the only engine of survival - part two
Three months later…
Kris knows he should have called first. Sure, he talked to Adam yesterday and the day before that and every day before that since they landed back on American soil eleven-odd weeks ago. Long, rambling conversations about everything and nothing in an attempt to get to know each other in the real world where no one (hopefully) is out to kill them and food means cheeseburgers instead of berries and roots.
But talking on the phone, no matter how often or how long, is not quite the same thing as showing up on Adam's doorstep with three week's worth of clothes in a beat up suitcase and his guitar strapped to his back. Especially not since it's such a magnificent doorstep.
Kris figures out that Adam is maybe a tiny bit more famous than he let on when about two-thousand paparazzi met them at the airport and Adam's face smirked at him from every newsstand. Apparently, it doesn't go unnoticed when Broadway stars about to release their first mainstream album go missing during a vacation, especially not when they turn out to have been kidnapped by a paramilitary group of crazies with a taste for blood.
(How many they killed no one can say for sure. Hundreds, if not thousands, of tourists and locals go missing every year never to be found again. Kris supposes it doesn't matter. What matters is that they were stopped.)
There are five cars parked in the driveway, and even if Adam obviously has money, Kris doubts they are all his, which brings him back to the fact that he really should have called first. He takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell anyway, deciding that he's not allowed to be scared of this after everything he's been through.
It's not Adam who opens the door, and Kris doubts that the glittery man in a hat and sparkly purple pants is some kind of butler unless the butler dress code is significantly different in LA.
"Who are you?" Sparkly Pants asks, nose crinkling slightly and brown eyes hostile as he gives Kris a once-over.
Kris realizes he probably doesn’t look like much in his dusty Converse and with jeans that are still baggy despite his mother's best attempts at fattening him up, at least not to someone who's casually wearing sparkly pants on a Thursday.
"Kris Allen," Kris says, trying for a friendly smile. "Adam knows me."
"Oh." Sparkly Pants's eyes go wide and he grins. "Of course he does."
Sparkly Pants steps back into the foyer flailing his hand in Kris's direction. Kris takes that as an invitation and picks up his suitcase, stepping into the house.
The foyer is a mess of coats, shoes and more shoes that Kris quickly adds to with his suitcase, guitar and sneakers, while Sparkly Pants bounces on his heels waiting for him.
"Oh, this is going to be so much fun," he says, eyes widening even further.
Kris tries for a smile, but he's pretty sure it comes out as a grimace. He can hear people talking somewhere in the house, lots of people, not exactly the setting he envisioned for their reunion.
"I'm Brad by the way," Sparkly Pants, well Brad, says as he leads Kris deeper into the house and Kris realizes he should have guessed. Adam talks enough about Brad for Kris to have a pretty decent mental picture. He just didn't expect Brad to be quite this sparkly.
Brad leads Kris into what must have been the living room before it was turned into something that looks like a huge messy dressing room-come-photo studio. Adam is seated at a table with his back to the door poking morosely at a bunch of pictures spread out before him with a guy waiting expectantly by his shoulder, supposedly for Adam to make a choice.
There are several clothes racks lined up in the middle of the room and something that looks like an elaborate makeup table has been set up against the wall. There are at least ten people scattered about the room, working on laptops, staring at pictures, fiddling with the clothes, and more, making the whole thing look more like a backstage scene from a musical than someone's living room. Kris thinks it's strangely fitting.
"Adam," Brad singsongs, leaving Kris in the doorway to saunter over to Adam's chair. "There's someone here to see you."
Kris stares a hole into the back of Adam's head, every instinct screaming for him to move closer. Adam's hair is shorter now, raven black streaked with vivid blue and emerald green. Adam sent him a picture when he had it done, but the picture has nothing on the reality. Kris wants to bury his fingers into it, holding on tight to the silky strands while they kiss.
"I don't have time for your friends right now," Adam says, tone just this side of pissy. "I'm kind of busy, if you haven't noticed."
Brad looks up at Kris and winks. "Oh well," he says. "I guess I'll just take Kris out for drinks then…"
Adam's head whips around so fast Kris fears he's going to get whiplash. "Oh," he says when he spots Kris, lips forming a perfect beautiful O, and Kris just stares.
Adam in full makeup is a sight to behold, black lines around his eyes, streaks of violent green across his lids and slick pink lip-gloss hiding the freckles on his lips. He looks nothing like the man that Kris kissed goodbye eleven weeks ago in an airport bathroom and Kris finds that he really, really couldn't care less.
