LOST SOULS!
CHAPTER TEN.
i'm done.

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LYDIA MARTIN HAD TO ASSURE HER YOUNGER BROTHER THE WHOLE JOURNEY BACK HOME THAT THEIR MOTHER WAS OUT FOR THE MAJORITY OF THE NIGHT, THE REDHEAD STATING HE WOULDN'T STEP ANYWHERE NEAR THE HOUSEHOLD IF SHE WAS IN UPON ARRIVAL. The two siblings both knew that the boy had nowhere to go if she did happen to be in, but the pair also knew that Adrian Martin would find a way somehow to avoid her; whether that way is sensible or not.
Thankfully, for both the redheads and the safety of the public, the boy's needs were met, managing to cocoon himself successfully inside of his own room while ignoring everything outside as if it were the plague.

Scott McCall tried his absolute hardest to keep the Martin boy in on the loop with everything that had been happening, hoping having a Necromancer on his team would help with this whole 'healers getting taken' type of ordeal that they had recently uncovered. However, the young boy had no interest in partaking in such events, saying - and I quote. "I'm a Necromancer, dude. I'm pretty much the exact opposite of what you would need in this type of hell field."

Scott took the answer and didn't push him, but the werewolf had a feeling that wasn't the main reason at all. It didn't take much inspecting to see all the signs. He had seen how off Stiles and Adrian had been for the last few days since getting back from the motel; even without his werewolf senses.

They had not spoken since then, both boys shutting down their mutual group of friends' attempts at getting them to at least exchange a sentence to one another. The mere attempt was useless. It was completely radio silent between them, and the only two people who could fix it would have to be themselves on their own.

The young couple had common sense - though that may be hard to believe right now. They both knew they couldn't avoid one another forever, but both were dreading the awaiting talk they needed to have (not that they've voiced this thought though, of course).

Stiles and Adrian were each other's first real relationship, meaning this stage they were currently in was completely new to them. They didn't shut a blind eye to this aspect of a relationship, they knew there would come a time when things like this would occur - that's just the way these type of things work . . . but having your first one was always the worst; and having the first one with a boy like Adrian Martin didn't help anyone's case: including Adrian's.

He was just too stubborn for his own good, but maybe the ones who choose to be stubborn over reasonable create the most pain and heartache for themselves. Deep down, the boys both wanted to apologise. They wanted to get whatever this was out of the way, so they could just go back to being Stiles and Adrian, and deal with everything else later; but, let's face it, when have things ever worked out that easily between the two?

The said redhead had spent most of his days back from the failed cross-country meet ditching his classes, running off to wallow in his own self-pity. He hung out with his friends on the lacrosse team some nights - mainly agreeing so he would have an excuse not to talk to his own mother, who was finally back to being home normal time - but even his friends could read him like a book in a foreign language you took a few classes for: understanding some parts, but never knowing the full story.

"Hey, Martin!" One boy from the team, Trevor, came over to him one night when their mutual group of friends invited him to a house party; most of the lacrosse boys lounging around on the sofa. Adrian didn't really feel in the mood for talking, content with just having some watered down alcohol and leaving in the early morning hours the next day, but nodded his head as a sign for him to continue for the sake of acknowledgement. "What's got your panties in a twist? None of the girls coming up to you?"

"Actually," It was one of Adrian's close lacrosse friends, Carl, who answered the boy's question. He pointed over to a group of girls giggling to themselves in the corner by the staircase, sneaking a sly glance at the group of laid back boys. "Tabitha has been eyeing Adrian here up the whole night. When did you guys break up again? A month ago?"

In response, Trevor's grip on his red solo cup tightened; his eyes shifting from stare to glare whilst Adrian remained unaffected, drinking his beverage as if nothing was happening around him. "A month and a half actually." He spat back in a low correction, the two boys on the sofa unfazed by his comeback. Trevor then turned to Adrian, pointing a threatening finger at him. "If you even think about laying a hand on her I -"

"Relax, dude. Adrian hasn't even given her a second glance." Carl reassured the boy for the sake of things, turning to the mentioned redhead for his opinion only to see him checking his phone for what felt like the twentieth time that night. His smirk widens. "Plus, it seems as though our boy here is already linked up with a girl; having trouble in paradise."

