Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Adam didn’t like the fire escape. It was loud, uneven, and once, someone had thrown a lit cigarette on it while he was walking by. But it was the only path he could take during lunch without being shoved, bumped into, or overheard.

He kept his eyes on the ground. One, two, three steps. Measured breathing. Focus on his footsteps.

Until he heard:

“Hey. What did you say to him?”

Adam froze.

They weren’t talking to him. It was some other boy, one of the ones who always laughed when he talked about stars or sat alone in the cafeteria with his apple juice.

But then came a sound he recognized. A punch, maybe. Then another.

When he looked up, he saw the dark leather jacket before he saw the face. The boy who had hit the bully didn’t look at Adam. He just wiped his hand on his jeans and spat on the ground.

“Stay away from him,” he growled. No theatrics. No scene. “Or I’ll break every piece of you next time.”

The bully ran. The boy—Nigel—just turned and walked away.

Adam stood there, trying to make sense of what had just happened. No one had ever… stepped in for him before.

And Nigel hadn’t even looked at him.

[…]

Adam got home at 3:47 PM.

He placed his shoes in the same corner as always, aligned with the edge of the wall. Hung up his backpack. Washed his hands twice, once out of caution, once out of habit. Then he went straight to his room.

He didn’t turn on his computer. Didn’t check his emails. Didn’t even look at the new galaxy model he was building in a 3D program. Everything was right where it had always been. Everything normal. Stable.

But today, that stability felt out of place.

Adam sat on the edge of the bed, knees together, fingers intertwined in his lap. He took a deep breath and tried to recall the exact moment Nigel appeared.

“Hey. What did you say to him?”

His voice was low, with a strange accent.

Nigel hadn’t looked at him. Hadn’t said a word to him afterward. That part mattered: he hadn’t done it expecting anything in return. Adam found that interesting. Very interesting. Someone defending him just because… they thought it was the right thing to do? That was rare.

Or impossible.

Why would he do that?

Adam stood up again. Walked to his desk and opened a notebook. Grabbed a blue pen.

On the blank page, he wrote:

Nigel. Black leather jacket, approximately 6 feet tall, dark brown hair, wide jaw. Intense eyes. Expression hard to read. Violent, but not with everyone. Only when necessary?

He crossed out the question mark. Then crossed it out again. He didn’t like uncertainty.

Didn’t speak to me. Hit Garrett. Garrett had been pushing me again. Nigel used his left hand for the first punch. Is he left-handed?

Adam brought the pen to his lips and sat back on the bed.

He thought about the way Nigel turned his back. The way he spit on the ground, like it was nothing. Like standing up for someone wasn’t worth nothing.

Adam couldn’t stop thinking about it. From the moment he saw Nigel, something had stuck. Like a sound that keeps looping.

The sound of the front door closing at 3:55 PM didn’t surprise him. He knew every step in that house, every hinge that creaked.

Will was home.

Light footsteps in the hallway. A rhythm that always seemed hesitant, as if he was afraid to bother anyone, even in his own house. Adam heard the soft knock on the door, followed by a pause.

“Hey, Adam… can I come in?”

Adam didn’t answer, but Will came in anyway. He often did that. He had this strange way of taking care of things in silence.

Will’s lab coat was crooked, and there were deep shadows under his eyes. He smelled like hospital and old coffee. He dropped his backpack on the floor and glanced around before approaching the bed.

“You okay?” he asked. His voice was soft, like he was talking to a startled deer.

Adam nodded. Quickly. Just once.

“Did you have a good day at school?”

The pen was still in Adam’s hand, but the notebook was now flipped over.

“Yes.”

Will sat slowly on the edge of the bed. Not too close, not too far. Just… within reach of the silence.

“Did you eat?”

“Yes.”

“Did anything… nice happen?”

Adam hesitated for less than a second. But Will noticed.

He always noticed.

“Adam?”

“No.”

A lie.

Nigel. The punch. That deep voice. The sudden sense of safety. That strange warmth in his chest.

But Adam couldn’t tell him. He didn’t want Will to know. If Will found out he was getting bullied at school… he’d want to talk to someone. The teachers. He’d start asking questions. He’d worry. And Adam hated when Will worried, because it meant he stopped sleeping. And when Will didn’t sleep, he got even sadder.

“I’m just tired,” Adam said, trying to make it sound real.

Will took a slow breath. He didn’t push.

“Right. If you want to talk later… I’m here, okay?”

Adam nodded again. Not because he wanted to talk. But because he knew Will needed to hear it.

Will gently brushed Adam’s hair back and stood up.

“I’m making mac and cheese. White cheese, no rind. Just how you like it.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Will smiled and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Adam stared at the door for a few seconds. Then he flipped the notebook back over and, below the notes about Nigel, he wrote in small letters:

Don’t tell Will. He’ll worry. And Nigel protected me. So it’s fine. Right?

He crossed out the “right?” Then crossed it out again.

And when he closed his eyes that night, Nigel was still there, standing in his memory, with the leather jacket, the deep voice, and his left hand stained with blood that wasn’t his.

[…]

Adam left History class at 1:17 PM.

He knew exactly how long it took Nigel to come down the stairs from Block B after P.E.: 38 seconds. He’d counted the day before, without looking directly, of course. Just by listening to the heavy, rhythmic footsteps that stood out from the rest of the school.

Nigel always kicked the locker room door on his way out. That’s how Adam knew it was safe to go.

Today, he turned the hallway corner at the exact moment he heard the metallic thud of the door. A deep sound, like a drumbeat that echoed through his bones. Familiar.

Nigel was walking with his hands in his pockets. Black jacket, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He didn’t wear the uniform like the others, or he did, but it was folded, messy, his. The world always seemed to give him space wherever he walked.

Adam kept six meters behind. No more, no less. He knew that was the safe distance. He’d tested it.

He didn’t look directly. He watched the floor, the lockers, the ripped posters on the walls. But he saw Nigel in the reflections, in the windows, in the hallway mirrors. A dark, shifting figure, but constant.

Nigel doesn’t look at anyone in the halls.
He drags his left foot a little when he’s tired.
Is he angry today? Or just walking faster?

Adam took notes with his eyes. With his fingers, mentally. Like he was decoding a pattern, charting a star map.

Nigel turned into the courtyard. He was heading toward the side area of the school, where the older kids usually smoked, or fought, or both. It was a place Adam usually avoided. But today, he followed.

He stopped behind a pillar, heart racing, not from fear, but something more confusing. Something like… anticipation. Nigel had his back to him, digging into his pocket. Maybe a lighter. Maybe a cigarette.

The early afternoon sun made the sweat on his neck shine, where his hair clung to his skin. Adam watched the movement of his shoulder, the way he leaned slightly to light the cigarette, tense, controlled gestures, like the entire world was constantly on the verge of pissing him off.

He doesn’t like crowded places. Always walks along the edges, never through the center of the courtyard.
He never smokes the whole cigarette. Throws it out halfway.
He doesn’t talk to anyone during break. No one comes near him.

Adam crouched behind the pillar. Not because he was afraid of being seen, but because it made the observation more precise. People walked by in loud, laughing groups. But no one looked at Nigel. And no one looked at Adam.

That was comfortable. Invisibility. Safety.

Nigel took a long drag, staring at the ground. Then lifted his eyes toward some distant point. There was no expression on his face, but there was no calm either. It was like something was trapped beneath the skin. Something ready to break.

