Chapter Text
When you don’t know what you’re living for, you don’t care how you live from one day to the next. You’re happy the day has passed and the night has come, and in your sleep you bury the tedious question of what you lived for that day and what you’re going to live for tomorrow. (Oblomov, Ivan Goncharov )
Something shattered in the apartment above Drew's at around 1 a.m.
The only reason he had been awake to hear it was Jake. He had sent Drew a text over thirty-two hours ago, and even though Drew had replied to it fast (not too fast—he had waited an appropriate fifteen minutes before sending the reply), the text hadn't left his thoughts since. It kept knocking him over during his daily routine, occupying his thoughts when he should have focused on studying.
When Jake told him that he would be coming over soon, Drew felt like he had suddenly broken a trance that had surrounded him for all these months. He had blinked, and suddenly it was winter. It was winter, and Drew couldn't recall the last time he had a conversation with someone who wasn't Jake. And he hadn't talked to Jake for a long time either, frequent texts their only form of catching up. The days in between had been woven together into one long, repeating week.
Drew waited to see Jake again with a mix of relief and quiet anticipation—he needed a break from his mundane routine. Then again, maybe he just wanted to see Jake.
But the place Jake chose for their meeting... was making him overthink. Which led him to that sleepless Thursday night.
Leaning back against the pillows, half under the covers of his linen sheets, his laptop illuminated the room in a blue light as he once again browsed the website Jake had linked to in his message. Drew was frustrated with himself for fretting over something as simple as an invitation to a restaurant. With a friend he hadn’t seen in half a year. Yet, something about it felt off.
When Drew and Jake had time to hang out, it wasn't unusual for them to go out to eat or even cook together. (Drew usually ended up cooking for them both. Jake had more experience preparing his own meals, but had never been very skilled at it. He had a tendency to underseason and either undercook or overcook everything). This time, the place Jake had invited him to wasn't really their status quo, and Drew didn't know what to make of it. Choosing such a fancy place was out of character for Jake, who often forgot he even had the money for things like this.
Rubbing his tired eyes, he closed the fine dining restaurant's website and shut off his laptop. He slid out of bed reluctantly, the chill of the open air wrapping around him.
His apartment was like a frozen picture; he could hear the soft hum of the refrigerator as he stepped into the kitchen and the faint sounds of nightly city traffic from outside. Filling up a glass of water, his eyes landed on the clock on the wall, the late hour staring back at him.
Drew was no stranger to late nights. There were many times he stayed up, feeling like it might delay tomorrow's arrival. It wasn’t that he had any reason to fear the next day—nothing unusual was likely to happen—but it often felt like time was slipping away from him. Even though he was still just twenty-three, he couldn’t shake the worry that he was falling behind. The idea of getting older made him uneasy. It was frightening how years seemed to pass faster and faster the older you got. It made him want to cling to what he had as hard as possible, only to find out his fingers had nothing to grasp.
As Drew finished up drinking, he heard it. Muffled thuds from above.
At first, they seemed like a part of the picture, blending into the background. He leaned back against the counter, trying to shut out the noise, but the sounds grew louder, more insistent—a raised voice, low and dangerous, echoing like distant thunder. Then something shattered.
Drew froze, straining to listen. His mind scrambled for an explanation—an accident? Maybe someone had dropped something. But the shouting, rising in intensity, was harder to excuse. Another dull thud, followed by a sound that could only be crying.
Drew’s pulse quickened as he set his empty glass on the counter. He crossed the room to grab his phone, torn: was it his place to get involved? Before he could decide, the bang of a slammed door reverberated through the ceiling. The night fell silent as abruptly as it had been broken.
He waited for a while, fingers hovering over the dial, but no more sounds came. Whatever had happened, it was over. And really, one fight between some random ass people wasn't worth calling the police for.
