Beside You - Part 2

Jul 19, 2010 17:17



-2-

On Monday, Adam hears from Jim Sloan, one of their linebackers, that there were representatives from some local colleges scouting for good players at the game. Adam had played decently, and he’s been playing well all year, so he’s about eight to eighty-five percent certain he’ll eventually be offered a scholarship to play next year.

But Adam has no interest in doing that, even though he knows it’ll be hard to say no to a scholarship, especially when his dad has been so rah-rah-rah about it. Secretly, Adam hopes he won’t get an offer at all.

The week’s practices are especially rough on Adam. Coach Miller gives Adam and his teammates several pep talks and makes them all do one hundred laps around the field before they even start in on their regular drills, and on the drive home on Thursday, Adam can feel the ache settling in his over-worked muscles and knows he’ll be feeling it tomorrow. He comforts himself with the notion that he’ll be ready to face the Bobcats in a week’s time.

He walks up to his house with a heavy, exhausted sigh, letting himself in and leaving his shoes by the door. He ventures gingerly into the kitchen, where his mom’s reading at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of her.

“Hey,” Adam sighs, going to the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of Gatorade and drinking half the bottle in two long, parched swallows.

“Hi honey!” Leila says. “How was practice?”

Adam leans against the counter and sips his Gatorade distractedly. “Rough. Miller really rode us today.”

“Awww,” Leila coos, getting up to give Adam a kiss on the cheek. She hugs him gently, careful not to squeeze him too hard. “Poor baby.”

Adam pulls his mom closer with an arm around her shoulder and kisses her on the forehead. “I’m not a baby anymore, Mom.”

“Oh, I know,” she says indulgently. “Neil’s the baby.”

Adam snorts. “Oh, I’m so repeating that to him.”

“Don’t you dare,” Leila warns, laughing. “Come on, sit down and give your body a break.”

Adam sits down gratefully, finishing his drink and placing the bottle on the table in front of him. “How was your day?” Adam asks, peeling the label off the bottle.

“Excellent! Talked to a few clients, clinched a few deals.”

“Good,” Adam hums in reply, using his thumbnail to scrape some of the glue off the bottle.

“How’s the project coming along?” Leila asks, pulling the bottle out of Adam’s hands and placing it in the recycling bin next to the stove. She smiles knowingly at him when she turns back, and Adam looks down at the table.

“Fine,” he replies. “Good.” A heavy silence fills the kitchen that’s broken by the entrance of Adam’s brother. “Hey,” he grunts, sitting down in the empty chair between Adam and his mom.

“Hey,” Leila says warmly, ruffling Neil’s hair. Neil jerks away.

“Jeez, Mom, I’m not eight.”

“I don’t care,” Leila says flippantly. “I’ll still be doing that to you when you’re thirty, so get used to it, sweetie.”

“Great,” Neil intones dryly. “Something to look forward to.”

Adam hides his amused smirk by pursing his lips together. Leila sighs. The oven timer goes off at that moment, and Adam and Neil jump as Leila scrambles to turn the buzzer off and remove a tray of lasagne from the oven and place it on the counter. She busies herself with preparing each of them a heaping plate, and then she sits down with her own and says, “Okay. Nice conversation, yes? How was your day, Neil?”

“Terrible,” Neil says flatly.

“Why?” Adam surprises himself by asking.

Neil glances up suspiciously and shrugs. “I hate everyone there.”

“What’s the problem?” Leila asks.

“The problem,” Neil snaps, slapping his fork down onto his plate with a clang, “is that I shouldn’t be in a stupid school where I’m not learning anything new. I’m so bored!”

“I’m sorry,” Leila says in a comforting voice. “Maybe we can talk to the school about getting you some more challenging work?”

Neil sighs. “I don’t know if that would make a difference, really.”

“Well, we’ll try,” Leila says positively. Neil continues to grumpily pout at his food until Leila rubs his shoulder, and then he gives her a feeble smile and starts eating.

“So,” Adam says conversationally, “a girl at school asked me out the other day.”

That grabs their attention very quickly, and they’re wearing similar expressions of surprise on their faces when Adam looks up from his plate.

“She must’ve been disappointed,” Neil says thickly around a large mouthful of food a few moments later.

“You’re fucking gross, dude,” Adam says, tapping Neil on the side of the head with his hand, which Neil swats at, giving Adam a dirty look. “And what makes you think I said no?”

“Uhhh, the fact that you’re obviously not interested?” Neil offers sarcastically.

“And how do you ‘obviously’ know that?” Adam asks testily.

Neil fixes Adam with a calm but deeply significant look. “I think you already know the answer to that, dude.”

Adam looks swiftly down at the table and feels like a cornered animal. Tears fill his eyes, and he breathes deeply through his nose. If Neil knows the secret Adam’s worked so hard to keep, does that mean his mom knows? His dad? And when exactly did Neil figure it out?

Adam looks up and right at Neil, who’s looking at Adam with something resembling sympathy. “How long have you known?” he asks quietly.

Neil stares wide-eyed at Adam for several moments, and then he sags heavily into his chair. “Whoa,” he mumbles. “Is this…? Are you…?” he trails off.

Adam feels his hand trembling on his fork. “How long have you known?” he repeats, a little harder this time. Adam sees Neil look over at their mom, who seems just as shocked as Neil. Maybe she didn’t know?

“Honey,” Leila says gently, leaning forward, “Your dad and I wanted you to work it out for yourself, so we asked Neil not to bother you about it. He sort of listened,” she adds, giving Neil a sharp look. Neil shrugs.

Adam feels a tear slip down his cheek. “Yeah, but… how did you know?”

“It was just a feeling,” Leila replies, reaching across the table to grasp Adam’s hand in hers. “Sweetie, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s okay. It’s great! It’s good to be honest with yourself.”

Adam swallows thickly, frowning at each of them in turn. “It’s just… Have I been really obvious? Do you think people at school know?”

“Does it matter?” Neil asks frankly. “You’re only gonna be with those idiots for a few more months and then you’re done. If they do know, if they even give a shit, it won’t matter this time next year. And if they do have an issue, it’s their issue. Just be you, man.”

