Encore (Act 2)
Title: Encore
Author: shady_fetish
Artist: angelicrealism -- thanks for fabulous banners! :)
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Kradam, Katy
Warnings strong language, implied sexual content, possible character death
Summary: Kris finds himself in the hospital after ending up in a serious car accident. What follows is a trip down memory lane as he recalls the last week or so of his life. What will Kris discover once he remembers everything?
Part 1
August 16, 2010, 1 P.M.
This lunch date with Katy is not going anything like Kris pictured it. Normally she likes this place okay, or at least that is what she said the last time they came here. He doesn't know if he should believe her anymore though. Lately she's been saying a lot of things that seem to have no follow-up, or any truth to them.
It's like she's a completely different person.
"You seem distant today," Katy points out, jabbing at the greens on her plate. Kris almost believes for a second that she is legitimately concerned until she answers a phone call on her cell. She doesn't even excuse herself as she leaves the table.
Kris finds himself alone once more. He really should be used to this by now. Katy had been able to put up a good front of being a good wife. She used to be able to deal with Kris's career, used to flash a smile at the cameras every time one was pointed at her. She used to show concern for Kris's well-being--hell, she still seems to once in awhile if she's feeling nice enough.
As Kris is discovering though, Katy is a really terrible actress.
Lately, she seems so plain looking, so tired looking. She always spends time staring out the window whenever she is in the apartment. Kris leaves her in the morning when she is usually still in bed, and if he actually bothers coming back that night, she magically is back in her seat at the window, either procrastinating away on her laptop or simply gazing. Kris can't even begin to guess what she is thinking about.
He still can't, even as she sits back down to lunch now.
"So, what have you been up to today?" Kris asks, attempting to start a real conversation.
"Shopping," she answers rather crossly, her cell ringing again. She picks up the phone, not bothering to leave the table this time as she starts chatting with one of her friends.
Kris sighs quietly, shoving his plate away. This is the fifth or sixth time during this meal she has answered her phone and it's getting on his nerves. He almost wonders if he should just walk up and leave her here to pay the bill, but then again, his mother would disapprove of that. It just wouldn't be polite, no matter how clingy Katy was to her phone.
Still though, this was far from what Kris had in mind when he asked Katy out to lunch. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he could actually talk to her once. They haven't had time to really talk lately with his work at the studio. He's been so absorbed in himself lately, and part of him regrets it.
Part of him.
He takes a swig of his water, holding back any annoyance he is carrying inside.
If he smoked, he would certainly need a cigarette right now.
August 16, 2010, 11:30 AM.
Kris doesn't recall being this frustrated for the longest time. Usually he can tolerate the plans management makes for him as far as marketing himself. He was a musician after all, not a salesman. It's one thing to try to sell shoes back in Arkansas, but it's another thing to try and sell your soul out in Los Angeles. There were some truly impossible things that Kris knew he was capable of, but that wasn't one of them, so usually, he left things up to management. He was making enough money to meet the monthly payments for rent, so at first it didn't matter.
Now, though, now things were getting out of hand.
Family-friendly. Christian-oriented crowd. Happily married man.
These were some of the things that management wanted to push. Whatever happened to, say, promoting Kris as a legitimate artist? What happened to trying to give Kris a broader appeal, regardless of religion or cultural background? And most importantly, why force Kris into a box that he wasn't happy with? He wasn't stupid enough to give the full details of how he was feeling that his marriage was off, but he did imply that he wasn't completely happy with his given situation.
"There aren't enough happily married men like you," they had told him.
"But what if 'happily' is a lie?" Kris asked them.
The woman with a grey streak in her hair shot him the nastiest glare possible before he faked a laugh.
"Los Angeles is full of actors, Kris. Whether you're a good one or a bad one is the deciding factor."
Kris isn't supposed to be an actor. Why would he want to act away what he was feeling? It had already screwed things up with Adam, and it's starting to screw things up with Katy. Sometimes he even wonders if this is his life, or if this is the life that management had set up for him. He wonders if he's a genuine person, or if this is just a mask, a facade, that management drapes over him. Kris is just money after all. What do they care if he's happy?
He's thought about dropping the label a couple of times in the past, but now he is seriously considering it. He just wants to make music. He wants to be happy. When he signed up for Idol, he didn't anticipate actually winning it, getting the fame that comes along with the title. He didn't imagine that the love of his life would become one of the elements that made him the most miserable. And he sure as hell never thought, that he would fall in love with another man.
"If I...if I said I didn't want to act--" Kris had started.
"Not yet, Kris. You're not established enough. You just have to hold out for awhile longer. Can you imagine the headlines if you ended up divorcing Katy just a couple of years after you married her?" they shot back.
"What if I..."
Kris shut his mouth then.
He couldn't finish his sentence:
What if I'm gay?
It's not that he hadn't thought of guys like that before going on the show. When he and Katy had split for awhile back in college, he had considered the idea of being with another guy. He never did anything about it--conflicted too much with his religion, even if his family would have been okay with it--but he'd considered it nonetheless. Some of the football players on the college team were pretty cute. He remembered shamelessly flirting with an adorable Hispanic player right after he had helped the quarterback score the championship game. Flirting with a guy, and actually falling for one, however, are two different things as Kris has discovered.
Kris has always wondered what Adam is exactly in his life. He does play the role of friend, and very well at that. If Kris is stressed out, or happy, or sad, or sleepy, Adam is usually the first person to hear about it. If it's a crowd of the guys from Idol, Adam is the first one Kris hugs. Even when they are far apart, they constantly text each other, insistent on being a fixture in the life of one another.
At first, Kris was taking it all in as a close friendship, but as of late, he begins to wonder what if things were never meant to be friendship at all. He begins to wonder what would happen if he was alone in the world again, because then...
Adam could be his, but not as long as things have to stay like this.
Kris is seething as he punches the horn on the steering wheel. People passing by the parking lot stare at him, judging him as they go their way, but he doesn't care right now. He can't just cheat on Katy, but he can't let go neither. For now, he has to put on a poker face for everyone and grin it out until he either outgrows it.
"If you were.." the woman had started, clearing getting what Kris was saying. She refused to say the word though. "...different, then you'd need to up your acting skills. Nobody would buy your music if you revealed it this soon in your career."
A stab in the heart, indifference.
Or denial.
Kris can't decide.
"I..."
"I believe our discussion is over, Mr. Allen," she had said, cutting him off and gathering her things. "If you don't mind, I have other clients to see."
And that's all Kris is--a client. He he's not a face or a name, or an artist, or a voice. He isn't a man who is gay, who is struggling with feelings that may or may be mean a thing. He's just another puppet for management to control until they throw him away for a new one.
"Happily married Christian man."
Kris isn't so sure that he wants to be a happily married man anymore.
August 15, 2010, 5:10 PM.
Adam notices two punks in the parking lot are going at it. He can see the anger flashing in both of their eyes as they exchange words. He can't exactly hear what they are talking about from where he is, but the man on the left is particularly passionate in his bitching. He jabs a finger at the other man accusingly, his eyebrows contorting as he screams. The man on the right is too calm, too quiet.
The man on the right takes off his sunglasses, shaking his head disappointedly. Adam still can't recognize him completely, because he still has a beanie concealing his identity from this distance. The man on the left tries to back away, smug but clearly done with this conversation. However, the man on the right isn't so easily finished.
The man on the right grabs the other's shoulder, his body language suddenly stiffening, reeling. Adam can't help but feel that he should step in at this point, but he's frozen. He can't bring himself to move when both of the men grow more aggressive, their voices becoming louder and louder. The man on the right, despite his small stature, easily holds his own as the man on the left starts shoving him harder, landing punches.
The fight is almost like a flower, slowly blooming. It's all a beautiful escape for Adam, it's everything that he feels right now that he's had a chance to rationalize. The two men have given up using words, and have resorted to brute force. Jackets are being torn off, bruises are being painted on their skin. The man on the left rips off the beanie hat on the man on the right, throwing it to the ground. With the hat off, Adam can see the man's disheveled hair, the way the light hits his emaciated face.
