The party was loud.Not the fun kind of loud—just enough chaos to cover everything unsaid.
Adrian had three drinks in him, one offered by a guy in a denim jacket with dimples and dim lighting. The music thumped, the air was sticky with sweat and perfume, and everyone was laughing louder than they needed to.
He should've felt in his element.
He didn't.
He wasn't sure who leaned in first. Maybe it was him. Maybe it didn't matter.
The kiss was soft. Brief. Charged. Gone too fast.
Adrian pulled back, blinking. The guy—Mark? Matt?—smiled, unbothered.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," Adrian lied, grabbing another drink he didn't need.
But he didn't stop thinking about it.
---
The next morning, his head was pounding and his heart was louder.
He found Elliot at the studio early, like always, quietly strumming a melody that never made it to paper. His guitar case was half open, coffee at his side, hoodie too big.
Safe.
"Hey," Adrian said, voice scratchy.
Elliot looked up. "Rough night?"
"You could say that." Adrian dropped onto the floor beside him, sighing deeply. "You busy?"
"Just playing around with something. What's up?"
A pause.
"I kissed a guy last night," Adrian blurted.
Elliot blinked. "Okay."
Adrian stared at the ceiling. "That's it? No surprise?"
"Not really," Elliot said, tuning one of the strings. "I figured you were… figuring things out."
Adrian laughed, but it came out broken. "I don't know what I am. I've flirted with everyone since I was, like, twelve. Guys, girls, vibes. I always thought it was just... me being me."
"And now?"
"And now I don't know if it's been me being me, or me avoiding the truth." He paused. "I don't even know what truth I'm avoiding."
Elliot didn't speak for a while. Just played. Soft notes. Not sad. Just… gentle.
"You don't have to name it right away," Elliot said. "Feelings aren't a pop quiz."
Adrian smiled faintly. "You always do that."
"Do what?"
"Say something annoyingly calm and wise like you're not a human disaster."
Elliot laughed softly. "Pot, meet kettle."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Elliot held out the second guitar—Adrian's old beat-up one that still had a cracked sticker from their first open mic night together.
"Play with me?"
Adrian took it without speaking. Let his fingers find familiar chords.
They played in harmony for a while. No lyrics. No explanations. Just music.
It wasn't perfect.But it was real.
---
After a while, Adrian whispered, "You know what I think it is?"
Elliot looked over.
"I think I'm jealous of you."
Elliot blinked. "Why?"
"Because you feel. You let yourself fall in love. You let it break you. And you still write songs about it like you haven't given up on people." Adrian strummed a quiet chord. "I don't know if I've ever let myself feel that much."
Elliot didn't answer right away. Then:
"It hurts like hell, yeah. But at least I know it was real."
Adrian looked down at the strings. "I want that. I want to be brave enough for that."
"You will be," Elliot said, voice steady. "You already are. You just don't see it yet."
---
Later, as Adrian packed up, he paused at the door.
"Thanks," he said. "For not making it weird."
"Thanks," Elliot said back, "for trusting me."
Adrian smirked. "You're still a disaster, by the way."
"I never said I wasn't."
They both smiled.
And for the first time in a long time, Adrian felt… honest.