Chapter 10 – Inside Without Knocking

Adrian didn’t sleep that night.

He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the faint streetlight glow cutting pale shapes across his room. Every time he closed his eyes, Evan’s voice whispered in the darkness: You’ve been waiting for this.

By morning, exhaustion had settled into his bones like lead, but there was no relief. His apartment felt different now. Not unsafe, exactly—just… permeable. Like the walls and locks didn’t mean much anymore.

He made coffee and sat by the kitchen window, staring down at the street. Rain had given way to an overcast stillness, the kind that made the air heavy.

He told himself he would forget it. That Evan was just a strange encounter, someone who got too close. People like that moved on quickly. He just had to wait him out.

But waiting did nothing.

By late afternoon, the air inside felt stifling. Adrian left his apartment for a walk, anything to keep from imagining footsteps outside his door. He took side streets and cut through the park, his hood up, hands in his pockets.

The world was normal. People laughed, dogs barked, traffic hummed. No one followed him. No one watched.

For a moment, he almost convinced himself Evan was gone.

When he returned, the front door was locked. No sign of anything disturbed. He stepped inside, kicked off his shoes, and headed for the kitchen—

—and froze.

The smell hit him first. Something faint but deliberate: leather and cedarwood. Not his. Not his detergent, not his cologne, not anything he owned.

Then he saw it.

A single coffee mug on the counter. Clean, but turned upside down to dry. He hadn’t left it that way. He was sure.

His heartbeat roared in his ears.

“Evan?” His voice cracked on the name, half-expecting silence, half-praying for it.

But from the living room came a low, calm reply.

“Hello, Adrian.”

He turned slowly.

Evan was there. Sitting on the couch like he belonged, his legs stretched out, his fingers idly tracing the seam of the cushion. He wore a black button-down rolled to the elbows, collar open just enough to reveal the sharp line of his collarbone. His eyes tracked Adrian with unhurried precision.

“You—” Adrian’s throat felt tight. “You broke in.”

“I let myself in,” Evan said easily. “Your lock isn’t complicated.”

“That’s breaking in,” Adrian snapped, trying to push the fear down under anger.

“Labels,” Evan said, rising smoothly to his feet. “They don’t change the truth.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I’m here,” Evan said simply, stepping closer.

Adrian took a step back. “You can’t just—show up like this. You can’t—”

“I can,” Evan interrupted, his tone still maddeningly calm. “And I will.”

“You’re insane,” Adrian said, but the words came out weaker than he intended.

“Maybe.” Evan stopped just short of touching him. “Or maybe I just know what I want.”

Adrian’s pulse was a drumbeat in his ears. “And what’s that?”

“You.”

The word was soft, but it landed with the weight of a confession.

Adrian’s chest tightened. He should push him away. Should tell him to get out. But Evan’s presence was magnetic, the air between them charged like static before lightning.

“You can’t—”

“I can,” Evan said again, stepping even closer until Adrian could feel the warmth of his breath. “And I already have.”

Adrian swallowed hard. “You don’t know me.”

Evan’s gaze didn’t waver. “I know the way you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re thinking. I know you always overfill your coffee by a little, like you don’t mind the spill. I know you sleep with the window cracked, even when it’s cold. And I know—” He leaned in, his voice lowering to a murmur. “—that no one else notices those things.”

Adrian’s mind screamed at him to shove Evan away, but his body betrayed him, rooted to the spot.

“I notice you,” Evan finished, his tone soft but certain.

Adrian’s voice shook. “Get out.”

Evan searched his face for a long moment, then tilted his head slightly. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Adrian lied.

Something flickered in Evan’s eyes — not anger, but a quiet, knowing amusement. “Alright,” he said finally, stepping back. “For now.”

Adrian’s lungs filled with air again, but the relief was short-lived. Evan walked toward the door with that same deliberate calm, pausing with his hand on the knob.

“Oh, and Adrian?” he said without turning around. “Next time, don’t bother locking it. I’d rather not waste time.”

The door closed behind him, the echo lingering like a shadow in the room.

Adrian stood there for a long moment, shaking. The apartment felt even smaller now, every corner holding the memory of Evan’s presence.

He sat heavily on the couch — Evan’s seat still faintly warm — and buried his face in his hands.

He should call the police. Should change the locks. Should do something.

But deep down, a darker, quieter truth wound its way through his fear:

He wasn’t sure he wanted Evan gone.