My Type of Socializing | ✓

Chapter 13

Adam knew Assad was home when he heard footsteps upstairs. His heart leaped in his chest, and the palm of the hand he had been using to draw started to feel sweaty. He was nervous, but he needed to talk to Assad—thank him properly.

He got up from his seat beside his work desk after giving himself a mental pep talk. Adam grabbed the box where the offer letter and Donga's company's mascot figurine was sitting in before making his way out of his apartment. He climbed up the stairs and walked over to Assad's door when he got to the younger man's floor.

Adam stared at the door for a bit before reaching out a balled fist to knock on it. He didn't have to repeat the action because Assad's voice was soon yelling at him.

"I'm coming!" it said, followed by the sound of rustling feet. The door creaked open soon after, and Assad popped his head out, smiling when he saw who was on the other end.

"Oh, Adam. I didn't think you would be awake," he said, pointing out that it was ten in the evening. Assad had gotten home late, and Adam had waited up for him. Adam just stared, not knowing what to say in response.

His gaze fell to the floor as he arranged his thoughts. "I got this in the mail," he said, looking back at Assad again. "It's from Donga studios," he said, watching as the younger man broke into a grin.

"They reached out to you!" Assad said, clearly knowing what the package was about. "Congrats!"

"Yes, they did," Adam said, balancing the box in one hand before reaching out to rub the back of his neck. "They said I should reach out to them if I'm interested in getting my comic animated."

Assad beamed at him. "Is that why you updated the comic today. You were happy?" he asked, and Adam blinked, feeling his face warm up.

"Y-yeah," he stuttered, not sure why he couldn't bring himself to say that he did it for Assad. It was a thank you present, but maybe it was a dumb one and that was why Assad hadn't put two and two together.

"Thank you," Adam forced himself to croak, remembering that he had come here to show Assad gratitude. "I wouldn't have ever dared to make a submission to them myself," he admitted. All the rejections from stating that his work was a bad mimic of Archie's had worn him down and caused multiple breakdowns.

"Don't thank me," Assad said, stepping aside so that Adam could walk into his apartment. "You deserve it."

Adam put the box down on the dining table before heading over to stand beside Assad who had moved to continue cutting the lettuce that he had set out on a chopping board.

"I wasn't too sure if they were looking for new shows, but I submitted your work anyway. Gosh, does that mean I'll be seeing your work on the screen soon? I can only imagine how wonderful it'll look—." Assad was rambling on in a chirpy voice now, and Adam couldn't keep up, so he just smiled and hugged himself as he listened to the knife continually make contact with the wooden board.

Assad had his hair done in a low ponytail to keep it away from the food, and he was wearing a brown jersey over shorts that exposed his hairy legs and well worked out thighs. Adam swallowed the spit in the back of his mouth before looking back at Assad's face. It barely helped. Assad had a great body and face. It wasn't fair. His strong jaw and thick brows that framed his deep-set eyes gave him a chiseled look, but there was a softness to his nose and shape of his full lips that hinted at his friendliness—

"Adam?"

The brown-haired man blinked, realizing that he had just been staring at Assad.

"I—" he started saying, but paused, feeling a lump in his throat. "I'm sorry," he finally managed, looking at the marble counter so that he wouldn't have to look Assad in the eyes.