Those words are finally what caused Adrian to raise his head up from the electronic device to the fellow lacrosse players, his face scrunched up. "What?" He grumbled, huffing as he tucked his phone away to pay more attention; the heat from its high usage warming his pocket. At this point, he just wanted to leave. Braving his mother was worth it.

"Oh, come on, Adrian." Carl rolled his brown eyes with surety shining behind them, his hand raising to count on his fingers. "The ditching, the lack of time to hang out, the constant checking of the phone; you've got yourself a girl." He concluded, pausing to take a sly sip of his drink. "And she's got you wrapped around her little finger."

"I'm not wrapped around anyone's finger." Adrian bitterly mumbled as he copied the action of taking a drink; purposely taking a huge gulp in hopes of finishing his cup quicker, so that he would have an excuse to get up and leave the house, undetected. Yep. Seeing his mother definitely beats this.

Carl didn't even give the teen the satisfaction of causing him to switch facial expressions from his words as he swirled the subtle-tasting liquid in his cup around. Trevor, however, rolled his eyes in disbelief at the boy's statement. "Oh, come on! You're totally whipped, dude! You've gone soft! You've lost your edge!"

Lost your edge. There it was again. The words peeked the young Martin's interest, the words acting as an electric shock for his body language to switch on and be more engaged in the exchange now. His eyebrow bent curiously. "Lost my edge?" He asked slowly.

"He does have a point there, Adrian." Carl agreed - much to his surprise, turning to the redhead as if he were disappointed in him. "Ever since you started ditching us when coming back from summer break, you haven't really been, I don't know, the Adrian Martin we're used to seeing."

"Piss off." Adrian felt like throwing up on the boy with his emphasised words of baloney, rolling his green eyes with the intention of standing up only for Trevor to cut in at a lightning-fast pace; reeling him back in.

"He's speaking straight up facts! I mean, you nearly got suspended for severely beating up those guys on the team that were about to spray paint over that weirdo Stilinski's jeep!" The boy raised his voice, making the Martin teen's gaze harden and his grip on his red solo cup tighten. "You used to be all in for those things back in the day!" Furthermore, Trevor then fluttered his lashes and pouted; speaking in a mocking, high-pitched manner that would grind anyone's gears. "Did your girlfriend say no, or else you won't be getting laid?"

The limit was pushed for Adrian as he stood up from his spot; Trevor doing the same. Their chests were inches apart as they stood tall in front of one another; the taller, redheaded boy of the pair speaking first with a clenched tone of hatred. "Why don't we see if I've truly lost my edge, Trevor. Why don't we test it out right now!" He barked his last few words to display power, his voice causing people in the room to advert their eyes from what they were currently doing to spectate.

There was a twinge of fear behind Trevor's eyes as he stared deeply into the furious, fired up orbs of the lacrosse player many guys on the team warned him not to mess with when he first joined. He didn't really get the warning then . . . but he was beginning to know now. "I -"

"What? Too scared?" Adrian challenged, getting closer to the boy; who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but near him. The Martin boy found solace in his fear, drowning in the feeling of euphoria that swam through his body. He let out a dark chuckle. "I can assure you that I don't need to be wrapped around anyone's finger to kick your -"

"Adrian!" A familiar call came over the beginning of a forming crowd, Isaac Lahey shoving his way to the front and dragging the young player away from his target. "Come on, we're leaving." Was all he said before he began to steer the fuming redhead away from the conjured scene, the boy in his hold muttering incoherent curses as he followed reluctantly.

It was supposed to just end there, but I guess having Adrian no longer up in his face gave Trevor a boost of irreversible confidence. "Yeah, that's right! Go back to your girlfriend! I'm sure she's waiting for you back home all nice and cozy with her legs spre -"

A strong fist bashed into Trevor's face, cutting him off as the force of the hit knocked him to the ground with a hard thud, everyone gathered making sounds of pain for him. The young lacrosse player rolled on the ground and held his face in his hands out of pure agony as Adrian Martin stood above him, shaking his stinging fist to rid of the pain quicker whilst he glared daggers at the boy. "How's that for someone who's gone "soft", huh?" He then directed his eyes to sweep across everyone in the room, most students backing down from his gaze. "Anyone else have any opinions of me they would like to share? Step on up!"

