100 hours (2/3)
Hour XXXVIII.
Adam doesn’t show at all that weekend, and Kris has to wait five days to apologize. By Wednesday, he’s almost sure that Adam won’t come to their weekly Wednesday chat either. It’s not like they have a formal appointment, after all.
But still, he waits.
By the time Adam’s car appears, Kris has been pacing the length of the parking lot for almost an hour. He’s been going over how incredible rude he had been. After everything Adam shared with him, that was no way to handle one simple question. He’s going to have to apologize seriously for being a dick and making Adam uncomfortable. It’s the least he owes him.
Talking has never been Kris’s thing. He envies people who are articulate and never fail to find the right words at just the right time, whereas Kris shuts down when there’s something he doesn’t want to talk about. If he tries to talk anyway, he flusters easily. The results are incoherent and usually kind of pitiful. If he’s not careful, he can be downright offensive because he’s so honest. When he tries to prevent that by preparing speeches in advance, he ends up sounding stiff and pedantic, which is almost as bad as offending people. But he babbles a lot when he’s nervous and unprepared, so…a vicious circle, that’s what it is. Sometimes he thinks he shouldn’t be allowed to talk, like, ever.
That’s why he prefers to let his actions speak for themselves, and that’s why as soon as Adam parks his car and opens the door, Kris hands him a cup of the expensive, crappy coffee Adam loves so much.
Adam blinks once, twice, and takes the Styrofoam cup with a puzzled look. He opens his mouth, but Kris beats him to it.
“It’s cold, because I didn’t know when you’d be here, and I didn’t want to miss you in case you came at your usual time, so I went to the café this afternoon-and let me tell you what a showy stupid place it is-and I had to smell all the different kinds of coffee they had in order to get the right one. They weren’t very happy with me, by the way, but I wanted to show you that I’m sorry, and…that’s all. I think.”
Adam lowers his eyes to the cup in his hand. Then he looks back up at Kris. There’s a little smile trying to curl the corners of his mouth.
“You went downtown just to bring me a cup of my favorite coffee?” he asks, disbelieving.
“I’m not sure it’s the right one, though. It smells kind of similar, but they were pretty irritated with me by the time I chose that one, so I couldn’t really stick around to make sure. And you put a lot of stuff into your coffee, like cinnamon and vanilla and,” he scrunches his nose, “mango syrup, and that made it kind of hard.”
Adam laughs and shakes his head. “You’re incredible, Kris Allen.”
Kris doesn’t want to look too eager, but…
“Does that mean we’re okay?” he asks, and then waits anxiously for the answer.
“Yes. We’re okay,” Adam tells him, and Kris can breathe again. “Now make my day and tell me that the plumber came to fix the bathrooms on the first floor.”
During their conversation, Adam drinks all the cold coffee. That’s how Kris knows that he’s actually forgiven.
It looks to him like Adam’s rather fond of gestures as well.
Hour XLIII
Adam knows he’s fucked when he realizes that he spent almost twenty minutes that morning standing inside his closet, torn between his tighest jeans and ones that are more... construction-appropriate. The baggier jeans are comfier and certainly more practical to work all day in.
They don’t sparkle, though.
He goes with the tight ones in the end. He never bothers to try and hide that he’s shallow. Especially from himself.
He spends the whole day constricted and uncomfortable in his pants. By noon, he has lost all feeling in his waist; the long seams on the sides of the pants have branded his thighs, and crouching down to pick up things has been an impossible task. But it’s worth every moment of discomfort because Adam has noticed that Kris’s eyes have lingered on him today more than any other day.
The tight jeans become a regular part of his construction-site wardrobe.
Hour XLVI
There’s shouting coming from upstairs. Kris takes off his protective glasses and shoots Matt a questioning look.
“What the…” Matt starts to say, but a male voice bellows, interrupting him.
“No, really, don’t be shy! Tell me how you feel, please.” The words are dripping with sarcasm, and the voice is unmistakable.
Matt mutters: “Adam?” and Kris nods, amazed. Just then Megan’s voice comes down the stairs with such strength that Kris thinks she must have been a banshee in another life.
“Why? Are you going to take your head out of your ass long enough to hear what another person has to say?”
Ouch! Kris thinks, and he’s sure the expression on Matt’s face reflects his own.
“What’s your problem, Megan? You’ve been at my throat since day one. What’s bugging you? Just tell me and get it out of your system.”
“You!” Megan yells. “You and your arrogance is what’s bugging me! I’m sick of you, okay? I’m sick of watching you flaunt yourself all over the place, like this is all yours to do what you please with, instead of stopping for a moment to actually listen and learn!”
Matt shakes his head. Kris winces in sympathy.
“Should we go up there?” Matt asks in an undertone, unsure. Kris opens his mouth to tell him that maybe they should let them get whatever their problem is out of their chests without an audience, but he never gets the chance, because the yelling starts all over again.
“Believe me, blondie, you can’t teach me anything I don’t already know.” Kris can practically see Adam’s smirk and folded arms.
“You are such an asshole, Lambert!” she hollers.
“And you’re a harpy!” Adam retorts with a loud sneer.
“I think we’d better go upstairs, dude,” Matt says again, and this time Kris has to agree. He takes off his gloves and his hard hat, and Matt does the same. The yelling doesn’t even pause.
“At least I know what’s important, you jerk. You come here in your designer clothes, with your fancy car and your two-hundred-dollar haircut like you’re God’s gift to us, when you have no idea at all what real life is!”
“Should I apologize for having money? It’s not stolen, you know, I work fucking hard to earn it.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure what you do is really tiring. Like working in a mine, right? You must be exhausted after doodling all day, you poor dear,” she mocks.
“So now you’re an expert on what an architect does. Megan Joy, ladies and gentleman, our intrepid reporter.” Adam’s sneer is so strong; his disdain virtually dripping from his words. “You know nothing about me and don’t you dare pretend to care.”
“And don’t you dare pretend you’re here out of anything other than obligation!”
“You have no fucking idea why I’m here!” Adam has a great set of pipes, Kris thinks absently.
Megan’s laugh is unkind, floating down the stairs. “Neither do you. And it sure as hell shows, Wonder Boy. You may be a famous architect, but this isn’t one of your flashy museums or whatever shit you usually do. This is real, dude, this is life.”
Kris starts to ascend the stairs, Matt behind him. They can hear Adam, lowering his voice to a growl. “I know about real life. I’m not that sheltered, whatever you may think.”
“Then get down off your high horse and take a look around. It’ll do wonders for your patronizing attitude.”
“So coming here to work every fucking hour I have free is having a patronizing attitude?”
“What do you want? A medal?”
“I come here to help you guys!”