Adam recognized that kind of silence. It was like his, but rougher. Dirtier. Like a locked room full of muffled noise.

He noticed Nigel’s right hand was bandaged. A crude dressing, poorly done, wrapped in what looked like a torn T-shirt.

Did he hurt it hitting Garrett?
Or before?
Or after?

Adam wanted to ask. But asking meant speaking. And speaking meant… being seen.

So he just stayed there. Quiet. Watching.

It was all recorded. The way Nigel kept his shoulders tense. The way he let the cigarette butt fall to the ground without stepping on it. The sharp sound of his boot sole as he walked back toward the side hallway. And the exact moment he vanished from view, leaving only the smell of smoke in the air.

Adam waited one more minute. Then stood up slowly. His knees were numb, but his head was clear. A different kind of clarity. The kind he only felt when solving long equations or building a model.

When he went back inside the building, he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and wrote:

He didn’t see.
But I saw everything.
And now I understand a little more.

He folded the paper between his fingers like a secret and headed to his next class.

Without speaking to anyone.

[…]

Will got home from work with the same tiredness as always, but something in the air felt… different.

Adam wasn’t in the kitchen like usual. There was no smell of frozen food in the microwave. No sound of typing from his room. Silence. Drawn out. A little tense.

Will walked slowly down the hallway. Knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for a reply.

Adam was sitting on the floor of his room, surrounded by folded papers, all identical. Small. White. Notes. A lot of them.

“Hey,” Will said softly. “What are you doing down there?”

Adam looked up. He didn’t seem embarrassed. Or surprised. Just… caught.

“I’m organizing my thoughts.”

“And they have to be on the floor?”

“Yes.”

Will didn’t push. He just stepped inside and crouched down, taking in the scattered papers. He didn’t read any, Adam hated when people touched his things. But he noticed the pattern. All written in the same exact handwriting. Some with single sentences. Others with lists. A few with someone’s name.

One name that repeated.

Nigel.

Will pretended not to notice. But he felt his stomach tighten.

“This… Nigel. Is he a new friend?”

Adam hesitated. But answered:

“No.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“No.”

“But you think about him a lot?”

Adam stayed quiet. Eyes down. Hands on his knees.

Will sat next to him on the floor. He didn’t touch him.

“You seem different, Adam.”

“I’m not different.”

“Yes, you are.”

Another silence. Heavier this time.

“Did he treat you badly?” Will asked carefully. “This Nigel?”

“No.”

“Then… why is he on all these papers?”

Adam took longer to respond. His breathing was low, but uneven.

“He did something good. And now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Will pressed his lips together. His heart beating faster.

“What good thing?”

Adam swallowed hard.

“He protected me. At school.”

Will felt the ground shift a little beneath him.

“From what?”

Adam lowered his head even more. The back of his neck turned red.

“From Garrett.”

Will closed his eyes. Counted to five.

“Adam… are you being bullied?”

“Not every day.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

Adam stayed silent. Like a kid caught doing something wrong.

Will ran a hand over his face, trying to breathe.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you already have too much on your mind. Because I can handle it. Because… now there’s Nigel.”

Will looked at him.

“You think he’ll always protect you?”

Adam shrugged.

“I don’t know. But he saw. And he did something. No one ever does anything.”

Will leaned his head against the wall.

He didn’t know if he was angrier at the school, the students, or himself, for not noticing anything sooner. For always being the last one to realize when Adam was in pain.

“Do you want me to talk to someone?”

“No.”

“Want me to go to the school?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want, Adam?”

Adam looked at him with an unreadable expression. Tired. But steady.

“I just want to keep watching him.”

Will swallowed hard.

He didn’t know what that meant. Whether it was a crush, a fixation, or a reflection of some unhealed wound. But he knew that, in his brother’s mind, it made sense.

And that was what hurt the most.

[…]

Adam didn’t go straight home. There were still two more classes, but he hid in the library.

Between shelves of social science books and a flickering desk lamp, he chose a table in the far corner, as far from the entrance as possible. His backpack rested against his chest like a shield. His fingers were still closed around the folded paper.

He didn’t write.

He was afraid the words would come out wrong. Or that they’d come out too much.

In his head, Nigel was still there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, wearing that annoyed, scornful look. But also… curious. Or maybe confused. Adam wasn’t good at reading expressions, but he remembered everything. Like an echo.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out another piece of paper, smaller. A post-it, folded in half. He grabbed a pen and scribbled without thinking:

NIGEL TODAY:
• makeshift bandage
• face sweaty, maybe feverish?
• irritated? tired? or just mad at me?
• talked to me. directly.

He paused. Then added:

• looked at me for 6 seconds without saying anything
• didn’t hit me
• told me to stop (I did)
• maybe he’s upset now

The library sounded louder than usual. The voices of other students came through as distant noise. Adam lowered his head onto the papers, face hidden in his arms. He didn’t want to think. But he didn’t want to forget either.

And it was in that moment—half hidden, half absent—that he saw Nigel again.

He walked into the library, same black jacket, and didn’t even glance at Adam. He looked like he was searching for some book. Maybe he wasn’t paying attention. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe…

Adam stood up. He didn’t know why.

He didn’t go to him. Just watched from between the shelves. Nigel had pulled a book about wars—or maybe weapons?—and was fiddling with his fingers like something was bothering him. The bandage really was poorly done.

Adam wanted to help. But stayed still.

He just wanted to look a little longer. Just that. Just a little longer.

And then, when Nigel turned again, Adam ducked too fast. Hid behind the shelf of dictionaries. Stayed there, heart pounding in his ears, hoping he hadn’t been seen.

If I don’t move, he won’t notice.

But Nigel stopped walking.

And then, for the second time that day, his voice broke the silence between them:

“You’re starting to get weird, you know that?”

Adam squeezed his eyes shut. Didn’t answer.

“You suck at hide-and-seek.”

Silence.

Adam stood up slowly. A little red, a little lost.

“I wasn’t hiding.”

“You were.”

“I just wanted to see how your bandage was.”

“And you think the library’s a good infirmary?”

Adam lowered his gaze.

“You got hurt defending someone like me. I just wanted… I don’t know… to keep track of the healing.”

Nigel closed the book in his hands. The sound was sharp, abrupt.

“You’re weird.”

“I know.”

For a second, they just stood there. One among history books, the other among unspoken excuses. Until Nigel did something Adam didn’t expect:

He extended his arm. Showed the hand with the crooked bandage.

“If you’re gonna look, then look. Before I change my mind.”

Adam froze. But stepped closer.

Carefully, hesitantly, he touched Nigel’s fingers, adjusting the bandage. His hands were shaking. Nigel didn’t pull away.

Nigel’s skin was warm. Adam noticed it the moment his fingers touched the edge of the bandage.

It felt like touching something he shouldn’t. Like turning on a light in a dark room and realizing there were eyes staring back at you.

But Nigel didn’t move. He just stood there, watching Adam like he wasn’t used to this kind of touch. Like he was waiting for him to mess up.

Adam had no idea what he was doing.

He tried to pretend it was just… that. A crooked bandage, a wound, a simple gesture. But his fingers were cold. The bandage was stuck clumsily, too tight on one side. He pulled gently, trying to fix it without hurting.

“Sorry,” he murmured when Nigel flinched slightly.

“Just do it.”

Adam nodded but didn’t meet his eyes.

