peregrination (Part 3/?)
peregrination 3/?
Author: Shady F.
Has OFFICIALLY crossed into AU territory. Post-Idoltour.
Rating: PG (minor language; feels like this might eventually be PG-13)
Pairing(s): Kradam (preslash), Kraty, Kratt (friendship)
Notes: . Loreena McKennitt has been an influence in writing this. Her music really helped set the mood I was going for, I think, even if it's not exactly gritty sounding music. Also, please tell me if this plot is getting too ridiculous. I'm not aiming for realism but I'm not going for bad fic neither. XD
The two of you enter Matt's apartment, and he makes sure to lock the door behind him. It's not like you guys are in a particularly dangerous section of Los Angeles, but the last thing you two need at the moment is the oddball fan of one of you to stumble in when you're discussing private matters. You guys try to be friendly with each person who you come across in your lives but some things aren't meant to be announced to the whole world.
"I'd let you sit down, but you're make my furniture wet," Matt laments, rummaging around in his kitchen. You see him pulling out two mugs and putting a pot of water and getting coffee together to brew.
"You sure that one pot is going to be enough for tonight?" you ask, trying to crack a joke. Neither of you smile though, which is odd in itself. You're just not feeling it right now, or maybe now it's hitting you that it's only eleven at night and you're already exhausted. You have to force back a yawn as Matt turns back towards you, pointing to a small room to your backside on the left.
"If you want to try at least drying your clothes, I've got the dryer in that room there. I think there's a couple of shirts and jeans folded up in there t--"
"I'm going to be a dwarf in your clothes," you chuckle--a genuine chuckle this time, not a fake. He smiles too, shaking his head as you trod off to the laundry room.
The jeans slide down to your ankles in a plop. Thank God the shades are closed right now or the neighbor across the chasm in the next building over would get a glorious view of your backside. The shirt doesn't come off so easily. You want to punch whoever made you wear a shirt with buttons tonight. Your fingers are trembling so much that it's impeding your progress changing.
You stand there for a moment, numb as the phone rings in Matt's apartment, strange considering how late it is. You can hear him sprint across the floor to pick it up, ceramic shattering all over the wooden floor. You yank the shirt over your head and poke your head outside the laundry room, listening intently and not even caring that these pants you changed into are practically falling off, even with the assistance of a belt.
He grips the phone tightly, his eyes alert as he listens. He keeps nodding, his eyes dark as he looks over at you. His grip suddenly loosens as he covers the speaker, nodding towards you. "Katy wants to speak to you."
"Oh..."
You take the phone. You don't want to hear this. Katy was already not impressed with the fact that you chose to go to this optional party over a quiet night with her. She wouldn't be pleased when she found out that you were going to be out all night looking for Adam neither, but you can't help but feel that tonight is going to be the exception. You can always promise to spend an entire weekend with Katy later anyway...
"Kris? " Her voice sounds tight, frantic.
"Katy, what's wrong? You sound scared."
"Thank God I called the right number. Kris, the police just came by our house looking for Adam."
Your breath hitches in your throat. "...What?"
"It's true." She sighs, as if holding back tears. "They say that he was having issues with a stalker for the last week, and when he didn't turn up at a meeting with an executive on Thursday, they called the police."
"But I just saw him..." Your voice fades away, your eyes darting back and forth as you start pacing back and forth, your socks sliding across Matt's wooden floor. "I was at Ivory and I saw Adam there. "
"Are you sure it was him, Kris?"
You glare at everything and nothing, your voice becoming heavier with responsibility, with the truth. "I saw him. I know I did. I...He..." You know what you want to say, but you're not sure if you can say it. Adam was in your arms just a few hours ago. How could be disappear like that if he had been missing? "Someone must have seen him tonight."
"Nothing..."
"But I saw him right there. He was talking to me in front of the paparazzi!"
A beat.
"You're not lying, are you?"
The lump you can hear forming in your throat...It's starting to do you in. Your free hand is a tight fist, your nails digging into your palm. Keeping a lid on your emotions is hard when all you can think about is someone you care about falling off the face of the earth. It takes all of your might not to turn the damn phone off and sprint out of Matt's apartment right here and now.
"Do you know where he was last seen?"
Katy reels. "Kris, what are you doing? You're not thinking of looking for him, are you?"
You fall silent.
You both already know the answer.
"Katy, do you know where he was last seen?"
You can't believe how cross with her you are going. It's not her fault, you know it's not. It's just the pressure building up inside of you. You can feel it trying to tip over the lid right now, your face flushing in shame and anger. Your knuckles are turning white, your muscles are all tensing up. The backs of your eyes are burning at the thought of something really happening to Adam.
"They say they last saw him at the recording studio over at Hensen's."
You look over at Matt, whispering the place back. He nods in understanding, walking off and grabbing his umbrella after shutting off the coffee pot.
"Katy, I'm sorry, but I'm not--"
"I don't care." You hear her wipe her nose. "I don't think you should be going out like this, but there's no use stopping you...Just be careful, okay?"
