I come bearing fic.
Sniffle and stifle and shudder.
It was rather like eating ice for lunch. Once the absurdity of the comment passes, the cruelty of it sinks in. It sinks in and settles, and he tries to smile through it because he feels like he’s about to lose it on stage. He’s considering the possible irony of him falling apart after singing Come Together while he walks off the stage. The thought keeps him distracted long enough to get out of public view and into the relative safety of the break room.
Sniffle and stifle and shudder.
Adam is drinking more water than he should, because the human bladder is only so big, but he knows the dangers of going onstage with cotton mouth. Allison is playing absently with the tips of her hair.
“I’m guessing you like it?” he asks, grinning. Allison grins and nods.
“We should bring Kris with us next week,” she comments, looking up at the monitor. Kris is just finishing up his song. “I think he sounded good this week.” Adam agrees with a nod. Kris had been really worried about this week from the very beginning, but he’s a strong performer, and Adam isn’t worried. At least, he isn’t until Kara opens her mouth.
“And I thought they were being harsh to me,” Allison frowns. “Seriously, who pissed in their cornflakes?”
“I will if they don’t cut it out,” Adam mutters irritably. As much as he appreciates Simon’s assessment of his talents, he hates it when the judges act like he’s the standard by which everything must be measured. He knows that he should take it as a compliment, but it’s hard to do that when it hurts his friend’s feelings. And a hurt puppy could take lessons from the look on Kris’ face as he takes the criticism. Adam wants to stay backstage and wait for Kris, but the stage hands are already ushering them out to the audience.
Sniffle and stifle and shudder.
Kris repeats the mantra in the corner, hidden in the space between the couch and the love seat. Sniffle as the comments replay in his head. Stifle as he thinks that he can’t cry, not when he has to show his face at the after-party. Shudder as he represses the fact that he’s upset and worried and a little bit angry. He can hear Danny’s performance. Or maybe he can still hear Danny screaming from their duet. He’s not sure which, but he’s had quite enough and covers his ears, repeating his mantra once more.
“Mr. Allen?” At the sound of one of the stage hands, he claps a hand over his mouth and scoots down to make sure he isn’t discovered. There’s no reason for him to go back out just yet, and he really wants the few minutes to compose himself. The stage hand shrugs and gives up and moves on. And Kris waits until he’s sure he’s alone again before exhaling.
Sniffle and stifle and shudder.
The first thing that Adam notices when he struts out for the duet is that Kris isn’t there. He doesn’t let it throw him off, because that would be wildly unfair to Allison, and she seems to be having the time of her life. So they knock the song out of the park, and he pushes down the anger that rises in his chest when Simon comments that they “won” the battle of the duets.
When Kris and Danny take the stage with them at the end of the show, Kris is smiling and seems completely relaxed. When they do the obligatory meet and greet at the end and get jumped by the paparazzi, he laughs a little and smiles for the camera, even breaking out the “sexy face” when they ask him for it. As they’re driving home, he is quiet and stares out of the window, but he doesn’t look unhappy.
But when Adam taps his toothbrush out and places it in its holder, he hears it in the adjoining room that Kris now occupies.
Sniffle and stifle and shudder.
The door is open a crack, and Adam wraps his fingers around the doorknob.
“Kris?” he calls into the room. It’s dark, but the sliver of light from the bathroom cuts across the floor, and Adam can see Kris’ silhouette on the floor next to his bed. He’s hugging his knees to his chest and staring out onto the balcony. He wipes viciously at his eyes when he hears Adam.
“Hey, Adam.” He tries valiantly to keep the smile in his voice, but it shakes and wavers out of his control. He mentally kicks himself. There’s no way that Adam is going to buy into the “I’m fine” routine now. Kris realizes that the sliver of light has widened, so he gives Adam permission to enter.
“I think it’d be a stupid question to ask if you’re okay,” he states flatly, sitting next to his friend. “And it’d be a stupid answer if you said that you’re fine.” Kris manages a sort of chuckle at Adam’s insight and lets out a shaky sigh.
“Rough night,” he finally mumbles. There is a beat of silence before he continues. “You know how Matt always knew?” Matt had been, in his own words, a cat with nine lives, but each time he’d been eliminated, he’d gotten a “feeling.” Kris isn’t sure, but he thinks he has that same feeling in the pit of his stomach. Adam puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t talk like that. You were good tonight, Kris. You’re always good,” he reassures. “Besides, you heard the crowd. They love you, man.” He’s a pronoun away from telling Kris how he feels, but that wouldn’t be fair of him. Kris doesn’t need that confusion right now. Instead, he sighs and ruffles Kris’ soft, brown hair.
“It’s not like Simon’s always right. He called Blake Lewis obnoxious, remember?” he points out, and Kris offers a small-but-genuine smile. “And how seriously can you take that whole “ice” thing? And last week he called you “wet.” Call me crazy, but I think Simon’s been drinking out of Paula’s cup, if you know what I mean.” He says everything that pops into his head. Anything to make Kris stop looking like his goldfish just died. He’s rewarded when Kris actually laughs, though the sound comes out as more of a choked out sob.
“I’m not ready to go yet,” Kris blurts out. “I don’t want to leave, Adam. I’d miss you guys.” Without warning, he buries his face into Adam’s chest and sniffles and stifles and shudders. Adam pulls his friend into a hug, resting his chin on the top of his face.
“Kris, it’s okay. Just let go.” And Kris does, and sniffle and stifle and shudder becomes an outright cry. Adam stays with him until he calms down, stays with him until he starts nodding off in his arms, stays with him until he crawls under the covers and falls asleep.
And then Adam goes back to his room. And then Adam thinks about what he’ll do if Kris goes home tomorrow. And then Adam pulls his knees to his chest.
