My Type of Socializing | ✓

Chapter 12

For the next few weeks, Adam and Assad were like two peas in a pod. Aside from visiting each other's apartments, and doing laundry together, they had started to take walks. It had happened sporadically. Assad was heading out for a jog, but he had been having a conversation with Adam who had followed him downstairs. Adam hadn't wanted to stop talking to him, so he braved things out and followed Assad out of the apartment.

Adam didn't jog with Assad. Of course not. He had sat on a bench by the side of the trail as he had watched Assad do his rounds. It had felt nice to be out in the cool air and stare at the orange sky. It had felt nice to have Assad smile at him and squeeze his shoulder whenever they had to make space for someone else to walk by.

The end of the month came, and Adam started to see less of Assad. It wasn't because they had a fallout or anything. Assad just needed space to work on his end of the term project. Adam understood that. He remembered how hard it had been for him to bring his own concept to life when he was back in college. The two still exchanged texts every day, even though for the most part it was nothing serious and it was just them asking how the other was doing. Adam made it a habit to check his phone first thing in the morning because of it.

Message from: Assad.

What are you up to?

FRI, 9: 54 A.M.

Adam stared at the text before typing up a quick reply. Assad was probably already at campus working on his project.

Message to: Assad

I'm doing fine. How's your print coming along?

FRI, 10:34 A.M.

Assad's final project was a backdrop print of a waterside. Adam had helped him choose it from a list of ideas the younger man had presented him with. Assad seemed to have a good handle on watercolor, so it made sense as an option.

Message from: Assad.

It's coming along, I guess.

FRI, 10: 36 A.M.

Adam smiled at that, closing his message app before putting his phone away and deciding to make breakfast. It was okay that he didn't reply. A reply wasn't needed, and Assad understood that. That's what Adam liked about him. He didn't feel the pressure to act in a certain way, and Assad gave him space to be himself and take the steps he needed in their friendship whenever he wanted to.

"If you ever feel up for grabbing a drink one of these days, I'm only a text away," Adam remembered Assad saying once, as the younger man dressed up for a party.

"You're twenty," Adam had said in response, and Assad just laughed, shrugging his shoulders.

"If you tip the bartender, they don't say anything," Assad had said with a grin that had made Adam's face grow warm. He had remembered thinking right then and there that he loved Assad.

He loved Assad so much that it hurt.

When Adam had gotten his toast and scrabbled eggs onto his plate, he headed to at his work desk, scrolling through his email as he munched on food and tried to figure out how to start his day. It was quiet and serene for the most part, like most of Adam's days in front of his desktop.

Adam's head shot up when he heard a knock on his door. He raised a brow, wondering who it could be. It wasn't Assad, for sure, the younger man was still in college. Adam got up from his seat at the dining table before wandering over to the door. It didn't have a peeping hole, so he just pressed his ear to its cool wooden surface and took deep breaths.

"Who is it?" he managed to get out without a stutter. He didn't want to see anyone or be put in a situation where he would have to talk to anyone today. Maybe it was one of his neighbors that wanted to say hello? He had noticed that more people in the building had started waving and smiling at him since he got his hair cut and changed his clothes.

"Package delivery for Adam Taylor," the voice at the other end said, and Adam felt relief at the fact that it was just a service worker before his brain started asking him questions about where the package had come from. He hadn't ordered anything recently, and he had ended all his recurring deliveries.

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry." Adam blinked, leaning off the door before opening it. The delivery man was on the other side of the door, holding a box on one hand and a pen and a signing sheet on the other. He didn't wait for Adam to reach out for the box before stuffing it into his hand.

"Sign here," the man said in a curt tone. He looked tired, and like he didn't want to be there. Adam signed the section, deciding not to ask the question he had wanted to because of the man's demeanor. He watched the man hurry away before heading back into his apartment. He only took a look at the address tag when he was in the living room and standing by his work desk.

Studio Donga.

LA, California.

Adam frowned, he recognized that name. It was an animation studio. He wondered if he had ordered some merchandise and had forgotten about it.

He put the cardboard box on the table before using his pencil knife to open it up. Inside the box, there was a folded piece of paper and a figurine of the company's mascot, a blue bear with wide black button eyes. Adam hesitated for a bit, wondering what this was all about. After staring at the box for what seemed like an eternity, he picked the folded piece of paper and slowly unfolded it.

Dear Adam Taylor,

I hope the package reached you well, and you liked the small gift. I'm Amanda Lui, the head of the content acquisition team at Studio Donga.

On the behalf of the scouting team of Studio Donga, I would like to reach out to you concerning the adaptation of your comic, Here Comes Trouble. Your work was submitted to us in the West Bound college art showing by a student of the name, Assad Antigua. We've taken a liking to it and would like you to reach out to us by email (Content[at]StudioDonga.com) to set up a call to discuss the terms of operation for the adaptation if you're interested.

Amanda Lui,

Head of Content, Donga Studio.

Adam read the letter, and then he read it again and again. He felt that if he read it just enough times it would cease to exist, or that the joke would make itself clear with a reread. When it dawned on him that this was in fact, real, Adam wasn't sure what to do with himself. He let the letter drop to the floor before blinking a few times and taking deep breaths.

Donga studios wanted to adapt his comic book into a show. His show was going to have a comic book—he hopefully would, that was—Adam didn't want to get ahead of himself. He nibbled on his thumb's nail for a while, waiting for his heart to stop racing so that he could think clearly.

When he was calm, he started to mark off some of the points in his head.

Studio Donga wanted to adapt his comic book.

Assad had been the one to submit his work.

"Assad..." he trailed to himself feeling his face warm up. He wasn't sure if the younger man was aware of how much he had done for him with the small action. Adam remembered Assad pestering him for his portfolio, and even though he hadn't said what for Adam had assumed he wanted to just look at it or study it. So, this was what that was for. Adam paced around, wondering if it was okay to call Assad now, but he decided against it, knowing the younger man was probably in a lecture right now.

The brown-haired man closed his eyes, deciding that he would wait for Assad to get back so that they could talk.

I should work a bit before he gets back... Adam thought to himself, looking over at his computer before deciding to take a seat by his desk and get to work. If I can work fast enough maybe, I can get a new chapter out early. He started doing some work as he waited for Assad to get back home. Adam couldn't do much for the younger man, but the least he could do was update his favorite comic.