Barely Hanging On The Edge Of Lonely (1/3)
living in the shadows of the messes that you've made
Kris isn't used to solitude. He has always been surrounded by people, one way or another, so having the huge house all for himself is a new experience for him, and he doesn't know if he's going to survive it. From his spot in the threshold, he stares at the darkness for long moments before the weight of the papers he's holding in his right hand takes its toll on him. He lets his arm fall at his side and his fingers lose their grasp on the sheets that fall to the floor in rivulets of dotted lines and signatures.
Kris Allen has never felt so lonely in his whole life.
The shrill of his ringtone shakes him from his frozen state. He fishes for it in his pocket, clumsy fingers stumbling with the hem of the shirt, too long and therefore overlapping his jeans. The cell phone keeps on ringing annoyingly, vibrating against his thigh, the jerks making it impossible for him to catch the device. When he finally manages to take it out of his pocket, the phone stops ringing. Kris stares at the screen in disbelief, as he tries to figure out who has called him, but when he's about to light the screen by thumbing it, the phone sets off again. This time he reads the name on the screen and smiles a little - his first real smile in what feels like eons - before picking it up. "Hey."
"God, Kris, what the hell were you doing?" a voice at the other end chides him.
"Dancing across the room, what do you think I was doing?" he jokes, though it comes out strained. "The phone was hard to grab, Daniel."
"Who knows, knowing you," his brother sighs. "How're you doing?"
"Been better, but I'm fine. Everything'll be okay in the end. You can tell mom I said that."
Daniel's uncomfortable laugh at the other end of the telephone line tells Kris what he already knew - that, even though his brother cares about him more than he dares to admit, Daniel is still under their mother's strict orders. It both lifts Kris' heart and crushes him, for thus he knows his mother is still getting his back no matter what but he also feels like a little child all over again. He may need his mother, but he's not going to cling to her neck the way he used to when he was growing up.
"Mom wants you to come home," Daniel admits. "She won't call you to tell you, because she still thinks you believe you're too old to be mother henned, but she wants you back. It's been a rough time for all of us, Kris, and I think she doesn't want you to be alone in California."
"I'm not alone," Kris tries to protest, only to hear his brother snort.
"Your assistant doesn't count," Daniel counteracts. "She can't bring you family warmth."
"It's always warm in Los Angeles," Kris whispers. "But I wasn't thinking of Mafalda here. I was talking about Adam." He crosses his fingers at hid back to pray so that Daniel doesn't know Adam isn't even in the country.
"Adam is touring in Asia," his brother informs him. "I read the papers, I follow him on Twitter," Daniel counts. "But most important, I do talk to Neil, you know? And Leila keeps calling mom, unlike a certain oldest son," he finishes his tirade in an attempt to make Kris feel awfully ashamed.
He succeeds.
"Do you want me to go down there and stay with you for a while? I can do that," Daniel offers after a few silent seconds. Kris can hear the worry in his voice, and it's Daniel's, not Kim's, and that's a realization Kris is somehow finding comforting.
"And leave college when you have just now started it?" he begins to say. Daniel splutters something but Kris is quick in cutting him. "This family gas enough with one college dropout, don't make mom get mad at you for giving up."
"It isn't giving up," Daniel insists. "I'll come back when you're really okay, Kris. I'm not planning on travelling the world like you did."
Kris rubs his neck before covering his eyes with that same hand, the other holding onto the phone for dear life. It's tempting, his brother's suggestion, and he needs someone he can trust not to go mad with loneliness. But he can't allow Daniel to put his life on hold for his older brother - that would be selfish of him, and Kris isn't that much of a bastard.
"Listen, Daniel, I have some job duty to do here, writing and performances and what not, but I'll have a break in a couple of weeks. I'll fly to Arkansas then, and we'll see each other."
"It isn't what we had initially planned for you, but I think it's okay so long as you are okay."
"I will," Kris promises. His right leg is starting to hurt; he realizes he's been standing in the middle of the hall for the whole conversation, bathing in the dim light coming from the streetlamps that sweep into his house from the outside. "Daniel, it's getting pretty late, even for me. What do you say, I call you tomorrow and we pick it where we left it today?"
Daniel laughs softly. "Yeah, let's call it a night," he accepts. "I expect a call first thing in the morning, though."
"I'll call you, I promise."
"Night, big bro. I love you."
"I love you too," Kris mutters and hangs up.
He is too tired to get changed, so he heads straight to his room and falls on the left side of the bed - he's not going to switch sides now, or take the whole bed for himself, only because he doesn't share it anymore, and isn't it a weird thought to plague him. He is asleep even before his head hits the pillow.
He never hears the noise coming from the kitchen. He never feels the hand on his cheek or the breathing against his cheek.
