You had already grabbed your jacket.

Keys in hand. One foot halfway to the door.

“Okay,” you said lightly, forcing casual into your voice. “This was… fun. Weird. But fun.”

Adrian stood behind you, frozen like someone had hit pause on him mid-thought.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh. You’re… leaving.”

“Yes,” you said. “That’s usually what people do at the end of hanging out.”

He nodded too fast. “Right. Normal. Makes sense. Love endings. Big fan.”

You turned the knob.

And then—

“WAIT.”

You stopped.

Adrian cleared his throat. “I mean—wait as in—can you not leave yet? Unless you want to leave. Which is allowed. I support autonomy. Big autonomy guy.”

You looked back at him.

He was fidgeting. Hands twisting together. Eyes darting everywhere except your face.

“I just,” he continued, words tumbling out now, “I’m not great at asking people to stay. Usually people leave because of… me. Or the knife thing. Or the honesty. Or the other knife thing.”

“Adrian—”

“And I know I didn’t say this right earlier,” he rushed on, “but I liked tonight. Like, a lot. And when you’re here things are quieter? In my head? Which is weird because I usually like loud.”