He kept his focus on the hand. The wound. The tiny hairs on his arm. The barely-there scent of sweat and nicotine. The strange feeling of being part of something.

“That was… stupid,” Nigel said suddenly.

Adam froze.

“What?”

“Hitting them. Not that I regret it, but… It was dumb.”

Adam wanted to ask why, but stayed quiet. Waiting.

“Because now you’re following me, like… like I’m some kind of hero,” Nigel went on, dryly. “I’m not that. I just… got pissed off. That’s all. You get it?”

Adam nodded. Then spoke, softly:

“I don’t think you’re a hero.”

Nigel looked at him.

“But I think you were the only person who looked at me and… saw me.”

A heavy silence settled between them.

Nigel pulled his hand back slowly, unhurried, but firm. The touch was broken. Like it had lingered too long.

“You talk like you’ve written a speech,” he said. “Do you rehearse this stuff in your head first?”

Adam blushed. Looked away.

“I think a lot.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Nigel gave a half-smile, just one corner of his mouth. Almost cynical. But not cruel.

He started turning away.

“Stop following me, okay? Just… live your life.”

Adam didn’t answer. He just stood there, eyes fixed on the direction Nigel walked away. His heart still pounding too loud, like his body had witnessed something his mind didn’t yet know how to name.

He let me touch him.

He let me help.

He didn’t push me away.

And that, for Adam, was enough for today.

Chapter Text

Adam had spent the whole morning without looking at Nigel.

It was hard. His body felt trained to search for him in the hallways, quietly scanning between backpacks and voices, but he held back the impulse. Like Nigel was a live wire, staring too long hurt. Thinking too much made it feel like he mattered. And Adam was certain he didn’t.

So he forced himself into silence.

To keep his eyes down. To focus on his own feet. To shrink again.

Like before.

He sat in the cafeteria earlier than the rest of the class, choosing a corner table no one ever passed by. He placed his lunch on the tray with methodical gestures: water bottle to the left, crustless sandwich in the center, pack of cookies he wouldn’t eat. All symmetrical.

All under control.

Except it wasn’t.

The footsteps came from the side. Three pairs. Heavy.

And he knew before he even looked.

“Hey, freak. Where’s your boyfriend?”

The voice dripped with sarcasm. One of the boys—the tallest—was already dragging out the chair next to him with unnecessary force. Another slapped the cookie pack lightly.

Adam froze.

“You know what’s funny?” said the first, voice way too casual. “You follow Nigel around like a little puppy. But today… today you decided to walk alone.”

“I…” Adam tried to speak, but choked on the words. The sound came out all wrong.

“What?”

“I… I’m not… anything to him.”

“Oh, really?” the other boy leaned over the table, his face way too close. “So he hit us out of charity? How sweet. A Christmas miracle.”

Laughter. Cold. Poisonous.

Then a shove hit his shoulder. Adam almost fell out of the chair.

“Relax,” said the tallest. “We just wanna talk. Ask a few questions. Like… who do you think you are?”

Adam didn’t answer.

His mind was already slipping away.

Sounds began to distort. The ceiling light felt too bright. Everything around him moved too fast, and he moved too slow.

“He’s catatonic now?” one of them laughed.

“He’s gonna cry,” said another, more excited.

“Hey, answer me! You mute or what?” The first boy shoved the tray, sending it crashing to the floor. The noise was too loud. Adam flinched, fingers at his temples.

“Please…” he murmured, eyes shut tight. “Stop…”

But they didn’t.

Until, suddenly… they did.

A shadow fell over the table.

Silence.

Adam opened his eyes slowly.

Nigel was there.

Again.

He looked at the closest boy and, in one sharp motion, grabbed the collar of his shirt and shoved him back, hard enough to knock him to the floor.

“Are you stupid or deaf?” Nigel’s voice was low. Dangerous. “I told you not to touch him again.”

The boy tried to get up, humiliated, anger held back by fear.

“Dude, what’s your problem—” he started, but Nigel took half a step forward.

“The next one who lays a hand on him leaves in an ambulance. That simple.”

The other two froze. Tension hung in the air like a pulled wire.

Then Nigel looked at Adam. For the first time that day.

“Come.”

Adam hesitated. His feet didn’t move.

Nigel turned and walked away, like he knew Adam would follow.

And he did.

Not because he wanted to. But because he had to.

Because his chest still trembled, and the world still felt too fast.

Adam followed Nigel down the hallway, but something was wrong.

The floor felt uneven. The lights were humming, or maybe they always had, and he was just now noticing.

There was a metallic taste in his mouth.
And the voices of the students around him sounded like underwater echoes.

He tried to walk faster. But he tripped over his own step.

Nigel didn’t even look back.

They exited through the side door of the building, sunlight flooding in unfiltered. Adam blinked several times, but the brightness felt sharp.

A bus turned the corner, honking, and the sound cut through his body like a knife.

His chest began to ache. Like there wasn’t enough space inside it. Like he was trapped within himself.

Nigel sat down on a bench beside the gym, resting his elbows on his knees. Only then did he notice that Adam was still standing, a few feet behind.

“What now?” he asked, impatient. “Did they hit you?”

Adam didn’t answer.

His arms were crossed over his chest, but not from cold. He was holding something in, maybe a scream. A sound without a name.

His eyes started to water, and he didn’t even know why.

He tried to take a deep breath.

Again. Again.

But the air didn’t feel like enough.

“Adam?” Nigel’s voice changed. A sharper tone, alert. “What the fuck…”

Adam dropped to his knees.

He covered his ears.

The whole world was too fast, too loud, too wrong.

The zipper on his backpack tapped the ground with a repetitive, irritating sound. The sky felt like it was falling. His heart pounded like it wanted to escape his chest.

Nigel stood up immediately.

“Hey, hey…” he said, unsure what to do. “What’s happening?”

He knelt down beside him, but didn’t touch him.

“Are you… are you having a panic attack? Should I get someone?”

Adam shook his head, frantic.

“No… d-don’t touch me… please…”

The words came out broken, raw. But honest.

Nigel pulled back slightly. Stayed still for a few seconds, watching.

Then he took off his school jacket—a dark hoodie—and folded it quickly.

He held it out, slowly.

“Here. Use this to cover your face, if you want. Or your eyes. Do whatever you need. I’ll stay right here. Just… here, okay?”

Adam didn’t answer.

But he took the hoodie with trembling fingers.

Covered his eyes. His face. The world.

And stayed like that, breathing deeply. Feeling the soft fabric against his skin. The familiar smell of Nigel: sweat, cigarettes, cheap shampoo.

He stayed there until the noise faded. Until the light became bearable. Until his body remembered how to calm down.

When he finally lowered the hoodie… Nigel was still there.

Sitting on the ground beside him, nudging a pebble with his foot. Like it was normal. Like he was used to waiting.

Adam blinked slowly.

“It was just… too much,” he murmured. “Sometimes I get like that.”

Nigel nodded. He looked at him, but without pity. Without disgust. Just presence.

“Next time, give me a signal first, okay?”

“A signal?”

“I don’t know. A whispered ‘help,’ a note. Slap me in the head. Anything.”

Adam let out something close to a laugh. Weak. But real.

“You stayed.”

“Well, yeah. I thought I was supposed to protect my personal stalker, right?”

Adam clutched the hoodie to his chest.

The silence between them was strange. Not bad. Just silent. As if Nigel was waiting for Adam to come back fully.

