My Type of Socializing | ✓

Chapter 9

Since the day Assad had found Adam passed out on the floor, he had made it part of his routine to check up on Adam at his own apartment.

"What if you pass out in your room?" he had said in response to Adam not being fond of it at first. The older man had stared at him before looking down on the floor, not having anything to say in response. "Exactly."

Another thing that had happened since then was that Adam was a lot more comfortable hopping over to Assad's place. He didn't only go there to have lunch a few times a week anymore, he also went over to ask if Assad would like to do laundry together, play a video game, and sometimes he just went over because he felt like it. He was starting to appreciate the younger man with every passing day. Since Assad showed him his art, Adam had been asked his opinion on Assad's projects and schoolwork. Even though Adam didn't have much to say most of the time—he was a bad critic—Assad still valued what he had to say for whatever reason.

Having someone call you up at eleven in the night for your opinion on their homework should have been annoying, but it was far from that with Assad. The gesture was even endearing to him. It made him feel wanted. 

Adam licked his lips, picking at his nails. Another thing that happened over the past few weeks was that Adam had stopped making out of the box excuses for why he was the way he was with Assad. He liked him. He liked him a lot. Adam felt his chest squeeze up as a small sigh left his lips.

"What are you thinking about?"

Assad's voice pulled Adam out of his thoughts. The older man looked up from the floor tiles to stare at Assad who had managed not to make a mess of his room even though he was working with watercolor.

Adam shrugged, not feeling like using his words today. "Nothing really," he mumbled, listening to Assad hum in response. It was Thursday evening, and Assad didn't have a lot of time to spend with him since he had to finish a project that was due tomorrow, but Adam hung around his apartment, watching him work or wandering about the apartment that he had come to know every corner of.

"Hmm," Assad hummed, making Adam look up from his fingers that he has been picking.

"Hmm?" Adam repeated back at the man, raising a brow as he watched him drop his palette and take a seat on the stool that had mostly been ignored for most of the evening.

"Well, you must be bored so I was wondering..." Assad trailed, looking past Adam. "I was wondering if you would like to play a question game. We'll just ask each other questions, and we can skip if we don't want to answer it." Assad's grin was wide now, and Adam didn't seem to understand why he looked so excited. They asked each other questions all the time. Was Assad doing that thing where he was overly excited for something mundane?

"Okay," Adam said, pulling the covers of Assad's bed over his legs. When he had woken up in his bed all those weeks ago it had felt foreign to him, but now the strong foam and heavy duvet felt like home.

Assad looked away from him, turning his attention back to the hyper-realistic painting of a street. "You go first," he insisted picking up his palette and his paintbrush again.

"Oh, okay." The room fell into silence after that. Adam sat on the offer for a bit, not knowing what to ask Assad. There were things he wondered if they would come off as too rude or too personal.

He nibbled on his thumb's nail, deciding to give it a go anyway. "Could you talk about your ex, if you have one?" Adam stumbled over his words, but Assad seemed to hear him fine since the man turned around with wide eyes.

"Starting too strong, aren't we?" he laughed, making Adam scratch the back of his neck.

"You don't have to answer the question—"

"No, I'll answer it, it's fine," Assad insisted, cutting Adam off. "I've only dated one person so far. In high school," Assad explained, and Adam remembered that the man was indeed just barely out of high school since he had just started college this year.

"Oh," Adam said, wondering if he could just outright ask Assad his age. It was something that had never come up.

"How old are you?"

He went for it.

"Twenty since the month before, I did a gap year," Assad explain, and Adam hummed, nodding to himself. "You?"

"Almost twenty-five," Adam responded, and Assad just nodded his head.

"I guessed as much," he said, smiling. "Hey, you're not dodging the ex question. Care to talk about them?"

Adam felt his stomach sink for a bit. The horror must have been written on his face because Assad started to backtrack.

"Well, only if you want to, of course..." he trailed, making Adam look over at him.

"I'm fine." Adam insisted. It was a lie. His hands were shaking, and he felt like he could barely breathe, but he wanted to talk about Archie. He wanted to talk to Assad about the ex that was making his life a living hell. "We went to art school together, and we broke up just before our last year," Adam started, feeling his eyes prick with tears.

"Can I ask what happened?" Assad asked. His voice was gentle, and it made Adam's chest ache even more.

"Yeah," the older man said, letting out a sniffle. "He plagiarized my work."

"What the actual fuck."

Adam didn't know why, but Assad's reaction was comforting. He remembered spilling his guts out to a friend and crying over it, and they had shrugged him off, telling him that someone copying their concept a bit wasn't the end of the world, but it felt like the end of the world to Adam and he had really needed Assad to validate that feeling.

"Yeah..." Adam trailed, feeling a bit better. "We haven't talked in five years, but it still gets to me, I don't know..." There was another thing—that feeling that he was weak for not being able to let the past go, but Assad didn't say that instead, the man nodded like his reaction was the most reasonable thing in the world.

There was silence for a while afterward.

"Is there anyone you've liked since then? Or has that put you off dating?" Assad asked Adam, making the older man go rigid for a bit.

You. The word popped up in his head, but of course, he couldn't say that out loud. He wouldn't dare. If Assad so him as only a friend, he couldn't ruin it with his stupid feelings. So, he said, "No," instead. "I don't really feel like dating these days." His throat felt coarse from the lie. The truth was itching, and he wanted to come clean, but it hurt just thinking about the idea of Assad rejecting him. It was too soon. It was too fresh. He could wait out his crush. Or at least that's what he told himself.

"Do you, have anyone you're interested in?" Adam wasn't sure why he asked the question. Maybe he just wanted to take the spotlight off him, or maybe he wanted to know, truly. There was a spark of hope bubbling in his chest too. That maybe Assad liked him too and would be the one to cross the line and say the words.

"Yes." Adam became giddy. He watched Assad fidget a bit. It was odd, the man never looked anything but confident since Adam had known him, and he wondered where this shy soft mannered person had come from.

"Oh," Adam said. "Who?"

Assad shook his head. "It's a person in my photography class," he muttered, turning his attention back to his work. "He's really sweet, but I don't think he's gay, so it's whatever." Assad sounded sad about that.

Adam swallowed the spit that had built up at the back of his mouth. He felt sad. No, it was that. He felt more than just 'sad', he was crushed. "Oh."

Assad didn't say anything in reply to that, and the room fell into silence. Adam struggled to keep his composure. Assad liking someone was expected. He tried to tell himself that it made sense even though it crushed him inside.

Of course, Assad wouldn't like a home rat. He probably just pitied Adam and kept him company for his own sake, and not because he liked spending time with him. Of course, Assad would like someone out in the world socializing and being a functional human being. What had made Adam even theorize that he might be that important in the first place?