My Type of Socializing | ✓

Chapter 11

Adam had called Assad later in the weekend and had told him yes. Yes, he would go shopping with him, and even tolerate getting his hair cut if Assad would promise that the salon wouldn't be noisy. Assad had sounded excited at the other end of the phone, and he had promised to call in and ask how busy it would be on a Thursday.

So, throughout the next week, Adam waited for Thursday. It would be the first time in years that he would get on the bus and travel further than his local neighborhood. He wondered how much could change in three years. There would be new buildings, new streets, and probably upgraded tech regarding transport and traffic lights. The world didn't wait for anyone, and he was expecting a bit of a shock.

When Thursday came Adam had worn a pair of worn-out jeans he had found at the back of his closet and one of his many faded hoodies. He had sat at the staircase outside his apartment, waiting for Assad who had texted him saying he would be down in a few minutes.

Adam stared down at his shoes, squeezing his hands into fists to force them to stop shaking. He took on deep breathes, battling the urge to run back inside and lock his door.

"Let's go." Assad appeared just at the right moment, making Adam blink before turning to see the man behind him. Assad looked different. He was wearing a nice dress shirt over a pair of black slacks. Adam squinted, noticing the fancier clothes. He had almost forgotten people separated what they wore about the house from what they wore outside. He didn't have "going out" clothes anymore, because, well, the situation was self-explanatory.

"Come on," Assad said, reaching out a hand. Adam grabbed it, getting up from the stair before letting himself be led out of the apartment building by Assad.

There was an intrinsic feeling to reach up for his hood and cover his face. Assad noticed, but Adam was thankful for the fact that the man didn't ask him why he was doing that under the harsh sunlight and heat.

The walk to the bus station felt like a never-ending journey to Adam. He didn't remember when he last walked this much. This must have been three times the distance to the supermarket he got groceries and microwave-ready food from. When they finally reached the stop, Adam took a sit on the bench, hugging himself as Assad checked his phone. There were other people about, but they stood by the edge of the road, looking out to see if the bus was coming. Adam was anxious, but as long as nobody sat next to him, he was going to be alright.

"It should be here in ten minutes," Assad said, taking a seat beside Adam. The older man's chest squeezed up—not in a bad way. It felt nice. The feeling was happiness. It was calm and reassurance. Adam decided to edit the thought he'd had from before. He would be anxious if anyone else besides Assad had sat beside him.

The two sat in silence for the most part until the blue long bus pulled up beside the stop. Assad and Adam waited for the others to get in first before they got into the bus as well. It was full, so they had to stand up and hold on the overhead handles. Adam stuck close to Assad, trying to keep his focus on the man instead of the more than twenty people crammed into the bus. They were heading downtown. Of course, the bus was full, why hadn't Adam thought about that.

The bus driver closed the mechanical doors, and Adam staggered a bit, bumping into Assad's back.

"S-sorry," he mumbled, raising his head a bit.

"It's okay," Assad whispered back, making Adam look down at their feet as his throat clogged up. He didn't move away even though he had apologized. If Assad didn't end his hand resting on his back, he would tell him, right? So, Adam was going to let his hand stay, and he said a prayer for the next of the trip, hoping that Assad wouldn't tell him to move away. The younger man never did, and they got to their stop in the next twenty or so minutes.