He is blissfully dreaming with darkness.
no matter what you do I can't stay away from you
Adam Lambert jerks awake in his bed in the middle of the night. He doesn't remember what he was dreaming of, or why he feels so distressed even after having switched on the little lamp on the nightstand. He has never been afraid of darkness, not even when he was younger - he was scared of people and what they could do to him regardless of the time of day or the illumination, but he was never frightened by the lack of light. It meant only vacuity, never a threat, and through the years he learned that darkness could become an ally instead of an enemy.
He blinks, disoriented for a second. He finally recalls stumbling on his bed in a hotel resort somewhere in Singapore; he sits up on the bed and frowns. Adam has never suffered from intermitent insomnia - the kind to wake a person up several times through the night for no reason at all. He checks the clock to make sure he hasn't slept through his alarm; when he sees it's almost five in the morning, Adam decides that it must have been one last vestige of the jetlag he hasn't been able to shake off since he arrived to Asia, a little over a week before. He closes his eyes again and slides back into horizontal position, and turns to his left to fall asleep. He loves fading into slumber on the right side of the bed, staring at the center - whenever he has a partner to share the covers with, Adam loves to watch them sleep, so their even breathing helps him drift away as well. This time he's alone in the room, but some habits are hard to break, and deep inside Adam is scared of changes. He snuggles against his extra pillow and sighs.
Half an hour later, the blinking digital numbers signal almost five thirty, and Adam is tired of pretending he can fall back asleep. With an exasperated grunt, he lifts the covers and jumps out of the bed. He decides to do something productive, even if the time of day isn't at all working for him, so he sits at the desk, turns on the lamplight and takes a crisp white sheet. Words don't come to him as easily as they should; there's something nagging him in the back of his mind but he can't put a finger on it. Adam isn't sure about what it is until he glances down at the sheet and reads kris scribbled in circles all over the page.
"What the-" he mutters to himself.
He hasn't heard from Kris in some time now. Their schedules haven't coincided, and then there was the small issue of Adam making a name over the world so he toured a lot. Of course, they still talk on the phone every now and then, though emails and texts and the occasional Twitter party thrown in honor of one another have become their best friends. When Adam is overseas, he insists in not letting anyone call him - despite being more than able to afford it now - so he hasn't talked to Kris in what feels like years but probably are only a couple of weeks.
Adam stares at the name with squinted eyes. He understands that maybe his subconscious is trying to tell him something - Kris has gone through some dark times lately; Adam has tried to help him just like any best friend would have, even if that was technically Cale's duty, but his schedule couldn't wait and Adam flew to Asia in the middle of what could be known as the big downfall.
He feels guilty for having left.
Adam closes his eyes for a brief second before resting his forehead on the desk, near the paper. He is exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and the draining feeling of loneliness is finally taking its toll on him.
At around seven, after having spaced out for some time, Adam decides a shower is in order. He gets undressed as he heads for the bathroom, his cell phone forgotten on the nightstand. He gets prim and proper, ready for a long day ahead.
The activities he gets engaged into keep his mind reeling, whirlwinds of thoughts that prevent him from worrying about that obscure feeling in the pit of his stomach. But when he enters his room again, for a quick change of clothes before lunch since heat in Asia is really something else, when he notices the flashing light on top of the nightstand.
"So there you were," he laughs at his phone, that he has left behind by mistake. He makes his way to the spot. His eyeballs almost fall out of their sockets when he reads the display.
Twenty-seven missed called, nineteen text messages, thousands of replies and messages over at Twitter and three hundred emails.
He checks his wristwatch and realizes that the time back in California is already early morning. His worry comes back full force, and begins threading through the calls and the texts.
They are all from both his family and Kris'.
Frantic, he returns the last call to his brother, heedless of the ungodly hour. Neil picks it up at the first ring.
"Adam, for fuck's sake," it's his brother's greeting. "Where did you leave your phone? We've been calling you every fifteen minutes, and mom has even resorted to calling your manager, but she hasn't had any luck with that."
"What's going on?" he demands. "It has to be pretty late there. Is everyone fine?"
"Have you heard from Kris?"
The question is so straightforward that Adam doesn't know what to reply. He splutters and Neil tries to calm him down, though Adam can tell his brother is distressed as well.
"I haven't," he finally manages to say. "I haven't in some time now. It's normal, though. He's almost busier than me."
"Ahm."
"Neil?" he inquires. In that simple name, he hopes his brother understands the fear and the worry. "Neil, tell me what happens."
"There-" Neil starts. "Kim took the red eye to Los Angeles last night; you know Kris was alone, and after all that's happened-Well," he clears his throat. "Kim didn't find anyone in the house. But it was all a mess, and Kris has never been anything but tidy, so she freaked out and-Adam," he sighs.
