My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 164: Please... Don’t Hate Me

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His fingers tightened just a bit against my sides, grounding himself as he spoke faster, like he was scared to stop for fear of losing his nerve entirely.

"And by the time I realized how stupid my actions were, you already hated me. And honestly, rightfully so. My friends were ganging up on you, making things worse, and I couldn’t just... stop it all. Not suddenly. I knew no one would miss it, and they’d start asking questions I didn’t know how to answer. So I kept being the same jerk because if I backed off too quickly, it would seem odd, and I was too cowardly to admit why I wanted to back off."

He suddenly paused, breath shaking as he looked down at me, his green eyes raw and vulnerable in a way I had never seen. The hallway felt cramped again, the air thick with everything he had just confessed, years of cruelty twisted into desperate self-defense.

My chest ached under the weight of it all, realizing the pain he caused came from feelings he didn’t know how to handle.

Adrien ran his hand through his hair, exhaling a shaky breath, as if that confession had emptied something inside.

"I know this sounds crazy," he whispered, his voice softening, almost pleading. "I get that I don’t deserve even a second of your understanding after all I’ve done. You don’t have to say anything right now. Just... please, Noah. Don’t hate me. Not more than you already do."

He looked so lost at that moment-confused, genuinely scared, with his broad shoulders slightly hunched as if bracing for my rejection.

Those sharp features I once feared were softened by vulnerability, his gaze darting between my eyes and my mouth, like he was still reeling from our kiss and worried it might have been the only one he would ever get.

But I couldn’t bring myself to hate him. Not anymore. Not after seeing him like this, so exposed and trembling with the worry that I’d turn away. The anger and hurt still bubbled beneath the surface, but they felt distant, muffled by the warmth spreading through me from his honesty and the way he looked at me like I held his entire world.

I opened my mouth, trying to gather my jumbled thoughts into something that might ease the fear I saw etched across his face. "Adrien, I-"

But then, the sudden sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, cutting me off.

His body went rigid against mine, eyes widening in pure panic for a moment. Just like that, he stepped back, putting space between us like we’d been caught doing something wrong and maybe, in a twisted way, we had.

His hands dropped to his sides; shoulders squared instinctively into that familiar guarded stance, that vulnerability disappearing behind a mask of casual indifference so fast it made my heart ache. He turned halfway towards the approaching sound, shoving his hands into his pockets as if nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just bared his soul against the wall while my lips still tingled from his.

I leaned against the wall for a moment longer, my pulse racing, cheeks hot as the footsteps drew closer, probably Mom or his dad coming up from downstairs, completely unaware of the earthquake that just shattered everything between us.

The air still felt charged, thick with unspoken words, and I wrapped my arms around myself, desperately trying to calm the tremble in my hands while Adrien stood a careful distance away, his gaze fixed on the floor, jaw clenched, as if he, too, was struggling to pretend that the world hadn’t just tilted off its axis.

Mrs. Milton appeared at the end of the corridor, her sensible heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she approached, balancing a silver tray in her hands. The faint smell of chamomile wafted ahead of her, warm and comforting, completely contrasting with the chaos swirling in my chest.

She slowed when she noticed us, her gaze shifting between my face and Adrien’s, taking in our flushed cheeks and rigid postures. If she noticed anything odd, she didn’t say a word. Instead, her expression softened, sympathy washing over her features as she offered me a gentle smile.

"Oh, Noah...sweetheart," she said softly, her voice low and cautious as if afraid of startling me. "I was really hoping to find you awake."

She held the tray out slightly, revealing a porcelain teacup, steam curling lazily into the air. "I brought you some tea. Something mild. I thought it might help you feel steadier after feeling so unwell last night."

I opened my mouth but hesitated, caught between the wall, Adrien’s closeness, and the echo of his words from moments ago. I swallowed hard and forced myself to focus on her instead. "I-I’m fine," I said, my voice coming out much thinner than I wanted. "Thank you. That’s really nice of you, ma’am."

She nodded, clearly not convinced but too polite to argue, and set the tray down on the small table by the wall. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment, filled with quiet concern, before she brightened just a little.

"Maybe you’d like to enjoy it with your boyfriend," she suggested gently. "Ethan’s in the sitting room. He’s been waiting for you."

The name hit me like a glass dropping.

Ethan... was here?

My stomach twisted, a sharp wave of panic slicing through the fog in my mind as the weight of that sank in. Adrien’s body went completely still beside me. The air shifted subtly, tension snapping tight like a pulled wire.

Mrs. Milton, blissfully unaware of the emotional landmine she’d just stepped on, smiled at me again and gave a small nod. "Take your time," she said softly, already turning away. "I’ll leave the tea here for you."

As she walked off down the hallway, her footsteps fading, the silence she left behind felt deafening.

I stood there, staring at the tray without really noticing it, my thoughts racing in a hundred directions at once. Ethan was downstairs. Adrien was right in front of me. My heart was still pounding from something I didn’t quite understand yet, something too big and complicated to unpack all at once.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze.

Adrien’s expression had shifted; his jaw was clenched, eyes darker now, as if he had slammed a door shut deep inside himself. He wasn’t looking at me with anger, precisely, but there was something unsettling there, something raw and unresolved.

And suddenly, I understood.

He was jealous. All those times he was upset and mad about Ethan and me... he had been jealous.

Which meant Gigi was right the whole time.

God, why was I so stupid?