“Giving out your spares is not sharing, pretty boy. It’s called bestowing charity!”
There’s a loud bang then, and Kris runs up the remaining five steps. When he reaches the landing, he finds Megan standing defiantly in front of Adam, the wooden board they use as a makeshift table for the blueprints knocked down on the floor, along with a bunch of papers and drawings that Kris can’t spare more than a passing glance for.
“I don’t care who the fuck gave you your diploma, Lambert, you’re nothing more than an arrogant prick who thinks he’s entitled to-”
Adam interrupts her. “Now, wait a minute, princess, who do you think you are? Why don’t you take your self-righteous speech and shove it where-”
“Hey, guys, GUYS!” Kris almost never shouts, so on the rare occasion that he does, it’s always effective, if only because of the shock value. “Time-out, okay?”
Matt is standing quietly behind him, and Kris can hear more people starting to come up the stairs. They need to do damage control before things get completely out of hand and others get involved. Kris looks to Matt. He doesn’t even have to say it. Matt moves slightly closer to Megan and nods at Kris almost imperceptibly. Then he speaks in a gentle tone, spreading his fingers over the small of her back. “Sweetie, why don’t you come downstairs with me to get a drink or something?”
For a moment, it looks like Megan is going to protest. But then she takes a deep breath, and with a loaded look thrown Adam’s way, she leaves with Matt. Kris knows she’ll be fine; Matt will take care of her. She’ll be laughing again in no time. After four years of working together, Kris knows he doesn’t have to worry about Megan. She’s stronger than she looks. Adam is the one Kris is worried about right now. He looks furious.
Adam’s pursed lips are almost white, an amazing feat considering how red his face is. And he’s breathing alarmingly fast.
“How are you?” Kris asks.
“Fine,” he answers through his clenched teeth, sounding anything but. He’s almost vibrating with anger and radiating tension. Kris decides to give him time to calm down. He crouches down to pick up the blueprints and the markers scattered around the floor, and after a moment’s hesitation, Adam joins him.
They work in silence. They lift the board and place it over the barrels they’ve been using as legs, and Kris dumps the papers on it. When they’re done, Adam runs a hand through his hair and mumbles something.
It’s too low for Kris to catch. He stares at Adam, almost afraid to ask.
“I said I’m sorry,” Adam repeats grudgingly.
Kris shrugs. “You don’t have to apologize to me, man. I wasn’t the one you were shouting at.” Trying to be the voice of reason when it comes to Adam and Megan would be an exercise in futility. They’re too stubborn and headstrong to listen to anyone else when they’re angry. And this was a long time coming, Kris knows. They’ve barely been able to stand each other since the day Adam started on the project. To be honest, Kris is astonished that they’ve managed to act professionally until today.
“That girl hated me on sight! I don’t know what her damage is!” Adam says at last. There’s an undertone of hurt in his voice, and he sounds almost surprised at the concept that he might not be everyone’s favorite.
“What happened?” Kris asks, taking a seat on some sacks. Adam starts pacing the room.
Adam is volatile and always in motion. Kris has to admit that it’s been a source of entertainment for him ever since they started working together. He never stays still; even when he’s on the phone, he talks with his hands. He always paces when he’s thinking. It’s like Adam is made of pure energy, and he has to dissipate it by moving around or he’ll go supernova.
This time is no different. He walks and talks, his hands wind-milling around his head.
“I don’t know! I was just here, minding my own business, and she came and asked me what I was doing. So I told her I was thinking about a new layout for the ground floor, all glass and wide spaces. And then she went ballistic and started yelling at me!”
Adam doesn’t wait for a response; he keeps on talking.
“Seriously, that girl is insane! She yells at me, tells me I’m an inconsiderate asshole, that I know nothing about real life, not a single clue, and that I have no sense whatsoever. And I don’t even know what she’s angry about.”
He stops in front of Kris, looking distressed.
“I got this idea last night, and at first I thought it would be too expensive, but this morning, I checked with a couple of my contacts, and I got one of them to agree to donate the materials we would need in exchange for a consulting work I can do in my sleep. I don’t see what’s so wrong with that. I just want the building to look fantastic. With open space and massive glass walls at street level, it would look like the other floors are floating above the entrance! It’ll be so striking!”
Uh-oh, Kris thinks. Now he can see where the problem is. “And how would the tenants use this open ground floor of yours?” he asks carefully.
“Well, entrance, obviously. The stairs and the elevator will be in the center with specially treated walls so it’ll look like a black, lacquered box that hides the connections and liberates the rest of the space. All clean lines and polished surfaces. Very Zen-like. It’ll be fierce!” He grins, looking excited and triumphant.
“And where were you thinking about moving all the rooms on this floor that we already have in the blueprints? Not to mention the two apartments we’d lose with the new distribution,” Kris asks slowly.
“Well, I thought about moving the children’s care room to the first floor. And…” he stops for a second. “And I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to lose two apartments on each floor. There are twenty four more.”
Yeah, that’s exactly what Kris was afraid of. The idea of happily losing four apartments for no reason whatsoever would not sit well with Megan. Arguably, she could have just told Adam why they can’t afford to do that instead of yelling, but that she doesn’t like Adam combined with how personal this whole thing is to her probably made her see red immediately. If Adam had known Megan’s story, he might not have been so cavalier with the apartments. Kris ponders telling Adam about it, but in the end, it’s not his story to tell.
He tries to tactfully explain why they can’t go ahead with Adam’s idea. “The thing is, we really can’t afford to lose the two apartments on the ground floor, and then another two on the first floor to accommodate childcare, just because you want an open-floor plan at ground level that only has artistic value.”
Adam crosses his arms over his chest. Kris raises an eyebrow at him. Talk about defensive body language. Adam’s posture is shouting DANGER in big neon letters. Unfortunately, Kris can’t just back away with his hands held high; he needs to make Adam understand.
“This is a building with a very specific purpose. It’s supposed to help single mothers get back on their feet, and childcare in the same building will allow them to leave the kids in an easy-to-reach, safe environment while they work.” He rubs his forehead. “We can’t just eliminate it. And we can’t remove four apartments because that would mean that we’ll be helping four fewer women.”
“So you’re saying you don’t want the building to look good,” Adam says, annoyed.
“No.” Kris tries cautiously. “What I’m saying is that we don’t want to sacrifice utility for the sake of beauty. Not when it means that there are four families that we’re not helping if we choose to go with the aesthetic option.”
“I don’t work like this,” Adam says, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “I don’t usually have to compromise. Not on my budget, and certainly not on space.”
“I know. But this is not a gallery in Europe or the fanciest mall in Asia. It’s not a lavish villa in Dubai, either. It’s just a little building that needs to be useful. Nothing more. We’re not looking for an award-winning project, man.”
