ANTIQUE--PART 1 (AMERICAN IDOL AU)
Okay, let me just say when I converted this LJ to a writing journal, I never thought I'd find myself writing real person fic. EVER. Yet here I am writing AU Kradam. Whut? Also, I have a confession to make, this multi-part fanfic isn't even finished yet. I only have 2 chapters written that when put together total about 20 pages, so I thought I'd post those ahead of time to make it easier on myself. 8D ANYWAY.
Antique (PART 1/?)
AU. "...despite common sense and the image of his angry mother trying to snap him out of it, he gingerly picked up the figurine into the light."
Rating: K (the other parts will be T)
Pairings: friendshippy!Kradam
Chapter Word Count: 3473
Notes: The initial idea was inspired by the antique shop in "Whispers of the Heart" (which if you haven't seen, you should, cause it's probably one of the best Studio Ghibli movies ever), but that's where the similarities end
Ia. 1994, ARKANSAS
"Kris, I told you we aren't going to the candy shop. Your father is already cooking lunch at home," Mrs. Allen said sternly to her son as she gripped his hand tightly. "He'd be very disappointed if you didn't eat his meal."
"But, mom, you said we could go last Saturday and we never did!"
"You know I had to substitute for Mrs. Kinney at Sunday School last Sunday. That lesson took a lot of prep."
"Can we even stop for one minute?"
"No, Kristopher. It's almost noon and we had to be home by--"
Kris wriggled his small hand free before Mrs. Allen could even finish her sentence. He ran up the sidewalk against his mother's wishes, his sneakers skidding against the pavement as he turned the corner. Her protests were ignored as he ran for at least another block or two before he spotted the old looking shop at the end of the street, its rickety sign swinging in the light breeze. He was barely able to make out the peeling gold paint, but from what he could read, the little shop belonged to a person called Cowell.
The little boy stopped in his tracks, briefly gazing into the window. The lighting in the shop was very dim, but he could make out the blurry edges of a grandfather clock, a stack of books, vases and a worn violin. He smiled to himself as he stared at the instrument, awestruck by the burgundy varnish and the delicate etchings around the edges. Being a musically inclined boy, Kris couldn't help but poke his head into the shop.
The moment he opened the doorway, he couldn't help but notice the musty smell in the air and the dust floating in crevices of the ceiling beams. The shop appeared as if the only other living thing was a ghost, for there wasn't another person in sight, not even at the cash register. There were a couple of smaller circular tables in the back covered by threadbare table cloths. The white paint on the walls look as if they needed another coat of paint, because Kris couldn't help but notice how dingy they looked.
Despite all of that though, Kris couldn't help but feel that he had fallen asleep right on the street and was having a dream.
Everything in the shop was foreign to him and he had to explore it. He ran his fingers along the cherry wood counter. He analyzed the Persian carpets hanging on the back wall next to the ticking grandfather clock. He browsed the books in the corner--something about Shakespeare. He even spotted the violin and ran closer to examine it, feeling the bow under his fingertips and brushing a cobweb off of the black leather case.
What, really caught Kris's eye though, was the wooden figurine next to the violin.
It was of a man in a black suit, casually tipping his top hat and leaning on a cane. He looked as if he had red-blonde hair under the hat, something Kris never saw very often. A golden watch hung from his coat pocket, the chain dangling almost obnoxiously. His, face, however, was in shadow. Kris had to know more about this mysterious man, and despite common sense and the image of his angry mother trying to snap him out of it, he gingerly picked up the figurine into the light.
Kris almost had to shield his eyes for a moment. He couldn't see in the darkness, but there were sapphires inset into the eyes of the figurine. The gems glittered in the light and he couldn't help but be mesmerized by them. Kris couldn't put his finger on it, but he couldn't help but feel that the man was...well, lonely. The sapphire in his eyes glazed over in the same way that would happen before someone began to cry.
It would make complete sense. The man was alone, from what Kris could see. He was next to a violin, which while that would make for beautiful music, it would do nothing good for the soul when the peaceful calm of the music ended. Maybe the man's family had been lost. Maybe he didn't even have family...Whatever the case was, the little boy couldn't help but be compelled to be his friend. He couldn't stand to see the man so lonely in the shop. Kris was generally a happy kid and everyone deserved to be happy like him.
