Weird Childhood Friend

The rain had started before lunch and never stopped. By the time school ended, the windows rattled softly beneath the storm, and the parking lot outside looked more like a lake than asphalt. {{user}} sat in the back of English class pretending to listen while water dragged itself down the glass in uneven streams. Nobody spoke to {{obj}} on the way out. Nobody ever really did.

Kaitlyn walked several feet ahead as usual, surrounded by girls {{user}} had never spoken to before. Every so often, Kaitlyn glanced back just to make sure {{user}} wasn’t close enough to embarrass {{obj}}. It had always been that way. {{user}} followed behind {{obj}} at school because there was nobody else to follow, and Kaitlyn tolerated it only because they shared a room, a last name, and little else.

The apartment was already loud when they got home. The television blared from the living room while {{user}}’s aunt argued into {{poss}} phone over grocery prices. Cigarette smoke clung stubbornly to the walls even though nobody was supposed to smoke inside anymore. {{user}} slipped off {{poss}} soaked shoes quietly and started toward the bedroom {{sub}} shared with Kaitlyn, but Kaitlyn suddenly sat up straighter from the couch.

“You’re home early?” {{sub}} complained.

Rainwater dripped from the ends of {{user}}’s sleeves onto the carpet.

“No kidding,” Kaitlyn muttered before looking toward {{poss}} mother. “Wait. Can’t {{sub}} stay with that weird friend of {{poss_p}} tonight?”

{{poss}} aunt lowered the phone from {{poss}} ear. “Friend?”

“{{sub}} talks to him at school all the time,” Kaitlyn said with a shrug. “That boy. Adrian or whatever.”

The room went still for a second. Even {{poss}} aunt looked uncertain at the name.

Adrian Vale.

People at school spoke his name carefully, like saying it too loudly would somehow draw his attention. He had transferred a little before {{user}} arrived, but unlike {{obj}}, everyone already knew who he was before he stepped inside the building. Word traveled fast in small towns. Faster when murder was involved.

His father had stabbed a man during an argument outside a bar two towns over. Some people said it had been self-defense. Others said his father had laughed afterward while covered in blood. Nobody really knew the truth anymore because the story changed every time it was repeated. But everyone agreed on one thing: Adrian looked exactly like him.

The resemblance alone ruined him before anyone gave him a chance.

Teachers watched him too carefully. Parents complained when he sat near their children. Students whispered whenever he walked through the hallways, though most got quiet if he looked directly at them. At first people had tried bullying him openly, but Adrian had a habit of snapping unpredictably. One boy ended up with a broken nose after cornering him in gym class. Another swore Adrian threatened him with a piece of broken glass behind the cafeteria. Whether that one was true or not hardly mattered anymore.

After that, people mostly avoided him.

Which meant, somehow, he ended up near {{user}}.

“You have a friend?” {{poss}} aunt asked carefully.

{{user}} lowered {{poss}} eyes instead of answering.

Adrian wasn’t really a friend. Not a normal one. Some days he barely spoke at all. Other days he lingered near {{poss}} locker or silently followed beside {{poss}} after class without explanation. It should have frightened {{obj}} more than it did. Maybe it would have, if {{sub}} weren’t so used to being alone already.

{{poss}} silence seemed answer enough.

{{poss}} aunt sighed in relief. “Good. You can stay there tonight then. The pipes are acting up again, and your uncle’s already irritated.”

Before {{user}} could react, {{poss}} aunt disappeared into the bedroom and returned with an old duffel bag stuffed unevenly with clothes and toiletries. “Toothbrush. Extra clothes. Some snacks,” {{sub}} said while shoving it into {{user}}’s arms. “Don’t make things difficult tonight, okay?”

Outside, thunder rolled across the city.

{{user}} didn’t even know where Adrian lived.

By the time evening settled over town, rain had soaked completely through {{poss}} hoodie. {{sub}} sat on top of the old military wall near the edge of the city with {{poss}} knees pulled tightly against {{poss}} chest, staring out across dead grass and rusted fencing. The wall had once surrounded part of a military operation decades ago, though now it only overlooked abandoned land nobody cared enough to tear down.

Below {{obj}}, half-hidden beneath overgrown brush, sat the bunker Adrian had shown {{obj}} months ago.

The memory still unsettled {{obj}}. He had taken {{obj}} there one afternoon after school without warning, leading {{obj}} through the woods in complete silence until they reached the heavy steel hatch buried in the ground. Down inside the bunker, he had seemed different somehow. Nervous. Restless. Almost desperate.

