Ignorance In Pieces (3/?)
Title: Ignorance In Pieces (3/?)
Author: adamissexable
Rating: NC 17 language, sex
Pairing: Kradam! and definitely Kradison friendship
Summary: “His mind answered the question he refused to ask aloud, the one that burned on his tongue, the one that he wanted to ask more than anything in the world.”
Warning: If you're googling yourself - I'd suggest getting the hell out of here asap.
Thank you to my beta alexacoleman - the story couldn't possibly survive without you. :P
So I think that's it - enjoy!(:
Upon seeing Kris open his mouth to say something, Adam quickly cut him off - not even trying to keep his voice emotionless - he snarled, “You’re on pretty fucking soon.” He only paused to assess the expression that clouded Kris’ features - a flinch from the expletive and icy tone - before he turned on his heel and walked out of the door.
Adam slumped in the chair sitting in front of the mirror in his dressing room. His make up products were strewn about across the floor and the wall above the sofa that reflected behind Adam was dripping with liquid - the bottle that previously held it, lying on the ground. His jacket was in a pile, the sleeve hanging off the edge of the counter - and any other time Adam would have just about hit himself over the head before leaving that precious piece of clothing out like he did - but right now it was all he could do not to rip it to shreds.
His head was in his hands, and his elbows were on his knees, and he was slouching so far down he could have been trying to curl in on himself. His eyeliner streaked from the corners and insides of his eye down to his chin and dripped onto his jeans, leaving small, wet, dark smudges on his thighs.
Every time he pulled his hands away from his eyes, he noticed they were black and blue from the remainder of the make up covering him. The throb in his head was almost as painful as the one in his chest. He could hear the staggered, irregular heartbeat in both, and he just wanted it all to end. Giant sobs were ripping through his entire body and he felt like with each intake of breath his heart shattered into thousands of tiny pieces.
He couldn’t even bring himself to wonder why he was acting this way. The situation really wasn’t a huge deal, not a big enough to deal to pull this kind of emotion from him anyways. Maybe it’s because you’re afraid of getting hurt. It’s happened before and you know it. So quit fucking fighting and just let it be. He drew his hands from his eyes upwards towards his hair, more than likely creating an even larger trail of blackened product, and tugged at the already fucked up tufts to satiate the pain he felt needed to be self-inflicted.
He felt delusional, unstable. It. Was. Just. Kris. He’d probably be seething, if his damn heart didn’t hurt so much. Why would Kris hurt him? What did Kris jacking off even have to do with hurting Adam? If anything it was a compliment, right? His mind answered the question he refused to ask aloud, the one that burned on his tongue, the one that he wanted to ask more than anything in the world. He’s straight and getting out of a marriage you fucking moron. Quit fooling yourself. He’s fucking with your mind. Maybe it’s just some one-time curiosity thing. Don’t wish for things that won’t be, you’ll just end up screwed in the end.
He let out an audible growl and jumped out of his seat, immediately locking his own eyes with the baby blues in the reflection. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he counted to six, then exhaled through his mouth. Adam placed his hands against the mirror for support, and let his upper body sag as his head fell and he stared at the inconsequential patterns running along the carpet.
Another deep breath in through his nose, count to six, and exhale. Slowly he lifted his head up to properly look at himself. He looked like he’d just got the shit beat out of him then cried about it for about two hours. Which was just about the truth. Such a drama queen. Adam almost punched the mirror, but figured he’d done enough damage to himself and the room and decided against it.
He did, however, continue to assess his ragged, heartbroken appearance. The normally fabulously styled pitch-black hair was a wreck - large chunks sticking up awkwardly and at random angles. His eyes were almost unrecognizable; the dulled blue was now a grey in contrast to the black and blue glitter-filled smudges that surrounded his eyes. The streaks of blackened tears had left tracks through his concealer. He snorted a gross, wet sound, Tracks of My Tears takes on a whole new meaning with this one, folks. He shook his head, and dropped his hands from the mirror, ignoring the smeared trail of darkness that followed. Descending to his knees he groaned - pleased when he hit the ground hard enough to bruise his kneecaps - and crawled around to pick up each strewn about make up piece, placing them rhythmically in the bag, still breathing slowly and evenly. As he rose to place the make up bag on the counter, he banged his head on it, swore loudly, and cursed again as the tears immediately stung in the back of his eyes.
