Chapter Seven

While Assad and his friends ate and talked together during their get-together Adam waited patiently in his apartment downstairs. He couldn't get himself to do anything but sit at his work desk, listening to the muffled voices coming from above. He told himself that he wasn't spying. He was just sitting around and waiting for them to leave so that he could go upstairs and meet Assad. That was partially true. Partially because when the voices would wander off to a distance where he couldn't hear them, he would grow frustrated.

Adam already knew a lot about Assad. The younger man talked too much, but there was a want to keep knowing more about him that Adam couldn't shake off. Knowing small things like the man was left-handed, always skipped a cracked stair, and used the same washing machine setting regardless of what he was washing were random knowledge nuggets that Adam kept.

Somewhere along the line, Adam took a nap on his seat, and when his eyes peeled open and caught a glance at the time on his computer monitor, he stood up, panicked that he must be too late to meet with Assad as he had planned.

He crammed for his phone, clicking the message notification from half an hour ago.

Message from: Assad.

I just wanted to check if you were still coming to watch a movie.

SUNDAY 11:02 PM.

The message had come in thirty minutes ago, and Adam wondered if he should reply or just get out of his clothes and head to bed.

After a few minutes of pacing around, he decided to head upstairs to check if Assad was awake. It wasn't like the man's apartment wasn't close by, and it wouldn't hurt to check. Adam left his apartment and went up the stairs before wandering over to the door he had come to know was Assad's. A ball of hope formed in his chest when he noticed the light coming out of the window. He hesitated a bit before raising his balled fist to knock on the door a few times.

"Who's there?"

Adam perked up, licking his lips. "It's Adam," he said, still getting used to the sound of his own voice. When you were alone you didn't have to talk much, and talking for Adam had, at some point become rare and even odd to do.

There wasn't a word in response from the other end, but there was the sound of footsteps and before Adam could ask a follow-up question, the door had flung open.

There was Assad, wide-eyed with a smile so wide that it looked like it hurt.

"I thought you weren't coming," Assad said, giving Adam a look over. The older man looked down at the welcome mat, feeling his face warm up as he recounted the conditions that made him late. He couldn't tell Assad that he had been dressed and waiting since six in the evening and had slept off at some point, so instead, he just shrugged his shoulders.

"I overslept," he half lied. He had indeed shut his eyes for what he has guessed would be a few minutes, not two hours.

"That's fair," Assad said, stepping away from his door. Adam walked in, and Assad closed the door behind them both. For once since Adam started coming over to Assad's apartment it didn't smell like food. The younger man had packed things up and cleaned up the kitchen. Adam noticed that the television in the living room was on, and there was a paused movie on the screen.

"I already started, but we can start from the beginning," Assad explained, coming up behind Adam.

"It's alright, you don't have to do that," Adam mumbled, looking over at Assad who had now wandered over the fridge.

"I packed up the food, but you can still have some of my portions if you're okay with using my own bowls," Assad said, looking up from the opened fridge door.

"That's fine," Adam said under his breath, hugging himself since he felt weird not holding anything. "I can use your bowls." Assad smiled at that before closing the fridge and moving to grab snacks off the cupboards. He was wearing a simple sweater over a pair of joggers, just like Adam. Assad had something of weird head covering on, but Adam thought it would be too rude to ask what it was.

Assad walked past Adam soon after, snacks in hand. Adam followed him, joining him on the carpet.

"I haven't gone far; it's mostly just been character backgrounds and names. I'll tell you who's who when they show up," Assad said, and Adam nodded, watching the man open a bag of lays before unpausing the television with the remote.

"Do you want to share the blanket?" Assad asked, pulling the cream blanket he had behind him to the front. He held one end of it out towards Adam, who nodded and took it without another word.

At first, the two just sat in silence and watched the show, but Adam was having a hard time concentrating. It wasn't that the show was bad. It was decent. The problem was that Adam was sitting next to Assad, and it was making him too self-conscious.

They were sitting close enough for their thighs to touch and their shoulders to bump from time to time. They were also sharing a blanket and a bag of lays.

This was normal.

This was what friends did, or at least that's what Adam had to convince himself of because his mind was going haywire. He felt hot, and he wanted to blame the heating, but the rundown apartment barely had any, to begin with.

"Hey."

Adam almost jumped out of his skin at the feeling of Assad's breath on his face. He turned to find that the man had a confused look on his face.

"I've been trying to talk to you for the last minute," Assad explained, leaning away. "You zoned out, don't you like the movie?"

Adam shrugged, pulling his knees to his chest. "I don't know," he said, knowing that it would confuse Assad, but he couldn't lie anymore. He wasn't fine, and his chest would implode if he had to sit next to Assad in silence for the remaining hour.

