𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 | 𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬

¹⁶ | Crisis

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 sunlight beams harshly on Alex's face. He throws a pillow over his eyes and pushes it against the unbearable pounding of his skull. The giddy feelings of warmth and charm from the night before washed away with the smell of strong alcohol and personal torture. When the pillow proves to be helpless, he tosses it to the floor of his bedroom.

"Ow," Brendan mumbles, even though it didn't really hurt.

"What time is it?"

"Doesn't matter," he says, turning to lie on his stomach. There is an unexplainable bruise on his left shoulder blade. "If it's not in the pms, go back to sleep."

"11:47," Alex checks, anyway. He steps out of bed slowly and decides that throwing on a t-shirt would be too taxing when his body feels the way it does. He opens his bedroom door and looks back at Brendan, sprawled out in the same spot as usual. "What time do you want me to come wake you up?"

"Never. Just kill me instead."

"Okay, later."

He makes it down half the stairs before he catches sight of Adam, staring at the living room ceiling, his hands carefully sitting on his chest. Alex asks if he's alright.

"Not sure, yet," Adam tells him.

Alex rubs his eyes once he reaches the floor. "How's the view?"

"Refreshing, strangely. Come give it a try."

He shrugs and lies on the opposite end of the couch. The ceiling is blank white and dull. It isn't textured like the second floor. It stares back at them.

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"I think me an-"

"Rowan," Alex cuts him off, lifting himself up to lean onto his elbows.

"What?"

"Good morning, guys," Rowan says, lazily half smiling at the two. "Anybody get any sleep?"

"Not a fucking blink."

"Yeah, neither did I."

"Wanna come join us?" Alex asks. "The smooth ceiling is very calming to look at."

"Where's B?" Rowan questions.

"Dying in my room."

She nods and wanders into the kitchen. Her voice travels around the corner to the two boys that she's lighting a candle.

"What were you going to say, Adam?"

He thinks for a long moment, his mind racing with memories of the night before, and at the same time, nothing. "I'll tell you later."

Rowan returns, this time, with the sweet smell of vanilla following her as the flame flickers quickly. She puts her hand in front of it to stop it from going out before placing it on the mantle. Rowan sits on the plush carpet, her back leaning against the middle of the couch, just between Alex and Adam, and pulls her knees up to her chest.

Adam watches Rowan, his eyes holding her as if she was too delicate to drop–to look away from. And then it's there again, that same feeling that's been bubbling in his chest for as long as he can remember. It's that longing to reach for her, pull her back into the eye of the storm where things are still and quiet. She is barely an arm's length away from him, so far and so close all at once. The cutting beauty that is her sitting by him without being his, without him being hers, drowns Adam by the minute.

His fingertips brush the ends of her hair, gently twisting the soft strands between his fingers. Rowan turns her head to look at him, the side of her face resting on her folded arms. She smiles lightly, as to not alert Alex of their halcyon moment, and mouths a small 'hi' to him. Adam smiles back at her, their cheeks both warm and chests fuzzy. Rowan turns back and tries to force the muscles of her face to turn to normal. She tries to make her heart stop racing. There is still a faint pink on her cheeks as she decides that she can not physically look at Adam again without the sudden urge to kiss him. Sweet, selcouth, loving Adam Banks.