Fic: One View [PG13]
Title: One View
Author: ilytheira
Pairing: Kradam (Kris Allen/Adam Lambert)
Rating: PG13
Summary: ‘Stunned is the closest word to her reaction that night. Stunned dumbfounded surprised aghast openmouthed wide-eyed overwhelmed the feeling of I should’ve known no, why should I have known? damn it, I should have known!’
Notes: All the response everyone’s given to this fic is amazing - thank you so much. ♥. Writing this series has been a fantastic ride - it’s broken my writer’s block of nearly nine, ten months! - so I’m so happy with your positive feedback. :D One View is the final installment for this series, so I hope you’ll enjoy it!
Disclaimer: Neither Kris nor Adam, nor any of the people featured, or any of the songs below, belong to me.
All right. I attempted to break View into the normal five parts a la the first two installments, but then I realized, you know what, maybe not with this one. One part is enough. (:
Missed a part? Catch up!
- Seven Minutes ; Five Heartaches ; Two Catalysts ; Three Kisses
- Yeah, Me, I’m Missin’ You From Way ’Cross Town -
‘Do You Believe Me Now’ ; Jimmy Wayne
The only thing Katy dares to ask herself is how she hadn’t seen it sooner. Right now, she’s surprised that she’s actually in possession of enough self-control to keep her hands from slapping her face silly - she’s probably more surprised, though, at how she’s kept it from giving her a wake-up call for so long. She’d - she’d seen it clearly tonight, had seen what so many others had seen before her, had seen what so many others had chosen to willingly see. She’d - she’d seen Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam so very clearly, so painfully clearly that the images are forever burned into her memory, are sitting there now with the snapshots from last week and the two, three weeks before that. Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam.
Katy realizes that it’s selfishness that rears its ugly head when no, no, no, no, Kris should be coming home Kris should be coming home Matt should still be there runs through her mind, when the thought of no, no, no, no, Kris should be the one sent packing, be the one let out of that mansion, be the one away away away from Adam runs through her mind. The rush of emotions she feels as she thinks about Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam sharing a bedroom a bathroom a home together is a tornado sweeping her away, perfectly poised and prepared to take her down and render her world unrecognizable.
She honest-to-God doesn’t know how she hadn’t seen it earlier, doesn’t know how she hadn’t picked up on it earlier. Thinking back now, now as they’re ushered into black SUVs that rev up and prepare to zoom down the streets of Los Angeles, now as they head to a restaurant where they’ll celebrate Matt’s journey, now as they head to a restaurant where she’ll see Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam, she’s surprised to realize that no matter how many times Kris had mentioned Adam during their phone calls during the Hollywood rounds, she’d never been bothered by it. She smiles bitterly and shakes her head, crossing her legs and looking out the window, attempting to focus on the fluctuations of the lights, in and out, up and down, side to side. The fascination - there just isn’t another word for it - had all started so many months ago when, at ten past midnight, she had received a phone call from Kris, Kris so bright and happy and cheerful and awed, Kris raving on and on and on about Adam - who she’d only known then as one of Kris’ first friends out in Hollywood, who she only knew then as the tall singer who wore guyliner and wore his hair in a black so dark his hair looked blue under the sun at just the right angle (it had amused Katy, actually, when he did end up having cobalt streaks in his hair), who stood out from any crowd with his sense of style - and how he’d tackled, of all songs, “Believe” by Cher.
“He’s - so awesome, Katy, like - I’m not even kidding! Y’know? Like - like when you think about that song, it’s like, oh, you know, disco and bright lights and Cher, you know? It’s karaoke at three a.m. with your friends after you’ve downed a case of Hennessy with us, but, Katy, him? He’s - he’s different, Katy, the - the way he sang it? It was just so - so - y’know?”
And she’d laughed at his inability to form what he could pretend to present was a coherent thought. She’d also just dismissed his unabashed admiration with a fond smile, a shake of her head, and a gentle “Oh, Kris; yeah - yeah, I know” not only because it was nearing twelve-thirty and she’d really wanted to get some rest despite the fact that the call had been a pleasant surprise, but because he’d just met the other singer, had just recently become friends with him. It was only natural, she’d told herself then; a simple curiosity, a natural insatiable thirst for more that couldn’t be helped, an admiration with what was fresh and new and exciting and out-of-this-world extraordinary. Now more than ever, she knows that there are certainly more adjectives and more superlatives that can be added to her description for the phenomena “Hollywood’s own! - Adam Lambert!” is to become, is becoming, will remain as.