"Tell me," Adam demands quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"There were signals of fight, so Kim called the police, Adam."
"And Kris?" Adam has to ask, although his heart is already beating twice as fast as it should, and the darkness in his soul only grows.
"Adam, I don't-I don't know how to tell you."
"Neil," Adam almost sobs.
"There was blood on the bed, Adam, and Kris-Kris is nowhere to be found."
Adam forgets how to breathe.
need a second to breathe
He wakes up to the silence. Everything is still dark, he supposes it's too early - maybe hours until sunrise. He yawns.
It's when he is about to stretch that he realizes something is not quite right. He tries to lift his arms over his head, get rid of the knots in his shoulders that are a result of having spent the night sleeping on the same side. He yawns again as he moves. But when he's rolling his shoulders, he finds out he can't rise his arms.
There's a bite of metal in his right wrist when he attempts to budge. He frowns; maybe he's sleeping and therefore this is just a kinky dream he'll wake up from soon. But the tug in his left wrist is so painful when he pulls, so real, that he realizes it's not a dream.
He's awake, and chained to the bed.
His first reaction is to freak out. He wants to scream for help, to fight the handcuffs and to kick his legs out, as if he were having a fit. But the most rational part of his brain advices him to take it easy - what would happen if he started making so much noise? He doesn't know yet who has him captive, or why, nor even where. And as much scared as he is now, he is aware that losing his cool will not take him anywhere.
Kris breathes in deeply, only to keep the air in his lungs as long as possible before exhaling it. It's a calming technique Adam taught him so long ago, during their Idol days. Kris doesn't want to think of the old, golden days; not now, at least, since he doesn't know for sure what's happening, and recalling the best moments of his past would be like giving up a fight without even knowing there's a war waiting to be won.
The silence around him is deafening. He noticed it upon waking up, and the quiet has only grown in intensity until becoming almost unbearable. He can't stand the lack of sound, having grown up in a noisy entourage - there was always someone talking, someone singing, in his household. Kris wants to lift his hands to his ears to keep the silence from picking on his nerves; he remembers belatedly that he is cuffed to the uncomfortable bed, so his wrists hurt when he pulls at them unconsciously.
He doesn't realize he's not alone in the room until he hears a hollow voice whispering, "If you don't remain silent and still, it'll be worse."
Kris stops immediately, his heart racing in his chest. His head whips up, searching for the source of those words. The room is still too dark for his eyes, but he can make out the shadow of another bed and bright blue eyes staring at him, the face of a man under layers of dirt.
"What's going on?" he whispers. "Where are we?"
"You don't remember, I see," the man utters back. "They're keeping us in the hopes they can straighten us," he continues.
"Who?" Kris is bewildered beyond reason. He wants answers, and he wants them now, but there's a noise somewhere at his back, and the other man visibly pales - Kris can see it even in the dim darkness surrounding them.
"They're coming," the man says in a broken voice.
Kris can hear steps. He shivers out of fear.
if your plane fell out of the sky, who would you call with your last goodbye
"What do you mean, there's no place in the next flight?" Adam exclaims, slamming his hand into the counter. "I need to go back to the States today!"
"Sir, please calm down," the woman in front of him says firmly, dragging some of the vowels due to her accent. "We are doing our best to find you a flight back to your country as soon as possible."
"That's not soon enough!" he cries. "I have to fly back now!"
"Sir, if you don't calm down, I'll be forced to call security," she replies, tugging at the tag in her white and blue uniform, where Adam can read Yanira. She doesn't seem intimidated by him even though he's made sure to announce who he is just in case that would help his quest. It's been to no avail, and Adam is a little too much irritated by that fact.
If Kris were here, Adam thinks, if he were here he'd tell me to suck it up and be man enough to wait. If Kris were here, the most irrational part of his mind screams to him, if Kris were here I wouldn't need to escape this country for any reason. But he sighs, looks at his watch, and sighs a bit more. "When's the next flight out of here?"
"To Los Angeles?" Yanira asks politely, her business smile back in place. "That would be-"
"No," he cuts her speech. An idea has formed in his mind, and he thinks he can make it happen. "I mean anywhere, out of this city. Anywhere in Europe would be preferable, though."
She doesn't question his sudden change of opinion - maybe she's used to demanding drama queens after all - and instead she types in her black keyboard until she finds something she likes. "There's a flight to Milan that takes off in an hour. There are a couple of places there but-"
"Great," Adam accepts. "Put my name under one of those. Rob!" he calls his manager, who has been stuck with phone calls ever since Adam told him he was cancelling everything in Asia to go back to California. "Rob!"