"I think I'll name you Adam," he whispered softly, running a thumb along the carvings make the man's face.
He just stood like that, tracing shapes along the painted wood, gazing into the man's eyes. He couldn't help but notice that Adam wasn't like other men, real, human men. Real men were scary, intimidating, not the sort Kris usually found himself to want to hang around with. The figurine in his hands wasn't like that at all.
This figurine was almost beautiful. When his mother had told him about angels, Kris had initially thought of what most kids think of: beings with feathered wings. After seeing this figurine though, Kris had a better idea of what an angel really looked like. If he really wanted to, Kris could tell his life story right then and there and pretend that Adam would actually listen to him .
He almost did.
"Be careful with that!"
Kris's doe eyes widened when he found Adam being yanked out of his hands roughly. He panicked, pivoting around and seeing the monster who had taken the figurine away.
The man was tall, but then again, at young Kristopher's height, everyone was tall to him. The man was bulky, wearing a grey v-neck shirt with rust colored stains on it. His hands were calloused and there was dirt under his nails. Kris couldn't help but note that he looked slightly disheveled, his black hair gone astray.
"This figurine is at least one hundred years old. It's not just a mere toy," the man snapped, placing the figurine back on the table with the utmost care. Kris made note of his strong British accent as he looked anywhere but at the man in front of him. However, his avoidance didn't help as usual because it just shocked him more when the man spoke up again. "Where is your mother anyway?"
"I..um...I left her behind," Kris replied, his voice drifting into something that barely resembled a whisper.
"Well, that wasn't very nice, was it?" The man made his way over to the grandfather clock with an old rag, wiping the glass of the clock face. He paused for a moment, as if waiting for a response, but then he continued to talk, ignoring the boy's reticence. "What is your name?"
"Kris."
"Kris what?"
Kris shuffled his feet, looking down at the chipping wooden floor.
"Kris Allen."
"Alright then, Kris Allen, at least stop touching my things while you're here. The last thing I need is sticky fingerprints all over my merchandise. It's hard enough selling antiques as it is."
There was more awkward silence as Kris sat himself down in a chair in the corner, his eyes darting across the room while the man went about dusting the knick-knacks scattered about. Occasionally, Kris's eyes would dart back towards Adam, who still looked as lonely as ever. The little boy was tempted to run back over and comfort him, but then the grumpy man would shoot a dirty grimace his way and Kris would lose what courage he had.
It seemed like time went by forever in this way until the man spoke up again, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
"What brought you into my shop, Kris?"
"I saw the v-violin."
The man glanced over at the instrument, his fingers going along the edge of the wood.
"This is actually a viola, but I can see why you would like it. Do you play?"
Kris was mentally knocking himself for mistaking the violin for a viola, and for just feeling so stupid in general. He couldn't help but hate the man's tone of voice with him, yet he was so bored out of his mind that he had to make conversation.
"...Yeah."
"Do you like it?"
"I guess."
"You guess? How can you guess something like that?"
"Well, it's not so much that I hate playing, it's just that I have to." Kris could hear the man groan.
"You play it because you wanted to fit in. Is that it?"
Kris twiddled his thumbs, leaning back into the chair.
"...Yeah." The man groaned again, this time rolling his weary eyes.
"If you want to fit in, Kris, then that is all you will ever accomplish in life. Trust me, you will never learn anything by fitting in."
Kris, too young to really take this advice to heart, simply blocked it out of his mind as he played a Michael Jackson song through his head. Quietly, his feet tapped on the floor to the beat playing silently. It was a good try, but in the end it proved futile because Kris still kept staring at Adam. Adam was just so...cool. Yes, he was cool and awesome and what Kris thought he should be.
"You're quite interested in that figurine, aren't you?"
"It's...okay."
Kris couldn't reveal just what he thought.
Not to Adam's captor.
He was about to open his mouth, but then a bell chimed as the front door of the shop opened. Kris and the man both turned their attentions towards the door, and to Kris's horror, it was a curse even more terrible than others he had encountered today.