What person wouldn’t have been intrigued by the way Adam carried himself, presented himself, a flawless performer able to tackle any song every song on stage but a kind man, a gentle man, a humble man off stage, willing to take time away from his performances to help others on theirs? What person wouldn’t fall under the spell of a man who could reduce to Paula to senseless nothings and everythings each and every week, more so than any other year; who could make Randy sound more like a broken record than ever (Katy doesn’t think she’s ever heard so many “yo’s” before); who could render Kara awed and speechless and incoherent and unable to count or differentiate between John Travolta and Fred Armisen; who could bring a smile onto Simon’s face every night without missing a heartbeat or bring the praise-elusive judge to stand on his feet in laudatory applause?
Katy leans her forehead against the window and sighs, momentarily raising it to smile at her mother-in-law and say “Yeah, I’m good; a little hungry, still reeling from the whole bottom three thing,” before pressing it against the window again. She watches the glass fog up slightly as she exhales, writes k+k like she used to during the first months of their relationship, then shakes her head and quickly erases it, leaning away and settling against the leather upholstery.
She has to admit that Kris’ - fascination (she really can’t find another word for it), and not only is it Kris’ fascination but the world’s fascination with Adam, is not an enigma. Of course she’s intrigued, too, and of course she’s fascinated, too, in fact, she’s miles and miles beyond intrigued or fascinated. Who wouldn’t be intrigued by the taller singer’s voice and looks and style and charm and presence? She’s sat down and exchanged stories about Kris with him on their first week in the mansion; she’s playfully talked Maybelline and MAC and Sephora with him; she’s heard about the pictures and seen the articles in Star and OK! and every other tabloid that’s chosen to speak about him; she’s heard all the chatter about her husband’s “BFF” (a voice in her head says best friends forever or boyfriends forever? snidely, says it venomously, but she’s quick to lock it in a box and throw away the key), in fact, she’s seen the clip of the O’Reilly show - but it’s none of that that interests her.
What interests her is - is them as a whole; not just Kris or Adam, not just Adam or Kris, but Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam. Kris and Adam as they’re going over song choices for that week’s theme night; Adam and Kris as they squabble at dinner over a slight over-extension of a note or a failed improvisation during dress rehearsal; Kradam as they’re filming that week’s commercial, high fives and hands on shoulders and pats on backs; Kradam as they wave good night to their fellow competitors and head to their bedroom; Kradam as Kris calls her in the aftermath of a night together with Adam, and-
“Katy? Katy, I - I have something to tell you.
“I - I slept with someone, Katy, I slept with someone, and-
“I slept with Adam, Katy.”
Stunned is the closest word to her reaction that night. Stunned dumbfounded surprised aghast openmouthed wide-eyed overwhelmed the feeling of I should’ve known no, why should I have known? damn it, I should have known! She’d cried and yelled and drove herself crazy how how how why why why and cried some more and yelled some more and probably drove Kris insane why why why how how how, probably started to drive Kris away with every breath she took, every how could you-? why did you-? she spoke. She’d noticed the widening distance between them, but not before she’d noticed the marginally wide gap between him and Adam. The first sighting had been at the dinner after Michael’s elimination, and she didn’t know what to make of their awkward coldness toward each other, of Kris’ awkward toleration of her be happy be happy it’ll be okay? be worried be worried what about Kris’ happiness?
Come Megan’s elimination the week after, however, she’d been a witness to the sort-of resurgence of their more-than-a-friendship friendship just as easily as she’d spotted the previous week’s lack of it, as easily as she’d spotted the way they’d hugged Megan and held on to her as though she was the only one who kept them in their right state of minds - in fact, as easily as she’d spotted the awkward discomfort in Kris as he draped a tense arm around her shoulder. Scott’s departure dinner the following week only highlighted the fact that Megan had been their bridge despite their convincing camaraderie during the results show, but bridge or no bridge, something - something changed the week after that, and ever since, how could I not have noticed? why didn’t I notice? since when has this been-? has been her constant train of thought.