Reality is shattered when security exits from the building, promptly breaking up the fight. Adam watches for a couple of moments as the two men and the guards chat with one another, tensions still high even as they all discover him watching them. Adam decides it's time for him to make his exit from this scene, walking their way to the building.
It would just be another day at work, but then Adam realizes that he recognizes the man on the right now, and it seems he recognizes him too. He stops, his breath hitching as everything barely begins to register.
"Kris..." he trails off.
Kris just stares back, unblinking as Adam walks into the building, leaving him without another word. There's a lot that Adam doesn't know about what he just saw. As he checks in with his boss that day, he mentally pushes the fight aside as Kris just showing his true colors. He just assumes that douche is just picking up a fight because he can, that it's okay to feel sorry for the other man for being in Kris Allen's way.
What Adam doesn't know, is that he's completely wrong. He doesn't know the full story.
He doesn't see the smirk that the other man gives Kris as he leaves, the lewd gestures he makes, the derogatory insults he mouths at him. Kris almost launches himself at the other man again when he says the unrepeatable, but then he remembers how disappointed Adam looked when he passed by, and he bottles everything up. Kris might have been defending Adam, but he can't bring himself to lose it like that again.
August 15, 2010. 7:28 AM.
The sun starts its daily routine, peeking through the blinds and into Kris's apartment. His vision is slightly foggy as he struggles to make out management's identification on his garishly lit cell phone. He knows that he should have tried to sleep more last night, but his attempt to just made him more awake. Now it's too late--he has a meeting to get ready for whether he likes it or not.
He hasn't been out of the house in a week or so--he's lost count of the days. He hasn't shaved, brushed his hair and teeth, nor has he showered. He's ignored all sorts of social and work related commitments. Kris has barely even eaten anything, especially in the last three days, and his lips are cracking because he's been skipping on water.
He numbly sits up on the couch and watches the ceiling fan spin above him in a continuous cycle, the blades whistling as they whip through their own air. He almost feels like he should go and turn the switch off, but he can't even bring himself to do that at the moment. He's too hot, too sweaty, as he quietly stomps into his bedroom to gather his clothes.
He grabs his cell phone sitting on the coffee table, only to leave it unlit and useless on his dresser. Kris has used it to try and call Adam since last week, but the other man refuses to pick up no matter how many messages he leaves on his voicemail. Kris can't say he blames him in the least. If Adam is still half as angry at Kris as he is at himself, then he has no right reason to blame him, no decent motivation.
Kris can't believe he let himself give in like that, when he still had a ring on his finger nonetheless. It wasn't fair to Adam, it wasn't fair to Katy, and it sure as hell wasn't fair to himself. Kris could easily say that Adam twisted his words, but that would be a complete lie. He hasn't needed any assistance twisting his words into another story altogether, and now he doesn't care how selfish he sounds when he thinks that he only wants to help himself out. He just wants to hide the hurt away for a little while longer so that he can pretend it never happened.
"Are you leaving, Kris?" Katy asks sleepily.
"Yeah..." he whispers. "I have a meeting."
Kris, clumsy as he can be this early in the morning, has failed in getting ready quietly. He's just barely zipping up his jeans and putting his cell phone in his pocket as he gazes at his wife sprawled out on the bed. He should feel guilty that he ended up sleeping out on the couch instead of crawling into bed with her, but his sympathies are dead. He would have spent a sleepless night either way.
He's thankful that Katy is too tired to comprehend that the other half of the bed next to her is completely untouched. He had told her that he would come to bed last night after having camped out in the living room for so long, just scribbling lyrics away on scrap paper and napkins for hours on end. He hadn't even left his seat for dinner (not that Kris would want Katy's cooking anyway--she's not the best cook in the world).
He couldn't even remember what time he had actually dozed off. He knew it was really early in the morning, because the street lights had died down for a little while and it was pitch black outside. It was all just a blur really. All he can remember is collapsing on the couch, exhaustion finally hitting him as he closed his eyes. He's grateful that he slept at all--sleep translates to a clean slate.
"Do you want breakfast, Kris?" Katy asks as he is about to gather his things.
"Not necessary." The tension he feels around Katy multiplies as he hesitates, walking over to the bed and giving her a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Go back to sleep." He can't help but note the lack of emotion he feels for her right now as she rolls back over, groaning. Kris stands there, waits a second, but his wife doesn't even wish him luck. She just dozes off again the moment her head hits the pillow.
Sighing quietly, Kris shoves his wallet into his pocket and goes to grab the lyrics he left lying around on the coffee table on the living room. The glass top is covered in crumpled napkins and ripped up pieces of paper. He quietly gathers them, one line catching his attention in particular:
"The curtain is still down, but I'm waiting for you to call me for my encore."
He promptly tosses all of the lyrics into the garbage, pretending that they aren't real. He never quite forgets about them though, even after stepping out the door. Guilty synapses reactivate as he turns the key in the car's ignition. He just sits there in the driveway for fifteen minutes, traveling, but never really going anywhere.
August 12, 2010. 5:05 AM.
Adam is staring in the bathroom mirror. Life has gone on, even though his mind is still stuck on seven days ago. It's a perplexing feeling, he believes, one he doesn't completely understand. The funniest part, is that nobody else knows about this freeze in time. It's just Adam and Kris.
Only Adam and Kris.
Suddenly, Adam's eyes look startlingly baggier. He needs more eyeliner today. He pulls out the kohl, and lines his eyes, smudging the edges of a blotchy mess and blending that with grey eye shadow. He adjusts his hair, adjusts the collar on his jacket. He's not going out until seven-thirty, but he doesn't want to look like shit today, so he's being extra careful.
People have been asking him questions, questions he'd rather avoid, questions that were never meant to be asked aloud. He doesn't need more questions to arise because his make-up isn't up to par. He needs to pretend that it's just another day like any other. Adam's a great actor, and he knows it--he's pulled off trickier things that this--but there's only so many lines he can spoon feed to reporters before they begin to become suspicious...
He tip-toes down the hallway, his black boots clicking the wood as he looks at his home phone, blinking like a beacon in the middle of the kitchen counter. He knows Kris has been leaving messages on the phone for him--he's heard all of his excuses, and they always sound the same. Kris always goes on about how sorry he is, that he's going to finally get off his ass and think about doing something about the two of them.
Not actually do, but think, like it's the biggest fucking improvement ever.
It almost makes Adam sick to his stomach. He doesn't want to say that Kris has sold himself out after winning American Idol, because that would not be an accurate description of it. It's not like Kris has given up everything that he was. He still holds onto his Christian faith, and he still keeps in contact with his friends from Arkansas. He's still nice, still a good person on the inside, and can at least keep his bullshit consistent.
Still though, something has to be said for the way Kris made Adam feel.
It's not like Kris hadn't encouraged it. He let Adam touch him before, let him do what he wanted. At the same time, Kris was just being Kris, and that was the worst part of all of it. He had tried to back off, to stay committed to his marriage, but somehow they always found themselves drawn to each other. Adam couldn't stop no matter how much he tried to keep the just-friends mentality. He always had to keep an eye on the other man, see with whom he was flirting and schmoozing with.
If anyone had sold out, it was Adam himself. It was always Adam selling out--selling his soul, selling what was left for his management, for records, for fans. Adam is going to keep selling himself until there's nothing left for him to buy. It's a charade that he is all too happy to keep up with since it's the only thing he can do to cope.
August 5th, 2010. 9:57 PM.
Adam opens the door, looking around cautiously before he lets Kris in. Every movement of his is done with a delicate quality that Kris both finds envious and intriguing at the same time. Their footsteps are soft on the wooden floor as they go to settle themselves in the kitchenette. Adam goes to the cupboard and pours wine for the two of them, but he barely even touches his as Kris downs his glass within a few minutes.
