This is lovely. You've created such a beautiful atmosphere with the whole thing, wistfulness and pretending-it-doesn't-matter, and a clear sense of the underlying emptiness Adam feels without Kris. Lots of great moments along the way, too.
My dear-this is exquisite-truly. You have such a gift. Here is one section I loved:
Kris sent pictures. Never of himself. Of a sunset or a shoe or, once when he was in Canada, a moose standing beside his tour bus.
“Kris as artist,” texted Adam.
Adam sent pictures back. Fragments of himself. His new studded jacket, violet-streaked hair, a close-up of a rhinestone rimmed eye.
“Adam as art,” sent back Kris.
Which gave Adam pause. After a while, Kris sent a picture. It was an old one of Adam, leaning against the Idol tour bus and squinting against the sun. Adam flinched at the sight of his messy hair and naked face so pale and freckled, and his instinct was to delete. Then he noticed the caption. Fresh canvas. Infinite possibilities. And oh the pain when that "little tendril" may be broken. I hope you know what a stunningly wonderful writer you are. You create images that stay with me long after I've finished the story. And of course, love my Brad in this. And this could have been such a hackneyed premise--but somehow you made
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You're one of my favourite writers on this fandom! :D
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SO MANY FEELINGS
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Kris sent pictures. Never of himself. Of a sunset or a shoe or, once when he was in Canada, a moose standing beside his tour bus.
“Kris as artist,” texted Adam.
Adam sent pictures back. Fragments of himself. His new studded jacket, violet-streaked hair, a close-up of a rhinestone rimmed eye.
“Adam as art,” sent back Kris.
Which gave Adam pause. After a while, Kris sent a picture. It was an old one of Adam, leaning against the Idol tour bus and squinting against the sun. Adam flinched at the sight of his messy hair and naked face so pale and freckled, and his instinct was to delete. Then he noticed the caption. Fresh canvas. Infinite possibilities. And oh the pain when that "little tendril" may be broken. I hope you know what a stunningly wonderful writer you are. You create images that stay with me long after I've finished the story. And of course, love my Brad in this. And this could have been such a hackneyed premise--but somehow you made ( ... )
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