Kiss the Beautiful Boy: A Burning Man Story (Part 2 of 2)
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Author: Idahophoenix
Beta: sweet_poeia (who is a goddess of grammar and guru of characterization)
Pairings: Adam/Brad, Adam/Kris
Rating: R
Word Count: 12,233
Warnings: Homophobic speech/actions, drug use, slash!
A/N: This is a work of fiction; for more information about Burning Man see links at end of post.
Summary: Adam is sad. Mushrooms help. So does Kris.
Part II
When Adam woke up the next morning, Brad was already gone.
Adam lay there for a moment, just feeling the emptiness, the heaviness in his stomach and throat.
Then he looked around the van. Shit! It was a mess. Brad had clearly done some sort of epic tornado action as he left, and aside from the not-to-be-mentioned condition of the blankets and sheets, the unusually practical set of plastic drawers they’d bought together just for this trip were all pulled open. Brad had taken as many of his things as he could carry, and Adam’s clothes and costumes were strewn amongst random bits of glitter and protein bars and granola that spilled into the crevices of the van floor.
No fairy tale indeed. It was just like Brad to take action quickly and ruthlessly once he was clear on something, and typical that Adam was left managing the aftermath. Adam’s mood gradually shifted from an aching sense of loss to fury.
Oh yeah, and he had to pee. Adam threw on a pair of his loosest, most comfortable desert pants, an old black tee-shirt and sneakers sans socks. He pulled on sunglasses and opened the van door. The whole gang had set up the area for maximum desert comfort. Old sofas were placed in a circle, with card tables in the middle covered with a variety of cooking utensils, lamps and camp stoves. Alisan stood in the center of the camp, stirring oatmeal in a large pot and humming. She looked up as Adam emerged from the van.
“Hi honey-bun,” she said, with a look of compassion that Adam just couldn’t take right that minute. “You want some breakfast? I have coffee, and oatmeal’s just about done.”
“Gotta pee,” Adam mumbled ungraciously as he stumbled off towards the porta-potties. On the way over, he passed Cassidy, who was just about to climb up onto his stilts.
“Hey sweetie,” Cassidy said. “Brad told me the news. Are you ok?”
“Fuckin’ Brad! Did he go out with a megaphone and announce to everyone that he dumped me?” Adam growled.
“No, no. It wasn’t like that at all...he actually seemed kind of torn up. But, um, Adam, he’s going to be staying with me for the rest of the Burn.”
“That’s just great, Cassidy. So Brad is already making up to you, and you’re doing your usual good-guy, take care of everyone thing, and he’s just eating up the attention. Well, screw that. Personally, I plan to enjoy my splendid solitude.”
“Hey, you know I’m not taking sides. This is kind of weird for all of us. Anyhow, Adam, if you want to talk, you know I’m here.”
“I just want to fucking pee.”
“Ok, Princess. Go pee.” And maddeningly, Cassidy gave Adam a meltingly understanding look and kissed him on the cheek.
Adam harrumphed and continued on to the porta-potties where, blissfully alone at last, he peed.
___________________
Washing his hands at the table of lotions and hand sanitizers set up by Porta-Pottie Pigs Camp, Adam tried to shake off his mood. He really didn’t want to alienate all of his friends. The thing was, he needed a moment to catch his breath. To remember again what it felt like to be just him - not part of the circus that always surrounded the Cheeks and Adam show.
Oh, but god, Adam sort of loved that circus, with its late night dramas at the dance clubs, in-jokes and constant chaos of creativity. And even more, he loved the part that no one else ever saw. He loved when Brad woke up in the morning and made Adam breakfast, fussed over the damn cat with his sass turned on low, or late at night when Brad stalked around the apartment, genuinely pissed at the state of politics in their fine land or vulnerable after having been turned down at another audition. This was when Adam would gather him up into his arms and just rock him, humming a soothing tune until Brad settled into his lap.
Crap! This kind of thinking was not helping Adam at all. It’s a new day, Adam Lambert, he told himself sternly. Get your shit together and make the most of it. Adam continued to lecture himself as he headed back to camp. By the time he got there, he had his game face on.
“Well hello, Sunshine,” Alisan cautiously greeted him. “Ready for some breakfast?”
“I could do with some coffee.”
Adam made himself comfortable on one of the couches, and Alisan handed him a mug of steaming coffee, and a bowl of oatmeal with raisins, walnuts and brown sugar.
“Nice service they have at this place,” Adam gave Alisan a wan smile.
“Just don’t get used to it, Bud. This is a one-time, morning-after special to welcome you to the world of the suddenly single. A world I have recently learned to know and love.”
Adam nodded. It was true; Alisan was just now finding her stride again after breaking up with Claude, or, as he and Brad had lovingly referred to him, Toad-Boy.
“Hey, don’t even compare my situation to yours, Alisan. Claude was an ass-hole and never deserved to be near your fine self. Brad is….well Brad. I thought he was a keeper.”
“Ah honey, he is. But maybe just not in the boyfriend kind of way. You’ll get through this. You’ve got so many great things coming to you Adam, I can just feel it. ” Alisan settled down on the couch next to Adam and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Do not try to be reasonable with me today, Mistress Alisan. I am so not there! I feel absolutely gutted, when I don’t want to kill his sorry ass. Do you realize what a pig-sty Brad left in the van? And I bet he expects me just to clean it up and then make nice with him tonight when we all go to watch the Man burn.”
“Hmm, from the noises you two were making last night, it’s a little difficult for me to believe that Brad made that mess alone.”
“God! Does a man have no privacy?” Adam muttered as he finished up the oatmeal. Alisan was about to reply, when they were interrupted by a man in a white rabbit suit, who hopped into the middle of the circle of couches. The White Rabbit tugged Alisan’s hand urgently and whispered, “I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date.”
Tumbling in after the White Rabbit were a Cheshire Cat, a giant smile drawn across her face, red hair streaming from beneath blue ears, a long blue tail attached to her leather shorts, and Alice-in-Wonderland, complete with tattoo sleeve and a very mini blue dress. Adam took a moment to appreciate Alice’s indisputable hotness.
“Good morning, fellow Burners. We come bearing gifts,” the Cheshire Cat announced, placing a tall Mad-Hatter’s hat on Adam’s head and handing Alisan a crown of hearts.
“And we bring victuals to get you through your journey in Wonderland,” Alice stated, opening up a package of tinfoil that contained what appeared to be stuffed mushrooms.
The White Rabbit nodded. “One bite will make you taller, another make you smaller.”
“Uh, no thanks,” Alisan demurred, and at the very same moment Adam said, “Perfect! Yes, thank you!” Alice gave a swirl of approval as Adam popped two of the mushrooms into his mouth and started chewing.
“Adam, be careful!” Alisan grabbed his hand as he reached out for a third.
“Piss off, Alisan, I’m a big boy.”
“Uh, son, you might want to be sure to drink some water with that and stay in the shade,” said the Cheshire Cat, suddenly looking more like a concerned little sister than a slightly mad cat. “Them ‘shrooms are kind of strong.”
God save me from fussing women, Adam thought, then grinned in spite of himself when Alice blew him a kiss and winked.
“Dawgs, we’re late for that date,” announced the White Rabbit, grabbing the hands of Alice and the Cat.
“And we’re outta here dudes!” sang the Cat. “You all take good care of yourselves.” The three clambered over the sofas, climbed onto their playa bikes, and wheeled away. Adam watched them disappear into the distance and settled the hat firmly on his head.
“I’m going to take a stroll in the desert,” he told Alisan as he started to get up. Alisan pushed him back down.
“Whoa! Just a minute mister. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve just eaten a handful of hallucinogenics and they’ve barely had a chance to hit your system yet,” Alisan said. “Wandering Black Rock City by yourself doesn’t sound so smart to me. Why don’t you just mellow out here at camp. I don’t mind hanging around.”
“Alisan, my poppet, I feel just fine. In fact, I don’t feel anything at all. All I feel is the need to get the hell out of here and take a walk. And, by the way, I so do not need a babysitter! Don’t even think of coming with me.” Adam gave Alisan a mock glare, stood up, and started walking.
Alisan ran after him and grabbed his arm: “Ok, Adam. No babysitter. I promise. But will you at least get yourself set up for a day in the desert? If you’re too damn stupid to do it for yourself, do it for me or I’m going to waste the rest of my day worrying about you, and believe me, I have much better things to do.”
“Honey, you are so co-dependent,” Adam said and petted her head.
“Adam Mitchel Lambert, don’t you dare use 12-step language on me. That works when I’m fucking wrong, but I’m not this time. So just humor me.”
Adam shrugged. He guessed he could wait a couple of minutes. Alisan went back to his van, opened the door and rummaged around. She emerged with a large water bottle, a protein bar, sun screen, a bandana and goggles. She tied the bandana around Adam’s throat (fucking Boy Scout he muttered), stuck the protein bar in his back pocket, took his Mad-Hatter's hat off for a moment so that she could slip his goggles down around his neck, and gently slathered sun screen on his freckled arms and face, then handed him his water.
Adam looked down at her. For some reason his eyes were stinging. He reached up to touch his face and wipe his eyes. He felt wetness on his cheeks. What was that? Oh, he was crying--again. When the hell did he get so emo? It must be the damn sunscreen in his eyes.
“You know I fucking love you, Alisan,” he said.