"Okay, let's get you home." Isaac sighed, patting his shoulder when all was silent in the once upbeat, loud party. No one spoke. No one even moved. Isaac dragged the redhead by his jacket until they were outside the host's house; hearing the music start up again. Once out, the two boys began to walk down the street in a thick silence; their houses thankfully not that far away from their current location. "If you need time to cool down, you can always come over. Scott wouldn't mind. He's been trying his best to get you to come over for a while now." The Lahey boy offered considerably, his werewolf senses getting all the angered signals from the boy.

"Yeah, and why do you think that is?" Adrian grumbled with dead, emotionless eyes; his shoes skidding along the path as he made small kicks at nothing with the inability to raise his head up from the ground. He tried to shift his focus on the gravel path beneath him, hoping his brain would suddenly take a liking to rocks rather than Trevor's hateful comment.

Isaac understood what the Martin was insinuating, exhaling through his failed attempt as he shook his head and turned to the redhead. "You know he just wants you two to make up, right? He needs both of you if he's to figure out what on earth is happening around this town."

"No, he doesn't." Adrian denies, looking up at the starry, night sky amongst them before he turned his head to the teen beside him; giving him a tight-lipped smile that didn't read as anything positive. "Scott and Stiles will do just fine without me. They did once before."

"So are you just going to keep ignoring them?" Isaac grilled as tucked his hands into his coat pocket, his dark-blue scarf blowing in the light wind created ever so gently. It was like the calm before the storm.

"No, obviously not but . . ." Adrian trailed off, knowing what he wanted to say yet not having the courage to actually come out and say it. He thought back to Trevor and Ethan's words, the memories making him seal his lips for good.

Whether he knew the full story or not, Isaac partly understood his silence; nodding to himself. They then reached the point where they would go their separate ways to get to their respected households, slowing down and turning to one another for a parting goodbye. Much to Adrian's surprise, Isaac gave him a smile of friendliness. "Try not to punch anyone else tonight, Martin." He half-joked, the thought of it actually happening not yet lost on him.

The joke helped break the ice between them as Adrian's lips quirked up with a small breath of laughter escaping him. Looking up at the boy with a mischievous glint in his green orbs, the young teen could feel the corners of his mouth lift up. "No promises, Lahey." He then licked his lips, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "Thanks, I guess, for pulling me away from Trevor."

Isaac hummed in reply, pretending to be thinking as he tilted his head. "Well, given that Trevor doesn't have the handsomest face on the team, I wasn't exactly keen on having to look at his beaten, bruised and bloody face all throughout practice after Adrian Martin did some of his famous work on him." Small laughs were released from the two of them as a silence soon dived in to fill the blanks; leaving Lahey to give Martin a sympathetic smile. "Goodnight, Adrian. I hope things turn out okay between you and Stiles - and I mean that genuinely."

Adrian gave the dirty-blonde the best smile of kindness he could muster. At that moment, feeling as though a gigantic weight was pressing against his chest at the thought of the hazel-eyed, sarcastic boy who he knew he needed to talk to soon.

"Thanks, Isaac."

❚ ❚ ❚

Adrian let out a tired huff as he passed the road sign indicating he was nearing his house, reaching into his jean pocket to dig out his house keys just in case no one was in - which he hoped desperately was the case. After the party and what had just occurred, the young boy wasn't in the talking mood understandably. Sure, he talked to Isaac, but that was really all the company he could handle right now.

Adrian was just walking up the driveway when his feet suddenly halted, his old trainers making a skidding noise along the concrete as he did so. His hand paused as they held the jingling keys ready to unlock the door, his green eyes widening in surprise at who was currently in front of his house.

