Fifteen minutes. That was all the time that had passed since Adam had walked out of that hallway with Abigail, yet it felt like he had lived through three different versions of himself inside that tiny pocket of the day.
By the time he made it back to the room, the late afternoon sun had dipped to a softer angle, filling the space with a muted amber haze that drifted across the floor in uneven stripes. Dust floated in the light like drifting pollen, catching the glow before vanishing in the shadows that stretched toward the two beds.
He closed the door behind him gently, almost too gently for someone who was supposed to be relieved. Everything with Abigail had gone fine. Better than fine. They talked it out, things made sense, nobody stormed off or yelled or cried. It should have felt clean.
It should have felt like closure or at least progress. But he could still feel an uncomfortable twist in his chest, like some emotional rope had been pulled in the wrong direction and left tangled inside him.
He stepped across the small corridor near the fridge, his sneakers brushing lightly against the floor as he moved into the larger rectangular space where the beds sat opposite each other. Bryce's blanket was messily folded on his side, a pair of headphones hanging off the corner. Adam's own bed sat across from it, sheets somewhat uneven, basketball bag half tucked underneath.
He sat on the edge of his mattress and ran a hand slowly over his face. He did not like the way his fingers trembled. He could not shake the weird sensation pulsing beneath his skin. It felt like he had been pushed slightly off center, just enough that the world no longer matched the angle he expected. When he replayed the conversation with Abigail in his head, he caught himself flinching at certain lines, moments where he had spoken faster or sharper than he ever would have under normal circumstances. He had sounded almost like someone else. He hated that he couldn't explain why.
The room felt too quiet, too still. He exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders drop as he stared at the floor, watching sunlight slide between the scuffs in the wood.
He tried to steady his breathing, inhaling through his nose, holding the air for a moment, letting it out again in thin threads. He had done this before, during stressful games or when studying late at night, but this time the calm did not settle as easily. His pulse kept throbbing at a quick rhythm, tapping against the underside of his jaw like a second heartbeat.
The door opened behind him with a soft creak. Bryce's voice filled the room before Adam even turned around.
"Man, you will not believe the circus I had to deal with." Bryce walked inside, letting the door fall shut behind him as he shook his head. His backpack was hanging off one shoulder, slightly lopsided from the weight of too many textbooks. "Like, I knew being student council president came with nonsense, but I did not sign up for refereeing a screaming match about who stole whose mechanical pencil. A pencil, bro. Not even a nice one. It was the kind with the cheap metal tip that bends if you breathe on it."
Adam forced a small laugh, though it came out quieter than usual. "Sounds rough."
"You're telling me. I had to stand there for, like, ten minutes while two dudes practically squared up over something you can buy in packs of ten at the dollar store. I swear my patience has a patience limit." Bryce tossed his bag onto his bed and rolled his shoulders as if shaking the memory off. "Anyway, what are you doing in here? Thought you would still be with Abigail."
Adam shrugged. "We… talked. We're good."
Bryce narrowed his eyes slightly as if reading between lines Adam was trying not to write. "You sure?"
"Yeah. Just thinking a lot." Adam's voice carried a strain he hoped Bryce would miss.
Bryce did not push, which Adam appreciated. Instead, he walked toward the center of the room, grabbed the back of one of the study chairs, spun it around, and dropped into it backward, resting his arms over the top. "By the way, you look weirdly bare. Where's your necklace?"
Adam blinked. He reached up automatically, fingers brushing the skin of his collarbone, finding nothing but warmth and an uncomfortable faint itch. His stomach tightened.
"Oh. I just… stopped wearing it."
Bryce lifted a brow. "Stopped wearing it? You've been rocking that thing every day since I gave it to you. What happened? You pawn it to fund your rap career?" He grinned, waiting for Adam to react.
This time Adam's laugh came out more genuine, even if still a bit strained. "You're never dropping that joke, huh."
"Never. You fit the stereotype too well. Tall, black, brooding, always looking like you are about to drop a fire verse. I gave you the chain and the universe said yes."
Adam shook his head, smiling faintly. "Relax. I didn't pawn it. I just… got this small rash on my neck. It got itchy, so I figured it was the chain."