There was an extremely light knock on the door, that would have been otherwise unheard if the room hadn’t been so quiet, and a familiar, normally bubbly, voice filled with concern and anxiety whisper shouted, “Adam? Is that you?”
Adam sniffled, searching around him for something to clean himself up, make him look like he’d only been crying for 15 minutes instead of 30, but found nothing. He gave up, as much as he cared about protecting the girl outside his door from seeing this side of him, he couldn’t find the strength or will to turn her away. It’s okay to need people sometimes; you don’t have to be a hard ass for all of your life.
He answered softly, just loud enough for her to hear, and cringed when his voice cracked, “Yeah Alli, you can come in.”
The door creaked open slowly, and his heart broke a little more when he raised his eyes to meet those of a familiar, loving, red-head, concern etched over every part of her face, and Adam immediately felt bad for worrying her.
Allison looked at him briefly, taking a second to survey the surroundings and Adam’s appearance, and he watched the emotions that passed through her dark brown - almost black - eyes. Anger, pain, confusion, realization, acceptance and then her eyes held a silent question - she was asking his approval to get closer. Damn, he must have looked worse than he thought.
Allison had never felt the need to ask to break past that shield that floated around Adam like a brick wall. She’d never felt the need to ask approval to slip through that protection and wrap her arms around him, it had always been a privilege that she’d never wanted to lose - even from the beginning. But based on the broken expression in his eyes and the defeated tone of his stance, she wondered now if it was okay to invade that space.
Adam immediately regretted causing Allison to look like she did, like she didn’t know whether to run into Adam’s arms, or escape through the door she’d first entered. It was not how their friendship existed. He would give this girl the world before seeing her hurt, even in the slightest. But he couldn’t bring himself to act like the bigger person, couldn’t find that protective nature that usually glittered on the surface whenever she was around. There was too much going on, and if he was being honest with himself, he needed someone, and the particular someone he wanted to cry to - to curl up into their side and bawl until he couldn’t feel the tears that ran down his face - was the person who put Adam into this position in the first place.
He couldn’t even manage to keep the tears at bay before reaching his long, freckled arms out and spoke - his voice watery and shaky and catching in his throat, “Come here baby.”
She took slow, deliberate steps at first - erring on the side of caution in case he changed his mind - but then ran the last few steps and collapsed into his arms.
Adam wrapped large, muscular arms around her, and clutched at her like a life preserver. He cried broken tears into her shoulder, and his body shook with the force of the emotions that enveloped him.
Allison cooed short, soft murmurs in his ear, brushed hair out of his eyes, ran a delicate hand through his hair, and when Adam realized her soft humming hitched and broke at irregular intervals he pulled away to look at her. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. His silent tears fell harder upon seeing the pain he was causing his favorite girl.
She cupped his face in her hands, shaking her head slowly don’t cry for me, and he felt as if he wasn’t staring into a 17 year old girl’s eyes, but those of a mother. He felt he was five and had just broken his arm falling off his bike and his mother was comforting him as they rushed to the hospital. It was pathetic, and weak, but he couldn’t help it. He knew he was supposed to go on and close the show, but he couldn’t summon enough energy to even stand up. His head was pounding, heart aching, his throat felt raw from tears and sobs, and he was sure his make up and hair were ruined.
Adam watched quietly, the tears rolling slower down his cheeks as another question formed in Allison’s eyes, before being replaced with something stronger, something far more intense - determination.
“Adam Mitchel Lambert,” the words would have been a snarl in the back of her throat had her eyes not been filled with unshed tears, and her voice scratchy, “what the fuck are you doing?”
Adam blanched at the expletive that he rarely heard - nonetheless allowed - escape from her mouth. Casting his eyes downward, shameful, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to watch her tongue, she was right after all.
