[Fic] Hot Pockets -- Be My Lady: Part 1, PG-13
Title: Be My Lady: Part 1
Fandom: American Idol
Characters: Kris Allen and Katy O'Connell, mentions of Charles Browder
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,335
Summary: While on a mission trip in Thailand, Kris has a realization that leads to tears and a phone call.
Support Group: yuppielawyer, joannacullen, apriljoiex
Notes: Follow-up to Wipe It Away. Inspired the song of the same title by Kris Allen of his indie album Brand New Shoes.
Be My Lady: Part 1
Thailand is world away from Conway, Arkansas -- in both culture and climate. There's a perpetual mugginess to the air that weighs down like a smothering blanket and makes day-to-day life more encumbering. The cracked surface of the concrete walkway beneath Kris is hot to the touch. The wall at his back is slightly cooler. It would be a comfortable spot to take a rest, if it weren't for his racing thoughts.
Kris is weeping. He isn't hysterical and he isn't just sniffling, but he is crying, and he is in pain.
Tears roll from his eyes, which are squeezed shut, to slide down his cheeks and drip onto his shirt or gather on his sweaty neck. His breathing is shallow and sporadically, gasping. The aching palpitations of his heart are echoing from his head, to his chest, to the knotting in his stomach. His whispers are barely audible -- it's a prayer to ask God for guidance and courage. He presses a hand to his temple, his fingers clawing into the scalp beneath his buzzed-cut hair, as he tries to hide his flushed face from passersby. He doesn't want them to see or hear him breaking down.
Kris is scared. He's just made one of the easiest (but ultimately, one of the most troubling) decisions of his life. It's a gesture he's told was "so beautiful, the Lord has seen it and smiled." His friend Charles, in-turn, has pointedly remarked, "It's completely and utterly insane, but very Kris-ish in nature." The latter description makes him smile, and it hurts.
Reluctantly, Kris glances up to the pay phone above his head. He knows he needs to make a call -- two calls, actually -- and neither will be easy. He's terrified of what the respective outcomes will be, but he knows it's ridiculous to be scared of a phone call. He also dreads that one will be too late.
Rubbing his calloused palms over his wet and puffy eyes, Kris sniffs and coughs until he's relaxed enough to stand. Using the wall for support, he hauls himself to his feet. He glances around to make sure no one else is in need of the phone. Undeterred, he pulls a phone card out of his pocket and removes the receiver from the phone box. He rests the warm handset on his shoulder and blinks through his bleary vision. The back of the AT&T card comes into better focus. Heaving a sigh, he starts dialing numbers -- first, the phone company, then the card number, then the country code, and finally, the cell phone number that he's known by heart since he was sixteen.
There are clicks and dial-tone changes on the other end of the line. Kris puffs a sigh, and he rests his free arm on top of the phone box. He rolls his lips together in anticipation when he hears the first ring -- it's faint and there is some static. He hopes she'll be able to hear him.
The ringing lapses after the third buzz. "Hello?," says a distant, but familiar, sweet tone. Kris tenses, when it dawns on him how badly he's missed the sound of her voice.
"Katy?," he dumbly prompts. He's concerned when she doesn't answer. "Katy, can you hear me?"
Agonizing seconds of static-filled silence pass. His pulse hammers at the back of his ears. Kris wonders if the call was dropped, but fears that she recognizes his voice and doesn't want to speak to him.
His knees feel weak when her hesitant voice says,"...Kris?"
"Yes," he earnestly confirms, "please, don't hang up."
"I have to go to class soon--" she begins in a wary tone.
Kris blinks. "You're in summer school?," he blurts. He wants to kick himself for interrupting her.
"Yeah."
"Oh." He can't keep the disappointment out of his voice, realizing he's being a nuisance. Again.
Kris anxiously sighs. "I'm sorry," he says. "I just -- I just really needed to talk to you."
There's a pause before she hollowly intones, "You said we shouldn't talk."