“Yeah, I know.” She nodded. “But, Adam, you do know that you’re kind of a mess today, don’t you? A very pretty mess, but nevertheless a mess.”
“You really do know how to sweet talk a boy,” Adam gathered himself and added, “Well, I’m off to see the Wizard.”
“Ok. You be safe on that yellow brick road, Scarecrow,” Alisan called to him as he walked away. Adam stopped for a moment and turned, did a quick little Scarecrow/Fyero dance step in Alisan’s honor, and set off for the day’s adventure.
_______________________________
Adam had spent the last few hours with the art on the Playa. In the center stood the Man, arms at his side, waiting to be burned. To his right, five giant steel figures reached out in homage in front of a towering oil well. To his left, people were walking through a great mother serpent, complete with lamps that would burn brightly at night.
A small, rational part of Adam recognized that these giant art pieces represented months of imagining, planning and labor by teams of Burners, but what he really felt was that a spacecraft had randomly dropped these huge and oddly compelling artifacts from an alien planet …each one laden with a special message just for him.
Right now Adam stood in front of a maze of tiny mirrors-images of the sand, the sky, the people walking by, a man playing a burning tuba, three giggling men with arms entwined, a woman trailing a long yellow scarf, more sky, a pirate ship on wheels, the sun, his face, his eyes, his eyes, his eyes now blue, now green, now light and sun, a string of dragon kites in emerald green, turquoise, deep purple, his hat, his eyes again. His mind automatically catalogued the competing thumpa thumpa thumpa of music blasting from this camp and that art car. Goldfrappe’s music floated to him briefly, then Prince smacked his lips in a celebration of kissing, and for God's sake, John Denver was trying to get home down country roads, and, ah yes, now Muse: “Glaciers melting in the dead of night/and superstars sucked into the supermassive/Supermassive Black Hole.”
Adam hummed to himself. He felt his whole body humming. He loved the way music filled him to the core, deep down into that empty space that Brad had wrenched open inside of him. Everything was bright and clear and connected, and it meant something. But what? He reached out to touch the colors in the mirror, seeming almost to hold his own hand for a moment. He looked at his wrist. He would get a tattoo. An Eye of Horus to remind him of this moment, of the mystery of looking into his own eyes and knowing that the answers were there, just out of reach, but definitely there.
Odd. The colors in the mirror were dimming - everything bathed in a soft, mist of grey. He could no longer see sky or sun or people or art, or even his own face. In fact, he couldn’t see much of anything at all.
It was then that Adam became aware of the environment around him. He turned away from the mirrors. Wind whipped across the desert floor, gritty sand flew into his eyes, his mouth, his ears, and all around him the air was white with dust, a fine powder that enveloped everything. He shook himself.
Pay attention, Lambert, he told himself sternly. You are in the middle of a dust storm. He pulled the goggles up over his eyes and the bandana over his nose and mouth. Thank God for fussing women, he thought, as he took a long drink from his water bottle.
The wind was getting damn uncomfortable.
A small, practical voice in his mind, which sounded disturbingly like Neil, informed him that the smart thing to do would be to hunker down and wait out the storm. Adam thought about that for a moment.
A gust of wind swooped the Mad Hatter Hat off his head and out onto the desert floor. He followed the hat out into the maelstrom.
__________________________
Adam held both hands out in front of him and moved through the blinding dust. A large woman in a lavender tutu nearly mowed him down as she peddled her bicycle against the wind. “Sorry!” she yelled back to him. Then, “Watch for falling houses!”
Adam stopped in his tracks, trying to make sense of the comment. It became clear when a moment later a woman in a tall black witch’s hat peddled by singing the Wicked Witch’s theme song: “Na na na na nana Na na nana na! I’ll get you, and your little dog too!”
Where’s the damn yellow brick road when you need it, thought Adam, suddenly feeling very exposed and alone. He wished Brad were with him. Brad loved these wild desert storms that regularly tore through Black Rock City.
“We’re in the Sahara,” he had whispered to Adam during a white out last year. “Any step we take could land us in quick sand or in Lawrence of Arabia’s arms. Shall we dance?” And so Adam had pulled Brad into the wind in a mad, twirling dance that had ended with them both collapsed, legs and arms tangled together, hidden behind a massive dragon sculpture and making out as if they were discovering each other’s lips for the first time.
Adam shook himself again. Love fuckin’ hurts, he thought. And then, of course, he couldn’t shake the words. Love hurts, love hurts, love hurts, playing over and over in his mind complete with maudlin swelling music. What the hell was his life going to be without Brad?
Desolate, Adam thought. That’s what life will be.
He stumbled forward.
He really needed to find some shelter. He should have listened to Neil’s advice. He hated it when Neil was right. In what world was it fair that the younger brother was the smart one? Where was Neil? Oh, that’s right. It was last year when Neil had come to the Burn. Damn, he loved Neil. Although who the hell could understand him? Who but Neil would miss most of the music and dancing, ensconced in some political debate with a gaggle of grey-haired Burners about the electoral college and Halliburton. Well, Neil had found time to complain about how he hadn’t succeeded in hooking up with any girls, which really, how could you go to the Burn and not hook up with a girl? Hell, Adam wasn’t even interested and it seemed that every third woman at the Burn let him know, subtly or not, that the door was open. Oh, well, that was Neil. At least his baby bro had known how to dress for the Burn - fishnets in the desert. Adam had to give him that. Neil was awesome. Irritating, but awesome.
The dust was getting annoying, sneaking in around the edges of the bandana and into every pore, gritty between his teeth.
He really kind of needed Neil now. Neil would have taken ‘shrooms with him and they’d be arguing about something stupid and he wouldn’t be lost in the middle of nowhere.
Why wasn’t Neil here now?
Oh yeah. Neil hadn’t come this year because the theme was American Dream, and Neil said he couldn’t go to anything with that theme, and that as far as he was concerned the American Dream died when Bush became president.
So here was Adam. Without his baby brother.
Without Brad.
Without anyone.
Alone.
Peacock, Lambert, Peacock! Adam reminded himself. Stand up straight and walk.
Hell no. Fuckin’ Strut.
So he did. Trusting that if he just moved forward-one confident step, then another, and again, forgetting fear, forgetting grief, forgetting all the could-have-beens and should-have-dones, he would somehow get to where he needed to go.
“Shit!” Adam exclaimed, as he tripped over a piece of pipe sticking up from the ground, stubbed his toe and fell into the side of some sort of wooden structure. He wondered if the toe was broken. He should have worn his damn boots.
Adam looked around. The dust was clearing a little, and he could see pieces of wood thrusting up from the ground at odd angles, forming strangely slanted walls that in some places leaned in on one another. Oh I see, Adam thought. The temple.
This year the temple was designed by a group of feminist artists and was nothing like the various pagoda structures of previous years. It was somehow more organic, a confusion of tunnels and hidden spaces all leading to a central hall lined with benches. People were sprawled across the benches and on the ground, sheltering from the storm. The wood walls were covered with messages, poetry, passionate promises or photos dedicated to old loves, dead relatives, favorite pets, lost causes, and dreams.
It was cool.
Adam liked it.
And blessedly, he was protected from the wind; but there were way too many people. Adam just wanted a little space to himself, so he ducked into a side passageway. How long had he been awake, anyway? It seemed like about a million years since he’d crawled out of the van back at camp. He just wanted a place to curl up and remember the way colors looked way back at the wall of mirrors before everything went dusty white and grey. Oh yes, and maybe get some sleep.
Then he heard it: a guitar strumming and low voice singing. Adam might not have recognized the words if he hadn’t know the lyrics so well.
This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating in a most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today
For here
Am I sitting in a tin can
Far above the world
Planet Earth is blue
And there’s nothing I can do
Adam didn’t like intruding, and he almost never sang unless invited; other singers tended to get all self-conscious and quiet around him. And while Adam didn’t mind being the center of attention, he also hated interrupting another artist. But he just couldn’t help himself. This boy was singing David Fuckin’Bowie.
So Adam sang out:
Though I'm past one hundred thousand miles
I'm feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go
Tell your wife I love her very much she knows
The guitar playing stopped and Adam was quiet too. A few moments later, he sang out:
Ground Control to Major Tom
Your circuit's dead, there's something wrong
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me Major Tom?
As Adam sang, the guitar playing picked up again, complex counter-harmonies to Adam’s clean, clear melody. And then an answer:
Here am I floating round my tin can
Far above the Moon
Planet Earth is blue
This followed by a snort of laughter. Adam could almost hear the shrug.
“Well, come on in. I guess I’m not alone in my tin can anymore.”
Adam stooped down, the entrance low for his tall frame, and stepped into a small chamber which was lit by a couple of flashlights and a headlamp propped up against the wall. He could vaguely make out the shape of a young guy sitting cross legged on the ground, a guitar on his lap.
“Hey,” said Adam.
“Hey.”
“Mind if I sit?”
“No problem man.”
Adam slid down to the ground and leaned against the wall across from the guitar player. It felt great to be out of the wind, and the dark was soothing. Adam closed his eyes for a moment and settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence. Maybe he’d just go to sleep for a bit. Then his stomach growled, loudly. The guitar player laughed and asked, “Are you hungry? I’ve got some beef jerky and an apple I could share.”
Beef jerky and an apple-mana from the gods. And offered in a voice with just the most delicious little southern lilt to it. For this, Adam was willing to open his eyes. He looked across the room.