The man comes over, cell phone in his left ear, and nods at Adam curtly while he keeps talking. Adam turns around to face Yanira again. "I'm flying to Milan now, but you are going to help him," Adam points to Rob, who is gesturing wildly. "You're helping him find as many connections as necessary from Milan to Los Angeles. No matter the cost, and no matter anything else. When I get to Italy," he continues, looking Rob straight in the eyes once his manager hangs up, "I want to have a flight back home. I don't care how you do it, Rob, but make it happen."
His manager nods once, lips forming a tight line. "Of course," he mutters. "I suppose you don't mind if in the meantime I try to fix the mess you're leaving me with, do you?"
"I've already apologized, Rob, several times," Adam replies, exasperated. "You know I wouldn't leave you hanging if this weren't important."
"Important is not vital, Adam," Rob reminds him. Adam wants to cry out, but he knows better than to make a scene in an airport. One of the commands Neil told him was not to panic, and not to spread the word. They have a chance of finding Kris safe and sound if no one is aware that he has vanished off the face of the Earth - family and close friends excluded, to the rest of the world Kris Allen is still holed up in his house trying to recover from what happened with Katy.
"Just do what I say," Adam commands. "Please, Rob."
His manager nods again before squeezing Adam's arm in what Adam hopes is a affectionate gesture, and not one attempt to strangle his arm. Rob holds on for a second too long before letting go of Adam.
"It's time, sir," Yanira tells him. Adam swallows and steps back, his messenger bag sliding from his shoulder.
"Bring him back home," Rob says, and those are the words still ringing in Adam's ears while he walks the corridor to his plane.
our big gun's gonna shatter your scene
The steps stop before Kris can process what's going on around him. The man in the same room where Kris is has gone silent, and it irks him to no end. The fear and the nausea are back.
The door knob is turning. Kris can feel his heart beating so loudly that he finds it difficult to believe that no one else hears it. The feeling of anticipation is making him dizzy - he doesn't know what's going to happen, just as he doesn't remember how he got here, wherever here is, but his gut tells him he's not going to like it.
The light coming through the open door blinds him momentarily. He wishes he could lift his hand to his eyes to protect them from the intrusion, but the coldness around his wrists reminds him of his newfound condition.
There's a shadow against the jamb, Kris can tell it belongs to a huge human being. His shivers haven't stopped; they've only increased in intensity. Even his teeth are cluttering.
"Good morning," says a grave voice. Kris has never heard it before. "Seems like we have a new guest."
"Where are we?" Kris dares to ask in a quivering voice. "Why have you taken me here?"
"I'm afraid I can't answer to your first question, Kris," the shadow against the door replies, moving. Kris can see a glimpse of blond hair. "But to answer your second one, I can tell you that you asked for it."
Kris feels a sudden rage bubbling inside of him. He doesn't know where it's coming from, or why on Earth he's feeling so emboldened, but he has to retort, in his best calm voice, "I surely didn't ask to be taken hostage against my will."
"No one ever said nothing about wills, Kris."
"Who are you? And how do you know my name?" Kris asks, realizing belatedly that the last inquiry was blunt and silly - after winning American Idol he has become a worldwide known artist, and some have even compared him to a conjunction between Sir Bob Geldof and a straight Elton John. Evidently, the people who are keeping him like this know who he is - there are few people in the planet who don't.
"Aren't we curious?" the man grins as he approaches; Kris' eyes have adjusted to the new light and he can make out the small and cold blue eyes that are staring at him. "You'll see, with time."
The man leans in and grabs Kris' arm. Kris is about to flinch away in disgust - there's something in this man that repulses him - but he is aware of the confinement he's in, with the cuffs and the hard metal. The man reaches for Kris' wrists; he has a key in his huge hand and he unlocks the handcuffs with one hand while he keeps Kris' arm under his grasp. There's no way Kris can squirm free.
"Come with me," the man commands, pulling Kris up. Since he can't refuse, for the man is actually guiding his movements, Kris stands up and follows. He stumbles upon his own feet and nearly crashes down to the ground, but the man supports him. Kris dares a last glance back to the other man who has shared that room with him, but he seems to have retreated to some dark corner. Kris can't stop his captor, so he drags his feet out of the room and into a bright corridor.
He can't pay much attention to his surroundings, they're moving so fast, and in a matter of seconds - after uncountable turns to the right and flips to the left - Kris finds himself being thrown into a new room. He falls to the floor, almost kissing the ground.
He hears someone clearing his throat. Kris looks up wearily, and the flash of blond blinds him. When he focuses his sight again, he knows exactly why he has been brought here, and what's going to happen to him.