He let out a slow breath and placed the phone back down. Almost on autopilot, Drew moved through the rest of his routine: washed his face and brushed his teeth—the running water and each clink of the toothbrush against the sink sounded louder than they should have. After rinsing his mouth, he turned off the bathroom light, leaving the apartment in darkness. He slipped back into bed, the warm sheets inviting, unlike the chill that had sunk into him.
Drew lay still for a while, eyes closed, but sleep wouldn’t come. He shifted under the covers, turning from side to side in search of some comfort. The familiar itch on his upper thighs was annoying, so he scratched at it. The more he tossed and turned, the more awake he felt. He flipped his pillow, hoping the cool side might help him relax, but his thoughts refused to quiet. Clenching the covers in his fists, he replayed the shouting, the crying. But that wasn't what really bothered him. It was everything else. Like the walls around him were closing in.
Jake. That was what his mind latched onto, trying to drown out the unease. Jake was coming soon, and like always, Drew wasn't sure if it would make things better or worse.
The restaurant was in a nice spot tucked away from the bustling streets, its warm, inviting lights glowing softly through the large windows. Inside, everything looked serene, the opposite of what Drew felt churning within. He fiddled with his jacket cuffs, just for his hands to have something to do while he waited. The wind was cold against his neck and fingertips, but he didn’t mind it. His body ran hot with teetering energy anyway.
He pinpointed Jake as soon as he appeared from around the corner, the familiar figure slipping through the evening crowd. Drew forced his stance to relax and his restless hands to still.
"Jake," Drew greeted, his voice slightly breathy, akin to releasing a long-held exhale. He had hoarded that name in his mouth for months. His gaze swept over Jake, and a flicker of amusement cracked through the tension in his chest. "What are you wearing?"
He wasn’t really referring to Jake’s outfit. In fact, the tailored dark blue khakis and matching blazer were more formal than Drew was used to seeing on him. Jake looked sharp, polished even, and it definitely didn’t make Drew feel any type of way. No, not at all.
What he was referring to was the sunglasses and mask covering Jake’s face, with a cap pulled low, hiding most of his hair.
“Hey! This is my disguise, okay?" Jake chuckled. His voice was light, but there was a warmth to it that hadn't changed. "And Drew, hi! I hope you didn’t have to wait long?”
“No, I just arrived,” Drew lied. “Disguise? Seriously? I recognized you immediately. And that attracts more attention if anything. You might as well be holding a sign that says ‘I’m a celebrity!’”
"Shhh!" Jake hissed. "I'm gonna die if the paparazzi ruin yet another night that I just want to spend in peace!"
Drew rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Take those off and let’s go,” he huffed, turning on his heel with more confidence than he actually felt.
He could hear Jake's footsteps quicken behind him, followed by the rustling of fabric as Jake ditched his ridiculous ‘disguise.’ Jake fell into step beside him as they crossed through the restaurant doors together, the warmth and soft ambient light washing over them both.
For a second, Drew couldn’t tell if the heat rising in his chest was from the sudden shift in temperature or the fact that Jake was right there, so close that Drew could feel his presence like a gravitational pull. It made Drew hyper-aware of every detail, like the faintest scent wafting off Jake. Cologne, Drew blinked as the realization hit, a scent of fresh apricot and pine. Jake never used to wear cologne. When did that change?
Drew's head instinctively tilted toward him, as if drawn by the gravity, only to find Jake already looking at him, a gentle, almost unguarded smile playing on his lips.
Jake had grown into his adult features in a way that suited him. The softness in his cheeks had faded, giving way to sharper lines, more defined angles. His hair, longer now than it used to be, reached his collarbones when left down. But like usual, he had it pulled into a small, neat ponytail, exposing his shaved sides. A few loose curls framed his face, and Drew had to fight the idiotic urge to reach out and tuck them behind Jake's silver-pierced ears.
His gaze flicked away fast. To his luck, he noticed a waiter approaching them, a polished smile on her face. It faltered when she noticed Jake, a flicker of recognition and surprise briefly crossing her features. Drew kept a sharp eye on her, pleased to notice her professionalism return to cover her taken-aback state.