Kris isn't usually a drinker, but he needs the moral support right now. It's the first time him and Adam have been alone together after a mutual agreement that they needed to be separated for a little while, and despite the distance, Kris has found that his feelings have only multiplied. His stomach is churning butterflies as he watches the black haired man pace back and forth in the kitchen, his perfectly manicured nails gliding across the countertop gracefully.
"How are you doing?" he asks casually. Kris knows that despite his tone, he is growing just as nervous as he is about this situation. He can see the energy they're exchanging right in Adam's electric blue eyes.
"I've been busy. Touring was...fine."
None of this is doing anything to calm his nerves.
"You don't sound excited. I thought you loved touring," Adam says, chuckling half-heartedly, as his fingers skim the opening of his wine glass. The glass makes a hypnotizing sound as he keeps circling the cup's entry, softly. Kris nervously swallows, trying to keep any impure thoughts out of mind.
"I do, I've just been distracted," he murmurs, face flushing. He looks down at the glass of wine in his hand. He can't help but feel that it's all going to his head, which is odd. Kris has a decent level of tolerance for alcohol, and he swears that he couldn't have had that many glasses to drink.
"Distracted with what?" Adam asks, taking the glass from Kris and putting it in the sink with the other dirty dishes.
Despite all logic, Kris finds himself scanning the other man up and down approvingly, ashamed. He thought he was over this. Why is it all hitting him in the face now? Why now? He shakes his head silently, trying to forget the moment as he looks at the eclectic painting hanging on the wall in Adam's living room. It's not particularly pretty, nor is it particularly interesting. It's just a black canvas with one heavy stripe of red causing a schism right in the middle.
"It's really simple, but I liked the concept," Adam explains, leaning on the countertop as his eyes trace along the imperfect stripe.
"...Where did you get it?" Kris forces himself to say.
"Recent date gave it to me," Adam responds as if the words don't have any significance at all.
"Are you seeing him again?"
Kris doesn't really want to hear the answer.
"He was nice, but he really wasn't my type." Adam chuckles, eyeing the painting again. "No skin off my back though. The feeling was pretty mutual. He only gave me the painting because he was plugging himself in." Kris rolls his eyes. Of course Adam would make an innuendo at this point.
The married man stands, up, exploring more of the living room. He's never really been to Adam's apartment before, and this is his chance to found out new things about his friend. He runs his hands along the back of the couch, feeling the suede backing. He leans forward, looking at the painted glass of the lampshade sitting on the side table. This decoration is almost exactly how he imagined it.
"Like it?" Adam;s voice is a melodic rumble in Kris's ear, making him constrain a shiver as he reels.
"Where did you get this furniture?" The question falls out of his mouth in an awkward stumble.
"One of the shops on Main Street. Drake helped me."
Just hearing the name brings back the daggers poking the edges of Kris's heart, even as he circles to the other side of the couch.
"Have you seen him lately?"
Adam arches a brow. "We had drinks with Brad last Sunday." Kris turns back around, his face flushing. He could have used a drink on the Sabbath too. "And then I had another date the day after. That one didn't go over so well neither."
"Really?" Kris remarks flatly.
"I ran late after a recording session. Date wasn't really too impressed with that," Adam laughs. "Who cares though? How are you doing, Kris? How is Katy doing? H-How is everyone?" Adam is so genuinely excited to see Kris. He has the largest smile stretching across his face, making his blue eyes twinkle. Kris wants to puke so badly right now as he sees the glee on the other man's face.
"Katy and I are...doing okay," he lies. Adam doesn't need to know. There's many things that Kris is honest with him about, but he can't bring himself to tell him the truth.
"Any wild nights lately?" Adam asks, strangely innocent sounding for such a racy question. He tosses a playful wink, just for good measure. It doesn't really catch Kris off-guard, because he is used to sharing stories with Adam thanks to their stay together in the Idol mansion. However, this is the first time ever that he has come up short, and he's embarrassed to admit it.
"Been busy touring," Kris blurts.
It's the most diplomatic answer he can come up with on the spot. He's telling the truth, but at the same time Adam doesn't know the entire situation. It's a win-win for everyone involved, even those who aren't even around to care.
"I suppose I can see that." Adam scratches the back of his head, blushing. "I haven't gotten much neither." He is scutinizing Kris, but the other man pretends not to notice. "Work."
"You don't sound like you've been busy with just work with dating and all." Adam arches a brow, leaning forward on the back of the couch.
"What was that?"
"It was nothing."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine."
Adam circles back around the couch to Kris, his face softening. "What's the matter, Kris?" He places a hand on the married man's shoulder, but finds that he quickly pulls away. Kris tenses up completely as he tries to start walking back into the kitchen, his eyes focused on his own two feet as he slumps forward.
"Why am I here, Adam?" Kris's brown eyes are wide as he pivots around, his hands trembling. "What am I doing here?" He tries to hold back everything that's threatening to burst right now, but his heart is too heavy, too full.
Kris has been holding onto these feelings for months. All the photos in the press, all the rumors flying around the tabloids, but Kris didn't want to believe any of them. It's not like he had expected for Adam to wait around for him, if he had been waiting at all. Both of them were too mature, too smart for that. He didn't expect to show up at Adam's apartment though, not like this. He didn't expect to find himself subjected to Adam excitedly talking about boys. Kris didn't expect to see his eyes light up the way they did, and it was hurting him more than he wanted to admit.
"Kris?"
"Why am I here?" His voice carries more weight this time, buckling under stress.
Adam seems taken aback, but he does his best to come up with an answer. "Because we're friends, Kris. We're friends, and we haven't seen each other in months."
"Are we really friends, Adam?" Kris's chest suddenly feels tight, the air in the room too much for him to breathe in.
"What's that supposed to mean, Kris? Of course we're friends." Adam pauses, thinking about his words carefully. "What makes you think we aren't?"
"It's not that we aren't!" Kris's voice hitches. "It's that...I..."
Adam steps forward, starting the close the gap in-between them. "You what? "
Kris doesn't even know where to begin. There's so many things he could start talking about right now. He could start talking about how Adam has grown so much as a person within the last year or so, while Kris feels like he is stuck in the same place that he was a year ago. He could bring up how beautiful and happy Adam looks, while Kris just feels so much older. Or the most pressing issue at the moment, he could bring up how he is stuck in a dead-end marriage while Adam is out sleeping around and having the greatest damn time of his life.
Kris starts to try to form the words, but they refuse to come out of his mouth. It's too much for him to handle, too much to condense into one sentence. He finds himself leaning forward, burying his face into Adam's shoulder, his fingers curling as he holds onto his shirt. He keeps holding on past what is normal for friends, but Kris doesn't want to let go. This feels so right, and after everything else he has denied himself, he can't deny himself this.
He looks up, arms still linked around Adam's waist. The other man isn't fighting back, and there is a content glint in his eye, but his face remains stern. His mouth is rigid as he purses his lips, no hope of a smile breaking his expression.
"Tell me what's going on. Kris," Adam insists.
Kris pulls away, his eyes locking onto Adam's. It's only a matter of time before they lean in, their lips barely brushing together. Kris has been holding this back for weeks, months. There's nowhere for him to escape to, so the only direction he can keep pushing in is forward. Kris can feel Adam try to pull away as he leans in again, but he grabs his black hair, kissing him more fiercely.
The married man lets everything go, gives in.
"Kris--"
He cuts Adam off once.
"Kris--"
He pulls away, his breath growing heavier as he jerks away, realizing what he's just done, what he feels, what is happening. He realizes that he's just using Adam as a crash site, and it's not fair to him. As Kris cups Adam's cheek, he thinking about how long he's been pondering this moment, how long he's wanted this. He doesn't want to let go, so he does the only other thing he can do.
