After-Idol kNights - And Now The End Is Near, And So We Face The Final Curtain
Title: After-Idol kNights - And Now The End Is Near, And Here We Face The Final Curtain
Rating: G
Pairing(s): Kradam (friendship +), -warning- the end of Kraty
Word Count: 3,132
Beta: pyrosgf who deserves a medal for all she does for me. BB, I LUH YOU!
Note: I know it's been a while. My BFF had a baby on the 11th, and I was there from the 6th until the 24th, so, yeah, kind of a lot going on. Anyway, I thought I'd get this posted for ya- one more mini-chapter, and then the finale! It's very exciting! (That, or it's all the sugar I've eaten today; either way, YAY!) I drove home yesterday (12 hours in a car with my parents...), and I really wanted to get this out for you guys, but the internet connection was craptastic, so, here it is, belatedly. :)
There was the slamming of the door, the roar of the car engine, and then there was nothing. Silence. The clock on the wall had even stopped ticking. Batteries ran out two days ago.
Two days ago.
Two days ago Katy was still here.
Two days ago she smiled at me.
Two days ago she hadn’t said the words, “I want a divorce.”
The dead clock, I swear, ticks once.
Spiteful little device.
Time is supposed to stop when things like this happen. Can’t I be morose and mournful for one peaceful minute? No, instead, I think I’ll collapse onto the floor and fall apart.
: “Please, Kris. Do this for me. For us.”
So I did. I had one of the worst conversations ever with my best friend, and forced myself to distance our contact. It was the closest thing to Hell on Earth I can imagine. But, it worked. For what Katy wanted, anyway. Not that we spent more time together, me still being with the tour and everything. I guess she figured I looked suitably miserable and that made her feel better.
Ouch! Feeling a bit vindictive, are we, Allen?
After what I’ve been through, I’ve earned some pouting.
:
“So, how are you, baby?”
“Katy, you know I don’t--”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Kris, how are you?”
How am I? Well, let’s see. I’m not ‘allowed’ to have extended contact with my best friend, who I also happen to be living with on a bus, and there’s a tension there that we can’t fix. And then I feel guilty because I know that translates on stage, and that’s not fair. Then there’s the guilt for blaming my wife for all these issues, never mind the fact that they are kind of her fault. So, I’ve got professional guilt, personal guilt, a stupid amount of stress out here on the road- which is not how I pictured living my dream would be- and now there’s a cold going around that I am desperate not to catch, but, again, living on a bus.
That’s how I am.
“Alright. Trying not to get sick. Trying to get enough sleep. Entertaining thousands of people a night. You know, livin’ the dream.” I could probably sound a little less bored, but it isn’t the topic that’s frustrating me into this tone of voice.
Katy doesn’t seem to notice.
Shock.
Be nice.
Her first.
… Touché.
“Aw. Well, I won’t keep you, rock star. You take care of yourself, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Hey, I’ll call you tomorrow- or, uh, later today, I guess.”
“Okay, honey. Talk to you then. Sleep well. I love you!”
“Yeah, I will. Love you, too. Bye.”
If you really cared about my sleep, you’d end this asinine Adam embargo.
I fell asleep with a scowl on my face and bitterness in my mouth.
What is that buzzing?! God, stop it! Go away!
Bzz bzz
Bzzzzzzzzzz thud
I turn my head and glare at my cell phone that vibrated its way off the table.
Stupid… “What?” I snap into the phone without checking the ID.
“Whoa, you okay, Kris?”
Adam. Oh, God. Adam.
“N-n-y-yeah, yeah.”
“You sure? You don’t usually--”
“I’m fine. What’s up, Adam?”
It’s not his fault, stop being snippy at him.
It is kinda his fault.
Oh, yeah, totally. I see that. All Adam’s fault that your marriage just fell apart, that your whole sense of self has taken a near-fatal blow. It’s all his fault that you went and--
“Kris? Kris, you’re really worrying me, man.”
“I had a fight with Katy.”
Adam’s quiet, but I can hear his brain working out a way to make me feel better. I’m just trying to bury how bad this all is.