“Thank you, Dr Phil,” Adam quips half-heartedly. Neil smirks; Adam sighs. “So you’re really okay with it?”

“What!? Of course!” says Neil fervently.

“We love you no matter what, Adam,” Leila says warmly. “We just want you to be happy.”

Adam feels another tear drip down his face, and he clears his throat and wipes it away quickly before starting in on his dinner. He is unbelievably touched by how much his family loves and accepts him.

And he can’t help but think that wasn’t so hard.

---

Adam picks Dani up at her house the next morning to bring her to school. She’s waiting for him out front, and she waves and moves around the car to slide into the passenger seat. Adam kills the engine and turns to her when she’s seated properly. She gives him a curious look, and Adam squeezes the steering wheel with his hands and lets out a long breath.

“I’m gay,” he says softly. It’s surprisingly easy to say.

Dani’s eyes bug out for about three seconds, and then she squeals. She sits forward, grabs her knees and actually squeals.

“Oh BABY!” she shrieks, reaching across the space between them to pull him into an enthusiastic hug. “Ohmygodohmygod, you - I can’t - oh Adam!” she gasps, kissing him soundly on the cheek, “I’m so happy you told me!”

“You are?” he says, pulling away slightly to peer at her face.

“Of course!” she cries. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me for years!”

“What!?” Adam shouts. “How long have YOU known!?”

She laughs, collapsing against her seat with one hand clutching her chest. “Sweetie,” she says gently, “I figured it out when we watched Labyrinth together, the first time. You love David Bowie the way I love Jon Stewart, okay? I just knew.”

Adam pouts. “Hey. I respect him as an artistic performer.”

“Uh huh,” Dani says, grinning. She lets out another little squeal. “Oh, this is awesome! We can bar-hop for boys together!”

Adam laughs at that, long and hard. “You are so ridiculous, Dani!”

“Yup. And that’s why you love me,” Dani trills.

“Yeah,” Adam agrees with a smile, starting the car and beginning the drive to school.

Adam’s starting to wonder what he was so afraid of; this is easy. But more importantly, it’s good to finally get out in the open, good to finally get it off his chest.

---

Adam and Kris spend that evening working on their project at Adam’s house. They work without interruption for about an hour, and then Adam starts getting restless.

Adam glances up from the book he’s taking notes from and looks over at Kris, whose head is bent over his own book. Kris is biting his lip in concentration, rubbing and twisting his left earlobe with the fingers of his left hand absent-mindedly, and tapping his pen on the edge of the book in his lap.

Adam watches him quietly for several minutes. There’s this feeling in his chest like his ribcage is closing in on his heart, and his fingers itch to reach out and touch Kris’ neck and face, to stroke through his hair. He clenches his hand into a fist and breathes out deeply.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Adam asks. Kris’s head snaps up, and he meets Adam’s eyes. Adam feels his stomach clench, and rubs his right knee nervously.

Kris nods. “That would be perfect right now, actually,” Kris admits, pushing the book in his lap onto Adam’s bed and stretching his arms above his head, yawning widely. Adam tears his gaze away from the exposed skin on Kris’ stomach, shutting his eyes tightly.

Adam pushes himself off the bed and goes to get a hoodie from his chest of drawers. He yanks it on over his Goldfrapp t-shirt, and turns around to find Kris watching him. They share a smile and set off on their walk.

Behind Adam’s house is a path that leads down to a brook where there are some large rocks for Adam and Kris to sit on, side-by-side, just a few inches from the rushing water. The sun is just starting to disappear as they sit in contemplative silence. Adam can think of nothing to say, and on this night the quiet feels too sacred to break with idle chatter.

Eventually, Kris, staring up at the darkening sky and slowly appearing stars, says, “It’s nights like these that make me… that convince me there’s something out there that created all this.”

Adam turns his head to survey Kris’ profile. Kris looks so completely beautiful that it takes Adam’s breath away for a few moments, but Adam lets out a shaky breath and says, “Yeah. I like to believe there’s some higher power out there. I’m not so hot on organized religion, but I do value spirituality and faith and all that.”

“Mmm,” Kris hums, “I get that completely. My parents raised me Christian, but… I don’t know, I don’t think people have to believe in one religion or another, or that there’s only one right way to believe. I just find it comforting to believe there’s someone out there watching out for… for the people I care about.”

Adam smiles; he feels warm, like he’s been sunbathing for hours. “I do, too,” he says. Then he lapses into silence, watching the water ripple over a rock in its stream.

The night sounds and rushing water are the only noise in their vicinity until Kris starts singing quietly, almost under his breath, “I don’t know you but I want you all the more for that/Words fall through me, always fool me, and I can't react.”

If Adam wasn’t already pretty much head over heels for Kris, this would have pushed him over the edge for sure. Kris’ voice is utterly gorgeous, longing and intimate with every word he sings. Adam doesn’t want Kris to stop. Not ever. When he does eventually stop singing a few minutes later, Adam has tears in his eyes. He can’t even manage a smile for Kris when he finally brings himself to look over. Kris looks so anxious, and Adam can’t stand that look on him. He brushes his hand over Kris’ shoulder and exhales shakily.

“Kris,” he mumbles, “why have you been keeping that a secret?”

Kris looks away, shrugging. “I - I dunno, I’m - I’m not that good.”

“Hey!” Adam says sharply, and his voice almost sounds angry. He softens it slightly as he continues, “Do not say that. God, Kris. That was so beyond amazing, I - it was perfect.“

Kris looks up again and over to Adam, eyes wide. “What?”

“A-ma-zing,” he says, enunciating every syllable clearly and fervently.

Kris’ breathtaking smile is perfectly visible to Adam despite the darkness around them. Adam sends one back, heart pounding.

The intensity of his feelings for Kris is starting to scare Adam, but as he and Kris start up a discussion of their all-time favourite love songs, Adam can’t bring himself to remotely consider changing anything about their growing friendship; It simply means too much to Adam.

---

After practice on Monday afternoon, three weeks into his and Kris’ partnership, Coach Miller calls Adam over as the rest of the guys are trekking back into the school to change and go home. Miller’s standing with two men who are dressed sharply.

“Lambert, these men are representatives from Penn State University,” Miller says.

