Turn It All Around (Part 2)
After that moment, Adam had a really hard time sorting himself out. He acted strangely the whole rest of the day, shaky and too formal. Kris seemed to sense that something was wrong when he presented a poorly-made lasagna and Adam couldn’t even focus enough to cobble together a half-hearted compliment.
A Kris sad and worried was not a Kris Adam wanted to be responsible for - he loathed himself for it, in fact. But to be fair, he didn’t even know what his problem was, and so, against his better judgement, he had decided to meet Brad in the morning for coffee to talk it out.
Of course Brad laughed himself completely silly once Adam had filled him in, spewing coffee all over their table in the bagel joint. Adam just wiped it off with a paper napkin and rolled his eyes, more than a little accustomed to causing disturbances in restaurants when he went out with friends.
“Alright, now you’ve have a good laugh, want to help me out a little here?” he said as he applied cream cheese to his bagel.
Brad gave him a look. “Adam. Honey. This isn’t good.”
“What do you mean?” he said quickly.
“You’re a little bit hung up on this guy,” said Brad, shaking his head. “And he’s living with you. It pretty much couldn’t get worse.”
Adam groaned and let his forehead drop to the table. “Just kill me then, why don’t you.”
“Worst of all, he’s straight!”
Adam frowned into the table, where Brad couldn’t see him. He had been wondering about this particular point, actually. It wasn’t like Kris was a manly man. He was touchy-feely, sensitive in a nonexistent movie-hunk kind of way, enjoyed chick flicks without a shadow of irony, showed occasional touches of flamboyancy, and never ever talked about women he found attractive in front of Adam, despite Adam’s frequent comments on the beauty of pretty much every current pop artist and movie star.
Of course this could all be complete bias, Adam told himself. A lot of straight guys probably had these exact characteristics. Or, Kris could be acting differently because he knew Adam was gay and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. But the signs added up, and some of the things Kris said couldn’t keep Adam from wondering whether Kris was a bit bicurious.
“Hmm. It’s a pretty bad sign that you’re not even protesting the fact that you really like him,” said Brad after a moment, misinterpreting Adam’s silence.
Adam raised his head sharply. “Aren’t you supposed to be giving me advice? Or did I give you the impression that I wanted to be made to feel like crap?”
Brad looked a little too serious after that snarky comment. It scared Adam like nothing else.
“You do this a lot, Adam. You let yourself get too deep into situations you can’t fix.”
He nodded, resigning himself to what he knew Brad would say next.
“If you don’t get out of this soon, you’re going to fall for him.”
Adam narrowed his eyes. “What if I don’t want to get out? I know I can’t have him that way, but he really means a lot to me. I think I’m helping him.”
Brad paused for a minute to take a luxurious slurp of coffee. “Ever consider telling him?”
“No,” said Adam forcefully. “No way. We’ve only known each other for a couple of months, that would just ruin everything. I don’t want to scare him away.”
“But you won’t kick him out, either. So basically your only option is to pine away in misery and call me and whine all the time and jack yourself off silly over the poor innocent kid.”
Adam’s look of horror gave him away. In fact, it had been pretty difficult not to imagine doing very, very dirty things to tiny, wide-eyed Kris Allen. He was just so fuck-able, so easy to picture throwing against a wall and ravaging. Sometimes he just wanted to take one of those plaid shirts and tear it down the middle so that all the buttons went flying.
Adam blinked; his eyes had gone bleary. Unsurprisingly, Brad seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.
They finished their coffee in silence, mostly. On the way home, Adam thought about all the possible ways Kris might react if he did tell him. Too many of them ended in tragedy for his liking.
As soon as he got back, he shut himself into the bathroom to avoid Kris and splashed water on his face, not even caring that his foundation would be ruined. He stared at his pathetic, almost lovesick reflection and decided that he would not let himself be weird around Kris anymore. Their friendship was rapidly becoming too important to fuck up over a silly crush.
Just as Adam had made his up mind on the matter, Kris burst through the door.
“Woah!” he practically squeaked, moving to turn around. “Sorry, man.”
Adam reached out and gripped Kris’ shoulder to stop him. “No, it’s cool. I’m done in here.”