“No fuckin’ way!” Adam said.
“Ok, ok. I get it, you’re a vegetarian or a vegan or an apple worshipper or something, right? You know, you can Just Say No.”
Adam laughed.
“No. Not the food. It’s you. You! You’re Plaid Boy! Uh….you know, from Arkansas. Thunderdome. Brad. You wore plaid, he didn’t."
“Oh, you saw the fight,” Plaid Boy said in a neutral voice.
Words tumbled from Adam “You know, there has to be some kind of really amazing alignment of the stars today or something, because things just keep happening. Alice in Wonderland. Wizard of Oz. Dust Storms. Mirrors. Eyes of Horace. Wicked Witches. You. David Bowie. Mushrooms. You know what I mean?”
“Hmm. Mushrooms,” replied Plaid Boy with that crooked grin Adam had noticed the night before. And then, “Hey, it sounds like you know Brad?”
Adam raised an eyebrow: “Yep. I know the charming Cheeks. I know him well.”
“Cool. I liked him.”
“Uh huh. Fucking everyone’s gotta love them some sparkly Brad.” Adam spit the words with more venom than humor.
“Ok. I think I’m missing something here.”
“Shit. Sorry. It’s not you, it’s me." Adam held out his hand. “So, let me start again. Hello. My name is Adam.”
“Um, hi. I’m Kris.” Kris shook Adam’s hand.
“Wow, you’ve got great guitar player fingers. I’ve always liked that . Me-I can’t play anything. Not a guitar, not a piano, hell not really even a triangle. It’s a bummer.”
“Sure you could. But it doesn’t much matter when you have a voice like that.”
“Thanks. Uh, but about that food? I’d really like to take you up on that offer. I think I’m about to swoon here or something, and that would really fuck with my macho image.”
“Yeah, definitely wouldn’t want to mess that up for you.”
Kris pulled out a jack knife, cut the apple and handed half to Adam, along with some beef jerky. Adam took a bite. The moisture and sweet tang of the apple and the salty bite of the jerky were an explosion of flavors in Adam’s mouth. He couldn’t help but moan slightly. This was the best damn food he’d ever eaten in his life. Really. Ever.
Kris lifted the other half of the fruit to his lips, took a moment to breath in the earthy fresh apple smell and started to eat. Between listening to Kris talk with that slight southern lilt and watching him lick his lips, Adam was still contemplating some serious swoonage.
As a matter fact, time was not moving at its normal pace. Every moment was impossibly long, but also rushing by fast. Adam could swear that if he reached out his hand, he’d be able to individually touch each molecule of the air around him. It could be all those hallucinogens you scarfed this morning, said an inner voice that still sounded annoyingly like Neil.
This is so not all about the ‘shrooms, Neil, he thought. So just shut up!
Adam looked around. It was kind of frustrating. The lighting wasn’t really right. The flashlights were pointed to the ceiling, and Plaid Boy was half in shadow. Adam had a feeling that he really needed to see Plaid Boy…no he had a name now…Kris…he needed to see Kris’s face.
Adam picked up one of the flashlights and aimed it right at Kris.
“Whoa.” Kris raised his hands to his eyes, covering his face. “What are you doing?”
“I just want to see you.”
Kris kept his hands over his face for a moment and turned his face away. Adam lowered the flashlight so it wasn’t aimed right into Kris’s eyes.
“Hey, hey it’s ok. I won’t bite. I promise.”
Then Kris looked straight at Adam.
“Shit!” said Adam. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“Um. Would you believe I ran into a door?”
No. No. Adam wouldn’t believe that. Kris’s left eye was almost swollen shut and surrounded by plum-colored bruising. His cheek was swollen, too.
“You’ve been hurt.” Adam’s voice was flat.
“Yep.”
“I didn’t realize you guys actually hit each other that hard,” Adam said.
“What?”
“You and Brad. Last night. Big fight. People clapping, only one man left alive etcetera etcetera.”
“Oh, that. No. Brad didn’t do this.”
“Ok. That makes sense. Brad would be glad because, well, you know he wouldn’t want to mess up your face. He gets kind of enthusiastic sometimes - but he’s very careful about leaving marks anywhere they can be seen.”
“And you know this how?” asked Kris. He picked up his guitar and began idly strumming chords and bits of melody.
Adam leaned forward
“Brad is my boyfriend. Well, was really. Until last night. Then we broke up. Well, to tell the truth, he broke up with me. Which sucks. I’ve been dumped. What you have sitting across from you is a pitiful dumpee.”
Kris looked up. "Hey, I’m sorry. It wasn’t about the fight was it?”
“Well, not the fight, really. Not even that kiss. Oh yes, I haven’t forgotten that kiss. It was really more about gazelles and peacocks and…” Adam found the words tumbling out of his mouth. Kris was easy to talk to. He didn’t really demand anything. Not like most of Adam’s friends, who, god love them, had something to say about absolutely everything. Friends who knew him well would see his pain and feel they had to do something, which would just make Adam uncomfortable. And they might even tell Brad. Well screw that. Adam was going to just do fine. He didn’t need their sympathy. Or worse yet, Brad’s.
What he needed was this. Just to talk and to be heard. Really, truth be told, to hear himself.
“You know, I think I’ve spent too much time listening to everyone else,” Adam said. “Life gets so busy, and I’ve gotta admit I can get a little cray cray sometimes. You know, caught in the fantasy, always trying to find that fuckin’ big break. Playing with feathers. Dieting. Gossip. Drama. That kind of thing.”
“Maybe it’s really about the singing,” Kris said.
“Yeah, you’re right. In the end it always comes back to the singing. That’s the sweet spot in the middle of it all, isn’t it?”
“Yep. Music always makes sense.”
“It does, it does, you’re so right. But to really sing, you’ve gotta live a little, to feel. Experience things, you know? Like you - you stepped right into that ring last night, center-fuckin’-stage- even though it was clear you didn’t know what the hell you were doing.”
“That obvious?”
“Sure, but that’s what was so great. There’s gotta be nothin’ like that in Arkansas, right? But you went for it, anyway. And now you have a black eye and you’re sitting here all mysterious and beautiful, like you’ve really been through something. I’ve never had a black-eye-well, only the kind you get when eyeliner smears -- but anyhow, I don’t get myself in situations where I get hit. Mostly I look too big for your average asshole to take on, but the truth is I have kind of a horror of being hit. I mean then I’d have to hit back and they’d hit me again and, well, it always seems better just to make a joke or a quick exit. But now you know what it’s like, and you could write about it or play it in your songs or whatever, and there’d be that grittiness of truth in it, like Johnny Cash or Nick Cave.”
“Uh, Adam. Just so you know. Getting a black eye? Highly overrated.” There was something in Kris’s voice that made Adam stop.
Adam took a breath.
“Sorry. I’m getting a little carried away with myself. I do that sometimes.”
“It’s ok.”
“No. It really isn’t.” Adam looked at Kris. “So enough about me. What do you think about me?”
Kris snorted a laugh.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Adam said. “Crap, I’m actually feeling nervous right now” Kris looked a question at him. “Why? Well, if you ask me, Kris, and I know you would if I’d let you get a word in edgewise, I think it’s because I want to ask you what the Fuck happened to you. And I’m scared you won’t tell me and, well, that would sort of suck.”
“Why would that suck?” Kris asked. “Why is it so important? Lots of people get black eyes for lots of reasons. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
“Here’s the thing. Someone hurt you. I can see it. And not just on the outside. And if you can’t tell me about it, well, then it means you’re not feeling safe. Not even here-floating in this tin can.”
A palpable silence settled between Adam and Kris. Only the sound of their breathing and the drumming in the distance.
Kris set down his guitar and cleared his throat. “Adam. Can I try something?”Adam looked across at Kris who was leaning forward, looking like a very determined puppy dog, big brown eyes liquid, lower lip protruding just a little.
“Oh, about now…you could probably try just about anything.”
Kris nodded once, solemnly, and scooted across the floor until he was sitting, cross legged, right in front of Adam.
“What I’d like to try is this.” Kris moved his face towards Adam.
Adam suddenly had an almost uncontrollable urge to giggle. Crap, Lambert, not now. This is important.
But, but…. Kris looked so damned earnest, lips pursed and eyes squinched. Stop it! Adam told himself sternly. This is not the first bi-curious boy to kiss you. Take it like a man.
And Kris’s lips met his. Adam opened his mouth slightly, and his teeth bumped into Kris’s teeth with an awkward click.
Adam pulled Kris in a little closer. Might as well give it the old college try, the irritating narrator in his head continued. Adam’s tongue felt dry and, oh god, so did Kris’s. Adam moved his tongue experimentally and tasted salt. Lots of salt. Kris pulled away with a sharp intake of breath. That, thought Adam, was one truly amateur kiss. He’d had better kisses on stage with Elphaba in Wicked.
“Well,” said Kris
“Salty,” said Adam.
“Yes, very.” And Kris started to shake.
Oh god, thought Adam. What have I done to this beautiful, hurt boy? And then he heard it: the bubbling sound of full-body laughter.
“Well, that’s a relief,” said Kris. “Because I was wondering what I was going to tell Katy and how my family was going to react. I mean, we have the wedding song picked out, and all the invitations sent, and my mom cried when I told her we were getting married, and I’m already making payments on the ring, and the pronoun in all of my songs is she, and, well it just seemed like life was going to get really complicated after last night. After Brad.”
