Signals Crossed

18

Yauch had always been good at waiting.

It wasn't passive, not really. It was a choice he made over and over again—especially when it came to her.

Adam Yauch saw Mel in a way that felt almost unfair compared to everyone else. He noticed the small things: how she bit the inside of her cheek when she was thinking, how she softened around people she trusted, how she carried more than she ever said out loud. And yeah—he saw that she was beautiful. Anyone with eyes could see that now.

But what made it complicated... was that he also saw where her heart kept drifting.

Back to Adam Horovitz.

Even when she didn't mean to.

Even when she was trying not to.

⸻

A few days after the studio, Yauch caught her outside after school, backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Hey," he said, falling into step beside her. "There's a movie playing tonight. Thought maybe we could go."

Mel glanced over, a small smile forming automatically. "What movie?"

"Some old horror thing. Supposed to be terrible."

She huffed a laugh. "That's your pitch?"

"It's a strong pitch."

She shook her head, but there was something apologetic in her expression now.

"I can't tonight," she said. "Halloween Eve. I always watch scary movies."

"With friends?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"With Ad," she said. "It's... kind of our thing."

There it was.

Yauch nodded once, like it didn't bother him.

"Tradition," he said.

"Yeah."

A small pause.

"You could come," she added quickly, like she didn't want it to sound like she was choosing one over the other.

Yauch smiled—but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I think that one's yours," he said gently. "You should keep it."

Mel studied him for a second, like she almost understood what he meant... but not fully.

"Okay," she said softly.

"Have fun," he added.

And he meant it.

Even if it cost him a little.

⸻

Halloween Eve felt the same as it always had.

And completely different.

Mel stood outside Ad's place, adjusting the sleeves of her top for the third time. It wasn't anything dramatic—still her style, still her—but it fit her differently. Sat closer to her frame. The neckline dipped just enough to feel... noticeable.

She exhaled once, then knocked.

A beat later, the door swung open.

Adam Horovitz froze.

Not obviously. Not in a way anyone else might catch.

But Mel saw it.

His eyes flicked over her—quick, almost like a reflex—before he stepped back, clearing his throat.