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.
Adriel's blood went cold.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Landen stood still, eyes glued to Adriel's, his face blank. Unreadable. He looked disheveled in a way Adriel had never seen him. His hair was a mess, blond strands falling across his forehead like he'd been running his hands through it. His shirt was wrinkled, the top button undone, the collar askew.
Then he moved.
He stepped past Adriel into the apartment. No question. Nohello. No waiting for permission, as he walked into the living room.
It was small. Everything in the apartment was small; two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen that opened into the living area. Landen filled it differently than Adriel did. Made it smaller just by being in it. He stood in the center of the room and looked around.
Adriel watched him. Watched him take in the clutter. Jenna's books piled on the coffee table, the ones she was always meaning to return to the library. Her sketches pinned to the fridge with magnets, messy and bright. The throw blanket draped over the couch, the one they'd had since college. The dishes in the drying rack. The shoes by the door.
Landen's gaze moved slowly. Taking it in. Weighing it.
Judging it.
Adriel felt naked.
It was a stupid thing to feel. There was nothing private here, nothing embarrassing, nothing he needed to hide. But Landen was looking at his life, his space, the small ordinary evidence of who he was, and Adriel couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but stand there by the open door and wait for whatever came next.
He hated it.
Hated the way Landen's presence filled the room. Hated the way his own body had gone still and useless. Hated the vulnerability of this, of being seen here, of having nowhere to hide.
He said nothing. His throat wouldn’t work. The words were there, somewhere, but they wouldn't come. Wouldn't form. Wouldn't push past the panic that had lodged itself in his chest the moment he'd opened the door.
Landen finally turned to him.
Those eyes. Those damn eyes. They pinned Adriel to where he stood, still frozen by the open door, still clutching the handle like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