Kris winces, recalling his words from months before. He remembers the pain and confusion in her eyes as he told her to move on, and the reluctance of her goodbye.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Well, you've got..." her voice trails off, distracted, before she finishes, "seven minutes."
"Okay."
Kris tried to plan out what to say to her, but now, he is dizzy with remorse.
"Katy, I'm sorry," he confesses, voice shaky as he continues to recall their previous exchange. "I know you're probably sick of hearing that from me, but I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Everything I said -- I was an idiot. I am an idiot." His voice cracks as his tears return, "I'm sorry."
Katy doesn't reply immediately, but when she does, her voice is uneasy. "Are you okay?," she asks.
A fresh sob hiccups from his chest. "No, I'm really not."
Kris is distraught. He wishes that he could simply forget the past and let her go, but he can't. He's desperate to apologize. He feels awful for what he's done to her, and he worries that Katy is still hurting.
"Did something bad happen? Do I need to call someone?" She sounds both baffled and concerned. "What the heck is going on?"
Kris sighs. He's upsetting her. He doesn't want to upset her.
"It's just -- It's just being over here. Seeing all of these people, and what they've gone through, what they're still going through, and what little they have." His voice crackles away from him. The angst within is overwhelming his ability to speak. It's taken him several months -- and seeing the aftermath of a real tragedy -- for him to discern that he's pushed away the one person whom he loves more than anyone else, including his family and God.
"Katy," he continues with weeping sigh. "Katy, oh gosh, they don't even have enough clothes and food for everyone. And when they do, people with guns come and take it away!" The conditions in Thailand are rough, and the impact of the Tsunami is worse than he could have ever imagined.
And Katy, probably, does not need to hear all of this.
"And -- and I'm sorry," Kris says, ashamed. "I'm rambling."
"It's okay, Kris," she says, quiet and firm. "Just, please, calm down."
"I'm sorry," he mutters, again, shaking his head.
Katy is sardonic when she replies, "I figured that much out."
The noise Kris makes is somewhere between a pained chuckle and another sob. Even when she's being passive aggressive, Katy can warm his heart. It makes him feel all-the-more desperate to have her back. He's stronger and more confident when he knows that she will keep him humble.
Kris takes a deep, calming breath. "I know I've got a lot of explaining to do. I know that I said we shouldn't talk. But being over here, it's made me realize a few things."
Katy's quiet on the other end of the line, and it makes Kris nervous.
"It's these people, Katy," Kris rushes to say as he launches into an impassioned explanation. "They don't have much of anything, you know? But they still love each other. They love each other so much. I've never seen so many smiles and happy faces."
He pauses for a breath, which comes out more pained than he expected.
"These kids -- these families they're so happy and honest, and it's killing me." Kris's voice cracks. He's overwhelmed, again. "It's killing me to know that I've already burned the bridge with the person who I care about the most."
"What are you saying, Kris?," Katy asks in a deadpanned tone that he can't read.
"I'm sorry, I keep rambling." Kris finds it difficult to get out the next sentence. "What I'm saying is... I want you to wait for me." His voice is weak, but it picks some gusto in his desperation. "I want you to wait for me, Katy. Can you do that? Is that even possible? Have you already found someone else? I don't want to assume, but I won't be surprised."
"You want me to wait for you," she echoes -- there is, what he thinks is, a hopeful upturn in her voice.
"Yes," Kris says through gritted teeth as fresh tears sting his eyes. "Please, baby," he pleads. "Just please, please, please, wait for me."
"Kris," Katy says slowly, carefully, "you know that doesn't mean I'm just -- I'm just going come running back to you, right?" There's a twinge of pain in her tone, and it cuts him. "It's not that simple."
Kris heaves a sigh and nods. "I know. I know and I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."
"I'm such an idiot, Katy," he admits, which he knows and feels as a truth. "Everything I say, it comes out wrong. I hurt you when I don't want to hurt you, and I'm too stubborn and stupid to realize that what I'm doing is the exact opposite of what I should be doing, and what I'm saying is the exact opposite of what I should be saying. I try to make things right, but I'm too dumb to realize that there's no right or wrong, and I'm just being a selfish jerk."