Bryce's head tilted slowly, confusion knitting across his face. "That doesn't make sense. That was high grade stuff. No way it caused a reaction." He pushed himself up from the chair, standing fully. "Where is it? Lemme check."
Adam hesitated. "I think it's somewhere in my closet."
Bryce was already walking toward the two closets on the far wall, his footsteps cutting across the sunlit floor. "Cool. If it has a defect, I'll swap it out. You should not get rashes from stuff like this."
The late afternoon rays caught on his hair as he reached Adam's closet, sliding across the surface of the doors with a soft gleam. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled it open.
Something snapped inside Adam.
It was fast, too fast for him to control or understand. One moment he was sitting calmly on his bed, trying to be normal, trying to pretend he was not unraveling from the inside. The next, a sharp surge of irritation flared in his chest, rising like heat from a stove coil. The sight of Bryce reaching into his closet, his closet, made something primal tighten behind his ribs.
"Hey. Wait." Adam stood up quickly, voice cutting through the room sharper than he intended. "Don't go through my stuff."
Bryce paused, giving a confused half laugh. "Dude, relax. I'm not invading your secrets. I'm just checking a necklace."
But the irritation only sharpened, turning into a kind of instinctive alarm that pushed Adam two steps forward before he even realized he was moving. The distance between them vanished too quickly, his breath catching in his throat as his hand closed around Bryce's wrist with a suddenness that startled even him.
"Stop." Adam's voice was low. Too low. Tense in a way that scraped at the edges of something he did not want to name.
Bryce froze.
His eyes widened slightly, not in fear but in genuine surprise. Bryce knew Adam better than most people. He had seen him angry, stressed, exhausted, even emotional. But he had never seen him like this. Never seen him move with that much intensity over something so small. Never felt Adam grab him with that kind of grip.
"Whoa. Okay. Chill." Bryce raised his free hand slowly, palm open. "You good, man?"
The question felt like it echoed off the walls.
Adam blinked. The world snapped back into proper alignment as embarrassment flooded through him so suddenly it made his face feel hot. He let go of Bryce immediately, stepping back as if retreating from a flame.
"Sorry. Sorry. I don't know why I did that." His voice trembled slightly. He forced himself to swallow the panic tightening his throat. "My bad. I just… I have it. The necklace. It's not in the closet. It's here."
He reached into his pocket with shaky fingers and pulled it out. The silver gleamed faintly in the golden sunlight, reflecting slivers of warm orange across his palm. It felt heavier than usual.
Bryce stared at it for a long moment before taking it carefully. "See, that was not so hard. You should've just said that instead of trying to break my wrist." He smiled to soften the tension. "You got a mean grip for a basketball player."
Adam huffed out an awkward breath. "I am literally on the school team."
"Exactly. Which is why I am impressed." Bryce turned the necklace over in his fingers, inspecting the chain links. "No visible issues. I will get it tested. Probably nothing, but that rash is weird."
"Yeah. Weird." Adam rubbed the back of his neck gently, feeling the ghost of the itch, the ghost of that grip he had not meant to use.
Bryce stepped back toward his bed, giving Adam space without making it obvious. The room felt heavier now, the late afternoon light dimming slightly as a cloud drifted across the sun outside the massive window.
A quiet settled between them, but it was not the peaceful kind. It felt like something was hiding behind it, something watching from the corner of Adam's mind, waiting for another moment to push forward.
Bryce sat down slowly. He glanced at Adam once more, studying him with a subtle caution.
"You sure you're, okay?"
Adam nodded, though the motion felt stiff. "Yeah. Just tired."
The sunlight shifted again, crawling up the wall as it continued its slow descent. Shadows deepened in the corners of the room. The air felt thicker than before.
For a brief moment, Adam thought he heard something, a soft whisper of movement behind him near his bed, but when he turned, nothing was there. Just the uneven sheets and the warm glow sliding across the pillow.
He swallowed hard.
The moment passed, but the tension did not.
Something inside him had changed, and he could not explain it. He could not fight it. He could only hope it stayed quiet long enough for him to figure out what the hell was happening.