“Hmmph” said Adam, and frowned. Wouldn’t you know that Plaid Boy would choose now to get chatty?
“Oh, jeez, Adam, I’m sorry. I mean, it isn’t you, it’s me. I kind of thought you’d be ok with a kiss. You did call me, um, beautiful. Anyhow, I thought maybe if we just kissed, I would know and I could figure things out from there.”
“Glad to be of service.”
Adam was so not glad to be of service. Friggin’ Brad and now this.
Kris looked up at Adam.
“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” Kris gently touched Adam’s cheek. “This is going to sound weird, but you do know that you’re awesome, right? And you just seem kind of, well, kissable. But I guess it was just a performance high kind of thing last night. Turns out, I’m not gay. So.”
“So.” Adam paused to gather his thoughts “So, Kris, now you know. Good for you. And really, congratulations on the wedding and everything. But I’ve gotta go. I have a show tonight. Gonna sing the national anthem.” Maybe it wasn’t his best exit line, but it would have to do. And wouldn’t the Star Spangled Banner just cap his day off perfectly? Adam started to get up to leave.
“Adam, um, could you wait just a little?”
Adam was about to say that he really had to get going when, almost inaudibly, Kris added, “I’ve really had sort of a crap 24 hours.”
Adam settled back against the wall.
“Ok. Tell me about it,” he said.
And Kris did. He told the story of how he had gone back to camp from Thunder Dome, only to find O’Reilly and Beck regaling his frat brothers with tales of the fight. How everyone in camp had been laughing and egging Kris on to tell them how it felt to be kissed by Cheeks, whether it was gross, and why he didn’t just slug Cheeks, and how Kris hadn’t said anything at all.
“Until finally Anoop told them all to just shut up.”
“Snoop?” Adam asked. “You actually have a frat brother called Snoop. God, I hope he’s at least black.”
“Not Snoop: Anoop. And he’s not black. He’s Indian-American. Wait, what does his ethnicity have to do with anything anyhow?”
“Oh, you mean Valentino. Yeah, I talked to him at the fight and liked him, Seemed like there was kind of a stand up guy hidden somewhere beneath that preppy wardrobe.”
“Do you just go around making up names for everyone?” asked Kris.
“Yeah, a lot of times I do, Plaid Boy,”
“I’m not even wearing plaid,” complained Kris.
“Nevertheless…..hey this is getting off track. What happened next?” Adam asked.
“Well, it went like this: when Anoop told them to shut up, I said, 'No, It’s ok.' And then, well, I told them what it felt like to kiss Brad.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I told them that his name was Brad, not Cheeks. And that he was funny and a hell of a lot smarter than any of them. And that the kiss- it felt good. I told them that I liked it.” Kris looked at Adam. “I know I shouldn’t really say this to you, but Adam, I told them I liked it. A lot.”
“Hey, I get it.”
“And then O’Reilly called me a fudgepacker, and Beck told me that I was no brother of his and that he’d get me thrown out of the fraternity, and then I kind of just lost it and kicked Beck in the balls.”
Adam hooted.
“I know. Probably not cool. I should have just walked away. Or at least punched him, but honest to god, I didn’t want to hurt my guitar playing hand.”
Adam was riveted. He’d never heard of anything remotely like this happening at the Burn. And Kris was, oh my god, Kris was just sort of perfect.
“Anyhow, it got kind of confusing then.” Kris went on to describe how O’Reilly punched him in the face and then a couple of the other guys from the frat house had joined in on the beating. Kris raised his shirt to show Adam bruises on his chest and gut. Adam wanted to say something or do something, but didn’t because Kris still had things to say, and Adam knew a thing or two about listening to this kind of story.
“You should have seen Beck rolling around in pain and moaning obscenities all at the same time. Oh, and Anoop kept trying to get me out of there and was shouting at the top of his voice for everyone to stop, but no one was listening, and luckily I never fell, just kind of stood there protecting my hands, and I know it’s probably not true, but. …well, the hitting seemed to go on for a long time.” Kris explained that finally a whole art car full of people in costumes had stopped, broken up the fight and offered to go find the Black Rock Rangers and to take Kris to the medical tent.
“So I just grabbed my back pack and guitar and got the hell out of there. And then I wandered, until I found the temple and it seemed, well, good. Right. I like the energy. Peaceful, you know. And I’ve been here since then.”
“You’ve been here since last night?”
“Well, I did go out to the porta-potties a couple of times.” Kris laughed.
“God, Kris. How did you manage it?”
“Well, I read the Burner Survival Guide, so I had everything I needed right with me.”
Oh. Of course Kris had read the survival guide. Adam had always meant to do that.
“Kris, you do know that this is so not ok? Right? Those guys are beyond assholes, and you could really be hurt. And SHIT, it’s not ok. Ok? “
“Ah, I’ve been hurt worse than this before. I’m from Arkansas,” Kris said, as if that was any kind of explanation.
“If you’re so ok, why’ve you been hiding out here all day?”
“It wasn’t Beck and O’Reilly I’ve been worried about. It was my Katy. But now everything really is, you know, simple again, and maybe it’s time for me to get back.”
Adam cautiously placed his hand on Kris’s arm.
“Are you sure? Because I think we should get you to the medical tent just to be sure you’re really ok, and then you can stay at our camp tonight, or we can find you somewhere else if that would be more comfortable, but you definitely shouldn’t have to see those guys.”
“No really, I’m ok,” Kris said emphatically. “And Adam, thanks. I think I’m gonna go now.”
“No problem.” Adam surprised himself by reaching out to shake Kris’s hand. It just seemed like the right thing to do.
Kris took his hand and held it for a moment. “Adam, could you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Drink some water. You’re going to get dehydrated.”
Adam, still sitting against the wall, legs crossed, shook his head. Kris was too much. But Adam opened his water bottle and took a long, thirst-quenching drink. Kris motioned to him, and Adam handed the bottle to Kris, who took a drink and set the bottle down.
“And one more favor,” Kris said. Very deliberately, facing Adam, Kris settled onto Adam’s lap.
Adam watched as Kris leaned forward. Kris’s slightly calloused fingers felt delicious running across the day’s growth of beard on Adam’s face, his neck. Adam didn’t feel remotely like laughing now.
Kris moved in to kiss Adam, his lips gentle, a little tentative. Adam pulled Kris closer and there was nothing of gentleness now. It was all urgency and tasted of desert and heat and anger and hope and sex. And they kept on kissing until it was time to stop.
They looked at each other, both a little breathless.
“Not so simple,” said Kris.
“Maybe not.” Adam ran his hand through Kris’s hair, ending with a hard tug. Kris responded with a sharp intake of breath and a guttural moan.
“Damn!” Kris pushed himself away from Adam and stood. “Look, I’ve really gotta go. This is..I mean that was…and god you…you are …or maybe I am..or we are, or something…and, well, Katy…”
Adam looked up at Kris and studied his face. Not pretty right now, with that left eye swollen, but raw and bare and beautiful. Like the desert. Kris covered his face with his hands, suddenly shy under the intense gaze.
“Hey, look at me Kris.” Steady brown eyes met Adam’s. “Fuck. You are something else. Do you even know? But it is ok for you to go now. I mean I’m fine. We’re guys, right? Sometimes we kiss. Sometimes we give each other blow jobs. Sometimes we have burping contests.”
Kris smiled.
“Here’s the thing about the Burn, Kris. Stuff happens here. And maybe you meet someone and have a moment. You know, a real moment that kind of stops time and all the bullshit for a while. And then, well, you drive back out into the world.”
Kris gave Adam a searching look.
“You’re going to be all right Plaid Boy.”
Kris nodded. “Yeah, I’ll work on that. And you, you do the same ok? ” Kris looked at his watch. How sweet, he wears a watch at the Burn, Adam thought.
“But now, Adam, I’ve really gotta get back to camp. Oh man, Anoop is going to be going out of his mind with worry, and that is not a pretty sight.”
“Ok,” said Adam. "Get along now, then.”
Kris kissed Adam in the middle of his forehead and walked away.
______________________________________________
Later that night, Adam and his family of friends stood together amidst a throng of people, all waiting to see the Man burn.
Brad started to lean into Adam. Adam gently pushed him away. Not yet; not tonight.
Lights and music pulsated across the playa. Adam swayed to the music, caught up in the wild rhythms of the night.
Alisan looked up at him.
“Hey Scarecrow, you’re looking a little better,” she said.
“I think I am. Right now, anyway. Your goggles saved my ass.”
“Now that’s a fine thing,” she said.
“So I’ve been told,” Adam replied soberly. Alisan hit him lightly on the arm.
“Well, Adam, the night is young. I’ve got my whole evening mapped out. I’m going to try and see everything tonight. What are you going to do?”
Adam looked out at the Man. In a few moments, the ceremony would begin. The Man’s arms were raising. Soon they’d be held high above his head and flames would rise up into the sky and the crowd would howl to the moon.
Adam took it all in and felt, for the first time that day, a full-hearted smile spread across his face. He turned to Alisan.
“I think I’ll sing,” said Adam. “Just sing.”
The End
For more information about Burning Man:
http://www.burningman.com/
And this is a journal entry with photos by ( l_stboy) describing fighting in Thunderdome
http://l-stboy.livejournal.com/234755.html
Feedback is my friend!