Nothing Kris or Adam or anyone say or do will shake her awe at Adam’s “Tracks of My Tears” - that had been amazing. When Kris went onstage with “Ain’t No Sunshine” the week after, following Adam, who’d played his funky music and played it excellently, she’d been blown away. It happened again, the whole did he really just do that? did that just really happen? oh my God, he really did just do that oh my God, that really did just happen excitement in her mind as Adam prompted Simon’s standing ovation with “Mad World,” but realization only hit her, only hit her and knocked her down with a bulldozer, when Kris followed that with “Falling Slowly” the Tuesday after.
They’d - they’d been singing their hearts out. She bites her lip in frustration; she hates clichés as much as she hates herself for not recognizing paying attention to seeing the telltale signs she should’ve recognized paid attention to seen in Kris.
The song from Once had been the real eye-opener. Kris’ phone call during the week Adam had certainly shocked surprised offended aroused pleased someone anyone everyone who was watching had woken her up, but “Falling Slowly” had been the true bucket of ice-cold water. She’d looked at Kris from her seat in the audience, had looked and seen the way his expressions changed seamlessly as he transitioned from line to line; had looked and seen the way he closed his eyes and shyly let his hand rest on his stomach for a line, allowing a small, satisfied smile to creep onto his face; had looked and seen the very same signs she’d seen when he’d first attempted to serenade her-
-the very same signs she’d seen when they’d first started to fall in love.
See, that had been what hurt the most, what still drives a dagger through her heart every time she thinks about it - watching her husband fall in love with someone else, fall in love with someone else who was not her, fall in love with someone like Adam, fall in love with Adam, watching them and their kind-of-like-a-relationship relationship come together-
I don’t know you, but I want you all the more for that.
Raise your hopeful voice; you have a choice - you’ve made it known.
You have suffered enough and warred with yourself; it’s time that you won.
And in every definition of the word, Adam won. Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam won, and Katy knew it the moment Adam stepped onstage and delivered a flawless “If I Can’t Have You.” She’d seen heard felt breathed took in his pain and emotion and extension of I’m sorry it’s him I want I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean it maybe I meant it do you think I meant it I’m sorry I like him I love him I want him I need him, seen heard felt breathed took in the blatant honesty of his song, of his voice, of his eyes, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he’d won.
She saw his triumph again just earlier tonight when they’d all been floored at the announcement that Kris and Adam rounded out the bottom three with Matt, but she didn’t see it from Adam; she’d seen it in Kris. Kris who held confusion and disbelief and bewilderment and - and anger, maybe, she doesn’t know, Kris who held all those emotions and let them flash through his eyes. She’d been short of breath, her chest had been constricting, her eyes had been watering as she watched them, watched them reproachfully, and the bittersweetness of the moment caught her by surprise.
Come home, Kris, come home, come back, come home-
Go home, Adam, go home, go home, leave Kris alone, let him come back to me-
Oh dear God, please let Matt stay, Matt, please stay, please stay-
Stay, Kris, this is your dream, this is your dream, I hope you stay-
And Kris stayed. Kris stayed, but at that moment, she knew Adam was going to stay, too - there was no way Kris was going to let him go, not with - not with the way they’d held on to each other after Ryan’s proclamation of Kris’ safety from elimination. It had been clearer than crystal, the way they looked at each other just moments before Ryan spoke the words Katy wanted to hear dreaded to hear had to hear didn’t need to hear, the way Kris had shyly looked up and gave Adam a tiny smile, the way the taller singer responded with a tender look and a small smile of his own, and Katy isn’t blind.
Her eyes had been fixated on the way they’d disregarded Ryan’s arm - Ryan’s arm meant to guide Kris to safety, meant to guide Kris from Adam’s grasp, meant to guide Kris anywhere but Adam - on the way they’d shamelessly wrapped their arms around each other as Matt looked on, as the audience looked on, as the rest of the world looked on, and it frightened her how they’d been able to make Katy’s only thought why don’t you just kiss him and get it over with already, Adam?