Stiles Stilinski was muttering like a madman to himself as he paced in front of the Martin household by the door, seeming to be giving himself a pep talk of sorts as his hands fidgeted in front of him. He didn't notice the approaching teen, his hand raising to hover over the doorbell for a short while before ultimately going back down to his side again.

Adrian watched him for a lingering moment, not quite knowing what to do as he shifted on the balls of his feet. Eventually, he decided enough was enough. "Stiles?" The boy questioned as he tilted his head, knowing it was his boyfriend. He was just confused as to why he was here right now . . . and what it could mean for him.

Stiles let out a startled cry, his head swiftly turning in the direction of the confused teen; who watched with a frown as the sarcastic boy stumbled back a few steps. His hazel eyes were wide as he breathed out. "Adrian, I - I was just about to ring the doorbell." He stumbled over his words of explanation, sheepishly gesturing to said item after calming down from the unforeseen company.

"Oh . . . alright." Adrian nodded in reply, the two boys biting at their lips to wade through the thick silence that followed the redhead back from the party before he chose to speak again. "Do . . . Do you want to come in?"

"Um, actually, no thanks. Outside is just fine." Stiles shut down the offer, unable to even look at the boy as he fiddled with his own fingers. Eventually, after the heavy burden of silence came to settle in on their chests, the hazel-eyed teen looked up with a sigh. "I just wanted to come here and talk about what happened between us at Glen Capri? And the things that were said?" He reminded, the two of them feeling their stomachs twist from the memory of their last interaction.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, yeah." Adrian nodded in agreement, shifting his weight onto each foot as he awaited for the boy to speak; anticipating what was to come.

"I know a lot of things were said between us; things that I'm sure both of us didn't mean." Stiles started, treading slowly and carefully with his words as his eyes seemed to be in tune with his mind. Once again, the Stilinski boy looked to the ground. "I feel really guilty, you know? About accusing you of all that stuff." He finished in a guilt-lined mumble, his adverted gaze showing a sign of shame.

"Do you still think I did it?" Adrian questions earnestly, his eyebrows uplifting at his own words as he awaited an answer. There was a tremble - possibly hurt - to his voice. Albeit, it was discreet, so there was a high chance the boy across from him could've missed it; but Adrian heard it loud and clear. Weak. His inner thoughts abashed him. You're so weak.

"No! No, of course not. I never did truly believe it in the first place. I was just -" Stiles stopped to let out a deep exhale, as if his theory and how idiotic it was just fully dawned on him now. "I was just stupid."

"Yeah, you were being pretty stupid that night." As the Martin boy agreed, the Stilinski boy gave him a short glare before continuing.

"Okay, yeah, I know. You weren't exactly winning any awards either though." The young couple stared into each other's eyes for a while before a sigh from Stiles picked the words back up again. "Look, I came here to hopefully fix things between us. I don't want things to be awkward - especially now. We need each other."

Adrian Martin's instincts kicked in as he scoffed, shaking his head as he looked away for a split second. When his eyes return, Stiles was giving him a watchful look. "What?"

"You scoffed. Why did you scoff?" Stiles wondered, tilting his head curiously as he squinted his eyes. He takes a few steps closer to the redhead, his hand raised to point at the teen in indication for his scoff. "What? Am I wrong? We don't need each other?"

"I don't need anyone, Stiles." Adrian rolls his forest-green eyes, his lips weakly quirking up at even the mere thought of him needing anyone other than himself in his life. He went to say more, but Stiles interrupted him.

"See! That's the problem!" The Stilinski boy went in hard, his words louder than before; almost coming off as an echo in the dead of night. "In a relationship, people need each other, Adrian! And I sure as hell know that I need you, but I never quite know with you!"

Adrian remained mute as the boy's words whipped off his own emotions and into his skin, his only response being blinks. His face told no tales, every inch and crevice remaining as still as stone with no reaction in sight. The only thing the Stilinski boy got was a lick of the lips and a call of his name. "Stiles,"

"I - I need to be sure in a relationship, Adrian. And, right now, I'm - I'm not sure. Heck, sometimes I'm not even sure if you're in love with me!" Stiles exasperated, his arms wide in emphasis. Then, he stopped. His whole face dropped into a solemn sadness as his head bowed in question gently. ". . . Are you?"