He looked up into the mirror and saw Kris staring at him through it, at his face.
“What?” Adam said, incredulous.
“It’s just, you have freckles,” said Kris softly, a curious twist to his lips. “I never noticed.”
Adam grinned. “Good. It’s because I spend way too much time covering them up. I’ve got like a million ugly-ass ones all over my body.”
Kris said nothing, expression completely blank. Adam realized that they were both still standing in the cramped bathroom, and so shuffled around Kris to leave, their bodies brushing.
Adam was nearly out the door when he threw caution to the winds and wrenched it open again, sticking his head through. Kris hadn’t moved an inch.
“What was that song, by the way?” Adam asked. “The one you played me yesterday.”
“Oh,” mumbled Kris, apparently finding the floor tiles fascinating. “Just something I wrote a few years ago.”
Adam’s eyes bugged out, and he almost let himself gabble on about how gorgeous it was, guitar and lyrics and melody, how heart-breaking and gut-wrenching. But then he remembered that Kris was there to pee, not talk, and so he settled on something simple.
“It was beautiful, Kris.”
Adam closed the door and didn’t catch his reaction.
Later, as they whipped up a couple of Cup of Soups for lunch, Kris said out of nowhere, “You shouldn’t hide your freckles, you know. They look good on you.”
Adam nearly spilled boiling water all over himself.
When he lay in bed that night and replayed that statement a million times over in his head, he couldn’t recall if he had managed to choke out a response. He was betting on a no.
Needless to say, Adam stopped wearing so much foundation. He even wore a wife beater, which showed off his densest freckles, deliberately around the apartment for a few days. Kris never made a comment on any of this, if he noticed. Adam reflected that he led a very sad life indeed, if he resorted to wearing less clothing in an attempt to tease a solidly oblivious straight guy whom he happened to be living with.
Soon enough, however, the opportunities for showing a little skin were becoming scarce - Winter was closing in on New York City.
Kris didn’t know how to handle such persistent cold. While Adam swapped his leather jackets for thick, heavy trench coats, Kris’ warmest item of clothing was a wool sweater his mother had knit him. Adam could sympathize - the weather transition from L.A. to New York had been rough.
So naturally, when Kris burst through the door in one of Adam’s long, black, hooded jackets (which was hilariously massive on him) with an air of frustration and resentment, Adam could only assume that it was the weather contributing to Kris’ bad mood.
“What’s up?” said Adam, barely looking up from his magazine.
Kris collapsed on the couch next to him. “I think I may have made a mistake.”
“Elaborate, please,” said Adam, tossing away Rolling Stone.
Kris wasn’t looking at anything in particular, eyes straight ahead and unfocused, fuzzy. His hands were folded. He looked resigned.
“I should never have left Arkansas.”
Adam’s heart felt like it was being strangled. He could hardly breathe.
“And what exactly is prompting this... unexpected revelation?” he said tightly.
“Got a call from Katy. Had a bad gig at the restaurant. Realized my music isn’t very good after all. Sick of working at a place I hate.”
The cold, matter-of-fact way that Kris delivered his reasons did nothing to lessen the hysterical panic and anger that was rising in Adam. He took a few deep breaths in and out, but what he said was just as harsh and unforgiving.
“Well if you’re having regrets, Kris, than maybe you should have thought it through a bit more, hmm? Instead of just dropping everything to follow a whim.”
He didn’t know what made him say it. But the idea of Kris being so unhappy that he would actually miss a place where he was stifled in every way was unthinkable. It made Adam want to throw himself out a window and curl up on the sidewalk in the broken glass. And yet Kris’ response somehow managed to make him feel even worse.
“That’s funny,” Kris said in a falsely cheery voice, getting up from the couch with a rustle of the coat he was still wearing. “‘Cause last I heard, you approved of my ‘spontaneous’ decision.”
Adam rose to meet him. “Do you just abandon everyone you meet, Kris? Get bored of your girlfriend, dump her, ditch your friends, get bored of music, bored of me, and now you’re moving on again! Well I don’t want any part of it. If you’re really planning on leaving, do it now and spare me the heartache.”