No oh my God, Kris, you made it! sort of elation, no oh my God, oh my God, oh my God sort of relief, just a rancorous why the hell don’t you just get it over with, Adam? that planted itself in Katy’s mind and blossomed into a spurring moment of ill will toward the taller singer. It grew and it grew and it grew with every bit of applause, with each and every moment hands met and a sound formed, a sound meant to be of relief, of course, as cheers erupted and she’d nearly been deafened, but not to her not to her not to her, and it made her feel like mashed potatoes and gravy and bread had been shoved down her throat, couldn’t speak, couldn’t form words, made her chest tighten tighter tighter tighter, made her chest tighten like it’s doing now, and she hates what they’ve done to her, what they’ve made of her, and-
“Katy? Katy, honey, we’re here.”
She gasps, and looks up as her mother-in-law’s concerned face forehead wrinkled and eyes so endearingly bright with worry that the pain in her chest is gone in an instant, and suddenly, she is able to speak, able to breathe. “Oh,” she says in a small voice, “oh! Oh, uhm, okay.”
She unfastens her seatbelt, slightly twists her body and starts to open the door, but Kim puts a hand on her shoulder and she freezes. Katy exhales slowly, and asks without settling back into the seat, “Yes, momma?”
“Is something wrong, honey?” Katy doesn’t even dare to attempt to look her mother-in-law Kris’ mother her mother-in-law in the eye. “You - look a little pale.”
She shakes her head, “No, momma, I’m all right. Just a little hungry’s all.” And when she’s sure she can contort her face to a pleasant smile, when she’s sure her walls are up and her facial expressions are purely ecstatic and charming, she cranes her neck to look at Kim and smiles brightly. She continues with a little shrug, “You know how I get on Wednesdays.”
“Well,” Kim says, and she looks more than uncomfortable with settling for Katy’s pathetic excuse, more than unsure as she takes her hand off of Katy’s shoulder, “if you say so, dear.” Katy nods emphatically, and then opens the door, shivering and running her hands up and down her arms as the Los Angeles air sweeps by. They wait as the rest of the SUVs park and families begin to pour out of the black vehicles. The last one to park is the SUV with the final four and Matt, is the SUV that has Danny sitting in the front seat, that has Matt and Allison coming from the middle row, that has Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam coming from the back row, and she watches them, all smiles and laughs and arms thrown around shoulders, with an ever-green envy.
Her eyes narrow as Adam leans down to whisper something into Kris’ ear, slowly letting his arm fall to his side, wonders what it is as Kris tenses, straightens his back, and when he turns to Adam and she can see her husband’s profile under the streetlights, she can see that there is apprehension discomfort an almost-afraid-but-can’t-quite-get-there sort of look gracing his features, can see his expression harden and his jaw tighten. Adam looks like he wants to say something to Kris but is interrupted as Matt calls his name and says “Come on already, dammit!” and he responds with “Hold on, Matthew!” with an exaggerated British accent, is foiled again as his mother comes up to him and attempts to pry him away from Kris, but he says to her, “Go on, Mom, I just need to clear something up with Kris,” and Katy is grudgingly impressed with how well Adam handles his mother.
Leila nods to her son and follows Allison and her family into the restaurant as Adam turns once more to Kris and gives him a weighted look as he tilts his head to the side. Whatever they’d been discussing, it seems to have finally gotten through to Kris, and he simply releases slackens his shoulders and nods to Adam. The taller singer smiles, ruffles Kris’ hair, laughs at his miffed expression, and then enters the restaurant, shaking his head amusedly. Kris turns to her, turns to his family, and oh.
She gets it. She knows what they’d been talking about. Katy watches as Kris succumbs to a large hug from his mother, and she understands. She watches as he envelopes his friends in his arms, and to her, it feels as though Kris is taking longer and longer with each one on purpose. When he finally reaches her, he doesn’t dare to meet her eyes immediately, settles for casting them off to the side as he hugs her - and it’s nothing like the hugs he used to give her, no tightened grip, no hand on the small of her back, no hand across the nape of her neck, nothing - and only brings them up to meet her as he pulls away.
“Hey, Katy-bear,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against hers, and for a second, Katy is willing to drown herself in the moment, willing to let it envelop her and never release her, willing to ignore the crack in his voice as he says her old nickname, because this is how she wants them to be. “Let’s go in, yeah?”
She snakes her hand down his arm and interlocks their fingers, and is quick to hide her disappointment when his fingers don’t anchor onto hers.
“Yeah,” she says. “Okay. Let’s.”
(She might as well just walk in with a white flag in hand.)