Wow. It dawns on Kris that he just babbled a serious amount of word vomit.
Katy is silent. Kris swallows the rest of the raving on his tongue, and he considers banging his head against the phone box. Katy likely thinks that he's gone over the deep end or caught the cuckoo virus.
"I just..." Kris's voice trails off in defeat. He sighs. "I was just hoping that I could have the chance to explain myself after everything I've put us through."
Kris is finished. Worried that he said too much, he tightly presses his lips together. A sudden burst of static comes from Katy's end of the call. Kris doesn't know if the noise is her gasping for breath or a result of the weak phone connection.
"I -- I don't think we should do this over the phone," Katy stammers.
"I'm sorry. Do you have to go to class, now? You should go."
"Class can wait, Kris," she firmly replies. "You're too upset to be doing this, right now." She pauses, and there is more static. "Just get home safe and we'll talk then, okay? I -- I'll wait for you, Kris. I'll wait for you."
A knot buoys into the back of his throat. He clamps his mouth shut to hold in a gasp. After all of his babbling, and everything he has done in the past to push her away, she is still willing to wait for him.
"Thank you," Kris says. He feels both relieved and overcome with fatigue. "I can't -- I really can't thank you enough for this."
"I have to -- I need to go, Kris." Her voice is tiny and strained. It hurts his heart.
"I'm sorry. I should've waited--"
"No," she says evenly before taking a deep breath. "You shouldn't have waited, but I -- I need to go. I'll see you soon, okay? Stay safe, Kris." She's talking fast. It sounds like she's getting emotional. Kris jumps to apologize, again, but she quickly adds, "Don't -- don't die."
Kris winches. "Yes, ma'am. No dying," he replies with a small smile on his lips. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I'll come to see you, when I get back."
He's left with nothing but airy static. Kris knows this is the end of the call. There's a click, and the phone line goes dead. Kris slowly and reluctantly hangs up the receiver.
It's done, thank goodness, and he is actually getting another chance to explain himself. Kris is so happy he could cry, and he does. He rests his arms on the phone box -- and his head on his arms -- as he weeps.
Kris is emotionally and spiritually drained. The phone call exhausted him. Pain grips at his heart and body. His mind is numb from shock. He can't believe that she actually agreed to wait for him.
How is he so lucky? After everything he's put them through, Katy is still willing to give him one more shot to explain why he's been such a fool. She is the most amazing woman he's ever known outside of his mama.
A comforting hand lands on Kris's shoulder and gives him a good, firm rub. He doesn't know who it could be, but he appreciates the gesture all the same. Weary, he lifts his tear-stained face and glances sidelong to see... Charles. Kris gives his friend a pained smile.
"That bad, huh?," Charles prompts with a concerned frown. "You know, I never, ever thought that they would actually be mad about the guitar. Were they seriously that mad?," he asks, eyebrows fretting. "Or is there just something in your eye?"
Kris laughs. He's glad to have Charles around to keep him sane.
"No," Kris replies with a shake of his head. "That wasn't my parents."
"Well then, who the heck was it? Is there a hot-line for crazy, selfless people who are crazy?"
The sarcasm makes Kris smile, but it fades quickly. He sighs and wipes at his eyes. "It was Katy."
"Oh."
Charles looks rightfully shocked. Before they left for this mission trip to Thailand, Kris swore off talking about Katy and their past, which hadn't been an active issue until now.
"Man," Charles says with a skeptical tilt of his head, "I don't like to say it, but you are a drama glutton, today."
Kris scoffs. "I know, right?" He drops his forehead to thump against the phone box. "I'm like a frickin' chick flick."
Charles lays a hand to either of Kris's shoulders. Kris wryly smiles when Charles presses flush to his back.