Adam was actually pointing to the door and Kris’ eyes followed, staring at the handle like he would do anything to turn it and get the hell out.
But he didn’t move. Adam watched Kris’ chest rising and falling, watched his face contort like he was conflicted. At least a minute passed during which neither said or did anything. Adam was considering walking away, when without warning Kris buried his face in his hands, hunched over, and started shaking uncontrollably.
Adam instantly forgot everything that had just passed between them and rushed to Kris, wrapping his arms around him. Kris reacted without hesitation, pressing his face into Adam’s shoulder and returning the hug with surprising strength. It was one of the closest embraces Adam had ever had, and he wondered whether Kris always hugged people like this.
After a moment Adam leaned his head a little closer and said softly into Kris’ ear, “Where the hell did you get the idea that you weren’t good?”
Adam could feel Kris’ smile against his chest. “I thought... I thought maybe I was good, after I played for you. You were so nice about it. But then this guy at the restaurant... said he was a producer at some label I haven’t heard of. Said I’d never be signed.”
“Why the fuck would you listen to that utter bullshit?”
Kris laughed shakily and they rocked together, swaying as Adam let himself grip tighter.
“I’m really sorry,” said Kris, muffled. “I’m not leaving. I would never. I just got self-conscious for a second, I guess.”
Adam pulled them apart enough to look Kris in the eye, gripping both of his shoulders. “Don’t scare me like that again, okay? Things are way better with you here. Not so boring.”
Kris nodded and grinned a little.
They broke apart, and instantly Adam missed the feeling of their bodies pressed flush, craved the warmth and security of Kris’ arms around his back. Apparently Kris was thinking along similar lines.
“It’s so freakin’ cold,” he said, hugging himself in the ludicrously overlong jacket.
Adam laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “We have to get you your own coat.”
~*~
From then on, Adam used any excuse to touch Kris. Thigh to thigh as they watched movies or sat in a booth at dinner with Brad and Scarlett. Arms around each other as they walked home. Constant slaps on the back or light brushes to the shoulder and pats on the hair. He was testing the waters, seeing how far Kris would let him go. Whenever Adam thought he had crossed a line, however, Kris would embrace it and push the boundaries even further, to the point where they were practically cuddling every night on the couch as they watched TV.
Adam knew it couldn’t end well. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop it.
Saturday night the week before Christmas, Adam returned home late from clubbing with Brad. He was in a haze, still drunk and maybe a little high from second-hand smoke (he hadn’t let himself indulge in that particular avenue tonight). He couldn’t remember whether he had ended up fucking that guy or not. He had at least been felt up a quite a bit on the dance floor.
It had been kind of nice to let loose, forget about his real life for a while, the life that involved Kris and all the problems that came with him. It was a piece of Adam’s past that he hadn’t returned to in months - a freedom composed of music and glitter, colors and costumes.
He stood in the living room outside Kris’ bedroom door and ran his hands through his hair, fascinated by how the shimmer he had dumped all over himself earlier rained down in slow motion, blending with rapidly melting snow flakes which sprayed everywhere as he rattled his head.
He tossed his jacket onto the couch and stepped forward toward the bathroom to wash off his makeup, but stopped as he caught a snippet of Kris’ voice filtering through the door, open just a crack so that yellow light spilled onto the dark wood floors.
“Katy,” Kris was saying. “Katy, listen.”
If Adam had been sober he might have thought twice about listening in, but in his current state of mind it wasn’t even a debate. He edged closer, careful of his footfall, and positioned his ear closer to the door.
Adam could see shadows crossing the sliver of light, where Kris paced back and forth. Adam held perfectly still, waiting for him to speak again.
“Yeah, I know everyone’s angry. I’m sorry, believe it or not. Just tell them I’m sorry.” Kris sighed. “I know I sounded hesitant the other day but I’m not now. I gave you the wrong impression. I wasn’t... confident at the time.”
Adam's pulse was racing by now. He shifted even closer, gloved hand braced at the door frame.
“I know. But I met someone, Katy. I’m different now. I’m becoming who I actually want to be, and it doesn’t include Arkansas. It’s permanent. I’m permanent. I don’t think you should call anymore. I’m sorry. I’ll try. Okay.”