You nod. "Okay." You' hang up, you cut her off.
"Kris, I love--"
You shut the phone off, sticking it back where it belongs.
You run over to the laundry room, grabbing your things and shoving them into a plastic bag that was hooked on the wall of the left of the dryer. Everything becomes a blur as you start moving faster and faster, and it becomes impossible to keep up with yourself the moment your hands are on Matt's car keys. Nothing else matters right now. You just want to leave this place and start looking for Adam, find him before shit really happens, or even if there isn't shit that's going to happen, you just want to put an end to the drama that's racing back and forth in your mind right now.
Your feet start guiding you out Matt's apartment. He can barely keep up with you as you storm down the stairs, your footsteps way too loud for this time of night. No doubt he's probably going to get yelled at for this later. You probably should feel bad for that. You almost feel bad for that when suddenly Matt latches onto your shoulder the moment you two are in front of his car--whenever the hell that happened. It's slowing you down frustratingly enough, but he seems insistent as he forces you to stop, forces you to pull back.
"I'm not going to let you drive like this," he says, grabbing the keys from your hand and practically shoving you into the front seat.
You cross your arms, examine yourself in the overheard mirror. You look like a mess at the moment. Your eyes are red, the bags under them taking up your whole eye socket it seems. You can't quite comprehend what is happening to you, why you are turning into a troll with each passing minute. You never really thought of yourself as good looking but you know you looked okay when you first went out tonight.
"So you said Hensen's, right?" Matt turns on the radio, setting it to soft, bluesy music.
"Yeah."
The car starts moving. You close your eyes, you tap your feet. Your fingers keep drumming on the armrest. You're trying to distract yourself, let the music drown out everything else that's buzzing, but it'll never be louder than your thoughts.
It's almost like yesterday, the last time you really got to see Adam. Tonight doesn't really count. Not yet.
It's not unheard of for you two to hug. You two did it all the time when you were on Idol. There were so many photos and videos of you two hugging that there was no mistaking your friendship for the rivalry that the media said you had. Hugging Adam was supposed to be just a sign of affection, but really, you felt safe every time his arms were around you. He was your protector when you were in the middle of danger.
There was one night you were really stressed out. You had just finished performing your set for one of the northeastern stops on the infamous Idol tour...It was that one where you and Katy had gotten into an argument. You remember how down you felt. You managed to cover it up onstage pretty well, kept a comely smile plastered to your face as you hyperactively bounced around the stage, but the moment the lights went down and you were back in your dressing room, you broke down.
You weren't really crying, you weren't really screaming.
You were just there.
Your knees gave out under you and you fell on your knees onto the couch, curling up into a ball. Your face was buried into the musty smelling cushions. No tears, just heaving, sweat dripping. For a minute there, you were wondering why the hell you were there, why you went onto American Idol at all. Maybe grueling schedules like this weren't your thing. Maybe you should have finished college after all, settled down with Katy in Arkansas and wither away in normalcy.
Then Adam was there. You could hear the door squeak open and closed and you could hear the light turn on. Adam wasn't walking in any further yet though. He just stood there. You could tell because you couldn't hear his boots clicking on the floor yet, and that made you thankful and disappointed at the same time.
"Bad night?" Adam questioned.
You gave out a muffled "yes" as you sat back up, your back still towards the door. Your eyes hurt so badly. The stage makeup around your eyes was probably streaking down your face in wispy trails, thick and thin.
"Do you need to be alone?"
You turned towards him, your hands gripping the edge of the couch cushion.
"I don't want to be."
Adam knew what to do.
Before you knew it, your head was buried in his chest again, his heart beating soothingly in your ear. You try not to be the crying type, but you couldn't hide it anymore. And Adam just stood there, leaning his head against yours while you stood there and cried. You can't remember what you said, but it must not have mattered if you forgot about it. All you can remember is that Adam was there for you.
Your eyes snap open.
You have to be there for him tonight.
Matt looks over at you, frowning. While you were zoned out he changed the station on the radio, and somehow made it to a stoplight that was about ten or fifteen minutes away from when you guys first started driving. You know he's doing the best that he can, but part of you wishes you could just grab the steering wheel and jam the gas pedal. You know it's not going to happen, so you slump back, resigned to letting the adrenaline out of your system by keeping a lookout through the rain covered windows.
"I'm sorry, Kris," Matt murmurs, driving once the light turns green again.
"Sorry for what?" You don't want to be having this conversation right now. You don't want to hear these sort of words. Not when you don't know what the future is going to be like tonight.
"Katy said something about Adam having a stalker."
You glare out the window. You don't smoke, but now you know what someone means when they say they need one.
"They said he was last seen at Hensen's three days ago."
"They're going to be closed, you know."
You were waiting for him to say that.
"Not if I can do anything about it."
Matt half-heartedly laughs, nervously. "Do you have a key?"
"I'll call the police."
Really though, you'd find a crowbar if it came down to it and smash the windows in.