"I'll never let go, Kris," Charles woefully whispers against Kris's ear. "I'll never let go."
Fandom: American Idol
Characters: Kris Allen and Katy O'Connell, mentions of Charles Browder
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,335
Summary: While on a mission trip in Thailand, Kris has a realization that leads to tears and a phone call.
Support Group: yuppielawyer, joannacullen, apriljoiex
Notes: Follow-up to Wipe It Away. Inspired the song of the same title by Kris Allen of his indie album Brand New Shoes.
Be My Lady: Part 1
Thailand is world away from Conway, Arkansas -- in both culture and climate. There's a perpetual mugginess to the air that weighs down like a smothering blanket and makes day-to-day life more encumbering. The cracked surface of the concrete walkway beneath Kris is hot to the touch. The wall at his back is slightly cooler. It would be a comfortable spot to take a rest, if it weren't for his racing thoughts.
Kris is weeping. He isn't hysterical and he isn't just sniffling, but he is crying, and he is in pain.
Tears roll from his eyes, which are squeezed shut, to slide down his cheeks and drip onto his shirt or gather on his sweaty neck. His breathing is shallow and sporadically, gasping. The aching palpitations of his heart are echoing from his head, to his chest, to the knotting in his stomach. His whispers are barely audible -- it's a prayer to ask God for guidance and courage. He presses a hand to his temple, his fingers clawing into the scalp beneath his buzzed-cut hair, as he tries to hide his flushed face from passersby. He doesn't want them to see or hear him breaking down.
Kris is scared. He's just made one of the easiest (but ultimately, one of the most troubling) decisions of his life. It's a gesture he's told was "so beautiful, the Lord has seen it and smiled." His friend Charles, in-turn, has pointedly remarked, "It's completely and utterly insane, but very Kris-ish in nature." The latter description makes him smile, and it hurts.
Reluctantly, Kris glances up to the pay phone above his head. He knows he needs to make a call -- two calls, actually -- and neither will be easy. He's terrified of what the respective outcomes will be, but he knows it's ridiculous to be scared of a phone call. He also dreads that one will be too late.
Rubbing his calloused palms over his wet and puffy eyes, Kris sniffs and coughs until he's relaxed enough to stand. Using the wall for support, he hauls himself to his feet. He glances around to make sure no one else is in need of the phone. Undeterred, he pulls a phone card out of his pocket and removes the receiver from the phone box. He rests the warm handset on his shoulder and blinks through his bleary vision. The back of the AT&T card comes into better focus. Heaving a sigh, he starts dialing numbers -- first, the phone company, then the card number, then the country code, and finally, the cell phone number that he's known by heart since he was sixteen.
There are clicks and dial-tone changes on the other end of the line. Kris puffs a sigh, and he rests his free arm on top of the phone box. He rolls his lips together in anticipation when he hears the first ring -- it's faint and there is some static. He hopes she'll be able to hear him.
The ringing lapses after the third buzz. "Hello?," says a distant, but familiar, sweet tone. Kris tenses, when it dawns on him how badly he's missed the sound of her voice.
"Katy?," he dumbly prompts. He's concerned when she doesn't answer. "Katy, can you hear me?"
Agonizing seconds of static-filled silence pass. His pulse hammers at the back of his ears. Kris wonders if the call was dropped, but fears that she recognizes his voice and doesn't want to speak to him.
His knees feel weak when her hesitant voice says,"...Kris?"
"Yes," he earnestly confirms, "please, don't hang up."
"I have to go to class soon--" she begins in a wary tone.
Kris blinks. "You're in summer school?," he blurts. He wants to kick himself for interrupting her.
"Yeah."
"Oh." He can't keep the disappointment out of his voice, realizing he's being a nuisance. Again.
Kris anxiously sighs. "I'm sorry," he says. "I just -- I just really needed to talk to you."
There's a pause before she hollowly intones, "You said we shouldn't talk."