Adam feels his heart sink. He pastes on a friendly smile, though, and reaches out a hand to shake each of theirs, saying, “Nice to meet you,” as they share their names.

One of the men clears his throat. “We saw you play at your last game, Mr. Lambert, and we’re very impressed. We’ve come to offer you a scholarship to play at Penn State next year.”

The other man picks up after him, “We think you’d be a great starting quarterback, and Penn State is willing to offer you a scholarship for your first year and on, pending good results.”

Adam smiles politely, stomach in knots. “Thank you very much for the offer, gentlemen, but I’m not looking into pursuing football in college.”

The men look extremely taken aback at this information, and out of the corner of his eye Adam can see Coach Miller's own shocked expression. The first man who spoke clears his throat and says, “Very understandable, Mr. Lambert. However, if you change your mind, here’s my number.”

Adam takes the proffered card and smiles again. “Thank you. Have a good day,” he replies, and then he walks back to the locker rooms.

The team’s waiting for him when he gets there. They immediately surround Adam and clap him on the back, asking questions all at once. Adam smiles uncomfortably through their barrage of questions and answers them as best he can.

He doesn’t tell them that he rejected the offer. He doesn't really have a chance to because Tucker shouts, “Dude! Pizza! Right now!”

Adam wants to say no, but they’re not really giving him the option. He gets dressed and lets his teammates manhandle him to a pizza place around the corner from school. They’re loud and excited, and they completely make up for Adam’s lack of enthusiasm; they don’t even notice that Adam’s barely talking or eating his food.

They’re just so excited, and Adam feels incredibly guilty for being the first to get a scholarship, for being the one bestowed that honour without wanting it. When he finally makes his way home about two hours later, Adam is so exhausted he can barely keep his eyes open on the road. When he arrives he goes straight inside, climbs the staircase to his room, and collapses into his bed.

Adam comes to semi-consciousness some time later to find Neil standing over him, shaking him awake. Adam groans and closes his eyes again.

“Hey, come on,” Neil prods, shaking Adam's shoulder again. “The phone’s for you.”

“’m tired, ‘ll call back,” Adam slurs, eyes still firmly shut.

“I think you want to take this one,” Neil says patiently. “It’s Kris.”

It takes several moments for Neil’s words to make it through Adam’s sleep-addled brain, but when they do Adam sits straight up in bed and hoists his legs over the side of it in preparation to stand up. Neil has his eyebrows raised in amusement when Adam looks groggily up at him, but he says nothing about Adam’s behaviour.

“I’m just… really excited about the project,” Adam tries to explain in a feeble sort of voice. He clears his throat and stands up, stretching big.

“Uh huh,” Neil says easily, still smirking and following Adam out into the hallway. “Yeah, I can’t find the cordless; you’ll have to use the phone in Mom’s office.”

Adam stops walking. “Well, you were the last one to use it, so you better find it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you’re keeping dear Kristopher waiting,” Neil preens, batting his eyelashes.

“Fucker,” Adam grumbles as he turns away from Neil and heads into his mom’s office across the hall. He takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart and picks up the receiver that’s resting on the desk. “Hello?”

“Hey, man!” Kris says.

“Kris! Hey!” Adam already feels better than he has all day, simply from hearing Kris’ voice. “Sorry you had to wait so long; I was asleep.”

“Oh, damn, sorry. Did I call too late?”

Adam glances at the clock on his mom’s desk, which reads 8:48. Adam laughs softly, settling himself in the chair at the desk. “Not at all. I was just really tired from practice, and I fell asleep. Anyway, what’s up? Did you find something for the project?”

Kris says, “Uh, yeah. I was thinking… you know, for the presentation? Maybe we could hand out those red ribbons to the class and take donations for research funding?”

Adam swallows thickly. How can Kris possibly be this perfect? “That’s - that’s a really great idea,” he says quietly. “Seriously, that’s genius.”

“Nah, you know, it’s just-”

“Kris,” Adam interrupts. “You need to learn how to take a compliment. You’re not allergic to them; it won’t hurt you to say thanks and accept that you have really great ideas all the time.”

Adam just knows Kris is blushing. Kris mumbles his thanks and goes quiet, and Adam suddenly remembers why he fell asleep so early in the evening, and he’s telling Kris before he can think to stop himself, “So, today I was offered a scholarship to play football at Penn State next year.”

There’s a really long silence on Kris’ end, and then Kris asks, quietly, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Adam sighs.

“Congratulations, man! That’s really awesome!”

Adam feels tears pressing at his closed eyelids. He lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says again, almost a whisper.

“Are you okay?” Kris asks after a moment of silence.

“No,” Adam manages to say around the lump in his throat.

“Do you…?” Kris starts, and he sounds uncertain, “Do you want some company?”

Adam feels the tears win over and work their way down his cheeks. He bites his lip to keep in the sob that’s building in his chest.

“I’m coming over,” Kris says firmly, and then there’s a click and Kris is gone. Adam sits there, crying quietly, until he can finally move again, and then he gets up and goes back to his room to change out of his sleep-rumpled clothes.

Kris is coming over.

---

Adam meets Kris outside on the porch when he arrives. He says, “Can we -?”, and Kris nods immediately. They silently head off toward the brook behind Adam’s house, the moon barely a sliver in the sky. They say nothing to each other until they’re sitting in the same spot as last time. Kris doesn’t ask any questions; eventually, Adam can’t take the quiet anymore, and once he starts talking the whole story comes out of him.

“My dad and I used to play football together all the time when I was a kid. Sometimes Neil would play with us too. When I was thirteen, my dad noticed I’d gotten pretty good at it, and he encouraged me to sign up for football at school.” Kris’ head is turned to face Adam, but Adam can’t see his expression with so little light around them. He knows Kris is listening, though.

“Football was really fun when I played with my dad, so it was fun at school, too - at first. I was a receiver, originally, but the coach made me quarterback after a couple weeks. He called me a natural, and I guess I kind of was, except. I mean, I’d been playing with my dad for years, so it’s not like I didn’t have practice. Anyway, I was pretty good; we won most of the games that year. But I didn’t really get along with my teammates.”