Allison ignored the shock that covered Adam’s face at her diction, and inwardly smiled. She rambled on in an angry tone, pulling his ocean-blue eyes back to glare into them, “Everyone has been looking for you, we have to go on in twenty minutes and look at you! What have you…,” she paused when she rose up onto her knees to look at his hair properly. The scalp in between the chaotic separations of tufts of his glittery, raven-black hair was pink and raw.
Allison couldn’t bring herself to pretend to be angry anymore, she was in way over her head. She felt the sudden urge to run as she took Adam’s appearance and actions into consideration. She’d looked like this before; she knew what it felt like to act this way, to look like this. It scared the shit out of her, and she tried to keep her composure but failed as Adam just watched the panic flood through her.
The look on Allison’s face erased everything Adam was upset about. He watched the way her body curled in on itself, the way her eyes seemed to grow wider - panic obvious in them, and when he reached his arm out to touch her she flinched violently, jumping backwards as her whole body shook. Adam just sat there, he didn’t know what to do - he couldn’t pull words to his brain.
Something changed in her appearance, though, and suddenly she was back to normal. For a second he thought he’d imagined the whole thing, before noticing that her hands were still shaking slightly when she went to wrap her arms around him again.
“Alli, what…?” He trailed off, the words coming out low pitched and course, scratching their way out of his throat. He heard Allison’s hiccough before he felt her shake her head slightly, from where it was tucked into his neck. He felt horrible, but he didn’t have the energy to keep questioning - all of the sudden he was exhausted and just wanted to be alone.
Allison cursed inwardly; she promised herself no one would ever see her act that way. She took a deep breath in through her nose, bathing herself in comfort when she breathed in Adam’s scent, before pulling her head out from the crook of his neck and looking into his eyes. The look there broke her heart; it was like he’d given up - on everything. She couldn’t allow him to look like that, not now, not ever.
Cautiously leaning forward, she ran her hands through his hair lightly, stopping momentarily when he tensed before falling limp, his breathing becoming quicker and irregular again. Sensing tears she immediately halted her movements, trying to stop her own as well and crooned, “That’s enough crying for now, we have to go on really soon, which means I’m going to have to do your make up and get you ready.”
Between the comfort that exuded from Allison and remembering that he had to perform soon, Adam’s strength began returning to him bit by bit. The shield around him pulsed as years of theater aided in carefully masking his expressions and composure. He searched and found his voice, that had previously been hiding out somewhere in his testicles, spoke up and attempted to keep his tone at a constant pitch so it wouldn’t crack like a pubescent boy’s. “No, it’s okay. I’ve got it baby.” His voice sounded bland, like he was commenting on the color of the carpet; he didn’t even wrap the term of endearment in his usual loving tone.
Adam couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes as he stood up carefully, detangling himself from her and reaching onto the counter to grab a tissue. Fucking pathetic. You just bawled your eyes out in front of her like some two year old that got her favorite doll stolen, and you can’t even thank her, much less look her in the eyes? As if the completely letting your guard down in front of a teenage girl wasn’t bad enough. Your balls are going to shrivel up and fall off at this rate, stud. Damn straight. He’d already revealed a side of him to Allison - god, of all people - that he’d never planned on showing anyone and it definitely was not going to happen again.
Adam continued busying himself in front of the mirror, back to Allison, and cleaning his face with a make up removing wipe he found on the far edge of the counter; he didn’t have time to take it off and reapply it completely so he was just going to have to make do with what he had. Concentrating on the words to the songs he was about to sing and his positioning on stage, he applied his eyeliner with a semi-steady hand, before realizing something that nearly reduced him to tears again.
He was going to have to ascend on the lift right next to Kris, and then perform next to him throughout the whole set. His hand began to shake and it was no longer possible to do his eyeliner without injuring himself - which might not be so bad, if it weren’t for the millions of fans waiting to see him.