In the middle of the room, bathed by the light that gifts her with an ethereal glow, stands Katy.
next >>
Kris isn't used to solitude. He has always been surrounded by people, one way or another, so having the huge house all for himself is a new experience for him, and he doesn't know if he's going to survive it. From his spot in the threshold, he stares at the darkness for long moments before the weight of the papers he's holding in his right hand takes its toll on him. He lets his arm fall at his side and his fingers lose their grasp on the sheets that fall to the floor in rivulets of dotted lines and signatures.
Kris Allen has never felt so lonely in his whole life.
The shrill of his ringtone shakes him from his frozen state. He fishes for it in his pocket, clumsy fingers stumbling with the hem of the shirt, too long and therefore overlapping his jeans. The cell phone keeps on ringing annoyingly, vibrating against his thigh, the jerks making it impossible for him to catch the device. When he finally manages to take it out of his pocket, the phone stops ringing. Kris stares at the screen in disbelief, as he tries to figure out who has called him, but when he's about to light the screen by thumbing it, the phone sets off again. This time he reads the name on the screen and smiles a little - his first real smile in what feels like eons - before picking it up. "Hey."
"God, Kris, what the hell were you doing?" a voice at the other end chides him.
"Dancing across the room, what do you think I was doing?" he jokes, though it comes out strained. "The phone was hard to grab, Daniel."
"Who knows, knowing you," his brother sighs. "How're you doing?"
"Been better, but I'm fine. Everything'll be okay in the end. You can tell mom I said that."
Daniel's uncomfortable laugh at the other end of the telephone line tells Kris what he already knew - that, even though his brother cares about him more than he dares to admit, Daniel is still under their mother's strict orders. It both lifts Kris' heart and crushes him, for thus he knows his mother is still getting his back no matter what but he also feels like a little child all over again. He may need his mother, but he's not going to cling to her neck the way he used to when he was growing up.
"Mom wants you to come home," Daniel admits. "She won't call you to tell you, because she still thinks you believe you're too old to be mother henned, but she wants you back. It's been a rough time for all of us, Kris, and I think she doesn't want you to be alone in California."
"I'm not alone," Kris tries to protest, only to hear his brother snort.
"Your assistant doesn't count," Daniel counteracts. "She can't bring you family warmth."
"It's always warm in Los Angeles," Kris whispers. "But I wasn't thinking of Mafalda here. I was talking about Adam." He crosses his fingers at hid back to pray so that Daniel doesn't know Adam isn't even in the country.
"Adam is touring in Asia," his brother informs him. "I read the papers, I follow him on Twitter," Daniel counts. "But most important, I do talk to Neil, you know? And Leila keeps calling mom, unlike a certain oldest son," he finishes his tirade in an attempt to make Kris feel awfully ashamed.
He succeeds.
"Do you want me to go down there and stay with you for a while? I can do that," Daniel offers after a few silent seconds. Kris can hear the worry in his voice, and it's Daniel's, not Kim's, and that's a realization Kris is somehow finding comforting.
"And leave college when you have just now started it?" he begins to say. Daniel splutters something but Kris is quick in cutting him. "This family gas enough with one college dropout, don't make mom get mad at you for giving up."
"It isn't giving up," Daniel insists. "I'll come back when you're really okay, Kris. I'm not planning on travelling the world like you did."
Kris rubs his neck before covering his eyes with that same hand, the other holding onto the phone for dear life. It's tempting, his brother's suggestion, and he needs someone he can trust not to go mad with loneliness. But he can't allow Daniel to put his life on hold for his older brother - that would be selfish of him, and Kris isn't that much of a bastard.
"Listen, Daniel, I have some job duty to do here, writing and performances and what not, but I'll have a break in a couple of weeks. I'll fly to Arkansas then, and we'll see each other."
"It isn't what we had initially planned for you, but I think it's okay so long as you are okay."
"I will," Kris promises. His right leg is starting to hurt; he realizes he's been standing in the middle of the hall for the whole conversation, bathing in the dim light coming from the streetlamps that sweep into his house from the outside. "Daniel, it's getting pretty late, even for me. What do you say, I call you tomorrow and we pick it where we left it today?"
Daniel laughs softly. "Yeah, let's call it a night," he accepts. "I expect a call first thing in the morning, though."
"I'll call you, I promise."
"Night, big bro. I love you."
"I love you too," Kris mutters and hangs up.
He is too tired to get changed, so he heads straight to his room and falls on the left side of the bed - he's not going to switch sides now, or take the whole bed for himself, only because he doesn't share it anymore, and isn't it a weird thought to plague him. He is asleep even before his head hits the pillow.
He never hears the noise coming from the kitchen. He never feels the hand on his cheek or the breathing against his cheek.