...Did you really just think of that? Of course you'd call the police. Or maybe even call the manager. Call someone.
What's wrong with you?
"At least there's still some sense left in that brain of yours."
Matt doesn't know what you were really thinking. He doesn't need to.
"Just keep calm, Kris," he says, taking a left up Masterson Street. "We're almost there."
You do a double-take, your eyes glazing over as you repeat the words to yourself in your head.
"Keep it together. You won't be able to put on a good show if you're all tense like that," Adam says in your thoughts.
It's hard to keep calm when you hear police sirens in the distance. It's even harder to keep calm when the fog starts blinking red and blue, and the sirens keep coming closer to you. Your teeth are gritted to the point of grinding as you and Matt pull up to Hensen's, and there are two or three police cars pulled up to it. There are two cops standing out in the front door, talking to one another, with a third holding a pad of paper and a pen while scribbling furiously.
Your eyes dart to the broken glass littering the sidewalk, and the broken windows and the smashed in front door. Matt parks on the other side of the street, trying to grab your arm as you're reaching for the car door.
"Stay in the car." You're not looking at him, you're still trying to leave, but he jerks you back, forcing you to look straight into his eyes. "Stay in the car," he repeats, insistent. You angrily watch him as he leaves the car, cautiously walking over to the three cops.
They stop talking to one another and turn towards Matt, acknowledging him with a shaking of their heads and a pointing away. He looks desperate as he points back at his car, no doubt explaining the situation. The tallest cop nods understandably, patting him on the shoulder and pointing away once more, his face growing stone-like.
The second cop tries to make Matt leave them alone, over dramatically gesturing. The third cop, the one with the paper, scribbles something else on his paper and rips a piece, handing it to Matt. Matt shoves it into his pocket, frowning as he walks back to the car and opens the door, practically collapsing into the driver's seat as he hands the slip of paper over to you.
"They won't tell me anything that's going on," he says, a twinge of regret in his voice as he reignites the car.
"Did they at least tell you if the break in had anything to do with Adam?"
Matt shakes his head, a sigh coming out of his mouth. "They said there was nothing to see." An audible sigh escapes from you too, but the weight still isn't completely off your shoulders. Something is off here. There is something that Matt isn't telling you--you can see it in his eyes, the way they avoid yours, the way they frantically dart away.
"Were you able to tell them anything else?"
Matt shakes his head again. "They wouldn't even tell me when they got there."
You stare at them, your brow furrowing. You lean to the side, moving Matt out of your line of vision as you bite your lip. You know they're police officers and you shouldn't argue with them. Logic is telling you that if you really showed how you felt at the moment that they would slap handcuffs on you and take you down to the station, maybe even whip the butt of their guns in your face.
That's why you find yourself opening the car door, ignoring Matt snapping at you to get back in the car.
The three cops start going back inside--something that catches even you off-guard.
The rain is a thick, drippy blanket over you as you start walking towards the scene of the crime. As you get closer, you can see one cop faintly in the broken doorway with a roll of yellow tape in his hand, starting to drape it between the two front doors. You ignore the garish looking safety cones they have set up around the perimeter as you step onto the curb.
The light is starting to grow hazy around you, almost like someone tripped a power switch in the building. The glass is being crushed underneath your Converses in sounds that you can't describe any better than glistening. The water is starting to form a miniscule river on the cracked pavement, carrying the glass down into the drainage nearby. You can feel someone staring at you from the doorway as you start walking up the steps.
Someone is definitely yelling at you. It might be Matt, it might be the police officer with the tape. You can't really tell right now. You're just ghosting up the steps, the awning of the roof blocking the rain over your head as you start leaving puddles at your feet and a trail of sweat and rain stalking behind your feet.
The jagged edges of the glass became clearer and clearer to you now. You can see where someone stole your idea and used a crowbar to smash in the windows. Part of you is cursing them out for reading your thoughts and part of you is glad that you're not completely crazy for thinking of it in the first place.
A car door slams behind you and you can hear heavy breathing through the rain.
"Kris, what are you doing?"
You reach for the door, pushing it open and ignoring the cop yelling in front of you.
"Sir, this is a crime scene. Back away from the line."
The yellow tape is being erected, but you rip it away, crumpling it in your fist.
"I want to know what's going on here," you say, your voice hoarse. "What happened here?"
"Back away, sir," the cop repeats, the tape falling to the floor as he sets a new priority. "LAPD only."
"I just need to know," you say, nudging him aside as you walk towards the inner door.
You can see down the hallway. There's nothing brutal going on in there, no sign of death, no blood splashed against the walls. Nothing like what you expected at all. Nothing you really need to freak out about, you guess. You just turn back towards the officer, shaking your head. His brows are furrowed, and you find it wise to at least remove yourself from where the yellow line was.
"What the hell are you doing?" the cop asks, reinstating the tape.
"I just need to know what happened here!" you answer, a little louder, a little more desperately than you intended. Matt shows up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You don't even flinch. You look towards him, nodding, letting him know that everything is okay.