-FIN-
Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. ♥.
cross-posted to: glambert_fic + idolslash
Author: ilytheira
Pairing: Kradam (Kris Allen/Adam Lambert)
Rating: PG13
Summary: ‘Stunned is the closest word to her reaction that night. Stunned dumbfounded surprised aghast openmouthed wide-eyed overwhelmed the feeling of I should’ve known no, why should I have known? damn it, I should have known!’
Notes: All the response everyone’s given to this fic is amazing - thank you so much. ♥. Writing this series has been a fantastic ride - it’s broken my writer’s block of nearly nine, ten months! - so I’m so happy with your positive feedback. :D One View is the final installment for this series, so I hope you’ll enjoy it!
Disclaimer: Neither Kris nor Adam, nor any of the people featured, or any of the songs below, belong to me.
All right. I attempted to break View into the normal five parts a la the first two installments, but then I realized, you know what, maybe not with this one. One part is enough. (:
Missed a part? Catch up!
- Seven Minutes ; Five Heartaches ; Two Catalysts ; Three Kisses
- Yeah, Me, I’m Missin’ You From Way ’Cross Town -
‘Do You Believe Me Now’ ; Jimmy Wayne
The only thing Katy dares to ask herself is how she hadn’t seen it sooner. Right now, she’s surprised that she’s actually in possession of enough self-control to keep her hands from slapping her face silly - she’s probably more surprised, though, at how she’s kept it from giving her a wake-up call for so long. She’d - she’d seen it clearly tonight, had seen what so many others had seen before her, had seen what so many others had chosen to willingly see. She’d - she’d seen Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam so very clearly, so painfully clearly that the images are forever burned into her memory, are sitting there now with the snapshots from last week and the two, three weeks before that. Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam.
Katy realizes that it’s selfishness that rears its ugly head when no, no, no, no, Kris should be coming home Kris should be coming home Matt should still be there runs through her mind, when the thought of no, no, no, no, Kris should be the one sent packing, be the one let out of that mansion, be the one away away away from Adam runs through her mind. The rush of emotions she feels as she thinks about Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam sharing a bedroom a bathroom a home together is a tornado sweeping her away, perfectly poised and prepared to take her down and render her world unrecognizable.
She honest-to-God doesn’t know how she hadn’t seen it earlier, doesn’t know how she hadn’t picked up on it earlier. Thinking back now, now as they’re ushered into black SUVs that rev up and prepare to zoom down the streets of Los Angeles, now as they head to a restaurant where they’ll celebrate Matt’s journey, now as they head to a restaurant where she’ll see Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam, she’s surprised to realize that no matter how many times Kris had mentioned Adam during their phone calls during the Hollywood rounds, she’d never been bothered by it. She smiles bitterly and shakes her head, crossing her legs and looking out the window, attempting to focus on the fluctuations of the lights, in and out, up and down, side to side. The fascination - there just isn’t another word for it - had all started so many months ago when, at ten past midnight, she had received a phone call from Kris, Kris so bright and happy and cheerful and awed, Kris raving on and on and on about Adam - who she’d only known then as one of Kris’ first friends out in Hollywood, who she only knew then as the tall singer who wore guyliner and wore his hair in a black so dark his hair looked blue under the sun at just the right angle (it had amused Katy, actually, when he did end up having cobalt streaks in his hair), who stood out from any crowd with his sense of style - and how he’d tackled, of all songs, “Believe” by Cher.
“He’s - so awesome, Katy, like - I’m not even kidding! Y’know? Like - like when you think about that song, it’s like, oh, you know, disco and bright lights and Cher, you know? It’s karaoke at three a.m. with your friends after you’ve downed a case of Hennessy with us, but, Katy, him? He’s - he’s different, Katy, the - the way he sang it? It was just so - so - y’know?”
And she’d laughed at his inability to form what he could pretend to present was a coherent thought. She’d also just dismissed his unabashed admiration with a fond smile, a shake of her head, and a gentle “Oh, Kris; yeah - yeah, I know” not only because it was nearing twelve-thirty and she’d really wanted to get some rest despite the fact that the call had been a pleasant surprise, but because he’d just met the other singer, had just recently become friends with him. It was only natural, she’d told herself then; a simple curiosity, a natural insatiable thirst for more that couldn’t be helped, an admiration with what was fresh and new and exciting and out-of-this-world extraordinary. Now more than ever, she knows that there are certainly more adjectives and more superlatives that can be added to her description for the phenomena “Hollywood’s own! - Adam Lambert!” is to become, is becoming, will remain as.