"Good evening, gentlemen," the waiter greeted them warmly. "Do you have a reservation?"
"Yeah," Jake said, clearing his throat. "Jake Sterling."
Pointedly, the waiter didn’t react to the name, just checked her list and nodded. "Right this way, please."
She led them through the dining area, passing tables adorned with white linens and flickering candles. Drew took in the couples seated at the tables, the roses in the vases, and the piano piece playing quietly in the background. Great. This night might be a personal hell curated just for him.
They stopped at a cosy table nestled near a window, a more private spot further away from the other tables.
"Here you are," the waiter said, gesturing for them to sit. "Can I start you off with something to drink?"
Drew and Jake shared a look, an unspoken exchange passing between them.
"Water is fine for now," Jake replied as they settled into the chairs.
Drew tried to read the menu, but his mind was focused on Jake, words only swimming in front of his eyes. He watched the way he relaxed into the chair, his fingers tracing the edge of the menu absentmindedly.
"So, what do you think of the place?" Drew asked, trying a subtle way to gauge a reaction.
"It’s nice," Jake said, glancing around. A bit of nervousness slipped through as he added, hesitant, "a bit fancier than usual, though. I hope that's... okay?"
Drew shook his head. "No, it’s fine. If anything, I'm used to places like these." But not you being in them with me.
Jake smiled, that easy, genuine smile that always made Drew's lungs constrict. "Great! I figured it was time to change things up a bit."
Their drinks arrived, and Drew took a moment to collect his thoughts as he sipped the cool water. He was still trying to figure out what 'changing things up' meant for them, a question lingering in the back of his mind.
“So, what do you want to eat?” Jake asked, shifting the focus back to the menu.
Drew shrugged, glancing at the options but hardly registering them. Whatever steak they had would do.
After placing their orders, Jake turned searching eyes his way. "So, how’s everything been with you?"
Drew felt a moment of hesitation, trying to find any words. What was there to talk about? "It’s been... busy. You know how it is; I mention it often enough. University."
"Yeah, I'm just lucky I don't have to worry about studying anymore. But busy, that I get." Jake nodded. "Sometimes it feels like there aren’t enough hours in the day, right? But I bet you're acing your classes. You've always been smart."
Drew felt some of the tension leak away from him. This was just him and Jake, two friends here to catch up, he reminded himself.
"Thanks, I’m trying. And you? How’s everything on your end? Other than busy."
"Oh, you know—the tour, the new album—it was all a lot. If we didn't think things were hectic in LA before, we certainly do now," Jake laughed, but it fell flat. "Just trying to find time for the things that matter."
There was a hint of something deeper in his voice, a thread of vulnerability that caught Drew’s attention. “Like what?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.
Jake hesitated, the light flickering in his eyes as he considered his words. "Just… life, I guess. Figuring out what I want to do, what makes me happy." He paused, looking directly at Drew. "Spending time with friends, like this, is part of it."
Drew felt a hesitant warmth spread through him, both painful and happy all at once. He licked his lips. "Yeah, me too, I suppose."
As they waited for their food, Drew found himself bracing to ask the question he forced himself to ask every time they met up. He had been trying, after all. "And how's... How's Hailey been?"
It had taken him a few years to pronounce that name without it cutting a wound on his tongue along the way.
Jake straightened, his face shifting to a look of surprise. Drew was confused. "Wait, you— didn't I tell you?" Jake asked, clearly panicking a little.
"Tell me... what?" Drew questioned carefully, his heart ready to fall.
"We broke up."
What.
"Wait, what? When?!"
"Right before the tour, six months ago!" Jake slapped a hand to his face and dragged it down, slumping. "Oh my god, did I forget to tell you that...?"
Drew opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find something appropriate to say, his mind racing as he processed the revelation. After six years, they broke up. Just like that? The idea had never crossed his mind; since senior year, he had always pictured Jake and Hailey as an inseparable duo—like the moon and the sun, or coffee and mornings. (Sure, some awful part of him had hoped, but only out of pure selfishness.)