Or that it might be.
"There was a break-in and some audio recordings were stolen. That's all," the cop answers gruffly, taping the other half of the tape up. Matt is trying to wordlessly let you know that it's time to go, but you can't just be left hanging like this.
"What type of audio footage?" you ask, trying to keep a stoic expression on your face.
"Why do you care so much?" The cop arches a brow, leaning forward and peering at your in the dim lighting.
"My name is Kris Allen. I had a friend who recorded some music in here a few days ago and I was wondering if his work was affected by the break in." The cop leans forward even further, scrutinizing your bone structure. You didn't really want to do this because it always makes you feel like some self-important asshole, but you pull out your wallet and show your driver's I.D. You shove it at him, nearly jabbing him as you force him to look at it. "If you don't believe me, then look at this."
The cop compares the two Kris Allens in front of him, and he kind of chuckles a little bit, handing your wallet back to you.
"You're that guy who won American Idol this year?"
"Yes."
You're totally serious. He starts laughing more and you try not to roll you eyes.
"Y-you're such a kid!" the cop exclaims, laughing even more. "You're so cute, trying to play detective." Matt pokes your shoulder, tries to get you to turn away as the cop starts guffawing now, his eyes squeezing shut. "Go play dress-up somewhere else, kiddo. Let the adults handle this." You feel your blood boiling as tears start coming out of his eyes.
Another cop shows up, incredulous at his co-worker. "What's wrong with you?" the new cop asks, scratching his shaved head.
"This little kid here thinks that he can play detective." The laughing cop struggles to get a cohesive answer out, his voice reaching hysterical levels. "He's not just any kid--he's the American Idol. What's he doing next, going to enter for Detective Idol?"
The second cop starts snickering, grinning. "I don't think singing and police work have the same credentials."
"I know, right?" The two cops start laughing more, the first one slapping his leg as he starts keeling over, his gut hurting. "Maybe he can use his singing as a form of torture!"
"And then he can get criminals to confess so that he doesn't sing another one of those crappy ballads!"
"I--"
The cops cut you off with their escalating laughter. Soon enough a third cop, unaware of the situation, starts laughing too for no reason. Matt tries to hold onto your shoulder, try to keep you caged, but you've had way too much. You jerk away, ripping the yellow line back down as you stomp forward, adrenaline carrying you forward.
Before you even realize it, you find yourself slamming the first cop against the wall, his head producing a loud thud as it slams the bricks.
"WAS ADAM LAMBERT'S AUDIO AFFECTED OR NOT?" Your voice explodes out of your throat. It feels like it's shredding your vocal chords apart.
"I don't know, sir," the suddenly sober cop says.
"I don't believe you," you snap as the other two cops pull your away. You try to yank yourself out, but they're much stronger than you. It's no use trying to resist as they shove you back towards Matt. Matt grabs your arm, his fingers digging into it as the cops talk to him.
"You and your friend both get out of here," the second cop orders sternly. "We'll let your buddy there off with a warning but if he pulls another stunt like that he's not going to be so lucky."
"Understood, officer."
Matt yanks you away in silence as the cops resume their conversation amongst themselves.
"What a whack job," the third one says. "He's almost as big of a whackjob as that Cheeks guy that just got arrested last night."
"Cheeks--" Your ears perk up in the rain at the mention of it. You and Matt stop. He cluelessly stares at you as you listen to the cops some more. "--you mean that drunk who kept calling himself Cheeks, right? What was his name?" the first cop asks.
"Brad Bell. I was the one who arrested him," the second cop answers. "He's in the station over at Highland Avenue."
That was all you needed to hear.
You know where you need to go now. You keep walking again and Matt follows you, the two of you getting back to the safety of his car. You two nearly start fogging up the windows with all the rain still dripping off of you when he turns on the car and the heater.
Matt starts driving again, clearly agitated with you.
It's silent for a moment, but then you speak up, hesitant.
"I'm sorry," you offer.
"Kris, you almost got arrested back there for assaulting an officer."
"I didn't do anything," you insist.
"You shoved him against the wall! If I was a cop I would have thought you were about to Hulk out too." He's bitter, he's angry. This is not a side of Matt you see very often, if at all. "What were you thinking??"
Your mind goes blank.
What were you thinking about?
Your mind was as blank then as it is now.
"I know you're worried about Adam, but that's no reason to do things like that."
"I know..." In your head you're praying that God is going to show you a way to stay calm in the future. "...I just...I don't now what's come over me."
"Damn straight."
There is a pause as you remember what the cops said. Brad Bell is apparently down at the station right now at Highland...Brad Bell knows Adam very well, being an ex-boyfriend and all and on amicable terms with him. Maybe he knows something.
"Matt, we're going to the police station."
His eyebrows shoot up. "You just avoided going to the police station. Now you want to go there?"
You look out the window as the street lights blaze by. The car is getting closer to civilization and you can feel it. Just as well, because that's the way you two need to go next.
