Three Kisses | Kris/Adam, PG13
(Originally posted 9th May 2009.)
Title: Three Kisses
Author: ilytheira
Pairing: Kradam (Kris Allen/Adam Lambert)
Rating: PG13
Summary: Forty-nine voices in your head are screaming obscenities, are protesting, but there are fifty-one voices in your heart that egg you on, that whisper soothing nothings that allow you to melt perfectly into him until you’re both just there and holding on to each other.
Notes: Same deal as the other installments, bbs; I recommend reading the previous one-Two Catalysts-before reading this one. As with Catalysts, Kisses is split only into three parts, and its three sections are written in order. Also, take note that Entanglement is not a part of this series.
Disclaimer: Neither Kris nor Adam, nor any of the people featured, or any of the songs below, belong to me.
Where the last one was Kris-centric, this little piece offers alternating points of view. I apologize for the delay-it’s been AP testing these past two weeks, and aside from that, I’ve been swamped with projects, more tests, and homework. So fun. LOL.
I usually spot all of my mistakes a day or two after posting, so if you see any mistakes, I apologize; please don’t hesitate to point them out to me.
Missed the previous part? Check out Two Catalysts! :)
I. If God’s Gravity Should Decide to Forsake Us | ‘turn Your World Around’ ; Ashley Chambliss
There are only seven of them left after Scott’s departure, but lunch is still as noisy as it had been when they still had Jorge and Jasmine among them. Danny has taken his usual seat at the head of the table, plate full of another healthy serving of Lil’s macaroni and cheese, and to his left, Allison calls him out on it and simply laughs. Anoop is shaking his head at him from across Allison, and Matt, who is seated next to him, reaches for the bowl as Danny passes it down. Lil is looking quite proud of herself as Matt passes the bowl across the table to her, and she gives herself a scoop before sliding the bowl over to Kris. Adam keeps his eyes trained on the chicken on his plate, barely registering Matt asking him about Don Juan DeMarco and if his choice this week is a good one. He nods and says, “Your voice would be good for it,” because it’s what he believes Matt wants to hear. It’s obviously not, though, because Matt sighs exasperatedly and shakes his head, but Adam doesn’t want to rise up to confrontation, and he’s glad that Matt turns away and simply lets the subject drop.
“Adam?” His eyes flicker up as Kris says his name quietly, and in acknowledgement of the other man’s smile, he tilts his head and nods. “Mac and cheese?”
Kris presents the bowl to him, and he looks at the half-empty bowl with a raised eyebrow. He shakes his head and makes sure to look down to avoid Kris’ crestfallen look, but looks up again to squarely meet his eyes as Matt reaches past him for the bowl and proceeds to pass it back to Allison. Adam watches as Kris swallows nervously, guitar-calloused fingers around the fork in his hand tightening and mouth open and poised and ready to ask a question that he’s sure has already been formed but just can’t be vocalized what’s happening to us? What’s going on? You know that I didn’t want this to happen to us, right? C’mon, won’t you talk to me already?, and it’s almost an official staring contest before Matt nudges him and says, “Dude, are you awake? Alli’s called you three times now.”
Adam calmly exhales and forces himself to break eye contact with Kris to turn to the redheaded teenager and smile apologetically at her. “I’m sorry, doll,” he says, but his voice comes out higher than he’d intended and he frowns at himself for letting Kris affect him in such a way. He clears his throat, and ignores Kris looking away, disregards Matt’s hand on his shoulder. “What’s up?”
“Don’t - don’t you think they’re going to call me out on singing a song David did last year?” she asks, playing with the macaroni and cheese on her plate; Adam can almost see the words don’t play with your food form in Lil’s mind. “I mean, people are definitely gonna compare it to what he did last year, and-”
Adam shakes his head. “People are always going to be comparing, doll,” he says soothingly, and if he could reach over and hold her hand without being impolite to Matt, then he certainly would have done so. “If you don’t want to do the song, then go with your gut - but if you want my honest opinion, I think it’d sound good with your voice.”
The last bit seems enough to reassure her as she nods her thanks at him then returns to the food on her plate. He releases a low sigh and eats a bite of chicken, slowly chewing it as Danny sings a line from “Endless Love” and Anoop tries to drown him out with a playful rendition of “Beat It” that, although Adam certainly likes Anoop as a person and he certainly did like “True Colors”, has him inwardly cringing. Although his head is down and he believes that the others seem to think his entire psyche is focused on the meal in front of him, it doesn’t take him long to realize that there is a pair of eyes resting on him. He knows whose they are, of course, because there is no mistaking the strength with which Kris is looking at him with, and he knows that should he look up, the said pair of eyes would blink rapidly and turn away, so he knows to keep his head down until Kris tears his gaze away. It isn’t a long wait; Kris’ eyes are off of him almost immediately, and where Adam knows relief should wash over him, it is only disappointment.
Adam bites his lip, then decides to hurriedly finish the last of his chicken. He drinks his orange juice and doesn’t leave a single drop, and, standing up and purposefully avoiding any form of eye contact with any of the six sitting down, he politely excuses himself with a small tilt of his head. He walks to the kitchen, washes his plate, glass, and fork, dries them, and puts them away before exiting the dining room amidst protests of “Oh-hey, what? Adam, hey wait!” and “A-wha-hey, Adam! Adam, where’re you going, man?”
