You’d always assumed Adrian was fearless.

He talked like he was fearless.

He acted like he was fearless.

But then you saw him on a night that was supposed to be quiet—just the two of you, sitting on his couch, watching a movie.

And he looked… nervous.

Not in the “I’m about to go fight a monster” way.

In the “I’m about to go to a dentist appointment” way.

You paused the movie and turned to him.

“Hey,” you said gently. “What’s wrong?”

Adrian stared at the screen like it was a ticking bomb.

“I don’t want to be normal,” he said quietly.

You blinked. “What?”

He swallowed. “Like… normal normal. You know. People who don’t have secrets. People who don’t have to kill to feel okay.”

You took a slow breath. “Adrian, you don’t have to be normal to be… good.”

He shook his head. “No. I mean—if I’m not normal, then what am I?”

You reached out and took his hand.

His fingers were cold.

“You’re you,” you said. “That’s enough.”

Adrian’s eyes flicked to your hand, then away again.

“I’m not like other people,” he whispered. “I’m not… safe. I’m not stable. I’m not—”

“You are,” you interrupted. “You’re just… broken in different ways.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “That’s not comforting.”

“It’s true,” you said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes widened, and he looked at you like he was trying to understand what you’d just said.

“You mean it?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Adrian let out a shaky breath. “Because normal people don’t say things like that.”

You squeezed his hand. “Normal people also don’t carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.”

He looked down at your hands.

Then he looked up at you again, eyes shining with something you hadn’t seen before—fear, yes, but also relief.

“I’m scared,” he admitted quietly. “If I stop being… me, I don’t know who I’ll be.”