"What?" Adrian's mind refused to catch up with the topic, blinking being the only thing his body was functioning on. Maybe it was because his mind knew where things were headed, and didn't want to think and push it.

"Are you in love with me?!" Stiles shouted in a voice that was wedged with hurt other than anger, pointing to himself as the darkened night sky caught his breath in the flowing wind.

"What type of stupid question even is that?" Adrian huffed as his eyes rolled once more, bringing his voice to a louder octave this time to match the boy standing not so far away from him. "Yes! I am!"

"Well then, say it!" Stiles bellowed, the thought of anyone overhearing not even entering his mind. Right now, all that filled his inner thoughts was the sad cloud of doubt as he watched the boy fumble as if the words were foreign to him. His reaction caused the Stilinski's face to shatter into a million pieces, his voice cracking as he lamented. "Say you love me."

Adrian's mouth was opened to speak, but soon found his own cord of memory silencing him. All the words, the doubts, the attacks he had to endure; it all came mounting up on him until only one sentence remained.

You lost your edge a long time ago.

"I . . . I know what you're trying to do," Adrian spoke lowly to his boyfriend, licking his lips in an agitated manner as he glanced away before glancing back to him; a look of edging anxiety set on his face. "And I'm not going to do it."

"What?" It was Stiles' turn to be confused now, his own hazel-eyes being covered with quick blinks as his face remained at a fallen lost. "What am I trying to do?"

"To - To get me to be this lovesick boyfriend who does all that romantic crap like hold your hand in public, or take you out to the movies with your favourite snacks in hand, and then wake you up with breakfast in bed later as we kiss whenever during the day!" Adrian explained, rushed as he waved his hands around much like the boy across from him would. A learned habit, I suppose. "I won't do it!"

"Adrian, I'm not asking you too!" Stiles defended, their conversation way past the use of inside voices as their breaths became small wisps in the wind only to soon evaporate. "I'm just asking for you to actually show me that this relationship isn't one-sided! You push me away like I'm nothing when we're out in the public eye! You don't need to kiss me - I just need to know that you care!"

"I'm not some soft, love-sick puppy, Stilinski!" Adrian rammed his hands through his ginger locks to hold onto something, his thinking process beginning to make his head thump. "I don't need to smother you every second of every day just to get my affections across! It's your own damn mind's fault if you think differently!"

"But can you blame me?" Stiles inquires, pointing to his chest as his eyes look to be only increasing in the level of sadness they held. "We're supposed to be comfortable in a relationship; not scared! Yet you're too scared to even give me a second glance when we're not alone."

"I'm not scared of anything, Stiles!" Adrian's voice reached its peak, his words like a lions' roar as he approached the boy swiftly; their chests almost touching. Almost. "I'm just tired of you weighing me down constantly! Dammit! I don't feel like myself anymore!"

That was a blatant lie. Despite everything that happened/is happening to him with his family and the supernatural; Adrian still felt like himself around Stiles. At least, that's what he always believed. But maybe the Adrian Trevor and Carl knew was different, or maybe it was the same, or maybe it was another part of him. The Martin boy just didn't know. It was hard to draw a line that you couldn't see.

Meanwhile, Stiles was breaking. His face fell like the way a waterfall's thunderous stream would hit the calm waters that lied beneath; disturbing all piece - even if it was just a little - that was previously there. His eyes seemed to dampen as if the fire behind them had been doused out, no longer sporting its lightened look of hope as his lips of cupid shape came to a tremble. "Is that what you really believe?" His voice was weak, like the words spoken to him were a physical punch to the throat. Adrian had to look away. "You think I'm changing you?"

"Ye - Yes." The mumble of a reply took its time to become verbal, leaving it to hang out in the open night sky for a while for good measure. To be fair, his answer reigned true. Stiles did change him, he just wasn't sure if it was for better or for worse. He liked to tell himself now - at this moment - that it was for the latter . . . but not even Adrian could convince himself of such a thing entirely. "And I want it to stop."