Drew had always figured they’d be the high school sweethearts who would stay together and eventually get married.
Well, shit.
"I'm..." What does one even say in this situation? "Sorry to hear that. You two— you seemed so, I don't know, normally close in all those interviews during the tour."
"Wait." Jake let his hand fall on the table, visibly flustered. "You watch our interviews?"
"That's what you focus on?" Drew exclaimed, feeling heat spread across his cheeks. "I do sometimes, not that often, really." He tried to sound casual, but he knew his YouTube history was filled with all the videos he could find of Jake and his inevitable tag-along, the other members of the Music Freaks.
"Oh, I'm kind of flattered to hear that." Jake said, though his smile faded as his gaze drifted toward the window. He let out a quiet sigh. "But yeah, with Hailey… That was for the public, you know? Our relationship—well, it was something the fans loved, right? We never really figured out how to break the news that we’d split. Eventually, we just decided not to. One day, they’ll see us with different people and realize we’ve moved on.”
That was the thing about being in the public eye. Jake had opened up about it to Drew before—how everything felt magnified. Every fight, every hug, every smile was turned into something for the world to dissect. It was like living with a spotlight pointed at you all the time. You started doing things for the cameras, for the fans, and stopped doing things for yourself. You stopped thinking about what you wanted and started worrying about what everyone else thought of you.
You had to figure out where the performance ended and where your life began. (But, some part of Drew had once liked to remind, Jake had been practising that balancing art way before his fame, hadn’t he?)
"You don't seem that upset about it," Drew observed, his brows furrowing as he tried to navigate this unfamiliar territory.
Jake shrugged. "It's a weird and complicated situation. It built up so slowly that by the time we realized we had lost feelings for each other, they had already been gone a while. It was just hard to recognize... the absence of something.
"After all, I still feel deeply about her; she'll always be my partner in a way. On stage, in music, in our common passion. She’s like my soulmate, but… there’s nothing romantic between us anymore."
It sounded like these two had had the most casual, mutual breakup. For something that had been that long and serious, it was weird.
"Besides… she has someone else.” Jake said the word with an amused weight, as if genuinely happy for her.
It didn't make enough sense.
"So," Drew tried to find a—hmm, a more appropriate angle—to pry more information, "how did you know it was over? Like, when you stopped feeling the same about her?"
Just then, their food arrived, providing them both with a moment to gather their thoughts. The waiter set down their plates, and Jake offered a weak smile, but Drew could sense the heaviness still lingering in the air between them.
After the waiter left, they ate in silence for a while. Then, Jake began, “I realized it when I noticed I was more in love with the memories of us than with the person standing right in front of me. I caught myself acting the same way around her as I did with my other friends. We only seemed like a couple in front of the cameras. We would kiss, but it’d be brief, and it felt like neither of us craved more. Somewhere along the way, the spark had just dimmed. It had been like this for... a year, maybe, before we finally broke up.
"And honestly, we were both kind of down about it. It was disheartening to realize that you could just... fall out of love with someone. There was nothing wrong exactly; it didn’t feel like we had any major problems in our relationship. Sure, we’d argue like all couples do and have our fights. At least it was mutual. Otherwise, this might have ended much worse."
Was this the part where he was supposed to be comforting? "I've heard it's not uncommon to fall out of love in a relationship. It must really suck, though."
"It's hard to know," Drew hesitated, before adding quietly, "when to give up and when to salvage it."
"Thanks," Jake murmured, his gaze flickering back up to meet Drew's. "It feels strange, but I guess it’s all part of life and growing up and whatever, right?"
Drew nodded. "We’re all just trying to figure it out."
“Yeah…” Jake agreed. “But enough about me! Uh, so… what about you? Have you found anyone… like that?”
Oh, great. One of Drew's most dreaded questions. He stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth, buying himself a moment to think how to answer.
