Rain pressed down, cold and merciless, crushing everything beneath it. What the officers missed, the water devoured, dragging it into the gutters. Preservation fields flickered, stuttered, then died. Nothing left. The evidence waited, sealed and silent, holding its breath for morning.

Jared wiped water from his face, as if he could scrub away the echoes that clung to his skin. The whistle’s scream still lingered, thin and sharp, vibrating under his ribs. Residue. Not gone.

Adrian watched him. Deciding. Jared wasn’t safe to drive.

"Give me the keys," Adrian said, holding out his hand.

Jared didn’t argue. He pressed the keys into Adrian’s palm. Followed, shuffling to the passenger seat, dropping into it. Hands twisted tight in his lap. Maybe Adrian wouldn’t see the shaking.

“You have anything there to eat?” Adrian asked as he started the engine. His voice was quiet and clinical.

“I order in.” Jared leaned his head back against the seat.

Adrian murmured something. Too quiet. Maybe imagined. Jared closed his eyes. The car shifted, backing out. The engine’s hum settled in his bones, steadying.

He hated the exhaustion. Hated how the Dark always took more than it ever gave. Now it curled low inside him, a sleeping animal, purring, content. Sated by something at the scene. Maybe it had enjoyed it. The Dark never made sense. No answers. Only hunger.

Jared swallowed, forced his gaze outside. Neon smeared past, color bleeding into the wet. Buildings blurred, gray and metal. Rain struck the street in endless silver needles.

Adrian’s glances cut through him. Each one a lance.

“You pushed too hard back there,” Adrian said. He had stopped at a red light and took the opportunity to look over at Jared.

Jared closed his eyes to avoid eye contact. "I'm fine."

“You’re not fine,” Adrian said. “You’re pale. Your pupils are reactive but slow. Your breathing wasn’t stable for seven full minutes after the surge.”

“Counting my breaths now?”

Adrian sighed. “I am watching your monitor readouts.”

Jared stayed silent. Red light painted Adrian’s jaw, sharp with fatigue. He looked so tired it hurt to look at him. Guilt stabbed. Adrian hadn’t been field-active in years, and now Jared was dragging him back into alleyways that screamed in dead tongues. Making him worry. Just like before.

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

Adrian parked outside Jared’s building. Engine off. He didn’t move to open the door.

“You should sleep,” Adrian said. “At least a few hours. We can’t process anything tonight.”

Jared opened his mouth to protest, but just sighed. “Yeah. Okay.” He didn't feel like fighting with Adrian tonight.

He stepped out. The night pressed in, vast and strange. The Dark pulsed, slipping out in thin strands. Only the rain, everywhere, drumming. He let it run over his face, cool and numbing. Soothing.

Adrian laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You're going to freeze out here."

They walked inside. The lobby was empty, save for a security drone drifting in slow circles near the ceiling. Only the elevator’s soft ding broke the hush. They rode up in silence. Jared watched the numbers climb, never meeting Adrian’s eyes.

The apartment door hissed open, exhaling a tired mechanical sigh.

Adrian stepped in first. He stopped dead just inside the threshold.

“What is all this?” Adrian asked softly.

Jared’s stomach twisted. “Research.”

Adrian didn’t answer. His gaze drifted, slow, taking in the room. Chaos. The apartment sagged under the weight of living, every surface claimed, nothing ever finished or put away.

The couch was half-buried under coats, cables, and soft things that might once have been blankets. A metal coffee table vanished beneath a pile of devices, cracked lenses, and glowing sigils etched into scavenged circuit boards. The kitchen counters were crowded with jars of dark liquid, loose tools, spell components tangled with wires, and half-disassembled cybernetics blinking weakly as if dreaming. The lamp in the corner flickered, not from neglect but from competition, its light fighting the pulse of runes, LEDs, and hovering holographic diagrams. Mugs, dozens of them, hung from the rack, sat on the floor, balanced on piles, each ringed with old stains.

Down the hall, the bed was only a suggestion: a nest of sheets, books, datapads, charms, notes layered until sleep itself seemed theoretical. Shelves bowed under grimoires, notebooks, memory chips, potted plants gone feral or dead. Photos everywhere, buried, bent, half-burned, half-remembered. The space pulsed with clutter and intent, a shrine to unfinished thoughts. Not absence, but proof of someone who had lived here too intensely to ever leave things empty.

Adrian’s face softened. Not quite pity, but close enough to tighten Jared’s chest. The Dark pulsed, a restless ripple, tendrils stirring in sympathy with the room’s low, constant hum.

“It’s the only place I have to work,” Jared muttered.

They’d had this conversation before, years ago. Back when they were partners. When things were complicated. Adrian would say things needed cleaning. Jared would say things were fine. Some things never changed.

“It’s a lot. How do you ever find anything?” Adrian asked.

“Not everyone needs clean lines and matching furniture,” Jared snapped, more defensively than he meant to, nudging a stack of components aside with his foot.

Adrian lifted his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say it was bad. Just… full.”

Jared rubbed the back of his neck. “Fits me fine.”

Just as chaotic as he was.

Adrian watched him for a moment, deciding whether to push the topic. He didn’t. Instead, he stepped fully inside and set his bag down beside the couch.