Adam is still angry; Kris can see it in the stiff line of his shoulders and the way his jaw is twitching.
“Our goals are pretty humble,” Kris says. Adam has his head down and his hands braced on the blueprints.
“But it doesn’t have to be ugly in order to be useful, does it?” Adam says with a small voice. He sounds so crestfallen that Kris wants to hug him and make it better. Badly.
“And that’s why we have you. If there’s a way for this to happen, if it’s possible for this building to be both practical and beautiful, I’m sure you’ll find it,” he says.
Adam sighs. His shoulders relax a little.
“I know it’s a challenge, but I trust you completely,” Kris adds.
Adam stares at the blueprints in front of him for a long time. Then he turns to Kris with a tiny smile dancing on his lips and narrows his eyes.
“They really do grow them charming in the South, don’t they?” he says.
Kris bursts out laughing.
Crisis averted, just like that. Kris hopes Matt has been half as lucky as he’s been, and that he’s still alive and in one piece after dealing with a seething Megan.
Hour LI
The following Saturday, a messenger comes in before lunch, with the biggest bouquet Kris has ever seen in his life. Megan is almost dwarfed by the height of the white roses and pink tulips, so it’s remarkably easy for Matt to steal the card from her and read it out loud.
“Megan: Thank you for making me understand the difference between designing buildings and designing homes. Adam. PS: Even if it was by yelling my ears off.”
“Aww,” somebody behind Kris says, and Kris smirks when Matt gags. Cook takes the card from him, slaps the back of Matt’s neck and sticks it back in the bouquet.
Megan is blushing furiously, and goes away muttering something about stupid men and old-fashioned gestures, acting like she doesn’t like the flowers but clutching them to her chest at the same time.
On her way out she shouts up the stairs, “I still think you’re an asshole, Lambert!”
From two stories above, Adam shouts back. “And I still think you should cut your hair! Hippie!”
“Whatever, Glam Boy!” she replies, and leaves to put her flowers in some water.
Kris watches her go in awe. She’s glowing. Adam managed to make Megan glow. He’s seeing it with his own eyes and he still can’t believe it.
Last time he saw Megan glow like this was when she told him she was pregnant, before her shitty husband left her; before the mortgage became an impossible burden and she lost her medical insurance. Even after all of that, Megan still isn’t bitter. She just has a no-nonsense attitude now and a tougher look on life than most people, that’s all.
Megan is strong; she has to be in order to raise her son alone. She’s been on her own since Ryder’s father abandoned them when he was barely ten days old. Megan is totally devoted to her son; she works hard for him, to be able to give him everything he needs and make him as happy as possible.
She never dates, she doesn’t party, hardly ever goes out. Last time Megan bought something for herself was probably when her old work boots died of overuse.
The flowers Adam bought her are useless, frivolous, and probably overpriced; it’s exactly the kind of thing she doesn’t allow herself to have. But the bouquet made her eyes shine, and her smile lit up her face, making her look like the young girl she never allows herself to be.
Kris wonders how Adam could possibly know that Megan needed something extravagant and just a little bit ridiculous. It’s completely over the top, much like the ground floor Adam had planned and Megan had hated, so how could he even tell she wouldn’t throw that bouquet back at his head and yell at him some more? Kris thinks that this whole thing proves how wrong Megan has been about Adam all along. Adam is thoughtful. He’s insightful. And he damn well knows how to grovel and ask for forgiveness when he’s wrong. After the scene they made at the site, Adam could’ve tried to hide any transgression on his part, but instead he chose to make his apology as public as possible. Kris doesn’t know if he could have been so brave and gracious in the same situation.
With a jolt, Kris realizes that everyone but him has already gone back to work, and he’s standing there like an idiot with a huge, infatuated smile on his face. He looks around, trying not to blush, and then covers his eyes with his palms when he fails.
Shit, shit, SHIT, he thinks, hitting the back of his head against the bare concrete wall. This can’t possibly be good.
Hour LIX
Adam turns up the volume of Kris’s iPod and shakes his hips to the beat. He’s so glad he made Kris download Starstrukk! He loves Katy Perry; her music is perfect for cleaning windows. He’s been at it for two hours now, and he’s barely tired after taking care of all the windows on the first floor. He’s hoping to be done with the second floor today as well. It’s mindless work, so Adam busies himself with analyzing Kris’ music choices as he does it. Despite his easygoing persona, the guy is pretty closemouthed about his life. Since Adam can’t seem to pry things out of him, he’s been reduced to having to piece clues together.
Kris’ tastes are eclectic, running from the Beatles to Keith Urban, with some Muse thrown in for good measure. He has classic rock, pop, and lots of country on his iPod. Adam smiles when the song ends and a delicate new melody start, going from energetic pop to a soft ballad in two seconds flat. That’s Kris for you.
Adam jumps when a hand touches his shoulder and yanks out the earphones.
“You stopped singing…” Kris says, looking disappointed.
“I don’t know this song,” he says and offers one of the earphones to Kris.
“Oh.” Kris smiles. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s called Falling Slowly.”
He takes one of Adam’s rags and starts to rub the glass, humming the song. Adam follows his lead.
They work closely as they listen to the song, and when it ends, Adam puts it on repeat. Kris chuckles.
“What?” Adam says defensively. “I like it.”
He doesn’t bother specifying what he likes, before he turns back to the window and starts wiping the corner studiously. What he likes is working beside Kris, their arms touching, the soft melody in one of his ears, Kris’s voice, warm and sexy, singing along in the other.
Hour LXIV
“Give me a hand, would you?” Adam says from the door, and Kris comes closer to take the large box he’s carrying. He puts it on the floor, following Adam’s gestures.
“Open it!” Adam says brightly, his smile enormous and infectious. When Kris opens the box, he discovers around fifty hardhats, all of them black and shiny. He looks up, knitting his eyebrows. What is this for? They already have hard hats.
Where the hell did they come from anyway? And wait a moment. Are they black? Kris has never seen black hardhats before. He looks down to check it out and then up at Adam again, surprised.
Adam must have misread Kris’s expression, because he jumps where he’s standing excitedly.
“I know; they’re so awesome!” He bends down to take the one at the top and puts it on. “I had them made especially for us. This is mine. Look!” and when he turns, he signals to the little logo in glittery silver ink at the back of the hat.
Kris leans closer to read. “’Not Save For Work!’?”
Adam cracks up, delighted, and Kris can’t help but smile. The guy is insane.
“Do all of them have stuff like that written on them?”
Adam walks away, snickering. “Don’t be silly, Kris. I don’t have that much time to waste. Besides, not all jobs have funny connotations.”