His feet take him to the room he shares with Kris, and they eventually lead him to his bed, where he promptly collapses. He buries his face in the comforter and lets out a frustrated grunt before shifting positions, sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, face buried in his palms. Where the aftermath of their “seven minutes in heaven” had been remedied with the aid of Megan and strawberries, he doesn’t see such simple methods to smooth out what’s happened between them. Once - once he’s sure Katy will forgive, Katy has forgiven; twice, though, twice and both times consensual - he’s not so sure. He’s acknowledged his want for the other singer, not because it tops his list of priorities, but because to lie to himself and deny it would only further complicate things. He knows he wants Kris, but he doesn’t know if it’s strong enough that he’s willing to jeopardize a fledgling marriage that still has the opportunity to work because he’s not that kind of person, and-
“Not very nice of you to run off on us like that, Lambert.” And from anywhere in the world, no matter the distance, even with eyes closed, Adam would have recognized the timbre of Matt’s voice in an instant. “Alli’s worried like crazy.”
Adam raises his head and locks gazes with the other singer, but not before he frowns as he sees Kris’ silhouette pacing up and down the hallway. “I don’t remember doing any form of running off, Giraud; elaborate.”
“Oh, bullshit,” and Matt proceeds to push himself away from the doorframe, shutting the door and allowing himself to sit next to Adam. Adam tenses up at the sudden explosion of warmth as Matt pats his knee. “I don’t know what it is, but I know that there’s something going on between you and Kris, that this something isn’t sunshine and unicorns, and that it’s getting ridiculous.”
Adam falls back on his automatic response. “We’re all right, Matt, don’t stress yourself out over it.”
Matt simply laughs at him, pulling his hand back and resting it limply on his thigh. “You realize that that’s kind of hard to do when you won’t even talk to each other?”
“We talk,” he answers, but conviction fails to support him. “We talk.”
The other singer raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “Yeah. Because nodding your head in agreement or shaking it in disagreement is talking.”
Adam scoffs, “Maybe not to you it isn’t.”
Silence takes over the room for a moment before the two singers burst into laughter, Adam shaking his head and reveling in the foolishness of his elementary response. Matt fakes wiping tears away from the corners of his eyes, and Adam playfully shoves him away.
“Yeah,” Matt says again. “To me, it isn’t. And personally,” and Adam is nervous about the way Matt’s voice has steeled, about the way his expression has hardened, “I’ve had enough of it. You keep this up and eventually even Alli’s gonna come around and knock sense into your heads.” Adam’s ready with a response before he gets cut off with, “I think what Megan did was a mistake. Locking you both up here to fix your problems only made them worse.”
And of course it did, Adam thinks, because that time, everything had come down to desperation for a resolution, had come down to him and Kris in between the sheets, had come down to him nipping at Kris’ skin and Kris’ nails raking down his back, had come down to Kris calling Katy the very next night, had all led to the mess that was this. He turns his head away from Matt to gather himself and is ready with a response, but Matt is already standing up and making his way toward the door.
“But you never know. I know the traditional saying goes ‘third time’s the charm,’ but can we make this a special case and make it the second time? Because I don’t think I’d be able to handle it, and I won’t be able to haul Megan’s ass back here to help me deal with it.”
Adam stands up, hand outstretched and Matt’s name halfway out of his mouth, but Matt’s already gone and it’s Kris with his eyes cast to the side at the doorway, it’s Kris nervously wringing his hands at the doorway, it’s Kris who finally looks up to meet Adam’s eyes and says, “Can we talk?”
(But it’s Adam falling apart inside; it’s the moment he’s waited for, it’s the moment he’s dreaded, it’s the moment where no experience in theater or otherwise could have prepared him for.)
II. Russian Roulette is Not the Same Without a Gun | ‘Poker Face’ ; Lady Gaga
Kris finds it very hard to swallow and very hard to breathe. He also finds it very hard to make it past “Can we talk?”-or past the doorway, for that matter. He stabilizes himself by finding support in the doorframe, leaning his shoulder against it, and runs both hands up both arms. His mouth becomes dry, and for a moment, he takes possession of an inability to breathe as Adam’s eyes pierce right into him, as Adam’s eyebrows knit into a frown, as Adam answers in a voice no higher than a whisper, “Sure.”
Kris closes the door but doesn’t walk up to the taller singer; he isn’t ready for that yet - he doesn’t think his heart could take it. His head is throbbing and his heart is pounding, but he manages an “I - don’t want this to happen to us” despite the roaring of his heartbeat in his ears, his hands making a gesture at the gap between them. “This - shouldn’t be happening to us.”
And again, Adam says, “Sure.”
