heard. No? Was Zach fucking kidding him? It was his medication. He wanted them. That should be the end of the story. Apparently, it wasn’t. He plopped his head back on the pillow, surprised Zachary, a doctor, would withhold his medsandsomehow Noah was still breathing instead of hyperventilating. “Why not? You’ve seen me in action. You have to know how badly I need them.”

Zachary looked back down into the small basket holding his lifeline. Frowned. “What are all these for?” He frowned again. “What is your name? You were about to tell me. It’s weird not knowing what to call you. Help a guy out here.”

“You help a guy out and give me my medication,” he countered.

Zachary set the basket on the dresser, well out of Noah’s reach, and crossed his arms over his chest. “If you don’t tell me your name, I’m going to come up with some stupid pet name like kitten or pup. I’m going to make it as silly as possible. Save yourself and tell me your name.” Zachary used it as a threat, but Noah was afraid he might actually enjoy having someone call him a cute endearment. Nobody’d ever given him a pet name. More than that, he wanted to hear Zachary call him by his real name. John wasn’t real. He liked to pretend John was the weak one, the coward afraid to leave his apartment building. Noah was strong.

That, of course, equaled bullshit. JohnandNoah were weak. “Noah St. Clair. Nobody’s supposed to know it, so keep it to yourself. Can I have my medication now?”

“Noah. I like it much better than John Doe. Do you still need your meds? You seem to be breathing and cussing just fine.” Zachary looked quite smug with himself.

Dammit, the bastard was right. The panic attack had passed. Maybe being pissed acted as an anti-panic-attack weapon. Nah. He stayed pissed with himself pretty much around the clock, and the panic attacks still happened. “Yes, I need my medication. This isn’t a joke, Zachary. I’m sick. I don’t take antidepressants for the hell of it. I need them.”

“Have you tried any other methods of treatment? Psychotherapy? Meditation? Relaxation?” He moved closer to Noah and sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the basket of pills well out of Noah’s reach.

“The meds work fine. I don’t need anything else.” He would love for there to be another solution. He hated the drugs. He hated how they made him feel. He was a twenty-two-year-old who couldn’t get an erection without the help of Viagra. Well, Viagra or Zachary. Visions of Zachary in the gym had managed to get him hard on several occasions. “What’s your problem, anyway? You’re a doctor, for crying out loud. What kind of doctor is against prescription medication?” Noah got more and more irritated as his conversation with the hot doctor progressed but, oddly enough, it didn’t seem to be triggering any of his normal reactions: panic attack, fight or flight, piss himself.

Okay, he hadn’t done the last one yet, but Cameron laughed about the possibility of it happening all the time. Noah couldn’t begin to understand why his neighbor brought out this side of him, but he liked it. He liked it a lot. He almost felt normal.

Right. As if normal people fought over a basket of antidepressants. Normal people fought over money, television rights, and sex.

Actually, the entire interaction with his neighbor made absolutely no sense whatsoever, crazy or sane. Zachary had lived next to him for three months and barely spoken to him. When they shared an elevator, Zachary would station himself on the far side of the small box, hugging the corner as though he were the coward instead of Noah. When Noah caught Zachary looking at him out of the corner of his eye, Zachary’s expression held a mixture of disdain and confusion. It’d been that way from the very beginning, as if Zachary hated him on sight. Noah was weird, but it usually took people a little longer to notice there was something different about him. Watching them trying to figure out what wasoffabout him would have been comical if it weren’t so sad. His neighbor didn’t even try to figure it out; he’d hated him from the get-go.

Yet, here he sat, in Noah’s apartment, arguing with him over something that wasn’t his business. Noah had been floating on the outskirts of reality while in the hospital, but he could have sworn he’d heard Zachary’s voice speaking softly to him. He’d called him sweet names and sounded as if he really cared. Which didn’t make one damned bit of sense. Even now, he sent out anI carevibe Noah desperately wanted to believe. Of course, that was a big part of Noah’s problem; he was always desperate. At one time in his life, he’d been desperate for attention. Craved it more than one might consider healthy. Now, he was desperate to be invisible.

“I’m not against prescription medications, Noah. I’m against the abuse of prescription medications,” Zachary said, still lounging on the edge of Noah’s bed like he owned the fucking place…and Noah.

Warm waves of delight washed over Noah when Zachary said his name. It’d been so long since he’d heard it. For a while, when he’d still been trying to hold onto his old life, he’d looked in the mirror every morning and every night and said his name out loud. It’d been his attempt at keeping a part of him alive. He’d failed. Eventually, Noah had disappeared and there was nothing left but John. The pathetic man who depended on someone else for fucking toilet paper.

He’d thought Noah was lost forever until Zachary appeared in his life. Little by little, day by day, Noah struggled to come out and play.

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