Adam gets up from the chair in slow-motion, at least that's what it feels like to Kris. "Everybody out," he says, without once taking his eyes from Kris's face. "I mean it."
There's a chorus of protests, someone whines about decisions that have to be made, someone else says something about an interview, but Adam ignores all of them.
"You heard the man," Brad says sassily, taking it upon himself to herd people out.
Kris takes a stumbling step forward, his knees feel funny as if they're not properly attached to his legs, but he doesn't look away from Adam's face to determine that they're still there.
"Hi," he says, feeling stupid and tongue-tied and a little bit like he’s never going to be able to fit into all of this.
"Hi," Adam echoes, his entire face transforming into a huge, blinding, smile.
Kris closes the remaining distance between them, practically tripping into Adam's waiting arms, and for the first time in eleven weeks everything feels right again.
-
That night they sleep on the back porch in a tangle of blankets and limbs. It feels right, somehow, to begin the second chapter like they’d begun the first; with the ground digging into their bones and the air heavy with humidity and the curious sounds of night.
Kris wakes up once, from a dream he can't remember, to a dog barking in the distance. His chest seizes, just for a moment, and within seconds Adam's awake too. They blink at each other in the darkness, hands reaching out to ground and reassure, and Kris drifts back to sleep, safe in the circle of Adam's arms.
-
It's not easy, not even close. Three months ago Kris had to relearn how to live in the real world, where there are comforts and demands and getting through the day doesn't mean not getting killed. Now he has to learn how to live in a fantasy world where comfort means luxury and he walks around all day with this huge fluttery feeling in his chest. He has to learn how to fit into a world that is so far from his definition of normal that sometimes it feels as if he's been thrown into the deep end of the pool and forgotten how to swim.
It's pounded home when Adam's publicist sits him down and gives him a crash course in how to deal with the press and Adam's stylist starts making noises about his wardrobe choices. He almost leaves, more than once. He packs his bags and writes a note. He locks himself in the bathroom for an hour to stare into his own haunted eyes. He borrows Adam's car and drives around until late in the night, fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel and heart pounding.
But he always goes back, because despite everything, despite the discomfort of too much comfort and the constant fear of not being enough, there is nowhere else in the world he would rather be. No one he would rather be with and he thinks that means something.
-
"I want you to move in with me," Adam says one night when they're sitting on the back patio, looking up at the stars.
"I already live with you," Kris points out, because he's been in LA for over two months and he has yet to book a ticket back home.
Adam shakes his head slowly, turning to look at Kris. He looks tired in the flickering lights of the candles set up on the table, eyes shadowed and forehead lined. "No," he says. "You're a guest. You keep your clothes in your bag, you apologize for making a mess, you ask before you take something from the fridge and you… I just… I just want this to be real." He's silent for a moment and when he speaks again, he sounds small and Kris's chest clenches. "I keep waiting for you to leave," he whispers. "I wish you'd make up your mind."
Kris wants to protest, wants to say it was never about Adam, only his life, but when it comes down to it, he can't have one without the other. Adam's life is crazy and it will probably always be crazy and if Kris wants Adam he has to learn how to live with that.
"I love you," Kris says, which isn't an answer but still makes Adam smile faintly.
"I know you do," he says simply and Kris realizes that it might not be enough.
-
That night Kris dreams of the island for the first time in weeks and he wakes up in a cold sweat, heart tripping hard against his ribcage. Adam's still asleep, face buried into the pillows and limbs sprawled, but one of his hands is curled around Kris's wrist, as if he's trying to anchor him even in slumber.
Kris stares at Adam's palm against his skin, flexing his fingers slightly just to feel Adam stir and hold on tighter while the visions of palm trees and coughing guns fade from his mind. It's just a dream now, a nightmare, a part of his past.
He could face it alone, he realizes. He doesn't need Adam to remind him it isn't real anymore. He doesn't need Adam's touch to stay grounded, and the bark of a dog no longer makes him jump. He could do it alone, but he doesn't want to. He wants to wake up every morning to Adam's smile, he wants to be a part of the wild circus that is Adam's life, he wants Brad to mock him and Adam's stylist to roll her eyes at his fashion choices. He wants this, Adam, and that is okay.
It's not PTSD. It's not codependency. It's not any of the things he might have worried about in the past. It's love, pure and simple, and he's never been happier. Who cares if they met in unusual circumstances, it doesn't make what they have any less real.