He leans in again hungrily, but his eyes widen when he feels Adam tense under his touch. Kris tries more--it's not like Adam has verbally told him to stop. Adam's hands ride up to his chest and it is making him more excited than he cares to admit. He can't control the hitching in his breath as he pulls away, unsteady as he and Adam look at one another.
"I-I think you need to go," Adam manages.
Kris can't help but notice how old Adam looks right now. It's almost like staring into a mirror, as if time slapped Adam in the face. Is he as worn out as Kris is, or is his acting just that perfect? Kris leans in closer to get a look, but Adam's hands are an effective barrier against his curiosity.
"You need to go," Adam reiterates, backing away and letting his hands drop.
"What if I don't want to, Adam?" Kris asks, his voice cracking. He takes a step forward. "E-Everything I want...is here." Adam is taken aback, but he's not resisting as Kris starts to corner him in the hallway. He wasn't completely oblivious to Kris's growing feelings for him, but he had no idea that they were so heavy-handed.
"What has gotten into you? This isn't like you at all."
"I just miss you."
"You miss me?"
"Yes." Kris slams his hands on the wall as he traps Adam. "And what am I supposed to think of you fooling around?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I didn't believe the rumors when people had been saying you were sleeping around, but you...you've basically answered all my questions already, haven't you?"
Adam's expression contorts as he turns the tables, taking his turn to pin Kris against the wall. "Me saying I've been dating automatically qualifies the slut label from you?" Kris's eyes widen as he shakes he head, trying to speak.
"I-I didn't say--"
"'Fooling around'? That sounds like you're calling me a slut." Adam's eyes water, but he won't cry right now, especially in front of Kris. Crying won't get him anywhere, as much as he wants to. "Why do you even care what I do anyway?"
"Because I miss you." Kris tries to reach up and place a hand on Adam's cheek, but Adam forces his wrist back around the terra-cotta colored wall.
"So you call me a slut because you miss me?" Adam asks incredulously.
Kris knows that Adam is looking for something more, but he doesn't know if he can bring himself to answer the way he wants. He is so used to being in denial, trying to explain every little feeling and thought away. Even now, he's already attempting to explain away kissing Adam to nerves, passion, heat of the moment.
"Don't put words in my mouth," Kris verbally fumbles, his face flushing.
"What was that?" Adam's tone is mocking. His grip on Kris's wrist loosens, and the shorter man takes the opportunity to shove Adam away.
"I said don't put words into my mouth." Kris shakes his head, biting his lip as he continues. "I've been fighting myself for the last couple of months, Adam, because I didn't want to hurt anyone. I want to do the right thing!"
"The right thing?" The words sting. "Then what the hell was that?" Adam touches his lips, looking at Kris as his brows knit together.
"I-I don't know." Kris doesn't want to admit the truth--that he was jealous of all of the men who could publicly date Adam without any scrutiny. He wishes that he was them, that he could have Adam all to himself, but that's so far away from the reality he is stuck in that it kills him a little bit more every day.
He thought Katy was the love of his life. She must have been at one point, Kris believes. He nearly dropped everything for her, including his love of music. If it weren't for the fact that American Idol intervened, he would be a washed-up has-been in Arkansas and Katy would probably be pregnant with triplets or something.
Before he won the competition, Kris had been tempted to drop out some days, or to just quit music entirely. Katy had stopped him so many times from doing that, she had kept pushing him. She told him not to squander his talent. Hethought that his wife would have been completely supportive of him after the move from Arkansas to Los Angeles. She surely as someone who wanted an acting job would have understood that a move like that was important, nay, essential.
Now it felt like it was all for nothing with Katy. Any support she had was gone. The enthusiasm, the love, was gone from her eyes. If it weren't for Adam, Kris would be wondering what he had done all of this for.
Thank God for Adam.
On the other hand, Kris finds it so tragic that he can't admit any of this to him.
"I don't know. I just...I want my turn."
"Oh, you mean you want a turn with the slut." Adam lewdly jerks at the belt loops on his pants. "It's right here, Allen."
"Not like that!" Kris blurts. Adam's face softens for a split second as Kris gathers his thoughts. "I mean, it's not that I...I mean...Why can't it be us? Why can't it be Kris and Adam Allen instead of Adam and some faceless guy?"
Kris doesn't even try to dodge the hand that smacks across his cheek.
"How can you even say that?" Adam chuckles bitterly, but it's more of a knee-jerk reaction than any kind of amusement.
"I miss you."
Adam slaps Kris again, this time leaving a darker mark on his face than the first one.
"You think it's easier for me, Kris?" His voice booms, grows louder. "You knew I had a crush on you, and you know what, things haven't changed since then. If anything, they've probably gotten worse. It's great when I'm alone in bed screwing myself, but damn, it sucks when I see you out on the town with Katy while you two play house. "
"Then you know how I feel."
"No, you're wrong. I don't know how you feel. And you know what? Fuck you, Kris. Fuck you. You don't know how I feel." Adam grabs Kris's shoulders, his fingernails digging through Kris's shirt. "I'm not the married one, and I sure as hell don't want to be a labeled a home wrecker."
"You're not a home wrecker--"
"I watch you and her and I always feel so heartbroken, Kris. I see you two kiss, hug, be in love, and I want that to be me. I can't be jealous of Katy, because then everyone just assumes. I can't even talk to you without people wondering what is on my mind. Do you just expect me to sit around and do nothing? Am I supposed to be like some nun while you get to go home to her every night?"
"I didn't expect you to be."
"Then what did you expect, Kris?"
Kris doesn't even know how to answer. "I miss you--"
"Just shut up, Kris. Shut up."
There is a moment of silence between the two of them. Both of them know that they are going nowhere with this argument right now. There's no more grey area around to be their safety net. Everything is too good and terrible and right. Things would be so much easier if this had never happened, but they've won and lost a battle at the same time, a paradox they never thought that they would cross:
Both of them lean in, taking in one last kiss before Adam confirms the truth:
"You need to leave."
August 20, 2010. 3:40 PM
Kris is onstage for his final bow, mist billowing around his feet as roadies set off the dry ice. The guitar's chords resonate in the lofty stadium, the crowd in front of him driven into silence, too stunned to even applause. Katy stares up at Kris, her mouth gaping as he glares at her, his voice growing more aggressive as he bitterly lashes out at her lyrically.
He's done.
With all of it.
He turns away from Katy, hoping it's the last time he ever has to see her. His voice travels higher and higher into falsetto. His voice has never been this sky-bound before, this forceful. The sound waves ripple, the the drums make the glossy floor vibrate under Kris's feet. The mist intensifies, turning the entire stadium into a snowy soup.
This is who Kris is, who he's meant to be, and he relishes in it as the audience disappears in a flash before his eyes. Everything begins to melt away, leaving him alone on the stage. The band leaves behind him, the roadies make their exit. The audience is gone by the time the mist dissipates. It's only Kris on the stage, playing the last few notes of the song he's covering.
"Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away..."
And off on stage-right, there's Adam, waiting. His face is streaked where his eyeliner has run, but Kris loves the way it looks, the way it fits into the picture all around him and the way it sticks out completely at the same time. Shame strikes Kris in the heart all over again--Adam's eyeliner keeps running down his face and it's all his fault. Adam wants him to come and take his hand, but Kris can't do this to him anymore. He knows where he needs to be right now and there's no convincing him otherwise.
Kris leaves his guitar on the stand next to him and takes one last look out at the empty stadium in front of him. There's nothing left here for him, no point for him to stay and play to thin air. Nobody else wants to hear him cry about what he's done. Kris doesn't even need a final bow, he believes. Just the last stare is all that's needed, the realization that he's been playing to ghosts this entire time.
The lights begin to flicker and die with each movement he takes away from Adam, the sound growing more and more still. All he can hear is his heart beat, Adam's heart beat, in time with his sneakers hitting the ground with each step. It isn't until Kris takes one last look back at Adam, and walks out on him that the last light goes off and the stadium is left in pitch black.
