Parachute I Adam/Blake I Chapter One: Warmth
Title: Parachute
Author: Me
Rating/Warning: Eh....if you are in this fandom, then it's PG-13, but know that there's Adam and Blake, who love to fucking swear! May increase later.
Words: 2, 432
Pairing: Adam/Blake ~of course!
Warnings: Cursing, disability, possible thoughts of suicide, angst, etc.
Notes: This is for a user on here, who's name escapes me, who wanted a disibility! story. This is my crack at the prompt, I hope it works!
Summary: Jumping into the unknown was risky, especially when all you knew was the wind racing past your ears. He didn't need it though, his sight; he had Blake.
ENJOY!
No day was worth his attention, his attempts to be normal. No matter how much his voice burned with intensity or how high he stood despite his average height; there was always a moment where he had everything, almost.
The surroundings would be silent to his sensitive eardrums, numb to the millions of cells that made up his birthday suit, clean to the nerves that told him that he had let the toast burn (again), bland to the slithering flesh that stroked his teeth every other moment, and there would be darkness. Unforgiving; a pitched room that let nothing in except him, four walls enclosing to remind him that no matter what happened since that day: He was alone.
This was his reasoning as he lay cocooned in Egyptian cotton, a six hundred count set that he had received from her after she claimed his other set was worn out, to not get out of bed. For some reason, the sandman decided that the most comfortable position, and perfect temperature, of sleep should be achieved when you woke and were supposed to get up. He was sure that the fucker had done it as revenge; the man helped others sleep, it was unlikely that the man was able to sleep himself.
Why anyone in their right mind started the day before nine was beyond him, everyone should be able to enjoy the warm tingles across their skin that was one of the universal ways to achieve comfort.
Currently he was on his back, the pressure on his shoulder blades telling him this instead of the movement of objects in the room. Why he was not on his right shoulder, which is where he had awaken, was because he had been forced to roll to shut up the stupid machine trying to tell him that it was six forty five in the fucking morning. Despite the fact that it was doing the thing that it was made to, well other than playing shitty music off the radio, and he should not blame it for having to get up so early; he had thrown the thing into what he assumed was the wall. The crunch of cheap and replaceable plastic brought a small smile, although he knew that Avery would get him another.
He had a suspicion that she brought on to work with her each day, since she just knew that he would break the most recent one; although he had yet to confirm it. Another theory, that came to mind as he flexed his toes while burrowing deeper in the blankets, was that she had just had the place rigged with cameras so that she knew he had broken something and knew to bring something with her when she arrived at seven. Why she set the alarm clock early, when she knew she would have to wake him up herself, was something he had yet to understand.
Oh well, he mentally huffed as a slight cold breeze breached his layer of fuzziness, making him twist his body inwards in order to avoid anything colder than his little bubble.
Apparently, the bubble was comprised of dark blue fabric with silver notes scattered randomly, the firm/soft combination of pillows breaking the ocean of soft by being a piano. Black and white keys were under his head, which gave him little comfort though it was his favorite instrument. She had told him, in great detail, as he had slowly helped her spread it out and smooth the creases that came from it being packaged. It had been perfect, as he had told her, though somewhere in the back of his mind he knew she could easily be bullshitting him for shits and giggles.
Really, it didn’t matter; but he knew she wouldn’t.
Avery was capable of screwing him over, she was the lifeline that kept him from floating off and more importantly prevent him from being hit by a car, without her he was even more helpless than usual. Sure he could do the basics within the walls of his apartment, but beyond that he was fucked, plain and simple. Considering that she was his closest friend, beside the band, he knew the odds of being screwed over were very low, which helped since he trusted her with his life.
She had finally been the one to tell him to man the fuck up after the incident when no one else, not Jesse, not Mickey, had done it; turned out that is what he had needed to get his head out of his ass. One day they had been doing something, he really didn’t remember nor did he need to, and then he had heard a voice that been like a slap to the face. The literal slap had come later as she swung through to turn him on his axis like a hurricane of fucking craziness; he had invited her to be his ‘helper’ a week later. She had accepted, to his excitement since he had desperately needed a person to keep up with him…
The door slammed coupled with the steps of heels. Dammit, it couldn’t be seven already. His body curled deeper into blue in preparation for what had just come through the door.
“RISE AND SHINE MOTHERFUCKER!”
…as well to his despair, since it turned out that she knew how to get him to do what he needed to do even if he didn’t want to do it. Like get out of bed. It was hell on earth that he had found someone with an ego to match his own that had no qualms about dishing out hot plates of sarcasm and curses.
Something between a mumble and a groan escaped his vocals as he hugged while trying to make the sweet fabric a second skin. He was tempted to say ‘five more minutes’ although he knew it wouldn’t work; he just clutched to the relaxed state of his muscles as she walked right outside of his nonexistent vision.
He did what he did every morning before the sketchy appearance of her ripped him from his safety net, he thought back to grasp at the straws of whatever his dreams had been composed of. For the most part, his dreams had adapted as he had to a lack of light in his eyes. He no longer saw images, but instead just the sensations.
Lately it had been his skin that had come to the awake state with bolts of lightning seeming to crawl across; with hot breaths wisping across to cool the overheated nerves. It was surprisingly not erotic, but instead of comfort since the heat would always come from another body fitting perfectly with his. The moment of consciousness beginning with his head on a living pillow instead of a stuffed one. But he always ended up alone when it all ended, no matter how real it seemed. ..
“Bitch” He hissed as the comforter and sheet was yanked away, causing him to do the adult version of whining as a baby might do. While he was an adult, he knew what this was going to come to: she was going to have to drag him kicking and screaming off the custom king side bed. No matter how much sleep he achieved, it was always this way.
Always.
And she knew it.