This is not a conversation I want to have with anyone right now. This isn’t something I even want to know, myself. No, I’m gonna work this out and then talk to someone -okay, fine, Adam- about it. Once I’ve got it settled in my mind, then I can share.
“Well, I guess that settles it.”
“What?”
“I’m coming over and we’re going out to lunch.”
“Adam, I--”
“Great! See you in ten.”
He hung up. He hung up on me and now I have to… to what? What do I do? Oh my God, what do I do?!
Way to overreact, there, Kris.
Shut up, you know my freaking out isn’t over that. My psychosis goes much deeper. I am screwed up on a level previously uncharted and oh my God, Adam’s going to be here in ten minutes and I’ve got cry-face.
I will deal with how much of a girl that makes me sound like later.
I splash water on my face, avoiding my reflection.
“Kris?” It’s got a whisper to it, so I must really look awful.
Forgetting my resolve not to check the amount of awful, my head jerks up at the surprise voice.
“You said ten minutes.”
“I lied.”
Adam’s walking toward me, taking the two and a half strides of his long legs from the door to the sink, turning me around and crushing me to him.
This is not helping me stay calm. This might actually be making it worse, cuz I’m feeling heat prick the backs of my eyes again, and there’s a tightness in my throat and a thickness to my tongue and clinging to Adam is probably one of my worse ideas, but it’s all I’ve got. It literally feels like everything in the world is under my hands, wrapped in and around me.
A deep breath, in and out, and Adam’s petting my head the soothing way he does, or did, back in the Mansion and when I got sick on tour. He always takes care of me. Even when he needs taking care of, himself. That’s called something isn’t it? Like altruism or self-sacrifice or selflessness.
Love. It’s called Love, Kristopher.
My inhale gets shaky, just once.
Only in my dreams does that word mean what apparently my heart wishes it meant.
Well. That’s pathetic.
“Oh, baby,” Adam whispers sympathetically.
“I’m okay.” It’s muffled by David Bowie’s face, but Adam hears me.
He pulls me away from him, but keeps strong hold of my upper arm and the back of my head.
Adam looks so concerned, and it’s weird how I want things to be alright more for him than for me.
“It’s okay, really. It just happened, so I’m kind of a mess, but I’m fine. Promise.”
I try a weak smile that Adam doesn’t buy. He moves his hand forward to palm my cheek, wiping his thumb under my eye. I don’t know if there were tears there or not, but the motion felt good, either way. It was more of a comforting gesture, I think, anyway.
Adam holds my face steady as he bends down and to the side to kiss my cheek. It isn’t something we do often, but if ever there were a moment made for the physical sentiment, this would be it.
It’s something else we don’t do all the time, but isn’t completely unprecedented, when I turn as he’s leaning back up and catch his mouth with mine. Shock doesn’t quite cover Adam’s reaction, but he’s quick to improvise. Using his hand, he gentles the kiss to something less than borderline desperate. Something that people who are just good friends would do and not like there’s a kind of passion behind it. A kind of want.
It was wrong of me to do that, I know. But if there were ever to be something, just one thing on this Earth, that could bring world peace or end war or heal sick children, it’d be Adam’s mouth. His voice, his way of speaking, heck, his lips alone could be the UN’s greatest implement in bringing people together.
Adam makes me better, in every way that can be taken. So, I went selfish. I’ll feel bad later, when his taste has worn away. When the magic leaves.
It isn’t very long, three seconds, maybe, and he’s pulling away, hand still firm on my face, fingertips near the back of my head digging in slightly. Adam’s eyes are still closed, lips tight in the middle, even when the tip of his tongue slides out and swipes at them.
Slowly, the sun rises on his face, eyes opening, shining soft with care, small, almost parental smile curving at me. He rubs his thumb a few times over my arm, releasing my face, much to my regret.
“Are you hungry, or would you rather have some tea?” Adam thinks a moment. “Or would you prefer me to go and stop bothering you?”
That last bit had a self-depreciating grin behind it, but I think he might believe what he’s said. Crazy.