"Kristopher Neil Allen, how dare you run away like that!"
Kris frowned as he looked over at his mother, bolting out of the chair and standing upright as she grabbed his hand once more. He thought that the two of them would simply leave, but the two adults shook hands, nodding at one another.
"I'm sorry about my son. I hope he didn't disturb you at all, Mr. Cowell."
"It was no problem. I didn't mind the company," the shopkeeper replied, placing his hand rag down. "Kristopher is a good boy. Very inquisitive though. Kept looking at the Victorian figurine there," he added, his eyes pointing towards the figurine in question. Mrs. Allen's gaze went the same direction, piquing her interest enough to walk over and examine it.
"I can see why," she said, holding it up to the light. Kris's eyes popped wide again as she admired the sapphire.
"I'm surprised nobody has bought him yet. They bought the rest of the figurines, but not that one. How ironic...I thought he was the best crafted out of all of them, truly one of a kind. I did have to restore some of the paint when I first bought him over in England, but he's in fantastic condition otherwise."
"What's his name?"
"I believe the name he came with was Bradley Connor."
"He looks like an Adam," Kris blurted. Mrs. Allen and Mr. Cowell both glanced down at him. The little boy noticed the amused looks on both of their faces, Mr. Cowell in particular shaking his head.
"I'll sell him to you at a discount for one hundred and eighty six," Mr. Cowell stated, gesturing towards the figurine.
"That is a good bargain, but my son doesn't deserve it after running off earlier." Mrs. Allen's grip tightened around her son's hand as she said this. "I will definitely send one of my co-workers over here though. I think he would like that grandfather clock of yours."
"Glad to hear it. I could use the business."
Kris kept gazing at Adam longingly, just wanting to hold the wooden doll again.
"Good-bye, Mr. Cowell," Mrs. Allen said, tilting her head as she and Kris began to exit the shop.
"Have a good day."
Even as they were leaving, Kris glanced back at Adam and his glowing sapphire eyes, and he could almost swear that Adam was looking back right at him, crying, trying to call him back.
1b. THREE WEEKS LATER
Mrs. Allen had gone to the hairdresser to get her hair trimmed, and when Kris had saved up the one hundred and eighty six dollars, it was hard to resist going back to Cowell's shop. He had been saving up his allowance to buy a new bike, but when he realized he was just fifteen dollars short from Cowell's discounted offer, he changed his priorities. Everyone seemed flabbergasted at his idea, especially his younger brother Daniel, who thought that the idea of a boy wanting a doll was ludicrous.
Kris even thought the same way at first. He had been saving up for nearly the last six months for this bike. He even did chores around the house and helped out his mother with cooking to earn extra money. He had tried to distract himself with dancing to his tapes the night after he got home from the first visit to Cowell's so that he could forget about Adam. He even listened to his mother berating him through the door when he had been declared grounded for a week. Nothing just seemed to work.
When Kris drifted off to sleep that night, when he entered his dreams, he found himself back in the antique shop. He remembered being so scared because it was night and the lights had died in the shop. When he went to flip the light switch, all he would get was a flicker and then black. Kris kept his hands in front of him, walking slowly, being careful not to trip over anything. Step by step, he made it about a foot behind he bumped into a table. He panicked, because something smashed. He knelt down on the floor, unsure of what to do, his hands hovering over the ground, trying to find the shards of the broken object.
He jerked away when he felt his hands bleeding. They were shaking...He was shaking. He couldn't stop shaking. He tried to stand up, but his knees felt like silly putty, so he kept falling back over. He was alone, it was dark and he was now bleeding. What else could he do? If he kept trying to move any further, he would just knock more things over, and Cowell would get mad at him.
That was why he was stuck. He hated feeling stuck, lost. He was supposed to know everything by now after that bit of time he spent in Cowell's shop. It almost was supposed to feel like a good friend's house and now it felt like a dungeon, a trap.
That's why he started crying.
And that's when the oil lamp lit up in front of the little boy.