Adam pauses and listens to the crickets for a while, and then he continues, “My dad was so excited for me. He was really encouraging - actually, my whole family was. They always came out to watch my games, and that was really nice, so I didn’t want to let them down by quitting in the middle of the season. I just decided not to try out for the team when I came to our school.”

“But Coach Miller found me on the very first day of school and asked me if I wanted to try for quarterback. He’d heard I was good from someone at my middle school - I don’t know who - and I was really surprised, and flattered, so I told him I’d think about it and let him know.”

Adam chews his lip for a moment. “I told my dad because… well, it was pretty cool,” he says, smiling at the memory. “He was so happy! I didn’t have the heart to tell him I didn’t really want to play. So I said yes; I figured... you know, ‘if I really hate it I’ll just stop’. And then we started winning, like, every game, and my teammates actually liked me, or respected me anyway, and I just felt so much pressure to keep playing. I wasn’t having fun anymore, but I knew if I stopped they’d be upset. Everyone. I didn’t want to let them down. Especially my dad. He was so proud and happy, and I just… I really didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Adam shakes his head and picks up a stick off the ground to draw a blind design in the dirt at his feet, still talking, “And then, last year, my parents told me and Neil they were separating. And I was… Fuck, I was so mad,” he breathes out, throwing the stick into the water just beyond their feet. “My dad moved out, and suddenly he wasn’t there every day, and he wasn’t at every game. So, the only reason I’d started playing football in the first place had basically fucked off and left us. And I know that’s not fair, or even what really happened, but it sure felt like that at the time.”

“And then this year, the coach and everyone on the team and my dad have all been going on and on about scholarships and playing next year, and - fuck, that’s the last thing I want to do.

“You know, I wanted to try out for the musical this year. But I chickened out because I couldn’t stand the thought of what the guys would say about it… about me. And you know what I’ve realized? I have no idea who I am. This huge part of my identity isn’t even… accurate, you know? And the person I actually am? He’s kind of a mystery, even to me! And that’s a big fucking problem!” He exhales deeply and shrugs, letting out a humourless laugh. “I was hoping - no, I was praying, Kris, I was praying I wouldn’t get that scholarship. And now I have, and my teammates know I got one ‘cause they saw the scouts after practice. And Miller knows I turned it down ‘cause he was there, so I gotta tell my parents - my dad - that I’m not doing this next year. And I’m fucking terrified.”

As if his body were trying to prove the intensity of his words, Adam starts to shake. He buries his head in his hands and breathes deeply for several long moment, and then he straightens up and looks steadily at Kris.

Kris moves forward quite suddenly and grabs Adam’s hand, squeezing it tightly with his own, and closes the remaining distance to pull Adam into a tight embrace. Adam trembles into it, clutching Kris desperately. “You can do it,” Kris says intently, right in Adam’s ear. Adam’s heart leaps in his chest, and he squeezes his eyes shut. Kris feels and smells so good.

Adam tries to ignore the guilt eating away at him, the voice in his head telling him he’s warping a friendly, encouraging moment into more than it is. He tries to ignore that thought because, in this moment, Adam feels more accepted and understood than he has in years. This admission - what he’s just confided in Kris - feels more important and personal than his orientation and sexual confusion ever did. And he’s telling Kris, of all people, someone he barely knew three weeks ago.

It really feels to Adam like they’ve known each other for ages. And he knows that Kris is absolutely right; he can do it. And he will, somehow.

---

When Adam gets to school on Monday, just about everyone seems to know he’s been offered a scholarship, and just about everyone seems to believe he accepted it. Classmates and teachers alike congratulate him all morning, and when Adam meets Dani at her locker at lunch break he is so wired he feels like running away altogether and just taking off to L.A. immediately.

“Hey hon,” Dani calls in greeting. She grabs her lunch, shuts her locker, and then stops when she really looks at Adam. “Hey,” she says, much more softly this time, “what’s wrong?”

Adam simply shakes his head in response, already turning around to walk down the hall toward the cafeteria, and Dani trails after him a few moments later. When they reach the lunch room, they find Kris sitting at their table. He looks up at Adam and offers him an empathetic smile as they sit down.

They’re pretty quiet at first, and then Dani says, with a touch of hurt in her voice, “I don’t understand why you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Adam inhales sharply. “I didn’t accept the scholarship."

Dani covers her mouth with her hands, staring at Adam. “Why?” she asks gently.

“I just don’t want to play anymore. And now everyone’s congratulating me for something I don’t even want, and I just-” Adam stops speaking abruptly, too upset to continue.

Dani reaches across the table and lays her hand on his. “I’m sorry, Adam.” Adam shrugs and pulls his hand away, starting in on his lunch.

The rest of their lunch is stilted and awkward, and Adam knows it’s his doing.

---

Just before practice, Miller pulls Adam aside from the rest of the team.

“Adam,” he starts, and that’s significant because he’s always, always used Adam’s last name. “I thought about this all weekend, and I have to make sure you really know what you’re doing here. Penn State is a great, an amazing opportunity. It would be an absolute shame to let your talent go to waste.”

Adam meets his Miller's gaze. “Coach, I appreciate your concern. But I didn’t make this decision on a whim, I just don’t want to play football next year.”

Miller flat-out asks, “Why not?”

Adam reins in his automatic anger toward his coach for prying like this, and says, “Sir, it is far too complicated to explain in a few minutes. You don’t need to worry about me.” And with these words, Adam pointedly turns away and jogs back over to his waiting team members to start their drills.

Adam’s exiting the school after practice when he sees Shelly standing in the parking lot. Shelly waves hello and Adam waves back, veering toward her. “Hey!” he says.

“Hi!” she calls. “How was practice?”

“Fine,” Adam replies. “Why are you here so late?”

“Tutoring,” she answers, making a face.

“Ahhh. And you’re waiting for someone?”

“Well,” Shelly says, and she looks down like she’s embarrassed, “my brother said he’d pick me up at 5 o’clock, so I don’t think he’s coming.”

Adam glances at his watch, which reads 5:26, and grimaces. “Yeeeeah, he’s pretty late. Do you need a lift home?”