“Not bothered at all. Not real hungry, either, though. Some tea sounds great.”
Adam smiles bright and turns toward the door.
“Adam?”
“Hm?” A bit lip and questioning eyebrows follow his gentle murmur.
“Thanks.”
Lips still between teeth, he lets a full grin open his mouth across his face. Then he’s off to the kitchen to start on his famous tea.
“Help yourself to whatever’s in there. If you’re hungry, there’s stuff all over- you’re welcome to it.”
Once the tea is made and we’re both settled on the couch, Adam starts doing that shift thing he does when there’s something he wants to say, but he’s trying to keep it bottled up.
“You two gonna be okay?” The words win out, as they usually do.
I think about how to answer. He’s not casual about it, but he’s trying to make it less of a deal so I don’t freak out and start sobbing again. Adam takes a sip of his tea, doing his best to avoid looking me in the eye while not looking like he’s trying to avoid looking me in the eye.
I have to lie. I don’t want to, especially not to Adam, but… “Mm.” I make a noise of non-committal as a stall tactic.
Adam waits.
“It’s…” I let out a gust of breath. “It’s a little complicated.”
Adam nods. “Is it a work-related thing?” He sort of startles himself. “Not that I’m trying to pry or anything, I just--”
“Nah, man, it’s cool. If there’s anyone I’d talk to about, well, anything, it’d be you.”
Adam makes a quiet ‘aww’ sound and glides three fingers over my forearm a few times, my skin spiking up in their wake.
“Um, it’s- it’s sort of work-related, I guess. I mean, nothing in my life isn’t somehow work-related.” I pout at my tea for a quick moment. “But this, uh, this is… there’s some things that, um, aren’t. About work, I mean.” My wife is leaving me. How do I keep this a secret and still get the benefits of talking with Adam?
“This isn’t about, uhm,” I can almost feel Adam kicking his filterless mouth. He huffs through his nose at himself, but carries on. Because that’s Adam. “This isn’t anything to do with the, uh,” His hands are trying to gesture the words out, which is such a familiar scene to watch, that I’m actually relaxed somewhat by it. “There was that thing on TMZ, with Katy having bad dreams and stuff. This is unrelated, right?”
Oh, where do I begin?
“As far as I know, infidelity is not why she’s so pissed, no.”
Adam seems genuinely relieved for some reason. “Good. Good. I mean, I know you would never-- a-and I didn’t think Katy the type-- but then, I don’t really know her like I know you, and… I’m just digging the biggest hole right now, aren’t I?”
Trust Adam to make me laugh the day my decade-long relationship ends.
Not just ends. Explodes. Burns, crashes, salts the ground, and dies an everlasting death.
Yes. Thank you. That’s both helpful and brand new information to me.
I’m just sayin’.
“Besides, come on, like I have time for an affair. I mean, really. God, I hardly have time for my marriage, how’m I supposed to get away for sordid trysts, too?”
“Ugh, I feel you on that, honey. It almost feels like cheating when I do go out, like I’m supposed to either work or sleep. Talk about married to your job, huh?”
“No lie.”
And now I’ve got nothing else to be married to. What a strange thought; a strange concept.
“She is pretty mad, though- whatever it is?”
“Ohh, yeah.”
Mad? ‘Mad’ would be a dream. ‘Mad’ was left sniveling on the distant shores of Katy’s emotional journey. What’s beyond ‘furious’? Livid? Enraged? Homicidal? Yeah, she’s somewhere around there.
I can’t exactly blame her, though. It’s not like I’m completely innocent in this. In fact, it’s kind of all my fault, really.
Oh, God, it is. It’s all my fault. I did this. I screwed this up.
“Kris? Whatever it is, I’m sure it isn’t all your fault.” Adam is reaching over to put his arm around my shoulders. I don’t know if I’ve said my thoughts out loud, or if he can just read me that well.
I feel myself shake from the inside out, and I am overwhelmed with my being pathetic, but I can’t help trembling like I’ve been out in the cold too long. Maybe that’s it- I’ve been so cold for so long, and it finally just… went to sleep and died.
