Chapter 22
Adriel
Adriel hadn't wanted to come.
He'd said that, multiple times, while Jenna was getting ready. Had listed all the reasons why staying home was the better option; he was tired, he had work tomorrow, he didn't really feel like being around people. Jenna had ignored every single one of them.
"You need fresh air," she'd said, pulling on her jacket. "You need to be around people. You can't stay home again, waiting for your asshole boyfriend to call."
So here he was.
Pressed against the edge of a crowded bar, nursing a drink he hadn't really wanted, letting the noise wash over him without really participating.
It wasn't terrible, actually. The music was loud enough to drown out his thoughts.
The crowd meant no one was paying attention to him.
And the two drinks he'd had were doing their work, loosening his shoulders, dulling the sharp edges of the world.
He was almost relaxed.
Almost.
Then he looked toward the bar and saw Zach.
He was standing near the bar with a group of friends, laughing at something, that familiar easy confidence radiating off him.
Relief flooded through Adriel. He hadn't expected to see him here. Hadn't known Zach was coming out tonight.
"Oh," Adriel said, already smiling. He turned to Jenna, gestured toward the bar. "Zach’s here."
Jenna followed his gaze, raised her eyebrows.
"Go say hi," she said.
Adriel hesitated for half a second. His hand went to his shirt, smoothing it down. His hair? Probably fine. He took a breath.
The crowd parted around him. His focus had narrowed to a single point; Zach, at the bar, laughing with his friends. Getting closer step by step.
"Hey," he said, touching Zach's arm lightly. "I didn't know you were coming out tonight."
Zach turned.
For a fraction of a second, less than a second, really, Adriel saw something flicker across his face. Then it was gone.
Zach's expression shifted into something flat. Irritated. His eyes flicked past Adriel, scanning the people around them.
"Do I know you?" Zach asked.
The words didn't make sense at first. Adriel laughed. Confused. It had to be a joke; dry humor Zach sometimes used, the kind that took a second to land.
"What?" he said. "It's me."
Zach's mouth tightened. He stepped back. Created distance between them. One of his friends looked between them, curious.
"I think you've got the wrong person," Zach said. His voice was sharp now. Cutting. "I don't know you."
The floor seemed to tilt. Adriel's smile faded. He felt it go, felt his face shift into something else, something he couldn't control.
"What are you talking about?" he asked quietly. His voice came out smaller than he meant it to. "Zach, it's me.”
Nothing. No crack in the mask. No flicker.
"We've been together for over a year," Adriel said, and he hated the way his voice sounded; pleading, thin, desperate. "You were at my apartment on Tuesday. You…" His voice wavered. "Why are you doing this?""
Zach cut him off.
"Look," he said, louder now, "I don't know who you are. I've never seen you before in my life."
"That's not true," Adriel whispered. His eyes were burning. "You know that's not true. Zach, please…"
"Jesus Christ." Zach pinched the bridge of his nose, performed exasperation for his audience. Then he looked at Adriel, really looked at him, eyes moving over him, top to bottom, slow and deliberate, and his lip curled. “Just, fuck off, you freak!”
Freak.
Heat rushed to Adriel's face, scalding and immediate. Then it drained away completely, leaving him cold. He became suddenly aware of how many people were watching; Zach's friends, people at nearby tables, strangers who had nothing better to do than witness this moment.
His throat closed. He couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything except stand there, frozen, while the world rearranged itself around him.
Zach turned away. Just like that. Dismissed him. Turned back to his friends, already laughing again, already moving on, as if nothing had happened. As if Adriel wasn't standing there, disintegrating.
One of his friends said something Adriel didn't hear. They all laughed.
Adriel stood there for a moment too long. Long enough for the laughter to register. Long enough for the tears to start; hot and humiliating, spilling down his cheeks before he could stop them.
Then everything collapsed.
His vision blurred. His chest ached like something had been ripped out of it. He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything except stand there and fall apart.
∞∞∞
Present
Adriel didn't remember leaving the party.
One moment he was standing at the edge of the room, the sound of voices and music pressing in on him from all sides, Zach's smirk burned into his vision like a brand.