It wasn't very bright, but it led the way to the viola, and Kris could see the remnants of the Japanese vase he had knocked over. He wanted to sit there and try to put the pieces back together after spotting the head of the painted crane and its body, but he couldn't help but feel that he should just keep walking, especially while the light was giving him the courage to keep pushing forward. Once Kris got to the viola, however, there was something completely wrong.
Adam was gone.
He got down on his knees again, poked his head under the tablecloth. He crawled on his hands and knees, ignoring the splinter in his left hand. He had to find something, anything, that could be a trace of Adam. He couldn't have just disappeared into thin air, could he? And yet it seemed like he did. There weren't any clues left behind and it made Kris's heart go heavy with worry.
As if some presence could sense his concern, another oil lamp lit up in the back of the store. Kris, being an explorer, didn't even care that this light was farther away than the last. Despite the fact that he could trip over a loose nail, his walk became a faster pace as he was determined to find Adam.
There on the ground was a gold pocket watch, dimly glinting on the floor. Kris scooped it up gently, his thumb circling the back of the metal backing. He could hear the little clock inside ticking steadily like a metronome as he opened it and revealed the face. As he wiped dust away from the cracked glass of the face, he could see that the hands were broken off, so he had no idea what time it even was.
"You found it," a voice spoke from behind Kris's shoulder.
"I'm sorry...It's broken." Kris looked up, seeing the underside of a shaven chin. "I can't fix it."
"Don't worry about it. I'm just grateful that you found my watch at all."
The boy turned around, about to hand the pocket watch to this stranger. However, he ended up dropping the watch when he realized who he had been talking to.
"Adam?"
"Silly boy, I brought the watch here to get fixed, not to let it get dropped again." Kris panicked as he scrambled back down to the floor, scooping the watch into his hand once more and handing it over to the man in the black suit.
Kris's head went down when he saw that Adam was raising a hand at him. He cringed, expecting a bellicose smack to his skull. He was quickly proven wrong when a hand simply ran through his brunette locks and pushed them out of his eyes.
"Thank you for the new name, Kris." Adam leaned down, leaving a kiss on Kris's forehead in gratitude. "The name Bradley...it doesn't bring back good memories for me at the moment. Maybe with the new name I can start a better life."
The two of them simply looked at each other in awe. Kris didn't completely believe that this was truly Adam at first, but it was at that moment he knew that this was Adam. He could tell by the eyes. Even though Adam was flesh and blood, and his eyes were no longer sapphires, they still had that look of self-doubt and loneliness.
"Adam, can you be my friend forever?"
Adam's eyes widened, his teeth gritted as he jerked back. "What kind of question is that, Kristopher? That's not a question you ask someone you've just met."
"But I want you to be my friend, Adam."
"I wouldn't mind having you for a friend, but I despise making promises, especially ones that I can't keep."
"Why won't you be my friend?"
Adam placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.
"Because I don't want to hurt you."
And that was when Kris woke up from his dream. It was then he realized that he had to have Adam. He couldn't truly comprehend what it was about the figurine that made him change his mind about the bike. He just knew that he wanted it. Nobody else could have him--it.
When Kris walked into Cowell's shop that afternoon, he half expected it to be empty like in his dream. He was even surprised to see Cowell around the shop, dusting a vase. The boy was quiet in his entrance, for he didn't want to disturb the shopkeeper during his intense cleaning session. His silence, however, didn't matter, for Cowell seemed to be able to sense when a customer came into his shop.
"Back again, Kris?"
"I have one hundred and eighty six dollars, Mr. Cowell!" Kris exclaimed, waving the dollar bills in the air. He expected Mr. Cowell to smile, but his reaction was quite the opposite. Intstead Mr. Cowell frowned, shaking his head as he gestured towards the viola.
"I'm afraid the figurine sold already, Kristopher. I had a customer who came and picked up the doll yesterday."
Kris lowered the dollar bills, his stomach sinking. "What?" He couldn't get what he was hearing. There couldn't be any way that someone had taken Adam away already. Who could have possibly bought Adam within three weeks of Kris's first visit to the shop?
"He's sold."