"O - Okay." Stiles' voice wavered, his teeth appearing to be chattering as if that new, added addition would help weaken the tremble in his lips whilst he sought for answers. "Okay. We can work this out. Maybe we could -"

"No." Adrian didn't have the heart to listen. And by that, I mean his heart was so numb that it didn't feel in existence enough to listen. He knew his body was doing him a favour. The idea would only give his mind another topic to ponder. And right now, the Martin boy welcomed the feeling of numbness to possess his body much like it had back when he was out of town for Toby's funeral. Hurt was all that resided then - and hurt was all that could be felt now. "No, I'm done."

"Done?" Stiles whispered, his face resembling that of a kicked puppy as he took a few steps closer to the boy with his hand flapping in the act of releasing some anxiety from his body. "Done? What do you mean you're done?"

"It means I'm done. I'm done with all this. My family, the supernatural, Scott, our friends, Toby, . . . you." Adrian held up with his firm tone, feeling his body ache with how much effort he was using to keep his voice straight. "I'm done."

"You - You can't be done." Stiles tried to blink the tears that had gathered in his reddened eyes back, the act unable to lock them out of his skin as they dribbled down his cold-nipped cheeks. "Scott - Scott needs us right now. I - I need you." He sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand quickly. "We aren't something that you can just drop - not with everything that's been going on."

"I'm dropping you all because of everything that's been going on." Adrian emphasised, his walls building one stack higher as he scoffed bitterly. It wasn't at Stiles though - it was more so at the situation that had randomly been placed on him these past few months. "I mean, you can't argue with me here, Stiles. Associating with you and Scott is like being on death row! You just never know when your time is coming and then, before you know it, you're gone!"

"Which is why all of us need to stick together!" Stiles' voice cried out with plead, sounding more distressed than sad this time as his gaze hardened at the boy who wasn't even batting an eyelash at his fracturing state - not on the outside, at least. "This isn't some game where you can just quit when things get tough, Adrian!"

"I'm not quitting." Admittedly, Stiles' last words had sparked a root of vexation within Adrian as he gritted his teeth; giving the boy a pointed look. "There comes a time when you need to realise things are out of your control, and the best thing to do is walk away." He stated, the Stilinski boy giving him a look of disbelief. "If you value your own life, Stiles, I suggest you do the same thing . . . please."

"No. I won't." But the boy wouldn't back down. He didn't need to think long and hard for his answer. Stiles knew leaving Scott to deal with this all by himself was out of the question. He just wished the redhead standing across from him thought the same. "Scott's my best friend. I care about him." Raising his head, he looked Adrian Martin dead in the eye; as if he was trying to see through to his heart. "That's what you do for people you care about. You don't walk away - even if it means putting yourself at risk."

Adrian could tell what he was doing. The eyes showed all the signs he needed to figure it out. He was being thrown a bone, one that was supposed to lure him back where the current issues were open for being sorted out. But sadly, Adrian Martin was done playing fetch.

"Goodnight, Stiles."

The young Martin didn't take another glance as he fished out his keys, the jingling being the only sound offered as he bounded up the small steps and aimed the right key for the lock. He inserted them, going to twist until a voice spoke.

"I love you." Adrian stilled, his hand holding the key in the lock still waiting to be turned tightening. He didn't turn around to face the boy, who was tensely waiting for a reply. When nothing came back, he continued. "If you don't say it back, that's fine, but we're done if you don't." A beat of silence swallowed the pair of them. "Because I don't think I have it in me to say it to you again - not when I know I'll forever be wondering if I love someone who doesn't even feel the same."

Adrian's heart felt like it was tugging at his organs, as if trying to shake him to respond, to say the three words back with such passion in a voice he yearned to say it with. The Martin boy's eyesight grew blurry, his eyes postponing him from turning the key and entering the house. Adrian could feel his throat build up with the possible chance of cries and sobs, and he had never felt so dumb.

Everyone was right . . . he really had lost his edge.

Which is why, with a heavy heart, Adrian Martin wordlessly turned the key, unlocked the door, stepped inside his house . . . and slammed the door; leaving Stiles Stilinski on the other side of it.