The hoodie was still in Adam’s hands, a little crumpled now, the warmth of the fabric mixing with his own.

Nigel pulled a cigarette from his pocket—maybe out of habit—but didn’t light it.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked after a while.

Adam shook his head slowly.

“No…”

“Alright,” Nigel replied, no drama in his voice. And he went back to staring at the ground, like it was no big deal. Like sitting there with him, after all that, was just… a regular Tuesday.

Adam watched the way Nigel’s fingers spun the lighter without igniting it. It was a tic.

He had noticed it before, but now it felt clearer.
Maybe Nigel had his own little breakdowns, just hidden under cursing and silence.

“I don’t really know how to explain it,” Adam said finally. “It’s like my body just shuts down because of… everything. The light. The noise. The people. Breathing gets hard.”

Nigel nodded. No jokes this time.

“I didn’t know.”

“Nobody does.”

Silence again.

Adam pulled his knees up to his chest.
He was still trembling a little.

“Sometimes when it gets like that… I forget how to talk. I even forget there are other people around. I just want to disappear.”

Nigel let out a breath through his nose. Half impatient, half trying to understand.

“You don’t have to say, like… all that. You don’t have to explain it to me.”

Adam looked up at him.

“No?”

“No. You just… had a moment. Fuck it. Everyone does. I just stayed. Because I wanted to. Because I thought I should.”

Adam frowned slightly, trying to make sense of it.

“But why?”

Nigel looked at him. Really looked.

“Because you didn’t do anything to deserve going through that alone.”

The sentence landed between them with the weight of something too big to hand back.

Adam looked down at the hoodie in his hands. Then at Nigel.

He almost said “thank you,” but felt like saying it would ruin everything. So he just nodded, once.

Nigel stood up, dusted off his pants, and held out a hand to pull Adam up. He didn’t force the touch. Just offered it.

Adam hesitated.

But he took it.

His hand was firm and dry, the palm calloused.

Once they were standing side by side, Nigel grabbed the cigarette again, this time placing it between his lips. Still unlit.

“You followed me here just to see where I go after class?”

Adam looked away, blushing.

“Maybe.”

Nigel laughed, low.

“You’re such a fucking weirdo.”

Adam muttered, “I know.”

“But, I don’t know. A useful weirdo. People have followed me before. None of them carried band-aids.”

The silence returned, but now it felt comfortable. Nigel looked at the sky, then around them.

“Wanna head out? Before someone thinks we’re making out behind the gym or some shit.”

Adam almost laughed. But just shook his head.

“Yeah.”

They started walking, side by side.

And even though the world was still too loud, too fast, Adam realized there was one thing that calmed him.

Nigel.

Nigel!

Walking slowly. Not forcing conversation.

Giving him space, but staying close.

And that, for Adam, said more than any words ever could.

They walked along the side of the school, where the steps were covered in dry leaves and the sun barely touched the concrete anymore.

Adam still held the hoodie in his hands, like he didn’t know what to do with it. He could smell Nigel on the fabric, but he couldn’t decide if that was good or weird. Or both at once.

Nigel took a drag from his unlit cigarette.

“Do you carry that notebook around all the time?” he asked, not looking directly at him.

Adam nodded.

“Yeah. It helps… organize things.”

“Things?”

“Thoughts. What people say. What I feel. I write it down so I don’t forget.”

“That’s kind of… intense, isn’t it?”

Adam paused to think.

“Maybe. But if I don’t write, it feels like everything slips away.”

“Hm.”

Nigel didn’t mock him. Which, coming from him, was practically a compliment.

“Did you write about me?” he asked after a few more steps.

Adam hesitated. Then, with all the honesty in the world:

“Yes.”

Nigel let out a short laugh, half through his nose.

“Bet it wasn’t pretty.”

“It was confusing,” Adam replied. “But… interesting.”

“Interesting,” Nigel repeated, chuckling softly. “Big deal.”

They kept walking. The sound of their shoes on the ground was the only thing filling the air between them.

“This place reeks,” Nigel said suddenly. His tone was casual, but his voice was lower than usual. “I stay here because no one bothers me. No one comes looking.”

Adam glanced at him silently.

“The whole school thinks I’m a problem,” Nigel went on, kicking a little rock on the path. “And maybe I am. My dad used to say that. My mom doesn’t say much. Never did.” He laughed, without humor. “She only shows up to say I’m ruining everything.”

Adam kept his eyes on him, absorbing every word like torn-out pages from a book he’d never found in the library.

“But I’m not just that, you know?” Nigel murmured. “I just… never learned to be anything else. And now it’s too late.”

The silence between them grew heavier for a moment, almost respectful.

Then, like he realized he’d said too much, Nigel clicked his tongue and scoffed:

“Forget it. I’m talking shit.”

Adam didn’t answer right away.

After a few steps, he said softly:

“I won’t forget.”

Nigel looked at him, the cigarette still hanging loosely between his fingers.

“You’re seriously fucking weird.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“And I’ll say it again if you keep looking at me like you’re about to cry over my dumb ass,” he shot back, turning his face away, half irritated, half embarrassed.

Adam smiled. A little. Just the corner of his mouth.

Nigel noticed, but didn’t say anything.

He wanted to say he was going to remember this. That he wanted to write it down as soon as he got home. But he also didn’t want Nigel to think he was just there to catalog everything. So he stayed quiet.

And Nigel, maybe by instinct, felt the tension. The cigarette still dangling from his lips, unlit.

“I’m not a nice guy, Adam. And I don’t want you thinking I am.”

“I never did.”

That seemed to draw a crooked smile from Nigel, who looked at him with a mix of surprise and… a little bit of relief.

“Good,” he muttered. “Then you won’t be disappointed when I tell you to fuck off.”

Adam blinked, then smiled.

“I won’t.”

A few more steps, and the side gate of the school appeared in the distance.

The street was empty. The sky had turned a faded blue, with the first stars shyly appearing. Adam felt a strange knot in his stomach, not exactly nerves, but the feeling that soon Nigel would leave. And once he did, the world would go back to being loud and hard to understand.

But for now, he was still there.

And Adam was starting to learn that, with Nigel, silence wasn’t absence. It was presence without pressure. And that was enough.

“Are you going to be mad at me again tomorrow?” Adam asked, almost unintentionally.

Nigel raised an eyebrow.

“Why? You gonna follow me again?”

Adam hesitated. Then answered simply:

“Yes.”

Nigel bit the corner of his mouth, laughing.

“Alright. Then tomorrow I’ll just pretend I didn’t see you.”

Adam looked down, smiling without showing his teeth.

And when they reached the gate, Nigel stopped, thought for a second, and said already turning his back:

“Take care of that thing. Your head. The noise. I dunno. You get it.”

Adam nodded. He tucked the hoodie into his backpack, like he was storing a secret.

And even after Nigel had turned the corner, Adam was still standing there. Quiet.

[…]

The apartment still smelled like old coffee and stacked books when Adam walked in.

He closed the door carefully, as he always did, and took off his sneakers in the hallway. But unlike most days, he didn’t head straight to his room.

Will was sitting on the living room couch, shirt slightly wrinkled, glasses slipping a little down his nose. He had an open book in his lap, but his eyes were lost in the silence of the house.

He looked at his brother over the rim of his lenses.

“You’re… smiling?”

Adam froze halfway down the hallway. The hoodie was neatly folded in his arms, and he was holding it like it was a gift.