Kris winces, recalling his words from months before. He remembers the pain and confusion in her eyes as he told her to move on, and the reluctance of her goodbye.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Well, you've got..." her voice trails off, distracted, before she finishes, "seven minutes."
"Okay."
Kris tried to plan out what to say to her, but now, he is dizzy with remorse.
"Katy, I'm sorry," he confesses, voice shaky as he continues to recall their previous exchange. "I know you're probably sick of hearing that from me, but I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Everything I said -- I was an idiot. I am an idiot." His voice cracks as his tears return, "I'm sorry."
Katy doesn't reply immediately, but when she does, her voice is uneasy. "Are you okay?," she asks.
A fresh sob hiccups from his chest. "No, I'm really not."
Kris is distraught. He wishes that he could simply forget the past and let her go, but he can't. He's desperate to apologize. He feels awful for what he's done to her, and he worries that Katy is still hurting.
"Did something bad happen? Do I need to call someone?" She sounds both baffled and concerned. "What the heck is going on?"
Kris sighs. He's upsetting her. He doesn't want to upset her.
"It's just -- It's just being over here. Seeing all of these people, and what they've gone through, what they're still going through, and what little they have." His voice crackles away from him. The angst within is overwhelming his ability to speak. It's taken him several months -- and seeing the aftermath of a real tragedy -- for him to discern that he's pushed away the one person whom he loves more than anyone else, including his family and God.
"Katy," he continues with weeping sigh. "Katy, oh gosh, they don't even have enough clothes and food for everyone. And when they do, people with guns come and take it away!" The conditions in Thailand are rough, and the impact of the Tsunami is worse than he could have ever imagined.
And Katy, probably, does not need to hear all of this.
"And -- and I'm sorry," Kris says, ashamed. "I'm rambling."
"It's okay, Kris," she says, quiet and firm. "Just, please, calm down."
"I'm sorry," he mutters, again, shaking his head.
Katy is sardonic when she replies, "I figured that much out."
The noise Kris makes is somewhere between a pained chuckle and another sob. Even when she's being passive aggressive, Katy can warm his heart. It makes him feel all-the-more desperate to have her back. He's stronger and more confident when he knows that she will keep him humble.
Kris takes a deep, calming breath. "I know I've got a lot of explaining to do. I know that I said we shouldn't talk. But being over here, it's made me realize a few things."
Katy's quiet on the other end of the line, and it makes Kris nervous.
"It's these people, Katy," Kris rushes to say as he launches into an impassioned explanation. "They don't have much of anything, you know? But they still love each other. They love each other so much. I've never seen so many smiles and happy faces."
He pauses for a breath, which comes out more pained than he expected.
"These kids -- these families they're so happy and honest, and it's killing me." Kris's voice cracks. He's overwhelmed, again. "It's killing me to know that I've already burned the bridge with the person who I care about the most."
"What are you saying, Kris?," Katy asks in a deadpanned tone that he can't read.
"I'm sorry, I keep rambling." Kris finds it difficult to get out the next sentence. "What I'm saying is... I want you to wait for me." His voice is weak, but it picks some gusto in his desperation. "I want you to wait for me, Katy. Can you do that? Is that even possible? Have you already found someone else? I don't want to assume, but I won't be surprised."
"You want me to wait for you," she echoes -- there is, what he thinks is, a hopeful upturn in her voice.
"Yes," Kris says through gritted teeth as fresh tears sting his eyes. "Please, baby," he pleads. "Just please, please, please, wait for me."
"Kris," Katy says slowly, carefully, "you know that doesn't mean I'm just -- I'm just going come running back to you, right?" There's a twinge of pain in her tone, and it cuts him. "It's not that simple."
Kris heaves a sigh and nods. "I know. I know and I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."
"I'm such an idiot, Katy," he admits, which he knows and feels as a truth. "Everything I say, it comes out wrong. I hurt you when I don't want to hurt you, and I'm too stubborn and stupid to realize that what I'm doing is the exact opposite of what I should be doing, and what I'm saying is the exact opposite of what I should be saying. I try to make things right, but I'm too dumb to realize that there's no right or wrong, and I'm just being a selfish jerk."
