Adrian stood by Ethan's hospital bed, staring down at the man who lay so still, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.
The machines beeped softly in the background, the only indication that life still pulsed within Ethan's body. Adrian bit his lip, unsure of what he was even expecting as he gazed at Ethan's face.
He had seen Ethan's soul earlier—or at least, he thought he had. The translucent figure standing by the bed, watching him with concern, had felt so real, yet so impossible.
And now, with the room empty again, Adrian felt foolish. Was it just a fever dream? Had he imagined the entire encounter because of his exhaustion and the stress of everything that had happened?
He reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against the cold tal of the bed's railing. His voice, soft and uncertain, filled the room as he spoke. "Ethan... can you hear ?"
Silence.
Adrian swallowed, a lump forming in his throat as he tried again. "If you're really here... if what I saw was real... can you see ? Can you hear ?"
Still nothing.
His heart clenched, a deep sense of loneliness settling over him like a heavy blanket. It was ridiculous, talking to soone who couldn't respond. But what if Ethan really was there, in so form or another? What if the dreams were more than just fignts of his imagination?
"I keep dreaming about you," Adrian continued, his voice growing quieter. "Are they just dreams? Or are you really nearby, watching ?"
After he left his goal and passion...and married this man...Adrian had another type of hope of love from his new family...
However...
Adrian sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. He felt foolish, talking to the empty air like this, and yet... he couldn't shake the feeling that Ethan was sowhere close. It was irrational, but the connection he had felt in those dreams was too vivid to be dismissed easily.
"I must be losing my mind," Adrian muttered to himself, turning away from the bed.
He made his way to the small washroom attached to the hospital room, his movents slow and unsteady. The fever from earlier had drained him, leaving his body weak and aching. His limbs felt heavy, and the pounding in his head still hadn't fully subsided. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, taking in his pale face and the dark circles under his silver eyes.
He looked exhausted. He was exhausted.
Adrian quickly changed into a fresh set of clothes, feeling a little more human afterward, though the fatigue still weighed heavily on him. The cool water he splashed on his face helped a little, but not enough to shake the deep weariness in his bones. His legs felt like jelly as he walked back to the bed, collapsing onto it without even bothering to pull the covers up.
His body gave in to sleep almost imdiately.
The dream ca swiftly, wrapping around Adrian like a suffocating blanket. This ti, it wasn't the peaceful, surreal world of water where Ethan had always appeared to save him. No, this dream was different. It was darker. Colder.
Adrian found himself standing in a dimly lit basent, the air damp and stale. The faint sll of mildew filled his nose as he looked around, confusion settling in his chest. Why am I here? The surroundings felt eerily familiar, though he couldn't place why at first.
Then he saw him.
A small figure, huddled in the corner of the room, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. The boy couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old, with the sa long black hair and pale skin that Adrian had. The boy's clothes were tattered and dirty, and his thin body trembled with hunger and fear.
It was himself. Adrian's breath caught in his throat as he realized what he was seeing. This was his younger self—the child he had once been.
The boy whimpered, his small body shaking as he hugged himself tighter. Adrian's heart ached at the sight. He rembered this mont all too well. This was the day his father had locked him in the basent, punishing him for sothing that wasn't even his fault.
"Dad, please!" the younger Adrian had cried, his voice cracking with desperation. "I didn't an to—please let out!"
The mory hit Adrian like a punch to the gut, and he staggered forward, his hand reaching out instinctively toward the child version of himself. "No, no... it's okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "It wasn't your fault..."
But as he tried to approach the boy, he found himself unable to move. His legs felt like they were glued to the ground, his arms stuck at his sides. He struggled, panic rising in his chest as he watched the boy cry, his small body shaking with sobs. Adrian wanted to reach out, to comfort him, to tell him that it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't. He was trapped.
"Dad... I'm sorry," the younger Adrian cried, his voice a broken whisper. "I'm sorry..."
Adrian's heart shattered at the sound. He rembered how helpless he had felt back then—how no matter how much he begged, no one had co to help him. His father had left him there for hours, locked away like a disobedient dog. And all because Adrian had tried to stand up for himself.
In the dream, Adrian watched as his younger self curled up on the cold concrete floor, too weak to keep crying. His stomach growled with hunger, his throat parched from thirst. The child's face was streaked with tears, but eventually, exhaustion took over, and he closed his eyes, falling into a restless sleep.
Adrian's chest heaved with emotion as he tried to break free from whatever was holding him back. Why couldn't he move? Why couldn't he help his younger self?
He knew this mory all too well. This was the day Wryn had broken their mother's picture—the last picture they had of her. Adrian had pushed Wryn in a mont of anger, and his father had punished him for it. His father had called him an illiterate, stupid child, a worthless burden.
"Just like your mother," his father had sneered, his voice cold and hateful. "You're nothing but trouble."
The words echoed in Adrian's mind, bringing back the sting of those harsh insults. He had carried those scars for years, the weight of his father's words digging deep into his soul. Even now, as an adult, he felt their impact.
Tears pricked Adrian's eyes as he watched the scene play out in front of him, helpless to do anything but witness his own suffering. Why was he dreaming about this now? Why was his mind bringing him back to this painful mont?
A voice, soft and familiar, echoed in his ears.
"Why do you always let yourself drown?"
Adrian's breath caught in his throat. The voice—it was Ethan's. He whipped his head around, but there was no one there. No glowing figure, no translucent form. Just the darkness of the basent and the broken child on the floor.
"Ethan?" Adrian called out, his voice trembling. "Where are you?"
No answer ca. Only the oppressive silence of the dream remained, suffocating and cold.
Adrian looked back at his younger self, feeling the pain of the child's loneliness as if it were his own. It was his own. He had lived through it, and now he was reliving it in his dreams. The weight of that mory pressed down on him, threatening to crush him.
But then, just as the dream seed to consu him entirely, the darkness began to fade. The basent walls dissolved into mist, and the scene slowly disappeared, leaving Adrian standing alone in an empty, formless space.
He gasped for breath, his chest tight with emotion, but he was no longer trapped. The restraints that had held him were gone, and he could move again. Adrian looked around, his heart still racing from the intensity of the dream.
Then, a familiar voice spoke again, this ti clearer.
"You don't have to face it alone anymore."
Adrian turned, his eyes widening as he saw Ethan's glowing figure standing before him. The sa translucent form he had seen earlier in the hospital room, but now even more vivid. Ethan's expression was calm, his eyes filled with quiet understanding.
Adrian's lips parted, but no words ca out. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared at Ethan, unsure of what to say—unsure if this was real or just another dream.
Ethan stepped closer, his form flickering slightly. "You've been carrying this for a long ti," he said softly. "But you don't have to drown in it anymore."
Adrian's throat tightened, and for a mont, he felt like that child again, alone and broken. But Ethan's presence, even in this dreamlike form, brought a sense of comfort he hadn't felt in a long ti.
"I... I don't know how to stop drowning," Adrian whispered, his voice fragile.
Ethan smiled gently. "You won't have to. I'll be here to pull you out."
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