“Am I?”

Will closed the book with his fingers marking the page, suspicious but not sarcastic.

“You are. Like, for real. Not because the neighbor gave you a mint or because you saw a raccoon video on YouTube.”

Adam didn’t answer right away. It seemed like part of the smile was slipping away, not because he was sad, but more like he was trying to hide something good. As if hiding it felt safer.

“It was a normal day,” he said, trying to sound casual, and went straight into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Will watched him for a few seconds, then stood up and followed.

“Do you want to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever made you smile like that.”

Adam shrugged, leaning against the counter. The glass was still in his hand, but the water had already been forgotten.

“Someone helped me today. That’s all.”

Will frowned slightly. Something about that lit a spark.

“Helped how?”

Adam took his time to respond. He turned the glass slowly in his hands, staring into the empty bottom like it might hold some definitive answer.

“A boy. Nigel.”

Will leaned against the counter beside him.

“The famous Nigel, huh?”

“He’s… kind of different.”

Will raised an eyebrow.

“More different than you?”

Adam let out a soft snort.

“Yeah. In his own way.”

“And is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Will stayed quiet for a moment. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, it never was. But Adam knew his brother was paying attention. The kind of attention that listens even to what isn’t said.

“Was he nice to you?” Will finally asked.

Adam hesitated. Then, honestly:

“He was honest.”

Will let out a light sigh, like he didn’t quite know what to think yet, but he’d let it slide for now.

“Okay. But if he’s ever an asshole to you, I want to know.”

Adam nodded slowly.

“Okay.”

“And, Adam…” Will added, his voice a bit softer. “If something’s going on at school… you can tell me, okay? Even if I seem busy or distant. I’m here.”

Adam gripped the glass a little tighter.

“I know.”

But he didn’t say anything else.

Will respected that. He tapped Adam lightly on the shoulder with his knuckles and headed back to the living room, saying he was going to heat something up for dinner.

Adam stayed there for a while longer, quiet. Then he went to his room and pulled a notebook from his backpack. He opened to a blank page.

At the top, he wrote only:

“Today, he talked about himself.”

And stared at the words for a long time before continuing.

[…]

Adam woke up before the alarm, the room still drowned in the bluish shadows of morning. His body felt strange, like he hadn’t slept right, but his mind, oddly, was quiet.

Not silent. But at peace.

Nigel’s hoodie was still folded beside the bed. Adam ran his fingers across the fabric, as if that might help him remember the exact tone of yesterday’s voice.

He got up slowly, dressed as usual, and slipped his notebook into his backpack with a kind of ceremonial care. The hoodie, however, he folded again… and took it with him.

At breakfast, Will was at the counter, scrolling through his phone with a mug in hand.

“Morning, poet,” he said when he noticed Adam. “Sleep okay?”

Adam nodded, grabbing a slice of bread.

“Gonna see Nigel today?” Will asked, trying not to sound too curious.

Adam hesitated. Then, quietly, replied:

“Maybe he won’t want to see anyone today. But I’ll stay close… just in case he does.”

Will noticed the hoodie being pulled out of the backpack. His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he simply said:

“Don’t push anything. Not him. Not yourself.”

Adam looked at him for a few seconds. Then nodded, with a small, genuine smile.

At school, the hallway was louder than usual. A group of seniors had music playing on someone’s phone, and a student was arguing with a teacher about group work.

Adam passed through it all like he was walking inside an invisible tunnel.

He knew where to find Nigel.

Behind the school, near the stairwell where dry leaves never seemed to get swept away, the air was colder. It was the kind of place where silence fit better inside their bodies.

Nigel was there.

Sitting on the handrail, cigarette between his lips—lit now—and eyes low, like the world was hurting a little more than it did yesterday.

Adam approached quietly. But Nigel noticed.

Without turning his head, he said:

“You came.”

“I said I would.”

Nigel scoffed, not sarcastically.

“I figured it was just talk. Thought you’d think twice and change your mind.”

Adam pulled the hoodie from his backpack and held it out to him.

“Here. I washed it last night.”

Nigel looked at the fabric in his hands, then up at Adam’s face. Finally, he took the hoodie, slowly.

“Thanks,” he murmured, in a tone that didn’t quite know what to do with gratitude.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The cigarette burned slow. The wind rustled the leaves.

Then Adam said:

“I wrote about yesterday.”

Nigel raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“Bet it came out cheesy.”

“It didn’t.”

Nigel exhaled smoke slowly.

“And today? You gonna write about today too?”

Adam shrugged.

“Only if you say something important.”

Nigel let out a short laugh from the corner of his mouth.

“I woke up in a shitty mood. That count?”

“It counts.”

More silence. More presence.

Adam looked at him for a moment and said, almost unintentionally:

“When you talk to me like this, it feels like the rest of the school disappears.”

Nigel blinked slowly, like the words had struck a part of him he didn’t know existed.

“Careful,” he replied, turning his face. “You’re starting to like me.”

“Maybe. But I still don’t think you’re nice.”

Nigel let out a short, muffled laugh.

“Smart little fucker, huh.”

This time, Adam smiled with his eyes. He stood there beside him, not asking for anything more, not saying what he felt. He knew that, with Nigel, time needed to move slowly.

And Nigel, even if he wouldn’t admit it, liked when Adam didn’t leave.

Nigel finished his cigarette and crushed the end against the wall with too much force, like the whole world was in it and he needed to shut it up all at once.

“You shouldn’t come here every day,” he muttered, not looking at Adam. “You’re gonna end up fucked because of me.”

Adam stayed quiet. He didn’t seem offended, just absorbing. Like he was taking notes on the inside.

Nigel glanced sideways at him.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I came anyway.”

Nigel let out a sharp sigh and shook his head. There was something between irritation and an old kind of tiredness in his eyes.

“Why do you follow me? Seriously. Don’t give me that shitty gratitude thing.”

Adam hesitated. He looked down at his shoelaces, then slowly raised his eyes.

“Because I like how you don’t pretend.”

Nigel frowned, like he’d just heard something in another language.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Everyone pretends. The teachers, the guys in class… even my brother, sometimes. You don’t. You’re an asshole, but you’re real.”

Nigel stared at him for a while.

“What kind of fucked up compliment is that?”

“An honest one.”

“Sounds like crazy talk.”

Adam gave a half-smile.

The silence fell again, uncomfortable, but only for one of them. Nigel scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, nervous.

“I’m not a good person, Adam. I’m not someone you should be around. I fuck things up. A lot. Got it?”

Adam nodded, slowly.

“I know.”

Nigel looked at him again. His voice dropped a little, just for a second:

“I’ve hurt people I cared about. Without meaning to. Just by being… me.”

But he quickly corrected himself, like he’d let too much slip:

“You know what? Fuck it. Forget it. I didn’t say anything, alright?”

Adam kept looking at him, calm.

“You said it. And I heard you.”

Nigel turned his face away, clenching his fists.

“Fuck off, man.”

But he wasn’t angry. Not really. Just scared. And Adam knew that.

He stayed there beside him, in silence, like he was saying: it doesn’t matter if you push me away, I’ll come back again tomorrow.

And Nigel… didn’t tell him to leave.

[…]

It was break time, and the courtyard was louder than usual.

Adam sat alone, as always, with his pencil case arranged meticulously in front of him, notebook on his lap, scribbling something with excessive focus. The world seemed to spin on a different frequency, and once again, he floated on the edges of it.