“Adam…” She said smoothly with a tint of warmth, although he could almost hear her jaw smile as he tried to curl up to conserve heat. A hand, one that he knew was her right one from the scar on her middle finger that was from a cutting mistake with a butcher knife, touched his arm gingerly. It was just enough force to let him know she was there, but not enough to make him even more helpless.
“Go away” She knew he didn’t mean it, that it was just the foul mood talking; she had been there; she knew exactly how he felt. Well at least for the most part, she could see.
The mattress gave way, just a little, as her hips settled on it to lean closer to him. His personal space was invaded, a move that he usually shuddered at. His space always had to be secure, always under his control; a person that was unknown coming into that could mean disaster.
Smooth skin slightly cooler than his own moved his hair just a bit; Avery was not an unknown which was the only reason why he was allowing the touch and why he was not thrashing in any direction other than where the intruder was coming from.
“You’ve got places to be” The voice was deeper than his mother’s, but it was still feminine. The deepness to it brought comfort, wrapping itself around him to the point where he considered digging himself out of the fetal position…
…
…nope, not happening.
“Really?” He replied in a sarcastic tone that was almost dripping with venom, but she wouldn’t be moved.
She shifted slightly, he grinned knowing that her green eyes were rolling at him being a smartass. Well at least he thought they were green, when the truth was they could be purple for all he knew. Although if they were purple, instead of green, he wouldn’t be pissed off that she had lied, oh no, he would be pissed because he could see the awesomeness that was purple pupils.
He closed his limbs closer to him in the silence, wishing that today could just be one of those days where he could just stay in bed and just forget the world, everyone, and everything.
“Don’t make me turn it on” He froze, that wasn’t a threat said lightly; they must be really late.
Of course he had to call her bluff “You wouldn’t”
If he could see, she probably would be giving him a look of ‘you know I will’ but he knew that was exactly what she was thinking as her weight dissipated from the bed toward the CD player.
“Avery!” He struck out a thin air as he uncoiled from his ball, almost falling off the bed in the process as he tried to prevent the horrendous thing from reaching his year.
There was a chuckle to his right; damn sadistic bitch.
His vocal chords prepared to yell at her when it came to wreak havoc on his precious eardrums.
“Baby, Baby, Baby…..ohhhhhhh….like baby, baby, baby....nooooo”
“TURN IT OFF DAMMIT!!!!”
It only became louder.
He went to shove his pillow around his ears to find that they were gone; his scream of frustration was almost lost in the ‘music’. Why couldn’t he have lost his HEARING instead?!
“Like baby, baby, baby….ohhhhhhh….I thought you’d always be mine…”
“ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!?”
He felt around on the cool floor for the damn music buffers, balancing to make sure he didn’t kill himself…although right now he really wished he could.
Apparently that was her only goal in life.
“Baby, Baby, Baby…..ohhhhhhh….like baby, baby, baby....nooooo”
“I’M UP, I’M UP!!” He tumbled out of the quickly cooling bed, righting himself on his feet in irritation; careful not to make any other moves that could result in him breaking something like a lamp (like he had last week) in his unbalanced state caused by the horrid pre-puberty screeching by the female ‘artist’.
It was still playing….
“Like baby, baby, baby….ohhhhhhh….I thought you’d always be mine…”
He sank to his knees in careful dramatics before bowing “SPARE ME OH MIGHTY BITCH! YOU ARE THE GOD OF ALL!”
There was another laugh, not of the evil kind as the music dissipated to silence.
A hand appeared on his shoulder, before helping him to stand once more.
“Was that so hard?” She knew the answer, so he just quirked his eyebrows and smirked in a combination that still worked even after sight.
The hardwood under his feet changed to carpet, telling him that they were entering the closet. Hopefully she wouldn’t dress him in disco today…
“So, jeans or jeans?”
Everyone was here, well almost anyway; which was fine with him, he wasn’t really sure he wanted to do this anyway. Sure, it was going to have his music promoted and it sounded like fun, but he was going to be a coach. A mentor to some hopeful youth who more than likely wouldn’t make it; was it a cynical view? Yes, but it was the truth. For each famous artist there was a hundred or more who had failed.
He wasn’t sure he could handle being in the position, to see the faces of the hopeful and try and coach them through it. He wasn’t ready.
Yet he was here, damn manager.
Supposedly there was one last coach they were missing and from what he had heard he was a bit of everything. Tattoos, language, and everything else was mixed together to for the reputation he had heard of.
And as the blonde bust, errr woman he had met earlier by her formally batting her eyelashes at him talked to the darker cousin to Santa Claus, the shared genetic traits being happiness all around and smiles, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be the outcast of the group. The other two flowed seamlessly, already establishing roles and who was going to do what. The soon to arrive would probably do the same, leaving his huge self on the outside.
Most saw him as intimidating, but that just hurt him when it came to immersing himself in a social setting. He wished he was hunting or drinking; although both would be perfect. The burn of his throat accompanied by the chill of the metal at his fingertips in the crisp morning air…
The screech of rubber snapped him to reality, he looked just in time to see the driver of the black escalade set out.
In heels.
Unless the man was a cross dresser, in a tight skirt, over sized shirt, and earrings he assumed that wasn’t the other judge.
The red headed woman did not spare them a glance, not even with the blonde and her breasts looking on, while circling the car to the passenger side.
Classic piano filtered into the humid air, faintly reaching his ears, making him reconsider the genre he thought the newest judge to be in.
But of course that was blown out of the water when he saw the long white can, which could only signify one thing, hit the ground in time with black masculine shoes.
Well, he thought off handedly as the truth of the situation sunk in, this was going to be interesting.
Tada!
To the user who requested this, I hope you enjoyed! I hope you all enjoyed!
How was it? Is it descriptive enough?! Tell me!