Adam whispers something in that soothing, verbal cradle voice and everything I am wants nothing more than to climb into his lap, curl my limbs around him, and just stay like that. The thing is, I’ve got a pretty strong feeling that he would let me. And that’s without knowing just how very bad the situation is. In fact, I could be having a perfectly fine day and he’d be willing to let me use him as my own personal snuggle toy. How did I get so lucky?
“You’re my favorite,” I mutter through my hands pressed over my face.
Adam’s rubbing slow circles across my back. He pushes his hand up to my hunched shoulders, squeezes near the crook of my neck on that tense knot I’ve earned, then moves higher and into the short spikes of hair low on the back of my head. He’s petting and raking his fingers through, and if I weren’t such an absolute disaster right now, I’d totally take this opportunity to straddle him, pin him against the couch, and kiss him senseless.
Yeah, let’s screw up the one semi-functional non-blood-relative relationship you have left.
“You’re my favorite, too,” Adam half-whispers back, thumb strong, moving back and forth over the base of my skull.
I’m hunched over my lap, elbows on my knees, face smashed in my palms, but I can sense cracks forming and if I’m not careful, this could go very badly, very quickly. Ignoring the possibility of being overly dramatic, I turn and nearly crash into Adam, arms tight around his waist, head buried between his throat and chest.
He makes an ‘oof’ sound, but doesn’t hesitate to wrap himself around me like a protective shell.
“It’s gonna be okay, Kris. It will all work out. There’s nothing so bad that you can’t work out. You’re going to be just fine.”
I almost wish he didn’t sound so sincere. I almost wish he’d say ‘Screw her, I love you, pack your stuff, we’re leaving.’ Almost.
What’s between ‘almost’ and ‘completely heart, mind and soul’?
“I love you.”
Okay, apparently ‘stupid’ is what’s between there.
That sounds about right.
Adam flinches so slightly that if he weren’t holding onto me like a seat cushion flotation device, I wouldn’t have noticed.
He clears his throat surreptitiously before attempting to repay the comment that he doesn’t understand. I hear his first ‘I’ slide its way back down his throat, forcing him to swallow and try again. “I love you, too, Kris.”
I want to break into pieces, shatter and embed myself into everything Adam is. I want him to break with me like two mirrors crashing together, splintering while still in the air and turning into shards of reflection that no one can separate or put back together individually. We’d be swept up into one heap, left, to never be bothered by anything else in the world ever again.
My mouth tries to keep saying it, over and over until it’s engraved on his skin, tattooed, indelibly branding him so he never forgets.
Fortunately, my mouth is occupied with being smashed into the skin below Adam’s collarbone, leaving only the slightly embarrassing quiver of lips against warm freckles.
The tiny kisses placed on my head, in my hair and on my forehead melt a sigh out of me, the first noise of contentment I’ve made in, well, since the last time I saw Adam, probably. I really am a fantastic example of a loser, aren’t I?
“No, baby, no. Kris, look at me.” A large hand cups my face, forcing me to stare directly into the eyes that have bored their way into my soul, made a cozy little home for themselves, and then branched out until there are times I’d choose the sight of them over my next breath.
Also, this means I need to press harder to keep my mouth quiet.
“Kris, whatever happened, you are going to be fine. Even… even if the very worst were to happen, it still wouldn’t be all your fault, and it certainly wouldn’t make you a loser, come on, now. No one tries harder than you.”
“What if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough?”
“Honey, you’re more than enough, believe me. They don’t come more ‘enough’ than you.”
“I love you.” Seriously, I should not be allowed to say words, like, ever.
Adam just chuckles, smiling down at me with so much sweetness, it feels like the air is made of honey.
“Yeah.” He’s quieter saying that than I expected, maybe even than he expected, if the look on his face is anything to judge by. Something ripples behind Adam’s eyes that makes my heart do funny things and my toes tingle.
Before I do something massively stupid like stretch up and kiss him, I wiggle myself down a little farther, burrowing my head back where it was, and trying not to freaking purr and arch into Adam’s hand as he pets my head again.