He’s almost out of sight when he hollers back, “But you’ll see I was at my finest with the ones I ordered for the plumbers!”
Kris runs back to the box to look at the rest of the hard hats. He knows enough about Adam by now to be wary of his sense of humor.
Hour LXVII
“How come you never talk about your life back in Arkansas?” Adam asks Kris.
They’re unloading boxes of tiles and passing them inside the building through a human chain of volunteers. Thankfully, the truck was delayed, or they’d have had to do this under the sweltering sun. We’re almost done, Adam assures himself, only a couple more boxes left. Manual labor was not what he had in mind when he put on his new Armani t-shirt this morning. His hands are red and tender and his arms are sore. Gym weights are totally different from this. If this is what Kris does everyday, it’s no wonder his arms look so fantastic.
Matt passes by with a box full of water bottles that he’s offering everybody and answers Adam’s question. ”Kris doesn’t like to talk about himself; it endangers the mystique.”
“Yes, Giraud, I’m so mysterious,” Kris jokes.
Adam takes a large sip of water and stares at him; the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, sweaty bangs hanging over his forehead. How Kris manages to look hot even when he’s sweating like a pig, Adam has no idea.
“Well, we wouldn’t know, now, would we? You never say a thing about your previous life. You could have been a serial killer for all we know!” Matt remarks over his shoulder, carrying the water to the other end of the line.
“I’m not a serial killer,” Kris mumbles, staring absently at the building.
“It’s not serial killing if you don’t kill more than three people over thirty days,” Adam informs them. Adam is an encyclopedia of irrelevant crap. He wishes he could say he was proud of it. It’s just a side-effect from having lived with Neil and not having many friends all through his high school years.
Kris turns his head slowly to look at him, puzzled. “I’m not going to ask why you know that.”
“It’s better if you don’t, actually.”
They regard each other in silence, and then Kris shakes his head and asks, “And what about you? Why did you go into architecture?”
“Long version or short?” Adam asks.
Kris takes Adam’s wrist and turns it around to see his watch. He never wears one himself, and it drives Adam crazy that he still manages to always be on time.
“Long version, and I’m buying the beers,” he says.
“Throw in a sandwich and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Adam offers.
“You’re on.”
The bar they choose is the noisy one two blocks down. A couple of the volunteers from the site are there, too, now that the workday is over. Kris and Adam nod at the two Davids seated at the counter eating a sandwich, and head straight to one of the booths at the back by unspoken agreement.
“So,” Kris says, after he swallows the first bite of his juicy hamburger. Adam looks down morosely at his chicken salad and curses, once again, his father’s sturdy build.
“So?” he parrots back.
“How come you’re an architect?”
“Why? It doesn’t suit me?” Adam jokes.
Kris smiles and takes a sip of his beer. “You’re kind of extreme for such a conservative profession.”
“But I’m an artist!” he protests.
“Sure you are, dear,” Kris mocks him.
Adam mimics a fake British accent when he speaks. “I’ll have you know, sir, that architecture is one of the Fine Arts, equal in importance to painting, sculpture, or music, and is the only one that provides shelter as it feeds the soul.”
Kris looks at him in silence for a moment as he chews. “Kind of long for a t-shirt slogan. And also? You accent is ridiculous.”
“Says the man with the twang and a mouth full of hamburger.” Adam deadpans. Kris opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, and Adam exclaims, “Gross!”
Kris smirks and stares expectantly at him.
“Okay, I’ll tell you. Let’s go back in time, right? Imagine, California, mid-nineties.” Adam makes an all-encompassing gesture with his hands. Kris snorts.
“I was a chubby, redheaded, gay teenager with self-esteem problems and a mother who started to collaborate with an architecture studio and then fell in love with the architect. Still with me?” He looks at Kris and when he nods, Adam resumes talking.
“So the guy wanted to get along better with his girlfriend’s kids, so he invited me and Neil to the studio. He was working on the design of a nursery in Holland, and he asked us if we wanted to help. Neil wasn’t interested, but I’d always liked design, though, okay, it was mostly fashion design up till then, but it didn’t seem that different than helping out the drama teacher with the stage décor, so I started spouting off ideas to Philippe. Ideas that until that exact moment I hadn’t even known I had, about how the nursery should work, about the colors and the materials and stuff. At first, I could tell he was humoring me, but then he started paying attention, which only encouraged me, and after that, he actually sat down and started taking notes.”
Now that he’s driving down the Memory Lane, all the emotions rush back to Adam, and he can’t help but smile. “A few weeks later, he showed me the blueprints and the drawings of the nursery before he sent them to Holland, and then, when it was finished, somehow it got nominated for an award, and it won. Philippe took me with him to the ceremony in Amsterdam, just the two of us, and he made me go up on the podium with him when he gave the acceptance speech.”
He’s smiling widely now and glances at Kris to see him with his hands full of a half-forgotten burger that’s slowly dripping ketchup over his fries. His warm brown eyes are wide open, and he seems enraptured.
“Philippe said that the technical part of the project was the result of teamwork, but the artistic part, the soul of the project, was totally my idea. He said that I gave him the guidelines, and he only had to translate them to paper, so the award should be mine. And then he gave it to me, right there, in front of all those important people, everybody smiling and clapping at me.”
He remembers how he felt like it was yesterday; the lights, the flashes, the sound of the applause, and the feel of Philippe’s hand on his shoulder, proud. It was like magic, probably the best night of his life. He’s older now, and he has learned since then that the award ceremonies are more often about politics than art, but that night, for the first time in his life, he had felt like he was more than an awkward teenager with bad skin. He’d felt like an artist and the applause carried him to the top of the world.
He has carried that feeling with him; no matter how much time has passed, he can still feel the excitement and the joy, the same as he did that day.
He raises an eyebrow when he hears Kris gulp. He seems to be choking on his burger.
“And that’s the long story. I decided that I wanted to feel that way all the time, so I went to college to study architecture. My mother and Philippe weren’t together anymore by the time I graduated, but he hired me anyway, and when he decided that he wanted to retire, I inherited the studio and his list of clients. That’s why the studio is called Hendel and Lambert. I kept his name, because I owe him everything.”
Kris wipes his mouth with a napkin, worryingly quiet. Adam fidgets under his unblinking stare.
“So, are you actually a redhead?” Kris asks finally, completely serious.
Adam gapes at him. “Really? That’s the part of the story that stood out for you?”
Kris smirks. Adam throws a napkin at his head. “You’re a little shit, Allen. You look all tiny and sweet, full of charm and smiles, but inside you’re laughing at us all the fucking time.”
Kris takes a sip of his soda, eyes full of mischief.
