Skin and Secrets

THE WEIGHT

Derek Cross had stopped sleeping.

It wasn't insomnia, exactly. He was tired — bone tired, the kind of tired that lived in his marrow. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Adrian's face. Adrian at the dinner table. Adrian laughing with Nina. Adrian saying "You're still my brother" in a voice full of trust Derek had already broken.

So he stayed awake.

He worked late at his architecture firm, staring at blueprints until the lines blurred. He walked the city streets at midnight, his hands in his pockets, his collar turned up against the cold. He sat in his apartment, in the dark, and drank whiskey he didn't taste.

Anything to avoid the dream.

The dream was always the same.

Adrian stood in a doorway — the doorway of their childhood home, or maybe Adrian's house, or maybe a doorway Derek had never seen before. He was smiling. His hand was extended.

"Come in," Adrian said. "I've been waiting for you."

Derek walked toward him. But the doorway kept moving, kept receding, no matter how fast he walked. And Adrian's smile never changed — warm, trusting, utterly unaware.

Derek always woke before he reached him.

---

Tuesday morning, 2:47 AM.

Derek sat on his couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his phone on the cushion beside him. The screen was dark. No new messages from Vanessa. He had stopped replying to her texts three days ago.

We need to stop, he had said.

I know, she had said.

But she didn't stop. She kept texting. I miss you. I need you. Come over.

He didn't go.

He wanted to. God, he wanted to. Her body, her voice, the way she said his name — it was a drug, and he was an addict. But every time he reached for the phone, he saw Adrian's face.

You're still my brother.

He put the phone down and drank.

---

At 8 AM, Derek dragged himself to the office.

His assistant, a young woman named Chloe, handed him a stack of messages. "Your brother called. He wants to have lunch today."

Derek's stomach turned. "Did he say why?"

"No. Just said to call him back."

Derek took the messages and closed his office door.

He stood at the window, looking out at the city. The sky was gray. The streets were wet. Somewhere across town, Adrian was probably already at his desk, already working, already being the good brother Derek had never been.

He picked up the phone. Dialed.

"Adrian."

"Hey." Adrian's voice was warm, easy. "You free for lunch? There's something I want to talk to you about."

Derek's heart pounded. "What about?"

"Just... stuff. Brother stuff. Nothing bad."

Nothing bad. Adrian didn't know. He couldn't know.

"Yeah," Derek said. "I'm free."

"Great. Twelve-thirty. The place on Madison."

"I'll be there."

He hung up and stared at the phone.

He doesn't know, Derek told himself. He can't know.

But the guilt was a living thing, coiled in his chest, whispering: He knows. He's always known. He's just waiting for you to say it first.

---

At 12:15, Derek stood outside the restaurant.

He had changed his shirt three times. Shaved twice. He wanted to look like himself — the Derek who wasn't sleeping with his brother's wife, the Derek who deserved Adrian's trust.

He didn't know that man anymore.

The restaurant was small, quiet, the kind of place where conversations stayed private. Adrian was already at a table in the back, a glass of water in front of him, his phone face-down on the table.

He looked up as Derek approached. Smiled.

"Hey."

"Hey." Derek sat down. His hands were shaking. He put them in his lap.

Adrian studied him. "You look tired."

"I haven't been sleeping."

"Me neither."

They ordered. Sandwiches. Coffee. The waitress left.

"So," Derek said. "What did you want to talk about?"

Adrian leaned back. Ran a hand through his hair. He looked tired too — more tired than Derek remembered. There were new lines around his eyes.

"Vanessa and I," Adrian said, "are having problems."

Derek's heart stopped.

"You don't have to —" Adrian paused. "I'm not asking for advice. I just... needed to say it out loud. To someone."

Derek nodded. His mouth was dry.

"We haven't been happy for a long time," Adrian continued. "Maybe we never were. I don't know anymore." He looked at Derek. "You've seen us together. You know how it is."

Derek looked down at the table. "I didn't want to assume."

"You don't have to assume. It's true." Adrian sighed. "I'm not blameless. I've been distant. Working too much. Not... present."

Derek thought of Vanessa's body beneath his. The hotel room. The lies.

"Adrian," he said. His voice cracked.

Adrian looked at him. "What?"

Tell him, a voice screamed. Tell him now.