If Drew were honest, he wouldn’t even know where to begin:
He could start with the failed dating attempts over the years—how, for some reason, it had all started with Lia, of all people. She had approached him after he and Jake had reconciled. Before then, Drew had never cared for Lia much; she had always been the girl at Zoey’s beck and call, the slightly annoying one who wouldn’t stop her one-sided flirting with Jake. But that day in their senior year, Lia had come up to him, eyes heavy with sincerity, and apologized for never telling him about Zoey’s cheating, even though they had all been part of the same group. They’d ended up talking about their experiences with Zoey (read: they trash talked her), and one thing led to another.
They shared a few dates, although Drew figured they were both just looking for a distraction. It never went anywhere. They never told anyone, and neither of them brought it up again.
After that, Drew had made some kind of effort—half-hearted, but an effort nonetheless. He tested out some dating apps, never asking anyone out. But he got asked a few times, by both girls and guys. Each date seemed doomed from the start. They were always either too tall, too short, not blond enough. They didn’t look at him in the right way or talk about the right things.
He always ended up ghosting his dates, and it felt good to be able to be mean again, without consequences. It felt good to stare them down from across the table, unimpressed, watching them flounder and fluster as they desperately tried to figure out what they had done wrong.
Old habits were hard to shake, after all.
He could tell Jake that he didn't take chances with people. Life was too short, yet he couldn’t bring himself to just go for it. He wasn’t able to trust anymore, not even enough to let someone in as a friend—let alone as a partner. He wasn’t as bitter now as he had been in his teens, but he felt even more unreachable.
He could confess how much he craved affection—he did. Yet even the mere thought of someone caring made him sick to his stomach.
But in the end, Drew didn’t waste his breath. He never did.
“No,” he said simply, his voice flat. “I haven’t.”
Jake exhaled a breath. “Oh, okay. I see, well, umm—”
Jake hurried to change the subject, steering them back into safer territory. The conversation shifted, and soon they were talking about easier, more neutral topics as they ate. Drew mentioned a few of his school projects, trying to add some dry humour about late-night cramming sessions and confusing group work dynamics.
Jake, in turn, shared more about his music tour—detailing the highs and lows of life on the road. He told Drew about the chaotic travel schedules, mishaps backstage, and some of the funny stories that had cropped up over the past months. There was the time Milly locked herself out of the hotel room in her pyjamas or how a fan had thrown a bouquet of roses onstage in the middle of a performance.
It was light, easy conversation, the kind they always fell back into.
As the evening wore on and their plates were cleared away, Drew found it harder to stay present. His eyes kept drifting to the flickering candlelight that cast a delicate, golden glow over Jake’s face, making his every word seem more significant than it was. Drew's ears grew sensitive to the slow song playing in the background. His palms began to sting, and the dryness in his throat became unbearable. He could feel the suffocating weight of it all, threatening to pull him under.
Without fully realizing it, he blurted out, "Okay, this has been fun, really. But I think I should go. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow."
Drew watched Jake’s expression visibly fall as he pushed his chair back and stood up, slightly off-balance.
“But we didn’t even get dessert yet,” Jake tried, rising to his feet as well.
“Sorry, maybe some other time,” Drew replied, shrugging into his jacket.
Jake accepted the abrupt change without further questions. He was too damn kind. “Let me at least walk you to your car?”
Drew paused, his heart racing, but he didn’t dare to hesitate. “Sure.”
As they stepped outside, the cool night air hit Drew like a splash of cold water, momentarily grounding him. The parking lot was dimly lit, shadows pooling beneath the trees. He walked a few steps ahead, acutely aware of Jake’s presence beside him, the rhythm of their footsteps in sync.
“I really did enjoy tonight,” Jake said, breaking the silence as they approached Drew's car. “It felt nice to catch up. I’ve missed this.”
Drew glanced at him, secretly amazed by the sincerity in Jake's voice. “Yeah, me too.” He fumbled with his keys, trying to distract himself from the weight of Jake’s gaze. After a moment, he decided to do the right thing. “What time is your flight tomorrow? If you want, you can come over.”
