Two Faces, One Confusion

By the time Monday arrived, I had convinced myself that everything was normal again.

Normal meant Adrian texting me every morning like clockwork, normal meant sitting beside him during lunch while he told stories that made everyone laugh, and normal meant not thinking about Ashton Carter at all.

That last part failed almost immediately.

Adrian was already waiting outside my lecture hall when I stepped out.

“Surprise,” he said, pushing himself off the wall with that familiar grin.

“You know you’re not supposed to skip your own class just to pick me up.”

“I didn’t skip it,” he replied smoothly. “I attended briefly.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That is not how education works.”

He shrugged. “I prioritize important things.”

“And I’m an important thing?”

“You’re the most important thing.”

It was said so casually that it should have felt light.

But something about the way he looked at me made my heart soften anyway.

He took my bag without asking and slung it over his shoulder. “Come on. I’ve got food waiting for you.”

“You always have food waiting for me.”

“That’s because you always look like you forget to eat.”

“I do not.”

He raised a brow.

“…Okay, maybe sometimes.”

He laughed and pulled me along.

We ended up at a small café near campus, one of Adrian’s usual spots. The place was quiet, filled with soft music and the smell of coffee and baked bread.

Adrian was in a good mood. He always talked more when he was relaxed like this, leaning back in his chair like the world had no pressure to offer him.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he said between bites.

“I’ve just been tired.”

“That’s a lie.”

I paused. “Excuse me?”

“You only get quiet when you’re thinking too much.”

I stirred my drink slowly. “And what if I am?”

“Then tell me what you’re thinking about.”

I hesitated because the truth felt ridiculous even in my own head.

So I chose something safer.

“School,” I said.

Adrian didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he reached across the table and tapped my hand lightly.

“You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know.”

“But you don’t.”

“That’s not true.”

He smiled slightly. “It kind of is.”

I didn’t answer that.

Instead, I looked past him through the café window.

And of course, that was the exact moment I saw him.

Ashton.

He was outside.

Standing across the street, talking briefly with someone I didn’t recognize. His posture was calm, controlled, like he didn’t belong to the rush of the world around him.

For a second, I forgot to breathe properly.

Then Adrian leaned forward. “What are you looking at?”

I snapped my attention back. “Nothing.”

But my heart had already shifted.

The rest of the day felt off.

Not dramatically. Not in a way anyone else would notice.

Just small interruptions in my focus, like a song playing faintly in another room that I couldn’t fully ignore.

Even during lectures, I found myself spacing out.

And every time I did, my mind did the same thing.

It brought both of them forward.

Adrian’s voice, easy, warm, familiar.

Ashton’s silence, sharp, quiet, uncomfortable in a way I couldn’t define.

Two brothers.

Same face.

Completely different weight.

And somehow, I couldn’t separate them properly anymore.

Later that evening, Adrian insisted we go for a walk around campus.

“You need fresh air,” he said, pulling me along before I could argue.

“I’ve been breathing all day.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

We walked past the sports field, where a few students were practicing under fading daylight. Adrian pointed out something about their technique, but I wasn’t really listening.

Because I saw him again.

Ashton was sitting alone on the bleachers.

No phone. No company. Just stillness.

It was strange how someone could look so present and yet so distant at the same time.

Adrian noticed my silence.

“Don’t start,” he warned.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

I looked away from Ashton quickly. “I wasn’t.”

But Adrian had already followed my gaze.

His expression tightened slightly.

Then it smoothed out again.

“He’s always there,” Adrian said casually.

“That’s because he lives here.”

“You notice him a lot.”

I turned toward him. “So do you.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“He doesn’t matter.”

The way he said it was too final.

Too clean.

Like the conversation had already ended before it began.

I didn’t respond.

But something inside me didn’t accept that answer.

The next day, I saw Ashton alone again.

This time near the library steps.

He was just standing there, reading something on his phone.

But when he looked up and saw me, he didn’t look away immediately.

Neither did I.

It lasted only a few seconds, still enough to feel like something passed between us that didn’t have a name.

Then Adrian called my name from behind.

“Ava.”

I turned instantly.

And when I looked back again, Ashton was already gone.

That evening, I found myself sitting in Adrian’s car outside my house longer than usual.

Neither of us spoke for a moment.

Then Adrian turned slightly toward me.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked.

The question surprised me.

“No,” I said quickly.

“Because it feels like you are.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Then what is it?”

I stared at my hands.

I didn’t know how to answer something I didn’t understand myself.

“I think I’m just stressed,” I said finally.

Adrian studied me for a moment.

Then he reached over and gently touched my cheek.

“You don’t have to carry everything alone,” he said softly.

That should have comforted me.

And part of it did.

But another part of me stayed strangely unsettled.

Because even as he said it, my mind wasn’t fully with him.

It was somewhere else.

Somewhere quieter.

Somewhere colder.

Somewhere that looked like Ashton Carter standing alone in silence, not asking to be noticed.

And the worst part was that I had noticed him anyway.