“You should rest,” he said gently. “You’re still pale.”

Jared watched. Adrian moved through the room, not judging. Just checking. Corners. Window locks. Ventilation. Making sure it was safe.

Disarming. Unsettling. Comforting, in a way he couldn’t name.

Adrian moved into the kitchen, still knowing where the glasses were. He filled one. Jared drifted closer.

“You mind if I crash here?” Adrian asked. “It’s late. And I don’t want to drive home through this rain.”

Jared’s heart thudded painfully. “Yeah. I mean...yes. That’s fine.”

He wiped his palm on his pants. Nerves buzzing. He didn’t know why this made him so tense. People stayed over all the time. Normal people. People not cursed, not infected, not breaking apart from the inside.

People who weren’t him.

Adrian leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

Jared swallowed hard, then looked at the floor. He reached into the drawer by the stove, fished around, and pulled out a single metal key. The spare. The only copy. He set it on the counter, close to Adrian.

Adrian blinked. “Jared…?”

“It’s a key,” Jared said, stating the obvious like an idiot. “It’s… uh. For the door.”

“I know what a key is,” Adrian said softly. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Jared’s throat dried out. He stared at his hands. “So you can check up on me. Whenever. If something’s wrong. If I’m not answering. I don’t want you to think I’m hiding.”

Adrian looked at him for a long, silent moment. Something flickered in his expression. Not pity. Not annoyance. Something deeper. Warmer. Sadder.

“Jared,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“I’m not,” Jared lied.

He nudged the key closer.

Adrian picked it up slowly and carefully. Added it to his ring, already heavy with keys and trinkets. Jared kept his own key hidden in his wallet. The only one he carried.

“Thank you,” Adrian said.

Jared nodded, unable to look at him.

Adrian pocketed the key. The moment pressed down, heavier than Jared expected. Pulse thudding in his ears. The Dark stirred, restless, unnamed.

Jared cleared his throat. “Uh… you want to shower or something? Get dry?”

“Probably a good idea,” Adrian said, glancing down at his rain-soaked clothes. “But you go first. You look as if someone sneezed on you, you'd fall over.”

Jared huffed an exhausted laugh. “Thanks.”

He turned away, escaping Adrian’s eyes. He started down the hall, then paused.

"I'm not going to shower. I'm too tired."

Jared gestured towards the bathroom door.

“I keep the linen and stuff in all the same places.”

Adrian nodded. “Thank you.”

Jared turned and headed towards the other end of the apartment, where the guest bedroom was. His arm brushed against Adrian’s as he passed him. Barely contact, but the Dark surged. Not violent. Not a threat. More like a startled animal, lifting its head.

A tendril of shadow slipped out before he could stop it. Curling in the air, blacker than steam, reaching for Adrian. Slow. Curious. Almost gentle.

Adrian’s breath caught, but he didn’t step back. He didn’t flinch.

Jared, however, did.

He jerked back, as if shocked. The Dark snapped into him, crackling along his spine. The apartment shrank. Breathing tightened. The Dark prowled under his ribs.

“I’m sorry,” Jared whispered, stepping further away.

“It’s all right.” Adrian’s voice was steady.

“That’s not alright,” Jared breathed, panic threading his voice.

“It’s not the first time your Dark has acted on its own,” Adrian said gently. “And it won’t be the last.”

“You don’t understand.” Jared’s voice cracked.

Adrian stepped closer, but slowly, as though approaching something wounded. “Jared. You’re tired. You used it too hard tonight, and it’s reacting. Just like your body reacts when you’re low on blood sugar or sleep. That’s all.”

“No.” Jared shook his head. “It doesn’t act like that with anyone else.”

A beat. A thin, delicate stillness.

Adrian didn’t move away. His eyes softened, lines forming at the corners from concern. “Then that’s something we can figure out. But not tonight. Right now? You need sleep. And I don’t mean the two hours you usually steal between nightmares.”

Jared opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed. Small. Unbearably so.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly.

“You won’t,” Adrian replied.

But Jared didn’t know. The Dark’s warmth beneath his ribs felt too aware, too focused. Adrian was a point of gravity it couldn’t ignore. Maybe Jared wasn’t the only one drawn in ways he didn’t understand. Everything about Adrian was confusing.

He stepped back towards his bedroom, giving Adrian more space.

“You can have the guest bedroom,” Jared said, forcing the words out evenly.

Adrian nodded. “Get some rest.”

Jared hesitated. Wanted to say something to break the tension. Instead, he turned for his bedroom, scrubbing a hand through damp hair.

He stopped in the doorway, not looking back. “If something feels off, wake me.”

Adrian’s voice was warm behind him. “Same goes for you.”

Jared nodded and stepped into the dark. Left the door open. He thought about changing, but didn’t care. He lay on the bed. Heart easing, breath steadying. The Dark curled through his chest, smoke warming itself by a flame. Curious. Expectant. Watching the man in the other room. Jared pressed a trembling hand to his sternum, willing it still.

“Leave him alone,” he whispered into the Dark.

The Dark did not answer. But it did not retreat, either.

Eventually, exhaustion dragged him under. Adrian’s soft movements in the living room were the last sounds he heard before sleep claimed him.