“Oh, no,” Shelly says in a rush, “that’s fine - thank you, but it’s out of your way, I’ll just-”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Adam says easily. “I barely get any mileage out of this thing,” he adds, gesturing to his beat-up station wagon. “Come on.”

Shelly looks torn, but eventually she beams gratefully. “Oh... Well, thanks, Adam!”

“Not a problem,” he assures her. He gets in the driver’s side and stretches toward the passenger door to pull up the lock on her side and starts the car when Shelly’s seated and buckled up. “So where am I going?” he asks her. She gives him her address, and he pulls out of the parking lot onto the road.

“So, what subject are you tutoring for? Or,” Adam realizes belatedly, “what subject are you being tutored in?”

Shelly smiles. “I’m being tutored in math,” she admits. “Can’t get trig straight no matter what I do.”

Adam winces in sympathy. “Ah yes, trig. The bane of my existence.”

Shelly laughs. After a few seconds of quiet she says, “Oh! Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re already sick of hearing it, but congratulations on the scholarship!”

Adam’s stomach clenches yet again. “Thanks,” he says, flashing Shelly a very fake smile.

“Are you going to take it?” she asks perceptively. Adam’s at a red light; he turns and finds her watching him carefully. Adam feels strangely pleased that Shelly’s paid enough attention to even ask that question. If he were into girls…

Adam sighs and shakes his head. “No. It’s been a really long, really weird day.”

“I bet,” Shelly says kindly. “So what do you want to do instead?”

Adam signals a right turn and takes it. “I want to perform in L.A. and sing in musicals. Stuff like that.”

“That sounds awesome!” she cries in enthusiasm. “You should totally do that, Adam!” Adam can’t help but smile at Shelly’s excitement. A few minutes later, Adam pulls up in front of Shelly’s house.

“Thanks so much for the lift, Adam,” she says.

“Don’t mention it,” Adam replies happily. She waves and gets out, shutting the door behind her and starting up her front path. Adam waits until she’s inside to pull back onto road and start for home.

He feels lighter.

---

Adam’s sprawled out on his stomach on his bed, Kris lying a few feet away, the following evening. They’ve nearly completed their essay and are discussing the presentation they’ll have to give next week. Adam’s out of ideas, though, so he’s mostly staring out the window at the tree in his backyard, which is blowing lightly in the breeze.

He’s thinking about L.A. when it hits him.

“Hey,” Adam says, “I just realized… I have no idea what you’re doing next year.”

Kris looks up from his notes in surprise. Adam feels a sting of guilt; he’s been talking on and on about himself for weeks, and he’s barely asked Kris about his life or plans or dreams.

Kris bites his lip in a way that Adam has come to recognize as a sign of uncertainty and deep thought. “Well,” Kris says slowly, “I've applied to some business schools here. State and Tech. I should be okay to get in; my grades are pretty good, and my GPA’s 3.5, so…”

Adam nibbles on the end of the pen he’s been writing with, watching Kris closely. Something about Kris’ body language is ringing alarms for Adam. He drops the pen on his notebook and props his head up on his left hand, elbow snug in the mattress. “Is that what you want to do?” he asks.

Kris looks away and half-shrugs. “Not really, but... if I do that now I can save up and do what I want later.”

“Which is…?”

Kris sits up and starts fiddling with the hem of his shirt, leaning back against the wall Adam’s bed is pressed against. “I want to make music; write some songs; release an album.”

Adam beams in response, excited. “You do?” he exclaims. Kris just nods, gaze steady. Adam sits up and joins Kris against the wall, smiling encouragingly. “So, why go to business school, then?”

Kris quirks his mouth in a smile. “‘Cause my parents think it’s a good idea.”

Adam can’t help but grin. “Parents,” he cracks; Kris laughs. “So, you’re just gonna stick around here until you graduate from college?”

Kris shrugs. “That’s the plan.” He doesn’t look very happy about it. Adam pats Kris’ knee comfortingly, and Kris scrunches his face adorably. Adam feels the overwhelming urge to kiss Kris, but instead he just slides off the bed and asks, “Whataya wanna listen to?”

---

Adam spends most of the following day in a moping funk and doesn’t immediately realize why. He discovers the cause of his bad mood on the drive home from school. Adam can’t help but notice that he tends to realize important things about himself while driving.

But discovering the source of his bad mood doesn’t make the reality of his situation any easier to handle. He’s upset because it’s suddenly become clear to Adam that his friendship with Kris is nearly over. They’re almost done with their project, and after that there are only a few months left of school before they graduate. The notion is utterly heartbreaking to Adam, and so he spends the evening sitting in front of the television, snacking on Chex Mix and drinking canned soda, even though he knows it’ll fuck up his stringent diet. If anything, that’s another motivator to eat and drink the crap, out of spite.

Neil enters the room just as Gossip Girl is starting, and Adam debates changing the channel but decides Neil can go fuck himself if he has a problem. But Neil doesn’t say anything about the television choice; he just sits down next to Adam and snags a handful of chips.

He does keep up a running commentary on how stupid all the characters are, which Adam would normally find incredibly annoying, but it actually makes Adam smile a bit. It helps to laugh at fictional characters whose problems seem a lot worse than Adam’s.

During a commercial break, Neil asks, “So, what’s up?”

Adam says, evasively, “Not much. You?”

“Same. So, why you watching tv all of a sudden? I haven’t seen you do that since you and Kris started hanging out together.”

Adam shrugs, stung by the mention of Kris. He shoves some chips into his mouth, and then the show saves him by coming back from commercial. When the episode ends about fifteen minutes later, Neil reaches across Adam to grab the remote on the arm of the couch and mutes the television. “Okay. Now what’s up for real?” he asks.

Adam glares over at Neil. “Mind your own fucking business. I just wanna watch tv, all right? Give that back,” he snaps, thrusting his hand out for the remote.

“You can have it back when you stop moping.”

“Fuck you, I can mope if I want.”

“Why’re you moping?”

“What fucking part of ‘it’s not your fucking business’ do you not understand?” Adam shouts.

“Hey!” Leila calls from somewhere in the house; her office, probably, “Quit it, you two!”

Adam clips Neil hard on the back of the head and snatches the remote away, turning the volume back on and changing the channel to CSI:Miami.

