My Type of Socializing | ✓

Chapter 3

The exchange with Assad in the laundry room had shaken Adam a bit. He avoided leaving his apartment when he felt Assad was in the building, and he decided that if the noise got worse, he would just file a complaint to the leasing office. Though, there was no need for that. The music became muted, and the parties seemed to be no more.

On a night when Adam had miscalculated, he stepped out to take out the garbage and noticed Assad leaving with a group of men when he was on his way back upstairs. One of them, who had dirty blonde hair and a distinct Brooklyn, clenched Assad's arm as he flirted with him.

So that's why the noise has stopped, he's going out instead. Adam thought to himself, hiding behind the wall as he waited for the young men to leave. He was wearing a casual t-shirt over cotton pajama pants. The areas outside the apartment themselves weren't heated, so he was getting cold.

He's gay? The small thought popped into Adam's head as Adam rubbed his arms. He frowned at the thought, shaking his head as if trying to get rid of it. The younger man could be anything—bi, pan, a straight person that was just too touchy with a friend. Adam remembered a lot of people coming out in his college. Art school was pretty liberal, and most people didn't care about your sexuality or how affectionate you were with people you were close to.

Adam gritted his teeth, feeling his heart sink at a memory that slipped into his head. He shut his eyes, trying to force himself to forget his ex-boyfriend. It's been years since they broke up, and years since Adam last saw him. This was why he avoided Assad. He brought up memories Adam didn't want to deal with.

"Is that necessary?" Adam heard a voice from the group say.

"Yeah," Assad said in response.

What's taking them so long? A sigh left Adam's lips. He was starting to feel cramped in the small corridor space for bins between apartments he had ducked into while waiting for the group to pass. Thankfully, it didn't take long after that, and their footsteps soon rang through the stairway corridor. When the sound of their footsteps had muffled into the distance, Adam stepped out into the open before heading upstairs.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, feeling the strain of climbing. Heading up was always harder than heading down.

A sigh of relief left his lips when he got to his floor. He walked to his apartment's door, raising a brow when he noticed a package laying against it.

"Hmm..." Adam trailed, staring down at the brown package before squatting to get a better look. The edge of his lips curved downwards in a frown as his eyes inspected the name on attached not with suspicion. "Oh him."

I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable.

Assad.

Adam rolled his eyes. "This is dumb," he said, even though he had started opening the package. Inside it was a charcoal pencil set. A wave of nostalgia washed over Adam as he looked at it. He couldn't remember the last time he drew anything non-digital. For about a minute, Adam quibbled with himself, wondering if it was okay to keep the gift, and decided it was.

He didn't have to talk to Assad now or anything, the younger man couldn't make him because of a present—or at least that was his train of thought. He got up from his squat before opening the door to his apartment and heading in.

He had switched off the lights before heading out to throw out the garbage, a power-saving habit he gained over the years after seeing a utility bill for the first time. Adam dropped the pack of pencils on the kitchenette counter, grabbing a cup of tap water before staring out into the area which would have been a living room, but he had stuffed it with a workbench and boxes of materials for references. The windows were closed off by a thick curtain, enforcing the room's claustrophobic look.

The apartment was neat, but this was one of those rare patches of the month when Adam found the energy to clean. With time, the tables and wooden floor would start accumulating empty take out bags and packaging hastily removed clothes and crumpled paper from Adam's concept art sketching.

Adam hummed as he looked through the cupboard with his one free hand for a snack. Nothing, both the storage and the fridge were getting a bit scanty, he made a mental note to go shopping... eventually, when he got the push to go outside. The silent serenity of the small kitchenette was disturbed by Adam's phone buzzing in his pocket. He looked down, dropping his cup of water on the counter before reaching into his pocket from his phone.

The notification had been that of an email from a contractor Adam wanted to freelance for in the coming months. They had finally sent in a reply to his portfolio. Adam's eyes watered before he shoved his phone back into his pocket, he didn't need to read beyond the small pop up on his screen. It wasn't worth reading the whole email to put salt in his injury. The start, "it looks too much like Archie Carter's work" was enough of a confirmation that it was a rejection.

The fact that Adam's work was similar to Archie Carter's was determined to haunt him for the rest of his life. Despite Adam not seeing his ex-boyfriend face to face for over three years, the man was still out there actively copying his work, and there was nothing Adam could do about it. He was a nobody. Who was going to believe that a concept artist for a huge comic company was copying him, a nobody? Adam could change his social media handles and pseudonym, sure, but his pride wouldn't let him rebrand because someone was actively stealing his work. He had worked hard for his brand, and he was keeping it. Besides, Archie will probably find him again.

He was the man's blueprint.

Archie used to say that when Adam helped him with assignments and thought him new tricks, and maybe Adam wouldn't have blushed and laughed along if he knew how serious the man had been. It was fine when he had just copied him to do homework to pass classes, but when he passed off Adam's work as his for a national contest that landed him the connections he eventually got for his dream job, Adam couldn't look him in the eyes, and the resulting depression meant they broke up without officially breaking up.

Archie went on to copy one of Adam's old projects and passed it off as his final project for graduation.

No remorse.

No sympathy.

Archie didn't feel bad for copying Adam, and Adam never had the balls to speak up about it.

Adam let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes with his fingers before heading into his makeshift workspace. He booted his computer, before setting out to work for a bit. He didn't have to submit anything to his comic's typesetter for a while but knowing himself to be the type to procrastinate towards deadlines, starting early was always a good idea.

Adam's attention on work dwindled after a while, and his blue eye drifted to the comments he had open on a different web tab. He smiled, letting himself recharge on the compliments written to him by the few people that read his work.

He pushed back strands of his chestnut hair, grinning as he scrolled through them with his mouse. He might not have a social life, or enough of a branding presence to live comfortably, but the comments and messages from fans always kept him off the edge.

If he didn't have them, he wasn't sure how he would cope with the ever persistence shadow of Archie in his life.

He might not even be alive.

Adam rested his back on his seat, blinking back and he nibbled his cracking lower lip. Dying had always been something he considered. The thought crept into his head occasionally. They were a lot worse on bad months when he didn't walk past the door of his apartment for weeks at a time. Such spirals often happened because Archie announced a new project, and it would stay on the news for days, depressing him.

"Get over it. It's been almost five years," he said to himself, getting angry at his behavior, but no matter how many times he repeated that to himself, it didn't work. He could not in fact just "get over it."