Two Worlds Apart

CHAPTER VI - ADRIAN

Adrian can't sleep. He lies awake, staring at the cracked ceiling above his bed, his mind racing with images from the night. He keeps seeing her face - the girl from the border, her pale blonde hair catching the light, her eyes wide with curiosity and fear as she looked across at him, as if she were searching for something she'd never known.

"Who was she?" he whispers to himself, the question echoing in the silence of his small room.

He's heard stories of the Upper Slate his whole life - about the people who live behind those towering glass walls, their lives so strict and controlled, with every action measured, every word polished. He's never given those stories much thought before, dismissing the people of the Upper Slate as cold and distant, a world so far removed from his own. But tonight was different. Tonight, he saw something that didn't fit with any of those stories - a girl who looked just as lost as he felt, staring at him as though he held the answers she'd been searching for.

The memory of her lingers, stubborn and persistent, filling him with a strange excitement, a thrill he can't quite name. He tries to close his eyes, willing himself to sleep, but the restlessness stays with him, tugging at him like a thread.

Finally, he sits up, glancing out the small window beside his bed. The street outside is quiet, a few lanterns still flickering along the narrow paths. The Dark Slate is never truly silent - even in the middle of the night, he can hear the distant hum of voices, the occasional shout or laugh from people who have no reason to hide who they are. It's a comforting sound, familiar and warm, a reminder that his world is alive in a way the Upper Slate never could be.

But tonight, the warmth feels different, like it's missing something. He can't shake the image of the girl, standing on the other side of the border, her expression a strange mixture of fear and wonder. He remembers the look in her eyes, the way they met his with a kind of fragile hope, as if she'd stumbled into a world she'd only ever dreamed of.
He rises from bed, pacing back and forth in his small room, feeling a nervous energy that won't let him stay still. He wants to know more - who she is, what brought her to the border. Why she looked at him that way, as if she were seeing something new and extraordinary.

"Adrian?" His mother's voice drifts in from the other room, soft and sleepy. "What are you doing up?"

He stops, glancing at the door, feeling a sudden pang of guilt. "Sorry, Ma. Just... couldn't sleep."

She hums, the sound fading as she drifts back to sleep, and he lets out a quiet sigh, lowering himself onto the edge of his bed. His thoughts drift back to the girl, and he realizes, with a jolt, that he wants to see her again. He wants to know if she'll come back to the border, if she'll be brave enough to cross that invisible line that separates their worlds.

The thought fills him with a strange determination, a silent promise that he'll be there, waiting, in case she does.

The next day, Adrian joins Daniel and Poppy in the square, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of the girl. They spend the morning helping Old Man Kelford with his repairs, carrying scrap metal and bits of wood to patch up the holes in his roof. By noon, they're sitting on the edge of the square, sharing an apple they managed to swipe from one of the market stalls, the warm sun casting dappled shadows over their faces.

"So," Poppy says, tossing the apple core aside, "you going to tell us what you were staring at last night?"

Adrian feels a flush creep up his neck, and he glances away, shrugging. "Nothing. Just... saw someone from the Upper Slate, that's all."
Daniel raises an eyebrow, grinning. "Someone, huh? Must've been someone interesting, to get you all starry-eyed like that."

"It wasn't like that," Adrian mutters, though he can't keep the excitement from his voice. "She just... looked different. Like she wasn't supposed to be there."

Poppy leans closer, her eyes gleaming with interest. "What'd she look like?"

He hesitates, picturing her in his mind - the pale blonde hair, the delicate features, the way she'd stared at him as though he were something wild and mysterious. "She was... different," he says finally, struggling to put it into words. "She looked like she'd never seen the Dark Slate before. Like she was... curious."

Poppy's eyes narrow, her gaze drifting to the border. "Curious, huh? You think she'll come back?"
Adrian shrugs, though the hope flickers in his chest. "Maybe. I don't know. But I think she wants to."
Daniel snorts, shaking his head. "People from the Upper Slate don't come down here unless they have to. They're all too busy keeping their shiny shoes clean to care about us."

But Adrian feels a quiet certainty, a strange confidence that defies everything he's been told about the Upper Slate. "Maybe not all of them," he says softly. "Maybe... maybe some of them want more than that."

The words hang in the air, lingering like a whisper of something forbidden. Poppy watches him, her expression thoughtful, and after a moment, she gives a slow nod. "Well, if she comes back, you'll need to be ready. Don't want her running off before you get the chance to talk to her."

He smiles, grateful for her support, even if it's wrapped in teasing. "Thanks, Poppy. I'll be ready."

That evening, as the sun sets over the city, Adrian makes his way to the border, his footsteps light and quiet as he slips through the shadows. He keeps to the edges, moving past groups of people chatting and laughing, blending into the crowd as he approaches the narrow strip of land that separates his world from hers.

He stops at the edge, peering across the border, his heart pounding as he scans the quiet streets of the Upper Slate. He knows it's foolish to hope she'll be there, knows the odds of her returning are slim. But still, he waits, his gaze fixed on the empty street, his breath held as though she might appear at any moment.

Minutes pass, stretching into an hour, and the hope in his chest begins to dim, the realization settling in that she's not coming back. He sighs, feeling a mix of disappointment and frustration, and turns to leave.

But then, a movement catches his eye, and he freezes, his heart leaping as he spots a familiar figure slipping through the shadows on the Upper Slate side. It's her - the girl with the golden ribbon, moving carefully, her eyes darting around as though she's afraid of being seen. She pauses at the edge of the border, glancing toward him, her expression a mixture of fear and curiosity.

Their eyes meet, and for a moment, the world around them fades, the noise and chaos of the Dark Slate blending into a quiet hum. Adrian takes a step closer, his heart pounding, and he sees her hesitation, the uncertainty flickering in her gaze.
He raises a hand, giving her a small, encouraging wave, a silent invitation for her to come closer. She hesitates, her eyes widening, but then, slowly, she lifts her own hand, a shy, tentative wave that feels like a bridge between their worlds.

For a moment, he thinks she might actually cross the border, that she might step into his world and leave hers behind. But then a shadow appears behind her, and she flinches, her hand dropping as she glances over her shoulder.

A man steps into the light - tall, stern, with a sharp gaze that takes in everything. The girl stiffens, her face going pale, and Adrian sees the fear in her eyes as she backs away, her gaze darting to him in one last, desperate glance before she turns and hurries back into the shadows of the Upper Slate.
Adrian watches her go, a tightness in his chest as he realizes how close he came, how quickly the moment slipped through his fingers. But he doesn't feel defeated - if anything, the brief encounter only strengthens his resolve, deepening the spark of curiosity that drives him.

He makes a promise to himself, a vow whispered into the quiet night.

One day, I'll find a way to reach you. No matter what it takes.

And as he walks back into the heart of the Dark Slate, he carries that promise with him, the girl's face etched in his mind, a reminder of the world that lies just beyond his reach.