Adam dropped the stick and braced himself against the counter, head down, the tendons in his hands straining as he gripped the edge tightly. He was fighting the massive sob that was building in his chest, rising up to his throat, threatening to escape, and there was no way in hell he was going to do this in front of Allison again.
He stuttered through clenched teeth, “Allison. Get. Out.” He didn’t care that the tone probably ripped through her, he just needed her out. He couldn’t focus on what he needed to get done when he was worrying about his breaking down in front of her again.
Adam heard feet shuffling behind him, and assuming Allison had headed for the door, he let the sob overtake him and rip through his chest, leaving a hollow, empty feeling behind. “Kris.” It was a low, strangled cry, and halfway through it his voice hitched. He clenched his teeth to keep his eyes from watering, and gripped the table to slow the quaking of his body. But then there were warm, soft hands covering his, prying them away from the counter and leading him into the chair.
Adam let his words escape him, not bothering to filter them. “God dammit Iraheta, I said get out. You don’t need to see this, I’m fine to get ready,” he picked up his head to finally meet her eyes and what he saw terrified him.
Her normally expressive, alive eyes were guarded, and her face held no traces of expression. He didn’t know that though her outside looked this way, the inside of her held back tears and sobs, and exclamations because Adam didn’t know that Allison knew exactly what he was crying about. Adam didn’t know that Allison had been fighting the same emotions that he was facing now, for most of her life. Adam didn’t know that Allison had ran into Kris right before he was about to go onstage and let him fall apart briefly in her arms as well, before forcing him to take the stage. Adam didn’t know that she was the only one who knew that both of her best friends were in love with each other.
So she transformed into an outsider, a person whose emotions wouldn’t get the best of them. She had done it before, and at this point she could do it without a second thought. Adam needed her, and Allison refused to flake.
Adam wasn’t sure what to make of the Allison in front of him anymore. He was horrified and completely confused, and he was so damn sick of his emotions playing musical chairs. He questioned her softly - somehow managing to return his voice back to normal, soothing, and his blue eyes probed hers, “Alli, I’m sorry you had to see that. Are you okay?”
Allison nodded her head once, swiftly. A quick, jerky bob, and busied herself on looking around the room for something to cover Adam’s monstrosity of a hair-do. She spotted what she was looking for sitting on the edge of the sofa on the far side of the room and ran over to retrieve it, before returning and setting it down on the make up counter. She ran her hands through his hair softly and quickly a few times, trying to tame as much of it as she could before placing the cap carefully on top. It was his ‘Glam hat’ as the group liked to call it. All glittery, and sparkly, and fabulous - just like Adam.
Adam gave up on the talking part of their long, confusing almost-conversation and sent a silent thank you up to whoever the hell was watching over him - this girl was a gift. He looked past Allison at himself in the mirror and nodded appreciatively. The hat was perfect, and he already looked better. Now for the make up.
He picked up his eyeliner and continued to apply with a practiced hand, reaching up to smudge the edges of his eyes with his fingers lightly. His eyes still looked a little darker than normal, but hopefully the stage lights would cancel out the difference. Some concealer in spaces needed and a touch of blue, silver, and black eye shadow, with some glitter running along the insides of his eyes, and he was finished.
Stepping back, he studied himself carefully in the mirror. He could still identify the raw emotion in his eyes, but it wasn’t as prominent against his near perfect make-up and glitter. You still look like shit. He neglected the thought, and almost jumped when he felt something cold and damp being pressed into his arm. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone; Allison must have run to the mini fridge and grabbed him a bottle of water. He took a swig, appreciating the cold liquid trickling down his raw throat, and set it back down on the counter.
Swiping on some chap stick, he turned to look at Allison whose eyeliner was slightly faded from the tears she must have shed without his notice. He snatched up his eyeliner, and gestured towards her - she closed her eyes and felt the cool tip of the liner being applied quickly, and then smudged with a gentle, warm finger before she opened them again.
Allison didn’t look at herself in the mirror, she didn’t want to see the emotionless person she had become, so she plastered a big fake smile on her face and grabbed Adam’s arm - leading him out the door. They had a show to put on; she could crumble to pieces later.