There was a beep as Kris pressed end, almost as loud as the pounding of Adam’s heart. But before Adam had a chance to digest the significance of a single word, the door flew open and whacked him in the forehead.
“Ouch! Fuck!”
Glitter went flying everywhere.
“Oh my God I’m so sorry!” Kris spluttered, reaching for Adam who was bent double, clutching his head in agony. “Sorry sorry sorry!”
“I’m... fine...” he hissed through blinding pain, and then forced himself to stand up straight.
Kris’ face changed instantly.
It must have been Adam’s appearance: He was wearing a dark gray sparkly vest with nothing underneath, long, black, studded gloves that reached his elbows, a pair of tight, shimmery jeans, and massive knee-high boots. His makeup was full of color, greens and yellows and purples swirled around his eyelids and a delicate smattering of rhinestones stuck to his cheeks.
Kris had never seen him like this before, and even in his haze Adam knew to be nervous, knew he must smell like weed and vodka and sweat and sex. There was no telling how Kris would react.
Kris cleared his throat. “You, uh, go out or something?”
“Um. Yeah. You were asleep when I left, didn’t bother waking you.”
Kris’ hands fidgeted - he was staring at Adam’s boots. “You’re all... dressed up.”
Adam let out a short laugh.
“No, I mean,” Kris continued quickly, gaze now focused on the gloves. “You look different is all... Do you do this a lot?”
Adam shrugged. “Used to more. Brad and I just felt like it tonight. Okay, so I’m gonna go wash - ”
“Wait,” said Kris sharply, thrusting out a hand to block Adam. “I’m feeling a little... off. Will you stay up with me?”
Kris looked so sweet and sad. Adam knew he must be thinking about the phone call, about the life he had left behind.
Adam was determined to give him a reason to stay.
He returned from the bathroom in a soft sleep shirt, makeup washed off, to see Kris already cosy under at least three heavy blankets.
“Get in here,” said Kris, lifting a comforter to reveal an inviting space and looking happier than Adam had ever seen him.
They settled on watching shitty reruns for a ridiculous amount of hours, ripping the hilarious late-night hooker ads to shreds and dying with laughter. “You and me, we’re a comedy duo,” Kris said at one point. Adam agreed - he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed this much. The fun increased when they brought out the vodka, which had Kris thoroughly drunk in five shots. Adam had four more, and by three-thirty they were completely off their heads. Adam felt like a teenager again, getting drunk twice in a night and not caring about anything.
Kris fell asleep first at around six in the morning, stealing most of the covers and leaving Adam to watch the sunrise alone. Even though the peak of drunkenness had long passed by then, Adam let himself pet Kris’ hair for a while against his better judgement. It was unfairly soft and he couldn’t resist, though he thought that Kris would probably have let him do it even if they were both fully awake and sober. Adam also thought that maybe that wouldn’t be a good idea.
Adam’s knuckles skidded down to brush the side of Kris’ face. This was too much. He wasn’t allowed this. But despite the alarms going off somewhere in the sensible, non-sleepy part of his brain, Adam let his palm open to cup Kris’ cheek. He could feel his pulse beating against Kris’ skin, could feel the exchange of heat. Kris’ eyelashes fluttered slightly and warmth spread all the way down to Adam’s toes.
This must be what love is, he thought to himself with no real definition in mind. Just a feeling.
Maybe it was the contact of Adam’s hand. Maybe Kris had felt Adam’s energy as he came to that soft, easy revelation. Maybe it was the cold. Whatever it was, Kris’ eyes opened gently at the most inconvenient moment possible, giving no time for Adam to hide the naked adoration that must have been all over his face.
Kris’ brow furrowed, lips cracking into a curious smile. There was no way he hadn’t seen it.
Adam waited for him to say something, but the silence continued. His heart was pounding. He felt completely awake. The only sounds were of birds chirping and cars rolling by. It was the deadest time of day, when muted blue light made everything look softer, when the places you thought were familiar suddenly seemed new.
Kris’ eyes were full of something, something he wasn’t saying.
Adam let his mouth fall open.
“Kris,” he breathed.
“Yeah?”