But this time, Nigel showed up.

He leaned against the bench, hoodie pushed back, a somewhat guarded look on his face, like he regretted coming the second he got there.

“You’re gonna ignore me now?” he asked, sounding a bit sulky.

Adam looked up, surprised. He didn’t seem to have noticed Nigel was nearby.

“I’m not ignoring you. I was drawing.”

“Hm.”

Nigel sat down next to him, legs spread, kicking a crumpled piece of paper on the ground.

Adam stayed silent for a few seconds, then quietly pushed the notebook toward him. The page showed a simple drawing, but full of tiny details: it was Nigel, leaning against a wall with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, his eyes tired and fierce. Even the folds of his hoodie and the way his shoelaces stayed untied were there.

Nigel stared at the drawing for too long.

“What the fuck is this?”

“You.”

“I know it’s me. But… why’d you draw it?”

“Because I wanted to remember what you look like when you’re quiet.”

Nigel turned red immediately. Not in a cute way, in a way that looked like he was about to explode.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Nothing. I just… like how you look when no one’s watching. Your face gets less tense.”

“Tense my ass,” he muttered, yanking his hoodie back over his head like it could hide the ear that was turning pink. “You’re a fucking weirdo, you know that?”

Adam shrugged.

“But you’re here with me. Again.”

Nigel clenched his jaw.

“I really should stay away from you. Every time I talk to you, you make me sound like a… like a…”

“Human?”

Nigel turned his head so fast he almost knocked Adam’s pencil case off the bench.

“Shut the hell up, Adam.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

Nigel pushed the notebook back to him.

“Put that away. Before someone sees it and thinks I let you draw my dumb face.”

Adam tucked it away.

And smiled, almost invisibly.

Nigel didn’t say anything else. But he didn’t leave either.

He stayed there, hoodie pulled low over his face, shoulders stiff, and that same red ear still showing.

The bench was still shared between the two of them, though not equally.

Nigel took up space with his whole body, like he was trying to keep the world away with his knees, his shoulders, his crooked glare.

Adam, as always, folded himself into a corner that was his alone.

The drawing had already been tucked back into the notebook, but its effect still lingered in the air.

Nigel wasn’t looking at Adam. Or the notebook. Or anything.

“You draw other people too?” he asked suddenly, voice low and poorly disguised.

“No,” Adam answered, after thinking for a second. “Just you.”

Nigel scoffed like it was the worst possible answer.

“You do this on purpose, don’t you?”

“Do what?”

“Saying that weird shit that makes me sound like… I don’t know. Some lovesick idiot.”

Adam frowned, genuinely confused.

“I was just telling the truth.”

“Even worse.” Nigel kicked another leaf on the ground, irritated. “You think you can look at people with that creepy stare and say you like it when they’re ‘quiet,’ or that their face looks ‘less tense,’ and it’s fine? That’s fucked up.”

Adam thought for a second. Then replied calmly:

“But you looked at me too. When I was on the stairs, remember? You stayed.”

Nigel muttered something that sounded like “fuck” and ran a hand down his face roughly.

“It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” He stopped, eyes shifting away, jaw clenching like he was mad at himself. “Because I’m the asshole at school. I don’t feel shit. I just exist. Got it?”

Adam looked at him for a second too long.

“Okay.”

Nigel turned his face sharply.

“Don’t give me that ‘okay’ shit.”

“But you still came.”

“Shut up.”

“And stayed.”

Nigel clenched his fists.

“You piss me off, you know that?”

“I know.”

Silence.

Longer this time.

The voices of other students in the background. Laughter. Balls hitting pavement. Wind rustling through the trees.

And through it all, Nigel, finally taking a deep breath. His face still red. But quiet.

“Just promise you won’t show that to anyone,” he said, almost a whisper.

“The drawing?”

Nigel nodded, without looking.

“It’s safe. Just with me.”

Nigel shook his head, like he hated having to trust. But he trusted anyway.

They stayed there a while longer, side by side.

No more questions. No easy answers.

Nigel pulled a cigarette from his pocket, like always. Placed it between his lips.

“You know I’m not the kind of person that’s good for anyone, right?”

Adam watched the way he bit the filter, like it was holding something deeper, uglier back.

“I like you anyway,” Adam said, without hesitation.

Nigel choked on his own cigarette.

“You little shit!” he snapped, standing up fast and shoving his hands into his pockets like he might punch something. “I’m leaving before I actually hit you for saying crap like that.”

Adam didn’t seem offended. Just muttered:

“Okay.”

Nigel took two steps, stopped, came halfway back and pointed a finger at him:

“And if anyone finds out I blushed, I swear I’ll throw you in the fucking dumpster, freak.”

“I won’t tell. Promise.”

“Fuck off.”

Nigel turned his back and walked away, faster than usual. Like he was running from himself.

Adam watched until he disappeared around the corner. Then opened his notebook again and doodled a small sketch in the corner of the page:

Nigel, walking away. Hood down, and invisible smoke curling from a cigarette not yet lit.

One weirdo protecting another.

In their own way.

[…]

It was Saturday afternoon, and the sky was clear, an almost artificial shade of blue, like the world outside had forgotten, just for a few hours, how heavy it could be.

Will had managed to get two tickets to the city’s amusement park. It wasn’t big. It wasn’t famous. But it had blinking lights, the smell of cotton candy, and the distant sound of metal creaking on roller coasters.

Adam walked close beside his brother, big headphones firmly covering his ears. Even so, his eyes wandered around with a hint of wonder, like the place was a separate planet, where social codes were suspended and he didn’t have to understand every rule.

Will watched him with quiet affection. He always stayed one step behind, ready for any sign of sensory overload. But Adam seemed… okay. Breathing deeply. His shoulders a little less hunched.

“Do you want to go on the Ferris wheel?” Will asked, his voice softer than usual.

Adam hesitated, staring at the slow, towering structure.

“It’s high,” he said.

“It is. But it’s not fast.”

Adam thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay. But I’m sitting inside. Not looking down.”

Will smiled slightly. “Deal.”

The cabin rose slowly, leaving them at the top for a few seconds. Adam didn’t say much, but he kept his face close to the glass, eyes fixed on the horizon like he wanted to memorize the whole view.

From up there, the people looked tiny. The muffled sounds through his headphones made everything more bearable. It was just the sky, the lights, and the quiet comfort of being with someone who understood without needing explanation.

When they came down, Will bought filled churros. Adam bit into his and watched the syrup drip with intense concentration.

“Is it good?” Will asked.

Adam nodded, his mouth full.

“Are you okay?”

Adam took his time to answer. Then said:

“Here I don’t have to pay attention to everything.”

Will didn’t say anything. He just gently placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder and let him choose the next ride.

It was the carousel.

Adam didn’t like fast rides or loud music, but the carousel was predictable. Round. Calm. And he chose a white horse with a golden ribbon, holding tightly to the bars like that moment needed to last forever.

Will stood nearby, leaning against the railing. Watching.

And for a brief moment, among the colorful lights, the smell of fried food, and the old music playing in the background, Adam smiled.

Not much. Just a little.

But enough for Will to notice.

The carousel was still spinning when Adam spotted a familiar figure near one of the shooting booths. He squinted, furrowing his brow behind his headphones. He thought it was impossible. Or that his mind was blending memories with the present, like it sometimes did.

But no.

It really was Nigel.