"I'm sorry," Derek said. "About you and Vanessa. That's... that's hard."

Adrian nodded. "Yeah. It is."

The waitress brought their food. The moment passed.

Derek picked up his sandwich. He wasn't hungry. He ate anyway.

---

After lunch, they walked out together.

The rain had stopped. The sun was trying to break through the clouds. Adrian put a hand on Derek's shoulder.

"Thanks for listening," he said.

"Always."

Adrian studied him for a moment. "Are you okay, Derek? You seem... off."

Derek forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired. Like I said."

"Take care of yourself." Adrian squeezed his shoulder. "You're my brother. I need you."

Derek nodded. He couldn't speak.

Adrian walked away, toward his office. Derek stood on the sidewalk, watching him go.

You're my brother. I need you.

The words echoed in his head.

He pulled out his phone. Scrolled to Vanessa's number.

We can't do this anymore, he typed. I'm serious this time. It's over.

He hit send before he could change his mind.

Then he turned off his phone and walked back to his empty office.

---

That night, Derek sat in the dark.

His phone was still off. He hadn't turned it back on. He didn't want to see Vanessa's reply — the tears, the anger, the promises she wouldn't keep.

He thought about Adrian. About the trust in his voice. About the way he had said "I need you" like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He thought about Vanessa. About the hotel room. About the way she felt in his arms, like coming home to a house that was already burning.

He thought about Nina. About her eyes — those sharp, assessing eyes. She knew something. She was hiding something. And he was too tired to figure out what.

He stood up. Walked to the window.

The city was glittering below him, full of people who weren't drowning in secrets.

He wondered what that felt like.

---

At 11 PM, he turned on his phone.

Seventeen messages from Vanessa.

Don't do this. Please. I love you. We can fix this. Derek. Answer me. Please.

He read them all. Didn't reply.

The last message was different.

If you won't talk to me, I'll come to you.

His blood went cold.

He looked at the time. 11:07 PM.

His doorbell rang.

---

Derek stood in his apartment, frozen.

The doorbell rang again. Then a knock. Then Vanessa's voice, low and urgent: "Derek. Open the door. I know you're in there."

He walked to the door. Pressed his forehead against the wood.

"Go home, Vanessa."

"Not until you talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Open the door."

He closed his eyes. His hand hovered over the lock.

Don't, he told himself. Don't let her in.

But he was weak. He had always been weak.

He opened the door.

---

Vanessa stood in the hallway, her coat pulled tight, her hair wet from the rain. Her eyes were red. Her mascara was smudged.

She looked beautiful. She looked broken.

"Derek —"

"Don't." He stepped back. Let her in. Closed the door behind her.

She stood in his living room, looking around. She had been here before — a dozen times, a hundred. But tonight, she looked like a stranger.

"I can't do this anymore," he said.

"You've said that before."

"This time I mean it."

She turned to face him. "Why? Because of Adrian? Because of what he said at lunch?"

Derek's stomach dropped. "How do you know about lunch?"

"I have my sources." She stepped closer. "Adrian told me. He said you had a good talk. He said you seemed sad. He's worried about you."

Derek laughed — a bitter, broken sound. "He's worried about me. While I'm sleeping with his wife."

Vanessa flinched. "Don't say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like it's dirty. Like it's just sex."

"Isn't it?"

"No." Her voice cracked. "It's not. You know it's not."

She reached for him. He stepped back.

"Vanessa —"

"I love you." She said it like a weapon. Like a plea. "I love you, and I don't care who knows it."

"You should care."

"I don't."

She kissed him.

He didn't kiss her back. He stood there, his arms at his sides, while her lips moved against his. She tasted like salt — tears, maybe, or rain.

"Please," she whispered against his mouth. "Please don't leave me."

He closed his eyes.

And he kissed her back.

---

Later — much later — she lay in his bed, asleep.

Derek sat on the edge, watching her. Her face was soft in sleep, younger, almost innocent. She looked like the woman he had fallen in love with. She looked like the woman who was destroying him.

He reached for his phone.

A text from Adrian: Thanks for lunch. I needed that. Love you, brother.

Derek stared at the words.

Love you, brother.

He typed back: Love you too.

Then he turned off the phone, lay down beside Vanessa, and stared at the ceiling until the sun came up.

He didn't sleep.

He didn't deserve to.