Without another word, the little boy shoved the money back into his pocket and slumped out of the store, crestfallen. He started walking back down the street towards the salon where his mother still was, ignoring the tears that were starting to form in the back of his eyes. He was a big boy. He wouldn't cry over a stupid doll. Maybe he would just get the bike after all, because that would make everything all better...
Antique (PART 1/?)
AU. "...despite common sense and the image of his angry mother trying to snap him out of it, he gingerly picked up the figurine into the light."
Rating: K (the other parts will be T)
Pairings: friendshippy!Kradam
Chapter Word Count: 3473
Notes: The initial idea was inspired by the antique shop in "Whispers of the Heart" (which if you haven't seen, you should, cause it's probably one of the best Studio Ghibli movies ever), but that's where the similarities end
Ia. 1994, ARKANSAS
"Kris, I told you we aren't going to the candy shop. Your father is already cooking lunch at home," Mrs. Allen said sternly to her son as she gripped his hand tightly. "He'd be very disappointed if you didn't eat his meal."
"But, mom, you said we could go last Saturday and we never did!"
"You know I had to substitute for Mrs. Kinney at Sunday School last Sunday. That lesson took a lot of prep."
"Can we even stop for one minute?"
"No, Kristopher. It's almost noon and we had to be home by--"
Kris wriggled his small hand free before Mrs. Allen could even finish her sentence. He ran up the sidewalk against his mother's wishes, his sneakers skidding against the pavement as he turned the corner. Her protests were ignored as he ran for at least another block or two before he spotted the old looking shop at the end of the street, its rickety sign swinging in the light breeze. He was barely able to make out the peeling gold paint, but from what he could read, the little shop belonged to a person called Cowell.
The little boy stopped in his tracks, briefly gazing into the window. The lighting in the shop was very dim, but he could make out the blurry edges of a grandfather clock, a stack of books, vases and a worn violin. He smiled to himself as he stared at the instrument, awestruck by the burgundy varnish and the delicate etchings around the edges. Being a musically inclined boy, Kris couldn't help but poke his head into the shop.
The moment he opened the doorway, he couldn't help but notice the musty smell in the air and the dust floating in crevices of the ceiling beams. The shop appeared as if the only other living thing was a ghost, for there wasn't another person in sight, not even at the cash register. There were a couple of smaller circular tables in the back covered by threadbare table cloths. The white paint on the walls look as if they needed another coat of paint, because Kris couldn't help but notice how dingy they looked.
Despite all of that though, Kris couldn't help but feel that he had fallen asleep right on the street and was having a dream.
Everything in the shop was foreign to him and he had to explore it. He ran his fingers along the cherry wood counter. He analyzed the Persian carpets hanging on the back wall next to the ticking grandfather clock. He browsed the books in the corner--something about Shakespeare. He even spotted the violin and ran closer to examine it, feeling the bow under his fingertips and brushing a cobweb off of the black leather case.
What, really caught Kris's eye though, was the wooden figurine next to the violin.
It was of a man in a black suit, casually tipping his top hat and leaning on a cane. He looked as if he had red-blonde hair under the hat, something Kris never saw very often. A golden watch hung from his coat pocket, the chain dangling almost obnoxiously. His, face, however, was in shadow. Kris had to know more about this mysterious man, and despite common sense and the image of his angry mother trying to snap him out of it, he gingerly picked up the figurine into the light.
Kris almost had to shield his eyes for a moment. He couldn't see in the darkness, but there were sapphires inset into the eyes of the figurine. The gems glittered in the light and he couldn't help but be mesmerized by them. Kris couldn't put his finger on it, but he couldn't help but feel that the man was...well, lonely. The sapphire in his eyes glazed over in the same way that would happen before someone began to cry.
It would make complete sense. The man was alone, from what Kris could see. He was next to a violin, which while that would make for beautiful music, it would do nothing good for the soul when the peaceful calm of the music ended. Maybe the man's family had been lost. Maybe he didn't even have family...Whatever the case was, the little boy couldn't help but be compelled to be his friend. He couldn't stand to see the man so lonely in the shop. Kris was generally a happy kid and everyone deserved to be happy like him.
"I think I'll name you Adam," he whispered softly, running a thumb along the carvings make the man's face.