“You’re gonna fucking watch this piece of shit?” Neil demands as he shoves Adam roughly.

“Yes I fucking am, now go away!” he shouts back, pushing Neil off the couch.

Neil gets to his feet, grabs another handful of chips and leaves the room, flipping Adam off as a parting gift. Adam sighs and stares forlornly at the television, at David Caruso trying to act, and kind of wishes he’d told Neil what’s wrong. He changes the channel to a documentary on hibernating bears, finishes the chips and soda, and heads morosely up to bed.

---

The next day Adam is in a really terrible mood. Dani doesn’t ask about it on the drive to school, as if she knows he’s not willing to talk about it. When Adam gets to school he doesn’t stop by Kris’ locker like he usually does, and at lunch, he eats in his car, avoiding any and all company. He doesn’t like the idea of exposing his rotten mood to anyone.

He doesn’t play so well at practice, and Miller doesn’t say anything but he’s clearly unhappy with Adam’s performance. He’s been obviously unhappy with Adam in general, the cause of which is very transparent to Adam.

In the locker room after practice, Adam dresses in a surly manner. Just as he’s putting his stuff in his duffel bag, he overhears Tucker say to Hawkins, “Lil? I fucked her last month.”

Adam clenches his jaw and zips his bag shut with jerky movements, and then Hawkins barks out a nasty laugh and says, “She’s a slut, man, I fucked her last year!”, and something within Adam snaps.

“D’you guys think maybe you could keep that bullshit to yourselves?”

There’s a deafening silence in the room as Tucker and Hawkins turn to Adam, mouths agape. The rest of the team pause in their actions to stare at Adam as well, and they’re obviously watching out of the corners of their eyes and listening as conspicuously as possible as they hastily begin changing back into their street clothes.

“I’m just saying what everyone knows,” Hawkins says defensively, widening his stance, preparing for a fight.

“Oh, really?” Adam asks breezily. “What’s that make you, then? An asshole?”

“Dude,” Tucker says warningly as Hawkins advances, an ugly look on his face. At that moment, some of the guys from the baseball team come into the locker room, and they stop when they see Adam and Hawkins’ showdown, joining the rest of Adam’s teammates as their gripped audience.

“You’re the asshole, Lambert,” Hawkins snaps back.

“Nice retort,” Adam snorts. “Your witty repertoire is astounding.”

“Hey, fuck you!” Hawkins spits. “What’s your damn problem? Just because you’re a pussy bitch doesn’t mean we all are.”

Adam pays zero attention to the insult. “My problem,” he replies calmly, “is you calling Lil a slut. It’s disrespectful, and I’d rather you keep that bullshit to yourself so I don’t have to listen to it.”

Hawkins is right up in Adam’s face now. “I don’t give a fuck what you think, Lambert! I’ll call her a slut if I want to!”

“Yeah?” Adam says in a dangerous voice, pulling himself to his full height, nearly a head taller than Hawkins. “Well you better fucking watch it, then, ‘cause if I hear it again I’ll punch your fucking face. Got it?” Hawkins glares up at Adam, and Adam keeps his eyebrow quirked up in warning, expression dead serious. “Whatever, fuck you, fag,” Hawkins snarls as he turns away.

Adam only needs to take one stride before he’s got Hawkins by the arm and is wrenching him back around to face him. “That’s another word I don’t want to hear out of your fucking mouth,” he growls, and then his fist is connecting with Hawkins’ face, right at his left eye. Hawkins stumbles into Tucker, who’s watching Adam with a look of enormous shock on his face. Adam grabs his duffel bag, throws it over his shoulder and marches out of the locker room with an air of seeming calm, ignoring the ten or so guys standing around gaping after him.

Once he’s sitting in his car, Adam cradles his throbbing fist in his other hand, breathing harshly. Red-hot anger is coursing through his veins, and his heartbeat is pounding in his ears. He’s never hit anyone in his life besides his brother, but that doesn’t count; he doesn’t hit Neil hard. This was different. This was a conscious attempt to hurt someone else, and Adam can’t even bring himself to regret it. He’s still shaking with anger over Hawkins’ words. He starts the car and drives straight home, the volume on the radio cranked all the way to the max, fists clenching convulsively around the steering wheel.

When he arrives home, he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. He jumps out of the car, still full of pumping adrenaline. He goes inside and forgets to take his shoes off, checks the kitchen, and eventually finds his mom in her office. He knocks gently on the door. She swivels around in her chair and smiles. “Hey baby!”

“Hey,” Adam heaves in tired reply.

Leila senses his mood immediately. “What’s wrong?”

Adam bites his lip, which is trembling slightly, and steps further into the room. “I… punched someone today.”

Her head snaps back in utter surprise. “What? Why!?”

Adam’s shaking from the mere memory. “This guy on the team, Hawkins… he…” Adam tries to say the rest, but he’s too fired-up, too upset and angry and scared and just…

“Okay, come on,” Leila says, getting up. “Let’s go to my room.”

She comes over, sliding an arm around his waist, and leads him through the door from her office to her bedroom. She sits him down on the bed, seats herself beside him, and cradles his swollen hand in both of hers. “What happened?”

Adam sighs. “Hawkins called this girl in our class a slut, in the locker room after practice. And I was already in a fucking shitty mood, so I told him to shut up, and he… well, he didn’t take that so well.” Leila smiles for a moment, and then she schools her expression and nods for him to continue. “Then he called me a fag. And I don’t think it was because… you know, that he thinks I really am one, but it still really fucking hit a nerve. And I just punched him. Right in the face,” he breathes.

Leila’s staring up at Adam, and she tears up and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, I love you, Adam. So, so much,” she whispers into his throat. She pulls back slightly and looks up at him, saying, “I know I should be upset, but I’m… I’m just not. I’m proud of you for standing up to him like that. And while I do not condone the violence, I’m just so amazed by the person you've become, Adam. You’re all grown up.”

Adam laughs shakily. “Yeah,” he says. And in this moment, he knows it’s the right time to tell her: “I’m not playing football next year, Mom. Or ever again, really.”

Leila smiles. “I know, sweetie. Good for you.”

“I want to sing,” he mutters.