Tune in tomorrow night for the next part! (:
Author: adamissexable
Rating: NC 17 language, sex
Pairing: Kradam! and definitely Kradison friendship
Summary: “His mind answered the question he refused to ask aloud, the one that burned on his tongue, the one that he wanted to ask more than anything in the world.”
Warning: If you're googling yourself - I'd suggest getting the hell out of here asap.
Thank you to my beta alexacoleman - the story couldn't possibly survive without you. :P
So I think that's it - enjoy!(:
Upon seeing Kris open his mouth to say something, Adam quickly cut him off - not even trying to keep his voice emotionless - he snarled, “You’re on pretty fucking soon.” He only paused to assess the expression that clouded Kris’ features - a flinch from the expletive and icy tone - before he turned on his heel and walked out of the door.
Adam slumped in the chair sitting in front of the mirror in his dressing room. His make up products were strewn about across the floor and the wall above the sofa that reflected behind Adam was dripping with liquid - the bottle that previously held it, lying on the ground. His jacket was in a pile, the sleeve hanging off the edge of the counter - and any other time Adam would have just about hit himself over the head before leaving that precious piece of clothing out like he did - but right now it was all he could do not to rip it to shreds.
His head was in his hands, and his elbows were on his knees, and he was slouching so far down he could have been trying to curl in on himself. His eyeliner streaked from the corners and insides of his eye down to his chin and dripped onto his jeans, leaving small, wet, dark smudges on his thighs.
Every time he pulled his hands away from his eyes, he noticed they were black and blue from the remainder of the make up covering him. The throb in his head was almost as painful as the one in his chest. He could hear the staggered, irregular heartbeat in both, and he just wanted it all to end. Giant sobs were ripping through his entire body and he felt like with each intake of breath his heart shattered into thousands of tiny pieces.
He couldn’t even bring himself to wonder why he was acting this way. The situation really wasn’t a huge deal, not a big enough to deal to pull this kind of emotion from him anyways. Maybe it’s because you’re afraid of getting hurt. It’s happened before and you know it. So quit fucking fighting and just let it be. He drew his hands from his eyes upwards towards his hair, more than likely creating an even larger trail of blackened product, and tugged at the already fucked up tufts to satiate the pain he felt needed to be self-inflicted.
He felt delusional, unstable. It. Was. Just. Kris. He’d probably be seething, if his damn heart didn’t hurt so much. Why would Kris hurt him? What did Kris jacking off even have to do with hurting Adam? If anything it was a compliment, right? His mind answered the question he refused to ask aloud, the one that burned on his tongue, the one that he wanted to ask more than anything in the world. He’s straight and getting out of a marriage you fucking moron. Quit fooling yourself. He’s fucking with your mind. Maybe it’s just some one-time curiosity thing. Don’t wish for things that won’t be, you’ll just end up screwed in the end.
He let out an audible growl and jumped out of his seat, immediately locking his own eyes with the baby blues in the reflection. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he counted to six, then exhaled through his mouth. Adam placed his hands against the mirror for support, and let his upper body sag as his head fell and he stared at the inconsequential patterns running along the carpet.
Another deep breath in through his nose, count to six, and exhale. Slowly he lifted his head up to properly look at himself. He looked like he’d just got the shit beat out of him then cried about it for about two hours. Which was just about the truth. Such a drama queen. Adam almost punched the mirror, but figured he’d done enough damage to himself and the room and decided against it.
He did, however, continue to assess his ragged, heartbroken appearance. The normally fabulously styled pitch-black hair was a wreck - large chunks sticking up awkwardly and at random angles. His eyes were almost unrecognizable; the dulled blue was now a grey in contrast to the black and blue glitter-filled smudges that surrounded his eyes. The streaks of blackened tears had left tracks through his concealer. He snorted a gross, wet sound, Tracks of My Tears takes on a whole new meaning with this one, folks. He shook his head, and dropped his hands from the mirror, ignoring the smeared trail of darkness that followed. Descending to his knees he groaned - pleased when he hit the ground hard enough to bruise his kneecaps - and crawled around to pick up each strewn about make up piece, placing them rhythmically in the bag, still breathing slowly and evenly. As he rose to place the make up bag on the counter, he banged his head on it, swore loudly, and cursed again as the tears immediately stung in the back of his eyes.