The next moment he was outside, the cold night air hitting his face hard enough to steal his breath, and he had no memory of the space between.
His hands were shaking so badly he fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it onto the pavement. He caught it, barely, and shoved it into his pocket without looking at the screen.
He walked.
Didn't know where he was going at first. Feet moving, the city passing around him in blurs of light and sound that he couldn't process. His mind was somewhere else entirely, spinning faster and faster, a spiral with no bottom.
Of course it was a joke.
Why would someone like Landen ever want someone like him for real?
Why would that ever make sense?
He could see it so clearly now. Landen and Zach, old friends, meeting for drinks. Comparing notes. Trading stories.
The desperate one. The fat one.
He could hear Zach's voice saying it, that particular tone of amused dismissal. Could hear Landen laughing along, adding his own details, the two of them bonding over how easy it had been.
How grateful Adriel had been. How he'd believed every word, every touch.
The humiliation burned hotter with every step. It crawled up his neck, spread across his cheeks, settled into his chest like something living.
He'd been so stupid. So naive. So desperate for someone to want him that he'd ignored every warning sign, every voice that had tried to tell him this couldn't be real.
Because it wasn't real.
It had never been real.
He walked faster. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. The city blurred around him, meaningless.
By the time he got home, he was barely holding together.
He fumbled with his keys, dropped them, picked them up, finally got the door open. Kicked off his shoes in the hallway without bothering to untie them and went straight to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
He turned the shower on as hot as it would go. Waited for the steam to rise. Then he stepped under the spray fully clothed, not thinking, needing to feel something other than this.
The heat soaked through his shirt, his pants, his skin.
He stood there for a moment, water streaming down his face, and then he stripped quickly, hands shaking so badly he could barely work the buttons.
He peeled the wet clothes away, dropped them in a heap on the tile, and stood under the spray with nothing left to hide behind.
The water hit his skin hard. Relentless. Hot enough to turn his flesh pink.
Something in him finally gave.
He slid down the tiled wall, his back scraping against it, until he was sitting on the floor of the shower with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped tight around himself.
The water pounded down on him from above, soaking his hair, running into his eyes, mixing with the tears he couldn't stop.
He cried until it hurt. Until his throat burned and his chest ached and his head throbbed with the pressure of it.
The sounds that came out of him were ugly; broken sobs that he couldn't control, couldn't muffle, couldn't do anything but let happen.
He pressed his forehead against his knees and cried into the space between his arms and his chest, the water swallowing most of the noise but not all of it.
Every thought looped back to the same place.
He'd known this would happen. He'd known, somewhere deep, that this was too good to be true.
That wanting something too much was the surest way to lose it.
He'd told himself that story so many times over the years, had built his whole life around its sad, familiar shape, and still, still, he'd let himself believe.
His phone buzzed somewhere outside the bathroom.
Once. Twice. Again.
He heard it through the rush of water, a faint vibration against whatever surface it was resting on. He knew without looking who it was. Landen's name on the screen, bright and insistent, calling and calling and calling.
He didn't answer. He couldn't. The idea of hearing Landen's voice right now, of hearing that familiar tone, pretending like nothing had happened, felt unbearable. Like it would finish breaking whatever fragile pieces were left.
The buzzing continued.
Stop. Start. Stop.
The silence that followed felt just as loud.
∞∞∞
Adriel didn't sleep.
He had left the shower eventually; the water had run cold, shocking him back into his body, and he'd turned it off and stumbled out into the steam-filled room.
He'd dried himself mechanically, moving through the motions.
He'd made it to his bed and collapsed there, wet hair soaking into the pillow, eyes open and fixed on nothing.
The thoughts didn't stop.
They circled and circled, a carousel of shame and humiliation and the same images playing over and over.
You're so stupid, the voice in his head whispered.
You're so fucking stupid. How could you believe it? How could you let yourself believe it?
He didn't have an answer.
When exhaustion finally dragged him under, it was shallow and restless, punctured by half-dreams and jolts of panic. He'd drift for a while, somewhere between waking and sleeping, and then some image would surface, and he'd jerk awake, heart pounding, gasping for air.
Then the cycle would start again.
The next morning passed in a blur.