What person wouldn’t have been intrigued by the way Adam carried himself, presented himself, a flawless performer able to tackle any song every song on stage but a kind man, a gentle man, a humble man off stage, willing to take time away from his performances to help others on theirs? What person wouldn’t fall under the spell of a man who could reduce to Paula to senseless nothings and everythings each and every week, more so than any other year; who could make Randy sound more like a broken record than ever (Katy doesn’t think she’s ever heard so many “yo’s” before); who could render Kara awed and speechless and incoherent and unable to count or differentiate between John Travolta and Fred Armisen; who could bring a smile onto Simon’s face every night without missing a heartbeat or bring the praise-elusive judge to stand on his feet in laudatory applause?
Katy leans her forehead against the window and sighs, momentarily raising it to smile at her mother-in-law and say “Yeah, I’m good; a little hungry, still reeling from the whole bottom three thing,” before pressing it against the window again. She watches the glass fog up slightly as she exhales, writes k+k like she used to during the first months of their relationship, then shakes her head and quickly erases it, leaning away and settling against the leather upholstery.
She has to admit that Kris’ - fascination (she really can’t find another word for it), and not only is it Kris’ fascination but the world’s fascination with Adam, is not an enigma. Of course she’s intrigued, too, and of course she’s fascinated, too, in fact, she’s miles and miles beyond intrigued or fascinated. Who wouldn’t be intrigued by the taller singer’s voice and looks and style and charm and presence? She’s sat down and exchanged stories about Kris with him on their first week in the mansion; she’s playfully talked Maybelline and MAC and Sephora with him; she’s heard about the pictures and seen the articles in Star and OK! and every other tabloid that’s chosen to speak about him; she’s heard all the chatter about her husband’s “BFF” (a voice in her head says best friends forever or boyfriends forever? snidely, says it venomously, but she’s quick to lock it in a box and throw away the key), in fact, she’s seen the clip of the O’Reilly show - but it’s none of that that interests her.
What interests her is - is them as a whole; not just Kris or Adam, not just Adam or Kris, but Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam. Kris and Adam as they’re going over song choices for that week’s theme night; Adam and Kris as they squabble at dinner over a slight over-extension of a note or a failed improvisation during dress rehearsal; Kradam as they’re filming that week’s commercial, high fives and hands on shoulders and pats on backs; Kradam as they wave good night to their fellow competitors and head to their bedroom; Kradam as Kris calls her in the aftermath of a night together with Adam, and-
“Katy? Katy, I - I have something to tell you.
“I - I slept with someone, Katy, I slept with someone, and-
“I slept with Adam, Katy.”
Stunned is the closest word to her reaction that night. Stunned dumbfounded surprised aghast openmouthed wide-eyed overwhelmed the feeling of I should’ve known no, why should I have known? damn it, I should have known! She’d cried and yelled and drove herself crazy how how how why why why and cried some more and yelled some more and probably drove Kris insane why why why how how how, probably started to drive Kris away with every breath she took, every how could you-? why did you-? she spoke. She’d noticed the widening distance between them, but not before she’d noticed the marginally wide gap between him and Adam. The first sighting had been at the dinner after Michael’s elimination, and she didn’t know what to make of their awkward coldness toward each other, of Kris’ awkward toleration of her be happy be happy it’ll be okay? be worried be worried what about Kris’ happiness?
Come Megan’s elimination the week after, however, she’d been a witness to the sort-of resurgence of their more-than-a-friendship friendship just as easily as she’d spotted the previous week’s lack of it, as easily as she’d spotted the way they’d hugged Megan and held on to her as though she was the only one who kept them in their right state of minds - in fact, as easily as she’d spotted the awkward discomfort in Kris as he draped a tense arm around her shoulder. Scott’s departure dinner the following week only highlighted the fact that Megan had been their bridge despite their convincing camaraderie during the results show, but bridge or no bridge, something - something changed the week after that, and ever since, how could I not have noticed? why didn’t I notice? since when has this been-? has been her constant train of thought.