He absolutely detested the thought of leaning against the door he had closed like some teenage girl in a romance movie, choosing to keep his head held high as he strode forward to enter the kitchen instead. The cabinet containing all the drinks was swung open harshly with a force threatening to rip it off its hinges, a random bottle of alcohol being grabbed and popped open without a second thought.

The liquid was warm and bitter on his tongue; the taste not as intoxicating as it had been before, his body seeming to be making an attempt to tell him that they didn't want any effects the bottle brought on. Right now, they wanted the pain to be felt.

Adrian ignored it, his saliva soaking the glass rim as he brought it to his lips to take as many swings as he possibly could. He didn't manage much, however, for, mid-gulp, his body raked in a sob. The action caused him to slam the bottle down on the kitchen counter in indignation, thankfully not breaking it despite the loud noise it made.

The Martin boy doubled over and sobbed, his palms flat on the counter to steady himself as his cheeks heated with the salty lines of water that leaked from his darkened green eyes. Adrian used one hand to wipe furiously at his face, slapping it continuously in hopes his body would get the message to stop; but it didn't. Even his heart wasn't on his side, aching with a pain that caused a deep cry out of him.

"Adrian? Adrian, honey?" Mrs. Martin was making her way down the stairs as soon as she heard the door slam, her heels providing a struggle with her hurried rush of adrenaline. She rushed through to the kitchen where she found her son crying, an open bottle of alcohol from the drinks cabinet in front of his emotional state. Her eyes displayed worry as she approached him carefully, reaching out to gently caress his arm. "Adrian, what's wrong?"

Not wanting to be touched, the teenager shrugged the arm off of him. The burn of the fingertips still remained. He looked up, a blurry silhouette of his mother slowly coming into focus with the more time he spent staring brokenly at her. "Did you leave Frank because you knew you had to, or did you just not love him anymore?"

Natalie's mood deflated at her son's comment, connecting the way his own heart was tied with that question. Her irises fell into a form of understanding, the boy's pain making her heart ache - but not as painful as his currently was. "Oh, Adrian . . . I'm so sor -"

"Don't." Adrian shook his head, stopping the moment before it could even begin. He didn't want to have a heartfelt conversation with anyone - not even his own mother. A distraction was what he really desired; and if he couldn't have the bitterness of alcohol . . . then he would have his dad; his real one. "Just tell me the truth for once." He silently begged as a last resort, both needing answers and the path it would pave for his mind to travel down on.

"Frank, well, . . . Frank was unlike any man I've ever met in my life, Adrian - in both good and bad ways, I guess. He was so loving to me, even when he found out about Lydia. Having another child didn't hinder our relationship - for he had one too." Natalie chose her words carefully, her head nodding along with every syllable her thin, pink lips spoke as if it coated them with a magical liquid that could keep her truths at bay.

"I know. He was mentioned in one of the letters I read. What was his name again? Steve?" Adrian mused, his tone dull with no emotion. He did care to know the information, but - had it not been for his furrowed brows of wonder - no one would've been able to snag even a guess.

"Seth." His mother corrected, nodding as she looked down to the kitchen floor. "Nice boy." She observed, her lips lifting in a fond smile lined with present sadness. "He was only two when you were born. He'd been so eager to hold you."

Adrian was hesitant to learn more. It did hurt to learn about his past now of all times, but he knew that he would be too stubborn to ask the woman next to him later when the tears had dried up and all that remained was his displeasure for crying in the first place. "Why did you never let me meet them? When I could remember?"

"Like I said, Adrian, Frank had a different side to him. He never did anything to physically hurt us - but he was . . . I don't know how to put it," Natalie mumbled. "Dangerous?" It came out more so of a question rather than a reply, the word sounding remote to her tongue.

Adrian's hearing suddenly become a lot more in tune, like his ears had just magically learned to perk up at the word. He turned to his mother, his voice on the verge of inaudible speaking. "Dangerous? W - What do you mean?"