Nobody in the audience knows what has happened to him. Has Kris taken his final bow? Has he found peace backstage? Or maybe, if someone, anyone, out there calls his name, he will he come out for one last encore.
Only the audience can decide whether or not to call his name.
the beginning.
Author: shady_fetish
Artist: angelicrealism -- thanks for fabulous banners! :)
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Kradam, Katy
Warnings strong language, implied sexual content, possible character death
Summary: Kris finds himself in the hospital after ending up in a serious car accident. What follows is a trip down memory lane as he recalls the last week or so of his life. What will Kris discover once he remembers everything?
Part 1
August 16, 2010, 1 P.M.
This lunch date with Katy is not going anything like Kris pictured it. Normally she likes this place okay, or at least that is what she said the last time they came here. He doesn't know if he should believe her anymore though. Lately she's been saying a lot of things that seem to have no follow-up, or any truth to them.
It's like she's a completely different person.
"You seem distant today," Katy points out, jabbing at the greens on her plate. Kris almost believes for a second that she is legitimately concerned until she answers a phone call on her cell. She doesn't even excuse herself as she leaves the table.
Kris finds himself alone once more. He really should be used to this by now. Katy had been able to put up a good front of being a good wife. She used to be able to deal with Kris's career, used to flash a smile at the cameras every time one was pointed at her. She used to show concern for Kris's well-being--hell, she still seems to once in awhile if she's feeling nice enough.
As Kris is discovering though, Katy is a really terrible actress.
Lately, she seems so plain looking, so tired looking. She always spends time staring out the window whenever she is in the apartment. Kris leaves her in the morning when she is usually still in bed, and if he actually bothers coming back that night, she magically is back in her seat at the window, either procrastinating away on her laptop or simply gazing. Kris can't even begin to guess what she is thinking about.
He still can't, even as she sits back down to lunch now.
"So, what have you been up to today?" Kris asks, attempting to start a real conversation.
"Shopping," she answers rather crossly, her cell ringing again. She picks up the phone, not bothering to leave the table this time as she starts chatting with one of her friends.
Kris sighs quietly, shoving his plate away. This is the fifth or sixth time during this meal she has answered her phone and it's getting on his nerves. He almost wonders if he should just walk up and leave her here to pay the bill, but then again, his mother would disapprove of that. It just wouldn't be polite, no matter how clingy Katy was to her phone.
Still though, this was far from what Kris had in mind when he asked Katy out to lunch. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he could actually talk to her once. They haven't had time to really talk lately with his work at the studio. He's been so absorbed in himself lately, and part of him regrets it.
Part of him.
He takes a swig of his water, holding back any annoyance he is carrying inside.
If he smoked, he would certainly need a cigarette right now.
August 16, 2010, 11:30 AM.
Kris doesn't recall being this frustrated for the longest time. Usually he can tolerate the plans management makes for him as far as marketing himself. He was a musician after all, not a salesman. It's one thing to try to sell shoes back in Arkansas, but it's another thing to try and sell your soul out in Los Angeles. There were some truly impossible things that Kris knew he was capable of, but that wasn't one of them, so usually, he left things up to management. He was making enough money to meet the monthly payments for rent, so at first it didn't matter.
Now, though, now things were getting out of hand.
Family-friendly. Christian-oriented crowd. Happily married man.
These were some of the things that management wanted to push. Whatever happened to, say, promoting Kris as a legitimate artist? What happened to trying to give Kris a broader appeal, regardless of religion or cultural background? And most importantly, why force Kris into a box that he wasn't happy with? He wasn't stupid enough to give the full details of how he was feeling that his marriage was off, but he did imply that he wasn't completely happy with his given situation.
"There aren't enough happily married men like you," they had told him.
"But what if 'happily' is a lie?" Kris asked them.
The woman with a grey streak in her hair shot him the nastiest glare possible before he faked a laugh.
"Los Angeles is full of actors, Kris. Whether you're a good one or a bad one is the deciding factor."
Kris isn't supposed to be an actor. Why would he want to act away what he was feeling? It had already screwed things up with Adam, and it's starting to screw things up with Katy. Sometimes he even wonders if this is his life, or if this is the life that management had set up for him. He wonders if he's a genuine person, or if this is just a mask, a facade, that management drapes over him. Kris is just money after all. What do they care if he's happy?
He's thought about dropping the label a couple of times in the past, but now he is seriously considering it. He just wants to make music. He wants to be happy. When he signed up for Idol, he didn't anticipate actually winning it, getting the fame that comes along with the title. He didn't imagine that the love of his life would become one of the elements that made him the most miserable. And he sure as hell never thought, that he would fall in love with another man.
"If I...if I said I didn't want to act--" Kris had started.
"Not yet, Kris. You're not established enough. You just have to hold out for awhile longer. Can you imagine the headlines if you ended up divorcing Katy just a couple of years after you married her?" they shot back.
"What if I..."
Kris shut his mouth then.
He couldn't finish his sentence:
What if I'm gay?
It's not that he hadn't thought of guys like that before going on the show. When he and Katy had split for awhile back in college, he had considered the idea of being with another guy. He never did anything about it--conflicted too much with his religion, even if his family would have been okay with it--but he'd considered it nonetheless. Some of the football players on the college team were pretty cute. He remembered shamelessly flirting with an adorable Hispanic player right after he had helped the quarterback score the championship game. Flirting with a guy, and actually falling for one, however, are two different things as Kris has discovered.
Kris has always wondered what Adam is exactly in his life. He does play the role of friend, and very well at that. If Kris is stressed out, or happy, or sad, or sleepy, Adam is usually the first person to hear about it. If it's a crowd of the guys from Idol, Adam is the first one Kris hugs. Even when they are far apart, they constantly text each other, insistent on being a fixture in the life of one another.
At first, Kris was taking it all in as a close friendship, but as of late, he begins to wonder what if things were never meant to be friendship at all. He begins to wonder what would happen if he was alone in the world again, because then...
Adam could be his, but not as long as things have to stay like this.
Kris is seething as he punches the horn on the steering wheel. People passing by the parking lot stare at him, judging him as they go their way, but he doesn't care right now. He can't just cheat on Katy, but he can't let go neither. For now, he has to put on a poker face for everyone and grin it out until he either outgrows it.
"If you were.." the woman had started, clearing getting what Kris was saying. She refused to say the word though. "...different, then you'd need to up your acting skills. Nobody would buy your music if you revealed it this soon in your career."
A stab in the heart, indifference.
Or denial.
Kris can't decide.
"I..."
"I believe our discussion is over, Mr. Allen," she had said, cutting him off and gathering her things. "If you don't mind, I have other clients to see."
And that's all Kris is--a client. He he's not a face or a name, or an artist, or a voice. He isn't a man who is gay, who is struggling with feelings that may or may be mean a thing. He's just another puppet for management to control until they throw him away for a new one.
"Happily married Christian man."
Kris isn't so sure that he wants to be a happily married man anymore.
August 15, 2010, 5:10 PM.
Adam notices two punks in the parking lot are going at it. He can see the anger flashing in both of their eyes as they exchange words. He can't exactly hear what they are talking about from where he is, but the man on the left is particularly passionate in his bitching. He jabs a finger at the other man accusingly, his eyebrows contorting as he screams. The man on the right is too calm, too quiet.
The man on the right takes off his sunglasses, shaking his head disappointedly. Adam still can't recognize him completely, because he still has a beanie concealing his identity from this distance. The man on the left tries to back away, smug but clearly done with this conversation. However, the man on the right isn't so easily finished.
The man on the right grabs the other's shoulder, his body language suddenly stiffening, reeling. Adam can't help but feel that he should step in at this point, but he's frozen. He can't bring himself to move when both of the men grow more aggressive, their voices becoming louder and louder. The man on the right, despite his small stature, easily holds his own as the man on the left starts shoving him harder, landing punches.
