My Type of Socializing | ✓

Chapter 15

It has been about two weeks since Adam and Assad had become—err—whatever they became. Adam wasn't too sure. He hadn't asked Assad out, and Assad hadn't asked him out either, so they were not boyfriends. They were just men that happened to spend a lot of time together and kiss at night.

They kissed and touched a lot, but like Assad promised they never crossed the line to full-on sex. Adam would have to use his words one day to say that he was ready for that, so for now, that was all they did.

"Are you working?" Adam looked up from his computer when he heard Assad's voice. The man had wandered into the living room, giving Adam a smile before wandering to the man's kitchenette. "You've been on your computer all day."

Adam blinked, realizing that he had been staring. He looked away, feeling his face warm up. "I have to send over the concept-art."

"Ah," Assad said as the sound of water being poured into a glass filled the air. Assad was on a brief holiday now. He'd submitted his work for the term, and now had a lot of time on his hands which he spent around Adam—talking, sleeping, and sometimes whining that he wasn't being paid enough attention. The whole ordeal has reminded Adam that he was, in fact, the older one.

"Do you think you'll ever have to go to California to work on-site?" Assad said, making Adam look at him again. The younger man was now sitting by the small dining table with his eyes fixated on the thick curtains Adam had draped over the living room's windows.

"I think so," Adam said. "But just for a few days at a time. They said I can work remotely if they can mail equipment to me," Adam explained and Assad hummed, resting his head on the surface of the wooden table. The folks at Donga studios had been polite do far. He had come clean about his social issues, and to his surprise, had been met with support. Apparently, his condition wasn't that uncommon with people in his industry, so they were able to offer him work from home options.

Adam's eyes softened as he realized that sooner or later, he would have to see a therapist about his issue. The idea made him uneasy, but he knew it would become necessary.

"How sad is it that when I have time you're drowning in work, and when I'm drowning in work, you're not busy?" Assad asked with a pout, changing the conversation with ease, and pulling Adam out of his thoughts. Adam looked at him with a blank look.

"I don't know," the older man sighed as his shoulders slouched. He did want to spend time with Assad, but he was busy.

"My deadline is tomorrow, so at least my weekend is free," Adam said after a while of being quiet.

Assad seems to cheer up at this, sitting up before pulling his phone from the pocket of his cotton pants. "How about we go to a bar on Saturday?"

"You still can't drink," Adam retorted, reminding the younger man that he was twenty years old.

Assad rolled his eyes, waving his head over his head as he said, "I told you already. If I tip, no one asked me questions."

Adam remained quiet, not having anything to say to that. A question popped up in his head, and he contemplated it for a while before asking. "Is the bar... quiet?" Adam's face grew warm as he realized what a stupid question that was. It was a bar. Why would he expect it to be quiet? He swallowed the air in his throat, feeling conflicted. He wanted to spend time with Assad, but he didn't want to be put in a situation that would poke at his social anxiety.

"No, but we can rent a private booth," Assad said, making Adam look up at him. "Don't worry, I wouldn't take you anywhere I didn't think you could handle," Assad said, offering Adam a smile that warmed his insides and made his heart leap.

"T-thanks," Adam stuttered, looking back at his screen. Assad seemed to have things under control, so he decided not to worry too much about it.

Adam kept working on his concept art, occasionally looking over at Assad who was now typing away on his phone. Probably chatting with friends. Adam thought, looking away from him.

"Hey, Adam."

"Hmm?" the brown-haired man looked back at Assad who was now staring straight at him. He had a serious look on his face and for a minute Adam was worried.

"Are we dating?" The younger man sounded unsure of himself. He shuffled in his chair, trying his best to keep eye contact with Adam but his gaze kept falling to the table. Adam wasn't doing any better. The man's jaw hung low and his brows had knitted into a confused frown.

Assad rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, I got it. Not dating then," he said picking up his phone again.

"Wait!" Adam said, making Assad look up again. "I didn't say that," Adam said, feeling his heart pound against his ribs.

"But your face..." Assad trailed, chuckling a bit. His laughter was missing something—the shine in his eyes. He looked sad.

"I was just shocked. That's all," Adam said, trying his best to mend the situation. "You said it out of nowhere." He looked down at the sticky note on his table, feeling his brows attempt to frown in confusion again.

"I was talking to friends and they asked about you." Assad slouched on the dining table chair. "I was about to type 'boyfriend' and I realized we had never actually talked about it," Assad explained, and Adam looked over at him, feeling a lump in his throat. Damn it. He scolded himself. He needed to use his words. This wasn't the time to go mute.

"Do you... want to date me?" Assad asked, breaking the awkward silence that had filled the void.

"Y-yeah," Adam croaked, feeling a wave of happiness rush through him. "I would like that."

He would indeed like that a lot.

The edge of Assad's lips twitched into a smile. "Okay," he said, nodding and licking his lips. "Boyfriends," he said more to himself than at Adam. He picked up his phone again, and Adam's heart leaped as he imagined the man calling him his boyfriend in whatever group chat that he was on.

Boyfriends. Adam thought as he looked away from Assad. He picked up his e-pencil again, wondering why such a mundane word could fill him with so much warmth and happiness.

Assad was his boyfriend.