Author: Idahophoenix
Beta: sweet_poeia (who is a goddess of grammar and guru of characterization)
Pairings: Adam/Brad, Adam/Kris
Rating: R
Word Count: 12,233
Warnings: Homophobic speech/actions, drug use, slash!
A/N: This is a work of fiction; for more information about Burning Man see links at end of post.
Summary: Adam is sad. Mushrooms help. So does Kris.
Part II
When Adam woke up the next morning, Brad was already gone.
Adam lay there for a moment, just feeling the emptiness, the heaviness in his stomach and throat.
Then he looked around the van. Shit! It was a mess. Brad had clearly done some sort of epic tornado action as he left, and aside from the not-to-be-mentioned condition of the blankets and sheets, the unusually practical set of plastic drawers they’d bought together just for this trip were all pulled open. Brad had taken as many of his things as he could carry, and Adam’s clothes and costumes were strewn amongst random bits of glitter and protein bars and granola that spilled into the crevices of the van floor.
No fairy tale indeed. It was just like Brad to take action quickly and ruthlessly once he was clear on something, and typical that Adam was left managing the aftermath. Adam’s mood gradually shifted from an aching sense of loss to fury.
Oh yeah, and he had to pee. Adam threw on a pair of his loosest, most comfortable desert pants, an old black tee-shirt and sneakers sans socks. He pulled on sunglasses and opened the van door. The whole gang had set up the area for maximum desert comfort. Old sofas were placed in a circle, with card tables in the middle covered with a variety of cooking utensils, lamps and camp stoves. Alisan stood in the center of the camp, stirring oatmeal in a large pot and humming. She looked up as Adam emerged from the van.
“Hi honey-bun,” she said, with a look of compassion that Adam just couldn’t take right that minute. “You want some breakfast? I have coffee, and oatmeal’s just about done.”
“Gotta pee,” Adam mumbled ungraciously as he stumbled off towards the porta-potties. On the way over, he passed Cassidy, who was just about to climb up onto his stilts.
“Hey sweetie,” Cassidy said. “Brad told me the news. Are you ok?”
“Fuckin’ Brad! Did he go out with a megaphone and announce to everyone that he dumped me?” Adam growled.
“No, no. It wasn’t like that at all...he actually seemed kind of torn up. But, um, Adam, he’s going to be staying with me for the rest of the Burn.”
“That’s just great, Cassidy. So Brad is already making up to you, and you’re doing your usual good-guy, take care of everyone thing, and he’s just eating up the attention. Well, screw that. Personally, I plan to enjoy my splendid solitude.”
“Hey, you know I’m not taking sides. This is kind of weird for all of us. Anyhow, Adam, if you want to talk, you know I’m here.”
“I just want to fucking pee.”
“Ok, Princess. Go pee.” And maddeningly, Cassidy gave Adam a meltingly understanding look and kissed him on the cheek.
Adam harrumphed and continued on to the porta-potties where, blissfully alone at last, he peed.
___________________
Washing his hands at the table of lotions and hand sanitizers set up by Porta-Pottie Pigs Camp, Adam tried to shake off his mood. He really didn’t want to alienate all of his friends. The thing was, he needed a moment to catch his breath. To remember again what it felt like to be just him - not part of the circus that always surrounded the Cheeks and Adam show.
Oh, but god, Adam sort of loved that circus, with its late night dramas at the dance clubs, in-jokes and constant chaos of creativity. And even more, he loved the part that no one else ever saw. He loved when Brad woke up in the morning and made Adam breakfast, fussed over the damn cat with his sass turned on low, or late at night when Brad stalked around the apartment, genuinely pissed at the state of politics in their fine land or vulnerable after having been turned down at another audition. This was when Adam would gather him up into his arms and just rock him, humming a soothing tune until Brad settled into his lap.
Crap! This kind of thinking was not helping Adam at all. It’s a new day, Adam Lambert, he told himself sternly. Get your shit together and make the most of it. Adam continued to lecture himself as he headed back to camp. By the time he got there, he had his game face on.
“Well hello, Sunshine,” Alisan cautiously greeted him. “Ready for some breakfast?”
“I could do with some coffee.”
Adam made himself comfortable on one of the couches, and Alisan handed him a mug of steaming coffee, and a bowl of oatmeal with raisins, walnuts and brown sugar.
“Nice service they have at this place,” Adam gave Alisan a wan smile.
“Just don’t get used to it, Bud. This is a one-time, morning-after special to welcome you to the world of the suddenly single. A world I have recently learned to know and love.”
Adam nodded. It was true; Alisan was just now finding her stride again after breaking up with Claude, or, as he and Brad had lovingly referred to him, Toad-Boy.
“Hey, don’t even compare my situation to yours, Alisan. Claude was an ass-hole and never deserved to be near your fine self. Brad is….well Brad. I thought he was a keeper.”
“Ah honey, he is. But maybe just not in the boyfriend kind of way. You’ll get through this. You’ve got so many great things coming to you Adam, I can just feel it. ” Alisan settled down on the couch next to Adam and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Do not try to be reasonable with me today, Mistress Alisan. I am so not there! I feel absolutely gutted, when I don’t want to kill his sorry ass. Do you realize what a pig-sty Brad left in the van? And I bet he expects me just to clean it up and then make nice with him tonight when we all go to watch the Man burn.”
“Hmm, from the noises you two were making last night, it’s a little difficult for me to believe that Brad made that mess alone.”
“God! Does a man have no privacy?” Adam muttered as he finished up the oatmeal. Alisan was about to reply, when they were interrupted by a man in a white rabbit suit, who hopped into the middle of the circle of couches. The White Rabbit tugged Alisan’s hand urgently and whispered, “I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date.”
Tumbling in after the White Rabbit were a Cheshire Cat, a giant smile drawn across her face, red hair streaming from beneath blue ears, a long blue tail attached to her leather shorts, and Alice-in-Wonderland, complete with tattoo sleeve and a very mini blue dress. Adam took a moment to appreciate Alice’s indisputable hotness.
“Good morning, fellow Burners. We come bearing gifts,” the Cheshire Cat announced, placing a tall Mad-Hatter’s hat on Adam’s head and handing Alisan a crown of hearts.
“And we bring victuals to get you through your journey in Wonderland,” Alice stated, opening up a package of tinfoil that contained what appeared to be stuffed mushrooms.
The White Rabbit nodded. “One bite will make you taller, another make you smaller.”
“Uh, no thanks,” Alisan demurred, and at the very same moment Adam said, “Perfect! Yes, thank you!” Alice gave a swirl of approval as Adam popped two of the mushrooms into his mouth and started chewing.
“Adam, be careful!” Alisan grabbed his hand as he reached out for a third.
“Piss off, Alisan, I’m a big boy.”
“Uh, son, you might want to be sure to drink some water with that and stay in the shade,” said the Cheshire Cat, suddenly looking more like a concerned little sister than a slightly mad cat. “Them ‘shrooms are kind of strong.”
God save me from fussing women, Adam thought, then grinned in spite of himself when Alice blew him a kiss and winked.
“Dawgs, we’re late for that date,” announced the White Rabbit, grabbing the hands of Alice and the Cat.
“And we’re outta here dudes!” sang the Cat. “You all take good care of yourselves.” The three clambered over the sofas, climbed onto their playa bikes, and wheeled away. Adam watched them disappear into the distance and settled the hat firmly on his head.
“I’m going to take a stroll in the desert,” he told Alisan as he started to get up. Alisan pushed him back down.
“Whoa! Just a minute mister. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve just eaten a handful of hallucinogenics and they’ve barely had a chance to hit your system yet,” Alisan said. “Wandering Black Rock City by yourself doesn’t sound so smart to me. Why don’t you just mellow out here at camp. I don’t mind hanging around.”
“Alisan, my poppet, I feel just fine. In fact, I don’t feel anything at all. All I feel is the need to get the hell out of here and take a walk. And, by the way, I so do not need a babysitter! Don’t even think of coming with me.” Adam gave Alisan a mock glare, stood up, and started walking.
Alisan ran after him and grabbed his arm: “Ok, Adam. No babysitter. I promise. But will you at least get yourself set up for a day in the desert? If you’re too damn stupid to do it for yourself, do it for me or I’m going to waste the rest of my day worrying about you, and believe me, I have much better things to do.”
“Honey, you are so co-dependent,” Adam said and petted her head.
“Adam Mitchel Lambert, don’t you dare use 12-step language on me. That works when I’m fucking wrong, but I’m not this time. So just humor me.”
Adam shrugged. He guessed he could wait a couple of minutes. Alisan went back to his van, opened the door and rummaged around. She emerged with a large water bottle, a protein bar, sun screen, a bandana and goggles. She tied the bandana around Adam’s throat (fucking Boy Scout he muttered), stuck the protein bar in his back pocket, took his Mad-Hatter's hat off for a moment so that she could slip his goggles down around his neck, and gently slathered sun screen on his freckled arms and face, then handed him his water.
Adam looked down at her. For some reason his eyes were stinging. He reached up to touch his face and wipe his eyes. He felt wetness on his cheeks. What was that? Oh, he was crying--again. When the hell did he get so emo? It must be the damn sunscreen in his eyes.
“You know I fucking love you, Alisan,” he said.
