More than two hours had passed.
Adrian had lost count of how many times he checked the hallway, how many times he leaned forward, hoping to hear footsteps, voices, anything.
There were voices, some screaming, others locked in angry arguments, and the faint sound of a baby crying somewhere below. A cold draft slipped through the building, slamming into loose windows and doors that no longer closed properly.
But there was still no sign of Alex.
He pulled his coat tighter around himself, but it didn't help. The cold had crept in slowly at first, then sunk deep into his bones. Now he was shivering, fingers numb and jaw clenched to keep his teeth from chattering.
Sleep tugged at him, not because he was tired, but because the exhaustion and hunger were gnawing at the edges of his awareness like rats. His stomach ached so badly it almost felt like a second heartbeat.
He was lost in thought, doing his best to focus on anything but the hunger twisting in his gut and the cold sinking into his bones, when he heard footsteps coming from below. It was the third set he had heard since arriving, but this time, he let himself hope.
The footsteps were faint at first, but they kept getting louder. He straightened. The cold seemed to dull for a moment, overpowered by a sudden jolt of alertness. Someone was coming up the stairs.
Adrian pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly before catching his balance. He didn't want to look too desperate, even if he was.
A shadow stretched across the wall at the top of the staircase, followed by the shape of a figure rounding the final steps. It was him.
Alex.
His jacket was worn and stained, and a scar Adrian didn't recognize cut across his cheek. But the moment their eyes met, recognition flickered.
He looked older than Adrian remembered, not in his face, but in his eyes. That tired glint in his deep red gaze did not come from age, but from everything he had seen and survived. Adrian had learned to pick up on those signs since he started living in the slums, where every flicker in someone's eyes revealed more than words ever could.
"Adrian?" Alex blinked, his voice rough with surprise.
Adrian nodded, trying not to let the relief show too much. "Took you long enough."
Alex's eyes narrowed as he took in Adrian's worn frame. "You look like shit."
Adrian chuckled dryly, "Could say the same about you".
Alex gave a short, tired laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "Didn't think I'd see you again."
Alex retrieved a key from the pocket of his jacket and opened the door.
"Come on in".
Adrian stepped inside and closed the door carefully behind him. The apartment was noticeably larger than his own cramped space, and for the first time in a while, the furniture didn't look completely worn down.
Alex dropped his jacket onto a battered chair and looked Adrian over again. "It's been a while," he said.
Adrian's eyes flicked around the room, noticing the small details. "It's been a while; you've done well for yourself."
Alex's lips curled into a faint, proud smile. "Yeah, I'm doing better than I ever expected. More than I thought was possible."
Alex's eyes lingered a moment longer on Adrian's worn frame, the shadows under his eyes, the way he shifted uncomfortably.
"You look like you haven't eaten in days," Alex said quietly.
Adrian gave a tight smile, but said nothing.
Alex shook his head, standing up. "Wait here. I'll grab something."
He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Adrian alone in the quiet room.
Adrian sank onto the edge of the sofa, hands resting on his knees. The sofa was worn down, but still soft and comfortable. There were a few tears and stains, but for this part of the city, it might as well have been luxury.
He hated how quickly his eyes darted toward the kitchen. He hated how hopeful he felt over something as stupid as food. It made him feel smaller somehow. Like all the distance he'd put between himself and desperation had vanished in a breath.
A drawer opened in the other room, followed by the soft clinking of utensils shifting. Then a pause. The flick of a lighter cut through the stillness, followed by the faint hiss of a burner catching flame. The scent of something, maybe oil or spices, began to drift in. It was familiar, in a way that tugged at something deep inside him, though he couldn't place why. Or maybe it only felt that way because he was starving.
Adrian stared at the floor, trying not to listen, but every sound pulled at him like a thread. The shuffle of a pan. The rattle of a lid. It had been so long since he had heard those sounds in a kitchen that they hardly felt real.
A few minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Each pang of hunger gnawed louder than the last.