She kisses his cheek. “Excellent. I love when you sing,” she says thickly, tears sliding down her cheeks. Adam exhales on a laugh, almost a sob, and hugs her tight.

“I love you, Mom.”

She hugs him a little tighter and gives him a watery smile in return.

---

About an hour later, once Adam’s wrapped up his hand and taken refuge in his bedroom with some Bowie as comfort, the phone rings. Adam just has a feeling about it, so he goes into his mom’s office to answer it; she’s downstairs preparing supper. He picks up the phone with a tentative, “Hello?”

It’s Kris. “Dude,” is all he says.

Adam grins. He can’t help it. “Dude,” he echoes with warmth.

“So, listen, my friend Cale’s on the baseball team. I just got off the phone with him.”

“Ah."

“Yeah, ‘ah’. You,” Kris states firmly, “are my hero.”

Adam feels his stomach clench for the umpteenth time, a common side-effect of Kris’ complete awesomeness, and laughs breathlessly. “Yeah, right. I punched someone. That’s hardly hero-worthy material.”

“No, you defended someone’s honour. You’re - you’re spectacular, Adam.” He says it with so much warmth and fervour that Adam’s heart starts thumping inside his chest in response, alive and well.

“I’m a little worried,” Adam admits. “I could be expelled.”

“Nope,” Kris counters. “Apparently, after you left, Hawkins said he was gonna go talk to your coach, but your entire team came to your defense and told him if he said anything, he’d get a lot worse than a black eye.”

“Wow,” Adam says after a moment, in wonderment. “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm,” Kris hums. “Come on. Pretty sure they can’t do without their star quarterback.”

A lump rises in Adam’s throat, and he tries to clear it without success. “Oh,” he replies numbly. “Oh,” he says again.

“Man, I wish I’d been there,” Kris says wistfully.

Adam lets out a stream of shocked, happy laughter. “So, what was your day like?” he asks brightly after he’s all laughed out.

“Really?” Kris chuckles. “You’re gonna ask about my day? Well, I didn’t punch anyone, that’s for sure. Anything else I did today will pretty much pale in comparison to yours. Pretty tame, you know? I mean, I did go to English class; that was pretty exciting. We talked about The Great Gatsby, which is maybe not as exciting as punching someone in the face, but I guess it was pretty cool,” Kris jokes dryly. Adam laughs expansively in reply, giggles, really, and qhen he quiets down he just listens to Kris talk about his day. They eventually start up a discussion on language and whether violence is ever okay, and Kris talks about his friends -- friends Adam’s heard very little about. Adam mentions that he’s having supper with his dad tomorrow night, which Kris is very encouraging about.

When Adam gets off the phone with Kris about an hour later, he’s noticed something that feels significant. Kris didn’t stutter once in their entire conversation. He sounded comfortable and happy and confident and very much sure of himself, not shy and nervous and insecure like he normally does. He sounded like he was finally convinced that Adam’s someone to respect; someone to really talk to; someone to trust.

Adam’s beyond grateful for the breakthrough in their… friendship, but he’s also wary. There’s no getting away from it; Adam knows he’s in love with Kris. It actually hurts a little to think about, and Adam knows it’s going to be really hard to say goodbye in a few months, and to keep up the pretence, until then, that he only sees Kris is a friend.

But still, Adam can’t help feeling much better as he heads downstairs for dinner, head held high.

---

He picks Dani up as usual the following morning, but it’s different in that she yanks Adam’s door open and says, “Get out,” very firmly.

Adam blinks up at her from his seated position for several moments, and then he sighs and steps out of his car. When he’s shut the door behind him, Dani throws her arms around him and says into his throat, “I love you.”

Adam hugs her back firmly, and asks, “How can you possibly know already? We haven’t even gotten to school yet.”

She pulls out of the hug and laughs, shaking her head. “Are you kidding me? I’m your best friend. Sarah’s dating Jay, so she called me as soon as she talked to him. And Lil called, of course. And Brenda, you know, from Western Civ? But I got broken versions of the story, so I want to hear it from you.”

So Adam relays the story to her while he drives, which she’s wonderfully receptive and hilariously responsive to. Her anger on his behalf, especially in regards to Hawkins calling him a fag, is touching and kind of funny, but he has to make her promise not to approach Hawkins herself. They talk until they reach the school, and that’s when things get interesting.

Most people don’t say anything. But Adam can tell that there are a lot more people watching him a lot more closely than is the general norm. Some people do approach him, a surprising number of girls who think Adam’s the sweetest thing ever, who can’t believe Adam punched anyone. Shelly tackle-hugs him; Kris’ friend Cale introduces himself and gives Adam props; Jay slaps Adam on the back during lunch and says, “Thanks for saying something, man. Those guys…” and trails off tellingly; and Lil gives Adam her heartfelt thanks while they’re waiting for the teacher just before Spanish.

It’s all a bit strange in that Adam is suddenly a part of the rumour mill of their school (and not about football, for once), and it makes him feel uncomfortable even if it’s also kind of cool.

Adam doesn’t run into Hawkins or Tucker until practice, which is, to put it mildly, tense. Miller clearly notices Hawkins’ black eye (which looks terrible - a massive comfort to Adam), but says nothing about it. Hawkins, who has been playing badly for most of the week, fumbles Adam’s passes almost every time, and Miller rips into him and the rest of the team at the end of practice.

“I don’t know what’s got into some of you,” he growls, “and I don’t care. Whatever it is? Get over it. There are going to be scouts at the game on Saturday, and if we lose then you can kiss those scholarships goodbye; you’ll be hard pressed to find a place at any school next year. So, if you want to throw away years of hard work, you go right ahead. But if you want to win, if you want to play football next year, you better bring it on Saturday.”

Adam stares firmly over Miller’s shoulder during the lecture. He feels like some of Miller’s rant is directed at him, even though he’s been playing as well as he normally does, and Miller sends them off. The team heads into the locker rooms to change, its members quiet and sullen.

Adam debates leaving without bothering to change in the locker room, but figures that’ll look cowardly, so he files into the room with the rest of his team. As soon as they’re inside, Hawkins thumps Adam on the shoulder.

“So, what, now you got your fucking scholarship, you want to ruin my chances?” he snarls.