It’s only when Adam is in front of his mirror, busy with his daily cleansing routine before bed, that he realizes that Kris never actually answered the question about his past.
Hour LXXII
He’s going to be so late; it’s not even funny. Thank God Tommy is a trooper and said it wouldn’t be a problem if they stopped by the site before their dinner with the Ramos Pinto delegates or Adam would be in a real trouble.
He parks the car, steps out hurriedly, and then, dismayed, notices that he forgot to bring his work boots. That’s just perfect. He’s going to ruin his new snakeskin boots if he goes in like this, not to mention his trousers. Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He runs back and opens the trunk, hoping against hope that by some miracle a pair of work boots have materialized. Hey haven’t. His hard hat, a bottle of water, some rolled blueprints and a box of condoms are all that’s left. Nothing more.
“Hey,” he hears someone say, and turns around to see Kris’s smiling eyes. “I thought you had a meeting.”
“Yes, I do, but I left my portfolio here. I need it, like, right now, if I want to be on time. The clients are already at the restaurant waiting.”
“And where’s your portfolio?” Kris asks.
“On the fourth floor. I left it there this afternoon. It has the blueprints for the winery in Porto, but I can’t get it, because if I do it, I’m going to ruin my new shoes,” he whines and tries his puppy eyes on Kris. They work wonders with his mother.
Kris glances down at Adam’s boots, but doesn’t seem all that impressed. And the puppy dog eyes only seem to amuse him. He chuckles and shakes his head.
“I’m way too tired to go and rescue it for you,” he says.
Adam pouts.
Kris shakes his head no with a smile.
Adam turns up the intensity of the puppy eyes to level six on his scale of adorable.
“You’re so lucky I have Anoop’s cell. I’ll tell him to bring it down here,” Kris says. He takes out his phone, and while he’s scrolling down his contact list, he blithely says, “You clean up well. You sure this is only a business dinner?”
Adam smiles. “Well, I know where the night’s beginning, but who knows where it’ll end, right?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
Kris chuckles again, fondly, and then gets Anoop on the phone and starts talking to him. Adam doesn’t hear what he’s saying, too busy being ecstatic that Kris noticed and commented on his appearance. He’s glad that Kris got to see him out of his work clothes for once. He feels much more secure in his usual black ensemble and full make-up. He spends an embarrassing amount of time in front of his closet trying to choose what to wear to the site every day, but still it never has quite the same effect. He’s doing what he can with more-or-less practical clothing, trying to find the right combination that says: Fashionable but Down to Earth, or Bold but Sensible, or Chic and Accessible… or, you know, Totally and Unapologetically Available.
Tommy steps out of the car. “Hey, babe, Longineu called. He says that we better be there in fifteen minutes, or we could be saying goodbye to our nuts.”
Adam snickers. “Don’t worry, Kris is saving our lives. And our balls, too,” he adds with a laugh, and puts an arm over Tommy’s shoulders when he comes closer.
“So, you’re Kris, then?” Tommy says, and smiling widely, he extends his hand towards Kris. “I’m Tommy. I’m glad we meet at last. Adam talks about you all the time.”
“No, I don’t,” Adam says, and hopes the make-up covers his blush. This crush is beginning to reach ridiculous levels, really.
Kris scowls, but accepts Tommy’s hand cordially. “Well, nice to meet you, too.” His tone is wary, none of his charming personality in sight. Adam wonders what that’s all about, but Tommy’s talking again before he has a chance to open his mouth.
“This building of yours looks good,” Tommy comments. “Adam is pretty enthusiastic about it, too.” Kris looks…blank, his expression lacking his usual warmth. Tommy seems oblivious to the cold shoulder. “Mind if I come along to look around next weekend?” he asks.
Kris doesn’t answer immediately; he seems like he’s considering saying no. Adam frowns. Kris takes a glance at his frown before turning to Tommy and saying, “Sure, any and all help is welcome, man. Any friend of Adam’s is already a part of the family.” There’s something off about the whole conversation that Adam can’t quite put his finger on.
Tommy smiles. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Anoop chooses this moment to appear with Adam’s portfolio, and Adam waves his arms over his head to beckon him. Anoop doesn’t see his flailing, but notices them finally when Kris puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly.
Kris sticks his hands in his pockets and nods back towards the building behind him. “I should get going. I’ve got some stuff to take care of before going home. You guys have a nice evening.”
“Bye,” Adam says, not sure what just happened. Kris turns around and walks towards the building with a quick pace. Adam shouts, “See you on Saturday!” after him, but Kris doesn’t look back.
Hour LXXXVIII
“Here’s your coffee,” Adam says, holding out the cup. Kris smiles tiredly and takes it.
Adam shakes his head. Has Kris always been this thin? He doesn’t think so. Granted, Adam hasn’t been around much this last week, had to run back and forth between the new project at work and the site, but surely someone must have fed the guy something while Adam was busy. “Have you had anything to eat today?” he asks, “At all?”
“I forgot. The electrician got the outlet positions wrong in half the third floor apartments, so we had to rush to fix the wiring before they started the plasterwork today. We barely finished an hour ago.”
Adam leans in through the open window of his SUV to get the paper bag in the front seat. He takes out a bagel and hands it to Kris.
“I’m your architect, not your mother. How the hell are we supposed to finish this building if you don’t take care of yourself? I need my sidekick completely operative!”
Kris smiles, mouth full of bagel. “So I’m your sidekick, now?”
“Of course you are,” Adam replies.
“And how come you’re not the sidekick?” Kris asks, or at least that’s what Adam thinks he asks, because his mouth is full of food again. “I’m the one who works the hardest here; I’m supposed to be the hero of the story.”
“Please,” Adam says, taking out another bagel and offering it to Kris. “I’m older, taller and wiser. I even dress in black all the time. You’re so the Robin to my Batman!”
“I’m not going to start wearing leotards to satisfy your kinks, Lambert,” Kris warns, but the happy face he makes as he takes the bagel ruins the gloomy effect he’s going for.
“But you would be so hot in tights and a yellow cape,” Adam complains.
“Not happening, buddy.”
“You are no fun at all, Kristopher, just so you know,” Adam informs him.
Kris smiles. Adam smiles back.
Adam has missed Kris’s smile. It’s been absent for a couple of days now. He’s been worried, to be honest, not that he’s told anybody. No matter how curious he got, he didn’t think Kris would appreciate him asking around. He’s a private person, he probably wouldn’t take it too well to be the subject of speculation at the site.
Adam promises himself to pay extra attention to Kris’s schedule from now on. This whole thing could come down to exhaustion.
“Do you have to go back just yet?” Kris asks.
“Not really. Why?”
Kris shrugs. “Thought maybe we could hang out a little. Just-to catch up.” He tries to play it cool, but Adam can see the tips of his ears reddening.
