Adam’s Bedroom, Night | 3rd Person POV
Adam lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.
His room was quiet.
Too quiet.
His heart still felt heavy, like something had wrapped around it and refused to let go.
The practice kept playing in his mind on loop: the moment everything slipped.
The rage.
The violence.
The way his hands had shaken afterward.
Even after everything David had said, doubt still gnawed at the edge of him.
‘She hasn’t seen that side of me before. What if now she sees it every time she looks at me?’
His throat tightened.
‘What if she thinks I’m dangerous? Or worse… just another broken mess she has to tiptoe around?’
That thought chilled him. He felt his mind start to spiral again.
‘What if she backs off? Avoids me altogether? What if I ruin the band just by being like this? What then?’
His phone buzzed in his hand, the vibration slicing through the noise in his head.
His breath caught.
Nickie.
His fingers trembled slightly as he unlocked the screen.
Nickie (11:48 PM): You still alive, Bass Boy? Or did the wall win that fight?
Adam blinked, rereading it twice.
A laugh slipped out, small and startled, and with it… something in his chest loosened.
‘That’s so Nickie.’
His fingers flew.
Adam (11:49 PM): The wall’s tougher than it looks. But I’m alive.
The reply came fast, like she was already waiting.
Nickie (11:49 PM): Well, if you ever want to go two out of three, I’ll hold the timer and referee.
Fair warning: I’m totally biased toward the wall.
Adam smirked, shaking his head. The tension in his chest unraveled a little more with every line.
Adam (11:50 PM): Thanks for the vote of confidence. Real supportive.
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Nickie (11:52 PM): Anytime, tough guy.
He could almost hear her voice through the screen: teasing, but warm.
The kind of warmth that didn’t ask questions.
That just stayed.
‘She’s not avoiding me.
She’s still here.’
***
On the other side of the chat, Nickie lay in bed, one hand curled around her phone, the other tucked under her cheek.
Her mind drifted.
Not just to earlier, but to the way Adam sometimes went quiet.
Not the usual moody-artist kind of quiet.
This was something else.
Like his thoughts had turned to stone and dragged him somewhere far away.
Then she thought of that moment when David had to hold him… really hold him… to stop him from hurting himself.
Adam hadn’t fought back, just collapsed into it, trembling like something was breaking open inside him.
His eyes… God.
She still remembered the way they had glistened.
Not angry tears. Not performative.
Just raw, quiet pain, too deep to scream.
And when he finally spoke, said I’m sorry… his voice had cracked so sharply she felt it in her bones.
Now, even thinking about it, something pulled at her chest. Heavy. Helpless.
She hated it.
How much pain he was carrying, how much he tried to bury under silence and sarcasm.
‘I want to help,’ she thought, her hand tightening slightly around the phone.
‘I want to pull him out of that place, even just a little.’
But she also knew this wasn’t something she could fix with a joke or a hug.
So instead, she stayed.
Present.
Patient.
Waiting for the day he’d trust her enough to let her in fully.
***
Nickie (11:54 PM): Aren’t you going to sleep? You’ll terrify the poor wall again tomorrow if you don’t.
Adam smiled, thumb hovering over the keyboard for a second before responding.
Adam (11:55 PM): Sleep’s overrated. But yeah… I’ll try.
Nickie (11:56 PM): Sleep, Bass Boy. Your sarcasm level needs recharging.
Adam stared at the screen.
It was nothing. Just a few dumb messages.
But somehow, they were everything.
He didn’t reply.
Just let the silence stretch, thumb hovering over the screen, heart a little steadier.
‘I needed that.’
***
From that night on, Adam stopped looking for excuses to text her.
He just did it.
Whenever he felt like it.
Because now, he knew… She wouldn’t go anywhere.
