Chapter 05
The world throbbed with a dull ache, each breath a struggle against a furnace raging within. Adrian felt himself burning, adrift in a sea of feverish dreams. He vaguely registered Sarah's gentle touch, the cool damp cloth on his forehead. Her voice, a soothing murmur, faded into the background noise of his illness.
When he finally surfaced from the delirium, the world was still blurry, the room bathed in a soft, golden glow. His throat felt like sandpaper, and a hacking cough escaped his lips. A figure stirred beside him, and Liam emerged from the shadows, concern etched on his face.
"Mr. Thorne?" Liam's voice was a welcome sound in the disorienting silence. "You're awake."
Adrian attempted a nod, wincing at the sharp pain that lanced through his head. "H-how long?" he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Two days," Liam replied, his expression unreadable. "Sarah called an ambulance after leaving you at your apartment. You have a bad case of the flu."
A wave of guilt washed over Adrian. He remembered the drunken stupor, the blurry image of Sarah, and the desperate call he'd made. Shame burned in his throat, but he couldn't bring himself to speak.
Liam seemed to sense his internal turmoil. He placed a cup of water by the bedside table and helped Adrian sit up with a gentle hand on his back. "Drink this," Liam instructed, his voice firm yet kind.
Adrian obeyed, the cool water easing the dryness in his throat. As he sipped, he stole a glance at Liam. He looked tired, his usually sharp eyes shadowed with concern.
"Y-you shouldn't be here," Adrian managed, the words slurred with illness. "You have work—"
Liam cut him off with a soft smile. "Work can wait, Mr. Thorne. You're not well."
He busied himself around the room, straightening the crumpled bedsheets and fluffing the pillows. Adrian noticed a fragrant bowl of soup placed on the nightstand and a pile of clean clothes neatly folded on a chair.
"I… I don't understand," Adrian croaked, confusion battling the remnants of his fever.
Liam glanced back, a hint of amusement softening his gaze. "Sarah mentioned you're not exactly a domestic wizard. So, I took the liberty of making some soup and putting your clothes through the… 'wash cycle.'"
Adrian's face flushed. He remembered the phone call, his fumbled explanation. Liam must have known he was lying. Shame battled with a strange sense of gratitude.
Later that night, as the fever raged and chills wracked his body, Liam surprised him again. He removed his shirt, his movements efficient and devoid of self-consciousness, and slipped it over Adrian's shivering form.
"This should help," Liam murmured, settling into the chair beside the bed.
Adrian lay there, enveloped in the warmth of Liam's shirt and the unexpected comfort of his presence. He wanted to apologize, to explain his outburst at the bar, but the words wouldn't come. He simply let sleep claim him once again, the image of Liam's silhouette, a silent guardian in the dim light, etched into his memory.
When Adrian woke up the next morning, the fever had broken. The room was empty, but a note lay on the nightstand: "Gone to work. Soup in the microwave. Feel better." The signature simply read "Liam."
Adrian stared at the note, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He had been vulnerable, exposed, yet Liam had chosen to stay. Had he overstepped boundaries? Or had he, inadvertently, opened a door he never intended to? The answer remained veiled, hidden behind Liam's enigmatic gaze. He reached for the soup, the warmth radiating through the mug a small comfort in the face of the uncertainty that lay ahead. He knew their connection had taken an unexpected turn, and he couldn't ignore the questions that lingered unanswered. But as he sipped the soup, a single thought echoed in his mind: the journey had taken a dramatic turn, and he was no longer in control. Now, he had to decide whether to embrace the unknown or retreat back to the cold reality he knew.
The following days after his illness were a blur of recuperation and a strange, unspoken tension between Adrian and Liam. Sarah had continued to check in on him, her concern genuine and free of any romantic undertones. Adrian, overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events, retreated back into a shell of professionalism, avoiding any personal interaction with either of them.
He threw himself back into work, diving headfirst into a new project presentation. But the usual spark was missing, his focus constantly drifting to the memory of Liam's warmth against his skin, the gentle touch of his hand as he helped him drink the soup.
One evening, as he was leaving the office late, he saw Liam standing by the elevator, his expression unreadable. Adrian hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. Breaking the silence felt like taking a leap of faith, venturing into uncharted territory.
"Liam," he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Liam turned around, surprise flickering in his eyes. "Mr. Thorne," he replied, his tone formal, mirroring the distance Adrian had imposed.
"I… I wanted to thank you," Adrian continued, forcing himself to meet Liam's gaze. "For everything you did when I was sick."
Liam remained silent for a moment, his gaze holding a depth that sent shivers down Adrian's spine. "It was nothing," he finally said, his voice low and neutral.
The elevator doors opened behind them, prompting a decision from Adrian. He couldn't stand the suffocating formality any longer. He took a deep breath and blurted out, "Liam, why did you…"
He trailed off, unable to finish his question. Why did Liam stay by his side? Why did he offer comfort that went beyond professional duty?
Liam seemed to sense his internal struggle. He took a step closer, closing the distance between them. In a soft voice, almost a whisper, he said, "Sometimes, Mr. Thorne, seeing someone in need is all the reason you need to help."
His words echoed in the silence, leaving both of them suspended in a moment of heavy anticipation. Adrian felt his heart hammering against his ribs, yearning to break down the walls he'd built around himself. But the fear of rejection, the fear of jeopardizing everything he'd worked for, held him back.
Just as the elevator doors were about to close, Liam reached out and gently touched Adrian's arm. The brief contact sent a jolt through Adrian, a spark igniting in the silence.
"Get well soon, Mr. Thorne," Liam said, his voice barely audible over the elevator's hum.
The doors closed, leaving Adrian standing alone in the dimly lit lobby. He stared at the closed elevator doors, the echo of Liam's words and the lingering warmth of his touch resonating within him. He knew he couldn't leave things unsaid any longer. The fear was still there, but so was a newfound determination to face the truth, his truth, and to see where it might lead.
As he turned to leave, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text message from Sarah: "Hope you're feeling better! Just wanted to say thanks for dinner last night. It was nice to get to know you outside of work."
Adrian read the message, a bitter taste settling in his mouth. Sarah was kind, intelligent, everything a man could ask for – everything he used to think he wanted. But now, the image of Liam's concerned face, the warmth of his touch, filled his mind. He realized with a jolt of clarity that his path wasn't as straightforward as he'd once believed. His heart yearned for something more, something he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge before.
He stood there, caught in the crossroads of his emotions, the weight of his choices pressing down on him. He had to choose: hold onto the familiar comfort of the past or embrace the uncertainty of the unknown, the path that led towards Liam, and risk it all for a chance at something more.