Adrian and Patrick

10

I didn't see Adrian again that day. Maybe I should've reached out to him, since it really wasn't his fault; he was just trying to help.

So, the next day, I left Adrian's parents with the baby and went to look for him.

He wasn't at his house, or at any of the spots around town I thought he might be. On a hunch, I drove to my house.

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When I pulled up into my drive way, the light in the living room window was on and Adrian's car was parked crookedly in the driveway. I pulled in behind the car, and pulled my keys out of the ignition before opening my car door and walking to the front door.

For some reason, it didn't feel right to just use my key to open the door, so I knocked.

A few seconds later, I heard shuffling from the other side of the door. I was met with the sight of a disheveled Adrian; his hair unbrushed, clothes the same as they were yesterday, and body slumped in on himself. When his eyes met mine, Adrian sucked in a quick breath and pulled on the bottom of his shirt, trying to fix it quickly. When neither of us said anything for a moment, he cleared his throat. I could hear the TV going in the background, and as I glanced around Adrian, I saw that there was a new rug on the floor by the door.

But that wasn't all.

The whole place - or what I could see of it, anyway- was spotless. The floor was as shiny as I'd ever seen it, every bookshelf dusted, the trinkets moved up to the higher shelves with only books on the bottom couple. There was the edge of what looked like a playpen sticking out of the doorway to the living room, and what I could see of the living room showed that it had undergone the same cleansing as the hallway.

"If you think this is impressive," Adrian started, and my shocked gaze shot back to his face. "You should see upstairs." He gave me a tired smile and moved out of the doorway so I could get through.