He inhales sharply, holding his breath before his lungs yell at him to release it. He nods slowly, eyes darting around the room, landing on his bed Adam’s bed his suitcase Adam’s suitcase everything but Adam the bathroom the window the carpet, until Adam speaks again, “Civility would be all right.” Kris looks down, confused, before he raises his head and widen his eyes as Adam suggests, “I could move out if it’s becoming much too uncomfortable for you, Kris.” It’s the most Adam has said to him since he’d revealed the fact that he’d told Katy. “Matt’s offered me the other bed, and-”
“No!” He shocks himself with the firmness of his voice. “I - I mean, you know - no. We could - fix this. You know?”
Kris can feel the constriction of his heart as Adam bites his lip and shakes his head. The other singer breaks their eye contact, looking blankly past Kris’ head at the doorway. “You should fix your marriage, Kris.” He thought he’d heard all of Adam’s vulnerability - at least all of the vulnerability Adam was going to share with the world or with him - during “Mad World,” but Kris has been proven wrong in so many ways about so many different things lately that he’s not even close to caring. “I know that Katy loves you so much - and Katy’s an amazing girl, Kris.” He doesn’t know if he’d been hearing things, but it sounded as though Adam’s voice became a few notes higher, became just a little bit shakier. “I don’t want to hurt such a wonderful person; she doesn’t deserve that.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Kris can feel the tears building up, but he shakes his head to clear them away. His chest begins to tighten and his breathing is coming in short gasps. “You think I don’t know that, Adam? You really believe I haven’t thought about that ever since - then? Because I have. Every night. Sometimes, I think - I think it’s just a phase.” His heart breaks as Adam’s eyes widen, but he goes on. “Then I start hating myself because I realize that no, dammit, no, it’s not a phase, it might actually be the real thing-”
“-but that’s the point, Kris!” Adam interjects, and Kris knows he isn’t hearing things. The other man’s voice breaks as he says Kris’ name aloud, and his vision blurs as Adam continues, “No matter how much you or I want it to be the real thing, it can’t!” There is an almost panicked exasperation in his voice. “You and Katy-you’re the real thing. You’re the real thing, and I’m-”
“-will you hear me out?” The way Kris barks it out is so sharp that he flinches as he watches Adam’s eyes widen in surprise. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m confused-hear me out, Adam,” he reinforces as Adam again opens his mouth to speak, and the final command finally closes the other singer’s mouth, “yeah, I’m confused. But I know what I’m doing. I’m not a fifteen-year-old who just wants to experiment. I mean - I mean, okay, I’ve - I’ve always wondered how it was - how it was like, you know, kissing and being with another man, but that isn’t the point.” His hands and knees are shaking, and he has to take a step back to lean himself against the door. “I - it’s not a phase, Adam.” The black band on his left finger gets heavier and heavier with each word. “I know it isn’t. Alice Johnson in the fifth grade was a phase. Diana Silverman in the summer before freshman year of high school was a phase. You aren’t - you’re - it’s - it’s different with you.” He pauses to look at Adam, who is staring at him in wide-eyed, open-mouthed bewilderment. He seems to have realized that Kris has stopped speaking for a moment, and in this short silence, he regains his composure, closing his mouth and blinking repeatedly, then once again focusing his attention on Kris.
Kris takes a deep breath, and plows on. “You - don’t know how hard this is for me.” He frowns, blinks twice, and then shakes his head. “Okay, you might know how hard this is for me. That night when you and Megan were dancing to Rihanna? I couldn’t - help myself.” He coughs, looking away, cheeks stained red, before he looks up again. “When I saw you in dress rehearsal for ‘Ring of Fire’? You drove me insane - you know, in - in more ways than one.” He can’t help but smile as he coaxes a small reaction from Adam, a small twitching of the corner of his lips; they’d - they’d done it that week. “Then you went ‘Tracks of My Tears’ on me and I pretty much died.” He isn’t at all stretching the truth; that had been the week he’d told Katy. That had been the week this situation began to brew. Kris clears his throat as his weekly recap seems to stain Adam’s cheeks red, seems to summon tears to his eyes that he is more than capable of keeping at bay - but not Kris; a tear has already slid down his left cheek. “‘F-Funky Music’ covered it up well enough, though, I think, but I honestly didn’t know where ‘Mad World’ was supposed to take me. You don’t know how long I spent, throwing that song around in my head.”
Adam slowly inhales and exhales, and a cold feeling rushes through Kris. His stomach twists and turns into knots, and his heart seems to have fallen in the said intangibility, and it feels as though his mind isn’t far from following. “I guess that Marvin Gaye song was a little ironic, then, wasn’t it?”
Kris forces a laugh. “Bill Withers made up for it, though.” Adam nods, and Kris goes on, “And so will Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova.”
He has to strain to hear Adam stutter, “You’re - you’re actually going through with it.” His voice has fallen much lower than a whisper, and instead of surprise in his eyes, there is realization dawning. “You’re going to sing it.”
Kris closes his eyes and feels the dam he’s built to keep his emotions at bay fall apart with every second that passes. There is disbelief, there is surprise, there is relief, there is insecurity, there is an unfathomable feeling, something indescribable incomprehensible something much too much for him to handle, and that’s what controls the fingers that descend upon the black band around his finger like a butterfly onto a flower.
(This week’s lyrics have already engraved themselves into his mind-he has a choice; he’s making it known.)