Leaning against the side of the booth, a soda can in his hand, black hoodie dusty and worn. He looked out of place, like he’d ended up there by accident. The kind of guy who clearly didn’t care about looking bored in a place made for fun. There was something in the way he watched the crowd, with disdain, but not quite able to leave.

Adam froze in the middle of the walkway, churros still in hand.

Will, who was walking a few steps ahead, noticed the sudden pause and turned back.

“Something wrong?”

Adam took a moment to answer. Then, he slowly removed one of his headphones.

“It’s him,” he said quietly.

Will followed his gaze.

“Who?”

“Nigel.”

Will looked at him, surprised.

“That Nigel?”

Adam just nodded. His chest rose and fell slowly.

Will looked again. He saw the boy alone, expression dry, but eyes sharp, like he knew he was being watched.

“You want to talk to him?” Will asked.

Adam swallowed hard.

“I don’t know. He makes me feel… weird.”

Will chuckled softly, brushing his brother’s hair with his fingertips.

“Go on.”

Adam hesitated a moment longer before stepping forward, like he was crossing into forbidden ground.

When he finally stopped in front of Nigel, he still didn’t know what to say.

Nigel broke the silence first.

“You stalking me at parks now? Gonna turn this into a legal case?”

Adam turned red, lowering his gaze.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Nigel took a sip of his soda, not taking his eyes off him.

“Sure.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Just the distant sound of rides and the pop of a balloon bursting nearby.

Then Adam said, “That’s my brother. Will.”

Nigel glanced over at the older guy watching from afar.

“Will, huh?”

Adam nodded.

“He know you trail after me like some lab rat?”

“I’m not a rat,” Adam mumbled.

Nigel gave a half-smile, tired. But it wasn’t real laughter.

“So, Adam. You enjoy places like this?”

Adam shrugged.

“It’s predictable. I like that.”

Nigel studied him for a moment. Then looked at the carousel spinning behind him, eyes narrowing like there was some old memory tucked away in there.

“When I was a kid, I wanted to live on a carousel. So I wouldn’t have to go back home.”

Adam hadn’t expected that.

Before he could respond, Nigel frowned and added, rougher now:

“Forget it. I’m talking shit.”

Adam looked at him, not blinking.

“I like when you talk shit.”

Nigel stared at him, like he wasn’t sure if that was a joke or a compliment. Then he ran a hand through his hair, impatient.

Adam said nothing.

Nigel looked away.

“Alright, fine. If you want to ride that damn Ferris wheel, I’ll go with you. But only if I don’t have to share churros with anyone.”

Adam didn’t smile. But his eyes lit up a little.

“Deal.”

Will, from a distance, just watched. And for the first time, he really saw Nigel. Saw how he spoke to his brother, how he pretended not to care… but stayed.

He stayed.

And something in the protective older brother’s heart warmed.

Adam walked alongside Nigel in silence, his steps a bit quicker than usual. Occasionally, he’d bump into Nigel’s arm without noticing. But Nigel didn’t complain. He just shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets and huffed, as if he were there against his will, even though he’d been the one to suggest the Ferris wheel.

Will trailed a few steps behind them, pretending to look at his phone.

At the front of the line, the ride operator eyed the two boys impatiently:

"You riding together or separate?"

Adam opened his mouth, unsure what to say. Nigel was faster: “Together."

The operator nodded and let them into the same cabin.

Inside, the silence was immediate. Adam looked out the window. Nigel looked at Adam.

The wheel began to climb.

The sun was already setting, staining the sky with faded orange and blue. The park lights flickered like artificial fireflies, and from up high, everything seemed small and distant.

"You’re the only idiot who doesn’t look at me like I’m a problem," Nigel said suddenly, his voice low, not facing Adam directly.

Adam blinked, processing.

"But you are a problem."

Nigel looked at him, surprised. Adam continued:

“I just don’t think that’s a bad thing."

For a moment, Nigel seemed about to laugh. Or say something cruel. But he didn’t. He just turned his face away and stayed quiet, his jaw clenched.

"My brother thinks I’m kind of obsessed with you," Adam said after a few seconds.

Nigel raised an eyebrow.

"Are you?"

Adam didn’t answer right away. “I just like watching people who don’t lie."

"I lie like hell, Adam."

"But you don’t pretend to be good. That’s what I meant."

Nigel fell silent. Then he bit his lip, and for a second, he looked uncomfortable, not the "bored" kind, but the "someone saw more than I wanted them to" kind.

The wheel began its slow descent.

"You should stop following me," Nigel said.

Adam nodded, his eyes still fixed on the horizon.

"I know."

Nigel looked at him with a mix of irritation and something harder to name.

"But you won’t."

Adam shook his head.

"No."

Nigel laughed dryly. Almost bitterly.

"Fine. But if anyone asks... I let you hang around. Not the other way around."

Adam finally smiled. Small. Faint.

"Okay."

The Ferris wheel turned slowly, groaning softly like ancient breath. The wind up there tousled both their hair, Adam’s fell into his eyes, and he didn’t mind. Nigel wiped his forehead with his hoodie sleeve, as if it were hotter than it really was.

The silence returned, but it was different now. Thick. Electric.

Adam bit his lip nervously and looked away from the window. He stared at the cabin floor, then at Nigel’s dirt-stained sneakers. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry. His heart raced. He didn’t understand what this was, only that it was hard to breathe normally.

"I…" Adam began softly.

Nigel stared at him, his eyes darker inside the cabin, as if swallowing the faint light. He said nothing, just waited. It only made things harder.

"I think I like it when you’re close."

Nigel didn’t react for several seconds. Not a blink. Then he huffed, almost indignant.
"Fucking hell," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "Don’t say that shit, man."

Adam lowered his head, embarrassed.

"Sorry."

"No, it’s not that," Nigel snapped back too quickly. He seemed… restless. His knee bounced as he looked everywhere but at Adam. "It’s just… I don’t know what to do with that."

The wheel turned again, and the world below seemed unhurried.

"You don’t have to do anything," Adam whispered.

Nigel glanced sideways at him. Something burned in his eyes. Anger, maybe, but the kind born from not knowing what you feel. A defensive anger, the kind that shields you before admitting you care too much.

He opened his mouth, hesitated… then said:
"You make me nervous, y’know?"

Adam stared back, surprised.

Nigel slapped his own knee, frustrated.

"Shit. Forget it. I didn’t say anything."

"But I—"

"Shut up, Adam. Please."

No real anger lived in his voice. Only a confused exhaustion, the weight of someone who’d never been allowed to be vulnerable.

Adam leaned back on the wooden bench and fell silent. But his shoulder brushed Nigel’s. And Nigel didn’t pull away.

They stayed like that until the ride ended.
Silence. Shoulders touching.

"Don’t look at me like I’m special, okay?"

Adam nodded.

But he smiled anyway.

The Ferris wheel rose again. Slowly. They were still inside the cabin, another turn, even though no one had asked. Maybe the operator had gotten distracted, maybe the universe was just quietly conspiring to keep them from getting off yet.

Nigel said nothing. His hands were buried in his pockets, shoulders tense, jaw clenched. Adam stood beside him, body still, but his eyes… his eyes tracked Nigel’s slightest movements, as if trying to decipher a puzzle Nigel didn’t want solved.

The orange evening light spilled through the cabin windows like everything inside was submerged in warm water. Distant sounds drifted in—screams, music, the metallic voice of some ride—but inside, everything felt muffled. As if the world was holding its breath.

