Two Angsty Drabbles.
Title: Alone
Author: adamissexable
Disclaimer: Not mine and God forbid this EVER happen.
Pairing: Kradam, Kradison friendship
Rating: PG, PG-13 for a tiny bit of self-harm
Warnings: ANGST ALERT! Do not read if you DNW character!death and have triggers.
Notes: Angsty Drabble written to Come Here Boy - Imogen Heap. Needed a break from the porn, felt the need for this. Sorry. /:
Not even going to plead my case, I should be spanked for this. JS.
I'd say enjoy, but that would be wrong. So read?
He sits on the far side of the dimly lit room, tears streaking quickly down his face, the telltale signs of a fight marked into the skin of his forearms and chest. He can’t think, can’t breathe, strangled gasps and intakes of ragged breath fill the silence. He’s alone and wants nothing more than someone or something more than no one. He can’t make up his mind through the haze of cloudy thoughts that flicker in his head, dying out before he can dwell on them too long.
He’s broken, his heart is unsteady and one of his hands clutches at the empty spot on his finger where his wedding ring should lay. The imprint is still there, taunting him, his failure. He wants nothing more than to take back every word, every action if it meant getting him back.
He’s now panting, the walls aren’t where they should be, there’s no air in the room. He’s alone. He’s alone for the first time in four years. He sinks off of the bed to his knees, fumbling around with shaky hands in the darkness for the something, anything to stop the pain. But the room is empty and he cries out in frustration, tortured and anguished and he only half-hopes someone hears him to help put him out of his misery.
He struggles to his feet, crashing against the wall, head smacking with a satisfying crack, and he blinks the stars and tears out of his eyes frantically. He steps forward quickly, falling through the empty space, hitting two different objects before meeting the bright light of the bathroom. There’s a noise behind him, but he doesn’t notice, he can’t hear over the ringing in his ears, the sobs ripping through his chest, the ragged pace of his heartbeat.
He can’t stand the pain, he wants to claw a hand through his chest, stop his heart with his own grip. Anything to end this, this agony. He’s gone. He’s alone. He won’t make it in front of the crowds of people tomorrow. He’s done.
He crashes through the bathroom door, approaches the cabinet and flings it open, searching for something, anything. Just please, anything to stop it. He closes his hand around a bottle, and tries to open it, his hands trembling with the force of his sobs, tears blurring his vision. He fails miserably, hurling the unopened bottle into the mirror, shattered pieces of glasses falling around him.
He jerks backwards, sinking against the wall, throwing his head back and seeing stars once more, before ripping his hands through his hair and pulling, biting his lip hard enough to taste blood. He doesn’t want to live. He can’t live. Not without him. He refuses to.
He cries into his knees, his chest…it’s not functioning. He can’t suck in air, his heartbeat, it’s not right. It takes him seconds to realize there’s a hand against his own. Pulling, and there’s a voice.
He rips the hand away, he doesn’t want comfort, he doesn’t want sorrow. He wants to die. He snarls out words, his throat sore from tears, “Leave me alone.”
“No.” He recognizes the voice, but can’t bring himself to do more than acknowledge it.
He opens his eyes to meet the teary, broken ones in front of him, and the need for death is just intensified. “Please, Alli. Just let me.”
The volume raises, panicky and she grips his hands tighter. “Let you what? Kill yourself? Fuck you, if you think I’m going to sit here and watch you do that.”
He throws his head against the wall again and moans in pain. It brings on more tears, but he’s beyond the point of sanity. He’s gone, he’s alone. He can’t think.
The voice rises again, the pitch even higher, “Damnit, stop!”
He’s enclosed in warmth, small arms wrapping around his frame, and he can’t think. But he can smell. He can smell her and she smells like home, and his family, and everything he’s ever loved. And he wants him back. He needs him back. He says so.
The figure shakes against him, tears that aren’t his own drip down his wrist. “I know. But you need to realize. He’s gone. I am still here.” She pulls back and grabs him roughly by the jaw. “You may not need me, but I need you.”
He stops. Everything stops. The world, his heart, his breathing, and for a split second he sees another familiar person behind the one frozen in front of him. Then he’s gone. He wants to rip away from the girl before him, wants to chase the figure that vanished as soon as he appeared. But he can’t. Because his heart hurts and he can’t think and he’s immobilized.
So he succumbs. He lays his head against the wall and cries, freely, broken, loud sobs that mix with the girl’s. Because she’s crying too, in front of him, tears rolling down her face and she trembles with anguish.