"We have someone to bail out."
Author: Shady F.
Has OFFICIALLY crossed into AU territory. Post-Idoltour.
Rating: PG (minor language; feels like this might eventually be PG-13)
Pairing(s): Kradam (preslash), Kraty, Kratt (friendship)
Notes: . Loreena McKennitt has been an influence in writing this. Her music really helped set the mood I was going for, I think, even if it's not exactly gritty sounding music. Also, please tell me if this plot is getting too ridiculous. I'm not aiming for realism but I'm not going for bad fic neither. XD
The two of you enter Matt's apartment, and he makes sure to lock the door behind him. It's not like you guys are in a particularly dangerous section of Los Angeles, but the last thing you two need at the moment is the oddball fan of one of you to stumble in when you're discussing private matters. You guys try to be friendly with each person who you come across in your lives but some things aren't meant to be announced to the whole world.
"I'd let you sit down, but you're make my furniture wet," Matt laments, rummaging around in his kitchen. You see him pulling out two mugs and putting a pot of water and getting coffee together to brew.
"You sure that one pot is going to be enough for tonight?" you ask, trying to crack a joke. Neither of you smile though, which is odd in itself. You're just not feeling it right now, or maybe now it's hitting you that it's only eleven at night and you're already exhausted. You have to force back a yawn as Matt turns back towards you, pointing to a small room to your backside on the left.
"If you want to try at least drying your clothes, I've got the dryer in that room there. I think there's a couple of shirts and jeans folded up in there t--"
"I'm going to be a dwarf in your clothes," you chuckle--a genuine chuckle this time, not a fake. He smiles too, shaking his head as you trod off to the laundry room.
The jeans slide down to your ankles in a plop. Thank God the shades are closed right now or the neighbor across the chasm in the next building over would get a glorious view of your backside. The shirt doesn't come off so easily. You want to punch whoever made you wear a shirt with buttons tonight. Your fingers are trembling so much that it's impeding your progress changing.
You stand there for a moment, numb as the phone rings in Matt's apartment, strange considering how late it is. You can hear him sprint across the floor to pick it up, ceramic shattering all over the wooden floor. You yank the shirt over your head and poke your head outside the laundry room, listening intently and not even caring that these pants you changed into are practically falling off, even with the assistance of a belt.
He grips the phone tightly, his eyes alert as he listens. He keeps nodding, his eyes dark as he looks over at you. His grip suddenly loosens as he covers the speaker, nodding towards you. "Katy wants to speak to you."
"Oh..."
You take the phone. You don't want to hear this. Katy was already not impressed with the fact that you chose to go to this optional party over a quiet night with her. She wouldn't be pleased when she found out that you were going to be out all night looking for Adam neither, but you can't help but feel that tonight is going to be the exception. You can always promise to spend an entire weekend with Katy later anyway...
"Kris? " Her voice sounds tight, frantic.
"Katy, what's wrong? You sound scared."
"Thank God I called the right number. Kris, the police just came by our house looking for Adam."
Your breath hitches in your throat. "...What?"
"It's true." She sighs, as if holding back tears. "They say that he was having issues with a stalker for the last week, and when he didn't turn up at a meeting with an executive on Thursday, they called the police."
"But I just saw him..." Your voice fades away, your eyes darting back and forth as you start pacing back and forth, your socks sliding across Matt's wooden floor. "I was at Ivory and I saw Adam there. "
"Are you sure it was him, Kris?"
You glare at everything and nothing, your voice becoming heavier with responsibility, with the truth. "I saw him. I know I did. I...He..." You know what you want to say, but you're not sure if you can say it. Adam was in your arms just a few hours ago. How could be disappear like that if he had been missing? "Someone must have seen him tonight."
"Nothing..."
"But I saw him right there. He was talking to me in front of the paparazzi!"
A beat.
"You're not lying, are you?"
The lump you can hear forming in your throat...It's starting to do you in. Your free hand is a tight fist, your nails digging into your palm. Keeping a lid on your emotions is hard when all you can think about is someone you care about falling off the face of the earth. It takes all of your might not to turn the damn phone off and sprint out of Matt's apartment right here and now.
"Do you know where he was last seen?"
Katy reels. "Kris, what are you doing? You're not thinking of looking for him, are you?"
You fall silent.
You both already know the answer.
"Katy, do you know where he was last seen?"
You can't believe how cross with her you are going. It's not her fault, you know it's not. It's just the pressure building up inside of you. You can feel it trying to tip over the lid right now, your face flushing in shame and anger. Your knuckles are turning white, your muscles are all tensing up. The backs of your eyes are burning at the thought of something really happening to Adam.
"They say they last saw him at the recording studio over at Hensen's."
You look over at Matt, whispering the place back. He nods in understanding, walking off and grabbing his umbrella after shutting off the coffee pot.
"Katy, I'm sorry, but I'm not--"
"I don't care." You hear her wipe her nose. "I don't think you should be going out like this, but there's no use stopping you...Just be careful, okay?"