III. I Saw Forever in My Never | ‘My Never’ ; Blue October
There isn’t one second in the brief moments it takes for you to meet in the middle where you aren’t amazed that you’ve decided to remove the weight from your finger. When your body collapses into his arms, when his hands are there to support you, when his is the shoulder you are openly sobbing on, when safety and solace and stability are all you find in him, you aren’t amazed that you’ve come to this conclusion. Forty-nine voices in your head are screaming obscenities, are protesting, but there are fifty-one voices in your heart that egg you on, that whisper soothing nothings that allow you to melt perfectly into him until you’re both just there and holding on to each other.
He’s rubbing circles on your back, even now still trying to comfort you when you can feel the movement in shoulders, can hear the telltale hitch in his breath - because he’s not that great of an actor, not when he’s in front of you, not when he’s vulnerable open exposed not when he’s like this - still trying to comfort you when you know his heart is a long way past ready to burst out of his chest. He’s shushing you gently, because it’s what he always does, and he’s murmuring little trifles in your ear, and then you’re shivering as his warm breath ghosts over your ear.
You pull away from him and chuckle gently when he emits a protesting sound. He’s adorable like that, adorable when he’s vulnerable open exposed when he’s like this, and his yelp at your ruffling his hair pleases you even more. He looks up at you with an unceremonious frown before his lips turn down and he’s pouting at you with his perfected pout and you can’t help but kiss it away. It’s nothing like your other kisses. It’s not too fast or too slow, it’s not too forceful or too weak, but it’s - tentative, maybe, and it’s gentle. It’s slow and sensual and it’s the very reason incoherency cannot keep herself away from you. When you separate and pant for air, you’re looking each other in the eyes and you’re seeing nothing but want and lust and need and you, and it’s enough to make you dizzy.
You hold on to him again, wrapping your arms around him and burying your head in his hair, inhaling the scent of your own shampoo, smelling still some traces of your own soap, and it’s a funny thought, but you’re not going to talk about rapidly emptying shampoo bottles or soap bars that are decreasing at an increased rate. You nuzzle him, feel him sigh against you, then you take a small step back, placing a finger under his chin and tilting his head up so that his eyes are meeting yours (you know he’d have found a way to meet your eyes anyway, no matter what), and he’s smiling at you. It’s small and almost hidden by the tears, but it’s serene and it’s content and that’s enough for you.
It doesn’t surprise you that the look in his eyes is almost overwhelmed. You’re leaps and bounds beyond overwhelmed and it’s only a miracle that’s keeping you sane right now. You’re still trying to keep your breathing under control as you hold his gaze for a moment then two then three and you realize that there is nowhere else you’d rather have your eyes fall on than his. You bury your face into the crook of his neck and inhale his scent, inhale the scents that you’ve simply unconsciously lathered upon yourself these few days, and decide that although they are the same products, the scents smell better on him. “You smell good,” you whisper, and his shoulders move up and down as he laughs.
You back away and look shyly off to the side, can feel your cheeks heating up, but he tilts his head down and pushes yours up until your lips are meeting again, and it’s a vertigo-inducing rush of blood and adrenaline. He’s holding on to your hand as you feel the room spin and you can’t think straight because the kiss is a completely different kiss from what you’ve had before and now you know you can’t get enough and-“You taste good,” he answers back in a voice just as low as he pulls away, and you can’t help but make a low sound of protest. He laughs again and it’s a sound you can live in breathe in drown yourself in can imagine yourself waking up to morning noon and night.
There’s a different sensation that’s weaving its way through your body. It’s wild and out of control and it makes your chest hurt, but it makes your chest hurt in only the most beautiful way. You feel yourself near ready to explode as the extraordinary amount of praise and adoration and admiration you have for him increases, increases, increases by the minute by the second. You let go of him as he wipes the tears away from his eyes, and smile and tilt your head amusedly as he stares at you and says, “I thought you were the kind of guy who had waterproof mascara.”
You shake your head. “Sorry, ran out of it the other day.”
He looks at you skeptically. “I don’t know if you actually ran out or you’re just messing with my head, but either way, I think you’re slipping.”
You snort and ruffle his hair again, pulling your hand back with a smug smile on your face. You raise an eyebrow and grin, “Now I’ve messed with your head.” He crosses his arms and frowns at you and, although he’s trying to appear mad (he’s never been successful at that anyway, he’s just not that kind of guy), it only makes him all the more endearing. “Are you gonna do anything about it?”
He’s finished wiping any remnants of his tears by now, and in a moment of absolutely comedic perfection, as he reaches out and grabs your hand and pulls on it to bring your heads closer together, he pulls too hard and your bodies are toppling over; you barely have enough time to twist your bodies so that he ends up falling on you as you fall on the carpet. You grunt as the whole of his weight knocks the air out of you, but it quickly metamorphoses into a guffaw as he clumsily attempts to apologize, cheeks flushed much redder than Alli’s hair.
He stops talking the moment you raise yourself up on your forearms, pushing up so that your foreheads are touching. “Stop that,” you murmur, and he looks at you, eyes bright and wide. You smile, content, and press your lips to his a third time.
