The night I let him stay

Evanna’s Bedroom — Midnight

Adrian swung one leg over the windowsill and slid inside like he belonged there.

Like this was something they did all the time.

Evanna’s breath caught as his boots hit the floor softly.

“You need to leave,” she said immediately, her voice low but sharp.

Adrian gave her a look—half amused, half daring.

“I just got here.”

“I’m serious,” she whispered harshly, stepping toward him. “If my dad finds you in here—”

“Then I’ll jump out the window,” he cut in smoothly.

“Relax, Melrose.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Don’t call me that.”

He smirked, but it faded quicker than usual.

His gaze drifted around her room—at the bookshelf lined with neat rows, the photos on her desk, the blanket she’d dropped when she got up.

It was the kind of room someone belonged to.

Something he never had.

She crossed her arms, trying to stay firm.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Adrian’s eyes found hers again, something raw behind them now.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”

For a second, Evanna wavered.

Because there was something about the way he said it.

Like he knew he didn’t belong there.

Like he wanted to anyway.

“Just five minutes,” he added, voice softer.

“Then I’ll go.”

Evanna sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“This is so stupid,” she muttered.

He smiled, just a little.

“But you’re still letting me stay.”

She glared at him but didn’t argue.

Instead, she motioned to the floor.

“Sit there,” she ordered.

“If you’re staying, you’re not sitting on my bed.”

Adrian chuckled under his breath, but he obeyed.

Lowered himself onto the rug at her feet, arms resting loosely over his knees.

They sat in silence for a minute.

Her perched on the edge of the bed, him on the floor, staring out the window he came from.

And it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was… something else.

After a while, she found herself asking,

“Why me?”

Adrian glanced up at her, eyebrows raised.

“I mean,” she said, swallowing, “you could’ve gone anywhere. To anyone.”

He studied her for a moment, then said simply,

“Because you don’t look at me like I’m broken.”

That shut her up.

Because suddenly her throat felt tight and her heart ached in a way she wasn’t ready for.

The silence stretched between them.

Comfortable.

But heavy too.

Like there was something waiting to be said.

Evanna watched him from where she sat on the bed.

Adrian was still on the floor, back against the wall, knees bent, arms draped over them.

He stared out the window, his jaw tight.

She didn’t know what made her speak.

Maybe the way his eyes looked darker in the moonlight.

Or the fact that he’d come all this way, climbed through her window, and was now sitting here like he had nowhere else to go.

“Why don’t you go home for the holidays?” she asked quietly.

Adrian didn’t answer at first.

His fingers tapped against his knee absently, like he was thinking of something far away.

Then he shrugged, but it was empty.

A gesture that meant nothing.

“There’s nothing there,” he said finally.

His voice was low.

Flat.

Like he’d told himself this a million times before.

Evanna’s brows pulled together.

“No family?”

“Oh, there’s family,” Adrian replied with a bitter twist to his mouth.

“They just stopped pretending to care a long time ago.”

Her stomach twisted.

She wanted to ask more, but she waited.

And after a minute, he kept going.

Like he needed to say it out loud.

Like no one had ever asked.

“My mom left when I was ten,” he said.

“Dad… well, he’s still there. Physically. But he’s got better things to do. Like his job. Or his alcohol. Or pretending I don’t exist.”

He let out a humorless laugh.

“My sister tried for a while. She really did. But she got tired of cleaning up my messes. Left for college, never came back.”

Evanna’s throat tightened.

She stayed quiet.

“I started smoking when I was six,” Adrian said, like he was listing facts from a textbook.

“Fighting by the time I was twelve. Got suspended from two schools before I ended up at ours.”

He glanced up at her then, meeting her gaze for the first time since he started talking.

Eyes sharp, like he was daring her to flinch.

To look at him differently now that she knew.

But she didn’t.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t look away.

“They gave up on me,” he said simply.

“So I gave them a reason to.”

There was a silence after that.

Heavy.

Charged.

Evanna let it hang there.

Then she said quietly,

“I wouldn’t have.”

Adrian stared at her.

And something in his face cracked.

Just a little.

He looked away again, swallowing hard.

“You’re too good, Melrose.”

She shook her head slowly.

“No. I just see what they were too blind to notice.”

Adrian’s fingers tugged absently at the thread of his hoodie sleeve, like he needed something to do with his hands.

But his voice was steady now, lower.

Like he was getting used to telling the story.

“You know the first time I realized my dad didn’t care?” he asked, his eyes still locked on the darkness outside her window.