“Yeah, I know.” She nodded. “But, Adam, you do know that you’re kind of a mess today, don’t you? A very pretty mess, but nevertheless a mess.”
“You really do know how to sweet talk a boy,” Adam gathered himself and added, “Well, I’m off to see the Wizard.”
“Ok. You be safe on that yellow brick road, Scarecrow,” Alisan called to him as he walked away. Adam stopped for a moment and turned, did a quick little Scarecrow/Fyero dance step in Alisan’s honor, and set off for the day’s adventure.
_______________________________
Adam had spent the last few hours with the art on the Playa. In the center stood the Man, arms at his side, waiting to be burned. To his right, five giant steel figures reached out in homage in front of a towering oil well. To his left, people were walking through a great mother serpent, complete with lamps that would burn brightly at night.
A small, rational part of Adam recognized that these giant art pieces represented months of imagining, planning and labor by teams of Burners, but what he really felt was that a spacecraft had randomly dropped these huge and oddly compelling artifacts from an alien planet …each one laden with a special message just for him.
Right now Adam stood in front of a maze of tiny mirrors-images of the sand, the sky, the people walking by, a man playing a burning tuba, three giggling men with arms entwined, a woman trailing a long yellow scarf, more sky, a pirate ship on wheels, the sun, his face, his eyes, his eyes, his eyes now blue, now green, now light and sun, a string of dragon kites in emerald green, turquoise, deep purple, his hat, his eyes again. His mind automatically catalogued the competing thumpa thumpa thumpa of music blasting from this camp and that art car. Goldfrappe’s music floated to him briefly, then Prince smacked his lips in a celebration of kissing, and for God's sake, John Denver was trying to get home down country roads, and, ah yes, now Muse: “Glaciers melting in the dead of night/and superstars sucked into the supermassive/Supermassive Black Hole.”
Adam hummed to himself. He felt his whole body humming. He loved the way music filled him to the core, deep down into that empty space that Brad had wrenched open inside of him. Everything was bright and clear and connected, and it meant something. But what? He reached out to touch the colors in the mirror, seeming almost to hold his own hand for a moment. He looked at his wrist. He would get a tattoo. An Eye of Horus to remind him of this moment, of the mystery of looking into his own eyes and knowing that the answers were there, just out of reach, but definitely there.
Odd. The colors in the mirror were dimming - everything bathed in a soft, mist of grey. He could no longer see sky or sun or people or art, or even his own face. In fact, he couldn’t see much of anything at all.
It was then that Adam became aware of the environment around him. He turned away from the mirrors. Wind whipped across the desert floor, gritty sand flew into his eyes, his mouth, his ears, and all around him the air was white with dust, a fine powder that enveloped everything. He shook himself.
Pay attention, Lambert, he told himself sternly. You are in the middle of a dust storm. He pulled the goggles up over his eyes and the bandana over his nose and mouth. Thank God for fussing women, he thought, as he took a long drink from his water bottle.
The wind was getting damn uncomfortable.
A small, practical voice in his mind, which sounded disturbingly like Neil, informed him that the smart thing to do would be to hunker down and wait out the storm. Adam thought about that for a moment.
A gust of wind swooped the Mad Hatter Hat off his head and out onto the desert floor. He followed the hat out into the maelstrom.
__________________________
Adam held both hands out in front of him and moved through the blinding dust. A large woman in a lavender tutu nearly mowed him down as she peddled her bicycle against the wind. “Sorry!” she yelled back to him. Then, “Watch for falling houses!”
Adam stopped in his tracks, trying to make sense of the comment. It became clear when a moment later a woman in a tall black witch’s hat peddled by singing the Wicked Witch’s theme song: “Na na na na nana Na na nana na! I’ll get you, and your little dog too!”
Where’s the damn yellow brick road when you need it, thought Adam, suddenly feeling very exposed and alone. He wished Brad were with him. Brad loved these wild desert storms that regularly tore through Black Rock City.
“We’re in the Sahara,” he had whispered to Adam during a white out last year. “Any step we take could land us in quick sand or in Lawrence of Arabia’s arms. Shall we dance?” And so Adam had pulled Brad into the wind in a mad, twirling dance that had ended with them both collapsed, legs and arms tangled together, hidden behind a massive dragon sculpture and making out as if they were discovering each other’s lips for the first time.
Adam shook himself again. Love fuckin’ hurts, he thought. And then, of course, he couldn’t shake the words. Love hurts, love hurts, love hurts, playing over and over in his mind complete with maudlin swelling music. What the hell was his life going to be without Brad?
Desolate, Adam thought. That’s what life will be.
He stumbled forward.
He really needed to find some shelter. He should have listened to Neil’s advice. He hated it when Neil was right. In what world was it fair that the younger brother was the smart one? Where was Neil? Oh, that’s right. It was last year when Neil had come to the Burn. Damn, he loved Neil. Although who the hell could understand him? Who but Neil would miss most of the music and dancing, ensconced in some political debate with a gaggle of grey-haired Burners about the electoral college and Halliburton. Well, Neil had found time to complain about how he hadn’t succeeded in hooking up with any girls, which really, how could you go to the Burn and not hook up with a girl? Hell, Adam wasn’t even interested and it seemed that every third woman at the Burn let him know, subtly or not, that the door was open. Oh, well, that was Neil. At least his baby bro had known how to dress for the Burn - fishnets in the desert. Adam had to give him that. Neil was awesome. Irritating, but awesome.
The dust was getting annoying, sneaking in around the edges of the bandana and into every pore, gritty between his teeth.
He really kind of needed Neil now. Neil would have taken ‘shrooms with him and they’d be arguing about something stupid and he wouldn’t be lost in the middle of nowhere.
Why wasn’t Neil here now?
Oh yeah. Neil hadn’t come this year because the theme was American Dream, and Neil said he couldn’t go to anything with that theme, and that as far as he was concerned the American Dream died when Bush became president.
So here was Adam. Without his baby brother.
Without Brad.
Without anyone.
Alone.
Peacock, Lambert, Peacock! Adam reminded himself. Stand up straight and walk.
Hell no. Fuckin’ Strut.
So he did. Trusting that if he just moved forward-one confident step, then another, and again, forgetting fear, forgetting grief, forgetting all the could-have-beens and should-have-dones, he would somehow get to where he needed to go.
“Shit!” Adam exclaimed, as he tripped over a piece of pipe sticking up from the ground, stubbed his toe and fell into the side of some sort of wooden structure. He wondered if the toe was broken. He should have worn his damn boots.
Adam looked around. The dust was clearing a little, and he could see pieces of wood thrusting up from the ground at odd angles, forming strangely slanted walls that in some places leaned in on one another. Oh I see, Adam thought. The temple.
This year the temple was designed by a group of feminist artists and was nothing like the various pagoda structures of previous years. It was somehow more organic, a confusion of tunnels and hidden spaces all leading to a central hall lined with benches. People were sprawled across the benches and on the ground, sheltering from the storm. The wood walls were covered with messages, poetry, passionate promises or photos dedicated to old loves, dead relatives, favorite pets, lost causes, and dreams.
It was cool.
Adam liked it.
And blessedly, he was protected from the wind; but there were way too many people. Adam just wanted a little space to himself, so he ducked into a side passageway. How long had he been awake, anyway? It seemed like about a million years since he’d crawled out of the van back at camp. He just wanted a place to curl up and remember the way colors looked way back at the wall of mirrors before everything went dusty white and grey. Oh yes, and maybe get some sleep.
Then he heard it: a guitar strumming and low voice singing. Adam might not have recognized the words if he hadn’t know the lyrics so well.
This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating in a most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today
For here
Am I sitting in a tin can
Far above the world
Planet Earth is blue
And there’s nothing I can do
Adam didn’t like intruding, and he almost never sang unless invited; other singers tended to get all self-conscious and quiet around him. And while Adam didn’t mind being the center of attention, he also hated interrupting another artist. But he just couldn’t help himself. This boy was singing David Fuckin’Bowie.
So Adam sang out:
Though I'm past one hundred thousand miles
I'm feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go
Tell your wife I love her very much she knows
The guitar playing stopped and Adam was quiet too. A few moments later, he sang out:
Ground Control to Major Tom
Your circuit's dead, there's something wrong
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me Major Tom?
As Adam sang, the guitar playing picked up again, complex counter-harmonies to Adam’s clean, clear melody. And then an answer:
Here am I floating round my tin can
Far above the Moon
Planet Earth is blue
This followed by a snort of laughter. Adam could almost hear the shrug.
“Well, come on in. I guess I’m not alone in my tin can anymore.”
Adam stooped down, the entrance low for his tall frame, and stepped into a small chamber which was lit by a couple of flashlights and a headlamp propped up against the wall. He could vaguely make out the shape of a young guy sitting cross legged on the ground, a guitar on his lap.
“Hey,” said Adam.
“Hey.”
“Mind if I sit?”
“No problem man.”
Adam slid down to the ground and leaned against the wall across from the guitar player. It felt great to be out of the wind, and the dark was soothing. Adam closed his eyes for a moment and settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence. Maybe he’d just go to sleep for a bit. Then his stomach growled, loudly. The guitar player laughed and asked, “Are you hungry? I’ve got some beef jerky and an apple I could share.”
Beef jerky and an apple-mana from the gods. And offered in a voice with just the most delicious little southern lilt to it. For this, Adam was willing to open his eyes. He looked across the room.
