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TWENTY-TWO

FARRON

ACTUALLY, REALLY NOT FINE

Day 474

After my moment with Theo, I decide it’s time to check on Adrian. Up until this morning, I’ve been so consumed by my own guilt that I haven’t stopped to consider how anyone else is feeling—not Daisy, not Adrian. There’s a small voice in the back of my head that’s been telling me I should be pissed at him. He walked out on me right when Ma passed, in a moment I needed him the most. We haven’t spoken since, Adrian going so far as to leave the room if I walk into it. So yeah, maybe I should be mad. But how can I be when all I see on his face every time I lay eyes on him is utter devastation?

I know how close he grew to Ma in such a short period of time, the way she easily filled the role of a mother figure for him—probably at a time when he needed that most. These last few days have proven that I’m not alone; Jay and Todd have been constants, Pa has been there in his own silent way, and Theo and Kenji have been unwavering with their support and care. Even Daisy showed me this morning just how much she’s kept me in her thoughts, all while suffering through her own grief and pain.

I’m positive Kenji and Theo have been there for him, but I should’ve been, too. I should’ve shown him that we can get through this together and rely on each other in our grief. The thought of Adrian dealing with so much alone leaves a knot in my chest. Resolving to make it right, I quicken my pace on the porch towards the back of the house.

I approach the back door leading into the kitchen and pause, hand hovering over the doorknob. Through the glass, I spot Adrian at the table, his head buried in his hands. His shoulders are slumped, his hair looks unwashed, and he radiates exhaustion. My stomach tightens. I open the door slowly, the creak slicing through the stillness. A gust of cold air follows me inside. Adrian looks up, and for a split second, relief flashes in his eyes before it’s replaced by a weary sadness. He tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Adrian…” I start to say but he quickly interrupts me.

“Sunshine,” he says, his voice bright but brittle. “What are you doing here? Want some coffee?” Before I know it, he’s already at the counter, gesturing vaguely toward the coffee maker before his hands hang limply at his sides. He doesn’t move to fill the pot or grab the grounds. He just stands there, frozen.

My chest tightens as I watch him. I hold my breath, afraid even the smallest sound might shatter whatever fragile control he’s holding onto. The room feels smaller with each passing second. His shoulders sag, his head dips, and then, with a sharp intake of breath, the dam breaks. His body trembles, and soft sniffles quickly become heart-wrenching sobs.

“Oh, Riri…” I cross the room in three quick steps, pulling him into my arms. He clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping him upright. His sobs wrack his entire body, and I hold him as tightly as I can, as though I can absorb some of his grief. Eventually, the storm passes, his breathing slows, and he pulls back just enough to wipe his face with trembling hands. “I’m fine. Really,” he says, but his hiccupping voice and tear-streaked face tell another story.

Tears prick my own eyes, and I can’t help but let out a soft laugh at his attempt to put on a brave face. “Sure you are,” I whisper, brushing his messy hair back. Adrian is always the one to carry the weight for everyone else. But when does he get to crumble and fall apart?

I take his hand and lead him to the table. Before I can sit down, he pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Sunshine,” he whispers into my shoulder, his voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

My heart cracks. He has nothing to be sorry for.

“Riri, look at me,” I say softly, cupping his face. His blue eyes, red-rimmed with tears, meet mine, and my chest aches. “You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault. She loved you, Adrian. You meant the world to her. Do you hear me? None of this is on you.”

He shakes his head, his gaze distant. “You don’t understand,” he murmurs. “I was supposed to help her that day. I promised her I’d help deliver the baskets, but I didn’t. I stayed with you, Kenji, and Theo. I never showed up.” His voice cracks, and another sob tears through him, garbled mumbles of apologies falling from his lips once again.

I wrap my arms around him, holding him as tightly as he clings to me. “This isn’t your fault,” I whisper fiercely. “Her death isn’t on you, Adrian. It’s on this cruel, broken world. You can’t put that all on yourself—it’s too much for anyone.”

He shakes his head again, his breath hitching. “Say it with me,” I plead. “It’s not my fault.”

At first, he doesn’t respond, but when I whisper again, he exhales shakily. “It’s not my fault,” he says, his voice barely audible. “But you know what is my fault? The way I left you that day, Sunshine. I just walked out and left you as you called out for me. I’m so fucking sorry, Farron.”