(The dictionary meaning of “perfection” just doesn’t quite cut it.)
Title: Three Kisses
Author: ilytheira
Pairing: Kradam (Kris Allen/Adam Lambert)
Rating: PG13
Summary: Forty-nine voices in your head are screaming obscenities, are protesting, but there are fifty-one voices in your heart that egg you on, that whisper soothing nothings that allow you to melt perfectly into him until you’re both just there and holding on to each other.
Notes: Same deal as the other installments, bbs; I recommend reading the previous one-Two Catalysts-before reading this one. As with Catalysts, Kisses is split only into three parts, and its three sections are written in order. Also, take note that Entanglement is not a part of this series.
Disclaimer: Neither Kris nor Adam, nor any of the people featured, or any of the songs below, belong to me.
Where the last one was Kris-centric, this little piece offers alternating points of view. I apologize for the delay-it’s been AP testing these past two weeks, and aside from that, I’ve been swamped with projects, more tests, and homework. So fun. LOL.
I usually spot all of my mistakes a day or two after posting, so if you see any mistakes, I apologize; please don’t hesitate to point them out to me.
Missed the previous part? Check out Two Catalysts! :)
I. If God’s Gravity Should Decide to Forsake Us | ‘turn Your World Around’ ; Ashley Chambliss
There are only seven of them left after Scott’s departure, but lunch is still as noisy as it had been when they still had Jorge and Jasmine among them. Danny has taken his usual seat at the head of the table, plate full of another healthy serving of Lil’s macaroni and cheese, and to his left, Allison calls him out on it and simply laughs. Anoop is shaking his head at him from across Allison, and Matt, who is seated next to him, reaches for the bowl as Danny passes it down. Lil is looking quite proud of herself as Matt passes the bowl across the table to her, and she gives herself a scoop before sliding the bowl over to Kris. Adam keeps his eyes trained on the chicken on his plate, barely registering Matt asking him about Don Juan DeMarco and if his choice this week is a good one. He nods and says, “Your voice would be good for it,” because it’s what he believes Matt wants to hear. It’s obviously not, though, because Matt sighs exasperatedly and shakes his head, but Adam doesn’t want to rise up to confrontation, and he’s glad that Matt turns away and simply lets the subject drop.
“Adam?” His eyes flicker up as Kris says his name quietly, and in acknowledgement of the other man’s smile, he tilts his head and nods. “Mac and cheese?”
Kris presents the bowl to him, and he looks at the half-empty bowl with a raised eyebrow. He shakes his head and makes sure to look down to avoid Kris’ crestfallen look, but looks up again to squarely meet his eyes as Matt reaches past him for the bowl and proceeds to pass it back to Allison. Adam watches as Kris swallows nervously, guitar-calloused fingers around the fork in his hand tightening and mouth open and poised and ready to ask a question that he’s sure has already been formed but just can’t be vocalized what’s happening to us? What’s going on? You know that I didn’t want this to happen to us, right? C’mon, won’t you talk to me already?, and it’s almost an official staring contest before Matt nudges him and says, “Dude, are you awake? Alli’s called you three times now.”
Adam calmly exhales and forces himself to break eye contact with Kris to turn to the redheaded teenager and smile apologetically at her. “I’m sorry, doll,” he says, but his voice comes out higher than he’d intended and he frowns at himself for letting Kris affect him in such a way. He clears his throat, and ignores Kris looking away, disregards Matt’s hand on his shoulder. “What’s up?”
“Don’t - don’t you think they’re going to call me out on singing a song David did last year?” she asks, playing with the macaroni and cheese on her plate; Adam can almost see the words don’t play with your food form in Lil’s mind. “I mean, people are definitely gonna compare it to what he did last year, and-”
Adam shakes his head. “People are always going to be comparing, doll,” he says soothingly, and if he could reach over and hold her hand without being impolite to Matt, then he certainly would have done so. “If you don’t want to do the song, then go with your gut - but if you want my honest opinion, I think it’d sound good with your voice.”
The last bit seems enough to reassure her as she nods her thanks at him then returns to the food on her plate. He releases a low sigh and eats a bite of chicken, slowly chewing it as Danny sings a line from “Endless Love” and Anoop tries to drown him out with a playful rendition of “Beat It” that, although Adam certainly likes Anoop as a person and he certainly did like “True Colors”, has him inwardly cringing. Although his head is down and he believes that the others seem to think his entire psyche is focused on the meal in front of him, it doesn’t take him long to realize that there is a pair of eyes resting on him. He knows whose they are, of course, because there is no mistaking the strength with which Kris is looking at him with, and he knows that should he look up, the said pair of eyes would blink rapidly and turn away, so he knows to keep his head down until Kris tears his gaze away. It isn’t a long wait; Kris’ eyes are off of him almost immediately, and where Adam knows relief should wash over him, it is only disappointment.
Adam bites his lip, then decides to hurriedly finish the last of his chicken. He drinks his orange juice and doesn’t leave a single drop, and, standing up and purposefully avoiding any form of eye contact with any of the six sitting down, he politely excuses himself with a small tilt of his head. He walks to the kitchen, washes his plate, glass, and fork, dries them, and puts them away before exiting the dining room amidst protests of “Oh-hey, what? Adam, hey wait!” and “A-wha-hey, Adam! Adam, where’re you going, man?”