“No fuckin’ way!” Adam said.
“Ok, ok. I get it, you’re a vegetarian or a vegan or an apple worshipper or something, right? You know, you can Just Say No.”
Adam laughed.
“No. Not the food. It’s you. You! You’re Plaid Boy! Uh….you know, from Arkansas. Thunderdome. Brad. You wore plaid, he didn’t."
“Oh, you saw the fight,” Plaid Boy said in a neutral voice.
Words tumbled from Adam “You know, there has to be some kind of really amazing alignment of the stars today or something, because things just keep happening. Alice in Wonderland. Wizard of Oz. Dust Storms. Mirrors. Eyes of Horace. Wicked Witches. You. David Bowie. Mushrooms. You know what I mean?”
“Hmm. Mushrooms,” replied Plaid Boy with that crooked grin Adam had noticed the night before. And then, “Hey, it sounds like you know Brad?”
Adam raised an eyebrow: “Yep. I know the charming Cheeks. I know him well.”
“Cool. I liked him.”
“Uh huh. Fucking everyone’s gotta love them some sparkly Brad.” Adam spit the words with more venom than humor.
“Ok. I think I’m missing something here.”
“Shit. Sorry. It’s not you, it’s me." Adam held out his hand. “So, let me start again. Hello. My name is Adam.”
“Um, hi. I’m Kris.” Kris shook Adam’s hand.
“Wow, you’ve got great guitar player fingers. I’ve always liked that . Me-I can’t play anything. Not a guitar, not a piano, hell not really even a triangle. It’s a bummer.”
“Sure you could. But it doesn’t much matter when you have a voice like that.”
“Thanks. Uh, but about that food? I’d really like to take you up on that offer. I think I’m about to swoon here or something, and that would really fuck with my macho image.”
“Yeah, definitely wouldn’t want to mess that up for you.”
Kris pulled out a jack knife, cut the apple and handed half to Adam, along with some beef jerky. Adam took a bite. The moisture and sweet tang of the apple and the salty bite of the jerky were an explosion of flavors in Adam’s mouth. He couldn’t help but moan slightly. This was the best damn food he’d ever eaten in his life. Really. Ever.
Kris lifted the other half of the fruit to his lips, took a moment to breath in the earthy fresh apple smell and started to eat. Between listening to Kris talk with that slight southern lilt and watching him lick his lips, Adam was still contemplating some serious swoonage.
As a matter fact, time was not moving at its normal pace. Every moment was impossibly long, but also rushing by fast. Adam could swear that if he reached out his hand, he’d be able to individually touch each molecule of the air around him. It could be all those hallucinogens you scarfed this morning, said an inner voice that still sounded annoyingly like Neil.
This is so not all about the ‘shrooms, Neil, he thought. So just shut up!
Adam looked around. It was kind of frustrating. The lighting wasn’t really right. The flashlights were pointed to the ceiling, and Plaid Boy was half in shadow. Adam had a feeling that he really needed to see Plaid Boy…no he had a name now…Kris…he needed to see Kris’s face.
Adam picked up one of the flashlights and aimed it right at Kris.
“Whoa.” Kris raised his hands to his eyes, covering his face. “What are you doing?”
“I just want to see you.”
Kris kept his hands over his face for a moment and turned his face away. Adam lowered the flashlight so it wasn’t aimed right into Kris’s eyes.
“Hey, hey it’s ok. I won’t bite. I promise.”
Then Kris looked straight at Adam.
“Shit!” said Adam. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“Um. Would you believe I ran into a door?”
No. No. Adam wouldn’t believe that. Kris’s left eye was almost swollen shut and surrounded by plum-colored bruising. His cheek was swollen, too.
“You’ve been hurt.” Adam’s voice was flat.
“Yep.”
“I didn’t realize you guys actually hit each other that hard,” Adam said.
“What?”
“You and Brad. Last night. Big fight. People clapping, only one man left alive etcetera etcetera.”
“Oh, that. No. Brad didn’t do this.”
“Ok. That makes sense. Brad would be glad because, well, you know he wouldn’t want to mess up your face. He gets kind of enthusiastic sometimes - but he’s very careful about leaving marks anywhere they can be seen.”
“And you know this how?” asked Kris. He picked up his guitar and began idly strumming chords and bits of melody.
Adam leaned forward
“Brad is my boyfriend. Well, was really. Until last night. Then we broke up. Well, to tell the truth, he broke up with me. Which sucks. I’ve been dumped. What you have sitting across from you is a pitiful dumpee.”
Kris looked up. "Hey, I’m sorry. It wasn’t about the fight was it?”
“Well, not the fight, really. Not even that kiss. Oh yes, I haven’t forgotten that kiss. It was really more about gazelles and peacocks and…” Adam found the words tumbling out of his mouth. Kris was easy to talk to. He didn’t really demand anything. Not like most of Adam’s friends, who, god love them, had something to say about absolutely everything. Friends who knew him well would see his pain and feel they had to do something, which would just make Adam uncomfortable. And they might even tell Brad. Well screw that. Adam was going to just do fine. He didn’t need their sympathy. Or worse yet, Brad’s.
What he needed was this. Just to talk and to be heard. Really, truth be told, to hear himself.
“You know, I think I’ve spent too much time listening to everyone else,” Adam said. “Life gets so busy, and I’ve gotta admit I can get a little cray cray sometimes. You know, caught in the fantasy, always trying to find that fuckin’ big break. Playing with feathers. Dieting. Gossip. Drama. That kind of thing.”
“Maybe it’s really about the singing,” Kris said.
“Yeah, you’re right. In the end it always comes back to the singing. That’s the sweet spot in the middle of it all, isn’t it?”
“Yep. Music always makes sense.”
“It does, it does, you’re so right. But to really sing, you’ve gotta live a little, to feel. Experience things, you know? Like you - you stepped right into that ring last night, center-fuckin’-stage- even though it was clear you didn’t know what the hell you were doing.”
“That obvious?”
“Sure, but that’s what was so great. There’s gotta be nothin’ like that in Arkansas, right? But you went for it, anyway. And now you have a black eye and you’re sitting here all mysterious and beautiful, like you’ve really been through something. I’ve never had a black-eye-well, only the kind you get when eyeliner smears -- but anyhow, I don’t get myself in situations where I get hit. Mostly I look too big for your average asshole to take on, but the truth is I have kind of a horror of being hit. I mean then I’d have to hit back and they’d hit me again and, well, it always seems better just to make a joke or a quick exit. But now you know what it’s like, and you could write about it or play it in your songs or whatever, and there’d be that grittiness of truth in it, like Johnny Cash or Nick Cave.”
“Uh, Adam. Just so you know. Getting a black eye? Highly overrated.” There was something in Kris’s voice that made Adam stop.
Adam took a breath.
“Sorry. I’m getting a little carried away with myself. I do that sometimes.”
“It’s ok.”
“No. It really isn’t.” Adam looked at Kris. “So enough about me. What do you think about me?”
Kris snorted a laugh.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Adam said. “Crap, I’m actually feeling nervous right now” Kris looked a question at him. “Why? Well, if you ask me, Kris, and I know you would if I’d let you get a word in edgewise, I think it’s because I want to ask you what the Fuck happened to you. And I’m scared you won’t tell me and, well, that would sort of suck.”
“Why would that suck?” Kris asked. “Why is it so important? Lots of people get black eyes for lots of reasons. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
“Here’s the thing. Someone hurt you. I can see it. And not just on the outside. And if you can’t tell me about it, well, then it means you’re not feeling safe. Not even here-floating in this tin can.”
A palpable silence settled between Adam and Kris. Only the sound of their breathing and the drumming in the distance.
Kris set down his guitar and cleared his throat. “Adam. Can I try something?”Adam looked across at Kris who was leaning forward, looking like a very determined puppy dog, big brown eyes liquid, lower lip protruding just a little.
“Oh, about now…you could probably try just about anything.”
Kris nodded once, solemnly, and scooted across the floor until he was sitting, cross legged, right in front of Adam.
“What I’d like to try is this.” Kris moved his face towards Adam.
Adam suddenly had an almost uncontrollable urge to giggle. Crap, Lambert, not now. This is important.
But, but…. Kris looked so damned earnest, lips pursed and eyes squinched. Stop it! Adam told himself sternly. This is not the first bi-curious boy to kiss you. Take it like a man.
And Kris’s lips met his. Adam opened his mouth slightly, and his teeth bumped into Kris’s teeth with an awkward click.
Adam pulled Kris in a little closer. Might as well give it the old college try, the irritating narrator in his head continued. Adam’s tongue felt dry and, oh god, so did Kris’s. Adam moved his tongue experimentally and tasted salt. Lots of salt. Kris pulled away with a sharp intake of breath. That, thought Adam, was one truly amateur kiss. He’d had better kisses on stage with Elphaba in Wicked.
“Well,” said Kris
“Salty,” said Adam.
“Yes, very.” And Kris started to shake.
Oh god, thought Adam. What have I done to this beautiful, hurt boy? And then he heard it: the bubbling sound of full-body laughter.
“Well, that’s a relief,” said Kris. “Because I was wondering what I was going to tell Katy and how my family was going to react. I mean, we have the wedding song picked out, and all the invitations sent, and my mom cried when I told her we were getting married, and I’m already making payments on the ring, and the pronoun in all of my songs is she, and, well it just seemed like life was going to get really complicated after last night. After Brad.”
