Chapter 6 Under the Same Roof #2
Without the hum of appliances, the sound of traffic outside seemed louder. Headlights occasionally passed through the windows, casting brief patterns across the walls.
Adrian checked his phone again.
Still nothing.
He put it down.
Noah looked at him.
"This is probably the first time you've voluntarily stopped working all week."
"I'm not voluntarily stopping."
"You could work on your phone."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Battery."
Noah smiled.
"So you're trapped."
Adrian looked toward him.
"Apparently."
Noah leaned back.
"I never thought I'd see the day."
"What day?"
"The day Adrian Cole has nothing to do."
"I have plenty to do."
"You're just not doing it."
Adrian considered arguing.
He decided against it.
There was no point.
The darkness made the apartment feel strangely detached from the outside world. They weren't at Vantage. They weren't in a conference room. They weren't preparing for a client presentation.
They were simply two men sitting in the same room.
Adrian found that more unsettling than the power outage.
Noah stretched his arms above his head.
"So."
Adrian looked at him.
"So?"
"Tell me something."
"About what?"
"You."
Adrian frowned.
"Why?"
"Because we've spent almost two weeks arguing about work."
"That's because we're working."
"No."
Noah shook his head.
"We're avoiding."
Adrian didn't respond.
Noah looked toward the dark windows.
"You know what I find interesting?"
"I suspect you're going to tell me."
"You've told me almost nothing about yourself."
"There's nothing particularly interesting."
Noah laughed softly.
"That's the same answer you gave me before."
"It's still true."
"No, it isn't."
Adrian looked at him.
"You seem very certain."
"I am."
"Why?"
"Because everyone has something."
Adrian leaned back.
"Not everyone."
"You do."
Adrian was silent.
Noah waited.
After a moment, he asked, "What did you want to become before all this?"
Adrian knew exactly what he meant.
Before the career.
Before Vantage.
Before the years of deadlines, meetings, clients, and carefully constructed boundaries.
He could have answered honestly.
Instead, he said, "I didn't think that far ahead."
Noah frowned.
"Really?"
"Really."
"That's hard to believe."
"Why?"
"You seem like the kind of person who had his entire life planned by seventeen."
Adrian laughed quietly.
"That's not true."
"What did you want?"
Adrian looked toward the window.
"I don't remember."
Noah studied him.
Adrian knew he hadn't convinced him.
But Noah didn't press.
That surprised him.
Instead, Noah said, "Okay."
Adrian looked back.
"Okay?"
"You don't want to answer."
"I answered."
"You avoided answering."
Adrian almost smiled.
"There's a difference."
"No, there isn't."
Noah leaned back against the couch.
"Fine. Your turn."
"My turn?"
"Ask me something."
Adrian hesitated.
He had spent years asking people questions for practical reasons.
What do you need?
What happened?
When can you deliver?
What's the problem?
He wasn't accustomed to asking questions simply because he wanted to know someone.
He looked at Noah.
"What did you want to become?"
Noah smiled.
"That was easy."
"You asked the question."
"I didn't think you'd actually ask."
"Why?"
"Because you don't seem curious about people."
Adrian considered that.
"Maybe I'm selective."
Noah smiled.
"That's a better answer."
Adrian waited.
Noah looked down at his hands.
The playful expression faded.
"When I was younger, I thought I wanted to make something important."
"Important?"
"Something people remembered."
Adrian listened.
Noah continued.
"Not famous, necessarily. I don't care about that. I just wanted to make something that mattered to someone."
There was no sarcasm in his voice.
No performance.
Just honesty.
Adrian found himself watching him carefully.
"I still want that," Noah said. "That's probably why I get so frustrated when people reduce creative work to numbers and deadlines."
Adrian understood.
"There's nothing wrong with numbers."
"I didn't say there was."
"No."
Noah smiled faintly.
"But sometimes the numbers aren't the point."
Adrian looked toward the dark window.
"What is?"
"The reason someone remembers."
Adrian didn't answer.
Noah continued quietly.
"I want someone to see something I helped create and feel something. Maybe it's excitement. Maybe recognition. Maybe it makes them think differently. I don't know."
He shrugged.
"I just don't want to spend my life making things nobody cares about."
Adrian looked at him.
There was something unexpectedly vulnerable about the admission.
It explained more than Noah probably realized.
The arguments.
The determination.
The refusal to accept being dismissed.
Noah wasn't simply trying to prove he was right.
He was desperate to prove that he belonged.
That he could create something worthy of being remembered.
Adrian understood that feeling.
Perhaps more than he wanted to admit.
"You care a lot," Adrian said.
Noah gave him a small smile.
"Is that a criticism?"
"No."
"Good."
Adrian paused.
Then he said, "It's a strength."
Noah looked at him.
The expression on his face changed.
It wasn't the teasing smile Adrian had become accustomed to.
It was quieter.
Almost grateful.
"Thanks."
Adrian nodded.
They fell silent.
The darkness no longer felt uncomfortable.
Outside, the city continued moving. A car passed below. Somewhere in the distance, a siren sounded and faded.
Noah shifted slightly on the couch.
Adrian remained in the chair.
Neither reached for a phone.
Neither mentioned work.
For the first time since they had met, there was nothing either of them needed to prove.
Adrian found himself thinking about Noah's answer.
He had always assumed Noah's confidence came from certainty.
Now he understood it differently.
Noah was confident because he had decided he couldn't afford not to be.
Underneath that confidence was someone who wanted desperately to be taken seriously.
Someone who wanted his work to matter.
Someone who had probably spent years fighting to make sure nobody could dismiss him.
Adrian wondered how many people had failed to see that.
He wondered whether Noah knew that Adrian had started seeing it.
The thought unsettled him.
But not enough to make him look away.
Noah eventually rested his head against the back of the couch.
"You know," he said quietly, "this isn't terrible."
"What isn't?"
"Being stuck here."
Adrian looked at him.
"I thought you hated the apartment."
"I hate your rules."
"They're reasonable."
"They're excessive."
"You broke half of them."
"Exactly."
Adrian shook his head.
Noah smiled.
The room became quiet again.
Adrian realized he didn't want the electricity to return yet.
That thought surprised him.
He didn't want the lights.
He didn't want the laptops.
He didn't want the work.
He didn't even want the familiar distance of the office.
For one night, he was content to sit there with Noah in the dark.
Neither man said anything else.
They didn't need to.
The silence between them had become comfortable.
And neither wanted to be the first to break it.
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