Adam realized his hand was still on Kris’ cheek, but couldn’t bring himself to pull it away. He let a finger run across Kris’ stubble. “Is this a really bad idea?” he asked.
Kris grinned and lifted his head. “Probably.”
By the time Adam’s mouth had formed a smile, it was pressed against Kris’.
This was different. It was nothing like he had imagined it to be and nothing like the greedy, sloppy make-outs at the club the night before. It was awkward and gentle. Smooth and dry. But it fit.
Adam pulled back after a few seconds and whispered, “I was performing for you, you know. At the open mic. I saw you and I thought. This guy. I’ve got to impress this guy.”
Kris looked up at him through those lashes Adam loved so much and licked his lips. “No, I didn’t know. I was too busy being impressed by you.”
Adam laughed and ducked his head again, filled with a new rush. A fire. Kris kissed him back with equal energy, bringing a palm firmly down Adam’s back, nails digging in. At the strong, sure touch, Adam felt his body come alive. He was about to go for Kris’ shirt when Kris broke his (absolutely perfect) lips from Adam’s to breathe, or say something.
“Dammit, Kris,” Adam muttered. “I’ve been dying for this for three months.”
Kris craned his neck and peppered kisses all along Adam’s jawline. Adam closed his eyes and threw his head back, letting a wanton sigh escape.
“It’s just, you drove me crazy, talking about freckles all over your body,” said Kris between his kisses, which were quickly traveling down past Adam’s collar bone and dipping below his shirt. “I wanted to see them so badly.”
In response, Adam leaned back and lifted a leg to straddle Kris on the couch. He kneeled over both of Kris’ legs and pulled off his own shirt, tossing it on the floor with vigor.
Kris didn’t laugh. He stretched out his arms and dragged his palms down Adam’s bare chest tantalizingly slowly. “I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew sex with you would be like this.”
It was all the confirmation Adam needed - and so he dived, attacking the place where Kris’ shirt had come undone with wet, open kisses while his hands fumbled with the buttons.
“God, I’m so nervous and I don’t know why,” Adam said, and then Kris’ mouth found his again. Together, they shimmied Kris’ shirt off of him and Adam almost cried at the delicious contact of their skin.
Adam slid his hand down Kris’ side and stroked around to the front of his jeans, pressing there firm and fast. Kris groaned and pushed up into Adam’s touch, and Adam nearly groaned back at the feel of Kris’ cock, urgent and pulsing in his palm. He closed his fingers around it, earning another upward thrust from Kris.
“Please, Adam,” he said, closing his eyes, voice broken.
Adam didn’t need to be asked twice; he had both of their jeans off in under a minute.
Kris was gorgeous like this, blush spreading all down his chest under Adam’s intense, hungry stare. Adam grinned maliciously, gripped Kris’ thighs with both hands and let his mouth drop to close around the head of Kris’ cock.
Kris’ hands went flying - one ended up in Adam’s hair, scraping almost a little too hard, and the other scrabbled at the back of the couch for something to hold onto. Adam just dipped further down, dug his nails into Kris’ thighs, and sucked.
Kris’ whole body jerked and he let out a long, downright pornographic moan as Adam swallowed hard around his cock.
“Adam...” he groaned between heavy breaths. “I’m gonna... I don’t want to come now.”
Adam slid off with a pop and licked his lips. Kris’ eyes widened.
“How do want to come, Kris?”
Adam came to the conclusion that Kris was definitely still drunk, otherwise he would never have said what he said next.
“When you’re in me. I want you to fuck me.”
“Jesus.”
Without taking his eyes off Kris, Adam reached around to the drawer next to the couch, from which he pulled out lube and a condom. And then he leaned forward and draped his body over Kris’ and whispered into his ear, “I want you to watch as I break you in, now.”
Kris nodded frantically as Adam dripped lube all over his fingers and reached downward. Kris jerked at the first touch, squirming but slowly pushing himself on a little more with each curl of Adam’s fingers. When Adam brushed the soft bump, Kris spread his legs and whimpered, grinding down hard.
“Adam, now. I’m ready.”