“Yeah.” He repeats, just as softly as before, and not for the first time- not even the first time in the last hour- I wish the truth wasn’t so difficult, both to speak and to live.
Rating: G
Pairing(s): Kradam (friendship +), -warning- the end of Kraty
Word Count: 3,132
Beta: pyrosgf who deserves a medal for all she does for me. BB, I LUH YOU!
Note: I know it's been a while. My BFF had a baby on the 11th, and I was there from the 6th until the 24th, so, yeah, kind of a lot going on. Anyway, I thought I'd get this posted for ya- one more mini-chapter, and then the finale! It's very exciting! (That, or it's all the sugar I've eaten today; either way, YAY!) I drove home yesterday (12 hours in a car with my parents...), and I really wanted to get this out for you guys, but the internet connection was craptastic, so, here it is, belatedly. :)
There was the slamming of the door, the roar of the car engine, and then there was nothing. Silence. The clock on the wall had even stopped ticking. Batteries ran out two days ago.
Two days ago.
Two days ago Katy was still here.
Two days ago she smiled at me.
Two days ago she hadn’t said the words, “I want a divorce.”
The dead clock, I swear, ticks once.
Spiteful little device.
Time is supposed to stop when things like this happen. Can’t I be morose and mournful for one peaceful minute? No, instead, I think I’ll collapse onto the floor and fall apart.
So I did. I had one of the worst conversations ever with my best friend, and forced myself to distance our contact. It was the closest thing to Hell on Earth I can imagine. But, it worked. For what Katy wanted, anyway. Not that we spent more time together, me still being with the tour and everything. I guess she figured I looked suitably miserable and that made her feel better.
Ouch! Feeling a bit vindictive, are we, Allen?
After what I’ve been through, I’ve earned some pouting.
:
“So, how are you, baby?”
“Katy, you know I don’t--”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Kris, how are you?”
How am I? Well, let’s see. I’m not ‘allowed’ to have extended contact with my best friend, who I also happen to be living with on a bus, and there’s a tension there that we can’t fix. And then I feel guilty because I know that translates on stage, and that’s not fair. Then there’s the guilt for blaming my wife for all these issues, never mind the fact that they are kind of her fault. So, I’ve got professional guilt, personal guilt, a stupid amount of stress out here on the road- which is not how I pictured living my dream would be- and now there’s a cold going around that I am desperate not to catch, but, again, living on a bus.
That’s how I am.
“Alright. Trying not to get sick. Trying to get enough sleep. Entertaining thousands of people a night. You know, livin’ the dream.” I could probably sound a little less bored, but it isn’t the topic that’s frustrating me into this tone of voice.
Katy doesn’t seem to notice.
Shock.
Be nice.
Her first.
… Touché.
“Aw. Well, I won’t keep you, rock star. You take care of yourself, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Hey, I’ll call you tomorrow- or, uh, later today, I guess.”
“Okay, honey. Talk to you then. Sleep well. I love you!”
“Yeah, I will. Love you, too. Bye.”
If you really cared about my sleep, you’d end this asinine Adam embargo.
I fell asleep with a scowl on my face and bitterness in my mouth.
What is that buzzing?! God, stop it! Go away!
Bzz bzz
Bzzzzzzzzzz thud
I turn my head and glare at my cell phone that vibrated its way off the table.
Stupid… “What?” I snap into the phone without checking the ID.
“Whoa, you okay, Kris?”
Adam. Oh, God. Adam.
“N-n-y-yeah, yeah.”
“You sure? You don’t usually--”
“I’m fine. What’s up, Adam?”
It’s not his fault, stop being snippy at him.
It is kinda his fault.
Oh, yeah, totally. I see that. All Adam’s fault that your marriage just fell apart, that your whole sense of self has taken a near-fatal blow. It’s all his fault that you went and--
“Kris? Kris, you’re really worrying me, man.”
“I had a fight with Katy.”
Adam’s quiet, but I can hear his brain working out a way to make me feel better. I’m just trying to bury how bad this all is.