He just stood like that, tracing shapes along the painted wood, gazing into the man's eyes. He couldn't help but notice that Adam wasn't like other men, real, human men. Real men were scary, intimidating, not the sort Kris usually found himself to want to hang around with. The figurine in his hands wasn't like that at all.
This figurine was almost beautiful. When his mother had told him about angels, Kris had initially thought of what most kids think of: beings with feathered wings. After seeing this figurine though, Kris had a better idea of what an angel really looked like. If he really wanted to, Kris could tell his life story right then and there and pretend that Adam would actually listen to him .
He almost did.
"Be careful with that!"
Kris's doe eyes widened when he found Adam being yanked out of his hands roughly. He panicked, pivoting around and seeing the monster who had taken the figurine away.
The man was tall, but then again, at young Kristopher's height, everyone was tall to him. The man was bulky, wearing a grey v-neck shirt with rust colored stains on it. His hands were calloused and there was dirt under his nails. Kris couldn't help but note that he looked slightly disheveled, his black hair gone astray.
"This figurine is at least one hundred years old. It's not just a mere toy," the man snapped, placing the figurine back on the table with the utmost care. Kris made note of his strong British accent as he looked anywhere but at the man in front of him. However, his avoidance didn't help as usual because it just shocked him more when the man spoke up again. "Where is your mother anyway?"
"I..um...I left her behind," Kris replied, his voice drifting into something that barely resembled a whisper.
"Well, that wasn't very nice, was it?" The man made his way over to the grandfather clock with an old rag, wiping the glass of the clock face. He paused for a moment, as if waiting for a response, but then he continued to talk, ignoring the boy's reticence. "What is your name?"
"Kris."
"Kris what?"
Kris shuffled his feet, looking down at the chipping wooden floor.
"Kris Allen."
"Alright then, Kris Allen, at least stop touching my things while you're here. The last thing I need is sticky fingerprints all over my merchandise. It's hard enough selling antiques as it is."
There was more awkward silence as Kris sat himself down in a chair in the corner, his eyes darting across the room while the man went about dusting the knick-knacks scattered about. Occasionally, Kris's eyes would dart back towards Adam, who still looked as lonely as ever. The little boy was tempted to run back over and comfort him, but then the grumpy man would shoot a dirty grimace his way and Kris would lose what courage he had.
It seemed like time went by forever in this way until the man spoke up again, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
"What brought you into my shop, Kris?"
"I saw the v-violin."
The man glanced over at the instrument, his fingers going along the edge of the wood.
"This is actually a viola, but I can see why you would like it. Do you play?"
Kris was mentally knocking himself for mistaking the violin for a viola, and for just feeling so stupid in general. He couldn't help but hate the man's tone of voice with him, yet he was so bored out of his mind that he had to make conversation.
"...Yeah."
"Do you like it?"
"I guess."
"You guess? How can you guess something like that?"
"Well, it's not so much that I hate playing, it's just that I have to." Kris could hear the man groan.
"You play it because you wanted to fit in. Is that it?"
Kris twiddled his thumbs, leaning back into the chair.
"...Yeah." The man groaned again, this time rolling his weary eyes.
"If you want to fit in, Kris, then that is all you will ever accomplish in life. Trust me, you will never learn anything by fitting in."
Kris, too young to really take this advice to heart, simply blocked it out of his mind as he played a Michael Jackson song through his head. Quietly, his feet tapped on the floor to the beat playing silently. It was a good try, but in the end it proved futile because Kris still kept staring at Adam. Adam was just so...cool. Yes, he was cool and awesome and what Kris thought he should be.
"You're quite interested in that figurine, aren't you?"
"It's...okay."
Kris couldn't reveal just what he thought.
Not to Adam's captor.
He was about to open his mouth, but then a bell chimed as the front door of the shop opened. Kris and the man both turned their attentions towards the door, and to Kris's horror, it was a curse even more terrible than others he had encountered today.
"Kristopher Neil Allen, how dare you run away like that!"
Kris frowned as he looked over at his mother, bolting out of the chair and standing upright as she grabbed his hand once more. He thought that the two of them would simply leave, but the two adults shook hands, nodding at one another.