He is blissfully dreaming with darkness.
no matter what you do I can't stay away from you
Adam Lambert jerks awake in his bed in the middle of the night. He doesn't remember what he was dreaming of, or why he feels so distressed even after having switched on the little lamp on the nightstand. He has never been afraid of darkness, not even when he was younger - he was scared of people and what they could do to him regardless of the time of day or the illumination, but he was never frightened by the lack of light. It meant only vacuity, never a threat, and through the years he learned that darkness could become an ally instead of an enemy.
He blinks, disoriented for a second. He finally recalls stumbling on his bed in a hotel resort somewhere in Singapore; he sits up on the bed and frowns. Adam has never suffered from intermitent insomnia - the kind to wake a person up several times through the night for no reason at all. He checks the clock to make sure he hasn't slept through his alarm; when he sees it's almost five in the morning, Adam decides that it must have been one last vestige of the jetlag he hasn't been able to shake off since he arrived to Asia, a little over a week before. He closes his eyes again and slides back into horizontal position, and turns to his left to fall asleep. He loves fading into slumber on the right side of the bed, staring at the center - whenever he has a partner to share the covers with, Adam loves to watch them sleep, so their even breathing helps him drift away as well. This time he's alone in the room, but some habits are hard to break, and deep inside Adam is scared of changes. He snuggles against his extra pillow and sighs.
Half an hour later, the blinking digital numbers signal almost five thirty, and Adam is tired of pretending he can fall back asleep. With an exasperated grunt, he lifts the covers and jumps out of the bed. He decides to do something productive, even if the time of day isn't at all working for him, so he sits at the desk, turns on the lamplight and takes a crisp white sheet. Words don't come to him as easily as they should; there's something nagging him in the back of his mind but he can't put a finger on it. Adam isn't sure about what it is until he glances down at the sheet and reads kris scribbled in circles all over the page.
"What the-" he mutters to himself.
He hasn't heard from Kris in some time now. Their schedules haven't coincided, and then there was the small issue of Adam making a name over the world so he toured a lot. Of course, they still talk on the phone every now and then, though emails and texts and the occasional Twitter party thrown in honor of one another have become their best friends. When Adam is overseas, he insists in not letting anyone call him - despite being more than able to afford it now - so he hasn't talked to Kris in what feels like years but probably are only a couple of weeks.
Adam stares at the name with squinted eyes. He understands that maybe his subconscious is trying to tell him something - Kris has gone through some dark times lately; Adam has tried to help him just like any best friend would have, even if that was technically Cale's duty, but his schedule couldn't wait and Adam flew to Asia in the middle of what could be known as the big downfall.
He feels guilty for having left.
Adam closes his eyes for a brief second before resting his forehead on the desk, near the paper. He is exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and the draining feeling of loneliness is finally taking its toll on him.
At around seven, after having spaced out for some time, Adam decides a shower is in order. He gets undressed as he heads for the bathroom, his cell phone forgotten on the nightstand. He gets prim and proper, ready for a long day ahead.
The activities he gets engaged into keep his mind reeling, whirlwinds of thoughts that prevent him from worrying about that obscure feeling in the pit of his stomach. But when he enters his room again, for a quick change of clothes before lunch since heat in Asia is really something else, when he notices the flashing light on top of the nightstand.
"So there you were," he laughs at his phone, that he has left behind by mistake. He makes his way to the spot. His eyeballs almost fall out of their sockets when he reads the display.
Twenty-seven missed called, nineteen text messages, thousands of replies and messages over at Twitter and three hundred emails.
He checks his wristwatch and realizes that the time back in California is already early morning. His worry comes back full force, and begins threading through the calls and the texts.
They are all from both his family and Kris'.
Frantic, he returns the last call to his brother, heedless of the ungodly hour. Neil picks it up at the first ring.
"Adam, for fuck's sake," it's his brother's greeting. "Where did you leave your phone? We've been calling you every fifteen minutes, and mom has even resorted to calling your manager, but she hasn't had any luck with that."
"What's going on?" he demands. "It has to be pretty late there. Is everyone fine?"
"Have you heard from Kris?"
The question is so straightforward that Adam doesn't know what to reply. He splutters and Neil tries to calm him down, though Adam can tell his brother is distressed as well.
"I haven't," he finally manages to say. "I haven't in some time now. It's normal, though. He's almost busier than me."
"Ahm."
"Neil?" he inquires. In that simple name, he hopes his brother understands the fear and the worry. "Neil, tell me what happens."
"There-" Neil starts. "Kim took the red eye to Los Angeles last night; you know Kris was alone, and after all that's happened-Well," he clears his throat. "Kim didn't find anyone in the house. But it was all a mess, and Kris has never been anything but tidy, so she freaked out and-Adam," he sighs.