“I can stay as long as you want,” he says. Kris ducks his head and grins.
Hour XCIV
They’re on their lunch break when Adam’s cell beeps. The message makes Adam snort. Kris tilts his head in question.
“It’s nothing. The guys are having a pool party at Cassidy’s.” He’s already typing something in response.
“You weren’t invited?” Kris asks.
“Oh, no, I was, I totally was. I just told them that I had to be here.” He snorts. “Cassidy says all the hot guys are taken already, and they’re really bored. He requests my presence to entertain them.” He puts the phone away and takes another bite of his sandwich.
“You know you don’t have to be here every Saturday, Adam. You can take a weekend off, if you want. I mean, your 100 hours are almost complete anyway.”
“I know,” Adam says with a smile. “And my supervisor is a pretty nice guy, too. He would totally give me a day off if I wanted it. But I like being here. It’s fun.”
Kris smiles back at him, pleased. These moments between them are precious; Kris treasures every day they get to spend at the site without Tommy now-because God knows they’re growing scarce. He’s trying very hard to be civil with the guy, for Adam’s sake if nothing else, but deep inside? He really, really doesn’t want to.
He doesn’t have it in him to be openly rude to anyone, and he wouldn’t want to offend Adam by telling his friend to back the heck off anyway, so he has to resort to just not being all that nice to him. It’s all petty, passive aggressive shit, like not asking him how he’s doing, or not introducing him to people… He knows he should be ashamed of himself for the satisfaction he gets out of this stupidity, but he can’t help it! Tommy’s always around Adam, chattering about work and clubs and acquaintances-stuff that effectively leaves Kris out of all their conversations and makes him feel like he doesn’t know Adam as well as he thought he did, and that just bugs Kris. A lot.
Kris had to pull back after a while, find excuses to disappear whenever Adam and Tommy work together on something. Adam is a very tactile person; he touches people as he works-to get their attention, to describe something, to just lean against them. He used to touch Kris all the time, freely, constantly, liberally, and Kris never noticed how much he cherished those touches until they were taken from him and given to someone else.
Someone cuter and way more interesting than plain old Kris Allen.
Kris wants things to go back to the way they were. He wants Tommy out of his site. He tries to ignore the fact that Adam seems to enjoy Tommy’s presence. Since he started coming by, Adam smiles more, jokes all the time, and just acts generally cheerful. And Tommy’s following him around like he’s the half-sized shadow of Adam. A shadow that brightens Adam’s smile, wears trendy clothes, and has outrageous hair. Kris doesn’t like thinking about any of this, because when he does, he wants to yell at them, or shave Tommy’s head, or kick Adam. Hard.
And then he wants to kick himself, because this? This is ridiculous. He’s too old to be crushing on someone like this. Last time he was this infatuated with somebody, he was fourteen and still thought he was straight.
Good times they were. Not.
Besides, he doesn’t want this friendship to end as badly as that one did. He sneaks a glance at Adam. It took him three years to get his friendship back on track with Katy after they screwed up their relationship. Kris doesn’t know if Adam would give him that kind of time.
Adam’s cell beeps again, and Adam laughs when he reads the message.
“They’re crazy,” he says, showing Kris a picture of two guys, all smoky eyes and high cheekbones, naked from the waist up, with “Come to the dark side, we have twinks!” written on their chests.
Kris smirks and takes the phone to get a closer look. “They must be pretty desperate if they’re trying to bribe you with naked strangers and purple lipstick.”
“Not strangers. The one on the right is Cass,” Adam says, and when Kris raises his head, he adds, “and Brad is the one of the left.”
Kris turns back to the picture again, looking closely. Adam has joked enough about having a type and his legendary fondness for tiny southern brunets that Kris shouldn’t be surprised. But knowing something is one thing. It’s entirely different to have tangible proof.
Brad has brown hair, a chiseled jaw, and warm dark eyes, and more importantly, he could easily be part of Kris’s family. As a matter of fact, he looks uncannily like to Kris’ cousin Jake, who lives in Little Rock and works in a bank. Only, you know, minus the mascara.
Unless the dress code at banks has changed drastically since Kris was last in Arkansas, and the tellers are now allowed to wear mascara and fake purple eyelashes.
“He’s…cute,” Kris says, finally, handing Adam back his cell.
“Yeah. He has perfect skin, the asshole,” Adam responds, his tone rich with affection. Then he smirks and snaps a picture of Kris, laughing at his protests.
“What are you doing? Adam!”
“I’m sending them your picture,” Adam confirms his fears. “They will stop bugging me as soon as they see it.” He types something. Kris leans over his shoulder to read.
“Sorry. Busy working. My supervisor is a slave-driver…but he’s cute!” He sends it before Kris can stop him.
“Hey!” Kris says. He thinks he should probably be more offended by this and tries to at least look it. But Adam just snickers and steals Kris’s Coke.
“If we finish early, we can drop by the party if you want to,” he says, after taking a sip, giving Kris a strange furtive glance.
“Yeah?”
“Sure, why not? It could be fun. If you don’t mind being teased within an inch of your life, of course.”
He’s not sure if a pool party is his thing; Kris is more a `barbecue, plaid and some beer´ kind of guy. Adam’s world of cocktails, tinsel and tight clothes seems fantastic, but a little overwhelming for Kris, like an alternate universe where everybody is shiny and gorgeous and sophisticated. He finds Adam’s artistic friends sort of intimidating. From what Adam has told him, Alisan sings, Cassidy is a famous designer, and Brad…well, Brad is some type of performer that expresses his creativity in a complicated way that after three tries, Adam has given up on trying to explain to Kris. Somehow, it involves the internet, some kind of new age mentality, and lots of glitter. Kris thinks there are feathers involved somewhere, too.
In comparison, Kris is plain. He plays guitar, watches baseball, and eats breakfast foods at dinnertime wearing only his underwear. And socks.
Glamor is very far from Kris Allen’s living room.
“I don’t know,” he says, looking away. Adam touches a hand to his chin and turns his head. He studies Kris’s face intensely, causing him to suppress a shiver.
“We should go. I’d like to take you to the party.” His voice is hoarse. Intimate. “Would you come with me?” he asks finally, as if Kris can say no to that.
Kris nods. He can’t deny Adam anything when he’s looking at Kris like that. And who cares if it’s not his scene? He deserves this. He wants to go on a date with Adam. He’s been waiting for the perfect moment to ask Adam out for weeks now. Granted, a party hosted by the dreaded ex is not exactly the most auspicious first date in the world, but…he’s ready to take a chance. He’s dying to take a chance.
The familiar beeping of Adam’s cell breaks the moment. Adam tilts it so Kris can see the screen, too.
