I get back to the apartment at eight in the evening, absolutely exhausted. I fumble with my keys in the hall and finally get the sticky lock to turn all the way. When I push the door the open, I find, to my slight surprise, that it's completely dark inside, not a single light on in the whole apartment.

I grope blindly for the light switch on the wall, letting my book bag slide from my shoulder into my hand. The switch clicks, there's a slight buzzing sound as old wires are flooded with electrical current, and the living room bulb flickers to life.

I cry out and jump back, startled by a figure laying stretched out in front of me on the couch.

“Magic's Might, Adam! You scared the hell out of me. Why are you just sitting in the dark?”

Adam is laying with his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He hardly glances at me as I shut the door and drop my bag onto a chair.

“It didn't seem worth the effort to get up and turn on the light when it started getting dark,” he replies.

My brow furrows. “How long have you been there?”

“What time is it?”

I glance at my watch. “Ten after eight.”

“About... four hours.”

“For Circe's sake, Adam. Have you even eaten anything all day?”

“I had breakfast.”

“You had a piece of toast. That hardly counts.” I'm worn out and just want to fall onto the couch and binge watch something on Netflix until I pass out, but I go to the little kitchenette anyway and start banging around in there, pulling out pans and searching through the fridge.

Adam suddenly sits up, guilt finally urging him into action for the first time in hours. “No, don't, you don't have to make anything. I'm fine, I'll do it myself.” He gets up off the couch and slinks into the kitchen, taking a pan out of my hand and putting it back in the cupboard, grabbing out a pot instead. He heads for the pantry cupboard and grabs a box of dry pasta.

I go back into the fridge anyways and start pulling out vegetables, dumping them onto the cutting board and grabbing a knife.

“Seriously, Adam, this is getting worse,” I say, without looking up from slicing the carrots. “You spend every moment that you aren't in classes just sitting around looking miserable. Every time I talk to you, I only get half-assed replies like your real thoughts are on a totally different planet—if you even notice I'm talking to you at all. I feel like I'm not living with my boyfriend anymore, I'm living with a ghost who can't even be bothered to haunt the place properly. And I wouldn't even mind all of that, except that you won't just tell me what the hell is going on.”

I hear the water turn off, the full pot being set on the stove top, and then a sigh from Adam.

“I know, I know. I'm sorry. I really am. I just... you've got so much on your own plate right now, I just don't think I should unload all of my own shit on you too.”

I turn around, knife still clutched in my hand, carrots forgotten.

“That's what I'm here for, Adam! That's what couples do! They talk about their problems with each other, they complain about things, and they work shit out together! Hell, maybe I can help you with whatever it is that's bothering you. Maybe if you'd just tell me, we could find a way to fix it.”

Adam's expression is pained, and he looks like he's fighting some inner battle.

“I don't think this is something you can fix, Felix,” he finally says after a long moment. “This is just something that I need to work through on my own.”

“Okay, fine,” I concede. “Work through it on your own. That's fine. But for Solomon's sake, at least tell me what it is!”

“Look, I don't want to talk about it right now. I'm tired, I think I'm just going to go to bed.”

Adam tries to walk past me to leave the kitchen, but I reach out and grab his arm to stop him.

“Oh no you're not. You're telling me what the fuck is going on, or so help me—” I realize I'm jabbing the knife at him in a vaguely threatening manner, so I drop it on the cutting board and let go of his arm. “Well, I'm not going to stab you, but I'll be pissed off. For days. Didn't you think that this weird little secret of yours is stressing me out too? You hardly talk to me, you never move from the couch unless you have to, you just turn away whenever I touch you—” I narrow my eyes at him, and the words that have been lurking in the back of my mind like some kind of boogeyman suddenly tumble out over my lips before I can stop them. “Do you want to break up with me?”

Adam's eyes go wide, and his mouth drops open in that way that makes my mom tell him to close it before a bird flies in and makes a nest. “What? No! No, not at all—you can't really think—”

I throw my hands up into the air. “Well, I don't know what else to think!”

Adam closes his eyes, and breathes deeply through his nose. “I haven't told you,” he says, without opening his eyes, “because I don't want you to think it's a problem I have with you. I don't want you to feel like it's your problem too, that it's your job to fix everything, or that you're somehow making it worse for me.”

“Making what worse for you?”

“It's not even a real problem, it's stupid. It's just in my head.”

“I don't give a flying fuck how stupid it is. It clearly is a real problem, because it's getting in the way of your ability to function on a higher level than a sea sponge.”

“I just... I just...” Adam opens his eyes and looks around the small apartment, as if searching for a way out of this conversation, or maybe for the ending of his sentence. “I just... don't know what I'm doing with my life.”

I stare at him for a moment, and then I burst out laughing. “That's it? Magic's Might, Adam, no one our age knows what they're doing with their lives!”

“That's not true,” he snaps, his cheeks flushing in irritation. “You and El and everyone else are all in a four year university, just a year away from completing your degrees. You all have declared majors, career goals, internships. You all know what you want to do, or at the very least the general field you want to do something in. And you've already got grad school all planned out. I'm finishing my third year at community college, and I still haven't found something I want to major in, let alone started looking at transferring to a four year. I have no skills, no interests, no job prospects! You'll be applying to law school after next year, and I'm what? Just going to sit around and hope that you won't get sick of me having no goals or achievements of any kind, supporting me as I leech off you?”

I quit laughing pretty much right away, because this is clearly a way bigger deal to Adam than it seems to me.

“Adam,” I say soothingly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he pulls away from me.

“I'm tired. I'm going to bed, okay?” He edges past me out of the kitchenette, crossing the living room and disappearing into our room down the hall.

I'm left standing there staring at the bedroom door, wondering if I should go after him or just leave him be, when my phone starts to buzz in my pocket.

I pull it out and see it's a call from Eleanor. I answer it.

“Where the fuck are you guys?!”

“What?” I ask, still a little rattled from the argument.

“I'm at the bar waiting for you assholes! Where are you?”

Oh, shit. “Christ, I'm sorry, Eleanor!” Did I really just say Christ? I'm even beginning to swear like Adam now. “I just got back from my Friday seminar, we're running a little late. I'm so sorry, but hold us a spot, we'll be right there, I swear!”

That’s right. We’re supposed to be celebrating Eleanor's 21st birthday tonight. And now I have to go remind Adam, come what may. I hang up and swear through clenched teeth. Then I hear a sound behind me, and spin around to see the pot of water on the stove boiling over, splashing all over the counter and the floor. I'm so fucking done with this day.