Adam kissed him, pulled out his fingers, and pushed his cock in tortuously slowly. Kris could barely kiss back, just held his mouth open and breathed heavily, shaking all over. “It’s okay,” Adam said against his lips. “It’s okay.”
It was difficult for a minute when, suddenly, Kris’ arms came around Adam’s back and his hips ground upward. “C’mon.”
It was a sweaty blur as they began moving. Soon every sound but Kris’ pleas for “Harder” began to fade. Adam couldn’t think, he was lost in time, lost from thought and the real world. He couldn’t control the sounds he was making, the words he said over and over that a very small part of him knew he would regret later. For now, nothing was important, and yet everything was. His senses were heightened yet dulled, bright and sharp and focused but only on now. On Kris.
With a strained, high-pitched whine, Kris came and Adam tumbled with him immediately after, riding that wave, riding that peace while they had it.
Because Adam’s happiness always seemed to be temporary.
~*~
Adam didn’t sleep. Kris had dropped off instantly, afterward, content and naive, unthinking. But Adam had extracted himself, thrown on the same coat Kris had once worn, and taken to the streets.
He wasn’t drunk anymore. He just felt empty.
Things had seemed so perfect for those few hours - they had revealed so much, Adam had very nearly owned up to everything. But now as Adam kicked around some slush with his boots and turned a corner, he could feel panic bubbling up inside him, a fear that it was all about to change, that his stupid little crush had ruined it all.
They had been perfect music partners, perfect roommates, perfect everything. They had been slowly changing each other, slowly setting up the other for success. And of course Adam had taken that connection too literally, of course he couldn’t resist.
Kris had still been drunk, Adam was positive. That hadn’t changed the fact that it had pretty much been the most amazing sex he could remember having, but this only worried him further because of the possibility that Kris wouldn’t remember it at all.
He stomped into a puddle of melted snow ferociously. Kris was probably completely freaked out right now. What would happen when they saw each other again? Would Kris regret it? Would he move out? Would he be so disgusted that he’d be on the next plane back to Arkansas?
Then again, he had imagined what our sex life would be like, a small voice in the back of Adam’s head reminded him as he collapsed on a bench somewhere.
He was ashamed of himself for holding on to that little piece of hope, for desperately clinging to the little information he had been given. But nothing Kris had said or done indicated that he felt for Adam as much as Adam felt for him.
Because by now he was pretty sure he was falling in love with Kris Allen.
The feeling had kind of snuck up on him. He should have seen it coming. Perhaps he had begun to fall the second Kris had opened his mouth to sing at the bar. Perhaps it had set in only that morning. But there was no denying that slight rush he got at the mere thought of Kris, that deep, burning glow.
Of course, there was a chance that it would all work together. A chance that he and Kris could play music, be successful, live and be together all at the same time. But that was a fantasy.
It was more likely that history would repeat itself, that Adam would end up tossed out onto the street, alone once again, another mistake stripping his life of comfort and reliability. He would always be alone, chasing the wrong people, the wrong dreams, left with nothing all for the love of music, with no rewards for thinking big, for striving to be larger than life.
In that moment, Adam had never felt lower. He had never felt so worthless. After all the struggle, after trying so hard for so many years, he was tired. He was sick of the life he had chosen to lead. He should have gone to college, should have had a back up plan. And because of his lack of realism and sense, he had run himself into the ground, to the point where he felt he had no choice but to give up.
He had threatened giving up before, but this time he was really going to do it.
He was twenty-seven; he had no one, he was nothing, and it was time to grow up and move on. He didn’t believe in himself anymore.
But he did believe in Kris.
He would move out the very next morning, leaving Kris with his guitar and his chances, and return to L.A. to go back to school and get a real job. New York represented all that was a failure in his life. It was the right thing to do.
Adam rubbed his face with his hands and blinked a couple of times. The scene came into focus, and he realized where he had ended up: in front of the open mic bar.
There was a giant yellow sign pasted in the window behind the frosty glass. In jet black, serious type, it read: SPECIAL OPEN MIC SUNDAY NIGHT AT 8:30 PM - IMPORTANT GUESTS IN ATTENDANCE. TALENT STRONGLY ENCOURAGED TO SIGN UP!