There was an extremely light knock on the door, that would have been otherwise unheard if the room hadn’t been so quiet, and a familiar, normally bubbly, voice filled with concern and anxiety whisper shouted, “Adam? Is that you?”
Adam sniffled, searching around him for something to clean himself up, make him look like he’d only been crying for 15 minutes instead of 30, but found nothing. He gave up, as much as he cared about protecting the girl outside his door from seeing this side of him, he couldn’t find the strength or will to turn her away. It’s okay to need people sometimes; you don’t have to be a hard ass for all of your life.
He answered softly, just loud enough for her to hear, and cringed when his voice cracked, “Yeah Alli, you can come in.”
The door creaked open slowly, and his heart broke a little more when he raised his eyes to meet those of a familiar, loving, red-head, concern etched over every part of her face, and Adam immediately felt bad for worrying her.
Allison looked at him briefly, taking a second to survey the surroundings and Adam’s appearance, and he watched the emotions that passed through her dark brown - almost black - eyes. Anger, pain, confusion, realization, acceptance and then her eyes held a silent question - she was asking his approval to get closer. Damn, he must have looked worse than he thought.
Allison had never felt the need to ask to break past that shield that floated around Adam like a brick wall. She’d never felt the need to ask approval to slip through that protection and wrap her arms around him, it had always been a privilege that she’d never wanted to lose - even from the beginning. But based on the broken expression in his eyes and the defeated tone of his stance, she wondered now if it was okay to invade that space.
Adam immediately regretted causing Allison to look like she did, like she didn’t know whether to run into Adam’s arms, or escape through the door she’d first entered. It was not how their friendship existed. He would give this girl the world before seeing her hurt, even in the slightest. But he couldn’t bring himself to act like the bigger person, couldn’t find that protective nature that usually glittered on the surface whenever she was around. There was too much going on, and if he was being honest with himself, he needed someone, and the particular someone he wanted to cry to - to curl up into their side and bawl until he couldn’t feel the tears that ran down his face - was the person who put Adam into this position in the first place.
He couldn’t even manage to keep the tears at bay before reaching his long, freckled arms out and spoke - his voice watery and shaky and catching in his throat, “Come here baby.”
She took slow, deliberate steps at first - erring on the side of caution in case he changed his mind - but then ran the last few steps and collapsed into his arms.
Adam wrapped large, muscular arms around her, and clutched at her like a life preserver. He cried broken tears into her shoulder, and his body shook with the force of the emotions that enveloped him.
Allison cooed short, soft murmurs in his ear, brushed hair out of his eyes, ran a delicate hand through his hair, and when Adam realized her soft humming hitched and broke at irregular intervals he pulled away to look at her. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. His silent tears fell harder upon seeing the pain he was causing his favorite girl.
She cupped his face in her hands, shaking her head slowly don’t cry for me, and he felt as if he wasn’t staring into a 17 year old girl’s eyes, but those of a mother. He felt he was five and had just broken his arm falling off his bike and his mother was comforting him as they rushed to the hospital. It was pathetic, and weak, but he couldn’t help it. He knew he was supposed to go on and close the show, but he couldn’t summon enough energy to even stand up. His head was pounding, heart aching, his throat felt raw from tears and sobs, and he was sure his make up and hair were ruined.
Adam watched quietly, the tears rolling slower down his cheeks as another question formed in Allison’s eyes, before being replaced with something stronger, something far more intense - determination.
“Adam Mitchel Lambert,” the words would have been a snarl in the back of her throat had her eyes not been filled with unshed tears, and her voice scratchy, “what the fuck are you doing?”
Adam blanched at the expletive that he rarely heard - nonetheless allowed - escape from her mouth. Casting his eyes downward, shameful, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to watch her tongue, she was right after all.