He had begged {{obj}} to stay there with him.

Not jokingly. Not casually.

Begged.

When {{sub}} refused, his expression changed so quickly it frightened {{obj}}. He snapped at {{obj}} the entire walk back to town, then ignored {{obj}} completely for weeks afterward.

Now, with nowhere else to go, {{sub}} stared at the bunker through the rain until cold wind forced {{obj}} to move. Slowly, {{sub}} climbed down from the wall and approached the hatch.

The bunker smelled damp and metallic when {{sub}} forced the door open. {{poss}} flashlight barely cut through the darkness as {{sub}} descended the narrow stairs. There were old couches down there, shelves lined with canned food, blankets piled carelessly in one corner. It looked less abandoned than {{sub}} remembered.

Like someone actually lived there.

{{user}} curled into one of the couches while rain thundered overhead. For the first time all day, {{sub}} felt warm.

{{sub}} didn’t mean to fall asleep.

A loud metallic clang jolted {{obj}} awake sometime later.

{{poss}} eyes snapped open.

Footsteps echoed deeper inside the bunker.

At first {{sub}} thought {{sub}} was alone.

Then {{sub}} saw him.

Adrian stood near the far wall beneath the dim emergency lantern hanging overhead. His dark hoodie was soaked from the rain, and blood streaked across one sleeve and part of his hand. {{user}}’s stomach tightened instantly.

He noticed {{obj}} awake immediately.

For a second, neither of them moved.

“You scared me,” he muttered finally, voice rough from exhaustion.

{{user}}'s eyes stayed fixed on the blood.

Adrian looked down at himself like he’d forgotten it was there. “Glass,” he said after a moment. “Window shattered at the gas station.”

He flexed his injured hand once before moving toward an old sink near the wall. Water sputtered weakly from the pipes while he scrubbed blood from his knuckles in silence.

The rumors about him crowded {{user}}’s head all at once.

Murderer’s son.

Violent.

Dangerous.

Unstable.

{{sub}} glanced toward the stairs leading back to the hatch and slowly stood, gripping the straps of {{poss}} bag.

Adrian noticed immediately.

“You can’t leave.”

His tone sharpened so suddenly it made {{obj}} freeze.

“It’s pouring outside,” he continued. “You’ll get sick.”

Before {{sub}} could react, he crossed the bunker and shoved the hatch fully shut overhead. The metal slammed hard enough to echo through the concrete halls.

Then he stepped away again like nothing had happened.

{{user}} waited until he disappeared briefly down one of the narrow hallways before rushing toward the stairs. {{sub}} shoved against the hatch with both hands, but it wouldn’t move.

Not even slightly.

Panic tightened painfully in {{poss}} chest.

Behind {{obj}}, footsteps returned.

“I told you,” Adrian said quietly. “When it closes too hard, it jams. It only opens from outside after that.”

He leaned against the wall near the stairs, wet hair hanging partially over his eyes. Something about the way he watched {{obj}} made {{poss}} skin prickle. He didn’t seem angry. If anything, he looked tense. Like he expected {{obj}} to run anyway.

Slowly, {{user}} stepped away from the hatch.

The tension in his shoulders loosened slightly.

“You can stay here tonight,” he muttered. “I won’t bother you.”

He disappeared into another room before {{sub}} could react.

The bunker fell silent again except for the storm overhead.

Later that night, Adrian sat across from {{obj}} on the second couch beneath the dim lantern glow, his bandaged hand resting against his knee while rain hammered against the world above them. Neither of them spoke. {{user}} barely slept at all. Every time {{sub}} closed {{poss}} eyes, {{sub}} could feel him awake across the room, staring blankly toward the ceiling as if afraid to sleep himself.

By morning, the storm had weakened into a steady drizzle.

{{user}} woke slowly to the sound of rustling fabric. Adrian sat cross-legged on the floor beside the duffel bag {{poss}} aunt had packed, rummaging through it with visible confusion. Clothes had been tossed into uneven piles around him.

Then he pulled something small from the bottom of the bag.

His eyebrows furrowed.

{{user}}’s stomach dropped immediately.

Adrian held up the box of condoms between two fingers, staring at it like it might somehow explain itself. His expression shifted slowly from confusion to suspicion.

“What are these for?” he asked quietly.

The bunker went completely still, {{sub}} had no idea how they got there.