Adam knew what that meant: producers on the lookout for new blood were going to be there. He took out his phone and sent a Kris a text.
Sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. I’ve decided it’s time for me to stop chasing this dream and go back home. But I don’t want you to give up. All I’ve got is a voice. You’ve got something to say. Do me a favor and perform at the club tonight. It’s my last piece of advice to you. It’s been great knowing you. Adam.
It was way too long, Adam knew, but it said what he wanted to say. He sent it.
Within minutes his phone had lit up - Kris was calling him. Adam didn’t answer, just continued wandering the city, resigning himself to the fact that he would be leaving it, and trying to ignore the constant buzz in his pocket.
When eight o’clock rolled around, Adam returned to the apartment. Kris wasn’t there, and neither was his guitar - he had followed Adam’s word and gone to the bar.
He had already begun packing when his phone buzzed again. It was a text from Kris. He opened it before he could stop himself.
I’m not letting you give up until you give it one more shot. Your name is already on the list. Come Home.
Adam stared at it for a full minute. The words “Come Home” appeared separated from the rest of the words, as though elevated. His heart rate was rising, his blood pumping, mind racing. He shouldn’t have opened his phone. He shouldn’t let himself be blinded by temptation, be sucked back into that world.
But as Kris had said. Just one more shot.
~*~
Adam showed up an hour late. He was half hoping he’d missed Kris’ performance, but the other half was dying to see him play one last time.
He stole a seat at the back of the club. Who knew what would happen if he ran into Kris now. He couldn’t afford to change his mind. And so he settled in and tried to blend with the crowd, which was far more diverse than ever; people of all ages, styles, and vocal-types were there. This was turning out to be a bigger deal than Adam had anticipated. Everyone was trying to figure out who the big-executive types were. Some people were saying the club was exaggerating just to draw more customers. Others claimed they recognized representatives from huge labels like Sony.
Adam couldn’t help it - he was nervous for both himself and Kris.
His heart skipped and fluttered a little as Kris’ name was called and he hobbled onto the stage. The déjà vu was overwhelming.
Adam cringed inside; there was no confidence there. Kris’ shoulders were hunched. He seemed jittery and insignificant.
When he gave the crowd a shy little wave, Adam couldn’t stop himself.
“Yeah Kris!” he shouted into the silence. It earned him a few stares, but most importantly, Kris’.
Kris was frozen for only a couple of seconds, gaze locking just long enough for Adam to give him a nod and a gesture to signal gusto, confidence. Kris smiled like he got it, and Adam breathed a huge sigh of relief and tried to ignore the way his heart leapt.
Kris was great, of course. He sang that song he had played for Adam on the couch, the one he had written. It was better than ever. He was emotional, he played to the crowd, and by god he worked that stage.
If he had been impressed with Heartless, Adam was absolutely blown away by this. He was so proud he could hardly clap, couldn’t stand with the roaring club which was unanimously on its feet.
Kris took it all in stride, flashing an adorably sexy grin and downright strutting off the stage. Adam kept waiting for Kris to look at him, but he never did. Adam tried not to be upset about this.
He was feeling pessimistic by the time his name was called, the final singer of the night. He just wanted to get it over with, really, and part of him resented Kris for making him go through this. It was just drawing it out, extending the torture, reminding Adam of the life that had turned out to be only a dream.
He stalked onto the stage and grabbed the mic lazily, like he really didn’t need to be there. He cued the pianist and the opening chords of Come Home pierced sharp and clear through the murmur of the audience. Unconsciously, Adam’s eyes found Kris’.
He was sitting in the middle of the room, alone, just like the first time Adam had sung for him. Only this time, Adam let his gaze rest on Kris for more than a few seconds.
And just as Adam was opening his mouth to sing, he saw words form on Kris’ lips, slow and distinct.
I love you.
Adam didn’t even remember performing. He didn’t even know whether he had gotten through the song, stepping off the stage in a haze, the cheers of the crowd numbing his senses. Had he sung the right words? Had he hit the final note? Had he affected the audience?
He felt a few stray hands brushing his shoulders. People were touching him, saying things, faces blurry and words indistinct. He walked through them, toward where Kris stood, image clear and bright and perfectly still among the busy distractions, swirling around him like their time was moving faster, like Kris was from a different world, like he was under a spotlight.