This is not a conversation I want to have with anyone right now. This isn’t something I even want to know, myself. No, I’m gonna work this out and then talk to someone -okay, fine, Adam- about it. Once I’ve got it settled in my mind, then I can share.
“Well, I guess that settles it.”
“What?”
“I’m coming over and we’re going out to lunch.”
“Adam, I--”
“Great! See you in ten.”
He hung up. He hung up on me and now I have to… to what? What do I do? Oh my God, what do I do?!
Way to overreact, there, Kris.
Shut up, you know my freaking out isn’t over that. My psychosis goes much deeper. I am screwed up on a level previously uncharted and oh my God, Adam’s going to be here in ten minutes and I’ve got cry-face.
I will deal with how much of a girl that makes me sound like later.
I splash water on my face, avoiding my reflection.
“Kris?” It’s got a whisper to it, so I must really look awful.
Forgetting my resolve not to check the amount of awful, my head jerks up at the surprise voice.
“You said ten minutes.”
“I lied.”
Adam’s walking toward me, taking the two and a half strides of his long legs from the door to the sink, turning me around and crushing me to him.
This is not helping me stay calm. This might actually be making it worse, cuz I’m feeling heat prick the backs of my eyes again, and there’s a tightness in my throat and a thickness to my tongue and clinging to Adam is probably one of my worse ideas, but it’s all I’ve got. It literally feels like everything in the world is under my hands, wrapped in and around me.
A deep breath, in and out, and Adam’s petting my head the soothing way he does, or did, back in the Mansion and when I got sick on tour. He always takes care of me. Even when he needs taking care of, himself. That’s called something isn’t it? Like altruism or self-sacrifice or selflessness.
Love. It’s called Love, Kristopher.
My inhale gets shaky, just once.
Only in my dreams does that word mean what apparently my heart wishes it meant.
Well. That’s pathetic.
“Oh, baby,” Adam whispers sympathetically.
“I’m okay.” It’s muffled by David Bowie’s face, but Adam hears me.
He pulls me away from him, but keeps strong hold of my upper arm and the back of my head.
Adam looks so concerned, and it’s weird how I want things to be alright more for him than for me.
“It’s okay, really. It just happened, so I’m kind of a mess, but I’m fine. Promise.”
I try a weak smile that Adam doesn’t buy. He moves his hand forward to palm my cheek, wiping his thumb under my eye. I don’t know if there were tears there or not, but the motion felt good, either way. It was more of a comforting gesture, I think, anyway.
Adam holds my face steady as he bends down and to the side to kiss my cheek. It isn’t something we do often, but if ever there were a moment made for the physical sentiment, this would be it.
It’s something else we don’t do all the time, but isn’t completely unprecedented, when I turn as he’s leaning back up and catch his mouth with mine. Shock doesn’t quite cover Adam’s reaction, but he’s quick to improvise. Using his hand, he gentles the kiss to something less than borderline desperate. Something that people who are just good friends would do and not like there’s a kind of passion behind it. A kind of want.
It was wrong of me to do that, I know. But if there were ever to be something, just one thing on this Earth, that could bring world peace or end war or heal sick children, it’d be Adam’s mouth. His voice, his way of speaking, heck, his lips alone could be the UN’s greatest implement in bringing people together.
Adam makes me better, in every way that can be taken. So, I went selfish. I’ll feel bad later, when his taste has worn away. When the magic leaves.
It isn’t very long, three seconds, maybe, and he’s pulling away, hand still firm on my face, fingertips near the back of my head digging in slightly. Adam’s eyes are still closed, lips tight in the middle, even when the tip of his tongue slides out and swipes at them.
Slowly, the sun rises on his face, eyes opening, shining soft with care, small, almost parental smile curving at me. He rubs his thumb a few times over my arm, releasing my face, much to my regret.
“Are you hungry, or would you rather have some tea?” Adam thinks a moment. “Or would you prefer me to go and stop bothering you?”
That last bit had a self-depreciating grin behind it, but I think he might believe what he’s said. Crazy.
“Not bothered at all. Not real hungry, either, though. Some tea sounds great.”
Adam smiles bright and turns toward the door.
“Adam?”