For the first time in five months Kris lets himself believe in what they're building here, believe in them, and a weight lifts from his shoulders. This is real and it's his to keep.
-
Adam has a walk-in-closet, a huge terrifying thing full of sparkles and spikes, and if it has a backdoor Kris thinks it leads to Labyrinth rather than Narnia, but that's where he drags his bag once he's managed to detangle himself from Adam's hold. He turns the light on, shielding his eyes so he’s not blinded by the bling, and then he sets about unpacking his bag, fitting his plaid in between Adam's dress shirts and his worn jeans in between Adam's leather pants and fancy slacks.
He's almost done when a shadow falls across the floor and Adam says," What are you doing?"
Kris grins. "What does it look like? I'm unpacking."
Adam blinks, and winces when Kris fits his spare sneakers in between Adam's favorite Rick Owens boots. "You can have your own closet," he says weakly.
"I don't want my own closet," Kris retorts. "I want to share yours."
"Yes," Adam says, wincing again. "Uhm…"
He's staring at Kris's shirts, Kris realizes, and they way they really don't match the color-coordinated scheme.
"Maybe if we just put those here," Adam says, pulling the hangers down and moving them towards the back where he keeps his own plaid (two shirts to Kris's seven). "And uh…"
He moves the jeans next and then the sneakers and then he simply takes the bag from Kris and unpacks the rest. It's not until he reaches the bottom of the bag and puts it on one of the top shelves that he seems to realize what they're actually doing. His hands freeze and the bag nearly hits him on the head when it comes tumbling back down.
"Really?" he asks, turning around to look at Kris, lips tilting into a hopeful smile.
Kris smiles back, taking in the long line of Adam's body, his gorgeous freckles, his beautiful eyes. "Really," he says.
"Forever?" Adam asks, taking a tentative step closer.
"For however long you'll have me," Kris promises.
He's going to need a job until he can find a way to make a living off his music, and there are still details to be discussed, but as he looks into Adam's glowing eyes all of that seems very, very irrelevant. Adam curls his hands around Kris's face and bends down to brush a soft kiss against Kris's lips.
"Marriage?" he asks and Kris laughs.
"Ask me again in two years," he answers.
"I will," Adam promises and kisses him again.
-
One year later they go back to the island. It's privately owned and closed to tourists, but the business man who owns it is willing to make an exception for them. The compound has been leveled to the ground and a sprawling villa erected in its place, but the harbor and the airstrip are intact.
It's chilling to see it all again, the crevice and the cave, the now empty buildings of the harbor and the dusty roads they thought they'd never walk again, but it's also good - freeing. It's nothing but a place now, sticks and stones and trees and sand. Walking along the roads doesn't bring back the terror, it just makes them realize how far they've come.
"I don't think I ever thanked you for saving my life back then," Kris says when they step back on the boat that will take them to the mainland.
Adam laughs and tightens his arm around Kris's shoulders. "You're welcome," he says.
They stand side-by-side on the rail and watch the island disappear into the distance.
"I don't get why anyone would want to live there knowing what happened," Kris says.
"People are weird," Adam agrees.
They share a look and break down into guffaws of laughter that ends in an open-mouthed kiss.
"I love you," Adam says, pulling Kris into a hug.
"Yeah," Kris murmurs, squeezing him back. "Same."
He looks back up at the island and takes a moment to say a silent prayer of thanks for surviving and for the amazing thing he found among the trees and got to keep.
-
Adam goes down on one knee again six months too early. This time Kris says yes.
- The End -
Notes:
Thanks to elizaria for alpha reading and suggestions and to sbb23 for the quick and amazing beta! Without them this would have been even more of a mess. <333
Also, a huge thanks to my wonderful artist pandorablu. Make sure to visit the art post and tell her she's amazing. <333
I started writing this a long time ago for
kradamadness but I ran out of steam halfway and it ended up in a dusty WIP folder. I found it again when I realized there was just no way I'd be able to finish the story I originally intended to write in time and here it is. :D
The title is snatched from The Future by Leonard Cohen, as suggested by teh_ace a very long time ago. Thanks, darling! I finally used it. :D
The story is set in Vanuatu, an island kingdom in the South Pacific (thanks sbb23). I've never been there and everything I know about it I learned from Wikipedia. The locations were all randomly picked from a map, and are probably not the slightest bit accurate. My apologies to the locals for making them bad at English when English is actually one of the official languages.
Thank you for reading! <333