Chapter 13
Adriel
Zach was already pulling on his jeans when Adriel lifted his head from the pillow.
The room was dim, lit only by the streetlamp outside and the faint glow from the bathroom where the light had been left on. Adriel's body still hummed with the warmth of what they'd done, that loose-limbed, boneless feeling that always came after.
He wanted to hold onto it. Wanted to stretch it out, let it last.
"Hey." His voice came out soft, still a bit unsteady. He reached out without really thinking, fingertips brushing Zach's wrist. The skin there was warm. "You don't have to go yet."
Zach stilled for a second. Just long enough for Adriel to notice. Just long enough for something to flicker across his face before it smoothed over.
"I do. Early morning, remember?"
He stepped out of Adriel's reach, easy and unhurried, and grabbed his shirt from the back of the chair. His tone was casual. Almost bored.
Adriel sat up a little, the sheet clutching awkwardly to his chest. The room felt too quiet now. The air heavy, pressing in.
"I just thought maybe you could stay." He tried to make it light. "It's late."
Zach exhaled. He buttoned his shirt without looking at him, jaw set.
"You get really clingy after," he said. "You know that?"
The word hit harder than Adriel expected.
Clingy.
It landed somewhere in his chest, sharp and cold, like a stone dropped into still water. He felt his face heat. His throat close up.
"I…" He swallowed. "I didn't mean…"
Zach looked at him then, expression tight.
"It's fine. I have to go, I told you already."
Adriel nodded immediately. Too fast. "Yeah. Of course. Sorry."
Zach grabbed his jacket from the desk chair. Already moving toward the door.
Adriel watched him go. The broadness of his back. The easy way he moved. The hand reaching for the doorknob.
"Just… Don't make this a thing, okay?"
Directed at the door. At the handle. At anything but Adriel.
Adriel shook his head even though Zach couldn't see it. "I won't." His voice came out smaller than he wanted. "I promise."
Zach paused with his hand on the handle. The room was completely still. Adriel held his breath, waited for something; a look, a word, a sign that this wasn't what it felt like.
"Good night."
The door opened. Closed.
Adriel sat there for a while. Staring at the place where Zach had been. At the empty space by the door, the chair with his jacket no longer on it, the bed that suddenly felt too big, the sheets cold where another body had been.
The streetlamp cast pale stripes across the floor. Somewhere in the building, a door opened and closed. Footsteps in the hallway, fading.
He lay back down eventually. Curled onto his side, facing the empty half of the bed, and pulled the blanket tight around himself. Up to his chin, tucked in close, as if that might make the ache in his chest smaller.
He told himself he overreacted.
Zach was right. It had been late. People had things to do. That was normal. That was fine. He was the one who'd made it weird.
He told himself this was how things worked.
He told himself not to ask for more next time. Next time he'd let Zach leave without saying anything. He'd smile and wave and pretend it didn't hurt, and Zach would look at him differently. Would want to stay.
Next time.
∞∞∞
Present
Adriel hadn't slept.
He'd watched the night fade from dark to grey to the pale yellow of early morning without closing his eyes once.
Lain in the same position for hours, curled on his side, blanket pulled up to his chin, staring at the wall.
At the crack in the plaster he'd never noticed before.
At the way the light changed as the hours passed.
His body still remembered.
The press of Landen's mouth on his throat. The sound he'd made, that low groan against his skin. The words.
So pretty.
He could still feel them, like they'd been branded into him. Could still feel the shelf at his back, the warmth of Landen's body pinning him in place, the way his hands had gripped and held and wanted.
He pressed his face into the pillow and made a sound he didn't recognize.
It was almost eight when he reached for his phone. His hand shook as he navigated to the right screen and typed the message to Miriam he'd been turning over in his mind for hours.
Not feeling well. Taking a sick day.
He stared at it. Read it three times. Hit send before he could change his mind.
Then he put the phone face-down on the mattress and pressed his palm flat against his chest, as if he could slow his heart by force.
He didn't have to wait long.
The call came at 9:47. He watched the name appear on the screen, sharp and clear against the white background.
Landen.
His heart stopped. Then started again, too fast, too hard, pounding against his ribs like it wanted out.
The phone kept buzzing. Vibrating in his hand, warm against his palm.
He didn't answer. He watched the call go to voicemail. Watched the screen go dark. Held his breath until it was over.
Thirty seconds later, it buzzed again.