"Tell me," Adam demands quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"There were signals of fight, so Kim called the police, Adam."
"And Kris?" Adam has to ask, although his heart is already beating twice as fast as it should, and the darkness in his soul only grows.
"Adam, I don't-I don't know how to tell you."
"Neil," Adam almost sobs.
"There was blood on the bed, Adam, and Kris-Kris is nowhere to be found."
Adam forgets how to breathe.
need a second to breathe
He wakes up to the silence. Everything is still dark, he supposes it's too early - maybe hours until sunrise. He yawns.
It's when he is about to stretch that he realizes something is not quite right. He tries to lift his arms over his head, get rid of the knots in his shoulders that are a result of having spent the night sleeping on the same side. He yawns again as he moves. But when he's rolling his shoulders, he finds out he can't rise his arms.
There's a bite of metal in his right wrist when he attempts to budge. He frowns; maybe he's sleeping and therefore this is just a kinky dream he'll wake up from soon. But the tug in his left wrist is so painful when he pulls, so real, that he realizes it's not a dream.
He's awake, and chained to the bed.
His first reaction is to freak out. He wants to scream for help, to fight the handcuffs and to kick his legs out, as if he were having a fit. But the most rational part of his brain advices him to take it easy - what would happen if he started making so much noise? He doesn't know yet who has him captive, or why, nor even where. And as much scared as he is now, he is aware that losing his cool will not take him anywhere.
Kris breathes in deeply, only to keep the air in his lungs as long as possible before exhaling it. It's a calming technique Adam taught him so long ago, during their Idol days. Kris doesn't want to think of the old, golden days; not now, at least, since he doesn't know for sure what's happening, and recalling the best moments of his past would be like giving up a fight without even knowing there's a war waiting to be won.
The silence around him is deafening. He noticed it upon waking up, and the quiet has only grown in intensity until becoming almost unbearable. He can't stand the lack of sound, having grown up in a noisy entourage - there was always someone talking, someone singing, in his household. Kris wants to lift his hands to his ears to keep the silence from picking on his nerves; he remembers belatedly that he is cuffed to the uncomfortable bed, so his wrists hurt when he pulls at them unconsciously.
He doesn't realize he's not alone in the room until he hears a hollow voice whispering, "If you don't remain silent and still, it'll be worse."
Kris stops immediately, his heart racing in his chest. His head whips up, searching for the source of those words. The room is still too dark for his eyes, but he can make out the shadow of another bed and bright blue eyes staring at him, the face of a man under layers of dirt.
"What's going on?" he whispers. "Where are we?"
"You don't remember, I see," the man utters back. "They're keeping us in the hopes they can straighten us," he continues.
"Who?" Kris is bewildered beyond reason. He wants answers, and he wants them now, but there's a noise somewhere at his back, and the other man visibly pales - Kris can see it even in the dim darkness surrounding them.
"They're coming," the man says in a broken voice.
Kris can hear steps. He shivers out of fear.
if your plane fell out of the sky, who would you call with your last goodbye
"What do you mean, there's no place in the next flight?" Adam exclaims, slamming his hand into the counter. "I need to go back to the States today!"
"Sir, please calm down," the woman in front of him says firmly, dragging some of the vowels due to her accent. "We are doing our best to find you a flight back to your country as soon as possible."
"That's not soon enough!" he cries. "I have to fly back now!"
"Sir, if you don't calm down, I'll be forced to call security," she replies, tugging at the tag in her white and blue uniform, where Adam can read Yanira. She doesn't seem intimidated by him even though he's made sure to announce who he is just in case that would help his quest. It's been to no avail, and Adam is a little too much irritated by that fact.
If Kris were here, Adam thinks, if he were here he'd tell me to suck it up and be man enough to wait. If Kris were here, the most irrational part of his mind screams to him, if Kris were here I wouldn't need to escape this country for any reason. But he sighs, looks at his watch, and sighs a bit more. "When's the next flight out of here?"
"To Los Angeles?" Yanira asks politely, her business smile back in place. "That would be-"
"No," he cuts her speech. An idea has formed in his mind, and he thinks he can make it happen. "I mean anywhere, out of this city. Anywhere in Europe would be preferable, though."
She doesn't question his sudden change of opinion - maybe she's used to demanding drama queens after all - and instead she types in her black keyboard until she finds something she likes. "There's a flight to Milan that takes off in an hour. There are a couple of places there but-"
"Great," Adam accepts. "Put my name under one of those. Rob!" he calls his manager, who has been stuck with phone calls ever since Adam told him he was cancelling everything in Asia to go back to California. "Rob!"