“Ah, sorry. It’s an early morning for me as well. If I could choose, I would stay here longer,” Jake said, scratching the back of his neck, guilt in his eyes. Drew had expected that. “More shows, more recording. It can be a lot.”
“I don't envy you.”
Jake fell quiet, and Drew could sense the tension building again, a current of unspoken thoughts flowing between them. The familiar click of the car lock echoed in the stillness of the night as Drew slid into the driver's seat. Jake leaned against the car, looking hesitant, his brows furrowed in thought. “I wanted to ask you something before you leave. You can totally say no if you’re not interested. It’s—well, it’s pretty sudden, I suppose.”
“Okay?”
Jake took a deep breath, his expression shifting to one of earnestness. “Two weeks from now, there’s going to be this event that me and the others are invited to. We get to bring a plus one. I wondered if you… if you would like to come with me?”
Drew felt like a deer caught in the headlights, desperately trying to mask the fact he was one. He searched for the right words.“...Does that seem like a good idea? The others will be there, right? Zander and Hailey don’t like me—like, at all. Remember?”
Jake laughed lightly, a sound that felt both reassuring and playful. “C’mon, I know you and Zander have that weird friendship going on that no one is ever supposed to mention aloud, or you both get all pissy and defensive.”
“We so do not,” Drew shot back, his nose scrunching up as if the very idea disgusted him.
Jake just shook his head, a grin spreading across his lips. “You so do. But seriously, think about it. I want to spend more time with you now that I’m able to, again.”
The words tugged at something deep within Drew. How could he say no to that? “Fine. I’ll come.”
Jake beamed, and the sight made Drew’s decision worth it. “I’ll look forward to it,” he said, his enthusiasm brightening the moment.
After realizing he had nothing to add, Drew closed the car door and started the engine. He watched Jake push off the car, stepping back.
“Drive safe,” Jake said, giving a small wave, his expression a blend of hope and uncertainty.
“See you around,” Drew replied, his mind a tangled mess as he pulled away from the curb. He glanced in the rearview mirror, watching as Jake stood there, framed by the dark and the streetlights, his figure slowly disappearing into the distance.
Drew had no idea what any of it meant anymore.
Drew stood in line at the grocery store, pretending that the items he held were just ordinary purchases. A packet of razor blades and a box of butterfly bandages.
It was one of those days when he opened his eyes and felt like his brain had already proclaimed that today would be awful, for no apparent reason whatsoever. He didn’t feel like doing anything, but with a lecture in the morning, he had to get up. After enduring a frustrating two-hour wait in the school library before his next class, the last lecture dragged on like a snail slithering across the road. Driving home, an intrusive thought had crossed his mind, causing him to wonder what would happen if he just swerved straight into a building.
Not in the mood to cook, he settled for whatever his fridge had to offer. By the time his hands itched to do something about his sour mood, he realized he was running low on supplies. And that’s how he found himself running a quick errand, the growing anger at nothing making him think he might snap at anyone who looked at him even slightly wrong.
As his turn came, Drew stepped up to the cashier and laid down his items. What happened next was, somehow, surprising enough that Drew forgot his irritation.
He could pinpoint the exact moment the woman behind the counter realized what those items were meant for. Her hand paused above them, hesitating.
There was nothing the cashier could do, of course, except her job. She knew it; he knew it. Reluctantly, she scanned the two items, taking her time.
Drew noticed she looked close to tears. No one had ever noticed before, so Drew couldn't have known to expect the surge of burning shame that coursed through his body. Wow, this was an experience he never wanted to repeat, thank you very much. Next time, he would have to choose a store with self-checkout.
The woman placed the items into a plastic bag and told him the price with a wavering voice. He paid swiftly, snatching the bag from her before she could hand it to him. “I hope it gets better,” she called after him, and Drew had nothing to say to that as he exited the store.
Geez, some people just cared way too much, way too easily. Maybe she was a mother.