“Hmmph” said Adam, and frowned. Wouldn’t you know that Plaid Boy would choose now to get chatty?
“Oh, jeez, Adam, I’m sorry. I mean, it isn’t you, it’s me. I kind of thought you’d be ok with a kiss. You did call me, um, beautiful. Anyhow, I thought maybe if we just kissed, I would know and I could figure things out from there.”
“Glad to be of service.”
Adam was so not glad to be of service. Friggin’ Brad and now this.
Kris looked up at Adam.
“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” Kris gently touched Adam’s cheek. “This is going to sound weird, but you do know that you’re awesome, right? And you just seem kind of, well, kissable. But I guess it was just a performance high kind of thing last night. Turns out, I’m not gay. So.”
“So.” Adam paused to gather his thoughts “So, Kris, now you know. Good for you. And really, congratulations on the wedding and everything. But I’ve gotta go. I have a show tonight. Gonna sing the national anthem.” Maybe it wasn’t his best exit line, but it would have to do. And wouldn’t the Star Spangled Banner just cap his day off perfectly? Adam started to get up to leave.
“Adam, um, could you wait just a little?”
Adam was about to say that he really had to get going when, almost inaudibly, Kris added, “I’ve really had sort of a crap 24 hours.”
Adam settled back against the wall.
“Ok. Tell me about it,” he said.
And Kris did. He told the story of how he had gone back to camp from Thunder Dome, only to find O’Reilly and Beck regaling his frat brothers with tales of the fight. How everyone in camp had been laughing and egging Kris on to tell them how it felt to be kissed by Cheeks, whether it was gross, and why he didn’t just slug Cheeks, and how Kris hadn’t said anything at all.
“Until finally Anoop told them all to just shut up.”
“Snoop?” Adam asked. “You actually have a frat brother called Snoop. God, I hope he’s at least black.”
“Not Snoop: Anoop. And he’s not black. He’s Indian-American. Wait, what does his ethnicity have to do with anything anyhow?”
“Oh, you mean Valentino. Yeah, I talked to him at the fight and liked him, Seemed like there was kind of a stand up guy hidden somewhere beneath that preppy wardrobe.”
“Do you just go around making up names for everyone?” asked Kris.
“Yeah, a lot of times I do, Plaid Boy,”
“I’m not even wearing plaid,” complained Kris.
“Nevertheless…..hey this is getting off track. What happened next?” Adam asked.
“Well, it went like this: when Anoop told them to shut up, I said, 'No, It’s ok.' And then, well, I told them what it felt like to kiss Brad.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I told them that his name was Brad, not Cheeks. And that he was funny and a hell of a lot smarter than any of them. And that the kiss- it felt good. I told them that I liked it.” Kris looked at Adam. “I know I shouldn’t really say this to you, but Adam, I told them I liked it. A lot.”
“Hey, I get it.”
“And then O’Reilly called me a fudgepacker, and Beck told me that I was no brother of his and that he’d get me thrown out of the fraternity, and then I kind of just lost it and kicked Beck in the balls.”
Adam hooted.
“I know. Probably not cool. I should have just walked away. Or at least punched him, but honest to god, I didn’t want to hurt my guitar playing hand.”
Adam was riveted. He’d never heard of anything remotely like this happening at the Burn. And Kris was, oh my god, Kris was just sort of perfect.
“Anyhow, it got kind of confusing then.” Kris went on to describe how O’Reilly punched him in the face and then a couple of the other guys from the frat house had joined in on the beating. Kris raised his shirt to show Adam bruises on his chest and gut. Adam wanted to say something or do something, but didn’t because Kris still had things to say, and Adam knew a thing or two about listening to this kind of story.
“You should have seen Beck rolling around in pain and moaning obscenities all at the same time. Oh, and Anoop kept trying to get me out of there and was shouting at the top of his voice for everyone to stop, but no one was listening, and luckily I never fell, just kind of stood there protecting my hands, and I know it’s probably not true, but. …well, the hitting seemed to go on for a long time.” Kris explained that finally a whole art car full of people in costumes had stopped, broken up the fight and offered to go find the Black Rock Rangers and to take Kris to the medical tent.
“So I just grabbed my back pack and guitar and got the hell out of there. And then I wandered, until I found the temple and it seemed, well, good. Right. I like the energy. Peaceful, you know. And I’ve been here since then.”
“You’ve been here since last night?”
“Well, I did go out to the porta-potties a couple of times.” Kris laughed.
“God, Kris. How did you manage it?”
“Well, I read the Burner Survival Guide, so I had everything I needed right with me.”
Oh. Of course Kris had read the survival guide. Adam had always meant to do that.
“Kris, you do know that this is so not ok? Right? Those guys are beyond assholes, and you could really be hurt. And SHIT, it’s not ok. Ok? “
“Ah, I’ve been hurt worse than this before. I’m from Arkansas,” Kris said, as if that was any kind of explanation.
“If you’re so ok, why’ve you been hiding out here all day?”
“It wasn’t Beck and O’Reilly I’ve been worried about. It was my Katy. But now everything really is, you know, simple again, and maybe it’s time for me to get back.”
Adam cautiously placed his hand on Kris’s arm.
“Are you sure? Because I think we should get you to the medical tent just to be sure you’re really ok, and then you can stay at our camp tonight, or we can find you somewhere else if that would be more comfortable, but you definitely shouldn’t have to see those guys.”
“No really, I’m ok,” Kris said emphatically. “And Adam, thanks. I think I’m gonna go now.”
“No problem.” Adam surprised himself by reaching out to shake Kris’s hand. It just seemed like the right thing to do.
Kris took his hand and held it for a moment. “Adam, could you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Drink some water. You’re going to get dehydrated.”
Adam, still sitting against the wall, legs crossed, shook his head. Kris was too much. But Adam opened his water bottle and took a long, thirst-quenching drink. Kris motioned to him, and Adam handed the bottle to Kris, who took a drink and set the bottle down.
“And one more favor,” Kris said. Very deliberately, facing Adam, Kris settled onto Adam’s lap.
Adam watched as Kris leaned forward. Kris’s slightly calloused fingers felt delicious running across the day’s growth of beard on Adam’s face, his neck. Adam didn’t feel remotely like laughing now.
Kris moved in to kiss Adam, his lips gentle, a little tentative. Adam pulled Kris closer and there was nothing of gentleness now. It was all urgency and tasted of desert and heat and anger and hope and sex. And they kept on kissing until it was time to stop.
They looked at each other, both a little breathless.
“Not so simple,” said Kris.
“Maybe not.” Adam ran his hand through Kris’s hair, ending with a hard tug. Kris responded with a sharp intake of breath and a guttural moan.
“Damn!” Kris pushed himself away from Adam and stood. “Look, I’ve really gotta go. This is..I mean that was…and god you…you are …or maybe I am..or we are, or something…and, well, Katy…”
Adam looked up at Kris and studied his face. Not pretty right now, with that left eye swollen, but raw and bare and beautiful. Like the desert. Kris covered his face with his hands, suddenly shy under the intense gaze.
“Hey, look at me Kris.” Steady brown eyes met Adam’s. “Fuck. You are something else. Do you even know? But it is ok for you to go now. I mean I’m fine. We’re guys, right? Sometimes we kiss. Sometimes we give each other blow jobs. Sometimes we have burping contests.”
Kris smiled.
“Here’s the thing about the Burn, Kris. Stuff happens here. And maybe you meet someone and have a moment. You know, a real moment that kind of stops time and all the bullshit for a while. And then, well, you drive back out into the world.”
Kris gave Adam a searching look.
“You’re going to be all right Plaid Boy.”
Kris nodded. “Yeah, I’ll work on that. And you, you do the same ok? ” Kris looked at his watch. How sweet, he wears a watch at the Burn, Adam thought.
“But now, Adam, I’ve really gotta get back to camp. Oh man, Anoop is going to be going out of his mind with worry, and that is not a pretty sight.”
“Ok,” said Adam. "Get along now, then.”
Kris kissed Adam in the middle of his forehead and walked away.
______________________________________________
Later that night, Adam and his family of friends stood together amidst a throng of people, all waiting to see the Man burn.
Brad started to lean into Adam. Adam gently pushed him away. Not yet; not tonight.
Lights and music pulsated across the playa. Adam swayed to the music, caught up in the wild rhythms of the night.
Alisan looked up at him.
“Hey Scarecrow, you’re looking a little better,” she said.
“I think I am. Right now, anyway. Your goggles saved my ass.”
“Now that’s a fine thing,” she said.
“So I’ve been told,” Adam replied soberly. Alisan hit him lightly on the arm.
“Well, Adam, the night is young. I’ve got my whole evening mapped out. I’m going to try and see everything tonight. What are you going to do?”
Adam looked out at the Man. In a few moments, the ceremony would begin. The Man’s arms were raising. Soon they’d be held high above his head and flames would rise up into the sky and the crowd would howl to the moon.
Adam took it all in and felt, for the first time that day, a full-hearted smile spread across his face. He turned to Alisan.
“I think I’ll sing,” said Adam. “Just sing.”
The End
For more information about Burning Man:
http://www.burningman.com/
And this is a journal entry with photos by ( l_stboy) describing fighting in Thunderdome
http://l-stboy.livejournal.com/234755.html
Feedback is my friend!