Fic: Nightmare Resonance
Author: weisswalder
Title: Nightmare Resonance
Fandom/Pairing: Kris Allen/Adam Lambert
Rating: PG-13, for minor language and sexuality
Summary: "All doubt, despair, and fear become insignificant once the intention of life becomes love, rather than dependence on love." - Sri da Avabhas
Notes: Sequel to Slow Ride and the seventh chapter in the Trials by Fire series. After last week's hiatus, the story continues!
Disclaimer: This is a profitless work of fiction, and is in no way associated with American Idol or its contestants.
A faint tinkling of keys wakens me from my slumber, the open sky outside the windowed wall only beginning to lighten a dark blue. I turn on my side to glance at the alarm clock, rubbing at my bleary eyes when my vision doesn’t come into focus. The fuzzy numbers read 4:02; a grand total of three hours sleep. I reach over to flip the switch on the alarm, pausing in confusion when the switch doesn’t slide over to the OFF position. A slip of paper brushes against my finger, and I pull the yellow Post-It note away from the clock, my eyes watering as I struggle with the neat handwriting against the brightly colored background:
I’ll wake you up. -Kris
A sleepy smile spreads from ear to ear as I curl beneath the covers, rubbing warmth and life into my exhausted body. The escort to the airport will arrive in an hour, my flight followed shortly thereafter. I contemplate a hot shower, exactly what I need to wake up after a long night of tears and partying. I shudder quietly in bed as I recall Allison’s farewell, her determined, fiery presence etched into my mind.
The shudder becomes a full-blown quake when I remember who else would be departing this morning, and I jump from beneath the sheets and in to my discarded clothes from last night, seeking a remedy that the shower could never provide. I feel my way along the wall and down the stairs to the kitchen, no lights turned on to illuminate my path. A bright beam shoots from the doorway of the lounge, the source of that familiar mid-tempo tune from a week past. I shade my eyes with my hand as I enter, yawning.
Kris is sitting at the piano, clean-shaven and fresh-faced as though he had never joined in last night’s festivities, comforting our little sis and teasing me with gradual acceptance. His lithe fingers dance across the ivories, the sad yet hopeful song full and rich against the padded acoustics hanging on the red walls. I shuffle over slowly, Kris smiling when I place both hands on his hip and push gently, sliding him to the far side of the bench. He adjusts keys effortlessly as I sit down next to him.
Kris hums the melody for a while before quietly asking, “Do you know the words?”
I watch the hammers bounce against the strings in the open back of the instrument, mesmerized by their rhythm. “You’ve played this before, but…” A name pops into being: Don Henley, but the title and lyrics remain shrouded in foggy memory. I join him in humming, the notes coming naturally, and it’s only when Kris looks at me, his mouth forming the words as I stumble along that I remember:
the more I know
the less I understand
all the things I thought I knew
I’m learning again
The rest falls into place as we hit the chorus, my voice calmly joining in:
I’ve been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter but I think it’s about
Forgiveness, forgiveness
“Even if, even if, you don’t love me anymore.”
The song dies out, Kris’ expression solemn as he takes my hand, stroking at my knuckles as he stands up, pulling me with him. “Let’s have some breakfast.”
I don’t want to know who the song is for.
He pulls the chair out for me at the table, a light fare of cereal, milk and coffee spread before us. Kris takes a seat next to me, huddling close for warmth. The mansion is deathly quiet in the calm of the morning, the sprinkling of Cheerios into my bowl reverberating around the room. Kris grabs the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and pours to the brim before flooding it with milk.
“How’s a little guy like you going to eat all of that?” I tease, pushing against him with my shoulder.
“LAX to Little Rock, no layover, economy class.” Kris begrudges, poking at the waxy squares with his spoon. “Peanuts may be an option for lunch.”
“Maybe Katy can sneak you something in the carry-on,” I giggle, stuffing the tiny Os into my mouth. Kris doesn’t respond, his gaze far off in the distance as he grabs the coffee pot and pours into my mug, then moving on to his own.
Sort of.
“Nervous about something?”
My question snaps Kris out of his wandering thoughts as he turns to look at me. “Not at all, why?”
I motion to the table, where the dark brew spills over a round container. “You’re pouring your coffee into the sugar pot.”
“Shit.” There’s a long screech as Kris’ chair scraps across the marble floor. He jumps up from his seat and grabs the roll of paper towels from the kitchen, ripping sheets off furiously on the march back and sopping up the liquid. He throws several down on the floor to keep the mess from spreading, stirring at them with his shoes.
“Sorry, I have to clean this up…” He sighs and bends down to recover the soggy remains when I place my hand on his cheek, holding his gaze to mine as I run my thumb along his jaw.
“Leave it. Eat with me.”
And for once, the mess is left behind.
Kris returns to his seat, stirring his bowl and picking at the cereal piece by piece. He focuses his gaze on my face, examining slowly in between bites. “You look horrible.”
I take a sip of my coffee, recoiling from the bitterness and reaching for the sugar. A thick, syrupy mess is all that remains in the bottom of the pot, and Kris raises an eyebrow bemusedly when I pour my coffee straight into the pot and then back, topping it off with milk. “I haven’t been sleeping well. There’s…” I stir at my mug and take another sip, satisfied. “There’s a lot on my mind.”
“…sorry.” He hides behind his bowl, raising it to his lips and taking a sip of the milk.
“You look pretty refreshed today, actually.”
Kris scratches above his ear, leaning back in his chair and taking a long swig from his mug before topping it off. “Well… I haven’t felt well in a while, really. You might just be used to how I look.”
“…sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, please.” Kris sets his coffee down and turns to face me, his knees bumping against my thigh. He rests his elbow on the back of the chair and cradles his head in his hand, sighing. “I’m happy. Really. But…” There’s a long pause as Kris stares at his lap, searching for the words. “I’m so worried, Adam. No matter what I choose, I’m going to hurt someone. I can’t leave Katy behind. I love her.”
I abandon my breakfast to address his concerns, reaching out and holding his hands gently in mine. “I won’t lie, Kris. I’ll be sad if you decide to leave-“ The word ‘us’ comes to mind, but I refuse to say it. Not yet. Becoming attached to the word could only set me up for disappointment later. “-this behind. But you know?” Kris looks up at me, and I can’t help but offer my kindest smile. “I don’t regret it. Do you?”
He shakes his head.
“I’ll always be your friend. So…” I grab him loosely by the shoulders and shake, Kris chuckling as he flops about willingly. “No matter what happens, don’t forget me, alright? Let’s party hard and rock out and live.”
