He nods once. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t.”
He looks unconvinced, but steps off the path to give me space.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask, lowering my camera slightly but keeping my finger close to the shutter.
“Just needed some quiet,” he says after a pause. “I had a rough day.”
I don’t ask what that means. Adrian’s the kind of person you don’t press unless you’re ready for silence as the answer. He’s quieter than the others in the Sin Bin. Not withdrawn, exactly, but watchful. He sees more than he says, and that’s by design.
“You?”
“Photography project,” I say. “Nature and emotion. I’m supposed to capture something that feels ‘alive,’ whatever the hell that means.”
Adrian nods, and for a second, I think he might keep walking. But then he sighs. “Mind if I stay here a bit?”
I don’t, so I shake my head. “You’re good.”
He sits down on a low boulder near the edge of the path, one knee drawn up, arm draped loosely over it. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable. It’s not full of the kind of tension I’ve gotten used to lately. He doesn’t fill the air with chatter or demand anything from me. Just breathes and lets the space be what it is.
I take a few more shots. A close-up of moss, the shimmer of a leaf with water droplets still clinging to the edges. Then I aim the lens in his direction. “Can I?” I ask.
Adrian glances at me, then at the camera. He lifts a shoulder slightly and says, “Sure.”
The moment I look through the lens, something changes.
He’s still, as if he knows how to be framed. The curls falling over his forehead aren’t neat. His hoodie is a little stretched at the sleeves, and the way he sits—bent but grounded—makes him look like part of the forest instead of a visitor.
I click the shutter, and one photo turns into three.
He doesn’t move.
“Thanks,” I say, lowering the camera.
He nods. “You’re good at that.”
I smile faintly. “You’ve seen my stuff?”
“Ryan showed me some.”
I blink, and there’s a twist in my chest I wasn’t expecting. “Really?”
“He said you’re better than most of the art majors he knows.”
Not many people talk about my photography in that way. Most glance, skim, then move on. Ryan’s always been supportive, but hearing that he showed someone else my work without me asking makes me feel incredibly warm and fuzzy.
I exhale slowly and sit on the edge of a nearby tree stump.
“How’s it feel being on your own?” he suddenly asks.
I think about the empty rooms, the stillness, the candle I lit for no reason at all. I think about standing in front of the mirror in lace and not flinching. I think about waking up alone and not hating it.
“Good,” I say, and I actually mean it. “Strange… but good.”
Adrian hums. “Living alone’s not easy.”
“Yeah, but pretending I liked living with ten people wasn’t either.”