You nod. "Okay." You' hang up, you cut her off.
"Kris, I love--"
You shut the phone off, sticking it back where it belongs.
You run over to the laundry room, grabbing your things and shoving them into a plastic bag that was hooked on the wall of the left of the dryer. Everything becomes a blur as you start moving faster and faster, and it becomes impossible to keep up with yourself the moment your hands are on Matt's car keys. Nothing else matters right now. You just want to leave this place and start looking for Adam, find him before shit really happens, or even if there isn't shit that's going to happen, you just want to put an end to the drama that's racing back and forth in your mind right now.
Your feet start guiding you out Matt's apartment. He can barely keep up with you as you storm down the stairs, your footsteps way too loud for this time of night. No doubt he's probably going to get yelled at for this later. You probably should feel bad for that. You almost feel bad for that when suddenly Matt latches onto your shoulder the moment you two are in front of his car--whenever the hell that happened. It's slowing you down frustratingly enough, but he seems insistent as he forces you to stop, forces you to pull back.
"I'm not going to let you drive like this," he says, grabbing the keys from your hand and practically shoving you into the front seat.
You cross your arms, examine yourself in the overheard mirror. You look like a mess at the moment. Your eyes are red, the bags under them taking up your whole eye socket it seems. You can't quite comprehend what is happening to you, why you are turning into a troll with each passing minute. You never really thought of yourself as good looking but you know you looked okay when you first went out tonight.
"So you said Hensen's, right?" Matt turns on the radio, setting it to soft, bluesy music.
"Yeah."
The car starts moving. You close your eyes, you tap your feet. Your fingers keep drumming on the armrest. You're trying to distract yourself, let the music drown out everything else that's buzzing, but it'll never be louder than your thoughts.
It's almost like yesterday, the last time you really got to see Adam. Tonight doesn't really count. Not yet.
It's not unheard of for you two to hug. You two did it all the time when you were on Idol. There were so many photos and videos of you two hugging that there was no mistaking your friendship for the rivalry that the media said you had. Hugging Adam was supposed to be just a sign of affection, but really, you felt safe every time his arms were around you. He was your protector when you were in the middle of danger.
There was one night you were really stressed out. You had just finished performing your set for one of the northeastern stops on the infamous Idol tour...It was that one where you and Katy had gotten into an argument. You remember how down you felt. You managed to cover it up onstage pretty well, kept a comely smile plastered to your face as you hyperactively bounced around the stage, but the moment the lights went down and you were back in your dressing room, you broke down.
You weren't really crying, you weren't really screaming.
You were just there.
Your knees gave out under you and you fell on your knees onto the couch, curling up into a ball. Your face was buried into the musty smelling cushions. No tears, just heaving, sweat dripping. For a minute there, you were wondering why the hell you were there, why you went onto American Idol at all. Maybe grueling schedules like this weren't your thing. Maybe you should have finished college after all, settled down with Katy in Arkansas and wither away in normalcy.
Then Adam was there. You could hear the door squeak open and closed and you could hear the light turn on. Adam wasn't walking in any further yet though. He just stood there. You could tell because you couldn't hear his boots clicking on the floor yet, and that made you thankful and disappointed at the same time.
"Bad night?" Adam questioned.
You gave out a muffled "yes" as you sat back up, your back still towards the door. Your eyes hurt so badly. The stage makeup around your eyes was probably streaking down your face in wispy trails, thick and thin.
"Do you need to be alone?"
You turned towards him, your hands gripping the edge of the couch cushion.
"I don't want to be."
Adam knew what to do.
Before you knew it, your head was buried in his chest again, his heart beating soothingly in your ear. You try not to be the crying type, but you couldn't hide it anymore. And Adam just stood there, leaning his head against yours while you stood there and cried. You can't remember what you said, but it must not have mattered if you forgot about it. All you can remember is that Adam was there for you.
Your eyes snap open.
You have to be there for him tonight.
Matt looks over at you, frowning. While you were zoned out he changed the station on the radio, and somehow made it to a stoplight that was about ten or fifteen minutes away from when you guys first started driving. You know he's doing the best that he can, but part of you wishes you could just grab the steering wheel and jam the gas pedal. You know it's not going to happen, so you slump back, resigned to letting the adrenaline out of your system by keeping a lookout through the rain covered windows.
"I'm sorry, Kris," Matt murmurs, driving once the light turns green again.
"Sorry for what?" You don't want to be having this conversation right now. You don't want to hear these sort of words. Not when you don't know what the future is going to be like tonight.
"Katy said something about Adam having a stalker."
You glare out the window. You don't smoke, but now you know what someone means when they say they need one.
"They said he was last seen at Hensen's three days ago."
"They're going to be closed, you know."
You were waiting for him to say that.
"Not if I can do anything about it."
Matt half-heartedly laughs, nervously. "Do you have a key?"
"I'll call the police."
Really though, you'd find a crowbar if it came down to it and smash the windows in.
