Adrian - Chapter 10

I sat in the back corner of the music room, my fingers lazily strumming over the strings of my beat-up acoustic. The sound was soft, a little rough around the edges, but it felt good, familiar. The notes floated gently in the air, each one blending into the next as I hummed along, letting the sound wrap around me like a blanket.

This room was kind of sacred to me.

It didn't smell great; old carpet, varnish, and whatever weird scent the choir left behind, but it was quiet. Untouched by the madness outside. No teachers breathing down your neck, no judgmental stares, no one asking:

"Why are you always writing songs about heartbreak when you've barely been in a relationship?"

Screw them.

I leaned back in the rickety chair I'd claimed as mine since Year 7, propping my feet up on the table in front of me. My phone balanced against a book of chords, and I squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the mess I'd written at midnight. It didn't help that the G major kept turning into some unholy screech because I kept missing the damn fret.

I groaned and dropped my head back dramatically.

"This is so dumb," I muttered to myself. "Why did I pick music for this assignment again? Oh, right, because I hate myself."

Just as I was about to try again, the door slammed open with a bang that echoed off every wall. I jumped hard enough to actually let out a tiny, undignified yelp, the chair tipping back underneath me. Time slowed for a half-second, just enough for me to realise I was going down and there was nothing I could do about it.

THUD.

My back smacked the floor, and my guitar let out a protesting twang as it hit my chest. I stared up at the ceiling, stunned, then tilted my head to see Aria standing in the doorway with the most satisfied smirk I've ever seen on a human being.

"Hey there, sunshine," she said sweetly.

"You're such a bitch, man," I groaned, sitting up and brushing imaginary dust off my butt, trying to salvage what was left of my dignity. "Do you always have to kick doors open like a supervillain? Or some other shit?"

"I'm not a bitch," she said, leaning casually against the doorframe like she hadn't just committed psychological warfare. "You're just a sook, really."

I gave her a flat look. "You literally gave me a heart attack."

"Then maybe you should get your heart checked," she grinned. "What are you even doing in here all alone? Got kicked out of the bay already?"

I glanced at my guitar, then back at her, resisting the urge to throw my pick at her face. "What does it look like I'm doing? I've got a music assignment due."

"Ahh," she said, stepping fully into the room and flopping onto the nearest bench with all the grace of a bored cat. "So you're sulking and procrastinating. Classic Adrian."

"I am not sulking," I muttered.

She raised a brow.

"Okay, maybe a little," I admitted, sinking back into my chair and picking the guitar back up. "But only because I'm creatively blocked. And because my song sucks. And because the girl I wrote it for ghosted me after three days."

"Three days?" Aria snorted. "That's not ghosting, that's just sensible time management."

"Wow, thank you for your endless support."

She shrugged. "I'm here to keep you humble."

"And I'm here to write the next sad indie heartbreak anthem of the year," I said, dramatically strumming a melancholy chord.

"And here I thought you peaked with 'Cursed by a Girl from Canberra.'"

I groaned. "That song was experimental."

"Sure it was."

But despite her teasing, I smiled. Because this was normal. This was us.

And honestly, it made the song suck a little less.

~~~

Max always had a talent for finding the weirdest places in town; the kind of spots no one else dared to go. Not your regular sketchy alleyways or busted-up skateparks, but actual relics.

Forgotten houses from the 1920s, overgrown graveyards tucked behind train stations, rusted-out factories that still smelled like grease and ghosts.

But we didn't go to trash the places. Not to tag walls or break things like half the other boys from school might. Max liked to chill there. Explore. He said it was like walking through time with no one watching.

Tonight was one of those Max nights, unpredictable, slightly sketchy, and oddly peaceful.

We stood at the back of an old house on Main Street, tucked between a boarded-up laundromat and a fish-and-chip shop that somehow never closed. The place looked like it had been empty for decades, weatherboard panels curling like old paper, windows dusted over, porch sunken in like it was tired of standing.

Max found a way in through a narrow side door that was barely holding on its hinges. It creaked as we pushed through into the dark.

He held the flashlight, the beam cutting through layers of cobwebs like we were entering a tomb. The dust hit us immediately, sharp and dry, thick in the throat. Max coughed and waved a hand in front of his face.

"Fuck, it's dusty in here," he muttered, voice echoing off the rotted timber walls.

I glanced around, shining my smaller torch toward faded wallpaper, cracked doorframes, and a grand staircase that probably used to impress people back in the day. It was the kind of place you could imagine being beautiful once. Now, it looked like it had stories trapped inside the walls, just waiting for someone to listen.

"So…" I grinned, nudging Max with my elbow, "Where we exploring first? Upstairs? Or the creepy-ass basement you're pretending not to be curious about?"

Max smirked, the light catching the edge of his cheekbone. "Nah, I've got something better." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a glass bottle with the label half-scratched off.

Vodka.

He held it up like he'd just uncovered buried treasure. "Snatched it from my dad's stash."

I blinked at him, not exactly impressed. "Dude. I didn't come here to get smashed in some haunted retirement home. We're fifteen. It's illegal, remember?"

Max groaned like I'd kicked a puppy. "Come on, mannn. Just a sip. We won't get caught, I promise ya. Besides, how many times are we gonna get a night like this?"

He started up the staircase, his footsteps creaking on the old wood like the house itself was warning us to leave.

I stood at the bottom for a second, sighing, rubbing a hand over my forehead like that might help me think clearly. I could already imagine the headlines: Two Dumb Teens Found in Collapsing House, Vodka Bottle Found in Hand of Blonde Teen.

But I followed him anyway. Because I always did.

Because Max had this way of pulling you into things. Like gravity. Or trouble.

The staircase groaned with every step under my weight. Dust danced in the air like ash. And somewhere in the quiet, I swear I heard the house breathe.