The walk back wasn’t long. As Drew neared his apartment, the plastic bag swung heavily at his side despite its light contents. People passed him by, each immersed in their own lives, laughter drifting in from a distance. He kept his head down, finding no interest in observing the streets of San Francisco around him. By the time he reached his apartment, he was ready to escape into the familiar confines of his four walls.
The building Drew lived in was nice enough, a welcome upgrade from the university dorms where he had spent his first year. His apartment was located on the third floor, accessible by an elevator that would send a claustrophobic person into a panic attack or a well-maintained staircase that creaked slightly underfoot. Unlike the cramped quarters of the dorms, he had the luxury of privacy and space to breathe. He didn’t have to deal with the noise of late-night parties and the chaos of communal living. As an only child, he hadn’t grown used to sharing a living space with annoying people.
Drew had tried to get along with his peers—he really had. He forced himself to participate in small talk and focused on suppressing his ‘judgmental up-and-down look,’ as Liam liked to call it.
(It makes people feel insecure! Seriously, it made Henry want to cry when we all first met, Liam had teased.
To which Henry had replied, No, it didn’t—I’m not that sensitive!
Liar! You so are!)
But he gave up on making friends pretty soon into his first year and on dorm life right on his first day. He would rather pay for rent—not like it was his money anyway—than endure even a second of sharing a kitchen with someone else. The university hadn’t allowed him to move before the summer break, unfortunately.
Drew shut the door behind him with a soft click, grateful to finally be back inside the quiet of his apartment. He walked over to the window, twisting the blinds shut with a quick flick of his wrist, sealing himself off from the outside world. He dropped the plastic bag onto the counter with a muted thud, pulling his purchases from within and heading for the bathroom.
The small, tiled space was bathed in the harsh glare of the overhead light as Drew stepped inside. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror—his eyes shadowed in a lilac haze, face a little gaunt from the constant lack of sleep. His fingers lingered over the razor blades and bandages for a moment longer than necessary before setting them on the sink.
He took a quick shower first, letting the scalding water run over him, trying to dull the sharp edges of his thoughts. Then, he pulled out his first aid kit and got to work.
Later, as he rinsed the specks of blood from his fingers, the noise from upstairs broke through the quiet again, invading his space—those same sounds, the thuds and muffled yelling. Drew clenched his jaw. It was becoming seriously annoying at this point. His razor-thin patience of the day caused him to act.
He finished washing and drying his hands, moved through his apartment, and pulled on his shoes on the way out. He ran up the flight of stairs, each step pounding out the remains of frustration. Reaching the right apartment, he raised a fist and knocked firmly on the door.
A few minutes ticked by. He had no idea what to expect.
The door creaked open, and to Drew’s surprise, a small girl stood in the frame.
She couldn’t have been younger than seven, nor older than ten. Pale pink hair framed her thin face, and her clothes hung loosely on her frame, ill-fitting and threadbare.
Oh. His irritation was gone. What caught his attention, and filled him with nausea, was the faint bruise, a smudge of purple peeking out from under her collar.
She stared up at him silently, as if expecting something, but saying nothing. It just had to be some kid, huh? Drew pushed through his discomfort, lacing his voice with honey that did not fit him at all. “Hey, there… I live in the apartment below you. I keep hearing things that sound a little worrying. Is everything okay?”
The girl stared at him blankly, her lips pressed into a tight, thin line. “I haven’t heard anything,” she said.
Drew blinked, taken aback by her response. “Okay,” he said slowly, unsure what else to say. The weight of the moment settled in. “I just want you to know that if something is going on—”
“Abelle!” A woman’s voice rang out from somewhere deep within the apartment. “Where did that girl go!?”
Abelle’s eyes widened, flicking nervously toward the sound. She gave Drew a last, wide-eyed look, and without another word, she darted back inside and slammed the door, leaving Drew alone in the hallway. He stared at the door, feeling a wave of uselessness wash over him.
A helpless thing sprouting and twisting.