The fight is almost like a flower, slowly blooming. It's all a beautiful escape for Adam, it's everything that he feels right now that he's had a chance to rationalize. The two men have given up using words, and have resorted to brute force. Jackets are being torn off, bruises are being painted on their skin. The man on the left rips off the beanie hat on the man on the right, throwing it to the ground. With the hat off, Adam can see the man's disheveled hair, the way the light hits his emaciated face.
Reality is shattered when security exits from the building, promptly breaking up the fight. Adam watches for a couple of moments as the two men and the guards chat with one another, tensions still high even as they all discover him watching them. Adam decides it's time for him to make his exit from this scene, walking their way to the building.
It would just be another day at work, but then Adam realizes that he recognizes the man on the right now, and it seems he recognizes him too. He stops, his breath hitching as everything barely begins to register.
"Kris..." he trails off.
Kris just stares back, unblinking as Adam walks into the building, leaving him without another word. There's a lot that Adam doesn't know about what he just saw. As he checks in with his boss that day, he mentally pushes the fight aside as Kris just showing his true colors. He just assumes that douche is just picking up a fight because he can, that it's okay to feel sorry for the other man for being in Kris Allen's way.
What Adam doesn't know, is that he's completely wrong. He doesn't know the full story.
He doesn't see the smirk that the other man gives Kris as he leaves, the lewd gestures he makes, the derogatory insults he mouths at him. Kris almost launches himself at the other man again when he says the unrepeatable, but then he remembers how disappointed Adam looked when he passed by, and he bottles everything up. Kris might have been defending Adam, but he can't bring himself to lose it like that again.
August 15, 2010. 7:28 AM.
The sun starts its daily routine, peeking through the blinds and into Kris's apartment. His vision is slightly foggy as he struggles to make out management's identification on his garishly lit cell phone. He knows that he should have tried to sleep more last night, but his attempt to just made him more awake. Now it's too late--he has a meeting to get ready for whether he likes it or not.
He hasn't been out of the house in a week or so--he's lost count of the days. He hasn't shaved, brushed his hair and teeth, nor has he showered. He's ignored all sorts of social and work related commitments. Kris has barely even eaten anything, especially in the last three days, and his lips are cracking because he's been skipping on water.
He numbly sits up on the couch and watches the ceiling fan spin above him in a continuous cycle, the blades whistling as they whip through their own air. He almost feels like he should go and turn the switch off, but he can't even bring himself to do that at the moment. He's too hot, too sweaty, as he quietly stomps into his bedroom to gather his clothes.
He grabs his cell phone sitting on the coffee table, only to leave it unlit and useless on his dresser. Kris has used it to try and call Adam since last week, but the other man refuses to pick up no matter how many messages he leaves on his voicemail. Kris can't say he blames him in the least. If Adam is still half as angry at Kris as he is at himself, then he has no right reason to blame him, no decent motivation.
Kris can't believe he let himself give in like that, when he still had a ring on his finger nonetheless. It wasn't fair to Adam, it wasn't fair to Katy, and it sure as hell wasn't fair to himself. Kris could easily say that Adam twisted his words, but that would be a complete lie. He hasn't needed any assistance twisting his words into another story altogether, and now he doesn't care how selfish he sounds when he thinks that he only wants to help himself out. He just wants to hide the hurt away for a little while longer so that he can pretend it never happened.
"Are you leaving, Kris?" Katy asks sleepily.
"Yeah..." he whispers. "I have a meeting."
Kris, clumsy as he can be this early in the morning, has failed in getting ready quietly. He's just barely zipping up his jeans and putting his cell phone in his pocket as he gazes at his wife sprawled out on the bed. He should feel guilty that he ended up sleeping out on the couch instead of crawling into bed with her, but his sympathies are dead. He would have spent a sleepless night either way.
He's thankful that Katy is too tired to comprehend that the other half of the bed next to her is completely untouched. He had told her that he would come to bed last night after having camped out in the living room for so long, just scribbling lyrics away on scrap paper and napkins for hours on end. He hadn't even left his seat for dinner (not that Kris would want Katy's cooking anyway--she's not the best cook in the world).
He couldn't even remember what time he had actually dozed off. He knew it was really early in the morning, because the street lights had died down for a little while and it was pitch black outside. It was all just a blur really. All he can remember is collapsing on the couch, exhaustion finally hitting him as he closed his eyes. He's grateful that he slept at all--sleep translates to a clean slate.
"Do you want breakfast, Kris?" Katy asks as he is about to gather his things.
"Not necessary." The tension he feels around Katy multiplies as he hesitates, walking over to the bed and giving her a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Go back to sleep." He can't help but note the lack of emotion he feels for her right now as she rolls back over, groaning. Kris stands there, waits a second, but his wife doesn't even wish him luck. She just dozes off again the moment her head hits the pillow.
Sighing quietly, Kris shoves his wallet into his pocket and goes to grab the lyrics he left lying around on the coffee table on the living room. The glass top is covered in crumpled napkins and ripped up pieces of paper. He quietly gathers them, one line catching his attention in particular:
"The curtain is still down, but I'm waiting for you to call me for my encore."
He promptly tosses all of the lyrics into the garbage, pretending that they aren't real. He never quite forgets about them though, even after stepping out the door. Guilty synapses reactivate as he turns the key in the car's ignition. He just sits there in the driveway for fifteen minutes, traveling, but never really going anywhere.
August 12, 2010. 5:05 AM.
Adam is staring in the bathroom mirror. Life has gone on, even though his mind is still stuck on seven days ago. It's a perplexing feeling, he believes, one he doesn't completely understand. The funniest part, is that nobody else knows about this freeze in time. It's just Adam and Kris.
Only Adam and Kris.
Suddenly, Adam's eyes look startlingly baggier. He needs more eyeliner today. He pulls out the kohl, and lines his eyes, smudging the edges of a blotchy mess and blending that with grey eye shadow. He adjusts his hair, adjusts the collar on his jacket. He's not going out until seven-thirty, but he doesn't want to look like shit today, so he's being extra careful.
People have been asking him questions, questions he'd rather avoid, questions that were never meant to be asked aloud. He doesn't need more questions to arise because his make-up isn't up to par. He needs to pretend that it's just another day like any other. Adam's a great actor, and he knows it--he's pulled off trickier things that this--but there's only so many lines he can spoon feed to reporters before they begin to become suspicious...
He tip-toes down the hallway, his black boots clicking the wood as he looks at his home phone, blinking like a beacon in the middle of the kitchen counter. He knows Kris has been leaving messages on the phone for him--he's heard all of his excuses, and they always sound the same. Kris always goes on about how sorry he is, that he's going to finally get off his ass and think about doing something about the two of them.
Not actually do, but think, like it's the biggest fucking improvement ever.
It almost makes Adam sick to his stomach. He doesn't want to say that Kris has sold himself out after winning American Idol, because that would not be an accurate description of it. It's not like Kris has given up everything that he was. He still holds onto his Christian faith, and he still keeps in contact with his friends from Arkansas. He's still nice, still a good person on the inside, and can at least keep his bullshit consistent.
Still though, something has to be said for the way Kris made Adam feel.
It's not like Kris hadn't encouraged it. He let Adam touch him before, let him do what he wanted. At the same time, Kris was just being Kris, and that was the worst part of all of it. He had tried to back off, to stay committed to his marriage, but somehow they always found themselves drawn to each other. Adam couldn't stop no matter how much he tried to keep the just-friends mentality. He always had to keep an eye on the other man, see with whom he was flirting and schmoozing with.
If anyone had sold out, it was Adam himself. It was always Adam selling out--selling his soul, selling what was left for his management, for records, for fans. Adam is going to keep selling himself until there's nothing left for him to buy. It's a charade that he is all too happy to keep up with since it's the only thing he can do to cope.
August 5th, 2010. 9:57 PM.