...Did you really just think of that? Of course you'd call the police. Or maybe even call the manager. Call someone.
What's wrong with you?
"At least there's still some sense left in that brain of yours."
Matt doesn't know what you were really thinking. He doesn't need to.
"Just keep calm, Kris," he says, taking a left up Masterson Street. "We're almost there."
You do a double-take, your eyes glazing over as you repeat the words to yourself in your head.
"Keep it together. You won't be able to put on a good show if you're all tense like that," Adam says in your thoughts.
It's hard to keep calm when you hear police sirens in the distance. It's even harder to keep calm when the fog starts blinking red and blue, and the sirens keep coming closer to you. Your teeth are gritted to the point of grinding as you and Matt pull up to Hensen's, and there are two or three police cars pulled up to it. There are two cops standing out in the front door, talking to one another, with a third holding a pad of paper and a pen while scribbling furiously.
Your eyes dart to the broken glass littering the sidewalk, and the broken windows and the smashed in front door. Matt parks on the other side of the street, trying to grab your arm as you're reaching for the car door.
"Stay in the car." You're not looking at him, you're still trying to leave, but he jerks you back, forcing you to look straight into his eyes. "Stay in the car," he repeats, insistent. You angrily watch him as he leaves the car, cautiously walking over to the three cops.
They stop talking to one another and turn towards Matt, acknowledging him with a shaking of their heads and a pointing away. He looks desperate as he points back at his car, no doubt explaining the situation. The tallest cop nods understandably, patting him on the shoulder and pointing away once more, his face growing stone-like.
The second cop tries to make Matt leave them alone, over dramatically gesturing. The third cop, the one with the paper, scribbles something else on his paper and rips a piece, handing it to Matt. Matt shoves it into his pocket, frowning as he walks back to the car and opens the door, practically collapsing into the driver's seat as he hands the slip of paper over to you.
"They won't tell me anything that's going on," he says, a twinge of regret in his voice as he reignites the car.
"Did they at least tell you if the break in had anything to do with Adam?"
Matt shakes his head, a sigh coming out of his mouth. "They said there was nothing to see." An audible sigh escapes from you too, but the weight still isn't completely off your shoulders. Something is off here. There is something that Matt isn't telling you--you can see it in his eyes, the way they avoid yours, the way they frantically dart away.
"Were you able to tell them anything else?"
Matt shakes his head again. "They wouldn't even tell me when they got there."
You stare at them, your brow furrowing. You lean to the side, moving Matt out of your line of vision as you bite your lip. You know they're police officers and you shouldn't argue with them. Logic is telling you that if you really showed how you felt at the moment that they would slap handcuffs on you and take you down to the station, maybe even whip the butt of their guns in your face.
That's why you find yourself opening the car door, ignoring Matt snapping at you to get back in the car.
The three cops start going back inside--something that catches even you off-guard.
The rain is a thick, drippy blanket over you as you start walking towards the scene of the crime. As you get closer, you can see one cop faintly in the broken doorway with a roll of yellow tape in his hand, starting to drape it between the two front doors. You ignore the garish looking safety cones they have set up around the perimeter as you step onto the curb.
The light is starting to grow hazy around you, almost like someone tripped a power switch in the building. The glass is being crushed underneath your Converses in sounds that you can't describe any better than glistening. The water is starting to form a miniscule river on the cracked pavement, carrying the glass down into the drainage nearby. You can feel someone staring at you from the doorway as you start walking up the steps.
Someone is definitely yelling at you. It might be Matt, it might be the police officer with the tape. You can't really tell right now. You're just ghosting up the steps, the awning of the roof blocking the rain over your head as you start leaving puddles at your feet and a trail of sweat and rain stalking behind your feet.
The jagged edges of the glass became clearer and clearer to you now. You can see where someone stole your idea and used a crowbar to smash in the windows. Part of you is cursing them out for reading your thoughts and part of you is glad that you're not completely crazy for thinking of it in the first place.
A car door slams behind you and you can hear heavy breathing through the rain.
"Kris, what are you doing?"
You reach for the door, pushing it open and ignoring the cop yelling in front of you.
"Sir, this is a crime scene. Back away from the line."
The yellow tape is being erected, but you rip it away, crumpling it in your fist.
"I want to know what's going on here," you say, your voice hoarse. "What happened here?"
"Back away, sir," the cop repeats, the tape falling to the floor as he sets a new priority. "LAPD only."
"I just need to know," you say, nudging him aside as you walk towards the inner door.
You can see down the hallway. There's nothing brutal going on in there, no sign of death, no blood splashed against the walls. Nothing like what you expected at all. Nothing you really need to freak out about, you guess. You just turn back towards the officer, shaking your head. His brows are furrowed, and you find it wise to at least remove yourself from where the yellow line was.
"What the hell are you doing?" the cop asks, reinstating the tape.
"I just need to know what happened here!" you answer, a little louder, a little more desperately than you intended. Matt shows up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You don't even flinch. You look towards him, nodding, letting him know that everything is okay.