Allison ignored the shock that covered Adam’s face at her diction, and inwardly smiled. She rambled on in an angry tone, pulling his ocean-blue eyes back to glare into them, “Everyone has been looking for you, we have to go on in twenty minutes and look at you! What have you…,” she paused when she rose up onto her knees to look at his hair properly. The scalp in between the chaotic separations of tufts of his glittery, raven-black hair was pink and raw.
Allison couldn’t bring herself to pretend to be angry anymore, she was in way over her head. She felt the sudden urge to run as she took Adam’s appearance and actions into consideration. She’d looked like this before; she knew what it felt like to act this way, to look like this. It scared the shit out of her, and she tried to keep her composure but failed as Adam just watched the panic flood through her.
The look on Allison’s face erased everything Adam was upset about. He watched the way her body curled in on itself, the way her eyes seemed to grow wider - panic obvious in them, and when he reached his arm out to touch her she flinched violently, jumping backwards as her whole body shook. Adam just sat there, he didn’t know what to do - he couldn’t pull words to his brain.
Something changed in her appearance, though, and suddenly she was back to normal. For a second he thought he’d imagined the whole thing, before noticing that her hands were still shaking slightly when she went to wrap her arms around him again.
“Alli, what…?” He trailed off, the words coming out low pitched and course, scratching their way out of his throat. He heard Allison’s hiccough before he felt her shake her head slightly, from where it was tucked into his neck. He felt horrible, but he didn’t have the energy to keep questioning - all of the sudden he was exhausted and just wanted to be alone.
Allison cursed inwardly; she promised herself no one would ever see her act that way. She took a deep breath in through her nose, bathing herself in comfort when she breathed in Adam’s scent, before pulling her head out from the crook of his neck and looking into his eyes. The look there broke her heart; it was like he’d given up - on everything. She couldn’t allow him to look like that, not now, not ever.
Cautiously leaning forward, she ran her hands through his hair lightly, stopping momentarily when he tensed before falling limp, his breathing becoming quicker and irregular again. Sensing tears she immediately halted her movements, trying to stop her own as well and crooned, “That’s enough crying for now, we have to go on really soon, which means I’m going to have to do your make up and get you ready.”
Between the comfort that exuded from Allison and remembering that he had to perform soon, Adam’s strength began returning to him bit by bit. The shield around him pulsed as years of theater aided in carefully masking his expressions and composure. He searched and found his voice, that had previously been hiding out somewhere in his testicles, spoke up and attempted to keep his tone at a constant pitch so it wouldn’t crack like a pubescent boy’s. “No, it’s okay. I’ve got it baby.” His voice sounded bland, like he was commenting on the color of the carpet; he didn’t even wrap the term of endearment in his usual loving tone.
Adam couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes as he stood up carefully, detangling himself from her and reaching onto the counter to grab a tissue. Fucking pathetic. You just bawled your eyes out in front of her like some two year old that got her favorite doll stolen, and you can’t even thank her, much less look her in the eyes? As if the completely letting your guard down in front of a teenage girl wasn’t bad enough. Your balls are going to shrivel up and fall off at this rate, stud. Damn straight. He’d already revealed a side of him to Allison - god, of all people - that he’d never planned on showing anyone and it definitely was not going to happen again.
Adam continued busying himself in front of the mirror, back to Allison, and cleaning his face with a make up removing wipe he found on the far edge of the counter; he didn’t have time to take it off and reapply it completely so he was just going to have to make do with what he had. Concentrating on the words to the songs he was about to sing and his positioning on stage, he applied his eyeliner with a semi-steady hand, before realizing something that nearly reduced him to tears again.
He was going to have to ascend on the lift right next to Kris, and then perform next to him throughout the whole set. His hand began to shake and it was no longer possible to do his eyeliner without injuring himself - which might not be so bad, if it weren’t for the millions of fans waiting to see him.
Adam dropped the stick and braced himself against the counter, head down, the tendons in his hands straining as he gripped the edge tightly. He was fighting the massive sob that was building in his chest, rising up to his throat, threatening to escape, and there was no way in hell he was going to do this in front of Allison again.