"I'm sorry about my son. I hope he didn't disturb you at all, Mr. Cowell."
"It was no problem. I didn't mind the company," the shopkeeper replied, placing his hand rag down. "Kristopher is a good boy. Very inquisitive though. Kept looking at the Victorian figurine there," he added, his eyes pointing towards the figurine in question. Mrs. Allen's gaze went the same direction, piquing her interest enough to walk over and examine it.
"I can see why," she said, holding it up to the light. Kris's eyes popped wide again as she admired the sapphire.
"I'm surprised nobody has bought him yet. They bought the rest of the figurines, but not that one. How ironic...I thought he was the best crafted out of all of them, truly one of a kind. I did have to restore some of the paint when I first bought him over in England, but he's in fantastic condition otherwise."
"What's his name?"
"I believe the name he came with was Bradley Connor."
"He looks like an Adam," Kris blurted. Mrs. Allen and Mr. Cowell both glanced down at him. The little boy noticed the amused looks on both of their faces, Mr. Cowell in particular shaking his head.
"I'll sell him to you at a discount for one hundred and eighty six," Mr. Cowell stated, gesturing towards the figurine.
"That is a good bargain, but my son doesn't deserve it after running off earlier." Mrs. Allen's grip tightened around her son's hand as she said this. "I will definitely send one of my co-workers over here though. I think he would like that grandfather clock of yours."
"Glad to hear it. I could use the business."
Kris kept gazing at Adam longingly, just wanting to hold the wooden doll again.
"Good-bye, Mr. Cowell," Mrs. Allen said, tilting her head as she and Kris began to exit the shop.
"Have a good day."
Even as they were leaving, Kris glanced back at Adam and his glowing sapphire eyes, and he could almost swear that Adam was looking back right at him, crying, trying to call him back.
1b. THREE WEEKS LATER
Mrs. Allen had gone to the hairdresser to get her hair trimmed, and when Kris had saved up the one hundred and eighty six dollars, it was hard to resist going back to Cowell's shop. He had been saving up his allowance to buy a new bike, but when he realized he was just fifteen dollars short from Cowell's discounted offer, he changed his priorities. Everyone seemed flabbergasted at his idea, especially his younger brother Daniel, who thought that the idea of a boy wanting a doll was ludicrous.
Kris even thought the same way at first. He had been saving up for nearly the last six months for this bike. He even did chores around the house and helped out his mother with cooking to earn extra money. He had tried to distract himself with dancing to his tapes the night after he got home from the first visit to Cowell's so that he could forget about Adam. He even listened to his mother berating him through the door when he had been declared grounded for a week. Nothing just seemed to work.
When Kris drifted off to sleep that night, when he entered his dreams, he found himself back in the antique shop. He remembered being so scared because it was night and the lights had died in the shop. When he went to flip the light switch, all he would get was a flicker and then black. Kris kept his hands in front of him, walking slowly, being careful not to trip over anything. Step by step, he made it about a foot behind he bumped into a table. He panicked, because something smashed. He knelt down on the floor, unsure of what to do, his hands hovering over the ground, trying to find the shards of the broken object.
He jerked away when he felt his hands bleeding. They were shaking...He was shaking. He couldn't stop shaking. He tried to stand up, but his knees felt like silly putty, so he kept falling back over. He was alone, it was dark and he was now bleeding. What else could he do? If he kept trying to move any further, he would just knock more things over, and Cowell would get mad at him.
That was why he was stuck. He hated feeling stuck, lost. He was supposed to know everything by now after that bit of time he spent in Cowell's shop. It almost was supposed to feel like a good friend's house and now it felt like a dungeon, a trap.
That's why he started crying.
And that's when the oil lamp lit up in front of the little boy.
It wasn't very bright, but it led the way to the viola, and Kris could see the remnants of the Japanese vase he had knocked over. He wanted to sit there and try to put the pieces back together after spotting the head of the painted crane and its body, but he couldn't help but feel that he should just keep walking, especially while the light was giving him the courage to keep pushing forward. Once Kris got to the viola, however, there was something completely wrong.