Adam opens the door, looking around cautiously before he lets Kris in. Every movement of his is done with a delicate quality that Kris both finds envious and intriguing at the same time. Their footsteps are soft on the wooden floor as they go to settle themselves in the kitchenette. Adam goes to the cupboard and pours wine for the two of them, but he barely even touches his as Kris downs his glass within a few minutes.
Kris isn't usually a drinker, but he needs the moral support right now. It's the first time him and Adam have been alone together after a mutual agreement that they needed to be separated for a little while, and despite the distance, Kris has found that his feelings have only multiplied. His stomach is churning butterflies as he watches the black haired man pace back and forth in the kitchen, his perfectly manicured nails gliding across the countertop gracefully.
"How are you doing?" he asks casually. Kris knows that despite his tone, he is growing just as nervous as he is about this situation. He can see the energy they're exchanging right in Adam's electric blue eyes.
"I've been busy. Touring was...fine."
None of this is doing anything to calm his nerves.
"You don't sound excited. I thought you loved touring," Adam says, chuckling half-heartedly, as his fingers skim the opening of his wine glass. The glass makes a hypnotizing sound as he keeps circling the cup's entry, softly. Kris nervously swallows, trying to keep any impure thoughts out of mind.
"I do, I've just been distracted," he murmurs, face flushing. He looks down at the glass of wine in his hand. He can't help but feel that it's all going to his head, which is odd. Kris has a decent level of tolerance for alcohol, and he swears that he couldn't have had that many glasses to drink.
"Distracted with what?" Adam asks, taking the glass from Kris and putting it in the sink with the other dirty dishes.
Despite all logic, Kris finds himself scanning the other man up and down approvingly, ashamed. He thought he was over this. Why is it all hitting him in the face now? Why now? He shakes his head silently, trying to forget the moment as he looks at the eclectic painting hanging on the wall in Adam's living room. It's not particularly pretty, nor is it particularly interesting. It's just a black canvas with one heavy stripe of red causing a schism right in the middle.
"It's really simple, but I liked the concept," Adam explains, leaning on the countertop as his eyes trace along the imperfect stripe.
"...Where did you get it?" Kris forces himself to say.
"Recent date gave it to me," Adam responds as if the words don't have any significance at all.
"Are you seeing him again?"
Kris doesn't really want to hear the answer.
"He was nice, but he really wasn't my type." Adam chuckles, eyeing the painting again. "No skin off my back though. The feeling was pretty mutual. He only gave me the painting because he was plugging himself in." Kris rolls his eyes. Of course Adam would make an innuendo at this point.
The married man stands, up, exploring more of the living room. He's never really been to Adam's apartment before, and this is his chance to found out new things about his friend. He runs his hands along the back of the couch, feeling the suede backing. He leans forward, looking at the painted glass of the lampshade sitting on the side table. This decoration is almost exactly how he imagined it.
"Like it?" Adam;s voice is a melodic rumble in Kris's ear, making him constrain a shiver as he reels.
"Where did you get this furniture?" The question falls out of his mouth in an awkward stumble.
"One of the shops on Main Street. Drake helped me."
Just hearing the name brings back the daggers poking the edges of Kris's heart, even as he circles to the other side of the couch.
"Have you seen him lately?"
Adam arches a brow. "We had drinks with Brad last Sunday." Kris turns back around, his face flushing. He could have used a drink on the Sabbath too. "And then I had another date the day after. That one didn't go over so well neither."
"Really?" Kris remarks flatly.
"I ran late after a recording session. Date wasn't really too impressed with that," Adam laughs. "Who cares though? How are you doing, Kris? How is Katy doing? H-How is everyone?" Adam is so genuinely excited to see Kris. He has the largest smile stretching across his face, making his blue eyes twinkle. Kris wants to puke so badly right now as he sees the glee on the other man's face.
"Katy and I are...doing okay," he lies. Adam doesn't need to know. There's many things that Kris is honest with him about, but he can't bring himself to tell him the truth.
"Any wild nights lately?" Adam asks, strangely innocent sounding for such a racy question. He tosses a playful wink, just for good measure. It doesn't really catch Kris off-guard, because he is used to sharing stories with Adam thanks to their stay together in the Idol mansion. However, this is the first time ever that he has come up short, and he's embarrassed to admit it.
"Been busy touring," Kris blurts.
It's the most diplomatic answer he can come up with on the spot. He's telling the truth, but at the same time Adam doesn't know the entire situation. It's a win-win for everyone involved, even those who aren't even around to care.
"I suppose I can see that." Adam scratches the back of his head, blushing. "I haven't gotten much neither." He is scutinizing Kris, but the other man pretends not to notice. "Work."
"You don't sound like you've been busy with just work with dating and all." Adam arches a brow, leaning forward on the back of the couch.
"What was that?"
"It was nothing."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine."
Adam circles back around the couch to Kris, his face softening. "What's the matter, Kris?" He places a hand on the married man's shoulder, but finds that he quickly pulls away. Kris tenses up completely as he tries to start walking back into the kitchen, his eyes focused on his own two feet as he slumps forward.
"Why am I here, Adam?" Kris's brown eyes are wide as he pivots around, his hands trembling. "What am I doing here?" He tries to hold back everything that's threatening to burst right now, but his heart is too heavy, too full.
Kris has been holding onto these feelings for months. All the photos in the press, all the rumors flying around the tabloids, but Kris didn't want to believe any of them. It's not like he had expected for Adam to wait around for him, if he had been waiting at all. Both of them were too mature, too smart for that. He didn't expect to show up at Adam's apartment though, not like this. He didn't expect to find himself subjected to Adam excitedly talking about boys. Kris didn't expect to see his eyes light up the way they did, and it was hurting him more than he wanted to admit.
"Kris?"
"Why am I here?" His voice carries more weight this time, buckling under stress.
Adam seems taken aback, but he does his best to come up with an answer. "Because we're friends, Kris. We're friends, and we haven't seen each other in months."
"Are we really friends, Adam?" Kris's chest suddenly feels tight, the air in the room too much for him to breathe in.
"What's that supposed to mean, Kris? Of course we're friends." Adam pauses, thinking about his words carefully. "What makes you think we aren't?"
"It's not that we aren't!" Kris's voice hitches. "It's that...I..."
Adam steps forward, starting the close the gap in-between them. "You what? "
Kris doesn't even know where to begin. There's so many things he could start talking about right now. He could start talking about how Adam has grown so much as a person within the last year or so, while Kris feels like he is stuck in the same place that he was a year ago. He could bring up how beautiful and happy Adam looks, while Kris just feels so much older. Or the most pressing issue at the moment, he could bring up how he is stuck in a dead-end marriage while Adam is out sleeping around and having the greatest damn time of his life.
Kris starts to try to form the words, but they refuse to come out of his mouth. It's too much for him to handle, too much to condense into one sentence. He finds himself leaning forward, burying his face into Adam's shoulder, his fingers curling as he holds onto his shirt. He keeps holding on past what is normal for friends, but Kris doesn't want to let go. This feels so right, and after everything else he has denied himself, he can't deny himself this.
He looks up, arms still linked around Adam's waist. The other man isn't fighting back, and there is a content glint in his eye, but his face remains stern. His mouth is rigid as he purses his lips, no hope of a smile breaking his expression.
"Tell me what's going on. Kris," Adam insists.
Kris pulls away, his eyes locking onto Adam's. It's only a matter of time before they lean in, their lips barely brushing together. Kris has been holding this back for weeks, months. There's nowhere for him to escape to, so the only direction he can keep pushing in is forward. Kris can feel Adam try to pull away as he leans in again, but he grabs his black hair, kissing him more fiercely.
The married man lets everything go, gives in.
"Kris--"
He cuts Adam off once.
"Kris--"
He pulls away, his breath growing heavier as he jerks away, realizing what he's just done, what he feels, what is happening. He realizes that he's just using Adam as a crash site, and it's not fair to him. As Kris cups Adam's cheek, he thinking about how long he's been pondering this moment, how long he's wanted this. He doesn't want to let go, so he does the only other thing he can do.