He has just enough energy to lean forward and pull her close. His arms shake and she shakes, and they’re just one mess of tangled quaking limbs. But he can feel her heartbeat against his chest, even if he can’t feel his own. He feels her, and the world stops once more when he lifts his head up. And the familiar figure is reflected in the broken fragments of glass on the floor now.
He watches the man press his fingertips to his lips and press them against some unseen boundary before him. The world returns to normal, and the girl is shaking and crying and repeating muffled sounds, one name that rips through his heart each time it escapes her lips. But he’s masochistic, and likes the way it feels, like he deserves the pain, and he doesn’t tell her to stop.
He lets a sound rip through his own lips, but it’s louder and lower, “Kris.”
She lifts her head up to lock broken gazes with him. She can’t stand it any longer either. She crumbles when he pulls her back in, and she can’t hear his heartbeat above their noises combined. She can’t wrap her head around it. He’s dead. He’s gone.
He can’t stand the pain, he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t function. Because Kris is dead, the love of his life is gone, and the agony echoes in his chest. There’s a girl before him, and he’ll stay alive for her, his family.
But Kris will never be back. And Adam will always be alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Gone
Author: adamissexable
Disclaimer: Not mine and this won't ever be true because Kradam <3's eachother forever and always.
Pairing: Kradam
Rating: PG, PG-13 for a bit of language
Warnings: ANGST ALERT! Don't read if you don't like break-ups.
Notes: Angsty Drabble written to Come Here Boy - Imogen Heap. Needed a break from the porn, felt the need for this. Sorry. /:
Don't hurt me?
“No. You don’t get to walk out on me. On this. I gave up the fucking world for you, my entire fucking life for you, Kris. You don’t get to go back to her,” Adam snarls, the only thing keeping the tears at bay being his sheer determination not to let Kris see him vulnerable.
Kris just stares back, eyes hard and cold, posture rigid, when he replies, “You knew what this - what us fucking - entailed, Adam. She’s my wife. I don’t have a choice.”
Adam feels like he’s just been lashed, his heart is slowly disintegrating with each rejection. He speaks through clenched teeth, “Then why’d you start something you couldn’t fucking finish, Allen. You promised me - promised me you’d leave her, that you’d tell her.”
His words strike a chord with Kris and Adam watches his composure crack, face softening and eyes turning apologetic. Pity.
Adam doesn’t want pity. “Don’t even, don’t fucking say anything.” He takes one swift step forward, invading Kris’s personal space and not feeling welcome for once in his life.
“Let me guess. Let me just guess, Kristopher. What’s one more oath to break, is that right? You’ve broken your wedding vows, correct? And maybe I need to brush up on my Christianity but I’m almost positive there’s a sin somewhere in the bible…thou shalt not commit adultery,” he clenches his hands into fists at his side, resisting the urge to punch the man in front of him, Adam’s own mocking smile intact. “What’s one more broken promise thrown in there, huh?”
It’s a low blow. Beyond low, and Adam watches Kris visibly recoil, curling in on himself only slightly. His eyes look moist and his expression contorts into that of a grimace, his arm curling around his stomach.
Kris lifts his head back up to Adam, he’s shattered. “I know.”
There’s no anger in his words, no accusation, just agony and self-loathing. Adam’s smile falters and he has to fight even harder to hold back tears. He has no words anymore. Not any worth speaking.
He watches Kris take a step towards him, chests almost touching and Adam wills himself to step away, to keep it the way it is. He won’t let it get worse than this. There’s resolve in Kris’s eyes and Adam wants anything more than to be able to speak, to stop him, to run.
Kris wraps a hand around Adam’s neck, pulling him down and he knows he’s going to regret it later, going to regret bending down and kissing Kris back the second their lips meet. It’s desperation and regret and anguish and he can feel it in Kris’s jaw, in the way their lips meet. It’s frantic and messy and he can taste Kris’s apologies on his tongue, and he can’t bring himself to accept them, can’t do anything more but kiss him for as long and hard as he can. After this, there will be no more Kris.
Kris is the first one to pull away and Adam is shocked to find his eyelashes are wet, with both of their tears.
He watches Kris for a few seconds, knowing this is the last time they will be alone together like this. They don’t speak; don’t move beyond the slowing of their chests as their breathing evens out.
Kris gives Adam one long, last glance and Adam no longer recognizes the man before him. His eyes are guarded, detached; he’s not Kris anymore. Not Adam’s Kris, never again will he be his Kris.
Adam watches silently as Kris turns around, watches him walk right out of the door and out of his life. The kiss was their final goodbye. Kris was gone.
He fell to his knees, arms curling around his abdomen as the tears fell freely onto the carpet beneath him. Adam was gone, too.