“I’m worried I could forget.” Kris pushes a stray wisp of hair from my face, his chestnut eyes peering into my own. “Forty-eight hours of press, and mobs, and family without your presence… you’ve always been close by to calm me down.” He sniffles and rubs his eyes on his sleeve. “Fuck… look at what you’ve done to me.” He laughs dryly. “I’m such a baby.”
I pull Kris’ hands to my face, willing his fingers to trace every contour, every wrinkle of concern and worry, but the chilly sting of his wedding ring against my skin gives me a better idea.
“Don’t move, okay?” Kris looks slightly frightened as I remove myself from his grip and return upstairs, rummaging through the bathroom cabinets. The small vial of OPI Blue My Mind is stashed behind some face wash and an oversized jar of pomade. A bottle of acetone sits in the opposite cabinet, sporadically stashed separate from the rest of the numerous shades of nail polish, and I hurry back out to the balcony, calling out over the railing.
“Close your eyes.”
Kris’ face scrunches into tiny wrinkles, that adorable pug-like expression that I first recalled from our awkward chat by the pool so many weeks ago. I pull his chair back from the table, Kris exclaiming ‘woah’ as he sways from the sudden movement. His head turns, looking over his shoulder.
“Uh uh!” I wrap my arms around his head, my hands too full to conceal his vision traditionally. “No peeking.” Kris’ lips move against the sensitive skin of my inner arms, mumbling light-heartedly in confusion. I flop myself down in his lap and wrap his arms around me, Kris sighing contentedly and burying his face against my back, breathing deeply. The cap of the nail polish comes off with a light pop, and I wipe the brush against the lip of the bottle before holding his right hand steady.
“Hey! Umm-“ Kris’ hand jerks in my grasp as the paint touches down on his thumbnail, a bright blue streak running to his first knuckle. I scoff and grab the paper towels from earlier, wadding a sheet up and dabbing it against the top of the acetone.
“You have to hold still. You’re making a mess…” The nail polish sloughs off effortlessly, and I start again, pulling two solid stripes up to the cuticle. Kris nips his teeth against my shoulder, his free hand dipping slowly beneath my shirt, fingertips massaging at my lower stomach. My breath breaks free in raspy shudders, and I swiftly cap the nail polish, tossing it, forgotten, on to the table. Kris peeks around my shoulder, his cheekbones rising prominently against my back.
“Oh, God.” He clenches the rest of his fingers into a ball, wiggling his thumb about for inspection. “How am I going to explain this?”
“Be honest.” I suggest, wiping the acetone-soaked paper against my own right thumb, a single digit unmasked, naked. “You wanted something to remember me by.” I hold my thumb next to his, our exchange complete and meaningful. “And now, I have a piece of you to call my own.”
Kris’ posture rights itself, his body elongating as he cranes his face to meet my own. Our lips touch, quiet and calm, his exploring hand moving up to my chest, nails running against my skin. I dart my tongue out quickly, tasting along the soft skin pressed to mine, and pull away. Kris’ eyes are bright, specks of gold refracting from the sun peeking out over the horizon.
“You don’t have to be so gentle…”
A chuckle rises low from my throat. “Oh, but I do. Otherwise you might miss your flight…” Kris’ face flushes pale, quickly turning deep crimson. “But when you return, there can be more. If you want.”
He doesn’t answer, settling for holding me close, rocking together slowly through the minutes until a horn outside sounds.
---
Mom sets a plate of cheese and crackers down in front of me, smiling from across the island. “You look famished.”
I stuff a slice of swiss between two butter crackers, devouring them furiously. “Starving. Just a bit of cereal before it was even light out!” I speak around my mouthful, wiping at the crumbs on the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. Dad flips through the channels on the TV before settling on a basketball game, his casual nature comforting in the whirlwind storm surrounding my return home.
Neil grabs a wheat cracker and cheddar, munching thoughtfully as he looks around the suite. “I never thought I’d stay in a hotel in the city I lived in.” He opens the fridge and grabs a Coke, popping the can. “Are we gonna have to move? The house is swamped with paparazzi.”
Mom leans against the counter, nibbling at the corner of her snack. “The excitement should die down in a couple days…” She gazes over at me, grinning before adding, “Hopefully.” She reaches for the pitcher of lemonade, pouring a glass for herself and filling mine for the second time. “And to think, we’ve had it easy. It’s only a thirty minute flight from here to L.A., but poor Kris, he’s got a nine hour flight to deal with. I can’t believe Katy used to fly from Arkansas every week to see him!”
“Yeah… yeah, I’m sure it was stressful.” It’s only been seven hours since Kris and I parted, and already the distance causes my nerves to ignite in protest. Dad gets up from the couch and joins us in the conversation, piling a huge stack of cheese and crackers.
“How are things going with you two? You seemed pretty buddy-buddy up there on stage last night… are you still having problems?”
I drain the lemonade in one long chug, praying for the conversation to take a turn off its bumpy course. “’Problems’ is such a broad word, don’t you think?”
They all stare back at me, bewildered by my cryptic response.
I sigh and pick up a slice of havarti, tearing it into thin strips on the counter. “It’s nothing. Kris is a great guy.”
“BWOOP BWOOP BWOOP!! ‘Danger, Will Robinson!’” Neil throws a fist into the air, his other hand mussing my hair into a frayed mess. I swat at him, annoyance etched across my face, as he continues. “Like we haven’t heard that before!”
“It’s true.” Dad coughs as he chokes on a large bite of his cracker sandwich. “’A great guy’ is codeword for ‘highly fuckable.’”
“Eber!” Mom’s look is cross as she smacks him against the stomach, Dad simply rolling his eyes and returning to watch the game. Mom glares at his back before returning her attention to me. “Still… honey, you have a crush on him?”
I nod weakly.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that! Kris is a great guy. Even if he is married, that doesn’t mean you can’t be friends. You should just get it out in the open. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“Oh, he understands, trust me.” I retort bitterly, tipping my glass back and sucking vigorously on an ice cube. There’s an uneasy pause in the air as the conversation hits a brick wall.
Neil emerges from the wreckage first, cupping his hand over his mouth as lemonade spills between his fingers. He runs to the sink and ducks his head over the basin, the remainder of his drink spewing forth in a fine yellow mist. “Oh my God, Adam! We all know you’re larger than life, but I didn’t know your super powers included turning straight guys into butt pirates!”
Mom plants a foot against my brother’s ass, pointing to the hallway. Neil giggles and grabs the last of the crackers as he retreats, the empty platter clattering against the green formica counter. She addresses me, alone at last, her eyes wide in shock. “Honey, did you come on to him?”
“No.”
She heaves a huge sigh.
“He came on to me.”
She stops breathing.
“I didn’t ask for this, alright?!” I jump up from my seat, grabbing the platter and placing it in the sink, running water and soap on a sponge and scrubbing forcefully. “It just… happened. I hurt myself and Kris was wrapping my finger, and emotions got heavy, and…” I rinse the plate under the water and rub the remaining moisture off with a towel, scrutinizing the shining white surface for a single fleck of debris when I can’t meet my mother’s eyes. “He tried to kiss me.”
“And?”
“And I stopped him.” I set the platter back down, running my fingers through my hair, trying to push the slicked tendrils back into place. “…at first.”
“Oh, Adam…” Mom closes the short distance between us, fixing my hair with her expert eye before pulling me into a close hug. “Honey, honey… how long has this been going on?”
“A couple weeks,” I sheepishly admit, my arms tensing at my sides. “We haven’t done anything… serious.” My lungs tighten as her embrace becomes tighter. “But I’m not going to apologize, alright?”
She releases me tentatively, holding on to my shoulders for support. “But, sweetie… he has a wife.”
“Yeah, and she knows too!” Mom’s jaw drops so wide that I reach up and close it with two fingers. “We’re… we’re working on it, okay? We don’t even know if this is going to work out. Hell, one of us could be gone next week!” The thought of Kris suddenly departing leaves me misty-eyed, and I duck out of her grasp to grab a napkin, dabbing carefully at my eyes to protect my makeup.
“Now, don’t act like that.” There’s a shuffling of footsteps and a dull scrap on the wooden floor as Mom takes a seat at the island. “You’ve got the power to get through this. And so does Kris. And, though you might have reservations…” She drums her knuckles against the counter, choosing her words with care. “…especially now, Danny has as much a chance, too. You need to believe in yourself.”
“I do.”
“And do you believe in Kris?” A vice on my heart tightens painfully, her words penetrating my core. Because I want to believe in him. I want to believe that Kris could win this all, achieve his dreams, and stay by my side forever.
But I don’t know if he would stay. And by that admission, my equation is thrown into doubt, the time ticking away, the uncertainty and fear tearing away at my own pride and esteem.
If I can’t be strong, do I deserve him at all?
“…I want to. I really want to.”
“Then do so!” She reaches across the island to touch my face, smoothing over the skin like a mother holding her baby for the first time. “But, honey?”
“Yeah, Mom?” Concern wells in my chest as a row of wrinkles furrow on her brow.
“Be careful. This is thin ice you’re treading on.” She leans over the counter and plants a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll always be here if you fall in… but I pray you glide across without breaking the surface.”
---
Facets of colorful light, radiating from the many stained glass windows, beam across the floor of the ancient chapel. Hundreds of figures, their faces and bodies concealed in white robes, sit motionless and silent in the pews, extending back infinitely. The aisles are lined with arrangement after arrangement of red roses, towering above those in attendance.
I’m standing on the dais, garbed head to toe in a crisp black tuxedo, a tall hat balanced upon my head. I’m waiting for someone… and although not a single melody echoes from the grand organ behind me, not a single ruffle of fabric in the crowd, I feel happier than I’ve ever been in my life. Calm.
The gilded double doors at the entrance swing wide, a bright tunnel of sunlight flooding into the church. A pale beauty walks slowly down the aisle, the train of her ebony dress extending for eternity as she approaches. Ruby lips smile quietly behind her veil. Her bouquet of those same red roses is so grandiose that it hides her tiny frame.
She joins me at long last on the dais, her head slightly bowed towards me. Neither of us move for quite some time, the moment ethereal and beautiful. Sparkles of pink bounce off her blonde locks, the light catching the dust floating playfully in the air. I pull the veil back…
Katy flashes a set of brilliant white teeth, her powdered cheeks glowing.
I cradle her tiny, manicured hands with one of my own, the other caressing her cheek. “I always knew… I always knew I’d come back to you. No matter the time, or the distance…”
She balances on the toes of her sleek black heels, bringing her face closer to mine. “You were worth waiting for.”
I reach atop my head and pull off the top hat, cradling it to my chest and bowing. We lean together, our bodies becoming one…
“Stop.”
A single figure stands from the pew, pulling at their robe while the others remain motionless. Kris emerges in the aisle, garbed in a white suit tailored exactly opposite my own. His steps are deliberate and cautious as he approaches us, his hands clasped over his heart.
“You can’t. I love you.” He’s staring at Katy.
“I’m so sorry, love… I’ve found someone new.” Katy’s blissful expression doesn’t falter once, her eyes never leaving mine as she dismisses him.
“You can’t. I love you.” He’s staring at me.
“It was never going to work out… this is all I know.” I reach up and caress Katy’s cheek, the smooth skin there flushing beautifully.
“You can’t. I love you.” He’s staring at the space between us.
I lean down and meld my lips to hers.
There’s a hollow wailing outside, barely audible at first but growing in intensity. The whistle shrieks and moans in a complex cacophony as it whirls around the walls outside, threatening to break in. And with a final, low bellow, the doors rip from their bolts, two heavy wooden projectiles shattering into splinters against the wall behind us. The onlookers disintegrate into dust as the storm rages through our sanctuary, their ashen remains clouding my vision.
Katy screams at my side, the sound drowned out by the violence of the wind. She, too, falls to nothingness, and as I scramble to rearrange her remains, to hold together the last bits of my wife, my hands fall off at the wrists, shattering on the floor and vanishing along with everyone else. I wrap my arms around my shoulders, desperate to be spared, but there is no mercy. My vision lowers erratically as this horrible vengeance claims my legs, my abdomen, my chest, and finally my face, screaming out in agony but choking on dust as my tongue pulverizes.
Satisfied with the feast, the wind rips through the stained glass windows, a million glistening shards descending like snowfall. The eerie calm returns once again, the only survivor one pleading man in the aisle, his frame and clothes absolutely unscathed. Katy and mine’s skulls rest at the dais, and Kris sinks to his knees, crawling on all fours to pick them up.
Time fast forwards, the days becoming seconds, the walls crumbling to stone and mortar foundations, the floor rotting with moss, overgrown with tall grass and dandelions. But for all the centuries that pass, Kris remains in absolute time, forever cradling our bleached skulls in his lap and rocking back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably.
There’s a horrible screaming as I bolt up from bed, and it takes me a full five seconds to realize that it’s my own.
I’m drenched from head to toe in a fine sheen of sweat, a gusty breeze from the open window chilling me to the bone. The roaring echoes of engines issues from the busy thoroughfare below, and I jump up from my bed, wrapping the comforter around my soaked body and slamming the window closed, the thin glass rattling in its frame.
I hurry to the bathroom and run the water in the bathtub, but the water is too cold and the vanity lights are too bright and it’s all too much. I discard my plans and stumble to the corner of the bedroom, slumping to the floor and wrapping my blanket around me like a protective shield.
“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God…” My eyes dart around the room, desperate for comfort and familiarity. But there’s nothing safe and warm about the sparse, under-furnished darkness of my hotel room, the pale walls and faint odor of carbolic reminding me of pain and hospitals and death.
I need him.
I reach above my head, searching for my cell phone on the table. It slides into my lap, and I flip the display open, the time reading 1:49 in baby blue. I flip through my contacts, a dozen faces flying by in a blur: Allison flashing a peace sign, Danny dancing like Wonder Bread was going out of style, two drunken gropes at a nightclub that I’d never call back. I grow frantic as each frame passes with a faint beep, my contact list going on and on until finally Kris appears, caught in practice with his guitar and grinning goofily. The picture turns fuzzy as my hand shakes madly, my thumb hovering over Call.
“…no.” I close the phone and throw it against the bed, the thin black box bouncing safely off the mattress. I pull my knees close to my body and sink against the wall, wiping at my burning eyes when a trail of salty perspiration drips down from my forehead. “I can get through this on my own.”
The phone buzzes against the coarse carpet, green lights dancing as Falling Slowly hums, his voice rich like honey.
I lied.
I scramble to reach the phone, landing on my stomach as I answer the call. “Kris?! Kris, oh God…”
“Uhhh… everything okay?”
I pick myself up, slouching on the end of the bed, my head in my hand. “Yeah… well, no. That is, I mean…” My heart is pounding in my chest, my blood racing to every point except my brain. I can’t concentrate, so I look for a distraction. “…what are you wearing.”
“Umm… nothing?”
“Hmm…” My mind drifts to pleasant thoughts, Kris’ naked and perfect form sprawled out on my bed, only to vanish into ash seconds later. I shudder wildly, the nightmare resurfacing.
“…are you touching yourself?” He chuckles gravelly.
“No. Kris, I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t keep you up this late.”
“It’s alright. I called you, right?”
“Oh, yeah.” There’s an awkward pause as Kris digests my confusion. “What are you still doing up?”
More silence before Kris coughs weakly. “I… just finished some things.”
“’Things?’ What could you possibly-“
“Sex. With Katy.” Kris coughs nervously again, a muffled shuffling in the background. I flop back onto the sagging mattress, curling into a ball and willing the mental image away, yet it holds, a nightmare masking another. After some time, Kris changes the conversation. “Adam, what’s wrong? You sound freaked.”
“I had… a nightmare. A bad one.” I take a few breaths, his soothing voice easing the gallop of my pulse. “Kris, it was so real. I don’t know where the dream ended and reality started. I woke up screaming… umm…”
“Shh, don’t be afraid. I’m here. Tell me what happened.”
“I d-don’t think I can…” My breath seizes in my throat at the possibility of being this brutally honest. My eyes start running, from the irritation or the emotional barrage or a combination of both, I’m not quite sure, and my nerves send me into a violent case of hiccups.
“You can, calm down, shh… Breathe, Adam. ‘No more secrets,’ right? Just take it slow…”
My voice cracks as I clutch my fists in the comforter. “I was… I was at a wedding. Marrying Katy. There were so many people, b-but… they were like ghosts, not moving or anything. A-and…” I shudder a gaspy inhale, my words colliding into one long, unintelligible blur. “You were there and you said you loved me and you said you loved Katy but we just abandoned you and then I kissed her and there was a tornado and everyone fell to pieces and we all died well not all of us you were still alive and the church fell apart andyouheldourskullsandcriedforev-“
“Woah, woah. Okay, calm down…” Kris takes a few deep breaths along with me, my chest rising and falling in time with his. “That’s… that’s a lot to take in, even for me. But it’s just a dream. Just a dream. You’ve had a long day, it’s just nerves-“
“It’s not just nerves!” I jump up from the bed, pacing back and forth from the door to the window. I slam my fist against the wall in frustration, a startled ‘Hey! Quiet down, asshole!’ echoing from the neighboring room. “Kris, I’m scared to death that I’m going to lose you. I’m scared to death that I’m going to hurt someone if I have you. It’s eating me up. I don’t know how long we have left… a couple days. A couple weeks? I’ve never given much thought to the future with someone else, but now… it’s scary.”
Kris doesn’t respond, his breath the only noise coming through the receiver.
“Please, say something…”
There’s a quiet sniffle. “It isn’t easy for me either, you know… I have to think about it all the time. It’s like living a double life, Adam. You make me so happy. I…” Kris’ voice jumps an octave. “I want you to know that, okay? But she’s my wife. My friend… I love her.”
And somehow, that admission soothes my agony. He still loves her. The nightmare flashes in my vision once more, the events playing in reverse, only when the storm unwinds and our bodies rebuild, Kris stands with Katy at his side, the guests in the pews visible and lively and emotional. I’m standing where Kris once was, still begging. My heart fragments and turns dry, threatening to crumble to dust. But at least my body still stands.
That alone is enough.
“Adam, talk to me...”
“How long do I have, Kris?”
Kris takes a deep breath. I imagine him rubbing his neck slowly. “I don’t know.”
“How long, Kris? I need to know.”
“A couple weeks. Maybe longer, but…” Some more shuffling and a heavy sigh. “No less than that. I promise. I’m gonna make it.”
And I feel guilty for even thinking it, but suddenly everyone’s sacrifice seems worth it. Scott, Lil, potentially Danny in a few days… none of this might have happened had Kris left instead of them. They were strong, but Kris was strong. Stronger. Strongest of us all, to throw himself into fire for a chance at a new life.
I want to be strong, too.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Adam, lay down. Put the phone on your pillow…” I do as commanded, unable to fight against him any longer. “Leave it on… and just listen.”
There’s a long silence as I strain to hear, but all that remains is the peace and quiet. The minutes pass uninterrupted before I whisper, “Listen for what?”
“Just… listen.” He breathes. And breathes. And breathes.
And I listen. And lose count at three hundred eighty-five.
Title: Nightmare Resonance
Fandom/Pairing: Kris Allen/Adam Lambert
Rating: PG-13, for minor language and sexuality
Summary: "All doubt, despair, and fear become insignificant once the intention of life becomes love, rather than dependence on love." - Sri da Avabhas
Notes: Sequel to Slow Ride and the seventh chapter in the Trials by Fire series. After last week's hiatus, the story continues!
Disclaimer: This is a profitless work of fiction, and is in no way associated with American Idol or its contestants.
A faint tinkling of keys wakens me from my slumber, the open sky outside the windowed wall only beginning to lighten a dark blue. I turn on my side to glance at the alarm clock, rubbing at my bleary eyes when my vision doesn’t come into focus. The fuzzy numbers read 4:02; a grand total of three hours sleep. I reach over to flip the switch on the alarm, pausing in confusion when the switch doesn’t slide over to the OFF position. A slip of paper brushes against my finger, and I pull the yellow Post-It note away from the clock, my eyes watering as I struggle with the neat handwriting against the brightly colored background:
I’ll wake you up. -Kris
A sleepy smile spreads from ear to ear as I curl beneath the covers, rubbing warmth and life into my exhausted body. The escort to the airport will arrive in an hour, my flight followed shortly thereafter. I contemplate a hot shower, exactly what I need to wake up after a long night of tears and partying. I shudder quietly in bed as I recall Allison’s farewell, her determined, fiery presence etched into my mind.
The shudder becomes a full-blown quake when I remember who else would be departing this morning, and I jump from beneath the sheets and in to my discarded clothes from last night, seeking a remedy that the shower could never provide. I feel my way along the wall and down the stairs to the kitchen, no lights turned on to illuminate my path. A bright beam shoots from the doorway of the lounge, the source of that familiar mid-tempo tune from a week past. I shade my eyes with my hand as I enter, yawning.
Kris is sitting at the piano, clean-shaven and fresh-faced as though he had never joined in last night’s festivities, comforting our little sis and teasing me with gradual acceptance. His lithe fingers dance across the ivories, the sad yet hopeful song full and rich against the padded acoustics hanging on the red walls. I shuffle over slowly, Kris smiling when I place both hands on his hip and push gently, sliding him to the far side of the bench. He adjusts keys effortlessly as I sit down next to him.
Kris hums the melody for a while before quietly asking, “Do you know the words?”
I watch the hammers bounce against the strings in the open back of the instrument, mesmerized by their rhythm. “You’ve played this before, but…” A name pops into being: Don Henley, but the title and lyrics remain shrouded in foggy memory. I join him in humming, the notes coming naturally, and it’s only when Kris looks at me, his mouth forming the words as I stumble along that I remember:
the more I know
the less I understand
all the things I thought I knew
I’m learning again
The rest falls into place as we hit the chorus, my voice calmly joining in:
I’ve been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter but I think it’s about
Forgiveness, forgiveness
“Even if, even if, you don’t love me anymore.”
The song dies out, Kris’ expression solemn as he takes my hand, stroking at my knuckles as he stands up, pulling me with him. “Let’s have some breakfast.”
I don’t want to know who the song is for.
He pulls the chair out for me at the table, a light fare of cereal, milk and coffee spread before us. Kris takes a seat next to me, huddling close for warmth. The mansion is deathly quiet in the calm of the morning, the sprinkling of Cheerios into my bowl reverberating around the room. Kris grabs the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and pours to the brim before flooding it with milk.
“How’s a little guy like you going to eat all of that?” I tease, pushing against him with my shoulder.
“LAX to Little Rock, no layover, economy class.” Kris begrudges, poking at the waxy squares with his spoon. “Peanuts may be an option for lunch.”
“Maybe Katy can sneak you something in the carry-on,” I giggle, stuffing the tiny Os into my mouth. Kris doesn’t respond, his gaze far off in the distance as he grabs the coffee pot and pours into my mug, then moving on to his own.
Sort of.
“Nervous about something?”
My question snaps Kris out of his wandering thoughts as he turns to look at me. “Not at all, why?”
I motion to the table, where the dark brew spills over a round container. “You’re pouring your coffee into the sugar pot.”
“Shit.” There’s a long screech as Kris’ chair scraps across the marble floor. He jumps up from his seat and grabs the roll of paper towels from the kitchen, ripping sheets off furiously on the march back and sopping up the liquid. He throws several down on the floor to keep the mess from spreading, stirring at them with his shoes.
“Sorry, I have to clean this up…” He sighs and bends down to recover the soggy remains when I place my hand on his cheek, holding his gaze to mine as I run my thumb along his jaw.
“Leave it. Eat with me.”
And for once, the mess is left behind.
Kris returns to his seat, stirring his bowl and picking at the cereal piece by piece. He focuses his gaze on my face, examining slowly in between bites. “You look horrible.”
I take a sip of my coffee, recoiling from the bitterness and reaching for the sugar. A thick, syrupy mess is all that remains in the bottom of the pot, and Kris raises an eyebrow bemusedly when I pour my coffee straight into the pot and then back, topping it off with milk. “I haven’t been sleeping well. There’s…” I stir at my mug and take another sip, satisfied. “There’s a lot on my mind.”
“…sorry.” He hides behind his bowl, raising it to his lips and taking a sip of the milk.
“You look pretty refreshed today, actually.”
Kris scratches above his ear, leaning back in his chair and taking a long swig from his mug before topping it off. “Well… I haven’t felt well in a while, really. You might just be used to how I look.”
“…sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, please.” Kris sets his coffee down and turns to face me, his knees bumping against my thigh. He rests his elbow on the back of the chair and cradles his head in his hand, sighing. “I’m happy. Really. But…” There’s a long pause as Kris stares at his lap, searching for the words. “I’m so worried, Adam. No matter what I choose, I’m going to hurt someone. I can’t leave Katy behind. I love her.”
I abandon my breakfast to address his concerns, reaching out and holding his hands gently in mine. “I won’t lie, Kris. I’ll be sad if you decide to leave-“ The word ‘us’ comes to mind, but I refuse to say it. Not yet. Becoming attached to the word could only set me up for disappointment later. “-this behind. But you know?” Kris looks up at me, and I can’t help but offer my kindest smile. “I don’t regret it. Do you?”
He shakes his head.
“I’ll always be your friend. So…” I grab him loosely by the shoulders and shake, Kris chuckling as he flops about willingly. “No matter what happens, don’t forget me, alright? Let’s party hard and rock out and live.”
“I’m worried I could forget.” Kris pushes a stray wisp of hair from my face, his chestnut eyes peering into my own. “Forty-eight hours of press, and mobs, and family without your presence… you’ve always been close by to calm me down.” He sniffles and rubs his eyes on his sleeve. “Fuck… look at what you’ve done to me.” He laughs dryly. “I’m such a baby.”
I pull Kris’ hands to my face, willing his fingers to trace every contour, every wrinkle of concern and worry, but the chilly sting of his wedding ring against my skin gives me a better idea.
“Don’t move, okay?” Kris looks slightly frightened as I remove myself from his grip and return upstairs, rummaging through the bathroom cabinets. The small vial of OPI Blue My Mind is stashed behind some face wash and an oversized jar of pomade. A bottle of acetone sits in the opposite cabinet, sporadically stashed separate from the rest of the numerous shades of nail polish, and I hurry back out to the balcony, calling out over the railing.
“Close your eyes.”
Kris’ face scrunches into tiny wrinkles, that adorable pug-like expression that I first recalled from our awkward chat by the pool so many weeks ago. I pull his chair back from the table, Kris exclaiming ‘woah’ as he sways from the sudden movement. His head turns, looking over his shoulder.
“Uh uh!” I wrap my arms around his head, my hands too full to conceal his vision traditionally. “No peeking.” Kris’ lips move against the sensitive skin of my inner arms, mumbling light-heartedly in confusion. I flop myself down in his lap and wrap his arms around me, Kris sighing contentedly and burying his face against my back, breathing deeply. The cap of the nail polish comes off with a light pop, and I wipe the brush against the lip of the bottle before holding his right hand steady.
“Hey! Umm-“ Kris’ hand jerks in my grasp as the paint touches down on his thumbnail, a bright blue streak running to his first knuckle. I scoff and grab the paper towels from earlier, wadding a sheet up and dabbing it against the top of the acetone.
“You have to hold still. You’re making a mess…” The nail polish sloughs off effortlessly, and I start again, pulling two solid stripes up to the cuticle. Kris nips his teeth against my shoulder, his free hand dipping slowly beneath my shirt, fingertips massaging at my lower stomach. My breath breaks free in raspy shudders, and I swiftly cap the nail polish, tossing it, forgotten, on to the table. Kris peeks around my shoulder, his cheekbones rising prominently against my back.
“Oh, God.” He clenches the rest of his fingers into a ball, wiggling his thumb about for inspection. “How am I going to explain this?”
“Be honest.” I suggest, wiping the acetone-soaked paper against my own right thumb, a single digit unmasked, naked. “You wanted something to remember me by.” I hold my thumb next to his, our exchange complete and meaningful. “And now, I have a piece of you to call my own.”
Kris’ posture rights itself, his body elongating as he cranes his face to meet my own. Our lips touch, quiet and calm, his exploring hand moving up to my chest, nails running against my skin. I dart my tongue out quickly, tasting along the soft skin pressed to mine, and pull away. Kris’ eyes are bright, specks of gold refracting from the sun peeking out over the horizon.
“You don’t have to be so gentle…”
A chuckle rises low from my throat. “Oh, but I do. Otherwise you might miss your flight…” Kris’ face flushes pale, quickly turning deep crimson. “But when you return, there can be more. If you want.”
He doesn’t answer, settling for holding me close, rocking together slowly through the minutes until a horn outside sounds.
---
Mom sets a plate of cheese and crackers down in front of me, smiling from across the island. “You look famished.”
I stuff a slice of swiss between two butter crackers, devouring them furiously. “Starving. Just a bit of cereal before it was even light out!” I speak around my mouthful, wiping at the crumbs on the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. Dad flips through the channels on the TV before settling on a basketball game, his casual nature comforting in the whirlwind storm surrounding my return home.
Neil grabs a wheat cracker and cheddar, munching thoughtfully as he looks around the suite. “I never thought I’d stay in a hotel in the city I lived in.” He opens the fridge and grabs a Coke, popping the can. “Are we gonna have to move? The house is swamped with paparazzi.”
Mom leans against the counter, nibbling at the corner of her snack. “The excitement should die down in a couple days…” She gazes over at me, grinning before adding, “Hopefully.” She reaches for the pitcher of lemonade, pouring a glass for herself and filling mine for the second time. “And to think, we’ve had it easy. It’s only a thirty minute flight from here to L.A., but poor Kris, he’s got a nine hour flight to deal with. I can’t believe Katy used to fly from Arkansas every week to see him!”
“Yeah… yeah, I’m sure it was stressful.” It’s only been seven hours since Kris and I parted, and already the distance causes my nerves to ignite in protest. Dad gets up from the couch and joins us in the conversation, piling a huge stack of cheese and crackers.
“How are things going with you two? You seemed pretty buddy-buddy up there on stage last night… are you still having problems?”
I drain the lemonade in one long chug, praying for the conversation to take a turn off its bumpy course. “’Problems’ is such a broad word, don’t you think?”
They all stare back at me, bewildered by my cryptic response.
I sigh and pick up a slice of havarti, tearing it into thin strips on the counter. “It’s nothing. Kris is a great guy.”
“BWOOP BWOOP BWOOP!! ‘Danger, Will Robinson!’” Neil throws a fist into the air, his other hand mussing my hair into a frayed mess. I swat at him, annoyance etched across my face, as he continues. “Like we haven’t heard that before!”
“It’s true.” Dad coughs as he chokes on a large bite of his cracker sandwich. “’A great guy’ is codeword for ‘highly fuckable.’”
“Eber!” Mom’s look is cross as she smacks him against the stomach, Dad simply rolling his eyes and returning to watch the game. Mom glares at his back before returning her attention to me. “Still… honey, you have a crush on him?”
I nod weakly.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that! Kris is a great guy. Even if he is married, that doesn’t mean you can’t be friends. You should just get it out in the open. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“Oh, he understands, trust me.” I retort bitterly, tipping my glass back and sucking vigorously on an ice cube. There’s an uneasy pause in the air as the conversation hits a brick wall.
Neil emerges from the wreckage first, cupping his hand over his mouth as lemonade spills between his fingers. He runs to the sink and ducks his head over the basin, the remainder of his drink spewing forth in a fine yellow mist. “Oh my God, Adam! We all know you’re larger than life, but I didn’t know your super powers included turning straight guys into butt pirates!”
Mom plants a foot against my brother’s ass, pointing to the hallway. Neil giggles and grabs the last of the crackers as he retreats, the empty platter clattering against the green formica counter. She addresses me, alone at last, her eyes wide in shock. “Honey, did you come on to him?”
“No.”
She heaves a huge sigh.
“He came on to me.”
She stops breathing.
“I didn’t ask for this, alright?!” I jump up from my seat, grabbing the platter and placing it in the sink, running water and soap on a sponge and scrubbing forcefully. “It just… happened. I hurt myself and Kris was wrapping my finger, and emotions got heavy, and…” I rinse the plate under the water and rub the remaining moisture off with a towel, scrutinizing the shining white surface for a single fleck of debris when I can’t meet my mother’s eyes. “He tried to kiss me.”
“And?”
“And I stopped him.” I set the platter back down, running my fingers through my hair, trying to push the slicked tendrils back into place. “…at first.”
“Oh, Adam…” Mom closes the short distance between us, fixing my hair with her expert eye before pulling me into a close hug. “Honey, honey… how long has this been going on?”
“A couple weeks,” I sheepishly admit, my arms tensing at my sides. “We haven’t done anything… serious.” My lungs tighten as her embrace becomes tighter. “But I’m not going to apologize, alright?”
She releases me tentatively, holding on to my shoulders for support. “But, sweetie… he has a wife.”
“Yeah, and she knows too!” Mom’s jaw drops so wide that I reach up and close it with two fingers. “We’re… we’re working on it, okay? We don’t even know if this is going to work out. Hell, one of us could be gone next week!” The thought of Kris suddenly departing leaves me misty-eyed, and I duck out of her grasp to grab a napkin, dabbing carefully at my eyes to protect my makeup.
“Now, don’t act like that.” There’s a shuffling of footsteps and a dull scrap on the wooden floor as Mom takes a seat at the island. “You’ve got the power to get through this. And so does Kris. And, though you might have reservations…” She drums her knuckles against the counter, choosing her words with care. “…especially now, Danny has as much a chance, too. You need to believe in yourself.”
“I do.”
“And do you believe in Kris?” A vice on my heart tightens painfully, her words penetrating my core. Because I want to believe in him. I want to believe that Kris could win this all, achieve his dreams, and stay by my side forever.
But I don’t know if he would stay. And by that admission, my equation is thrown into doubt, the time ticking away, the uncertainty and fear tearing away at my own pride and esteem.
If I can’t be strong, do I deserve him at all?
“…I want to. I really want to.”
“Then do so!” She reaches across the island to touch my face, smoothing over the skin like a mother holding her baby for the first time. “But, honey?”
“Yeah, Mom?” Concern wells in my chest as a row of wrinkles furrow on her brow.
“Be careful. This is thin ice you’re treading on.” She leans over the counter and plants a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll always be here if you fall in… but I pray you glide across without breaking the surface.”
---
Facets of colorful light, radiating from the many stained glass windows, beam across the floor of the ancient chapel. Hundreds of figures, their faces and bodies concealed in white robes, sit motionless and silent in the pews, extending back infinitely. The aisles are lined with arrangement after arrangement of red roses, towering above those in attendance.
I’m standing on the dais, garbed head to toe in a crisp black tuxedo, a tall hat balanced upon my head. I’m waiting for someone… and although not a single melody echoes from the grand organ behind me, not a single ruffle of fabric in the crowd, I feel happier than I’ve ever been in my life. Calm.
The gilded double doors at the entrance swing wide, a bright tunnel of sunlight flooding into the church. A pale beauty walks slowly down the aisle, the train of her ebony dress extending for eternity as she approaches. Ruby lips smile quietly behind her veil. Her bouquet of those same red roses is so grandiose that it hides her tiny frame.
She joins me at long last on the dais, her head slightly bowed towards me. Neither of us move for quite some time, the moment ethereal and beautiful. Sparkles of pink bounce off her blonde locks, the light catching the dust floating playfully in the air. I pull the veil back…
Katy flashes a set of brilliant white teeth, her powdered cheeks glowing.
I cradle her tiny, manicured hands with one of my own, the other caressing her cheek. “I always knew… I always knew I’d come back to you. No matter the time, or the distance…”
She balances on the toes of her sleek black heels, bringing her face closer to mine. “You were worth waiting for.”
I reach atop my head and pull off the top hat, cradling it to my chest and bowing. We lean together, our bodies becoming one…
“Stop.”
A single figure stands from the pew, pulling at their robe while the others remain motionless. Kris emerges in the aisle, garbed in a white suit tailored exactly opposite my own. His steps are deliberate and cautious as he approaches us, his hands clasped over his heart.
“You can’t. I love you.” He’s staring at Katy.
“I’m so sorry, love… I’ve found someone new.” Katy’s blissful expression doesn’t falter once, her eyes never leaving mine as she dismisses him.
“You can’t. I love you.” He’s staring at me.
“It was never going to work out… this is all I know.” I reach up and caress Katy’s cheek, the smooth skin there flushing beautifully.
“You can’t. I love you.” He’s staring at the space between us.
I lean down and meld my lips to hers.
There’s a hollow wailing outside, barely audible at first but growing in intensity. The whistle shrieks and moans in a complex cacophony as it whirls around the walls outside, threatening to break in. And with a final, low bellow, the doors rip from their bolts, two heavy wooden projectiles shattering into splinters against the wall behind us. The onlookers disintegrate into dust as the storm rages through our sanctuary, their ashen remains clouding my vision.
Katy screams at my side, the sound drowned out by the violence of the wind. She, too, falls to nothingness, and as I scramble to rearrange her remains, to hold together the last bits of my wife, my hands fall off at the wrists, shattering on the floor and vanishing along with everyone else. I wrap my arms around my shoulders, desperate to be spared, but there is no mercy. My vision lowers erratically as this horrible vengeance claims my legs, my abdomen, my chest, and finally my face, screaming out in agony but choking on dust as my tongue pulverizes.
Satisfied with the feast, the wind rips through the stained glass windows, a million glistening shards descending like snowfall. The eerie calm returns once again, the only survivor one pleading man in the aisle, his frame and clothes absolutely unscathed. Katy and mine’s skulls rest at the dais, and Kris sinks to his knees, crawling on all fours to pick them up.
Time fast forwards, the days becoming seconds, the walls crumbling to stone and mortar foundations, the floor rotting with moss, overgrown with tall grass and dandelions. But for all the centuries that pass, Kris remains in absolute time, forever cradling our bleached skulls in his lap and rocking back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably.
There’s a horrible screaming as I bolt up from bed, and it takes me a full five seconds to realize that it’s my own.
I’m drenched from head to toe in a fine sheen of sweat, a gusty breeze from the open window chilling me to the bone. The roaring echoes of engines issues from the busy thoroughfare below, and I jump up from my bed, wrapping the comforter around my soaked body and slamming the window closed, the thin glass rattling in its frame.
I hurry to the bathroom and run the water in the bathtub, but the water is too cold and the vanity lights are too bright and it’s all too much. I discard my plans and stumble to the corner of the bedroom, slumping to the floor and wrapping my blanket around me like a protective shield.
“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God…” My eyes dart around the room, desperate for comfort and familiarity. But there’s nothing safe and warm about the sparse, under-furnished darkness of my hotel room, the pale walls and faint odor of carbolic reminding me of pain and hospitals and death.
I need him.
I reach above my head, searching for my cell phone on the table. It slides into my lap, and I flip the display open, the time reading 1:49 in baby blue. I flip through my contacts, a dozen faces flying by in a blur: Allison flashing a peace sign, Danny dancing like Wonder Bread was going out of style, two drunken gropes at a nightclub that I’d never call back. I grow frantic as each frame passes with a faint beep, my contact list going on and on until finally Kris appears, caught in practice with his guitar and grinning goofily. The picture turns fuzzy as my hand shakes madly, my thumb hovering over Call.
“…no.” I close the phone and throw it against the bed, the thin black box bouncing safely off the mattress. I pull my knees close to my body and sink against the wall, wiping at my burning eyes when a trail of salty perspiration drips down from my forehead. “I can get through this on my own.”
The phone buzzes against the coarse carpet, green lights dancing as Falling Slowly hums, his voice rich like honey.
I lied.
I scramble to reach the phone, landing on my stomach as I answer the call. “Kris?! Kris, oh God…”
“Uhhh… everything okay?”
I pick myself up, slouching on the end of the bed, my head in my hand. “Yeah… well, no. That is, I mean…” My heart is pounding in my chest, my blood racing to every point except my brain. I can’t concentrate, so I look for a distraction. “…what are you wearing.”
“Umm… nothing?”
“Hmm…” My mind drifts to pleasant thoughts, Kris’ naked and perfect form sprawled out on my bed, only to vanish into ash seconds later. I shudder wildly, the nightmare resurfacing.
“…are you touching yourself?” He chuckles gravelly.
“No. Kris, I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t keep you up this late.”
“It’s alright. I called you, right?”
“Oh, yeah.” There’s an awkward pause as Kris digests my confusion. “What are you still doing up?”
More silence before Kris coughs weakly. “I… just finished some things.”
“’Things?’ What could you possibly-“
“Sex. With Katy.” Kris coughs nervously again, a muffled shuffling in the background. I flop back onto the sagging mattress, curling into a ball and willing the mental image away, yet it holds, a nightmare masking another. After some time, Kris changes the conversation. “Adam, what’s wrong? You sound freaked.”
“I had… a nightmare. A bad one.” I take a few breaths, his soothing voice easing the gallop of my pulse. “Kris, it was so real. I don’t know where the dream ended and reality started. I woke up screaming… umm…”
“Shh, don’t be afraid. I’m here. Tell me what happened.”
“I d-don’t think I can…” My breath seizes in my throat at the possibility of being this brutally honest. My eyes start running, from the irritation or the emotional barrage or a combination of both, I’m not quite sure, and my nerves send me into a violent case of hiccups.
“You can, calm down, shh… Breathe, Adam. ‘No more secrets,’ right? Just take it slow…”
My voice cracks as I clutch my fists in the comforter. “I was… I was at a wedding. Marrying Katy. There were so many people, b-but… they were like ghosts, not moving or anything. A-and…” I shudder a gaspy inhale, my words colliding into one long, unintelligible blur. “You were there and you said you loved me and you said you loved Katy but we just abandoned you and then I kissed her and there was a tornado and everyone fell to pieces and we all died well not all of us you were still alive and the church fell apart andyouheldourskullsandcriedforev-“
“Woah, woah. Okay, calm down…” Kris takes a few deep breaths along with me, my chest rising and falling in time with his. “That’s… that’s a lot to take in, even for me. But it’s just a dream. Just a dream. You’ve had a long day, it’s just nerves-“
“It’s not just nerves!” I jump up from the bed, pacing back and forth from the door to the window. I slam my fist against the wall in frustration, a startled ‘Hey! Quiet down, asshole!’ echoing from the neighboring room. “Kris, I’m scared to death that I’m going to lose you. I’m scared to death that I’m going to hurt someone if I have you. It’s eating me up. I don’t know how long we have left… a couple days. A couple weeks? I’ve never given much thought to the future with someone else, but now… it’s scary.”
Kris doesn’t respond, his breath the only noise coming through the receiver.
“Please, say something…”
There’s a quiet sniffle. “It isn’t easy for me either, you know… I have to think about it all the time. It’s like living a double life, Adam. You make me so happy. I…” Kris’ voice jumps an octave. “I want you to know that, okay? But she’s my wife. My friend… I love her.”
And somehow, that admission soothes my agony. He still loves her. The nightmare flashes in my vision once more, the events playing in reverse, only when the storm unwinds and our bodies rebuild, Kris stands with Katy at his side, the guests in the pews visible and lively and emotional. I’m standing where Kris once was, still begging. My heart fragments and turns dry, threatening to crumble to dust. But at least my body still stands.
That alone is enough.
“Adam, talk to me...”
“How long do I have, Kris?”
Kris takes a deep breath. I imagine him rubbing his neck slowly. “I don’t know.”
“How long, Kris? I need to know.”
“A couple weeks. Maybe longer, but…” Some more shuffling and a heavy sigh. “No less than that. I promise. I’m gonna make it.”
And I feel guilty for even thinking it, but suddenly everyone’s sacrifice seems worth it. Scott, Lil, potentially Danny in a few days… none of this might have happened had Kris left instead of them. They were strong, but Kris was strong. Stronger. Strongest of us all, to throw himself into fire for a chance at a new life.
I want to be strong, too.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Adam, lay down. Put the phone on your pillow…” I do as commanded, unable to fight against him any longer. “Leave it on… and just listen.”
There’s a long silence as I strain to hear, but all that remains is the peace and quiet. The minutes pass uninterrupted before I whisper, “Listen for what?”
“Just… listen.” He breathes. And breathes. And breathes.
And I listen. And lose count at three hundred eighty-five.