Evanna shook her head silently.

“I was eight. I broke my arm,” he said.

“Fell off my bike. It was bad—bone was sticking out. I ran home crying. Screaming.”

He let out a breath that sounded like a ghost of laughter.

“Dad was passed out on the couch with a bottle in his hand. Didn’t even open his eyes. I waited for hours, thinking he’d wake up and take me to the hospital.”

Adrian shook his head.

“He didn’t.”

Evanna’s heart twisted painfully.

“What happened?”

“My sister,” he said.

“Isla. She found me. She was twelve at the time. Stole his car keys and drove me to the ER. Couldn’t even reach the pedals properly.”

His lips lifted, but it wasn’t a smile.

“She was always the responsible one. The golden child. Got straight As. Played the piano. Stayed out of trouble.”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze distant.

“She kept trying to pull me back. Every time I got into a fight, she was there to patch me up. Hide the bruises. Lie for me when the school called.”

He paused.

“Until one day she didn’t.”

Evanna swallowed, waiting.

“It was after my second suspension,” Adrian said.

“I’d gotten into a fight with this guy who was picking on a kid. I broke his nose. Thought I was doing something good.”

His jaw clenched.

“But Isla… she just looked at me like I was already lost. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t cry. Just… packed her bags and left for college the next week. I haven’t seen her since.”

Evanna bit the inside of her cheek, her chest heavy with the weight of everything he was saying.

“She never called?” she asked softly.

Adrian shook his head.

“No. But I don’t blame her. She did what she had to do. She got out.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.

“And I stayed behind. Smoking. Fighting. Daring the world to hit me back.”

Evanna stared at him for a long moment, her throat tight.

And then she slid off the bed.

Sat down beside him on the floor, her shoulder brushing his.

He turned to look at her, confused.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m staying,” she said quietly.

“So you’re not sitting here alone.”

For a second, Adrian just blinked at her.

Like he didn’t understand what she meant.

Or maybe he did, and it scared him.

But then he let out a breath, his body relaxing just a little.

And for the first time that night, he didn’t feel like he was running from something.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The moonlight pooled across the floor, faint and cold.

But it was enough.

Enough to keep them grounded here.

In this quiet moment that neither of them saw coming.

Adrian let his head fall back against the wall, eyes closing briefly before opening again.

“You know,” he murmured, “my mom used to sing.”

Evanna blinked at him.

That wasn’t what she expected to hear.

“She had this… voice,” he went on, staring at the ceiling now like he could hear it again if he tried hard enough.

“She’d hum when she cooked. Or when she brushed my hair.”

He gave a small laugh, shaking his head.

“Yeah. She used to brush my hair. Said it got tangled too easily.”

Evanna found herself smiling softly, imagining it.

“What happened to her?” she asked, keeping her voice gentle.

Adrian’s face shifted, the faint softness turning brittle.

“She left,” he said simply.

“One day, I came home from school and her stuff was gone. Dad said she wasn’t coming back. He never said why.”

There was a silence after that.

But it wasn’t heavy this time.

It was… hollow.

“I was ten,” he said.

“Old enough to understand. Too young to stop caring.”

He ran a hand over his jaw.

“First cigarette I stole was hers. Left behind in an old pack. Smoked it behind the garage the same night she left.”

His fingers flexed like he could still feel the weight of it.

“Choked on the smoke so hard I threw up. But I kept doing it. Figured if I could make myself sick enough, I’d stop thinking about it.”

Evanna’s chest ached.

“You were just a kid.”

He looked at her then, eyes dark.

“We’re all just kids until life kicks us in the teeth.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

And then Evanna shifted closer, her knee brushing his.

“You ever think about finding her?” she asked quietly.

Adrian shrugged.

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t know what to say. ‘Hey, remember me? I’m the son you walked out on.’”

His voice was flat, but the muscle in his jaw jumped.

Evanna studied him for a long moment.

“You wouldn’t have to say anything,” she said.

“She’d see it in your eyes.”

He huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh.

“Might scare her off.”

She nudged him lightly with her shoulder.

“She’d be stupid to run.”

For the first time, something real softened his face.

Not a smirk.

Not a mask.

Something tired but alive underneath it.

“She already did,” he murmured.

But he didn’t pull away from her.

Evanna didn’t have words for that.

So she reached out, her fingers brushing his hand before curling around it.

Warm.

Steady.

Real.

Adrian glanced down at their hands.

And for once, he didn’t pull away...

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