The man comes over, cell phone in his left ear, and nods at Adam curtly while he keeps talking. Adam turns around to face Yanira again. "I'm flying to Milan now, but you are going to help him," Adam points to Rob, who is gesturing wildly. "You're helping him find as many connections as necessary from Milan to Los Angeles. No matter the cost, and no matter anything else. When I get to Italy," he continues, looking Rob straight in the eyes once his manager hangs up, "I want to have a flight back home. I don't care how you do it, Rob, but make it happen."
His manager nods once, lips forming a tight line. "Of course," he mutters. "I suppose you don't mind if in the meantime I try to fix the mess you're leaving me with, do you?"
"I've already apologized, Rob, several times," Adam replies, exasperated. "You know I wouldn't leave you hanging if this weren't important."
"Important is not vital, Adam," Rob reminds him. Adam wants to cry out, but he knows better than to make a scene in an airport. One of the commands Neil told him was not to panic, and not to spread the word. They have a chance of finding Kris safe and sound if no one is aware that he has vanished off the face of the Earth - family and close friends excluded, to the rest of the world Kris Allen is still holed up in his house trying to recover from what happened with Katy.
"Just do what I say," Adam commands. "Please, Rob."
His manager nods again before squeezing Adam's arm in what Adam hopes is a affectionate gesture, and not one attempt to strangle his arm. Rob holds on for a second too long before letting go of Adam.
"It's time, sir," Yanira tells him. Adam swallows and steps back, his messenger bag sliding from his shoulder.
"Bring him back home," Rob says, and those are the words still ringing in Adam's ears while he walks the corridor to his plane.
our big gun's gonna shatter your scene
The steps stop before Kris can process what's going on around him. The man in the same room where Kris is has gone silent, and it irks him to no end. The fear and the nausea are back.
The door knob is turning. Kris can feel his heart beating so loudly that he finds it difficult to believe that no one else hears it. The feeling of anticipation is making him dizzy - he doesn't know what's going to happen, just as he doesn't remember how he got here, wherever here is, but his gut tells him he's not going to like it.
The light coming through the open door blinds him momentarily. He wishes he could lift his hand to his eyes to protect them from the intrusion, but the coldness around his wrists reminds him of his newfound condition.
There's a shadow against the jamb, Kris can tell it belongs to a huge human being. His shivers haven't stopped; they've only increased in intensity. Even his teeth are cluttering.
"Good morning," says a grave voice. Kris has never heard it before. "Seems like we have a new guest."
"Where are we?" Kris dares to ask in a quivering voice. "Why have you taken me here?"
"I'm afraid I can't answer to your first question, Kris," the shadow against the door replies, moving. Kris can see a glimpse of blond hair. "But to answer your second one, I can tell you that you asked for it."
Kris feels a sudden rage bubbling inside of him. He doesn't know where it's coming from, or why on Earth he's feeling so emboldened, but he has to retort, in his best calm voice, "I surely didn't ask to be taken hostage against my will."
"No one ever said nothing about wills, Kris."
"Who are you? And how do you know my name?" Kris asks, realizing belatedly that the last inquiry was blunt and silly - after winning American Idol he has become a worldwide known artist, and some have even compared him to a conjunction between Sir Bob Geldof and a straight Elton John. Evidently, the people who are keeping him like this know who he is - there are few people in the planet who don't.
"Aren't we curious?" the man grins as he approaches; Kris' eyes have adjusted to the new light and he can make out the small and cold blue eyes that are staring at him. "You'll see, with time."
The man leans in and grabs Kris' arm. Kris is about to flinch away in disgust - there's something in this man that repulses him - but he is aware of the confinement he's in, with the cuffs and the hard metal. The man reaches for Kris' wrists; he has a key in his huge hand and he unlocks the handcuffs with one hand while he keeps Kris' arm under his grasp. There's no way Kris can squirm free.
"Come with me," the man commands, pulling Kris up. Since he can't refuse, for the man is actually guiding his movements, Kris stands up and follows. He stumbles upon his own feet and nearly crashes down to the ground, but the man supports him. Kris dares a last glance back to the other man who has shared that room with him, but he seems to have retreated to some dark corner. Kris can't stop his captor, so he drags his feet out of the room and into a bright corridor.
He can't pay much attention to his surroundings, they're moving so fast, and in a matter of seconds - after uncountable turns to the right and flips to the left - Kris finds himself being thrown into a new room. He falls to the floor, almost kissing the ground.
He hears someone clearing his throat. Kris looks up wearily, and the flash of blond blinds him. When he focuses his sight again, he knows exactly why he has been brought here, and what's going to happen to him.
In the middle of the room, bathed by the light that gifts her with an ethereal glow, stands Katy.
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