"You don't know?" Assad repeated as his lips formed a thin line.

"I'm sorry," Adam mumbled, feeling like an idiot. He had been very excited to come over, and here he was, ruining everything.

Assad sighed. "It's okay, you can leave if you want. I can go pack up your food," he said, making to get up but Adam reached out for his hand. Assad was shocked at first, but he let the older man pull him back to the carpet to sit next to him.

"Or, we can do something else, I think." Adam's voice was small, but Assad heard him right.

"I??" Assad paused, looking over at the television. "Like what?" he ended up asking instead, deciding to go along with what Adam wanted to do.

"We can talk," Adam mumbled, and Assad stared at him. "About your schoolwork," Adam offered, watching as Assad's expression shifted. The man looked like he was deep in thought.

"And your work," Assad added, sounding like he was making a case for his side of the deal. Adam froze up at first, but he nodded, deciding that it was only fair. Besides, what could Assad possibly ask about his work that he wouldn't like the share?

"Okay, I'll go first," Adam said after a period of silence. It felt like he was at a sleepover and sharing secrets. In a way, that was what was happening if someone thought about it hard enough. It was already one in the morning, and Adam wasn't planning on leaving unless Assad said he couldn't sleep on the floor.

"You're an art student, so where's your stuff," Adam asked, looking around the living room like art materials would appear out of the blue. "Do you paint in your room or something?"

"Yes, actually," Assad replied, making Adam's eyes go wide. "I'm pretty neat about it, so I don't make a mess."

"Oh."

"Do you want to see some of my stuff? I have pictures saved on my phone," Assad said, fishing for his phone on top of the coffee table behind them without waiting for a response from Adam. Soon, he was showing the man his art projects from the past few months. Assad had a distinct style, something that Adam felt was weird for someone who was studying under professors. A lot of students just copied their teacher, but Assad looked like he had a good head on his shoulders and was simply applying what he was taught, not copying.

Good.

Adam hated copycats.

"You're frowning. Is it that bad?" Assad asked, laughing at his own joke as Adam blinked and looked away from his phone.

"No, it's not bad," the older man clarified. "It's really good."

Assad seemed shocked by the compliment. He looked away, muttering some flustered nonsense under his breath before putting his phone away.

"My turn," he said, adjusting his sitting position. "What's your comic called?"

The blood in Adam's face drained. He hadn't expected that question.

"It's called 'Here Comes Trouble', I'm hosting it on Comix," he mumbled, deciding to honor his promise. If he was lucky Assad would forget the name before he got time to look it up. Heck, maybe Assad wasn't even interested in reading it??

"No way, that's my favorite comic!" The high-pitched yell from Assad surprised Adam, but Adam became even more surprised when the man got up and went straight in the direction of his bedroom. Adam waited, wondering what he had gone to do, and when the man re-emerged holding up a notebook Adam was confused for a minute. That was until he saw the stickers on the cover.

Those were his characters. Those were his merch stickers from his store. Assad really did read his comic.

Adam wasn't sure how to feel.

"I've been talking to my favorite artist for months, what the actual fuck," Assad said, rushing to sit right next to Adam again. There was something new in the way he was looking at Adam. Boyish admiration. Adam wasn't sure if the flip in his stomach was him being uncomfortable or just embarrassed.

"You're a big inspiration to me right now. I told you I was working on a comic of my own before, right?" Assad said, trying to revive the conversation.

"Hey, say something," Assad muttered, cocking his head to the side as Adam remained frozen in place.

When you met a fan, you were supposed to be happy. You were supposed to smile and tell them 'thank you' for loving your work, but Adam just felt sick to his stomach. Maybe it was because Assad was also an artist and there was an intrinsic defense mechanism to protect his work from theft.

It was irrational paranoia. Adam knew that much. Assad wouldn't copy him.

Would he??Adam winced at this own thought, feeling terrible for being on guard and feeling suspicious.

"I hate this." The feelings he was having, that is, Adam only realized he had said that out loud when Assad's eyes had gone wide and the man seemed to be at a loss of words.

"W-what?" Assad stuttered and Adam just stared at him, muttering an apology under his breath before getting up and making a beeline for the apartment's exit. Assad didn't plan to stop him, but still, Adam jogged downstairs to his apartment, only pausing to take a breath when he had somehow managed to get back into his apartment.

He rested his back on the wall, sliding down against it as his eyes watered. Guilt rushed through him when Assad's confused face flashed behind his eyes. Adam covered his face and cursed under his breath.

His unaddressed trust issues might have cost him his only friend tonight.