My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 196: The Friend Of The Lost
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Rachel led us down a narrow hallway that had a faint smell of fried onions mixed with lemon cleaner. She kept apologizing as she turned on a single overhead bulb that barely lit the place.
The apartment was cozy but overflowing with the kind of clutter that builds up when life just keeps adding things without ever taking any away—magazines piled high on every surface, faded floral curtains tightly drawn against the snowy night, and a glimpse of a tiny kitchen through a beaded curtain that jingled as we walked by.
The sink was full of dirty dishes, laundry was spilling out of an overflowing basket by the door, and every wall seemed to be covered with old, yellowed photos and trinkets that must have been gifts at some point.
"Sorry about the mess," Rachel said, scooping a pile of unfolded towels off the sagging couch and tossing them onto an already overloaded armchair.
"I know you’re used to a different kind of living, Adrien. A fancy big house, staff, all that. I’ve been working night shifts at the diner down on Route Nine, and by the time I drag myself home, I barely have energy to zap some leftovers in the microwave, let alone tackle this mountain of laundry."
Adrien just smiled at her, looking calm and reassuring as he took off his snow-dusted coat. "It’s really okay. Honestly, it feels... lived in. Cozy."
I stayed quiet, because ’cozy’ wasn’t exactly the word I would’ve picked, but I felt that familiarity deep down. I grew up in places like this, not quite as cluttered...my father always yelled at me to clean the house whenever there was a slight speck of dirt, but it was definitely small and worn around the edges.
The clanking radiator in the corner, the soft hum of an old fridge, and the buzzing overhead light, they were the sounds of my childhood lullabies. After months of marble floors and endless halls at Oakfield, stepping into this space felt like slipping into an old sweater I didn’t realize I missed.
Rachel darted around, clearing a spot on the couch. "Sit, sit! Make yourselves at home. Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Water? Some orange juice? You both look half-frozen."
"Water would be great," I replied quickly, my throat a bit scratchy from the long, cold walk. "It was quite a trek."
She headed toward the kitchen, the beads clinking again, and Adrien and I sank into the couch. The cushions seemed to sigh under us, springs protesting like they hadn’t been sat on in ages. I shoved a stray throw pillow behind my back, trying not to think about the miles we trudged through the snow for this moment.
Suddenly, I noticed a soft whirring from the doorway. An elderly woman in a wheelchair rolled in slowly, a blanket draped over her lap, her silver hair styled in neat curls. Her sharp, pale blue eyes fixed on us with quiet curiosity. I gave her a polite smile. "Hi there."
She didn’t respond but continued to watch us, hands folded in her blanket. The silence stretched a bit too long, and I wondered if I had somehow upset her.
Yikes, old people really were strange...I guess people tend to get strange after spending a lot of decades on earth whether they wanted to or not.
Rachel came back in with two mismatched glasses of water, condensation already collecting on the sides.
"Here you go...sorry, no ice, the tray’s frozen solid." She handed them over and glanced at the older woman with a gentle, practiced affection. "That’s my mom. She had a stroke a few years back...she doesn’t talk anymore, not since the stroke a couple years back. But she hears and sees everything, right, Mama?"
Rachel reached over and smoothed a curl. The older woman’s gaze softened for just a moment.
I felt a sudden pang of sympathy in my chest. There was something about the quiet dignity in her stillness, the way she observed us without needing words, that made the room feel even smaller and more intimate.
Rachel settled into the armchair across from us, pushing aside a stack of mail to make room.
"Wow," she said, shaking her head as she really looked at Adrien. "I haven’t seen you since your tenth birthday party. That superhero theme...remember? You had the cape and everything."
Adrien smiled a bit shyly. "Honestly? Not really. I remember the cake had way too much blue frosting and I felt sick for two days, but all the guests are kind of a blur."
Rachel chuckled softly, a hint of sadness in her laugh. "You were way more interested in tearing open presents than talking to boring adults. Typical ten-year-old."
She leaned in, her eyes misting over. "But look at you now...all grown up, handsome as ever. Joanne would be so proud. God, she’d be thrilled to see what a man you’ve become."
Her voice cracked, and she pressed her fingers to her lips for a moment. "It was heartbreaking to lose her like that. Such a lovely, wonderful woman. Best friend I ever had." 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺
Adrien’s expression mirrored hers...soft, sad, and appreciative. He swallowed hard and managed a quiet, "Thank you."
The room was filled with that gentle ache for a few seconds, the radiator clanking as if trying to fill the silence. Outside, snow gently tapped against the window.
Finally, Rachel straightened up, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye with the sleeve of her cardigan.
"So," she said, her voice steadier now and curiosity taking over, "what brings you two to my door on such a snowy day? It’s not every day I have two teenagers showing up at my place in a snowstorm."
Adrien and I exchanged a quick glance and Adrien cleared his throat, it was half anxious, half determined and I felt the weight of the journal safely tucked in my backpack, just waiting for the moment when we’d finally ask the questions we had come all this way to voice.
Yeah. This was definitely going to be interesting.
