The classroom smelled faintly of glue and crayons. Saturday's chaos had left behind a battlefield of glitter, paper scraps, and half-finished drawings. Elena bent over a drying rack, sliding sheets of watercolor into neat rows.
"You're nesting again," Mira said from the doorway, sipping coffee from a bright pink thermos.
Elena glanced back. "Nesting?"
"You clean when you're restless. It's either that or you paint until three in the morning. At least here, I don't have to worry about you setting the fire alarm off again."
"That was one time." Elena tried to smile.
Mira sauntered in, perching on a desk. "You've been on edge since last week. Want to talk about it?"
Elena shook her head, focusing on the papers. "Not really."
"Fine. I'll talk, you listen." Mira leaned forward conspiratorially. "Adrian Hale looks at you like you're a riddle he's both dying and terrified to solve."
Elena stilled, her throat tightening. "He looks at me like someone he doesn't trust."
"Same thing, in his language."
Before Elena could respond, a burst of laughter carried from down the hall. Adrian's voice, low and measured, followed — he was speaking to another volunteer. Just the sound made Elena's stomach knot.
Mira caught the flicker in her expression. "See? That right there. You can pretend all you want, but your pulse doesn't lie."
Elena gathered the dry sheets, her hands unsteady. "It's not that simple, Mira."
"It never is," Mira said softly. "But you've been punishing yourself for years, and I'm starting to wonder if you even remember what it feels like to breathe without guilt pressing on your lungs."
Elena looked away, swallowing hard.
Mira hopped off the desk and touched her shoulder. "I know you don't want to tell me everything. That's okay. Just… promise me you won't keep running when the past shows up."
Elena's chest constricted. If only Mira knew how close the past already stood.
---
That Night – The Flashback
Sleep came late, jagged and uneven.
Elena dreamed in fragments:
Music pounding, too loud.
The bitter taste of vodka burning her throat.
Her laughter, too high-pitched, not hers at all.
A shadow leaning close, familiar but not Adrian.
Hazel eyes gleaming, a grin too sharp.
A kiss — sudden, rough, tasting of something she didn't want but didn't stop.
She woke with a gasp, her sheets tangled around her body. Her chest heaved as though she had been running. The memory clung to her skin, sour and suffocating.
It wasn't the whole night — just flashes, shards she wished she could forget. And yet, forgetting wasn't possible.
Daniel.
Even thinking his name felt like betrayal.
---
The Next Day at the Center
Adrian arrived earlier than usual, sleeves already rolled up. He moved with quiet efficiency, setting chairs in order, stacking books.
Elena hovered near the supply cabinet, pretending to organize markers. She hadn't spoken to him since last week's sharp exchange. Part of her wanted to keep it that way.
But silence had never been their language.
"Early," she said, her voice too thin.
"Could say the same about you." He didn't look at her.
"I live two blocks away."
"I live ten."
She bristled. "And yet here you are."
He finally turned, his gaze cool. "Why does it bother you so much that I am?"
Her breath caught. "Because… because this is supposed to be my space. My work."
"Not everything is about you, Elena."
She flinched, but before she could retort, a child darted in, clutching a paint-smeared drawing, and the moment fractured.
Adrian crouched to the child's level, his tone softening instantly. Elena watched, throat tight, as he praised the artwork with patient warmth.
For a fleeting second, she saw the boy she used to know. The one who once believed in her, before everything shattered.
And for the first time in years, she felt the sharp ache of wanting that boy back.
---
Later – Mira's Needling
By the end of the day, Elena and Mira were walking home together, the early evening air crisp with autumn.
"You two barely speak, but the air between you could ignite," Mira said casually.
Elena groaned. "Please don't."
"I'm just saying. He's here every week now. That doesn't scream indifference."
"He's here because he feels guilty about something in his life. This is… a project, a distraction. That's all."
Mira tilted her head, unconvinced. "If that's what helps you sleep."
Elena opened her mouth to argue — then closed it again, because the truth was, she hadn't been sleeping at all.
Not with Daniel's face in her dreams. Not with Adrian's eyes burning through her silence.