Or that it might be.
"There was a break-in and some audio recordings were stolen. That's all," the cop answers gruffly, taping the other half of the tape up. Matt is trying to wordlessly let you know that it's time to go, but you can't just be left hanging like this.
"What type of audio footage?" you ask, trying to keep a stoic expression on your face.
"Why do you care so much?" The cop arches a brow, leaning forward and peering at your in the dim lighting.
"My name is Kris Allen. I had a friend who recorded some music in here a few days ago and I was wondering if his work was affected by the break in." The cop leans forward even further, scrutinizing your bone structure. You didn't really want to do this because it always makes you feel like some self-important asshole, but you pull out your wallet and show your driver's I.D. You shove it at him, nearly jabbing him as you force him to look at it. "If you don't believe me, then look at this."
The cop compares the two Kris Allens in front of him, and he kind of chuckles a little bit, handing your wallet back to you.
"You're that guy who won American Idol this year?"
"Yes."
You're totally serious. He starts laughing more and you try not to roll you eyes.
"Y-you're such a kid!" the cop exclaims, laughing even more. "You're so cute, trying to play detective." Matt pokes your shoulder, tries to get you to turn away as the cop starts guffawing now, his eyes squeezing shut. "Go play dress-up somewhere else, kiddo. Let the adults handle this." You feel your blood boiling as tears start coming out of his eyes.
Another cop shows up, incredulous at his co-worker. "What's wrong with you?" the new cop asks, scratching his shaved head.
"This little kid here thinks that he can play detective." The laughing cop struggles to get a cohesive answer out, his voice reaching hysterical levels. "He's not just any kid--he's the American Idol. What's he doing next, going to enter for Detective Idol?"
The second cop starts snickering, grinning. "I don't think singing and police work have the same credentials."
"I know, right?" The two cops start laughing more, the first one slapping his leg as he starts keeling over, his gut hurting. "Maybe he can use his singing as a form of torture!"
"And then he can get criminals to confess so that he doesn't sing another one of those crappy ballads!"
"I--"
The cops cut you off with their escalating laughter. Soon enough a third cop, unaware of the situation, starts laughing too for no reason. Matt tries to hold onto your shoulder, try to keep you caged, but you've had way too much. You jerk away, ripping the yellow line back down as you stomp forward, adrenaline carrying you forward.
Before you even realize it, you find yourself slamming the first cop against the wall, his head producing a loud thud as it slams the bricks.
"WAS ADAM LAMBERT'S AUDIO AFFECTED OR NOT?" Your voice explodes out of your throat. It feels like it's shredding your vocal chords apart.
"I don't know, sir," the suddenly sober cop says.
"I don't believe you," you snap as the other two cops pull your away. You try to yank yourself out, but they're much stronger than you. It's no use trying to resist as they shove you back towards Matt. Matt grabs your arm, his fingers digging into it as the cops talk to him.
"You and your friend both get out of here," the second cop orders sternly. "We'll let your buddy there off with a warning but if he pulls another stunt like that he's not going to be so lucky."
"Understood, officer."
Matt yanks you away in silence as the cops resume their conversation amongst themselves.
"What a whack job," the third one says. "He's almost as big of a whackjob as that Cheeks guy that just got arrested last night."
"Cheeks--" Your ears perk up in the rain at the mention of it. You and Matt stop. He cluelessly stares at you as you listen to the cops some more. "--you mean that drunk who kept calling himself Cheeks, right? What was his name?" the first cop asks.
"Brad Bell. I was the one who arrested him," the second cop answers. "He's in the station over at Highland Avenue."
That was all you needed to hear.
You know where you need to go now. You keep walking again and Matt follows you, the two of you getting back to the safety of his car. You two nearly start fogging up the windows with all the rain still dripping off of you when he turns on the car and the heater.
Matt starts driving again, clearly agitated with you.
It's silent for a moment, but then you speak up, hesitant.
"I'm sorry," you offer.
"Kris, you almost got arrested back there for assaulting an officer."
"I didn't do anything," you insist.
"You shoved him against the wall! If I was a cop I would have thought you were about to Hulk out too." He's bitter, he's angry. This is not a side of Matt you see very often, if at all. "What were you thinking??"
Your mind goes blank.
What were you thinking about?
Your mind was as blank then as it is now.
"I know you're worried about Adam, but that's no reason to do things like that."
"I know..." In your head you're praying that God is going to show you a way to stay calm in the future. "...I just...I don't now what's come over me."
"Damn straight."
There is a pause as you remember what the cops said. Brad Bell is apparently down at the station right now at Highland...Brad Bell knows Adam very well, being an ex-boyfriend and all and on amicable terms with him. Maybe he knows something.
"Matt, we're going to the police station."
His eyebrows shoot up. "You just avoided going to the police station. Now you want to go there?"
You look out the window as the street lights blaze by. The car is getting closer to civilization and you can feel it. Just as well, because that's the way you two need to go next.
"We have someone to bail out."