I don’t respond for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts and figure out what the right response to this is. I hum softly, my hand rubbing his back in soothing circles. “It hurt,” I admit, my voice small. “When you walked out like that, it felt like my heart cracked even further at a time I was convinced it had already been shattered.”

“Sunsh—”

“No,” I stop him. “Let me finish. It hurt. But I know, probably better than anyone, how easy it can be for your brain to freak out and shut down when something like that happens, how easy it is to run away and beg internally for anything to make the pain stop. I know what it’s like to be somewhere and mentally feel like you’re somewhere else entirely. I don’t blame you, Adrian. And even if I should be mad, I’m honestly not. I’m just sorry that you felt like you had to deal with any of it on your own, especially your misplaced guilt.”

“I knew I was hurting you as I was walking away, but it was like I couldn’t control my own body,” he admits quietly, his hand squeezing my thigh. “I knew I was ruining the best thing in my life.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” I tell him before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “We will get through this, okay? I’ll be right here when you need me.”

“All of this had made me think of you, of all of us and what would happen if something like that happened to one of us. I’ve always known that we’re not invincible, that danger is out there. But losing Nora makes me so scared to lose everyone else, too.” He says while looking down at our joined hands.

“You can’t think like that, it doesn’t do anyone any good. I promise I will always make it back to you.” I say with conviction.

Eyebrows pinched together, he shakes his head. “You can’t promise that.”

The truth of his words stings, but I hold his gaze. “You’re right. I can’t. But I will fight with everything I have to make it back to you.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to his, hoping he feels everything I can’t put into words. That I’m here, that I’ll never let him go, and that I’ll always fight my way back to him. Running after Holden was reckless—stupid, even. But I won’t make the same mistake again. I’ll come back to them. Or die trying.

Time blurs as we stay there together, neither of us moving. Minutes, maybe hours. I don’t know. What I do know is that being apart was a mistake, and I can’t let it happen again. He needs me. They all do. And I need them.

I shift slightly, leaning back on his lap, and take in his disheveled state. His hair’s a mess, and his shirt looks like it hasn’t been changed in days. Guilt twists in my chest as the realization sinks in—I wasn’t here when he needed me most.

But I’m here now.

I rise to my feet, taking his hand in mine. He looks up, confused.

“Come on,” I say softly. “Let me take care of you.”

I lead him upstairs to the shower, both of us remaining silent on the way up, the sound of our footsteps the only thing to be heard. Inside, I help him out of his shirt, lifting his arms so I can pull it over his head. Next, I slide his pants and underwear down, crouching to remove his socks one by one. When he’s bare, I take his hand and guide him toward the shower, starting the water to let it heat up.

I strip off my own clothes slowly, layer by layer, aware of his eyes on me the whole time. His gaze doesn’t hold heat—it’s something deeper, something reverent. He steps into the shower first, then holds a hand out to help me in.

Steam curls around us as the water cascades down. I want to pull him close, to hold him and never let go, but right now, this is about him. I grab the body wash and work it over his skin, taking my time with every inch of him. When I reach his cock, I don’t rush, treating it the same as any other part of him. He hardens under my touch, but I keep my focus steady.

Next, I lather shampoo into his hair, stretching onto my toes as he leans down. His hands settle on my shoulders, grounding me, and he lets out a soft sound as I work the soap through his hair. It’s so small, so vulnerable, it nearly undoes me.

When the water rinses away the suds, Adrian wraps his arms around me, holding me close. The heat of the shower and the solidness of him against me blur the edges of everything else. He presses his lips to my neck, soft and unhurried, finding that sensitive spot just below my ear. I gasp, my fingers tangling in his damp hair, holding him there as he presses closer. His cock is hard against my stomach, and he moves gently, his hips rolling in a slow rhythm.

But this is about him, not me. I don’t push for more. I let him set the pace.

His hands wander, cupping my breasts, and a quiet moan slips out before I can stop it. He lifts my right leg, guiding it around his waist, and the head of his cock brushes my entrance. He pauses, meeting my eyes, a silent question. I nod, answering him without words.

As he pushes inside me, I cling to him, anchoring us both. The world narrows to this moment, to him, to us.

“We’ll get through this,” I whisper, meaning every word.