Adam was gone.
He got down on his knees again, poked his head under the tablecloth. He crawled on his hands and knees, ignoring the splinter in his left hand. He had to find something, anything, that could be a trace of Adam. He couldn't have just disappeared into thin air, could he? And yet it seemed like he did. There weren't any clues left behind and it made Kris's heart go heavy with worry.
As if some presence could sense his concern, another oil lamp lit up in the back of the store. Kris, being an explorer, didn't even care that this light was farther away than the last. Despite the fact that he could trip over a loose nail, his walk became a faster pace as he was determined to find Adam.
There on the ground was a gold pocket watch, dimly glinting on the floor. Kris scooped it up gently, his thumb circling the back of the metal backing. He could hear the little clock inside ticking steadily like a metronome as he opened it and revealed the face. As he wiped dust away from the cracked glass of the face, he could see that the hands were broken off, so he had no idea what time it even was.
"You found it," a voice spoke from behind Kris's shoulder.
"I'm sorry...It's broken." Kris looked up, seeing the underside of a shaven chin. "I can't fix it."
"Don't worry about it. I'm just grateful that you found my watch at all."
The boy turned around, about to hand the pocket watch to this stranger. However, he ended up dropping the watch when he realized who he had been talking to.
"Adam?"
"Silly boy, I brought the watch here to get fixed, not to let it get dropped again." Kris panicked as he scrambled back down to the floor, scooping the watch into his hand once more and handing it over to the man in the black suit.
Kris's head went down when he saw that Adam was raising a hand at him. He cringed, expecting a bellicose smack to his skull. He was quickly proven wrong when a hand simply ran through his brunette locks and pushed them out of his eyes.
"Thank you for the new name, Kris." Adam leaned down, leaving a kiss on Kris's forehead in gratitude. "The name Bradley...it doesn't bring back good memories for me at the moment. Maybe with the new name I can start a better life."
The two of them simply looked at each other in awe. Kris didn't completely believe that this was truly Adam at first, but it was at that moment he knew that this was Adam. He could tell by the eyes. Even though Adam was flesh and blood, and his eyes were no longer sapphires, they still had that look of self-doubt and loneliness.
"Adam, can you be my friend forever?"
Adam's eyes widened, his teeth gritted as he jerked back. "What kind of question is that, Kristopher? That's not a question you ask someone you've just met."
"But I want you to be my friend, Adam."
"I wouldn't mind having you for a friend, but I despise making promises, especially ones that I can't keep."
"Why won't you be my friend?"
Adam placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.
"Because I don't want to hurt you."
And that was when Kris woke up from his dream. It was then he realized that he had to have Adam. He couldn't truly comprehend what it was about the figurine that made him change his mind about the bike. He just knew that he wanted it. Nobody else could have him--it.
When Kris walked into Cowell's shop that afternoon, he half expected it to be empty like in his dream. He was even surprised to see Cowell around the shop, dusting a vase. The boy was quiet in his entrance, for he didn't want to disturb the shopkeeper during his intense cleaning session. His silence, however, didn't matter, for Cowell seemed to be able to sense when a customer came into his shop.
"Back again, Kris?"
"I have one hundred and eighty six dollars, Mr. Cowell!" Kris exclaimed, waving the dollar bills in the air. He expected Mr. Cowell to smile, but his reaction was quite the opposite. Intstead Mr. Cowell frowned, shaking his head as he gestured towards the viola.
"I'm afraid the figurine sold already, Kristopher. I had a customer who came and picked up the doll yesterday."
Kris lowered the dollar bills, his stomach sinking. "What?" He couldn't get what he was hearing. There couldn't be any way that someone had taken Adam away already. Who could have possibly bought Adam within three weeks of Kris's first visit to the shop?
"He's sold."
Without another word, the little boy shoved the money back into his pocket and slumped out of the store, crestfallen. He started walking back down the street towards the salon where his mother still was, ignoring the tears that were starting to form in the back of his eyes. He was a big boy. He wouldn't cry over a stupid doll. Maybe he would just get the bike after all, because that would make everything all better...