Adam swallowed hard.

Nigel stared straight ahead but saw nothing. As if his own thoughts were tormenting him. He ran his tongue over his lips, impatient, and spoke:

"Why do you look at me like that?"

Adam hesitated.

"Like what?"

"Like I’m…" Nigel gestured, irritated. "I dunno. Like you like me."

Adam lowered his gaze.

"Because I do."

The reply was simple. Clear. Unapologetic.

Nigel huffed, turning his face away. Silence stretched over seconds that felt longer than they should.

"You’re an idiot," he muttered under his breath. "You’ve got no idea what you’re doing."

Adam nearly replied but stopped when he felt Nigel’s eyes on him again. They were different now. Intense. Fierce. As if something was boiling inside him, fighting to stay contained.

It lasted only a second.

Suddenly—yet inevitably—Nigel closed the distance. He grabbed Adam by the collar of his coat, a rough, almost rude gesture. And kissed him.

Fast. Firm. No time to think.

Adam froze. His heart raced, the world spinning faster than the Ferris wheel.

The kiss wasn’t sweet. It was messy, muffled, urgent. Noses bumped. Teeth clashed. Nigel seemed nervous. Trembling slightly.

Then, as quickly as it began, he pulled back.

Eyes wide. Breath heavy.

"Forget that," he rasped. "Fuck… forget I did that, okay?"

Adam still couldn’t speak.

Nigel retreated to the corner of the cabin, gaze averted, slamming his foot hard against the metal floor as if needing to release the tension.

"It was a mistake," he said. But his voice held no conviction.

Adam breathed deep. Slow. And for the first time, said nothing. Just stood there, fingers twisting in his coat, lips still burning.

Outside, the park flashed with colors and sounds.

Inside, the world had changed.

Nigel clicked his tongue impatiently, muttering under his breath:

"Fuck, what was that? You shouldn't have let me—"

Before he could finish, Adam stepped forward, eyes locked on Nigel’s with a determination Nigel hadn’t expected.

Without hesitation, Adam touched Nigel’s face with his fingertips, leaned in slowly, and kissed him.

This kiss was soft, almost a silent challenge.

Nigel froze, surprised, eyes widening for a moment. But this time, he didn’t pull away.

What had been a rough, confused impulse now felt like an invitation, a quiet answer Nigel couldn’t put into words.

He bit his lip, trying to hide the blush rising to his cheeks, and finally let silence take the place of sharp words.

Adam, heart pounding, stayed there. Feeling that for the first time, Nigel wouldn’t run from him.

Nigel stood frozen for a moment, his eyes locked on Adam's as if trying to process what had just happened.

His face was flushed, but not just with anger; there was something else there, something he didn’t even want to admit to himself.

He took a step back, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and looking away, his voice low and rough:

"Fuck off, Adam. You're making me nervous."

Adam smiled, half shy, half challenging.

"I think you like it."

Nigel huffed, a sound caught between laughter and irritation.

"I'm not gonna let you use me for this, idiot."

But he didn’t leave. He stayed, unmoving, as if waiting to see what would happen next.

Adam took another step closer, their faces inching together slowly, and whispered:

"You don’t even have to say anything. I already get it."

The silence grew so thick it seemed to fill the entire cabin. Outside, the park kept spinning with its lights and noise, but in here—in this moment—there was only them.

Nigel froze for a moment, his eyes locked onto Adam's, his face still etched with that volatile mix of anger, confusion, and something he was desperately trying to hide… fear, perhaps.

The tension between them thickened like the stifling air trapped inside the cabin.

Then, in a move that felt almost desperate, Nigel stepped forward, closing what little distance remained between them.

Before Adam could even process it, Nigel yanked him close, one strong hand pinning Adam's arms to his sides while the other pressed firmly against the cabin wall.

Nigel's eyes burned with raw intensity as, without warning, he crushed his lips against Adam's, a rough, urgent kiss, charged with all the anger and confession he'd been fighting for so long.

Adam gasped against his mouth, his entire body shuddering, but he didn't resist. Instead, he kissed back just as fiercely, as if he could finally hold onto what he felt without fear.

The world outside ceased to exist.

In that tiny, trembling space—lit by flickering lights and the slow creak of the Ferris wheel—Nigel finally let all his defenses fall.

Nigel kept his arms locked tight, holding Adam with a grip that was equal parts urgency and raw need. His lips pressed hard against Adam's, a collision of pent-up frustration and longing that had simmered too long. His breathing came ragged, nearly breaking, as his clenched eyes fought to shut out the storm inside.

Adam felt the heat of Nigel’s body, the frantic pulse hammering against his own, and for the first time, he didn’t want to pull away. Instead, he gave in, fingers twisting into Nigel’s hoodie, holding on like this kiss was the anchor they’d both been searching for.

The world around them blurred. The creak of the Ferris wheel, the distant park noises, everything dissolved into a silence that belonged only to them. When Nigel finally broke away, his eyes were glassy, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.

“I don’t know how to do this," Nigel muttered, voice rough, barely audible.

“We’ll figure it out. Together."

Nigel stared at him, hesitated, then a crooked, real smile cracked through his usual hardened mask.

“Idiot."

Adam huffed a quiet laugh as the cabin descended, carrying them back down to a world that suddenly felt less terrifying.

[…]

Adam stepped off the Ferris wheel with an uncharacteristically light step. His hoodie sat crooked on his shoulders, the collar stretched as if someone had gripped it tight, but he didn’t even notice. His headphones still hung around his neck, silent.

The world around him was loud—shrieking crowds, flashing lights—but Adam moved as if wrapped in a warm, private bubble, smiling at nothing.

Will was leaning against a cotton candy cart, scrolling on his phone. He glanced up as his brother approached, and frowned. Adam looked… different. A strange expression on his face. A dazed, almost enchanted little smile. Eyes too bright.

Will stood.

"What happened to you?"

Adam stopped in front of him, that soft smile still playing on his lips. He looked at the ground, then the sky, then finally at his brother.

"Nothing."

Will narrowed his eyes.  “Nothing, huh?"

Adam bit the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t used to this—to secrets.

"Nigel?"

Adam didn’t answer. Just nodded, slow and small. Almost childlike.

Will exhaled hard, crossing his arms.

"Did he do something?"

"Yeah," Adam murmured. Then, voice quiet but unmistakably proud, cheeks faintly pink: "He kissed me."

Will froze. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

"...What?"

Adam nodded again. Still smiling.

Will dragged a hand down his face.

"Jesus, Adam..."

But he didn’t finish. Because Adam looked so calm. So happy, a rare, fragile kind of peace that felt wrong to shatter.

Will sighed, defeated.

"Fine. Fine. But you tell me if he pulls any shit. Anything. Got it?"

Adam just leaned his head against Will’s shoulder and stayed there for a moment. Quiet.

Will, still uneasy, let his arm slide around his brother.

"You’re being weird," he muttered.

Adam answered without thinking:

"I’m okay."

"He's... just like you described," Will muttered under his breath.

"Like what?"

"Like a stray animal that bites when you get too close."

Adam considered this for a moment. Then said quietly:

"But I think he only bites because no one's ever touched him gently before."

Will looked at his brother, surprised. And for the first time, he realized: Adam didn't need protecting all the time.

Sometimes, he just needed to be left near someone who made him feel something.

Even if that someone was Nigel.