He felt something crack open in his chest. The panic rising, slow at first and then faster, a tide he couldn't stop.
Pretty. Landen had called him pretty. With his mouth on his skin. With his hands in his hair. With his body pressed against him in the low light of the archive.
Pretty.
The word lodged somewhere deep, wrong and familiar.
Zach had called him pretty too. The first time, early on, sitting on that couch.
You're pretty. And Adriel had believed him.
Had let himself believe it, let it warm him from the inside, let it mean something.
Right up until the moment Zach had shown him exactly what that word was worth. What he was worth.
Pretty was a lie. Pretty was something men said when they wanted something. Pretty was the hook, and once you bit, once you believed, they showed you the truth, that you were clingy, needy, too much. That you weren't pretty at all. That you were just convenient until you weren't.
The phone buzzed again.
He pressed the button to silence it. His heart still too fast, his breath too shallow, his skin too hot.
The knock came at his door just after ten.
"Adriel?" Jenna's voice; muffled through the wood, but worried.
He didn't answer. Pulled the blanket higher, as if that could hide him.
The door opened anyway. She crossed to his bed like she'd done a thousand times before, sat on the edge, her hand finding his shoulder through the blanket.
"Hey." Soft. "You're late for work."
"Not going."
She tugged at the blanket, gentle. "What's up? You okay?"
He shook his head, face still pressed to the pillow. "I'm fine. Just sick."
"You're a terrible liar. You always have been. Remember in sixth grade when you tried to tell Mrs. Patterson the dog ate your homework? You didn't even have a dog."
He said nothing.
Jenna waited. She was good at waiting.
"Something happened," he said finally. Small. Muffled. "Yesterday. At work."
And then, as if the dam breaking, the words spilled out of his mouth. He told her about the kiss. Not all of it, but enough.
When he finished, the room was quiet.
"So," Jenna said slowly, "the man you've been half in love with since you started that job finally kissed you. And you ran. And now he's calling."
Adriel made a sound into the pillow.
"Ads." Her voice was gentle in a way that made his chest ache.
"He called me pretty." He turned his head just enough to look at her. Eyes red, face blotchy, hair a mess.
Jenna's expression shifted. Something flickered there; understanding, maybe. She waited.
"Pretty is a lie." His voice cracked. "It was always a lie. Zach called me pretty too.” He laughed, ugly and broken. "And then he fucked me over."
He pressed his fist to his mouth. "So why would this be different?"
Jenna was quiet for a long moment.
"Because maybe some people actually mean it," she said carefully. "Because maybe Landen isn't Zach." She reached out, brushed the hair back from his forehead the way she used to when they were kids, when he was sick or sad or both. "Maybe he sees something you've never let yourself see."
Adriel shook his head.
"You should answer him," Jenna said. "At least once. Find out what he has to say."
"I can't."
"Ads…"
"I can't." His voice broke on it. "I can't hear him explain it away. I can't hear him say it was a mistake, or he was caught up in the moment, or…" He stopped. Breathed. "I can't do this again, Jen. I can't."
She looked at him for a long time, her gaze warm and worried.
"Okay," she said finally. "Okay." She squeezed his shoulder once, then stood. "You’ll have to face him at some point, you know? So might as well get it over with."
∞∞∞
Later that evening, the pounding started.
Adriel was in the same place he'd been all day. The room had gone dark around him without him noticing. Sunset had come and gone. The streetlamp outside cast its pale stripes through the blinds again. Jenna had left that afternoon, saying something about sleeping at her boyfriend’s place. He hadn’t really listened.
The pounding was loud. Insistent.
He closed his eyes.
It was probably a neighbor. The guy upstairs sometimes locked himself out. Or a delivery to the wrong apartment. Or someone looking for Jenna. It didn't matter. He had no strength for any of it. No voice to call out, no will to get up.
He pulled the blanket higher and waited for it to stop.
It came again. Harder this time. Longer.
Adriel pressed his face into the pillow.
Go away, he thought. Please just go away.
The knocking continued. He lay there for what felt like ages, listening to it. Letting it wash over him. Waiting for whoever it was to give up and leave.
They didn't.
Eventually, Adriel pushed the blanket back.
His body protested. Stiff from lying in the same position for hours, heavy with exhaustion, hollow from not eating. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, head bowed, trying to find the strength to stand.
He stood, walked out of his bedroom, through the short hallway., to the front door, and opened it.
Landen was on the other side.