“Pretty! We should start volunteering, too. LOL!”
Kris blushes. Adam laughs.
They leave early that afternoon. Adam offers to come by Kris’s place to pick him up an hour later, but Kris knows that if he’s alone he’ll talk himself out of going and conveniently come down with the flu, so they take their cars and go to Kris’s place first. He needs to shower and change into something that makes him look less like a construction worker.
“I don’t know if that’s possible, but you can at least try and wear something clean,” Adam says bitchily. Kris pays him no mind. Adam is such a sore loser. He wanted them to go to his place first, but Kris had to object. It only makes sense that he gets to go home first when it would take him no more than five minutes to get ready, whereas Adam would probably take longer than an hour. Adam bitched and moaned, but when Kris threatened to time him, he had to give up. Kris tried not to gloat. Much.
Kris’s living room is kind of cluttered, papers piled on his table, his gray t-shirt slung over the sofa, but everything is more or less clean, and the late afternoon light comes through the window, painting the whole room a warm shade of orange.
“Nice,” Adam says, looking around.
“Not very Zen-like,” Kris jokes.
“But it’s totally you,” Adam answers.
Kris smiles and gestures towards the kitchen. “Want a beer?” he asks.
“No, thank you.” Adam looks so large in the middle of his tiny living room, and so totally out of place with his tight jeans and necklaces dangling over his charcoal t-shirt. Kris has always loved contradictions. That’s why he learned to play viola as he learned to play baseball, and that’s also why he adores bacon and strawberry jam sandwiches. Because life is made of contrasts, of things that shouldn’t go together, but in reality get along smoothly.
Things that are not supposed to work, but do anyway; things that had spent their whole lives being separately awesome but are even better together than apart.
Like chocolate covered pretzels. Like laughing during sex.
He looks at the imposing figure of Adam that should be, by size alone, incredibly intimidating, but manages to give off an air of closeness and sweetness to Kris instead. Who would have thought that black nail polish and leather could be sweet? And who would have thought that someday, Kris would be looking at someone like Adam, thoroughly besotted by him?
“Well, not to be impatient, but if we want to find someone still sober when we arrive, you better go shower now, Kris.”
“Yeah, all right. Make yourself at home. Give me five minutes, okay?”
It’s probably the fastest shower Kris has ever taken, but it doesn’t matter in the end, because standing in front of his closet in just a towel and dripping all over the place, he’s using up every second he managed to save. He needs to find something to wear that’s a little more creative, but there’s no use trying. Not when his closet is intent on being its usual boring self.
“What’s taking you so long?” Adam yells from the other room.
“Just trying to find something to wear,” Kris shouts back.
“Oh, for the love of all that’s holy, not plaid, please!” Adam says, and Kris frowns, because that? That cuts off half of his wardrobe right there. “Tell me you have at least some black t-shirt that we could-“
Adam is at the door, frozen, staring at Kris with wide eyes. Kris blushes.
“Oh! I’m sorry I just-barged in.”
“No, it’s okay, don’t worry,” Kris answers. It’s not like he minds. “I’ll take any help I can get. I don’t really do pool parties that often, so I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.”
Adam is looking anywhere but at Kris’s face or body, and he’s the closest to uncomfortable Kris has ever seen him. It’s sweet, and endearing-and kind of empowering for Kris, too. Knowing that his bare chest is able to break Adam’s legendary composure is definitely an ego boost.
”There is no dress code or anything,” Adam says. “Just wear whatever makes you feel comfortable.”
“And makes me look good, too, I guess,” Kris says. Surely he can do a little flirting of his own. This is supposed to be a date, after all.
Being with Adam gives Kris this indescribable, exhilarating feeling. He feels different when he’s with Adam, stronger, wittier and surer, like he can do anything he puts his mind to. It’s addictive. Everything seems easy and clear, and he feels so alive, his blood vibrates with energy in his veins. Never before has he ever had the courage to flirt with guys he thought were out of his league, let alone flirt with someone like Adam, while he’s in his bedroom, half-naked and wet.
It’s all Adam’s doing. He looks at Kris like he’s sexy, extraordinary, and mysterious, and he makes Kris believe it, too.
“Well, that won’t be hard,” replies Adam. “You could wear an old sack of plaster with a hole for your head, and you’ll still end up looking amazing, I’m sure.”
“You flatterer, you,” Kris says jokingly. He bends over slowly, oh, he’s enjoying this a little too much! and grabs an olive green t-shirt that’s almost new. “How about this? Is it okay?”
Adam, in full fashion-guru mode, comes closer to look inside the closet.
“It’ll work, especially with a leather jacket. Do you have one around?” he asks.
“No, my days of being a leather daddy are over,” Kris deadpans.
“It’s a wonder you’re not moonlighting as a comic,” Adam says dryly. Kris snorts. Adam crouches to go through Kris’s jeans. “Don’t worry, we’ll ask Tommy for one of his, you two are about the same size.”
Yeah, sure. Like Kris is ever going to ask Tommy for anything. “I don’t think so,” he says.
“Don’t be shy, he won’t mind,” says Adam. “He has, like, two thousand of them. He denies it, but I’m pretty sure he has a leather fetish.” Digging deeper, he pulls out the oldest pair of jeans Kris owns. “A-ha!” They’re soft and so worn-out that they’re almost grey instead of light blue. “These are terrific.”
“And they also barely fit me anymore,” Kris retorts. “They’re so tight they’ll cut off my circulation.”
Adam blinks slowly and looks at him blankly.
“That means I’m not wearing them,” Kris clarifies. Adam’s brow furrows like he doesn’t see the problem. Kris shakes his head resolutely.
“Fine!” Adam says. “Be that way. But they would have looked great with the jacket.”
“That’s totally irrelevant; I already told you, I’m not asking Tommy to lend me a jacket, Adam.”
“If you’re shy, I can do the actual asking. In fact, I’ll call him right now so he’ll bring the jacket down when we pick him up.” He puts the green t-shirt down absently and picks up a white one.
Kris freezes and stares at him, a heavy lump settling in the pit of his stomach.
“Tommy’s coming?” he chokes out.
“Yeah. He called while you were in the shower. He said he had no plans tonight, so I invited him along.” He turns around when Kris stays quiet, and his eyes turn suspicious as soon as he takes a look at Kris’s face. “Why? Is that a problem?”
“No!” Kris hurries to say, “of course not!”
He turns around and starts going through his underwear drawer; it requires his utmost concentration to locate a pair of clean boxers after all.
God, how could he be so stupid! He’d been thinking about asking Adam out for so long, he just assumed… His face heats up with embarrassment; he hopes it’ll pass before he has to turn around and face Adam.
