waiting for the other shoe, and it had dropped, crushing everything in its path.
Just before four, his phone buzzed on his nightstand, and this time he didn’t jump for it. It wasn’t Nik, because it was never Nik. It was either Jay, Seth, or his sister trying to make sure he was alright. Four days felt like four eternities though, but it wasn’t enough time to let himself feel better. He showered only because public work demanded it, he ate so he didn’t pass out on his shift, and he took his testosterone injections when it was time because he wasn’t going to give up his body after one man cracked his heart in half.
With a sigh, he jumped in the shower to rinse off, then combed his hair back with a little product before grabbing his jeans off the floor. They hung low on his hips—letting him know he was losing weight, but instead of bothering to eat more, he just grabbed a belt and cinched it an extra hole. He found his headphones tucked in his nightstand, so he threw those on and pulled his playlist.
It was angry punk, men and women screaming into a mic with a terrible, echoing recording that made it almost—almost—sound like he was there. He could reach out and just barely graze that feeling of letting it all loose with Damien by his side and his voice raw in his throat as he screamed at the people in his life who had passed by with claws out, leaving deep scars.
It was never like this, though. Never so raw, so bloody, so obvious. He dragged a hand down his face, then finally checked his phone and saw his sister’s name on the screen.
Stella: Coop and Evie want you to come for dinner this weekend.
Adam: I’ll check my schedule and let you know.
It was the best he could do. He didn’t know if he had the strength to sit and watch Cooper and Stella together. He didn’t want to be the person who thunder-clouded all over their reunion, but he was just asshole enough to know he probably would. He tossed his phone down on the passenger seat, then headed off to the mall.
It was dead, like it always was on Tuesdays, and he knew it would stay that way. Normally he liked the peace and quiet, but it was worse now that all he had time to do was sit, and think, and stare at the empty piano bench across the way.
He hated that he knew what Nik was doing—or at least, what he should be doing. If everything was the same, Nik would be at home preparing for his afternoon lessons. When they were over, he’d sit in his practice room and work on his composition. Then he’d shower, then…
Then, before, he’d call Adam and try to talk him into dinner together. It worked almost all of the time. And it had been four long days since one of those calls had come through.
He swallowed against a lump in his throat and cursed the limbo he was stuck in, and the silence that surrounded him.
With a sigh, he slid behind the computer to check the appointments for the day, then lost himself in the news until there was the sound of knuckles rapping on the counter. His eyes lifted up, and he pushed his seat back involuntarily at the sight of Van staring down at him over the rim of his glasses.
“Am I interrupting something important?”
Once again, Adam wasn’t sure if the guy was being serious or sarcastic, and he breathed through his irritation. “Nothing I can’t pause. Is there something you need? You want to book with Vince?”
As if by habit, Van rubbed at his forearm, but he shook his head. “I was looking for you. I think I just missed you yesterday.”
“You…want something pierced?” Adam couldn’t help the disbelief from coloring his tone, but Van shook his head, and that at least made a little more sense.
“The funeral is tomorrow.” Van sounded hollow, lost, and he looked it as he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and shrugged.
Adam felt awful for the way his brows rose, and a scoff drifted past his lips. “So?”
Van blinked, then let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel like shit.”
At that, Adam couldn’t help his laugh. “It’s cute that you think you had anything to do with whatever’s going on.”
“He hasn’t told me. He won’t talk to me,”