Chapter 8
They arrived at the hospital, the air thick with silence. Rian walked beside Adrian into Dr. Rolanda's office. The psychiatrist, a calm woman in her forties, glanced at the report in her hands as they both sat down.
"I got your call yesterday," she said, looking briefly at Rian before turning her gaze to Adrian. "How are we feeling today, Mr. Gates?"
Adrian only smiled faintly, avoiding her eyes.
"Mr. Rian, could you please excuse us?" Dr. Rolanda asked gently.
Rian nodded. "Okay." He stood, sparing Adrian one last glance before leaving the office.
Outside, he sank into one of the waiting chairs. His phone buzzed—Vanessa. He answered.
"Hey, how are you?" she asked warmly.
"Fine," he replied, his voice flat.
"You sound stressed. What's wrong?"
Rian hesitated before admitting, "I'm… out of town. I took Adrian to the psychiatrist."
There was silence on the other end. Then Vanessa sighed softly. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said quickly.
Just then, a nurse tapped his shoulder. "The doctor wants to see you."
Rian looked up to see Dr. Rolanda at the doorway. "I feel it's in his best interest to stay here for a while," she said.
Rian's chest tightened, but he nodded. "Okay. If that's what's best."
Inside the office again, Adrian sat with a faraway look in his eyes, staring at nothing.
"Hey," Rian whispered, sitting beside him.
Adrian turned, his smile weak but present.
"The doctor says you have to stay for a while," Rian explained carefully.
Adrian's smile faltered. His fingers twitched nervously.
"I'll come here every day to check on you," Rian promised, reaching out.
Adrian finally looked at him and nodded. "Okay… as long as you come every day." His hand found Rian's, holding it tightly.
Rian pressed his forehead against Adrian's, whispering, "It's going to be fine."
Adrian leaned his head against Rian's shoulder, clinging to the comfort.
The door opened. Dr. Rolanda entered with two nurses. Adrian rose slowly, his grip on Rian's hand lingering until the very last second. His eyes stayed locked on Rian's, as if memorizing his face, before he finally followed the nurses out.
"You'll need to fill out some papers," Dr. Rolanda said.
"Okay," Rian murmured, his voice heavy, as he watched Adrian disappear down the hallway.
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Rian drove through the night, city lights streaking past like ghosts he couldn't outrun. Even after Adrian had fallen asleep at the hospital, his chest had refused to settle.
By the time he reached home, it was already late. The house met him with silence—not the peaceful kind, but the heavy kind that pressed against his ribs.
He dropped his keys on the table and sank onto the couch, shoulders slumping under a weight he couldn't shake.
His gaze drifted to the desk. The picture frame was still there—the one Adrian had insisted on framing. Their first date. Adrian's smile wide, his arm tight around him. Rian's own smile softer, hesitant, but real.
A small curve tugged at his lips before he could stop it. The ache in his chest deepened.
He sighed, long and shaky. Memories slipped in without permission—nights when insomnia clawed at him, when words tangled in his throat and he couldn't breathe. Back then, Adrian had been the one who stayed. The one who listened. The one who anchored him when he thought he would drown.
And now…
Now, staring at that photo, the pull was stronger. Not love. Not peace. But something heavier. A vow that wrapped around his heart like chains.
No matter what happened, no matter how much it burned, he would stay.
He would stay by Adrian's side.
Always.
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Rian must have dozed off on the couch, the framed photo of him and Adrian slipping against his chest.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
His eyes snapped open. He sat up groggily, blinking at the clock. Midnight.
His pulse jumped. Who would be at his door at this hour?
He didn't move at first. Just stood there, staring at the door. "Who's there?"
Silence.
His throat tightened. He grabbed the nearest thing within reach—Adrian's old baseball bat. Holding it like a lifeline, he twisted the lock and opened the door slowly.
And froze.
There, slumped on the doorstep, was Alex.
Head tilted back against the wall, a dark long coat draped over him, as if he'd just stepped out of a boardroom. His tie was loosened, his sharp features shadowed under the dim porch light. But he wasn't awake.
He was… asleep.
Rian's breath caught. A faint scent of alcohol hung around him. He looked composed and powerful even in sleep, yet vulnerable in a way that made Rian's chest twist.
Cold air swept in. Rian shivered. Alex wasn't even covered, his lips faintly pale from the night chill.
"Damn it," Rian muttered under his breath. He should shut the door. Pretend this never happened. But his fingers tightened on the bat instead.
A sigh escaped him. Finally, he crouched down, slid an arm under Alex's shoulder, and dragged him inside.
He half-carried, half-pulled him onto the couch. Alex stirred faintly but didn't wake.
Rian stood there, heart hammering. He hadn't seen Alex this close in years. The same face that once haunted him in dreams, now just inches away.
The silence broke when a phone buzzed in Alex's pocket.
Rian startled, then hesitated before reaching in. The screen lit up with a single name: Ben.
He almost answered—but the call cut off before he could.
Rian stared at the name for a long moment before sliding the phone back into Alex's pocket.
Alex shifted, murmuring something under his breath. A shiver ran through him. He was cold.
Rian exhaled, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Why am I doing this…"
Still, he walked to the bedroom, grabbed a spare blanket, and draped it gently over him.
For a moment, Rian stood frozen, watching Alex's chest rise and fall. His face was calm in sleep, almost peaceful—so different from the boy who had once ruined his life.
Rian turned away quickly, his chest heavy with memories he didn't want to feel.