“Kris?” Adam calls. Kris doesn’t turn around-he’s not ready yet-he just makes a humming noise and keeps on rummaging through the drawer. Adam calls again, softer this time. “Kris?”
Kris considers running to the bathroom, saying that he needs to get dressed, but a hand on his shoulder stops his conflicted fidgeting. It’s warm, but it still makes him shudder.
“What’s wrong?” Adam asks. “You didn’t want me to invite Tommy?” And isn’t this awesome? Now, on top of everything else, Kris is feeling guilty for making Adam worry.
“It’s nothing, Adam, honestly,” he says.
“Don’t lie to me.” Adam shakes his head, looking disappointed and just a bit angry. “You suck at it, and it’s embarrassing to watch, baby,” he says, squeezing Kris’s shoulder. Kris finds himself smiling, because even when he’s annoyed with Kris, Adam can’t help but look adorable.
Reluctantly, he raises his head and looks up, and the earnest, worried look in Adam’s eyes breaks him open.
“It’s just that-I thought-that, maybe…” Kris closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Ithoughtitwasadate,” he blurts out hurriedly.
Adam takes a step back, looking shocked, and takes his warm, comforting hand with him. Kris’s heart stutters and stops.
“What?” Adam looks perplexed and tense, as if he’s about to flee. Kris doesn’t like where this conversation is going at all.
“It’s just a misunderstanding, okay?” he says, placating, trying to do damage control. “It’s not a big deal.”
Adam licks his lips, forehead creasing. “But…you’re not…I mean, you thought I invited you to the party as…a date?”
Adam ends the question in an incredulous-sounding high note. A sharp, ice-cold feeling stabs Kris in the stomach. This is not how he had imagined this day would go.
“I just didn’t realize you and Tommy were…” He can’t finish the sentence, though this does explain a lot of things, like Adam’s happiness when Tommy is around, for example. “It was an honest mistake, I’m sorry.”
Adam stares at him unblinking. Then he says, voice hoarse, “We’re not together. Tommy and I. We’re not dating, I mean.”
Kris doesn’t even know what to feel anymore, but his lips still curl a little bit at that. Because this is good news, isn’t it? This is great! This means he and Adam can still give it a shot! But when Kris takes a step closer to him, Adam steps back.
And he’s not smiling.
“I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
Kris frowns. “Why not?”
“We work together, Kris. It’s just-not a good idea.”
Kris raises an eyebrow. Well, that’s obviously bullshit. “We don’t exactly have the most complicated working relationship.” He searches Adam’s eyes to gauge his reaction, but Adam looks away. “The building is almost complete, anyway,” Kris says. “In three weeks it’ll be over, and we won’t have to see each other for work anymore.”
Adam shakes his head resolutely. Kris pushes. “Tell me what the real problem is.”
“We’re friends, Kris. I don’t want to fuck that up.”
Kris snorts. “That’s not the reason, and you know it. Tell me why, Adam.”
Adam puts his hands over his eyes, pressing down. “I’m not ready, okay?”
“Ready for what?”
Adam lowers his hands and looks Kris right in the eye. “I’m not ready to start a new relationship. Even casual is complicated for me right now. I think the stuff with Brad broke me, or something. I need more time.”
“That’s bullshit,” Kris says, angry.
“What?”
“If you’re not interested in me; fine. If I’m not your type I can accept that. Hell, I can work with that. I won’t even mention the way you were looking at me a moment ago, like you wanted to tear off this towel and throw me on the bed.” Adam flinches and blushes a little, and Kris finds himself growing bolder. He was right. “But don’t tell me you’re still in love with Brad, because we both know that’s not true.”
Kris has no idea where these words are coming from, but it looks like he has even more.
“It’s been weeks since the last time you mentioned him to me-other than that lunch you guys had last week, which you said was spent talking about his work and his boyfriend anyway. You’re over him, Adam, and you know it.”
“Since when are you such an expert on me?” Adam sputters, annoyed. “How come you know how I feel better than I do?”
“It’s not like I’m making it up. You talk to me more than you talk to anyone. For months now, you’ve been talking to me about everything from your clothes to you family to-to your sex life! You don’t exactly have a filter.” He pauses. “So yeah, I’d like to think that after all that-I do know how you feel.”
Adam sneers. “Funny that you mention this, because the truth is, I have no idea how you feel. This `knowing about each other´ thing is supposed to go both ways, but I know nothing about you.” He crosses his arms over his chest, chin raised stubbornly. ”You don’t talk. You never tell me a fucking thing about your past. Every time I ask you something about your family or your friends, you close up like a clam, and you change the subject.”
Kris feels his chest constrict, breathing growing harder by the second. He tries not to hear the coldness in Adam’s voice, he’s just lashing out because Kris sprung this on him, but of course it doesn’t work.
“Aren’t you going to deny it?” Adam asks, vicious.
“No,” Kris says and looks down to avoid seeing Adam’s smug and ugly smile. He wishes he hadn’t left the bed this morning. He wants this whole thing to be a bad dream.
He hates fighting with Adam.
“Damn right you aren’t. Because it’s the truth.” Adam slinks closer, until he has Kris trapped between his body and the wall. “You don’t get to be all high and mighty and tell me I’m hiding. I’m being honest here, more so than you are. At least I share what I feel with you, whether you believe it or not. You just keep everyone away. It’s no wonder that you can’t understand.” He pauses to take a deep breath, but his eyes don’t soften at all. “I’m scared because I gave my heart to someone, and he crushed it. I’m as available right now as I can afford to be. But you- you’re not there at all.”
He makes a dismissive sound.
“You don’t trust your friends with the tiniest part of your life. So fuck you, Kris Allen. Fuck you and your holier-than-thou attitude.”
He turns his back to Kris and walks towards the door. Kris makes himself speak, because he has a feeling that if Adam walks out now, this will be it for their friendship, Adam won’t even look back. And he wants Adam to understand, even if it won’t change his mind.
His voice trembles, but he pushes on regardless. “Not everybody has the same joyful past you do, Adam. Some people just want to forget where they came from, what made them the way they are now. Maybe they don’t want to carry what they had and didn’t have with them. Maybe they just want to start fresh, okay?”
Adam freezes at the door, listening, his hands fisted by his sides.
“My life has been kind of complicated, and I’m not used to sharing. It doesn’t come easy to me. But that doesn’t mean the parts I did share were any less real.”
His voice doesn’t tremble anymore. This is probably the first time he’s been able to talk about this subject to someone more or less coherently. “I’m sorry if that wasn’t enough for you.”
Kris waits with bated breath for Adam to react, but when he does move, Adam just opens the door and steps out without a word.
NEXT PART