As they left the hospital, Trent tossed Adrian the keys to his car. "You're driving," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Adrian caught the keys, his hands trembling slightly, and slid into the driver's seat, while Trent took the passenger side.
The drive started in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound between them.Trent watched Adrian out of the corner of his eye, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the slight slump in his shoulders. Finally, Trent broke the silence.
"Have you been sleeping?" he asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
Adrian tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his jaw clenching. "Yes," he lied, trying to keep his voice steady.
Trent's gaze sharpened. "I hate being lied to," he said flatly.
Adrian's frustration boiled over, his voice rising as he spoke. "How can I sleep when, for the past two weeks, you haven’t given me an hour to breathe? I'm always working, always on call. I haven't had a decent bath in days. My body is tired, exhausted... I don’t even know how I’ve been able to function all this time."
Trent remained quiet, his expression hard to read. After a moment, he spoke softly, "I push you because I know you can handle it, Adrian. But I didn’t realize it had gotten this bad."
Adrian's hands tightened around the wheel, his knuckles turning white. "Well, now you do," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and exhaustion. "Maybe try to remember that I’m human, not a machine."
For a moment, there was only the sound of the car moving down the road. Trent sighed, his tone surprisingly soft. "I’ll remember," he said quietly, a hint of something like regret in his voice. "But you need to tell me when it's too much. I can't help if I don’t know."
Adrian glanced over, surprised by Trent's response. It was rare to hear even a hint of softness from him. "I just... need a break," Adrian confessed, his voice small, almost vulnerable.
Trent nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "We’ll figure it out," he said, and for a moment, Adrian thought he felt the faintest brush of Trent’s hand against his arm—a small, fleeting gesture that sent another unexpected shiver through him.
Trent hadn't apologized but Adrian knew it was all he was getting. He sighed and focused on the road.
How did your dad end up like that Trent asked.
Why are you chatty now.... Adrian wanted to say.
A car accident Adrian said instead.
Is that why you work without complaining, just doing whatever I say so you can pay the hospital bills Trent asked.
Yes sir Adrian said.
That's why you lasted this long Trent said.
Adrian didn't know what to say so he kept quiet. He knew if he kept engaging in small talk with his boss he's going to get too comfortable and call him on his shitty attitude.
Tell me about yourself Adrian..
I'm a human who does whatever it is humans do Adrian thought but instead he said;
I’m not the tallest guy in the room—never have been at five-five—but I’ve always made up for it in other ways. I’ve got an athletic build, the kind that comes from running and lifting weights to burn off the stress of… everything. My skin is somewhere between my mom's deep black and my dad's pale white, with just enough of each to make me feel like I don’t fully fit in either box. My hair’s a wild mess of dark brown curls—some days it behaves, but mostly it does whatever it wants. I keep it cut in a razor fade with curls on top, clean on the sides but letting the chaos happen up there.
I've got a piercing in my left ear—nothing too wild, just a small silver hoop, something to remind me I’ve still got a bit of edge. I’ve also gone ahead and pierced my nipples. A couple of years back, I must have been thirteen at the time, I wanted to feel something sharp, something that woke me up more than the usual grind. Did it on a whim one night, and yeah, it hurt like hell, but now it’s just… part of me, I regretted doing the piercing and Kim never let's me forget about how wild and stupid I was back then it's a miracle I turned out to be a nerd too.
As for the tattoo on my arm, it's a black and grey piece that sprawls across my bicep and down to my forearm. It's a mix of things—a compass for the direction I’m always trying to find, a raven perched on a branch for the darker parts of me that don’t always show, and a few words in small, looping script that read, “Still I rise.” Got that one after I lost my dad, I was eight and this dude in the street needed cash so he did it for me in exchange for the money. The tattoo is a reminder that no matter how far down I fall, I’ve got to keep pushing myself back up.
People notice the tattoo sometimes, maybe the piercing too, but what they don’t usually see is what’s underneath all of that—the exhaustion, the fight to keep moving, the battle to stay standing in a world that never seems to stop throwing punches Adrian said grimacing as he parked the car. He got out and left quickly leaving the keys in his seat. Trent let him as he took the basement 1 elevator to his floor. He got inside the office and sat down.He got lost in thought.... thoughts of Adrian.
Trent watches Adrian more than he lets on, more than he probably should. There’s something about him that Trent can't quite put his finger on—a mixture of stubbornness and vulnerability, like he's always on the verge of falling apart but refuses to let anyone see it.
Adrian is a tough guy, no doubt, he's five feet four but he carries himself like he's a foot taller, shoulders squared, chin up, always ready to take whatever's coming his way. There’s a fierceness in his eyes that Trent respects, even if he’d never admit it out loud. He notices the way Adrian's curls bounce when he’s frustrated, the way he fiddles with that small silver hoop in his left ear when he’s thinking too hard or trying to keep it together. There’s a fire in him that Trent finds… compelling. Maybe even admirable.
Trent couldn't help but see the exhaustion in Adrian, though—the way his shoulders droop a little more each day, the dark circles under his eyes getting deeper. He's been pushing him hard, too hard maybe. But damn, Adrian doesn’t complain, not really. He just keeps going, keeps showing up, keeps fighting. There’s a part of Trent that wonders if he’s pushing Adrian because he wants to see how far he can go, or if it's because he needs to know Adrian won’t break. There's something almost magnetic about him, this mix of defiance and determination, like he’s carrying more than anyone realizes and yet still stands tall.
Then there are those moments—fleeting, rare—when Adrian lets his guard down for a second. Like in the car, when he finally snapped, his voice raw and honest, and it hit Trent harder than it should have. Those moments make Trent pause, make him think maybe he’s gotten too used to the idea of Adrian as just another employee, another cog in the machine, instead of a person who’s been burning the candle at both ends.
He saw the tattoo on Adrian's arm, when Adrian was changing shirts in his bedroom after he spilled coffee in his shirt, he remembered the way the lines stretch over his muscles, and the small, determined script: “Still I rise.” That says a lot about Adrian, more than he says with his words. Trent can’t help but admire that strength, that refusal to be knocked down, even if it’s maddening sometimes. Even if it makes him want to push harder, just to see if Adrian will push back.
And maybe that’s the problem. Trent’s used to people breaking under pressure, but Adrian… he just bends. And there’s a part of Trent that wonders what would happen if he stopped pushing, if he let himself care just a little too much. Maybe that’s what he’s afraid of—realizing he already does.