As Adam closed in, he saw that a man was talking to Kris. He was wearing a tie and had a notebook and pen out. Then the man spotted Adam.
Adam stopped next to them and entered Kris’ world, where time was slower, where every second was more important. But Kris still wasn’t looking at Adam, was just holding out his hand clutching a card and seeming dazed.
“Give us a call,” the man said, handing Adam an identical card.
“Both of us?” Kris said, and the spotlight dimmed a little.
The man nodded. “We’ll arrange a meeting. But I would feel optimistic. You’re both what we’re looking for. You’re fresh. Adam Lambert, right?”
Adam shook his hand and said nothing, cautious.
“Great voice, interesting style,” the man said simply, and then acknowledged Kris one more time before striding away. Adam glanced down at his card.
“Jive... Records...” he stuttered, unable to believe the tiny red print.
Kris’ head shot up, eyes sparkling, and this meant something else entirely.
“Does this mean you’ll stay?” he whispered.
Adam’s heart was pounding. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Suddenly everything he had wanted didn’t seem so impossible any more. He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid, so quick to leave everything behind when all it took was Kris Allen to turn everything around.
Adam could feel the presence of the people swarming about them, and felt stifled, self-conscious. He wanted so badly wrap his arms around Kris. He balled his hands into fists.
“Can we go somewhere?” he said through gritted teeth. “Talk about this in private?”
“No, Adam,” said Kris forcefully and stepping into his space so that Adam could feel his breath. “We’re going to do this right here, right now.”
“What if the guy from Jive is still here and sees us?” said Adam slowly as Kris’ fingertips drifted down his spine, eliciting a shiver.
“I’m only doing what you taught me. I’m showing a little...” Kris’ hand dipped lower, to Adam’s ass, “...confidence.”
Adam grinned at the shocked faces of people surrounding them, and brought his hands around to cup the back of Kris’ neck. Kris let his forehead drop to rest on Adam’s shoulder, and they rocked together a little to the music the bar was playing.
“Did you mean what you said? Right before I sang?” he said softly into Kris’ ear, letting his eyes close to savor the feeling of getting what he wanted. It didn’t often happen.
“Would you stay if I told you I did?”
Adam froze, bringing a palm to Kris’ chest. “I want the truth.”
Kris brought their foreheads together but didn’t kiss him. Instead he spoke.
“I came here and I met you and everything... my life, my career, where I’m going, everything... it’s all changing. And I don’t want that to be over. I don’t ever want it to be over. I want to keep changing because of you.”
“But maybe I don’t want you to change,” Adam breathed. “Maybe you're perfect as you are.”
Kris just shook his head. “Please tell me you’ll stay. I need you to stay.” He voice was so needy and broken. Adam let his nails dig into Kris’ back and felt the brush of lips against the corner of his mouth. “And of course I meant what I said.”
Adam lost it. He gripped Kris’ face with both hands and smashed their lips together, resulting in possibly the sloppiest, messiest, hungriest, hottest kiss he had ever had.
It lasted all of a minute, a glorious, perfect minute, and then Kris pulled back. Adam wanted to slap him and then run his tongue over the burning skin.
“What’s your answer?” Kris said hotly, intensely.
Adam looked at him for a moment.
“Let’s go home,” he said, and for the first time, the future seemed bright.
Later, as they tumbled onto Kris’ bed - their bed, now - and Adam was undoing Kris’ belt buckle, he muttered, “I can’t wait to fuck you now that we’re not drunk.”
Kris started laughing as he lifted Adam’s t-shirt up and off him.
“I wasn’t!”
Adam stopped. “What?”
“I wasn’t drunk. I admitted to myself that I wanted you when I saw you in that outfit. It turned me on like you have no idea.”
Adam grinned evilly and slid Kris’ jeans down. “If you want I can go grab a pair of those boots...”
Kris put out a hand to block him from moving. Adam looked at him curiously, and Kris smiled.
“I like you better like this,” he said. “It’s just you.”
Exactly, Adam thought. Just them.
~*~