“Hm?” A bit lip and questioning eyebrows follow his gentle murmur.
“Thanks.”
Lips still between teeth, he lets a full grin open his mouth across his face. Then he’s off to the kitchen to start on his famous tea.
“Help yourself to whatever’s in there. If you’re hungry, there’s stuff all over- you’re welcome to it.”
Once the tea is made and we’re both settled on the couch, Adam starts doing that shift thing he does when there’s something he wants to say, but he’s trying to keep it bottled up.
“You two gonna be okay?” The words win out, as they usually do.
I think about how to answer. He’s not casual about it, but he’s trying to make it less of a deal so I don’t freak out and start sobbing again. Adam takes a sip of his tea, doing his best to avoid looking me in the eye while not looking like he’s trying to avoid looking me in the eye.
I have to lie. I don’t want to, especially not to Adam, but… “Mm.” I make a noise of non-committal as a stall tactic.
Adam waits.
“It’s…” I let out a gust of breath. “It’s a little complicated.”
Adam nods. “Is it a work-related thing?” He sort of startles himself. “Not that I’m trying to pry or anything, I just--”
“Nah, man, it’s cool. If there’s anyone I’d talk to about, well, anything, it’d be you.”
Adam makes a quiet ‘aww’ sound and glides three fingers over my forearm a few times, my skin spiking up in their wake.
“Um, it’s- it’s sort of work-related, I guess. I mean, nothing in my life isn’t somehow work-related.” I pout at my tea for a quick moment. “But this, uh, this is… there’s some things that, um, aren’t. About work, I mean.” My wife is leaving me. How do I keep this a secret and still get the benefits of talking with Adam?
“This isn’t about, uhm,” I can almost feel Adam kicking his filterless mouth. He huffs through his nose at himself, but carries on. Because that’s Adam. “This isn’t anything to do with the, uh,” His hands are trying to gesture the words out, which is such a familiar scene to watch, that I’m actually relaxed somewhat by it. “There was that thing on TMZ, with Katy having bad dreams and stuff. This is unrelated, right?”
Oh, where do I begin?
“As far as I know, infidelity is not why she’s so pissed, no.”
Adam seems genuinely relieved for some reason. “Good. Good. I mean, I know you would never-- a-and I didn’t think Katy the type-- but then, I don’t really know her like I know you, and… I’m just digging the biggest hole right now, aren’t I?”
Trust Adam to make me laugh the day my decade-long relationship ends.
Not just ends. Explodes. Burns, crashes, salts the ground, and dies an everlasting death.
Yes. Thank you. That’s both helpful and brand new information to me.
I’m just sayin’.
“Besides, come on, like I have time for an affair. I mean, really. God, I hardly have time for my marriage, how’m I supposed to get away for sordid trysts, too?”
“Ugh, I feel you on that, honey. It almost feels like cheating when I do go out, like I’m supposed to either work or sleep. Talk about married to your job, huh?”
“No lie.”
And now I’ve got nothing else to be married to. What a strange thought; a strange concept.
“She is pretty mad, though- whatever it is?”
“Ohh, yeah.”
Mad? ‘Mad’ would be a dream. ‘Mad’ was left sniveling on the distant shores of Katy’s emotional journey. What’s beyond ‘furious’? Livid? Enraged? Homicidal? Yeah, she’s somewhere around there.
I can’t exactly blame her, though. It’s not like I’m completely innocent in this. In fact, it’s kind of all my fault, really.
Oh, God, it is. It’s all my fault. I did this. I screwed this up.
“Kris? Whatever it is, I’m sure it isn’t all your fault.” Adam is reaching over to put his arm around my shoulders. I don’t know if I’ve said my thoughts out loud, or if he can just read me that well.
I feel myself shake from the inside out, and I am overwhelmed with my being pathetic, but I can’t help trembling like I’ve been out in the cold too long. Maybe that’s it- I’ve been so cold for so long, and it finally just… went to sleep and died.