Nothing Kris or Adam or anyone say or do will shake her awe at Adam’s “Tracks of My Tears” - that had been amazing. When Kris went onstage with “Ain’t No Sunshine” the week after, following Adam, who’d played his funky music and played it excellently, she’d been blown away. It happened again, the whole did he really just do that? did that just really happen? oh my God, he really did just do that oh my God, that really did just happen excitement in her mind as Adam prompted Simon’s standing ovation with “Mad World,” but realization only hit her, only hit her and knocked her down with a bulldozer, when Kris followed that with “Falling Slowly” the Tuesday after.
They’d - they’d been singing their hearts out. She bites her lip in frustration; she hates clichés as much as she hates herself for not recognizing paying attention to seeing the telltale signs she should’ve recognized paid attention to seen in Kris.
The song from Once had been the real eye-opener. Kris’ phone call during the week Adam had certainly shocked surprised offended aroused pleased someone anyone everyone who was watching had woken her up, but “Falling Slowly” had been the true bucket of ice-cold water. She’d looked at Kris from her seat in the audience, had looked and seen the way his expressions changed seamlessly as he transitioned from line to line; had looked and seen the way he closed his eyes and shyly let his hand rest on his stomach for a line, allowing a small, satisfied smile to creep onto his face; had looked and seen the very same signs she’d seen when he’d first attempted to serenade her-
-the very same signs she’d seen when they’d first started to fall in love.
See, that had been what hurt the most, what still drives a dagger through her heart every time she thinks about it - watching her husband fall in love with someone else, fall in love with someone else who was not her, fall in love with someone like Adam, fall in love with Adam, watching them and their kind-of-like-a-relationship relationship come together-
I don’t know you, but I want you all the more for that.
Raise your hopeful voice; you have a choice - you’ve made it known.
You have suffered enough and warred with yourself; it’s time that you won.
And in every definition of the word, Adam won. Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam won, and Katy knew it the moment Adam stepped onstage and delivered a flawless “If I Can’t Have You.” She’d seen heard felt breathed took in his pain and emotion and extension of I’m sorry it’s him I want I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean it maybe I meant it do you think I meant it I’m sorry I like him I love him I want him I need him, seen heard felt breathed took in the blatant honesty of his song, of his voice, of his eyes, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he’d won.
She saw his triumph again just earlier tonight when they’d all been floored at the announcement that Kris and Adam rounded out the bottom three with Matt, but she didn’t see it from Adam; she’d seen it in Kris. Kris who held confusion and disbelief and bewilderment and - and anger, maybe, she doesn’t know, Kris who held all those emotions and let them flash through his eyes. She’d been short of breath, her chest had been constricting, her eyes had been watering as she watched them, watched them reproachfully, and the bittersweetness of the moment caught her by surprise.
Come home, Kris, come home, come back, come home-
Go home, Adam, go home, go home, leave Kris alone, let him come back to me-
Oh dear God, please let Matt stay, Matt, please stay, please stay-
Stay, Kris, this is your dream, this is your dream, I hope you stay-
And Kris stayed. Kris stayed, but at that moment, she knew Adam was going to stay, too - there was no way Kris was going to let him go, not with - not with the way they’d held on to each other after Ryan’s proclamation of Kris’ safety from elimination. It had been clearer than crystal, the way they looked at each other just moments before Ryan spoke the words Katy wanted to hear dreaded to hear had to hear didn’t need to hear, the way Kris had shyly looked up and gave Adam a tiny smile, the way the taller singer responded with a tender look and a small smile of his own, and Katy isn’t blind.
Her eyes had been fixated on the way they’d disregarded Ryan’s arm - Ryan’s arm meant to guide Kris to safety, meant to guide Kris from Adam’s grasp, meant to guide Kris anywhere but Adam - on the way they’d shamelessly wrapped their arms around each other as Matt looked on, as the audience looked on, as the rest of the world looked on, and it frightened her how they’d been able to make Katy’s only thought why don’t you just kiss him and get it over with already, Adam?
No oh my God, Kris, you made it! sort of elation, no oh my God, oh my God, oh my God sort of relief, just a rancorous why the hell don’t you just get it over with, Adam? that planted itself in Katy’s mind and blossomed into a spurring moment of ill will toward the taller singer. It grew and it grew and it grew with every bit of applause, with each and every moment hands met and a sound formed, a sound meant to be of relief, of course, as cheers erupted and she’d nearly been deafened, but not to her not to her not to her, and it made her feel like mashed potatoes and gravy and bread had been shoved down her throat, couldn’t speak, couldn’t form words, made her chest tighten tighter tighter tighter, made her chest tighten like it’s doing now, and she hates what they’ve done to her, what they’ve made of her, and-
“Katy? Katy, honey, we’re here.”