~~~

We were parked on the old wooden floor, backs pressed against the wallpapered wall of that decaying upstairs hallway. The air was thick, musty and dry, laced with the distant scent of rot and whatever mold had made this house its kingdom. Half the bottle of vodka sat between us like a secret pact. Our laughter, earlier loud and stupid, had dulled into lazy chuckles and muttered words.

Max leaned his head back with a thud against the wall, the bottle tilted in his loose grip as he took another sip. His eyelids fluttered like he was half-asleep, half-awake in some slow-motion dream.

"This shit... is so fucking strong..." he mumbled, the words barely escaping past his lips.

I laughed under my breath, the kind of laugh that came from being so far gone you didn't really know what you were laughing at anymore. I looked at him, his cheeks were flushed, his hair a mess, eyes glassy but still somehow bright.

Yup. Definitely drunk.

"Absolutely…" I muttered in agreement, my head turning to face the opposite wall.

And then, I saw it.

Movement. Just for a second.

A flicker of something just out of reach in the corner of my eye, like a shadow shifting or a person slipping out of view. My whole body tensed for a moment, and I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus.

Nothing.

The hallway was still again.

Quiet.

I shook my head, blinking a few times.

"Fuck… I'm, like, so fucking wasted…" I whispered, as if saying it out loud would explain the weirdness away.

Max mumbled something in response, low and unintelligible, his words smudged together by alcohol. I didn't even try to make it out. I just sat there, half-slumped, thoughts foggy, limbs heavy.

I slapped my hands softly against my knees, the sound echoing slightly in the hollow house, and started humming. I didn't know the tune. I wasn't even sure where it came from. It just rolled out of me, simple and slow. Familiar in a way I couldn't place.

"What'cha humming?" Max murmured, eyes half-lidded now.

I shrugged. "Dunno," I said, but I didn't stop humming. The tune clung to my tongue like a word I'd forgotten but somehow remembered the feeling of.

It felt… old. Like I'd known it in another life. Like it was stitched into my bones.

Max didn't press. He just let the silence grow again.

I licked my dry lips, staring at the empty end of the hallway. The shadows had thickened a little, or maybe that was just my mind playing tricks.

"Hey…" I murmured after a beat, voice low and careful, "Can I talk to you about something?"

Max shifted next to me, dragging his head away from the wall to look over. "Sure, man… go for it…" he said with a lazy nod.

I grabbed the bottle and took a swig. The vodka burned all the way down, sharp and bitter, reminding me for the hundredth time that I wasn't supposed to be doing this.

Not here.

Not now.

But I needed to say it.

"I've been… having these dreams, man," I started, keeping my eyes on the floorboards. "Weird ones. Like… there's this place in the clouds. Huge. Bright. It's beautiful. Like I belong there."

Max blinked slowly, clearly struggling to keep up. "Oh… you mean heaven?" he slurred, head tilting.

I shook my head immediately. "Nah… it didn't feel like that. It felt… like home."

The word sat heavy in the space between us. Max didn't say anything at first. Just nodded slowly, more out of habit than understanding.

The house creaked somewhere above us. A soft groan in the ceiling, like the old beams were stretching in their sleep.

And still, that tune I was humming lingered in my head.

A melody I shouldn't have known.

But did.