Pondering over all of the old memories of him and Alexa on his way home had subconsciously made Adam start running down the street to get home to her. He was eager to make things right. Couldn't wait to see her, to apologize. To make up for everything, for how he'd been so cold, and such an insensitive ass. Apathetic.

He got to his building and ran up the front steps, then violently shook the front door trying to get it open. When it finally gave, he quickly made his way up the stairs, tripping once or twice. He got to the third floor, his heart pounding, and jogged down the hallway to his door, 13C.

Please be awake, please be awake, he thought as he battled with his keys, jingling one in the deadbolt then another in the doorknob. He swung it open, making the hinges screech, hoping to see Alexa sitting on the couch, waiting for him as well. But he didn't. All the lights were off, except for one above the sink in the kitchen around the corner from the living room, casting a blue fluorescent glow and making shadows on the walls.

"Dammit."

He could barely make anything out, just the outline of the dartboard on the closet door and the white block letters of the street sign hung up on the wall of the living room.

E. 17TH ST.

One of his buddies had stolen it as a joke in their junior year of college and given it to Adam for his birthday…

"Here, man. Happy birthday," said Scott, holding out the dented sign that now had a large red bow on it.

Adam looked at him, a confused expression on his face, and reached out to accept the gift.

"Um, thanks. I think."

"You like it?"

"Uh, yeah, of course dude. But, I mean, a gift certificate of some kind would have been just as equally appreciated," Adam retorted.

"Nah. This is better."

"Well if you say so," Adam said as they exchanged glances, triggering an uproar of laughter.

This was a bizarre memory, but one of Adam's favorites. He and Scott had been friends since the first grade, but they hadn't spoken much over the last year or so.

Once his eyes had adjusted, Adam made his way into the kitchen and turned on the light, which flickered, reminding him to change the bulb. He open the fridge and pulled out a beer, twisting off the cap and leaning against the counter. As he took a sip, he felt a slow seethe begin to rise within him, pissed that he hadn't made it home in time. His anger, growing stronger and more intense. But he shook it away. He couldn't let himself get like that. Not anymore. He wouldn't let his anger fuck things up any more than it already had. Wouldn't let it jeopardize his relationship with Alexa.

He put his beer on the counter and walked across the living room over to the bedroom. It was dark but he could hear her breathing. She was dead asleep. Carelessly leaning against the doorframe, he glanced over to the right side of the room to his bedside table, trying to make out the red glow of the alarm clock.

12:24am

He squinted, letting his eyes get used to the darkness. The red light from the clock slowly illuminated the room and Alexa's body; she was on her side facing away from him, her shadow being casted on the wall next to the bed. Her body was slowly moving up and down as she breathed in and out. Adam found himself growing jealous of how peaceful she was. He decided not to wake her up, not wanting to disturb her.

He left the bedroom, closing the door but leaving it open just a crack, and walked into his darkroom. This was where he found his own peace. He had installed it himself as soon as he'd moved in 4 years ago; it was originally a large closet, but he had found a better use for it. Alexa had helped him, although she knew hardly anything about photography, by painting the walls, ceiling, and cabinets black.

He flipped the switch on the wall and the safe-light turned on, lighting up the entire space, giving everything a red glow. He still had some photos soaking in water from earlier; rolling up the sleeves of his blue striped shirt, he removed them from the bin, shook them off, and hung them on a line with clothes pins.

Then he dropped one on the floor.

"Shit."

He bent down to pick it up and as he did he noticed an old roll of film on the floor next to one of the cabinets. He picked it up and turned it in his hands, trying to recall how old it was. He couldn't remember so he developed it. He was in there for quite some time, but he didn't know how long, not really focusing on what he was doing. Having gone through this process so many times before, he could do it without paying much attention. When it came time to place the photo paper in the developer solution, he stood over the bin, staring into it, trying to make out an image.

He suddenly came face to face with Alexa. The image was still cloudy but he recognized one thing immediately, her eyes. Even in black and white, he could picture her gorgeous green eyes.

He carefully watched as the rest of the photo developed, her hair, her freckles, her smile; she was in mid-laugh. He removed the photo and finished processing it, then hung it on the line as he had done with the others. He leaned against one of the cabinets and stared at the photograph. Just stared, his eyes moving over her face again and again. God, she was beautiful. He felt so lucky to have her and hated himself for not having appreciated it.

He looked down at his watch.

1:49am

He had lost track of time. He let out a long yawn and, with a sigh, walked out of the darkroom and into the bedroom. Alexa hadn't even moved. He somehow felt responsible for her being so exhausted lately. He'd put her through a lot. Jesus, how could he not have realized what he'd done to her until tonight?

He walked over to his side of the bed and took off his blue button-down but kept on his white t-shirt, then undid his belt and took off his jeans, carelessly tossing them on the floor, leaving a pile in front of his dresser. He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over, resting his arms on his legs, his hands running through his messy dark hair. He suddenly felt just as exhausted as he imagined Alexa must have felt. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and yawned again, loudly. He turned around, hoping that he hadn't disturbed Alexa's sleep. But she just lay there, breathing in and out, peaceful.

Adam slowly pulled his legs up onto the bed, lying his head on his pillow. He closed his eyes trying to drift away into a sleep as deep as Alexa's, but found it nearly impossible. He kept racking his brain for what to say to her when she woke.

I'm so sorry.

I don't know why I've been acting this way.

I've been such an ass lately.

You must hate me.

I know I've put you through a lot.

I hope you can forgive me.

I'm sorry. I feel terrible. I love you.

He couldn't think of the right things to say or how to say them. Adam was never really any good at communicating. Sure, he could retort with a sarcastic comment in less than .8 seconds, but he was never the kind of guy that was able to vocally express his emotions. To be able to open up to someone was a very difficult thing for him to do. He had a wall built up, guarding him from growing too attached to anything or anyone. Alexa was the only person in his life he had ever felt remotely comfortable discussing such things with. Maybe because she was the only one that had ever tried hard enough to reach out to him. She certainly made her efforts to climb over the wall he'd built up, dismantling it brick by brick. But lately he'd been trying to repair that wall, making it taller and stronger. But Alexa was growing tired of climbing, tired of trying to tear it down. And Adam was finally beginning to understand how exhausting it must have been for her.