His feet take him to the room he shares with Kris, and they eventually lead him to his bed, where he promptly collapses. He buries his face in the comforter and lets out a frustrated grunt before shifting positions, sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, face buried in his palms. Where the aftermath of their “seven minutes in heaven” had been remedied with the aid of Megan and strawberries, he doesn’t see such simple methods to smooth out what’s happened between them. Once - once he’s sure Katy will forgive, Katy has forgiven; twice, though, twice and both times consensual - he’s not so sure. He’s acknowledged his want for the other singer, not because it tops his list of priorities, but because to lie to himself and deny it would only further complicate things. He knows he wants Kris, but he doesn’t know if it’s strong enough that he’s willing to jeopardize a fledgling marriage that still has the opportunity to work because he’s not that kind of person, and-
“Not very nice of you to run off on us like that, Lambert.” And from anywhere in the world, no matter the distance, even with eyes closed, Adam would have recognized the timbre of Matt’s voice in an instant. “Alli’s worried like crazy.”
Adam raises his head and locks gazes with the other singer, but not before he frowns as he sees Kris’ silhouette pacing up and down the hallway. “I don’t remember doing any form of running off, Giraud; elaborate.”
“Oh, bullshit,” and Matt proceeds to push himself away from the doorframe, shutting the door and allowing himself to sit next to Adam. Adam tenses up at the sudden explosion of warmth as Matt pats his knee. “I don’t know what it is, but I know that there’s something going on between you and Kris, that this something isn’t sunshine and unicorns, and that it’s getting ridiculous.”
Adam falls back on his automatic response. “We’re all right, Matt, don’t stress yourself out over it.”
Matt simply laughs at him, pulling his hand back and resting it limply on his thigh. “You realize that that’s kind of hard to do when you won’t even talk to each other?”
“We talk,” he answers, but conviction fails to support him. “We talk.”
The other singer raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “Yeah. Because nodding your head in agreement or shaking it in disagreement is talking.”
Adam scoffs, “Maybe not to you it isn’t.”
Silence takes over the room for a moment before the two singers burst into laughter, Adam shaking his head and reveling in the foolishness of his elementary response. Matt fakes wiping tears away from the corners of his eyes, and Adam playfully shoves him away.
“Yeah,” Matt says again. “To me, it isn’t. And personally,” and Adam is nervous about the way Matt’s voice has steeled, about the way his expression has hardened, “I’ve had enough of it. You keep this up and eventually even Alli’s gonna come around and knock sense into your heads.” Adam’s ready with a response before he gets cut off with, “I think what Megan did was a mistake. Locking you both up here to fix your problems only made them worse.”
And of course it did, Adam thinks, because that time, everything had come down to desperation for a resolution, had come down to him and Kris in between the sheets, had come down to him nipping at Kris’ skin and Kris’ nails raking down his back, had come down to Kris calling Katy the very next night, had all led to the mess that was this. He turns his head away from Matt to gather himself and is ready with a response, but Matt is already standing up and making his way toward the door.
“But you never know. I know the traditional saying goes ‘third time’s the charm,’ but can we make this a special case and make it the second time? Because I don’t think I’d be able to handle it, and I won’t be able to haul Megan’s ass back here to help me deal with it.”
Adam stands up, hand outstretched and Matt’s name halfway out of his mouth, but Matt’s already gone and it’s Kris with his eyes cast to the side at the doorway, it’s Kris nervously wringing his hands at the doorway, it’s Kris who finally looks up to meet Adam’s eyes and says, “Can we talk?”
(But it’s Adam falling apart inside; it’s the moment he’s waited for, it’s the moment he’s dreaded, it’s the moment where no experience in theater or otherwise could have prepared him for.)
II. Russian Roulette is Not the Same Without a Gun | ‘Poker Face’ ; Lady Gaga
Kris finds it very hard to swallow and very hard to breathe. He also finds it very hard to make it past “Can we talk?”-or past the doorway, for that matter. He stabilizes himself by finding support in the doorframe, leaning his shoulder against it, and runs both hands up both arms. His mouth becomes dry, and for a moment, he takes possession of an inability to breathe as Adam’s eyes pierce right into him, as Adam’s eyebrows knit into a frown, as Adam answers in a voice no higher than a whisper, “Sure.”
Kris closes the door but doesn’t walk up to the taller singer; he isn’t ready for that yet - he doesn’t think his heart could take it. His head is throbbing and his heart is pounding, but he manages an “I - don’t want this to happen to us” despite the roaring of his heartbeat in his ears, his hands making a gesture at the gap between them. “This - shouldn’t be happening to us.”
And again, Adam says, “Sure.”
He inhales sharply, holding his breath before his lungs yell at him to release it. He nods slowly, eyes darting around the room, landing on his bed Adam’s bed his suitcase Adam’s suitcase everything but Adam the bathroom the window the carpet, until Adam speaks again, “Civility would be all right.” Kris looks down, confused, before he raises his head and widen his eyes as Adam suggests, “I could move out if it’s becoming much too uncomfortable for you, Kris.” It’s the most Adam has said to him since he’d revealed the fact that he’d told Katy. “Matt’s offered me the other bed, and-”
“No!” He shocks himself with the firmness of his voice. “I - I mean, you know - no. We could - fix this. You know?”
