Wallflower.
Title: Wallflower
By: The Meg
Pairing: Adam/John. John/Jesse. You know, the usual.
Rating: R
Summary: wall•flow•er n. One who does not participate in the activity at a social event because of shyness or unpopularity.
Notes: You don't really ever see shy&reserved!Adam. I've had this idea for months, I just want to know if it's worth writing and posting the rest of it once Agliophobia is over.
Prologue
He pats his hair down as he walks outside to sit on the swing build into the wrap-around porch. When he swings open the screen door, John is not greeted with the usual sight of his neighbors’ house across the street, but giant white letters against an orange backdrop reading Allied Moving Vans. It is not a van, but a large semi truck blocking the better part of half of his driveway. There are people milling about, like ants around an anthill, all carrying something whether it be boxes, furniture, or animals.
…Animals?
There’s a rather tall and rather thin boy carrying a little [what looks to be] Beagle puppy around with a cat following at his heels. John scratches his head. Dogs follow, cats are to be carried.
Wait. Cats and dogs don’t mix, do they?
I is early, John’s brain does not function well in the morning on Sundays in the summer, especially after school has just let out three days ago. He’s staring at this boy, ignoring the jumpsuit-wearing workers, the chain-smoking mother, and the busy-bee of a father, when suddenly the boy looks over and stares right back. The boy who’s moving in next door stares at him and John blushes and waves to him. He doesn’t wave back, only stares another few seconds before distracting himself with his puppy.
“Adam, put Marilyn down and bring some boxes inside.” He rolls his eyes and puts the dog down. Marilyn and the cat run off together. Cats and dogs aren’t supposed to mix, right? The boy disappears into the truck and John looks down the road the other way.
Adam.
His mother comes out a few minutes later and tells him to shower and bring some cookies to the new neighbors. To Adam and his chain-smoking mother and busy-bee father. Adam with the dog named Marilyn that gets along with the little grey cat. John showers and washes his hair for the first time in four days and dresses in his usual jeans and t-shirt getup [Beatles t-shirt today] and arrives in the kitchen the same time his mother is shoveling cookies onto a paper plate. He picks one up off of the cooling rack and eats it, not a word from his mother. She puts a layer of blue plastic wrap over the cookies and John is not aware that plastic wrap comes in colors nowadays. His mother picks up the plate and holds it out to John.
“Take this next door,” she orders
“Mom, they’re not even done moving in.”
“They could use some cookies for energy, then,” she insists. “Tell them I say hello.”
“Why can’t you do this yourself?” John asks, raising his eyebrows.
His mother gives him the look she always gives him when she doesn’t want to be questioned and shoves the plate into his hand, pushing him towards the door.
“Chocolate chip, mom. Not chocolate dirt-chip.”
“Go, John!”
Shouldn’t we just give them a Jell-O mold? I thought that’s what new neighbors do. It’s also the mother’s job to bring these cookies over there, not the oldest child’s. I don’t even like her cookies so why am I putting that skinny kid through the taste of these dirt clod chip concrete nasty cookies? Nevermind, he probably won’t be them anyways. He looks anorexic. Maybe I’m wrong and he’s really a girl. No, girls aren’t named Adam. What the hell, his mom already has cookies.
John lets his inner monologue take over sometimes. He’s in the midst of his thoughts and when his mind says Adam he is suddenly standing in front of said feminine boy. That cat is in his arms instead of the dog.
“Hi,” John says. “I’m John…I live next door. I’m supposed to give these to you.”
Adam looks to his feet as if asking them what to say back. “Um….hi.”
“You got a name?” John asks, though he already knows it.
“Yea-…um…y-. Adam.”
Adam’s father walks up behind him. “Don’t mind him, John. He’s just a little shy.”
By: The Meg
Pairing: Adam/John. John/Jesse. You know, the usual.
Rating: R
Summary: wall•flow•er n. One who does not participate in the activity at a social event because of shyness or unpopularity.
Notes: You don't really ever see shy&reserved!Adam. I've had this idea for months, I just want to know if it's worth writing and posting the rest of it once Agliophobia is over.
Prologue
He pats his hair down as he walks outside to sit on the swing build into the wrap-around porch. When he swings open the screen door, John is not greeted with the usual sight of his neighbors’ house across the street, but giant white letters against an orange backdrop reading Allied Moving Vans. It is not a van, but a large semi truck blocking the better part of half of his driveway. There are people milling about, like ants around an anthill, all carrying something whether it be boxes, furniture, or animals.
…Animals?
There’s a rather tall and rather thin boy carrying a little [what looks to be] Beagle puppy around with a cat following at his heels. John scratches his head. Dogs follow, cats are to be carried.
Wait. Cats and dogs don’t mix, do they?
I is early, John’s brain does not function well in the morning on Sundays in the summer, especially after school has just let out three days ago. He’s staring at this boy, ignoring the jumpsuit-wearing workers, the chain-smoking mother, and the busy-bee of a father, when suddenly the boy looks over and stares right back. The boy who’s moving in next door stares at him and John blushes and waves to him. He doesn’t wave back, only stares another few seconds before distracting himself with his puppy.
“Adam, put Marilyn down and bring some boxes inside.” He rolls his eyes and puts the dog down. Marilyn and the cat run off together. Cats and dogs aren’t supposed to mix, right? The boy disappears into the truck and John looks down the road the other way.
Adam.
His mother comes out a few minutes later and tells him to shower and bring some cookies to the new neighbors. To Adam and his chain-smoking mother and busy-bee father. Adam with the dog named Marilyn that gets along with the little grey cat. John showers and washes his hair for the first time in four days and dresses in his usual jeans and t-shirt getup [Beatles t-shirt today] and arrives in the kitchen the same time his mother is shoveling cookies onto a paper plate. He picks one up off of the cooling rack and eats it, not a word from his mother. She puts a layer of blue plastic wrap over the cookies and John is not aware that plastic wrap comes in colors nowadays. His mother picks up the plate and holds it out to John.
“Take this next door,” she orders
“Mom, they’re not even done moving in.”
“They could use some cookies for energy, then,” she insists. “Tell them I say hello.”
“Why can’t you do this yourself?” John asks, raising his eyebrows.
His mother gives him the look she always gives him when she doesn’t want to be questioned and shoves the plate into his hand, pushing him towards the door.
“Chocolate chip, mom. Not chocolate dirt-chip.”
“Go, John!”
Shouldn’t we just give them a Jell-O mold? I thought that’s what new neighbors do. It’s also the mother’s job to bring these cookies over there, not the oldest child’s. I don’t even like her cookies so why am I putting that skinny kid through the taste of these dirt clod chip concrete nasty cookies? Nevermind, he probably won’t be them anyways. He looks anorexic. Maybe I’m wrong and he’s really a girl. No, girls aren’t named Adam. What the hell, his mom already has cookies.
John lets his inner monologue take over sometimes. He’s in the midst of his thoughts and when his mind says Adam he is suddenly standing in front of said feminine boy. That cat is in his arms instead of the dog.
“Hi,” John says. “I’m John…I live next door. I’m supposed to give these to you.”
Adam looks to his feet as if asking them what to say back. “Um….hi.”
“You got a name?” John asks, though he already knows it.
“Yea-…um…y-. Adam.”
Adam’s father walks up behind him. “Don’t mind him, John. He’s just a little shy.”