Natalie Martin looked too uncomfortable to answer, not that her son really cared at that moment. He wasn't going to back down and the two of them both knew that. So she answered. "Well, he was so . . . secretive? At the beginning, he was amazing with Seth, loved Lydia like his own, and was so happy when you were born . . . but he just got so obsessed with his work." A choked sob was caught in the back of her throat, her hand gently going up to caress her neck. "I feared for his sanity. He just - He just wasn't the same man anymore."

Adrian watched her crumble, his eyes showing a certain level of sympathy for his mother. He didn't move to console her (mainly because he feared that doing so would only cause him to break too) but he watched her with fingers aching to wrap around her frame and hold her, because he knew they were - right now - in the same boat: crying over people who they love yet still lost.

"What did he work as?" Adrian's voice was soft, yet still croaky from his previous crying. His throat hurt, the small sip of strong alcohol soaking up one payback of a burn in the back of his throat. He knew a glass of water would do him good right about now, but he too caught up in this current conversation to do anything about it. Screw water.

Natalie pursed her lips, taking a gulp of imaginary liquid as if that would make the words flow out any easier. It didn't, but she still managed. "He worked - well, still works - as a nurse in - "

Adrian didn't hear the start of his mother's next to last words as he straightened up to his feet, almost hitting the cupboard as he did so. His green eyes displayed wild panic, a gnawing feeling becoming present in his stomach. This was bad. "What? A nurse?!" His mind echoed Scott's voice in his head, the werewolf telling him about the target that those of whom work in a healing profession have on their backs. Anyone could be taken . . . including Frank. "Where can I find him?"

Natalie, understandably taken aback by the question, fumbled as she gathered herself to her own two feet. She blinked at her son in confusion, now standing in front of him with the added weight of her heels. "What? Adrian, maybe it's best if we talk about this in the morning when -" Her motherly instincts kicked in as she used her reasoning voice, but that was shot down quickly.

"Mum," Adrian held up a hand, exhaling through his nostrils with a stressed out look. "Trust me when I say that I need to do this. I've already yelled at one person I care about today, I'm not too fond on the idea of doing it to another." He sighed, dropping his hand and making sure his voice was more calm and collected. It was pretty convincing given that the boy felt like his insides were currently turning upside down. "Now, where can I find Frank?"

He said every word with vigilant emphasis, his mother needing to latch and hang onto every word. If he didn't do something, Adrian knew he would only go back to the bottle he had left on the kitchen counter. He was done feeling useless. Tonight, he'd flip off the world with his middle finger and go see his real dad; whether the outcome is dangerous or not.

He had his mind set, and Natalie knew that. She could see it in his eyes. It was the Martin look; one that proved there was no negotiating. Plus, she could see the heartbreak still residing in her son's eyes. It was a look that she had never seen on him before, and she knew she couldn't let him suffer any more tonight.

Adrian needed to do this. He didn't need this day to end in success or joy, but he most definitely needed the day to end up fine, in the very least.

Please, just take me back to the time when things were fine. Please. Adrian Martin thought as he hastened out of his house once more, his eyes stealing a glance at where a baby-blue jeep was once parked not that long ago; its tire tracks the only proof it was even there in the first place. Let this life be fine again.

A U T H O R. N O T E
hate me and adrian right now? me too.
sorry, i haven't been updating lately. i can't even really use the "i've been busy" excuse because it's honestly just me and the writing and reading block i'm in right now. thank you for being patient though and not pushing me for updates, that really means a lot more than you guys will ever know.

also, i have never put a disclaimer up, so i would just like to say please don't drink underage. you're putting yourself and others at risk and i strongly advise you think about how much you consume even when you're of legible age. i don't write these scenes to make drinking look "cool" or "edgy" because it's not.

i genuinely forgot that it's only really in the uk where you can drink at the age of eighteen - which still doesn't excuse anything - so i'm sorry if any of you are uncomfortable at the age gap between adrian and the legal age.
i would also like to apologise if it's a sensitive subject for you. please, do not read anything that you know will trigger you.

thanks for reading!
love you all!

GIF MADE BY ME !
━ R O S C O E O B R I E N
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