Kris can feel the constriction of his heart as Adam bites his lip and shakes his head. The other singer breaks their eye contact, looking blankly past Kris’ head at the doorway. “You should fix your marriage, Kris.” He thought he’d heard all of Adam’s vulnerability - at least all of the vulnerability Adam was going to share with the world or with him - during “Mad World,” but Kris has been proven wrong in so many ways about so many different things lately that he’s not even close to caring. “I know that Katy loves you so much - and Katy’s an amazing girl, Kris.” He doesn’t know if he’d been hearing things, but it sounded as though Adam’s voice became a few notes higher, became just a little bit shakier. “I don’t want to hurt such a wonderful person; she doesn’t deserve that.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Kris can feel the tears building up, but he shakes his head to clear them away. His chest begins to tighten and his breathing is coming in short gasps. “You think I don’t know that, Adam? You really believe I haven’t thought about that ever since - then? Because I have. Every night. Sometimes, I think - I think it’s just a phase.” His heart breaks as Adam’s eyes widen, but he goes on. “Then I start hating myself because I realize that no, dammit, no, it’s not a phase, it might actually be the real thing-”
“-but that’s the point, Kris!” Adam interjects, and Kris knows he isn’t hearing things. The other man’s voice breaks as he says Kris’ name aloud, and his vision blurs as Adam continues, “No matter how much you or I want it to be the real thing, it can’t!” There is an almost panicked exasperation in his voice. “You and Katy-you’re the real thing. You’re the real thing, and I’m-”
“-will you hear me out?” The way Kris barks it out is so sharp that he flinches as he watches Adam’s eyes widen in surprise. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m confused-hear me out, Adam,” he reinforces as Adam again opens his mouth to speak, and the final command finally closes the other singer’s mouth, “yeah, I’m confused. But I know what I’m doing. I’m not a fifteen-year-old who just wants to experiment. I mean - I mean, okay, I’ve - I’ve always wondered how it was - how it was like, you know, kissing and being with another man, but that isn’t the point.” His hands and knees are shaking, and he has to take a step back to lean himself against the door. “I - it’s not a phase, Adam.” The black band on his left finger gets heavier and heavier with each word. “I know it isn’t. Alice Johnson in the fifth grade was a phase. Diana Silverman in the summer before freshman year of high school was a phase. You aren’t - you’re - it’s - it’s different with you.” He pauses to look at Adam, who is staring at him in wide-eyed, open-mouthed bewilderment. He seems to have realized that Kris has stopped speaking for a moment, and in this short silence, he regains his composure, closing his mouth and blinking repeatedly, then once again focusing his attention on Kris.
Kris takes a deep breath, and plows on. “You - don’t know how hard this is for me.” He frowns, blinks twice, and then shakes his head. “Okay, you might know how hard this is for me. That night when you and Megan were dancing to Rihanna? I couldn’t - help myself.” He coughs, looking away, cheeks stained red, before he looks up again. “When I saw you in dress rehearsal for ‘Ring of Fire’? You drove me insane - you know, in - in more ways than one.” He can’t help but smile as he coaxes a small reaction from Adam, a small twitching of the corner of his lips; they’d - they’d done it that week. “Then you went ‘Tracks of My Tears’ on me and I pretty much died.” He isn’t at all stretching the truth; that had been the week he’d told Katy. That had been the week this situation began to brew. Kris clears his throat as his weekly recap seems to stain Adam’s cheeks red, seems to summon tears to his eyes that he is more than capable of keeping at bay - but not Kris; a tear has already slid down his left cheek. “‘F-Funky Music’ covered it up well enough, though, I think, but I honestly didn’t know where ‘Mad World’ was supposed to take me. You don’t know how long I spent, throwing that song around in my head.”
Adam slowly inhales and exhales, and a cold feeling rushes through Kris. His stomach twists and turns into knots, and his heart seems to have fallen in the said intangibility, and it feels as though his mind isn’t far from following. “I guess that Marvin Gaye song was a little ironic, then, wasn’t it?”
Kris forces a laugh. “Bill Withers made up for it, though.” Adam nods, and Kris goes on, “And so will Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova.”
He has to strain to hear Adam stutter, “You’re - you’re actually going through with it.” His voice has fallen much lower than a whisper, and instead of surprise in his eyes, there is realization dawning. “You’re going to sing it.”
Kris closes his eyes and feels the dam he’s built to keep his emotions at bay fall apart with every second that passes. There is disbelief, there is surprise, there is relief, there is insecurity, there is an unfathomable feeling, something indescribable incomprehensible something much too much for him to handle, and that’s what controls the fingers that descend upon the black band around his finger like a butterfly onto a flower.
(This week’s lyrics have already engraved themselves into his mind-he has a choice; he’s making it known.)