She gasps, and looks up as her mother-in-law’s concerned face forehead wrinkled and eyes so endearingly bright with worry that the pain in her chest is gone in an instant, and suddenly, she is able to speak, able to breathe. “Oh,” she says in a small voice, “oh! Oh, uhm, okay.”
She unfastens her seatbelt, slightly twists her body and starts to open the door, but Kim puts a hand on her shoulder and she freezes. Katy exhales slowly, and asks without settling back into the seat, “Yes, momma?”
“Is something wrong, honey?” Katy doesn’t even dare to attempt to look her mother-in-law Kris’ mother her mother-in-law in the eye. “You - look a little pale.”
She shakes her head, “No, momma, I’m all right. Just a little hungry’s all.” And when she’s sure she can contort her face to a pleasant smile, when she’s sure her walls are up and her facial expressions are purely ecstatic and charming, she cranes her neck to look at Kim and smiles brightly. She continues with a little shrug, “You know how I get on Wednesdays.”
“Well,” Kim says, and she looks more than uncomfortable with settling for Katy’s pathetic excuse, more than unsure as she takes her hand off of Katy’s shoulder, “if you say so, dear.” Katy nods emphatically, and then opens the door, shivering and running her hands up and down her arms as the Los Angeles air sweeps by. They wait as the rest of the SUVs park and families begin to pour out of the black vehicles. The last one to park is the SUV with the final four and Matt, is the SUV that has Danny sitting in the front seat, that has Matt and Allison coming from the middle row, that has Kris and Adam Adam and Kris Kradam Kradam Kradam coming from the back row, and she watches them, all smiles and laughs and arms thrown around shoulders, with an ever-green envy.
Her eyes narrow as Adam leans down to whisper something into Kris’ ear, slowly letting his arm fall to his side, wonders what it is as Kris tenses, straightens his back, and when he turns to Adam and she can see her husband’s profile under the streetlights, she can see that there is apprehension discomfort an almost-afraid-but-can’t-quite-get-there sort of look gracing his features, can see his expression harden and his jaw tighten. Adam looks like he wants to say something to Kris but is interrupted as Matt calls his name and says “Come on already, dammit!” and he responds with “Hold on, Matthew!” with an exaggerated British accent, is foiled again as his mother comes up to him and attempts to pry him away from Kris, but he says to her, “Go on, Mom, I just need to clear something up with Kris,” and Katy is grudgingly impressed with how well Adam handles his mother.
Leila nods to her son and follows Allison and her family into the restaurant as Adam turns once more to Kris and gives him a weighted look as he tilts his head to the side. Whatever they’d been discussing, it seems to have finally gotten through to Kris, and he simply releases slackens his shoulders and nods to Adam. The taller singer smiles, ruffles Kris’ hair, laughs at his miffed expression, and then enters the restaurant, shaking his head amusedly. Kris turns to her, turns to his family, and oh.
She gets it. She knows what they’d been talking about. Katy watches as Kris succumbs to a large hug from his mother, and she understands. She watches as he envelopes his friends in his arms, and to her, it feels as though Kris is taking longer and longer with each one on purpose. When he finally reaches her, he doesn’t dare to meet her eyes immediately, settles for casting them off to the side as he hugs her - and it’s nothing like the hugs he used to give her, no tightened grip, no hand on the small of her back, no hand across the nape of her neck, nothing - and only brings them up to meet her as he pulls away.
“Hey, Katy-bear,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against hers, and for a second, Katy is willing to drown herself in the moment, willing to let it envelop her and never release her, willing to ignore the crack in his voice as he says her old nickname, because this is how she wants them to be. “Let’s go in, yeah?”
She snakes her hand down his arm and interlocks their fingers, and is quick to hide her disappointment when his fingers don’t anchor onto hers.
“Yeah,” she says. “Okay. Let’s.”
(She might as well just walk in with a white flag in hand.)
-FIN-
Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. ♥.
cross-posted to: glambert_fic + idolslash