Adam whispers something in that soothing, verbal cradle voice and everything I am wants nothing more than to climb into his lap, curl my limbs around him, and just stay like that. The thing is, I’ve got a pretty strong feeling that he would let me. And that’s without knowing just how very bad the situation is. In fact, I could be having a perfectly fine day and he’d be willing to let me use him as my own personal snuggle toy. How did I get so lucky?
“You’re my favorite,” I mutter through my hands pressed over my face.
Adam’s rubbing slow circles across my back. He pushes his hand up to my hunched shoulders, squeezes near the crook of my neck on that tense knot I’ve earned, then moves higher and into the short spikes of hair low on the back of my head. He’s petting and raking his fingers through, and if I weren’t such an absolute disaster right now, I’d totally take this opportunity to straddle him, pin him against the couch, and kiss him senseless.
Yeah, let’s screw up the one semi-functional non-blood-relative relationship you have left.
“You’re my favorite, too,” Adam half-whispers back, thumb strong, moving back and forth over the base of my skull.
I’m hunched over my lap, elbows on my knees, face smashed in my palms, but I can sense cracks forming and if I’m not careful, this could go very badly, very quickly. Ignoring the possibility of being overly dramatic, I turn and nearly crash into Adam, arms tight around his waist, head buried between his throat and chest.
He makes an ‘oof’ sound, but doesn’t hesitate to wrap himself around me like a protective shell.
“It’s gonna be okay, Kris. It will all work out. There’s nothing so bad that you can’t work out. You’re going to be just fine.”
I almost wish he didn’t sound so sincere. I almost wish he’d say ‘Screw her, I love you, pack your stuff, we’re leaving.’ Almost.
What’s between ‘almost’ and ‘completely heart, mind and soul’?
“I love you.”
Okay, apparently ‘stupid’ is what’s between there.
That sounds about right.
Adam flinches so slightly that if he weren’t holding onto me like a seat cushion flotation device, I wouldn’t have noticed.
He clears his throat surreptitiously before attempting to repay the comment that he doesn’t understand. I hear his first ‘I’ slide its way back down his throat, forcing him to swallow and try again. “I love you, too, Kris.”
I want to break into pieces, shatter and embed myself into everything Adam is. I want him to break with me like two mirrors crashing together, splintering while still in the air and turning into shards of reflection that no one can separate or put back together individually. We’d be swept up into one heap, left, to never be bothered by anything else in the world ever again.
My mouth tries to keep saying it, over and over until it’s engraved on his skin, tattooed, indelibly branding him so he never forgets.
Fortunately, my mouth is occupied with being smashed into the skin below Adam’s collarbone, leaving only the slightly embarrassing quiver of lips against warm freckles.
The tiny kisses placed on my head, in my hair and on my forehead melt a sigh out of me, the first noise of contentment I’ve made in, well, since the last time I saw Adam, probably. I really am a fantastic example of a loser, aren’t I?
“No, baby, no. Kris, look at me.” A large hand cups my face, forcing me to stare directly into the eyes that have bored their way into my soul, made a cozy little home for themselves, and then branched out until there are times I’d choose the sight of them over my next breath.
Also, this means I need to press harder to keep my mouth quiet.
“Kris, whatever happened, you are going to be fine. Even… even if the very worst were to happen, it still wouldn’t be all your fault, and it certainly wouldn’t make you a loser, come on, now. No one tries harder than you.”
“What if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough?”
“Honey, you’re more than enough, believe me. They don’t come more ‘enough’ than you.”
“I love you.” Seriously, I should not be allowed to say words, like, ever.
Adam just chuckles, smiling down at me with so much sweetness, it feels like the air is made of honey.
“Yeah.” He’s quieter saying that than I expected, maybe even than he expected, if the look on his face is anything to judge by. Something ripples behind Adam’s eyes that makes my heart do funny things and my toes tingle.
Before I do something massively stupid like stretch up and kiss him, I wiggle myself down a little farther, burrowing my head back where it was, and trying not to freaking purr and arch into Adam’s hand as he pets my head again.
“Yeah.” He repeats, just as softly as before, and not for the first time- not even the first time in the last hour- I wish the truth wasn’t so difficult, both to speak and to live.