III. I Saw Forever in My Never | ‘My Never’ ; Blue October
There isn’t one second in the brief moments it takes for you to meet in the middle where you aren’t amazed that you’ve decided to remove the weight from your finger. When your body collapses into his arms, when his hands are there to support you, when his is the shoulder you are openly sobbing on, when safety and solace and stability are all you find in him, you aren’t amazed that you’ve come to this conclusion. Forty-nine voices in your head are screaming obscenities, are protesting, but there are fifty-one voices in your heart that egg you on, that whisper soothing nothings that allow you to melt perfectly into him until you’re both just there and holding on to each other.
He’s rubbing circles on your back, even now still trying to comfort you when you can feel the movement in shoulders, can hear the telltale hitch in his breath - because he’s not that great of an actor, not when he’s in front of you, not when he’s vulnerable open exposed not when he’s like this - still trying to comfort you when you know his heart is a long way past ready to burst out of his chest. He’s shushing you gently, because it’s what he always does, and he’s murmuring little trifles in your ear, and then you’re shivering as his warm breath ghosts over your ear.
You pull away from him and chuckle gently when he emits a protesting sound. He’s adorable like that, adorable when he’s vulnerable open exposed when he’s like this, and his yelp at your ruffling his hair pleases you even more. He looks up at you with an unceremonious frown before his lips turn down and he’s pouting at you with his perfected pout and you can’t help but kiss it away. It’s nothing like your other kisses. It’s not too fast or too slow, it’s not too forceful or too weak, but it’s - tentative, maybe, and it’s gentle. It’s slow and sensual and it’s the very reason incoherency cannot keep herself away from you. When you separate and pant for air, you’re looking each other in the eyes and you’re seeing nothing but want and lust and need and you, and it’s enough to make you dizzy.
You hold on to him again, wrapping your arms around him and burying your head in his hair, inhaling the scent of your own shampoo, smelling still some traces of your own soap, and it’s a funny thought, but you’re not going to talk about rapidly emptying shampoo bottles or soap bars that are decreasing at an increased rate. You nuzzle him, feel him sigh against you, then you take a small step back, placing a finger under his chin and tilting his head up so that his eyes are meeting yours (you know he’d have found a way to meet your eyes anyway, no matter what), and he’s smiling at you. It’s small and almost hidden by the tears, but it’s serene and it’s content and that’s enough for you.
It doesn’t surprise you that the look in his eyes is almost overwhelmed. You’re leaps and bounds beyond overwhelmed and it’s only a miracle that’s keeping you sane right now. You’re still trying to keep your breathing under control as you hold his gaze for a moment then two then three and you realize that there is nowhere else you’d rather have your eyes fall on than his. You bury your face into the crook of his neck and inhale his scent, inhale the scents that you’ve simply unconsciously lathered upon yourself these few days, and decide that although they are the same products, the scents smell better on him. “You smell good,” you whisper, and his shoulders move up and down as he laughs.
You back away and look shyly off to the side, can feel your cheeks heating up, but he tilts his head down and pushes yours up until your lips are meeting again, and it’s a vertigo-inducing rush of blood and adrenaline. He’s holding on to your hand as you feel the room spin and you can’t think straight because the kiss is a completely different kiss from what you’ve had before and now you know you can’t get enough and-“You taste good,” he answers back in a voice just as low as he pulls away, and you can’t help but make a low sound of protest. He laughs again and it’s a sound you can live in breathe in drown yourself in can imagine yourself waking up to morning noon and night.
There’s a different sensation that’s weaving its way through your body. It’s wild and out of control and it makes your chest hurt, but it makes your chest hurt in only the most beautiful way. You feel yourself near ready to explode as the extraordinary amount of praise and adoration and admiration you have for him increases, increases, increases by the minute by the second. You let go of him as he wipes the tears away from his eyes, and smile and tilt your head amusedly as he stares at you and says, “I thought you were the kind of guy who had waterproof mascara.”
You shake your head. “Sorry, ran out of it the other day.”
He looks at you skeptically. “I don’t know if you actually ran out or you’re just messing with my head, but either way, I think you’re slipping.”
You snort and ruffle his hair again, pulling your hand back with a smug smile on your face. You raise an eyebrow and grin, “Now I’ve messed with your head.” He crosses his arms and frowns at you and, although he’s trying to appear mad (he’s never been successful at that anyway, he’s just not that kind of guy), it only makes him all the more endearing. “Are you gonna do anything about it?”
He’s finished wiping any remnants of his tears by now, and in a moment of absolutely comedic perfection, as he reaches out and grabs your hand and pulls on it to bring your heads closer together, he pulls too hard and your bodies are toppling over; you barely have enough time to twist your bodies so that he ends up falling on you as you fall on the carpet. You grunt as the whole of his weight knocks the air out of you, but it quickly metamorphoses into a guffaw as he clumsily attempts to apologize, cheeks flushed much redder than Alli’s hair.
He stops talking the moment you raise yourself up on your forearms, pushing up so that your foreheads are touching. “Stop that,” you murmur, and he looks at you, eyes bright and wide. You smile, content, and press your lips to his a third time.
(The dictionary meaning of “perfection” just doesn’t quite cut it.)