Sniffle and stifle and shudder.
It was rather like eating ice for lunch. Once the absurdity of the comment passes, the cruelty of it sinks in. It sinks in and settles, and he tries to smile through it because he feels like he’s about to lose it on stage. He’s considering the possible irony of him falling apart after singing Come Together while he walks off the stage. The thought keeps him distracted long enough to get out of public view and into the relative safety of the break room.
Sniffle and stifle and shudder.
Adam is drinking more water than he should, because the human bladder is only so big, but he knows the dangers of going onstage with cotton mouth. Allison is playing absently with the tips of her hair.
“I’m guessing you like it?” he asks, grinning. Allison grins and nods.
“We should bring Kris with us next week,” she comments, looking up at the monitor. Kris is just finishing up his song. “I think he sounded good this week.” Adam agrees with a nod. Kris had been really worried about this week from the very beginning, but he’s a strong performer, and Adam isn’t worried. At least, he isn’t until Kara opens her mouth.
“And I thought they were being harsh to me,” Allison frowns. “Seriously, who pissed in their cornflakes?”
“I will if they don’t cut it out,” Adam mutters irritably. As much as he appreciates Simon’s assessment of his talents, he hates it when the judges act like he’s the standard by which everything must be measured. He knows that he should take it as a compliment, but it’s hard to do that when it hurts his friend’s feelings. And a hurt puppy could take lessons from the look on Kris’ face as he takes the criticism. Adam wants to stay backstage and wait for Kris, but the stage hands are already ushering them out to the audience.
Sniffle and stifle and shudder.
Kris repeats the mantra in the corner, hidden in the space between the couch and the love seat. Sniffle as the comments replay in his head. Stifle as he thinks that he can’t cry, not when he has to show his face at the after-party. Shudder as he represses the fact that he’s upset and worried and a little bit angry. He can hear Danny’s performance. Or maybe he can still hear Danny screaming from their duet. He’s not sure which, but he’s had quite enough and covers his ears, repeating his mantra once more.
“Mr. Allen?” At the sound of one of the stage hands, he claps a hand over his mouth and scoots down to make sure he isn’t discovered. There’s no reason for him to go back out just yet, and he really wants the few minutes to compose himself. The stage hand shrugs and gives up and moves on. And Kris waits until he’s sure he’s alone again before exhaling.
Sniffle and stifle and shudder.
The first thing that Adam notices when he struts out for the duet is that Kris isn’t there. He doesn’t let it throw him off, because that would be wildly unfair to Allison, and she seems to be having the time of her life. So they knock the song out of the park, and he pushes down the anger that rises in his chest when Simon comments that they “won” the battle of the duets.
When Kris and Danny take the stage with them at the end of the show, Kris is smiling and seems completely relaxed. When they do the obligatory meet and greet at the end and get jumped by the paparazzi, he laughs a little and smiles for the camera, even breaking out the “sexy face” when they ask him for it. As they’re driving home, he is quiet and stares out of the window, but he doesn’t look unhappy.
But when Adam taps his toothbrush out and places it in its holder, he hears it in the adjoining room that Kris now occupies.
Sniffle and stifle and shudder.
The door is open a crack, and Adam wraps his fingers around the doorknob.
“Kris?” he calls into the room. It’s dark, but the sliver of light from the bathroom cuts across the floor, and Adam can see Kris’ silhouette on the floor next to his bed. He’s hugging his knees to his chest and staring out onto the balcony. He wipes viciously at his eyes when he hears Adam.
“Hey, Adam.” He tries valiantly to keep the smile in his voice, but it shakes and wavers out of his control. He mentally kicks himself. There’s no way that Adam is going to buy into the “I’m fine” routine now. Kris realizes that the sliver of light has widened, so he gives Adam permission to enter.
“I think it’d be a stupid question to ask if you’re okay,” he states flatly, sitting next to his friend. “And it’d be a stupid answer if you said that you’re fine.” Kris manages a sort of chuckle at Adam’s insight and lets out a shaky sigh.
“Rough night,” he finally mumbles. There is a beat of silence before he continues. “You know how Matt always knew?” Matt had been, in his own words, a cat with nine lives, but each time he’d been eliminated, he’d gotten a “feeling.” Kris isn’t sure, but he thinks he has that same feeling in the pit of his stomach. Adam puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t talk like that. You were good tonight, Kris. You’re always good,” he reassures. “Besides, you heard the crowd. They love you, man.” He’s a pronoun away from telling Kris how he feels, but that wouldn’t be fair of him. Kris doesn’t need that confusion right now. Instead, he sighs and ruffles Kris’ soft, brown hair.
“It’s not like Simon’s always right. He called Blake Lewis obnoxious, remember?” he points out, and Kris offers a small-but-genuine smile. “And how seriously can you take that whole “ice” thing? And last week he called you “wet.” Call me crazy, but I think Simon’s been drinking out of Paula’s cup, if you know what I mean.” He says everything that pops into his head. Anything to make Kris stop looking like his goldfish just died. He’s rewarded when Kris actually laughs, though the sound comes out as more of a choked out sob.
“I’m not ready to go yet,” Kris blurts out. “I don’t want to leave, Adam. I’d miss you guys.” Without warning, he buries his face into Adam’s chest and sniffles and stifles and shudders. Adam pulls his friend into a hug, resting his chin on the top of his face.
“Kris, it’s okay. Just let go.” And Kris does, and sniffle and stifle and shudder becomes an outright cry. Adam stays with him until he calms down, stays with him until he starts nodding off in his arms, stays with him until he crawls under the covers and falls asleep.
And then Adam goes back to his room. And then Adam thinks about what he’ll do if Kris goes home tomorrow. And then Adam pulls his knees to his chest.
Sniffle and stifle and shudder.