Then Alex came from the kitchen carrying two plates. He looked at Adrian with a smile. "Come on, it's your mom's special".
Adrian's lips curled up into a small, genuine smile, the faintest flicker of warmth.
Seeing this, Alex's smile grew brighter. "Figured you could use something familiar."
Then he placed the plates on the table. It was a stir-fry Adrian's mother used to make all the time, carrots, pepper, cabbage, and some kind of meat, all tossed together in a warm, savory mix. The smell hit him like a memory. It brought back quiet evenings, a full table, and the sound of laughter. For a moment, his world felt a little less broken.
He picked up the fork and took a slow bite.
It wasn't quite like his mother's. A little too savory, missing that faint hint of sweetness she always added. But that didn't matter. It was warm. It was real. And for the first time in days, it felt like something was right.
Looking at his expression, Alex chuckled lightly. " It's not exactly how she made it, but… I hoped it'd still feel like something."
Adrian didn't say a word. He just kept eating, slowly, like he didn't trust it to last. The silence lingered between them, unspoken but not uncomfortable. Neither of them said anything until the plates were empty.
They finished their plates in silence. Then Adrian slowly looked at Alex. "Thanks."
Adrian leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment.
The warmth of the food lingered in his chest, fighting back the cold that had lived in his bones for weeks.
"I forgot what full feels like," he muttered.
Alex didn't say anything, but his gaze softened.
"So, how long has it been?" Adrian asked as he managed to collect himself.
Alex leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger on the empty plate.
"Six... seven months?" he finally said, voice low and uncertain.
Alex's eyes didn't meet Adrian's. Instead, he stared at some distant point in the room, as if trying to piece together memories long buried.
"Longer than I expected," he said after a moment, voice rougher now.
"Things... got complicated."
Adrian nodded slowly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. "Yeah. Life's been... different."
Silence stretched between them again, heavier this time, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that held years of unsaid things.
After a few moments, Adrian decided to get to the point. "I heard you were running with Marcus's crew."
"Yeah, seven months now," Alex replied a bit hesitantly.
After letting it linger for a few moments, "So... I need a job."
Alex looked at him for a few moments. "No, it's too dangerous."
Adrian replied a moment later. "I don't have any other choice, I've been looking for jobs for the last two weeks and there is nothing."
Alex's eyes darkened a bit. "No, we're losing two men each month." His fingers were pressing against his palms. "And not just newbies, even veterans don't survive the crypts."
Adrian's throat tightened. He hadn't been this desperate in months.
He was well aware of the danger he was getting himself into. The crypts were underground tunnels that stretched all over the city, even beyond it too. There were several theories about who built them, but none were definitive.
It was too easy to get lost in them, and if you did, there was no going out. No one managed to map them all, and the smugglers were using the unmapped sections to get goods into the city.
There were too many ways to die in the crypts. Getting lost was the most common. But there were traps, too. And illusions. Hallucinations that lured you deeper into the maze-like tunnels until you never came back. There were a few more things, but he didn't remember them.
He knew the dangers well. That was exactly why he avoided jobs like this. But the pay was good. Good enough to drag you out of the slums if you survived long enough to spend it.
Getting out of the slums wasn't a dream. It was a plan. And he was done waiting.
Alex frowned, his jaw tightening as he studied Adrian's face. He looked like he was about to argue, but something in Adrian's eyes stopped him. That kind of desperation didn't leave room for debate.
After a long pause, Alex exhaled through his nose and looked away. "I'll talk to the boss tomorrow."
Adrian braced himself. He was ready to argue, to dig in and refuse to back down.
But then the words caught up with him.
"I'll talk to the boss tomorrow."
For a second, he just stared at Alex, not quite believing it.
He almost spoke — had the first few words ready — but swallowed them instead.
Then he gave a small nod, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough to breathe. His lips curled up into a small, satisfied smile.
"Thanks", he added after a few moments of silence.
Now he had a way out. He just had to live long enough to take it.