Noah meets her gaze as she turns to look at him, and the smile on his face widen as bit too with an ache through his chest at the thought that is why she learned how to play. "You're gonna have to play me all her favorites including the one she played for you that helped calm you during the storm," he says with a tiny smile, and then he could hear it and play it for her whenever times get rough. It wouldn't be the same (and shouldn't be as it is her mother's), but he would like to if it would help.

All the same, he plays for her and sings for her. He doesn't do it for anyone else really. It's not the kind of growth he's had yet where he could. He looks up at her, meeting her gaze as she breathes in quietly against his chest.

"I was. I really was, and it wasn't easy or anything." It's quiet, low admittance, and then comes another one that he doesn't talk about because he doesn't like thinking of that version of himself. He swallows, and it is sharp. "I was really, really sick. All the time."

That's probably putting it mildly.