Adam shakes his head in exasperation. “Man, are you serious? You think I’m fumbling my passes to you on purpose?”

“Well why else do I keep missing them?” Hawkins demands.

“Uh, maybe ‘cause you’re a mediocre receiver?” Adam offers flippantly. “You’ve been playing bad all week. I’m throwing the passes like I always do.” Hawkins looks livid, but Adam isn’t done yet, “You’re obviously still pissed about me punching you, and I get that, but I don’t know why you think I care enough about you to purposely mess up your game. I mean, shit, Tucker caught the passes I threw to him.” Hawkins advances again, fists clenched at his sides. Adam sighs. “Come on, you really want to do this again? I can give you another black eye to match the first, whatever, but don’t blame me for your shitty playing.”

Hawkins seems to realize at this point that he’s not getting anywhere with this confrontation, and so he turns away and punches a nearby locker. Adam rolls his eyes and grabs his stuff.

“And I didn’t take the damn scholarship,” Adam adds just before he leaves.

Adam has never before felt so comfortable in his own skin, so aware of his own strength. He heads out to meet his dad for supper, feeling more himself than he has in years.

Adam has already decided to be completely up-front with his dad, and so when Eber asks, “How’s everything?”, it’s the perfect opportunity for Adam to do so.

“You know,” Adam says, “you can’t just drop in once a month and ask a question like that; I don’t even know where to begin.”

Eber winces heavily. “I’m sorry. I wish I could be around more often.”

“Well, why can’t you?” Adam asks frankly.

Eber rests his elbows on the table and leans forward. “Because your mom and I decided, together, that we needed -- we both needed a change, and I know that hasn’t been easy on you and Neil. We still care about each other, and we love you both, but it wasn’t enough. We needed… distance. And not just emotional distance, but physical distance, too.”

These words are not easy for Adam to hear, but he at least appreciates his dad’s honesty. “Thanks for being honest,” he says quietly. “It’s just… it’s just hard sometimes to not be mad at you. And I know that’s not fair; it’s not your fault. But it just feels like you’re missing the really important parts of my life.”

“I know,” Eber says gravely. “I’m so sorry.”

Adam sighs. “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”

Eber frowns. “Yeah, I do. But I really want to hear what’s going on in your life. Why don’t you start by telling me the biggest thing on your mind?”

Adam’s thoughts flicker to Kris, who he is so not telling his dad about. He takes a deep breath and says, “I got offered a scholarship.”

Eber stares at Adam for a full three seconds, and then he grins widely. “Adam!” he exclaims. “Good job! Where’s the offer from?”

“Penn State,” Adam answers flatly. “Starting quarterback, scholarship for a year with a performance clause.”

“Oh fuck yeah!” Eber enthuses, beaming. “I’m SO proud of you!”

“I already turned it down,” Adam says, firmly and without preamble.

Eber’s expression falls, almost comically, and he leans back in his chair, mouth open in surprise. “You what?”

“I already turned it down,” Adam repeats patiently.

“But…” Eber looks so dismayed that Adam has to look away. “But why? This is amazing, Adam! If you worked at it, you might even be able to play for the NFL one day if you wanted to.”

“Which I don’t,” Adam says simply. “I’ve been trying to tell you this for months. Years, actually.”

“I don’t understand,” Eber says faintly, shaking his head. “I thought you liked football.”

“I did for a while,” Adam acknowledges, “but I stopped enjoying it when I was in middle school.”

“But… but I remember when you came home and told me Miller had asked you try out! You were excited!”

“Yeah, I was. But you were even more excited. And I didn’t want to let you down.”

Eber sighs heavily. “Adam…”

“No,” Adam says firmly. “I’m just saying that for the last three years my heart hasn’t been in it. I’m not a football player. I’m just not, and I wish you could be proud of me anyway.”

“Oh Adam, I am. I always will be.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m gay,” Adam states, matter-of-fact. “Still proud?”

Eber closes his eyes for several moments, and when he opens them he looks straight at Adam and says, fiercely, unwaveringly, “More than you can possibly imagine.”

Adam bites his lip, a well of emotion rising up in him. He clears his throat and looks away, uncomfortable.

“So, if you’re not gonna play football, what are you going to do?” Eber asks after a bout of significant silence.

Adam takes in a rallying breath and says, “I want to sing. Professionally.”

Silence greets Adam’s words. Eventually his dad asks, “Adam, do you have any idea how much work that’ll be? And how do you expect to make a living off of that? You’re going to need somewhere to live; you’ll need to pay your bills; you’ll need to eat. How are you going to do all that? Do you have an actual plan?”

“Yes. I’m going to move to L.A. during the summer and start auditioning for musicals, and I can sing at open mic nights until I get a steady job. I know it’ll be hard work, but I’m a good singer. You know I am.”

“You are good. You’re really good,” Eber concedes. “But couldn’t you go to university and study music? For a few years, at least?”

“I don’t want to be in a classroom, Dad,” Adam says. “I want to be out there, really experiencing it. And I really just need you to accept that this is what I want to do. I’m an adult now; I can make my own decisions.”

“I know you can. You’re right.” At that moment, the waitress brings them their food, and Eber sits up a little straighter. “But you can’t be asking me for rent money every month, or-”

“I know,” says Adam. “I won’t be. If I have to take a day job as… fuck, as a waiter or whatever, then that’s what I’ll do. And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll deal with it then. I just want to get out there in the world and work out who I am exactly, and what I want.”

Eber surveys Adam over their dinner plates, expression thoughtful. “Okay.”

Adam heaves an enormously relieved sigh. “Thank you,” he says softly.

Eber smiles. “Thank you for telling me all of this. I realize it wasn’t easy, but it means a lot.”

Adam smiles back and reaches for one of the hotdogs on his plate. Eber waits until he’s taken a sizeable bite to ask, “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

Adam splutters and coughs, and Eber thumps Adam on the back until he can breathe clearly again. “You are an evil, evil man,” Adam grumbles, eyes narrowed. Eber laughs, with feeling, and Adam can’t stop himself from joining in.

Continue to Part 3

rating: nc-17, fanfic, bigbang, kradam, adam/kris

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