He stuttered through clenched teeth, “Allison. Get. Out.” He didn’t care that the tone probably ripped through her, he just needed her out. He couldn’t focus on what he needed to get done when he was worrying about his breaking down in front of her again.
Adam heard feet shuffling behind him, and assuming Allison had headed for the door, he let the sob overtake him and rip through his chest, leaving a hollow, empty feeling behind. “Kris.” It was a low, strangled cry, and halfway through it his voice hitched. He clenched his teeth to keep his eyes from watering, and gripped the table to slow the quaking of his body. But then there were warm, soft hands covering his, prying them away from the counter and leading him into the chair.
Adam let his words escape him, not bothering to filter them. “God dammit Iraheta, I said get out. You don’t need to see this, I’m fine to get ready,” he picked up his head to finally meet her eyes and what he saw terrified him.
Her normally expressive, alive eyes were guarded, and her face held no traces of expression. He didn’t know that though her outside looked this way, the inside of her held back tears and sobs, and exclamations because Adam didn’t know that Allison knew exactly what he was crying about. Adam didn’t know that Allison had been fighting the same emotions that he was facing now, for most of her life. Adam didn’t know that Allison had ran into Kris right before he was about to go onstage and let him fall apart briefly in her arms as well, before forcing him to take the stage. Adam didn’t know that she was the only one who knew that both of her best friends were in love with each other.
So she transformed into an outsider, a person whose emotions wouldn’t get the best of them. She had done it before, and at this point she could do it without a second thought. Adam needed her, and Allison refused to flake.
Adam wasn’t sure what to make of the Allison in front of him anymore. He was horrified and completely confused, and he was so damn sick of his emotions playing musical chairs. He questioned her softly - somehow managing to return his voice back to normal, soothing, and his blue eyes probed hers, “Alli, I’m sorry you had to see that. Are you okay?”
Allison nodded her head once, swiftly. A quick, jerky bob, and busied herself on looking around the room for something to cover Adam’s monstrosity of a hair-do. She spotted what she was looking for sitting on the edge of the sofa on the far side of the room and ran over to retrieve it, before returning and setting it down on the make up counter. She ran her hands through his hair softly and quickly a few times, trying to tame as much of it as she could before placing the cap carefully on top. It was his ‘Glam hat’ as the group liked to call it. All glittery, and sparkly, and fabulous - just like Adam.
Adam gave up on the talking part of their long, confusing almost-conversation and sent a silent thank you up to whoever the hell was watching over him - this girl was a gift. He looked past Allison at himself in the mirror and nodded appreciatively. The hat was perfect, and he already looked better. Now for the make up.
He picked up his eyeliner and continued to apply with a practiced hand, reaching up to smudge the edges of his eyes with his fingers lightly. His eyes still looked a little darker than normal, but hopefully the stage lights would cancel out the difference. Some concealer in spaces needed and a touch of blue, silver, and black eye shadow, with some glitter running along the insides of his eyes, and he was finished.
Stepping back, he studied himself carefully in the mirror. He could still identify the raw emotion in his eyes, but it wasn’t as prominent against his near perfect make-up and glitter. You still look like shit. He neglected the thought, and almost jumped when he felt something cold and damp being pressed into his arm. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone; Allison must have run to the mini fridge and grabbed him a bottle of water. He took a swig, appreciating the cold liquid trickling down his raw throat, and set it back down on the counter.
Swiping on some chap stick, he turned to look at Allison whose eyeliner was slightly faded from the tears she must have shed without his notice. He snatched up his eyeliner, and gestured towards her - she closed her eyes and felt the cool tip of the liner being applied quickly, and then smudged with a gentle, warm finger before she opened them again.
Allison didn’t look at herself in the mirror, she didn’t want to see the emotionless person she had become, so she plastered a big fake smile on her face and grabbed Adam’s arm - leading him out the door. They had a show to put on; she could crumble to pieces later.
Tune in tomorrow night for the next part! (: