fic: Resolution (part 10)
Title: Resolution (part 10 & epilogue)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama/Angst/Hurt-Comfort
Summary: (part 10) Adam wakes up to find Allison watching over him. The next morning, there is a brief argument, but then the Idols all have breakfast together, and everything seems almost back to normal. Adam feels a little guilty and sad. Kris and Allison soon change that.
Notes: Yes, I’m done. It’s really over, guys. I’m in shock, honestly. I never would’ve thought I’d complete a Kradam fanfic. There’s an epilogue after this, it’ll be up later today or tomorrow.
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Adam slept in a bleary, gray haze for the entire afternoon as the bus slowly rolled along. When night struck, he found himself tossing and turning fitfully, part of him wanting to wake up and the other not. His head felt fuzzy and dizzy, and when he forced his eyes open, it was seized with pain like a touch to a still-bleeding wound. Grimacing, he pressed a palm to his warm brow, and slowly sat up.
It hurt, hurt him to move, and he hated it. He had been hurt before, hurt where it was painful to move, hell... he’d torn a abdominal muscle in WICKED and that was a bitch, but this left him reeling, and he didn’t want to be vulnerable anymore. Blinking, he peered around in the darkness, discovering that he was still on the sofa in the main area of the bus, and he was alone.
No, wait, Allison was there, her small form curled into an armchair, having drifted into sleep while watching over him.
He sat up straighter, moving his legs to the side of the couch and stretching his shoulders experimentally. Dull but throbbing aches shot through his arms and back, and the hollow groan he could hear wrenched from his own lips made him cringe. He ignored the pain and lifted his arm slowly, brushing unruly, damp locks of hair out of his face where they’d stuck with sweat.
Even that much movement hurt him, and the realization of this made him want to scream, to curse wildly in a stream of sentences until he could no longer breathe. Offhand, he thought of lying back down and never getting up, sinking back into the cushions and not moving anymore.
And then, he thought suddenly and rather vehemently, that no, he couldn’t do that. He was stronger, he knew it. He needed to be better. He needed to perform. And he had to. He couldn’t let this take him down.
He pulled himself up, and the action caused a tiny, ragged gasp to escape his dry throat. Pain flared along the nerve endings of his shoulders, and he bit down on his already split, cracked bottom lip. He sat there for a moment, letting it simmer, then die down. But his head still pulsed with an ache far stronger than ever, as if something had exploded inside his brain.
Damn it. He thought angrily. This has got to stop. Now. He couldn’t stand this: feeling helpless, weak, and pained.
He pulled up, his spine going rigid, and the fabric of the shirt he wore brushed against his bandages. He realized then that the amount of heat pouring off of him was staggering; he was absolutely drenched and overwhelmed by waves of hot, stifling air.
Was his fever finally breaking? Ignoring his pain, he tore off his shirt and jacket, although his body protested the action, since Kris had, probably aptly, helped him to put them on. He wanted to sing, to perform. And he knew wasn’t ready to, hated that he wasn’t ready to, not when he was still somewhat weak and shaking and still in pain.
He struggled to reach out to the crutch leaning against the sofa frame, to let it steady him, let it ease him up. His fingers closed around the cool metallic handle and the padded top fit snugly under his arm. He took a deep breath, almost smiling when he found that his lungs didn’t shake or falter and he exhaled without trembling.
His surroundings came into focus. The bus was blanketed in quiet, and he sighed in relief as a cool breeze from a slightly opened window found him, gently swirling through the room and curling through Allison’s bright red hair.
He stood up unsteadily, not rushing himself, but his body still ached in remonstrance. He groaned, letting his head rest in the palm of his hand for a moment. The skin of his face felt clammy and bruised, sweat dripped down his forehead, and every muscle in his body screamed with fatigue, making him feel as if he’d been run over by a steamroller.
There was a glass of water on the table nearby, within reach. With an internal sigh of appreciation and relief, he realized that Kris had probably left that there for him. He wrapped his fingers around it, letting the cold condensation on its exterior cool his shaky, feverish hands. A few moments of careful movement later, he raised it to his lips, wavering on unsteady legs and wincing at the blistering pain of his healing wounds, but standing.
He gulped the whole glass down, relishing the coolness that soothed his bone-dry throat and the way it helped ease his fever. His back was stiff, but his leg muscles felt torn and slippery, and he knew they were weak from not being used a lot recently, overwhelmed by the day’s sudden activities.
Abruptly, he didn’t feel like moving anymore. He was still noticeably tired, and felt irrevocably broken. Why even try?
Almost gruffly, he slid the empty glass back onto the table and pushed the doubts from his mind. He had never been one to give up, and he wasn’t going to give up now.
Adam took another breath that rubbed less painfully in his throat and took a step forward, glancing curiously at Allie.
His mind flashed to Slow Ride, to their crescendo of voices complimenting each other as they soared through each verse and culminating in fervor of beautiful noise at the conclusion of the song.
How he’d missed that. There were so many things he looked forward to getting back to, and the thoughts of them filled him with even more steely determination.
Trying not to wake her, he stumbled forward along the thick, padded carpeting beneath his now bare feet, and away from the confines of the sofa. After a few small steps, he marveled at how he was still moving and the pain was pushed back into the farthest recesses of his mind, replaced by fortitude and unbidden strength.
His desperation almost seemed to fuel his taxed, pain-filled body, and he nearly laughed as he approached the far wall, the snores of numerous other contestants now audible to him from the bunks. He was slightly panting for breath, and the air was thick and hot to him, trickling in and out, but it was strong and unmistakably easier than ever for his lungs to process.
It didn’t surprise him when he nearly fell though, stumbling and flinging out his free arm to seek support on the long wall. He’d felt it coming but pushed it back until his body could heed his command no longer. Stepping carefully over to one of the stiff-backed armchairs, he prepared to prop himself up against its cushions and force himself to sit up, if only to have something else to do besides lay down horizontally and go back to sleep.
Then, his foot brushed against something rough and intruding, bumping against his uninjured ankle, and then he stumbled, landing on arms that slipped treacherously away from the wall and his crutch to catch him. He thudded gently against the sturdy softness of the chair and blackness appeared on the edges of his vision, threatening to lull him back into sleep.
Adam tore himself up and shifted, sitting up on the chair. There was a confused gasp and he shook his head to clear it, trying to kick away whatever he’d almost tripped over. An angry red wave of pain rippled through his broad shoulders and he cursed quietly.
There was someone standing over him now, cool fingers pressed tenderly against his achingly warm forehead. He flinched away at first, startled, but softened a bit when he recognized the figure in front of him, outfitted in familiar pajamas stitched with guitars and musical notes.
Fuck, he hated being so helpless in front of Allie, scaring the poor girl, but he accepted mentally that it was a wonder in its own, given his condition, that his muscles had flexed as if healthy, let alone carried his own weight across the room.
She stared worriedly at him, and he looked away.
“Allie... it’s all right... I just needed some air, to... t-to get up for a second.” The words, to his horror, provoked a tiny cough from his still moisture-deprived throat.
Her hand drew away at that and she snatched up the empty glass, disappearing wordlessly with a determined look on her face. He heard a faucet running briefly in the nearby kitchenette, and then she was back, smiling encouragingly at him.
Adam fought to pull himself into a suitable sitting position again, and immediately pain washed over him in crushing lashes. He locked the muscles of his throat quickly, refusing to let so much as a whimper escape in her presence, though he shook slightly and cringed beneath the storm of torment that flowed through him.
“Always so stubborn,” Came her gentle but amused response. “Here, drink this. I bet you’re fever’s finally going down. That’s good; Kris was worried this whole move had been too much of a shock to your system... what did you fall over?”
One hand scrabbled in the night air and found the offending object. He blinked in recognition, and then chuckled weakly after taking a long sip of the water. “I... its Kris’ guitar case,” he whispered.
“Oh.” She giggled. “Don’t tell him, he’ll feel really bad.” She tossed her head in laughter, bouncy curls clinging to her shoulders. She perched herself on the arm of his chair, grinning. “You look a little better... of course I can’t tell in this lighting too well... but you’re not as pale.”
His fingers closed around hers. “I feel a little better, even than I did this morning.” Impatience flooded him. “But I want to be completely better. I miss singing. I miss... well, dancing... even walking normally.”
Were those tears pricking hotly at the corners of his eyes? He blinked them back, frustrated with himself, tired of Kris and Allie and everyone having to worry about and care for him. His condition was holding him back, holding all of them back from having the time of their lives, touring the country and living their dreams.
The thought was dark and bitter, and one of the tears escaped, trickling down his cheek, scoring a shiny, wet line through the constellations of freckles on his face.
His fumbling fingers squeezed Allie’s hand gently. He raised his other arm, the bandaged one, to wrap it around her, and he wanted tell her he was okay... but he could not find the words to do so.
She stared at him inquisitively, eyes bright with emotion. This wasn’t him, the Adam he or she knew, he was weak and in pain but he knew he could still make it through this, with everyone’s help. Some impossible power held these reassuring thoughts inside and prevented speech from audibly reiterating them, but Allison seemed to understand. She smiled again, a small, but happy smile.
Pulling him into a gentle hug, she sighed and hummed against his ear. He lurched forward and hugged her back, spitting a quiet curse of pain half into his cheek as he did so, and she giggled almost sadly. “Language, Adam,” Came her teasing voice, but then her amusement faded. “You okay?”
Cold, clawlike fingers of pain tore at his back, but he nodded softly into her hair, and she pulled back, reassured.
He willed the powers of the world to make him not be lying to her, to stop his pain, to immobilize his weakness, to make him that Adam again. He shifted his weight until he was seated more comfortably and let a contented grin dazzle his face.
“Good,” She replied finally, satisfaction evident in her tone. “Can I get you anything else? More water? Something to eat?”
“You can get some sleep,” His battered lips turned into a crooked smirk. His hand cradled hers for one final moment, and then he dropped it and pointed, to the more accommodating chair she’d been sprawled upon. “You look tired, sweetie.” His words resonated with something vaguely familiar, something he recognized as his own, and he felt a twinge of hope overpower the darkness of the pain that had slowly been eating away at the facade of his grin. Yes, Adam thought fervently, I really am fine. I’m going to be okay.
Allison yawned, nodding. “I am,” she admitted, and sank into the chair.
He stayed up, thoughts whirling through him at a dizzying pace until sunlight glittered on the horizon outside the tinted bus windows.
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Kris woke with a start and for a moment had no idea where he was. His flailing hand impacted against the smooth hardwood surface of a bed frame, and he slowly realized that he was lying on a bunk, wrapped in its one thin blanket, a bus thrumming with movement under him.
Katy, was his first thought, aching softly for a brief second. That faded and then: Adam, followed by anxious worry.
All the trauma and emotional turmoil he had experienced had been easing slowly off his shoulders gradually as he slept, and he felt slightly lighter now. Kris sat up slowly and rested his shoulders against the wall behind him, tiredly scrubbing his hands over his unshaven cheeks.
There was hope glimmering in the outer reaches of his brain, gently cascading over the echoes and memories of the accident, which had been tearing painful wounds in his heart.
Oh, Adam. How was it that such a freak crash had to happen in conjunction with a fight they’d had? I wish I could take it back, Adam, he thought again, aching. If I could I would in an instant. But there was nothing he could do now on that front - and he found himself still overcome with concern despite all the noticeable brightening in his life.
For a moment he thought Adam was in his rightful place in the bunk above his, but his presence was unmistakable, and the lack of it shot clarity through with Kris’ sleep-muddled brain. He stood, stretching a bit before moving toward the door. You’d better be feeling okay today, Adam, he thought. You have to get better. You’re so close.
He dressed himself quietly, lost in thoughts about the previous day. He could almost feel the slow burn of Adam’s frustration as images of their departure from the hospital came back to him in a rush.
Then, his mind wandered to the impossibly tired and weak-looking Adam he’d left asleep on the sofa the evening before, lines around his eyes and mouth etched in his lingering pain. No, he thought. Stop worrying. He’s fine. He’ll be okay, you’ll see... when you go out there.
He could aptly recognize how badly this experience had shaken him now that it was slowly coming to a close: how almost losing Adam as a friend had crushed him, how seeing him so lifeless and agonized had torn him apart.
But Adam had made it out, and he was going to be okay. Kris clung to that knowledge as he took a deep breath and slid out of the room, straightening his wrinkled shirt as he started toward the main area. He had no desire to see Michael that morning, so he maneuvered silently around the other doors, cautious about not waking or disturbing anyone who could still be asleep.
There were muffled voices up ahead, and Kris quickened his paces, nearly running the last few steps and wrenching open the door to find a pale, shaky Adam who looked as if he shouldn’t even have been awake, let alone standing, arguing with Danny.
Adam swung toward him on his crutch as he entered. “Kris,” he said, his voice tired in greeting and laced with weariness and relief, “Gokey here says the producers told him I shouldn’t even get to come along to watch you guys at rehearsals.” His eyes were huge and dark in his bruised face and his voice trembled with a nervous energy just shy of anger.
“I don’t know,” Kris said. He crossed to him and laid his hands on his arms, supporting him gently. “How are you feeling?” He asked cautiously.
“I’m fine.” He sounded frustrated, impatient. “Let me come. I’ll be joining you all on stage again soon enough and I’m okay... I shouldn’t get left out of just observing because of his.” He indicated his condition with a swish of his bandaged arm. “And I certainly don’t want to just sit on this fucking bus all day.”
Kris swallowed hard, and then fought to calm his anxiety. At the moment, Adam’s face was pleading and sad, and he squeezed his arms comfortingly as he looked him up and down, critically assessing him.
His hair was tousled and he looked ill and terribly young, his face still slightly blanched and accented by his wide blue eyes, eyes that searched Kris’ almost frantically as if desperate for his acceptance. There were flushed spots of pink over his cheekbones, and he trembled silently a bit as he leaned heavily on his crutch. He wasn’t overly warm anymore, but his weary smile had hints of pain in it.
“You should get to come, Adam,” Kris told him finally, projecting as much confidence and encouragement into his voice as he could. “Come anyway. The producers are wrong to try to exclude him.” He said to Danny. “He’s fine. He needs this.”
Danny crinkled his brow and shook his head. “Okay, Allen. Whatever. I don’t think it’s your call... or his, for that matter to make. They’re the ones in charge here.”
Adam practically seethed with anger at the news that they were attempting to temporarily kick him to the curb when Gokey shuffled away.
“I’ve rehearsed my set countless times in the past, in fact... I probably don’t need to practice it; I could do it half-asleep if I really had to.” Kris pointed out suddenly; calling to Danny’s retreating back. “I’ll sit with Adam and watch. Make sure he’s okay, if that’ll please them.”
Adam’s eyes bored into him. “Y-you’d do that for me?” he mumbled, and his eyes fell down to gaze at the carpet. “You’ll stay with me?”
Kris blinked at the heartrending, genuine emotion he saw sparkling in Adam’s face. “I will stay with you. Always,” he promised.
Adam nodded, and swallowed, and suddenly he was that glam-rock superstar everyone knew again, face confident, eyes shining. “Well, I know I’ll be fine if you babysit me,” he said with that teasing grin Kris recognized so well. “Whatever happens.”
His hands came up to squeeze Kris’ arms in return; his thanks could be read easily in his eyes, though he did not voice the gratitude. Kris sent him a smile in return, and then Adam pulled back, noticeably less agitated. His ankle was paining him, Kris thought, noticing how he winced a bit when he shifted his weight.
“You do look better today. But don’t push it. You still need to sit,” Kris told him. “We’re not leaving for rehearsals yet. We’re stopping for breakfast. I’ll get you some food. What will pushing yourself into exhaustion accomplish?”
He took a deep breath. “A-Actually, I need to move,” he said. “I’m sick of sitting, of resting... I swear all my muscles are going to atrophy if I don’t stretch them a bit-” He broke off, sighing. “What I really need is to be completely better. But my body won’t let me do that.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Kris saw Matt and Michael enter the main area and seat themselves wordlessly upon chairs. Kris nearly groaned aloud, for his attempted avoidance of Sarver had failed.
“Maybe you could take a small walk up to the front, say hello to our new driver?” Kris suggested. “There’s a nice-looking seat up there with big cushions and pillows, I’m sure she’d let you sit with her...”
Michael’s eyes flashed. “There is no way in hell I’m letting him touch or get near the front hatch of this bus,” he growled out. “I don’t care if our driver’s a woman... I don’t trust him anywhere near the driving area anyway. We wouldn’t want to risk something happening again.”
Adam flushed, his face flooding with color and infuriation. “Shut the fuck up, Sarver! I did nothing, abso-fucking-lutely nothing, to deserve your pissy ass comments or your shitty treatment of me! So can it, alright? I like guys, okay? And the part of your DNA that makes you a heartless bastard makes that impossible for you to accept... I get that. But honestly, it’d be a whole lot better if you shut your mouth until the tour ends and then go back to Texas to your wife and daughter and never show your face in the same room as me again! ... I’m sure you wouldn’t want to anyway!” he spat back.
“Easy.” The rebuke was gentle and delivered in a way that was intended for both Sarver and Adam. Kris sent wordless reassurance after it to his friend, and then turned to Michael. “Adam’s right,” He told him. “I suggest you listen to him. He needs to exercise a bit, get his body prepared for our shows... shows that I’m sure sold many tickets on the promise of his presence, so unless you wish to voice any respect for Adam’s talent or remorse for your idiotic behavior, I’d say it’d be best for you to keep your mouth shut and let Adam go up to the front of the bus if he so chooses.”
Sullen, Michael set his jaw. “I don’t trust you, Adam,” he ground out. “And Kris - I think you overestimate things. They’d get over it, I mean; I doubt there’d be riots or anything Adam failed to show up at a show or two...”
“Wanna bet?” Adam demanded, as if offended. He leaned forward. “I hate bragging, but I did make it to the finale, right? Someone had to have been out there voting for me. There’d be a lot of flak thrown at the producers if the show went on and I wasn’t there.”
Kris touched his shoulder, urging restraint. “Adam is the best singer to ever perform on American Idol,” He pointed out, voice suddenly low and cold, almost with hidden malice. “It is as simple as that. Never call his talent into question.”
Adam’s eyes were the more shocked out of the two pairs of awestruck eyes that Kris found staring at him. His friend ducked his head, almost blushing, before a big, sloppy grin spread across his face. He seemed to stand taller then despite his weakness, his shoulders straightening. “Thank you, Kris.”
It was simple statement of something Kris, and many of the others, had always taken to be fact, and Kris smiled at Adam’s modest acceptance of the compliment. As if he didn’t know he was born to sing...
Sarver scoffed then, obvious disbelief written on his face. “So everyone says,” he replied. “It’s all hype. We’ve seen a lot of supposedly superstar quality singers on the show get buried in expectations for something incredible and fail to deliver. Sorry, Adam... but it’s all talk. I don’t think you’re all that, like everyone else on the planet seems to.”
“Once I’m thoroughly capable of doing so, and of course, after I’ve kicked your ass several times...” Adam said slowly, “I’d be glad to show you how fucking wrong you are about me, Sarver.”
Irritated, Michael got up and left, headed back toward the area he bunked in. Kris didn’t miss the triumphant grin on Adam’s face, nor the shocked looks on Matt’s and Danny’s, but for the moment he was most concerned with helping Adam stumble forward through the bus, open the front hatch and sink down into the passenger’s seat without injuring himself further.
Adam seemed stronger, more solid, more there, more himself, as he settled into the chair, chuckling, and his eyes roamed over Kris’ face. He propped his crutch against the side of the seat and fluffed a pillow. “Thanks for backing me up there, Kris,” he said, a lopsided smile decorating his face. “This whole Sarver thing is getting out of hand. We might be in for a bumpy ride.”
Kris nodded and laughed, and they both greeted the driver, Ellie. Adam’s eyes slipped closed contentedly then, and his breathing evened out and deepened with slow rhythm. The tight lines of pain around his face smoothed, the tension of his muscles relaxing, and then his fingers were clenching Kris’ hand. He passed his other hand over his eyes for a fleeting moment, but then he smiled again. The bus shuddered to a stop outside a breakfast buffet restaurant.
“What do you want?” Kris asked his friend, fully intending to get out and get Adam’s meal for him, then bring it back to the bus.
Adam swore violently, laughing, then looked at Kris. There was something shining in his eyes that Kris couldn’t remember seeing in awhile and he could feel his breath hitch in surprise. “You know what? I really want go inside, I hate to make you go in and get food for me.”
“But you don’t want someone to recognize us and have pictures of you with a crutch explode all over the internet, right?” Kris guessed.
To his astonishment, Adam shrugged. “People are going to find out eventually. I mean we’re not doing a show tonight for a reason. I hate being... well, being d-dishonest.”
“You’re not being dishonest.” Kris assured him. “You’re laying low, you’re hurt, and you need some time to recover. We all do.”
Adam giggled strangely, and Kris couldn’t help but smile as his friend stood up again, only wavering a little. “Got nothing to hi-ide...” He sang softly, “And never no secrets...”
Kris wanted to hug him, right then and there, just merely because he was singing, he was smiling, and he was Adam. And then, Kris knew he couldn’t bear to make him stay on the bus, even if he had wanted to urge him to stay behind, still worried.
“You know, people might think it’s a little suspicious if all of us go in there and you are missing anyway.” He pointed out, laughing. And so, Kris helped him down the stairs and the Idols began to pour out into the parking lot, each surveying the tiny diner in hunger and excitement.
“What the hell are you doing, Lambert?” Anoop teased, chuckling. “You going to hobble in there?”
“Shut up!” Adam scolded playfully, smirking. Sarver brushed past him, and Kris nearly lunged forward in anger when his friend swayed a little, unsteady as he leaned on his crutch, but Adam ignored him and started toward the door of the restaurant.
His sudden surge of annoyance, mingled with pain and focused concentration, reached Kris, and he scooted forward to walk at his side, ready to support him if need be.
“There’s a table,” Allison pointed out, when the rest of the girls joined them and they entered the building. “By the window.” A few of the patrons looked up from their plates curiously at the group as they moved toward the back corner.
“Kris,” Adam’s terse voice broke into his thoughts. “Hold my crutch for s second?” He glanced over at him and grinned, and Kris accepted it so Adam could seat himself. He looked a bit limp and ragged as he collapsed onto the chair, but he was smiling widely and it looked genuine. “You know, Kris. I’d make sure I don’t make a habit of making you wait on me hand and foot, if I were you.” Kris knew that smile, and so he shook his head, chuckling even as the waitress took their orders.
A few minutes into their wait for their food, the inevitable happened.
The outside world crackled to life, and muffled voices sounded outside the windows as several people with cameras began taking photos. “Ugh, I can see it now...” Lil grimaced into her mug of coffee. “We’ll be the headline tomorrow, since this is our first time out in public since the accident.”
“They certainly don’t waste time, do they?” Danny muttered.
Adam waved politely to one of the people with a sideways swat of his hand. “Well, they know who we are,” he said in an odd, far-away voice.
“They were worried about all of us, you know. The fans. We were all over the news, and people had no idea if we were all okay.” Megan pointed out. “I can’t blame them for being relieved and excited about seeing us all out together. But it might make them wonder why we aren’t doing shows until later this month...”
Adam shrugged as he thoughtfully stirred his tea. “Probably,” he said in reply.
“This is going to suck... now our entire tour schedule is pushed back and we’ll be away from home, from our families longer.” Michael complained loudly, and his eyes were on Adam.
Adam merely looked back, undaunted. “Yeah. But if they didn’t come visit during our hospital stay... they could probably come see us before we start performing again.” He put his chin in his hand and leaned tiredly against the table, musing, “I know Drake said he wanted to. Maybe I’ll tell him to come up and hang out with me... in the front of the bus.”
Sarver choked and sputtered at Adam’s audacity at that comment, his coughs echoing into his cup, and Kris could see Adam’s wicked grin.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Kris said, and Adam laughed at the look on Sarver’s face as some of the others obliviously agreed.
“Maybe I’ll invite Brad too,” he added mischievously.
“You’re fucking disgusting.” Michael mumbled just loud enough for Adam to hear, and the table fell silent, Adam’s teasing grin disappearing and the laughter dying in Kris’ throat.
The waitress brought their plates. There was a moment of awkward silence when she departed, and several of the table’s occupants began to eat.
“Actually Sarver, I think you’re pretty fucking disgusting.” Kris finally said, sitting up tall and ignoring the deadly glare that came to life on the bigger, burlier man’s face.
Adam laughed heartily then, swinging an arm around Kris and giving Sarver a meaningful look. “I love you, Kris Allen,” he said fiercely, and he pressed a soft kiss to Kris’ temple jokingly.
“Oh-” Michael started, frowning and looking down at his food as thought it were suddenly anything but appetizing. He wordlessly pressed a napkin to his mouth, and Kris and Adam burst into laughter, which made Sarver’s frown deepen.
“Aw fuck,” Adam said breathlessly, pressing a hand to his chest, “Stop it... ah, it still hurts to laugh really... hard...”
Michael’s fist clenched around his utensils and his knuckles whitened as he burst out, “What the hell did you just do?”
“What?” Adam answered cheekily, after swallowing a bite of food. Allison and several of the others chuckled. “I do love Kris. Why not tell him about it? Why not express my feelings?”
Sarver looked at his plate, still frowning. “I...”
“Oh, don’t... get your panties in a bunch, Michael.” Adam rolled his eyes, still a bit breathless. “I love Kristopher in the ‘right and godly way’, of course. Besides, that was probably the most platonic kiss I’ve ever given, Kris likes girls, you know. I couldn’t make a successful move on him... even if I wanted to.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Kris giggled into his waffle, choking a little.
“I don’t see how that matters. It was still inappropriate of you,” Sarver said acerbically, but Adam just shook his head as if amused, as he took another bite of his own food.
“I for one… appreciated it.” Kris put in, smirking. “Didn’t expect it, but I’m quite flattered by it. Hope the photogs outside didn’t snap a picture, though...”
Adam chuckled again, then winced and fake-glared at Kris for making him laugh. “Shit, Kris and I are about to be on the cover of The National Enquirer,” he said then, his eyes sparkling. “Get me several copies that I can frame and hang above Sarver’s bed on the bus.” He grinned, and the table erupted into laughter.
Kris realized with a pang how much he’d missed laughing with all of them, and of course with Adam. Sarver’s face was red, and his mouth was curved into a grumpy, tight line.
Breakfast was actually rather pleasant. Exiting the restaurant was tricky, with the small crowd of photographers swarming toward them, but Kris and Allison flanked Adam on each side, protectively making sure he wasn’t jostled around in the chaos.
Questions were fired through the air. Once they’d eluded all of the questions and most of the photos, they were on the road again, headed for the next stop’s arena location for rehearsals. Kris let Adam sit in the front hatch with Ellie, and he stayed to keep him company, leaned against the wall, strumming his guitar thoughtfully.
Random chords and notes spilled from his fingers as he watched Adam’s face, serene in thought. He noted the still-present lines of pain stitched into his skin and the angry bruises around his eye, slightly visible through the fading makeup from that morning. Adam yawned, then cringed a little and shifted his weight, perching his injured ankle high on a pile of pillows.
“Why bother coming?” He asked abruptly, a cynical weariness in his voice. “I kind of understand the point the producers were making earlier now... it is dumb for me to tag along if I’m not even p-performing... practicing anything.”
“I want you to,” Kris said simply. “I don’t want you to stay on this bus by yourself unless of course you want to go to sleep, which is okay. I want you to share in this experience still, Adam. You’re the runner-up, probably should have won the damn thing... you deserve to be up on stage as much as I do, so if you can’t sing just yet, you should at least be there, you know? There’s nothing I want more than for you to be able to sing for your fans.”
“I feel like I’m sort of being a let-down to you... to everyone,” Adam admitted softly, voice small. His face was suddenly a tight mask of pain and sadness. “I know that’s stupid. Why blame myself for an accident? I know,” he bit out. “But I just...”
Kris smiled encouragingly. “Adam,” he replied. He needed to cheer his friend up again, missing the laughter from breakfast, that contagious smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. Stop feeling so sorry for yourself and feeling guilty. We all love and care about you, and that’s that. And feeling as if you’re a disappointment because you got hurt in an accidental crash? Don’t even think about it, man. It’s not your fault.” He chuckled then, making Adam’s head snap curiously in his direction. “I mean, we all know you love attention, Adam... but seriously.”
“What?” Adam asked; eyes dull and tired, but lips forming a tiny grin.
“Getting hurt in a dramatic crash? There are other ways to be the center of attention, you know,” Kris replied, laughing.
Adam looked at him oddly, one eyebrow slanted upward. “No, I can’t possibly imagine. I’m the fucking Queen of the Center of Attention. I founded it, even. There’s no way I’d ever be able to come up with several brilliantly controversial or stand-out ways to get attention. Especially... on the spot.”
“Ring of Fire?” Kris said plaintively, and then froze.
Adam began to laugh, leaning back into the seat and clutching at the sides of his chest, eyes squeezed shut in mirth. “Ring of Fire... oh fuck... I’ll probably have to sing that, again… sometime. Talk about weird... that’s got a whole new connotation now...”
Kris chuckled idly. “Ironic. Very ironic.”
Adam grinned sadly. “Freaky double meanings or not, I can’t wait.” His eyes had turned lost and hollow as he looked out the window, face longing.
“But how are you going dance in platform boots again on a just-healed, weakened ankle?” Allison asked suddenly from behind them.
Adam turned to gaze at her, a goofy smile adorning his face. “I’ve danced in those boots after having more than one drink too many,” He answered playfully. “If I can do it drunk and be okay, I wouldn’t worry-”
“Okay,” She giggled. “Just be careful.”
“He will,” Kris replied, beaming at the thought of Adam dancing again, not to mention drunk and in platform glitter boots.
Adam sighed suddenly. “Fuck this,” he said. “I wish we could do a show now, tonight... I bet it’d be the best therapy. Everyone would feel so much better.”
Allison looked to be in agreement, but she just shook her head. “It’s a nice thought,” she said. “But quite honestly, as excited as I am... I’m glad we get a little time to rest.”
Adam looked relieved that she wasn’t disappointed by their lull of activity, and Kris sent him a quick I-told-you-so look.
“There’s no reason for you to push yourself-” Allie seemed to understand Adam’s qualms, and she approached him, smiling. “Really. Not now, and especially not when we DO start performing again.”
“You’ll need someone to watch your back, and I’m highly qualified for the job,” Kris said, stopping the guitar music and resting the guitar against the chair next to Adam’s crutch.
“You’re hired,” Was all Adam said.
“It’s not like the show could go on without you.” Allison added, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You are the show, Adam. You are the one who brings it all, owns the stage... makes sure we’re all performing at our best. It’s all up to you.”
“No pressure, though? Right?” Adam laughed, and then softened. “I’m glad you think of it that way.” He sighed, illuminating the hints of fatigue that still lingered and the tiny shards of pain that still stabbed at him. “Thank you, both of you... you’re amazing,” he added quickly. “I love you.”
His eyes were somewhat haunted by his past torment but they gleamed with that undeniable spark that was so Adam it nearly made Kris cry out in joy.
“We love you too,” He responded, and Allie nodded, squeezing Adam’s shoulder.
Kris wordlessly approached and leaned against the chair as well, his hand on Adam’s other shoulder in his own momentary gesture of reassurance.
Once he’d fallen asleep, Allison yawned quietly. “We’ll wake him up when we get there... or he’ll be mad at us.” And she tiptoed softly out of the front area, grinning.
Kris followed several moments later.
-------------------------
Epilogue up soon... and I love it.
Sneak peek... Adam holds a press conference about the crash, Kris calls Sarver some bad names, and then they have a rehearsal or the tour, Adam included! :P
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama/Angst/Hurt-Comfort
Summary: (part 10) Adam wakes up to find Allison watching over him. The next morning, there is a brief argument, but then the Idols all have breakfast together, and everything seems almost back to normal. Adam feels a little guilty and sad. Kris and Allison soon change that.
Notes: Yes, I’m done. It’s really over, guys. I’m in shock, honestly. I never would’ve thought I’d complete a Kradam fanfic. There’s an epilogue after this, it’ll be up later today or tomorrow.
------------------------------
Adam slept in a bleary, gray haze for the entire afternoon as the bus slowly rolled along. When night struck, he found himself tossing and turning fitfully, part of him wanting to wake up and the other not. His head felt fuzzy and dizzy, and when he forced his eyes open, it was seized with pain like a touch to a still-bleeding wound. Grimacing, he pressed a palm to his warm brow, and slowly sat up.
It hurt, hurt him to move, and he hated it. He had been hurt before, hurt where it was painful to move, hell... he’d torn a abdominal muscle in WICKED and that was a bitch, but this left him reeling, and he didn’t want to be vulnerable anymore. Blinking, he peered around in the darkness, discovering that he was still on the sofa in the main area of the bus, and he was alone.
No, wait, Allison was there, her small form curled into an armchair, having drifted into sleep while watching over him.
He sat up straighter, moving his legs to the side of the couch and stretching his shoulders experimentally. Dull but throbbing aches shot through his arms and back, and the hollow groan he could hear wrenched from his own lips made him cringe. He ignored the pain and lifted his arm slowly, brushing unruly, damp locks of hair out of his face where they’d stuck with sweat.
Even that much movement hurt him, and the realization of this made him want to scream, to curse wildly in a stream of sentences until he could no longer breathe. Offhand, he thought of lying back down and never getting up, sinking back into the cushions and not moving anymore.
And then, he thought suddenly and rather vehemently, that no, he couldn’t do that. He was stronger, he knew it. He needed to be better. He needed to perform. And he had to. He couldn’t let this take him down.
He pulled himself up, and the action caused a tiny, ragged gasp to escape his dry throat. Pain flared along the nerve endings of his shoulders, and he bit down on his already split, cracked bottom lip. He sat there for a moment, letting it simmer, then die down. But his head still pulsed with an ache far stronger than ever, as if something had exploded inside his brain.
Damn it. He thought angrily. This has got to stop. Now. He couldn’t stand this: feeling helpless, weak, and pained.
He pulled up, his spine going rigid, and the fabric of the shirt he wore brushed against his bandages. He realized then that the amount of heat pouring off of him was staggering; he was absolutely drenched and overwhelmed by waves of hot, stifling air.
Was his fever finally breaking? Ignoring his pain, he tore off his shirt and jacket, although his body protested the action, since Kris had, probably aptly, helped him to put them on. He wanted to sing, to perform. And he knew wasn’t ready to, hated that he wasn’t ready to, not when he was still somewhat weak and shaking and still in pain.
He struggled to reach out to the crutch leaning against the sofa frame, to let it steady him, let it ease him up. His fingers closed around the cool metallic handle and the padded top fit snugly under his arm. He took a deep breath, almost smiling when he found that his lungs didn’t shake or falter and he exhaled without trembling.
His surroundings came into focus. The bus was blanketed in quiet, and he sighed in relief as a cool breeze from a slightly opened window found him, gently swirling through the room and curling through Allison’s bright red hair.
He stood up unsteadily, not rushing himself, but his body still ached in remonstrance. He groaned, letting his head rest in the palm of his hand for a moment. The skin of his face felt clammy and bruised, sweat dripped down his forehead, and every muscle in his body screamed with fatigue, making him feel as if he’d been run over by a steamroller.
There was a glass of water on the table nearby, within reach. With an internal sigh of appreciation and relief, he realized that Kris had probably left that there for him. He wrapped his fingers around it, letting the cold condensation on its exterior cool his shaky, feverish hands. A few moments of careful movement later, he raised it to his lips, wavering on unsteady legs and wincing at the blistering pain of his healing wounds, but standing.
He gulped the whole glass down, relishing the coolness that soothed his bone-dry throat and the way it helped ease his fever. His back was stiff, but his leg muscles felt torn and slippery, and he knew they were weak from not being used a lot recently, overwhelmed by the day’s sudden activities.
Abruptly, he didn’t feel like moving anymore. He was still noticeably tired, and felt irrevocably broken. Why even try?
Almost gruffly, he slid the empty glass back onto the table and pushed the doubts from his mind. He had never been one to give up, and he wasn’t going to give up now.
Adam took another breath that rubbed less painfully in his throat and took a step forward, glancing curiously at Allie.
His mind flashed to Slow Ride, to their crescendo of voices complimenting each other as they soared through each verse and culminating in fervor of beautiful noise at the conclusion of the song.
How he’d missed that. There were so many things he looked forward to getting back to, and the thoughts of them filled him with even more steely determination.
Trying not to wake her, he stumbled forward along the thick, padded carpeting beneath his now bare feet, and away from the confines of the sofa. After a few small steps, he marveled at how he was still moving and the pain was pushed back into the farthest recesses of his mind, replaced by fortitude and unbidden strength.
His desperation almost seemed to fuel his taxed, pain-filled body, and he nearly laughed as he approached the far wall, the snores of numerous other contestants now audible to him from the bunks. He was slightly panting for breath, and the air was thick and hot to him, trickling in and out, but it was strong and unmistakably easier than ever for his lungs to process.
It didn’t surprise him when he nearly fell though, stumbling and flinging out his free arm to seek support on the long wall. He’d felt it coming but pushed it back until his body could heed his command no longer. Stepping carefully over to one of the stiff-backed armchairs, he prepared to prop himself up against its cushions and force himself to sit up, if only to have something else to do besides lay down horizontally and go back to sleep.
Then, his foot brushed against something rough and intruding, bumping against his uninjured ankle, and then he stumbled, landing on arms that slipped treacherously away from the wall and his crutch to catch him. He thudded gently against the sturdy softness of the chair and blackness appeared on the edges of his vision, threatening to lull him back into sleep.
Adam tore himself up and shifted, sitting up on the chair. There was a confused gasp and he shook his head to clear it, trying to kick away whatever he’d almost tripped over. An angry red wave of pain rippled through his broad shoulders and he cursed quietly.
There was someone standing over him now, cool fingers pressed tenderly against his achingly warm forehead. He flinched away at first, startled, but softened a bit when he recognized the figure in front of him, outfitted in familiar pajamas stitched with guitars and musical notes.
Fuck, he hated being so helpless in front of Allie, scaring the poor girl, but he accepted mentally that it was a wonder in its own, given his condition, that his muscles had flexed as if healthy, let alone carried his own weight across the room.
She stared worriedly at him, and he looked away.
“Allie... it’s all right... I just needed some air, to... t-to get up for a second.” The words, to his horror, provoked a tiny cough from his still moisture-deprived throat.
Her hand drew away at that and she snatched up the empty glass, disappearing wordlessly with a determined look on her face. He heard a faucet running briefly in the nearby kitchenette, and then she was back, smiling encouragingly at him.
Adam fought to pull himself into a suitable sitting position again, and immediately pain washed over him in crushing lashes. He locked the muscles of his throat quickly, refusing to let so much as a whimper escape in her presence, though he shook slightly and cringed beneath the storm of torment that flowed through him.
“Always so stubborn,” Came her gentle but amused response. “Here, drink this. I bet you’re fever’s finally going down. That’s good; Kris was worried this whole move had been too much of a shock to your system... what did you fall over?”
One hand scrabbled in the night air and found the offending object. He blinked in recognition, and then chuckled weakly after taking a long sip of the water. “I... its Kris’ guitar case,” he whispered.
“Oh.” She giggled. “Don’t tell him, he’ll feel really bad.” She tossed her head in laughter, bouncy curls clinging to her shoulders. She perched herself on the arm of his chair, grinning. “You look a little better... of course I can’t tell in this lighting too well... but you’re not as pale.”
His fingers closed around hers. “I feel a little better, even than I did this morning.” Impatience flooded him. “But I want to be completely better. I miss singing. I miss... well, dancing... even walking normally.”
Were those tears pricking hotly at the corners of his eyes? He blinked them back, frustrated with himself, tired of Kris and Allie and everyone having to worry about and care for him. His condition was holding him back, holding all of them back from having the time of their lives, touring the country and living their dreams.
The thought was dark and bitter, and one of the tears escaped, trickling down his cheek, scoring a shiny, wet line through the constellations of freckles on his face.
His fumbling fingers squeezed Allie’s hand gently. He raised his other arm, the bandaged one, to wrap it around her, and he wanted tell her he was okay... but he could not find the words to do so.
She stared at him inquisitively, eyes bright with emotion. This wasn’t him, the Adam he or she knew, he was weak and in pain but he knew he could still make it through this, with everyone’s help. Some impossible power held these reassuring thoughts inside and prevented speech from audibly reiterating them, but Allison seemed to understand. She smiled again, a small, but happy smile.
Pulling him into a gentle hug, she sighed and hummed against his ear. He lurched forward and hugged her back, spitting a quiet curse of pain half into his cheek as he did so, and she giggled almost sadly. “Language, Adam,” Came her teasing voice, but then her amusement faded. “You okay?”
Cold, clawlike fingers of pain tore at his back, but he nodded softly into her hair, and she pulled back, reassured.
He willed the powers of the world to make him not be lying to her, to stop his pain, to immobilize his weakness, to make him that Adam again. He shifted his weight until he was seated more comfortably and let a contented grin dazzle his face.
“Good,” She replied finally, satisfaction evident in her tone. “Can I get you anything else? More water? Something to eat?”
“You can get some sleep,” His battered lips turned into a crooked smirk. His hand cradled hers for one final moment, and then he dropped it and pointed, to the more accommodating chair she’d been sprawled upon. “You look tired, sweetie.” His words resonated with something vaguely familiar, something he recognized as his own, and he felt a twinge of hope overpower the darkness of the pain that had slowly been eating away at the facade of his grin. Yes, Adam thought fervently, I really am fine. I’m going to be okay.
Allison yawned, nodding. “I am,” she admitted, and sank into the chair.
He stayed up, thoughts whirling through him at a dizzying pace until sunlight glittered on the horizon outside the tinted bus windows.
-------------------------
Kris woke with a start and for a moment had no idea where he was. His flailing hand impacted against the smooth hardwood surface of a bed frame, and he slowly realized that he was lying on a bunk, wrapped in its one thin blanket, a bus thrumming with movement under him.
Katy, was his first thought, aching softly for a brief second. That faded and then: Adam, followed by anxious worry.
All the trauma and emotional turmoil he had experienced had been easing slowly off his shoulders gradually as he slept, and he felt slightly lighter now. Kris sat up slowly and rested his shoulders against the wall behind him, tiredly scrubbing his hands over his unshaven cheeks.
There was hope glimmering in the outer reaches of his brain, gently cascading over the echoes and memories of the accident, which had been tearing painful wounds in his heart.
Oh, Adam. How was it that such a freak crash had to happen in conjunction with a fight they’d had? I wish I could take it back, Adam, he thought again, aching. If I could I would in an instant. But there was nothing he could do now on that front - and he found himself still overcome with concern despite all the noticeable brightening in his life.
For a moment he thought Adam was in his rightful place in the bunk above his, but his presence was unmistakable, and the lack of it shot clarity through with Kris’ sleep-muddled brain. He stood, stretching a bit before moving toward the door. You’d better be feeling okay today, Adam, he thought. You have to get better. You’re so close.
He dressed himself quietly, lost in thoughts about the previous day. He could almost feel the slow burn of Adam’s frustration as images of their departure from the hospital came back to him in a rush.
Then, his mind wandered to the impossibly tired and weak-looking Adam he’d left asleep on the sofa the evening before, lines around his eyes and mouth etched in his lingering pain. No, he thought. Stop worrying. He’s fine. He’ll be okay, you’ll see... when you go out there.
He could aptly recognize how badly this experience had shaken him now that it was slowly coming to a close: how almost losing Adam as a friend had crushed him, how seeing him so lifeless and agonized had torn him apart.
But Adam had made it out, and he was going to be okay. Kris clung to that knowledge as he took a deep breath and slid out of the room, straightening his wrinkled shirt as he started toward the main area. He had no desire to see Michael that morning, so he maneuvered silently around the other doors, cautious about not waking or disturbing anyone who could still be asleep.
There were muffled voices up ahead, and Kris quickened his paces, nearly running the last few steps and wrenching open the door to find a pale, shaky Adam who looked as if he shouldn’t even have been awake, let alone standing, arguing with Danny.
Adam swung toward him on his crutch as he entered. “Kris,” he said, his voice tired in greeting and laced with weariness and relief, “Gokey here says the producers told him I shouldn’t even get to come along to watch you guys at rehearsals.” His eyes were huge and dark in his bruised face and his voice trembled with a nervous energy just shy of anger.
“I don’t know,” Kris said. He crossed to him and laid his hands on his arms, supporting him gently. “How are you feeling?” He asked cautiously.
“I’m fine.” He sounded frustrated, impatient. “Let me come. I’ll be joining you all on stage again soon enough and I’m okay... I shouldn’t get left out of just observing because of his.” He indicated his condition with a swish of his bandaged arm. “And I certainly don’t want to just sit on this fucking bus all day.”
Kris swallowed hard, and then fought to calm his anxiety. At the moment, Adam’s face was pleading and sad, and he squeezed his arms comfortingly as he looked him up and down, critically assessing him.
His hair was tousled and he looked ill and terribly young, his face still slightly blanched and accented by his wide blue eyes, eyes that searched Kris’ almost frantically as if desperate for his acceptance. There were flushed spots of pink over his cheekbones, and he trembled silently a bit as he leaned heavily on his crutch. He wasn’t overly warm anymore, but his weary smile had hints of pain in it.
“You should get to come, Adam,” Kris told him finally, projecting as much confidence and encouragement into his voice as he could. “Come anyway. The producers are wrong to try to exclude him.” He said to Danny. “He’s fine. He needs this.”
Danny crinkled his brow and shook his head. “Okay, Allen. Whatever. I don’t think it’s your call... or his, for that matter to make. They’re the ones in charge here.”
Adam practically seethed with anger at the news that they were attempting to temporarily kick him to the curb when Gokey shuffled away.
“I’ve rehearsed my set countless times in the past, in fact... I probably don’t need to practice it; I could do it half-asleep if I really had to.” Kris pointed out suddenly; calling to Danny’s retreating back. “I’ll sit with Adam and watch. Make sure he’s okay, if that’ll please them.”
Adam’s eyes bored into him. “Y-you’d do that for me?” he mumbled, and his eyes fell down to gaze at the carpet. “You’ll stay with me?”
Kris blinked at the heartrending, genuine emotion he saw sparkling in Adam’s face. “I will stay with you. Always,” he promised.
Adam nodded, and swallowed, and suddenly he was that glam-rock superstar everyone knew again, face confident, eyes shining. “Well, I know I’ll be fine if you babysit me,” he said with that teasing grin Kris recognized so well. “Whatever happens.”
His hands came up to squeeze Kris’ arms in return; his thanks could be read easily in his eyes, though he did not voice the gratitude. Kris sent him a smile in return, and then Adam pulled back, noticeably less agitated. His ankle was paining him, Kris thought, noticing how he winced a bit when he shifted his weight.
“You do look better today. But don’t push it. You still need to sit,” Kris told him. “We’re not leaving for rehearsals yet. We’re stopping for breakfast. I’ll get you some food. What will pushing yourself into exhaustion accomplish?”
He took a deep breath. “A-Actually, I need to move,” he said. “I’m sick of sitting, of resting... I swear all my muscles are going to atrophy if I don’t stretch them a bit-” He broke off, sighing. “What I really need is to be completely better. But my body won’t let me do that.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Kris saw Matt and Michael enter the main area and seat themselves wordlessly upon chairs. Kris nearly groaned aloud, for his attempted avoidance of Sarver had failed.
“Maybe you could take a small walk up to the front, say hello to our new driver?” Kris suggested. “There’s a nice-looking seat up there with big cushions and pillows, I’m sure she’d let you sit with her...”
Michael’s eyes flashed. “There is no way in hell I’m letting him touch or get near the front hatch of this bus,” he growled out. “I don’t care if our driver’s a woman... I don’t trust him anywhere near the driving area anyway. We wouldn’t want to risk something happening again.”
Adam flushed, his face flooding with color and infuriation. “Shut the fuck up, Sarver! I did nothing, abso-fucking-lutely nothing, to deserve your pissy ass comments or your shitty treatment of me! So can it, alright? I like guys, okay? And the part of your DNA that makes you a heartless bastard makes that impossible for you to accept... I get that. But honestly, it’d be a whole lot better if you shut your mouth until the tour ends and then go back to Texas to your wife and daughter and never show your face in the same room as me again! ... I’m sure you wouldn’t want to anyway!” he spat back.
“Easy.” The rebuke was gentle and delivered in a way that was intended for both Sarver and Adam. Kris sent wordless reassurance after it to his friend, and then turned to Michael. “Adam’s right,” He told him. “I suggest you listen to him. He needs to exercise a bit, get his body prepared for our shows... shows that I’m sure sold many tickets on the promise of his presence, so unless you wish to voice any respect for Adam’s talent or remorse for your idiotic behavior, I’d say it’d be best for you to keep your mouth shut and let Adam go up to the front of the bus if he so chooses.”
Sullen, Michael set his jaw. “I don’t trust you, Adam,” he ground out. “And Kris - I think you overestimate things. They’d get over it, I mean; I doubt there’d be riots or anything Adam failed to show up at a show or two...”
“Wanna bet?” Adam demanded, as if offended. He leaned forward. “I hate bragging, but I did make it to the finale, right? Someone had to have been out there voting for me. There’d be a lot of flak thrown at the producers if the show went on and I wasn’t there.”
Kris touched his shoulder, urging restraint. “Adam is the best singer to ever perform on American Idol,” He pointed out, voice suddenly low and cold, almost with hidden malice. “It is as simple as that. Never call his talent into question.”
Adam’s eyes were the more shocked out of the two pairs of awestruck eyes that Kris found staring at him. His friend ducked his head, almost blushing, before a big, sloppy grin spread across his face. He seemed to stand taller then despite his weakness, his shoulders straightening. “Thank you, Kris.”
It was simple statement of something Kris, and many of the others, had always taken to be fact, and Kris smiled at Adam’s modest acceptance of the compliment. As if he didn’t know he was born to sing...
Sarver scoffed then, obvious disbelief written on his face. “So everyone says,” he replied. “It’s all hype. We’ve seen a lot of supposedly superstar quality singers on the show get buried in expectations for something incredible and fail to deliver. Sorry, Adam... but it’s all talk. I don’t think you’re all that, like everyone else on the planet seems to.”
“Once I’m thoroughly capable of doing so, and of course, after I’ve kicked your ass several times...” Adam said slowly, “I’d be glad to show you how fucking wrong you are about me, Sarver.”
Irritated, Michael got up and left, headed back toward the area he bunked in. Kris didn’t miss the triumphant grin on Adam’s face, nor the shocked looks on Matt’s and Danny’s, but for the moment he was most concerned with helping Adam stumble forward through the bus, open the front hatch and sink down into the passenger’s seat without injuring himself further.
Adam seemed stronger, more solid, more there, more himself, as he settled into the chair, chuckling, and his eyes roamed over Kris’ face. He propped his crutch against the side of the seat and fluffed a pillow. “Thanks for backing me up there, Kris,” he said, a lopsided smile decorating his face. “This whole Sarver thing is getting out of hand. We might be in for a bumpy ride.”
Kris nodded and laughed, and they both greeted the driver, Ellie. Adam’s eyes slipped closed contentedly then, and his breathing evened out and deepened with slow rhythm. The tight lines of pain around his face smoothed, the tension of his muscles relaxing, and then his fingers were clenching Kris’ hand. He passed his other hand over his eyes for a fleeting moment, but then he smiled again. The bus shuddered to a stop outside a breakfast buffet restaurant.
“What do you want?” Kris asked his friend, fully intending to get out and get Adam’s meal for him, then bring it back to the bus.
Adam swore violently, laughing, then looked at Kris. There was something shining in his eyes that Kris couldn’t remember seeing in awhile and he could feel his breath hitch in surprise. “You know what? I really want go inside, I hate to make you go in and get food for me.”
“But you don’t want someone to recognize us and have pictures of you with a crutch explode all over the internet, right?” Kris guessed.
To his astonishment, Adam shrugged. “People are going to find out eventually. I mean we’re not doing a show tonight for a reason. I hate being... well, being d-dishonest.”
“You’re not being dishonest.” Kris assured him. “You’re laying low, you’re hurt, and you need some time to recover. We all do.”
Adam giggled strangely, and Kris couldn’t help but smile as his friend stood up again, only wavering a little. “Got nothing to hi-ide...” He sang softly, “And never no secrets...”
Kris wanted to hug him, right then and there, just merely because he was singing, he was smiling, and he was Adam. And then, Kris knew he couldn’t bear to make him stay on the bus, even if he had wanted to urge him to stay behind, still worried.
“You know, people might think it’s a little suspicious if all of us go in there and you are missing anyway.” He pointed out, laughing. And so, Kris helped him down the stairs and the Idols began to pour out into the parking lot, each surveying the tiny diner in hunger and excitement.
“What the hell are you doing, Lambert?” Anoop teased, chuckling. “You going to hobble in there?”
“Shut up!” Adam scolded playfully, smirking. Sarver brushed past him, and Kris nearly lunged forward in anger when his friend swayed a little, unsteady as he leaned on his crutch, but Adam ignored him and started toward the door of the restaurant.
His sudden surge of annoyance, mingled with pain and focused concentration, reached Kris, and he scooted forward to walk at his side, ready to support him if need be.
“There’s a table,” Allison pointed out, when the rest of the girls joined them and they entered the building. “By the window.” A few of the patrons looked up from their plates curiously at the group as they moved toward the back corner.
“Kris,” Adam’s terse voice broke into his thoughts. “Hold my crutch for s second?” He glanced over at him and grinned, and Kris accepted it so Adam could seat himself. He looked a bit limp and ragged as he collapsed onto the chair, but he was smiling widely and it looked genuine. “You know, Kris. I’d make sure I don’t make a habit of making you wait on me hand and foot, if I were you.” Kris knew that smile, and so he shook his head, chuckling even as the waitress took their orders.
A few minutes into their wait for their food, the inevitable happened.
The outside world crackled to life, and muffled voices sounded outside the windows as several people with cameras began taking photos. “Ugh, I can see it now...” Lil grimaced into her mug of coffee. “We’ll be the headline tomorrow, since this is our first time out in public since the accident.”
“They certainly don’t waste time, do they?” Danny muttered.
Adam waved politely to one of the people with a sideways swat of his hand. “Well, they know who we are,” he said in an odd, far-away voice.
“They were worried about all of us, you know. The fans. We were all over the news, and people had no idea if we were all okay.” Megan pointed out. “I can’t blame them for being relieved and excited about seeing us all out together. But it might make them wonder why we aren’t doing shows until later this month...”
Adam shrugged as he thoughtfully stirred his tea. “Probably,” he said in reply.
“This is going to suck... now our entire tour schedule is pushed back and we’ll be away from home, from our families longer.” Michael complained loudly, and his eyes were on Adam.
Adam merely looked back, undaunted. “Yeah. But if they didn’t come visit during our hospital stay... they could probably come see us before we start performing again.” He put his chin in his hand and leaned tiredly against the table, musing, “I know Drake said he wanted to. Maybe I’ll tell him to come up and hang out with me... in the front of the bus.”
Sarver choked and sputtered at Adam’s audacity at that comment, his coughs echoing into his cup, and Kris could see Adam’s wicked grin.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Kris said, and Adam laughed at the look on Sarver’s face as some of the others obliviously agreed.
“Maybe I’ll invite Brad too,” he added mischievously.
“You’re fucking disgusting.” Michael mumbled just loud enough for Adam to hear, and the table fell silent, Adam’s teasing grin disappearing and the laughter dying in Kris’ throat.
The waitress brought their plates. There was a moment of awkward silence when she departed, and several of the table’s occupants began to eat.
“Actually Sarver, I think you’re pretty fucking disgusting.” Kris finally said, sitting up tall and ignoring the deadly glare that came to life on the bigger, burlier man’s face.
Adam laughed heartily then, swinging an arm around Kris and giving Sarver a meaningful look. “I love you, Kris Allen,” he said fiercely, and he pressed a soft kiss to Kris’ temple jokingly.
“Oh-” Michael started, frowning and looking down at his food as thought it were suddenly anything but appetizing. He wordlessly pressed a napkin to his mouth, and Kris and Adam burst into laughter, which made Sarver’s frown deepen.
“Aw fuck,” Adam said breathlessly, pressing a hand to his chest, “Stop it... ah, it still hurts to laugh really... hard...”
Michael’s fist clenched around his utensils and his knuckles whitened as he burst out, “What the hell did you just do?”
“What?” Adam answered cheekily, after swallowing a bite of food. Allison and several of the others chuckled. “I do love Kris. Why not tell him about it? Why not express my feelings?”
Sarver looked at his plate, still frowning. “I...”
“Oh, don’t... get your panties in a bunch, Michael.” Adam rolled his eyes, still a bit breathless. “I love Kristopher in the ‘right and godly way’, of course. Besides, that was probably the most platonic kiss I’ve ever given, Kris likes girls, you know. I couldn’t make a successful move on him... even if I wanted to.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Kris giggled into his waffle, choking a little.
“I don’t see how that matters. It was still inappropriate of you,” Sarver said acerbically, but Adam just shook his head as if amused, as he took another bite of his own food.
“I for one… appreciated it.” Kris put in, smirking. “Didn’t expect it, but I’m quite flattered by it. Hope the photogs outside didn’t snap a picture, though...”
Adam chuckled again, then winced and fake-glared at Kris for making him laugh. “Shit, Kris and I are about to be on the cover of The National Enquirer,” he said then, his eyes sparkling. “Get me several copies that I can frame and hang above Sarver’s bed on the bus.” He grinned, and the table erupted into laughter.
Kris realized with a pang how much he’d missed laughing with all of them, and of course with Adam. Sarver’s face was red, and his mouth was curved into a grumpy, tight line.
Breakfast was actually rather pleasant. Exiting the restaurant was tricky, with the small crowd of photographers swarming toward them, but Kris and Allison flanked Adam on each side, protectively making sure he wasn’t jostled around in the chaos.
Questions were fired through the air. Once they’d eluded all of the questions and most of the photos, they were on the road again, headed for the next stop’s arena location for rehearsals. Kris let Adam sit in the front hatch with Ellie, and he stayed to keep him company, leaned against the wall, strumming his guitar thoughtfully.
Random chords and notes spilled from his fingers as he watched Adam’s face, serene in thought. He noted the still-present lines of pain stitched into his skin and the angry bruises around his eye, slightly visible through the fading makeup from that morning. Adam yawned, then cringed a little and shifted his weight, perching his injured ankle high on a pile of pillows.
“Why bother coming?” He asked abruptly, a cynical weariness in his voice. “I kind of understand the point the producers were making earlier now... it is dumb for me to tag along if I’m not even p-performing... practicing anything.”
“I want you to,” Kris said simply. “I don’t want you to stay on this bus by yourself unless of course you want to go to sleep, which is okay. I want you to share in this experience still, Adam. You’re the runner-up, probably should have won the damn thing... you deserve to be up on stage as much as I do, so if you can’t sing just yet, you should at least be there, you know? There’s nothing I want more than for you to be able to sing for your fans.”
“I feel like I’m sort of being a let-down to you... to everyone,” Adam admitted softly, voice small. His face was suddenly a tight mask of pain and sadness. “I know that’s stupid. Why blame myself for an accident? I know,” he bit out. “But I just...”
Kris smiled encouragingly. “Adam,” he replied. He needed to cheer his friend up again, missing the laughter from breakfast, that contagious smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. Stop feeling so sorry for yourself and feeling guilty. We all love and care about you, and that’s that. And feeling as if you’re a disappointment because you got hurt in an accidental crash? Don’t even think about it, man. It’s not your fault.” He chuckled then, making Adam’s head snap curiously in his direction. “I mean, we all know you love attention, Adam... but seriously.”
“What?” Adam asked; eyes dull and tired, but lips forming a tiny grin.
“Getting hurt in a dramatic crash? There are other ways to be the center of attention, you know,” Kris replied, laughing.
Adam looked at him oddly, one eyebrow slanted upward. “No, I can’t possibly imagine. I’m the fucking Queen of the Center of Attention. I founded it, even. There’s no way I’d ever be able to come up with several brilliantly controversial or stand-out ways to get attention. Especially... on the spot.”
“Ring of Fire?” Kris said plaintively, and then froze.
Adam began to laugh, leaning back into the seat and clutching at the sides of his chest, eyes squeezed shut in mirth. “Ring of Fire... oh fuck... I’ll probably have to sing that, again… sometime. Talk about weird... that’s got a whole new connotation now...”
Kris chuckled idly. “Ironic. Very ironic.”
Adam grinned sadly. “Freaky double meanings or not, I can’t wait.” His eyes had turned lost and hollow as he looked out the window, face longing.
“But how are you going dance in platform boots again on a just-healed, weakened ankle?” Allison asked suddenly from behind them.
Adam turned to gaze at her, a goofy smile adorning his face. “I’ve danced in those boots after having more than one drink too many,” He answered playfully. “If I can do it drunk and be okay, I wouldn’t worry-”
“Okay,” She giggled. “Just be careful.”
“He will,” Kris replied, beaming at the thought of Adam dancing again, not to mention drunk and in platform glitter boots.
Adam sighed suddenly. “Fuck this,” he said. “I wish we could do a show now, tonight... I bet it’d be the best therapy. Everyone would feel so much better.”
Allison looked to be in agreement, but she just shook her head. “It’s a nice thought,” she said. “But quite honestly, as excited as I am... I’m glad we get a little time to rest.”
Adam looked relieved that she wasn’t disappointed by their lull of activity, and Kris sent him a quick I-told-you-so look.
“There’s no reason for you to push yourself-” Allie seemed to understand Adam’s qualms, and she approached him, smiling. “Really. Not now, and especially not when we DO start performing again.”
“You’ll need someone to watch your back, and I’m highly qualified for the job,” Kris said, stopping the guitar music and resting the guitar against the chair next to Adam’s crutch.
“You’re hired,” Was all Adam said.
“It’s not like the show could go on without you.” Allison added, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You are the show, Adam. You are the one who brings it all, owns the stage... makes sure we’re all performing at our best. It’s all up to you.”
“No pressure, though? Right?” Adam laughed, and then softened. “I’m glad you think of it that way.” He sighed, illuminating the hints of fatigue that still lingered and the tiny shards of pain that still stabbed at him. “Thank you, both of you... you’re amazing,” he added quickly. “I love you.”
His eyes were somewhat haunted by his past torment but they gleamed with that undeniable spark that was so Adam it nearly made Kris cry out in joy.
“We love you too,” He responded, and Allie nodded, squeezing Adam’s shoulder.
Kris wordlessly approached and leaned against the chair as well, his hand on Adam’s other shoulder in his own momentary gesture of reassurance.
Once he’d fallen asleep, Allison yawned quietly. “We’ll wake him up when we get there... or he’ll be mad at us.” And she tiptoed softly out of the front area, grinning.
Kris followed several moments later.
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Epilogue up soon... and I love it.
Sneak peek... Adam holds a press conference about the crash, Kris calls Sarver some bad names, and then they have a rehearsal or the tour, Adam included! :P