Wow. It dawns on Kris that he just babbled a serious amount of word vomit.
Katy is silent. Kris swallows the rest of the raving on his tongue, and he considers banging his head against the phone box. Katy likely thinks that he's gone over the deep end or caught the cuckoo virus.
"I just..." Kris's voice trails off in defeat. He sighs. "I was just hoping that I could have the chance to explain myself after everything I've put us through."
Kris is finished. Worried that he said too much, he tightly presses his lips together. A sudden burst of static comes from Katy's end of the call. Kris doesn't know if the noise is her gasping for breath or a result of the weak phone connection.
"I -- I don't think we should do this over the phone," Katy stammers.
"I'm sorry. Do you have to go to class, now? You should go."
"Class can wait, Kris," she firmly replies. "You're too upset to be doing this, right now." She pauses, and there is more static. "Just get home safe and we'll talk then, okay? I -- I'll wait for you, Kris. I'll wait for you."
A knot buoys into the back of his throat. He clamps his mouth shut to hold in a gasp. After all of his babbling, and everything he has done in the past to push her away, she is still willing to wait for him.
"Thank you," Kris says. He feels both relieved and overcome with fatigue. "I can't -- I really can't thank you enough for this."
"I have to -- I need to go, Kris." Her voice is tiny and strained. It hurts his heart.
"I'm sorry. I should've waited--"
"No," she says evenly before taking a deep breath. "You shouldn't have waited, but I -- I need to go. I'll see you soon, okay? Stay safe, Kris." She's talking fast. It sounds like she's getting emotional. Kris jumps to apologize, again, but she quickly adds, "Don't -- don't die."
Kris winches. "Yes, ma'am. No dying," he replies with a small smile on his lips. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I'll come to see you, when I get back."
He's left with nothing but airy static. Kris knows this is the end of the call. There's a click, and the phone line goes dead. Kris slowly and reluctantly hangs up the receiver.
It's done, thank goodness, and he is actually getting another chance to explain himself. Kris is so happy he could cry, and he does. He rests his arms on the phone box -- and his head on his arms -- as he weeps.
Kris is emotionally and spiritually drained. The phone call exhausted him. Pain grips at his heart and body. His mind is numb from shock. He can't believe that she actually agreed to wait for him.
How is he so lucky? After everything he's put them through, Katy is still willing to give him one more shot to explain why he's been such a fool. She is the most amazing woman he's ever known outside of his mama.
A comforting hand lands on Kris's shoulder and gives him a good, firm rub. He doesn't know who it could be, but he appreciates the gesture all the same. Weary, he lifts his tear-stained face and glances sidelong to see... Charles. Kris gives his friend a pained smile.
"That bad, huh?," Charles prompts with a concerned frown. "You know, I never, ever thought that they would actually be mad about the guitar. Were they seriously that mad?," he asks, eyebrows fretting. "Or is there just something in your eye?"
Kris laughs. He's glad to have Charles around to keep him sane.
"No," Kris replies with a shake of his head. "That wasn't my parents."
"Well then, who the heck was it? Is there a hot-line for crazy, selfless people who are crazy?"
The sarcasm makes Kris smile, but it fades quickly. He sighs and wipes at his eyes. "It was Katy."
"Oh."
Charles looks rightfully shocked. Before they left for this mission trip to Thailand, Kris swore off talking about Katy and their past, which hadn't been an active issue until now.
"Man," Charles says with a skeptical tilt of his head, "I don't like to say it, but you are a drama glutton, today."
Kris scoffs. "I know, right?" He drops his forehead to thump against the phone box. "I'm like a frickin' chick flick."
Charles lays a hand to either of Kris's shoulders. Kris wryly smiles when Charles presses flush to his back.
"I'll never let go, Kris," Charles woefully whispers against Kris's ear. "I'll never let go."