He leans in again hungrily, but his eyes widen when he feels Adam tense under his touch. Kris tries more--it's not like Adam has verbally told him to stop. Adam's hands ride up to his chest and it is making him more excited than he cares to admit. He can't control the hitching in his breath as he pulls away, unsteady as he and Adam look at one another.
"I-I think you need to go," Adam manages.
Kris can't help but notice how old Adam looks right now. It's almost like staring into a mirror, as if time slapped Adam in the face. Is he as worn out as Kris is, or is his acting just that perfect? Kris leans in closer to get a look, but Adam's hands are an effective barrier against his curiosity.
"You need to go," Adam reiterates, backing away and letting his hands drop.
"What if I don't want to, Adam?" Kris asks, his voice cracking. He takes a step forward. "E-Everything I want...is here." Adam is taken aback, but he's not resisting as Kris starts to corner him in the hallway. He wasn't completely oblivious to Kris's growing feelings for him, but he had no idea that they were so heavy-handed.
"What has gotten into you? This isn't like you at all."
"I just miss you."
"You miss me?"
"Yes." Kris slams his hands on the wall as he traps Adam. "And what am I supposed to think of you fooling around?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I didn't believe the rumors when people had been saying you were sleeping around, but you...you've basically answered all my questions already, haven't you?"
Adam's expression contorts as he turns the tables, taking his turn to pin Kris against the wall. "Me saying I've been dating automatically qualifies the slut label from you?" Kris's eyes widen as he shakes he head, trying to speak.
"I-I didn't say--"
"'Fooling around'? That sounds like you're calling me a slut." Adam's eyes water, but he won't cry right now, especially in front of Kris. Crying won't get him anywhere, as much as he wants to. "Why do you even care what I do anyway?"
"Because I miss you." Kris tries to reach up and place a hand on Adam's cheek, but Adam forces his wrist back around the terra-cotta colored wall.
"So you call me a slut because you miss me?" Adam asks incredulously.
Kris knows that Adam is looking for something more, but he doesn't know if he can bring himself to answer the way he wants. He is so used to being in denial, trying to explain every little feeling and thought away. Even now, he's already attempting to explain away kissing Adam to nerves, passion, heat of the moment.
"Don't put words in my mouth," Kris verbally fumbles, his face flushing.
"What was that?" Adam's tone is mocking. His grip on Kris's wrist loosens, and the shorter man takes the opportunity to shove Adam away.
"I said don't put words into my mouth." Kris shakes his head, biting his lip as he continues. "I've been fighting myself for the last couple of months, Adam, because I didn't want to hurt anyone. I want to do the right thing!"
"The right thing?" The words sting. "Then what the hell was that?" Adam touches his lips, looking at Kris as his brows knit together.
"I-I don't know." Kris doesn't want to admit the truth--that he was jealous of all of the men who could publicly date Adam without any scrutiny. He wishes that he was them, that he could have Adam all to himself, but that's so far away from the reality he is stuck in that it kills him a little bit more every day.
He thought Katy was the love of his life. She must have been at one point, Kris believes. He nearly dropped everything for her, including his love of music. If it weren't for the fact that American Idol intervened, he would be a washed-up has-been in Arkansas and Katy would probably be pregnant with triplets or something.
Before he won the competition, Kris had been tempted to drop out some days, or to just quit music entirely. Katy had stopped him so many times from doing that, she had kept pushing him. She told him not to squander his talent. Hethought that his wife would have been completely supportive of him after the move from Arkansas to Los Angeles. She surely as someone who wanted an acting job would have understood that a move like that was important, nay, essential.
Now it felt like it was all for nothing with Katy. Any support she had was gone. The enthusiasm, the love, was gone from her eyes. If it weren't for Adam, Kris would be wondering what he had done all of this for.
Thank God for Adam.
On the other hand, Kris finds it so tragic that he can't admit any of this to him.
"I don't know. I just...I want my turn."
"Oh, you mean you want a turn with the slut." Adam lewdly jerks at the belt loops on his pants. "It's right here, Allen."
"Not like that!" Kris blurts. Adam's face softens for a split second as Kris gathers his thoughts. "I mean, it's not that I...I mean...Why can't it be us? Why can't it be Kris and Adam Allen instead of Adam and some faceless guy?"
Kris doesn't even try to dodge the hand that smacks across his cheek.
"How can you even say that?" Adam chuckles bitterly, but it's more of a knee-jerk reaction than any kind of amusement.
"I miss you."
Adam slaps Kris again, this time leaving a darker mark on his face than the first one.
"You think it's easier for me, Kris?" His voice booms, grows louder. "You knew I had a crush on you, and you know what, things haven't changed since then. If anything, they've probably gotten worse. It's great when I'm alone in bed screwing myself, but damn, it sucks when I see you out on the town with Katy while you two play house. "
"Then you know how I feel."
"No, you're wrong. I don't know how you feel. And you know what? Fuck you, Kris. Fuck you. You don't know how I feel." Adam grabs Kris's shoulders, his fingernails digging through Kris's shirt. "I'm not the married one, and I sure as hell don't want to be a labeled a home wrecker."
"You're not a home wrecker--"
"I watch you and her and I always feel so heartbroken, Kris. I see you two kiss, hug, be in love, and I want that to be me. I can't be jealous of Katy, because then everyone just assumes. I can't even talk to you without people wondering what is on my mind. Do you just expect me to sit around and do nothing? Am I supposed to be like some nun while you get to go home to her every night?"
"I didn't expect you to be."
"Then what did you expect, Kris?"
Kris doesn't even know how to answer. "I miss you--"
"Just shut up, Kris. Shut up."
There is a moment of silence between the two of them. Both of them know that they are going nowhere with this argument right now. There's no more grey area around to be their safety net. Everything is too good and terrible and right. Things would be so much easier if this had never happened, but they've won and lost a battle at the same time, a paradox they never thought that they would cross:
Both of them lean in, taking in one last kiss before Adam confirms the truth:
"You need to leave."
August 20, 2010. 3:40 PM
Kris is onstage for his final bow, mist billowing around his feet as roadies set off the dry ice. The guitar's chords resonate in the lofty stadium, the crowd in front of him driven into silence, too stunned to even applause. Katy stares up at Kris, her mouth gaping as he glares at her, his voice growing more aggressive as he bitterly lashes out at her lyrically.
He's done.
With all of it.
He turns away from Katy, hoping it's the last time he ever has to see her. His voice travels higher and higher into falsetto. His voice has never been this sky-bound before, this forceful. The sound waves ripple, the the drums make the glossy floor vibrate under Kris's feet. The mist intensifies, turning the entire stadium into a snowy soup.
This is who Kris is, who he's meant to be, and he relishes in it as the audience disappears in a flash before his eyes. Everything begins to melt away, leaving him alone on the stage. The band leaves behind him, the roadies make their exit. The audience is gone by the time the mist dissipates. It's only Kris on the stage, playing the last few notes of the song he's covering.
"Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away..."
And off on stage-right, there's Adam, waiting. His face is streaked where his eyeliner has run, but Kris loves the way it looks, the way it fits into the picture all around him and the way it sticks out completely at the same time. Shame strikes Kris in the heart all over again--Adam's eyeliner keeps running down his face and it's all his fault. Adam wants him to come and take his hand, but Kris can't do this to him anymore. He knows where he needs to be right now and there's no convincing him otherwise.
Kris leaves his guitar on the stand next to him and takes one last look out at the empty stadium in front of him. There's nothing left here for him, no point for him to stay and play to thin air. Nobody else wants to hear him cry about what he's done. Kris doesn't even need a final bow, he believes. Just the last stare is all that's needed, the realization that he's been playing to ghosts this entire time.
The lights begin to flicker and die with each movement he takes away from Adam, the sound growing more and more still. All he can hear is his heart beat, Adam's heart beat, in time with his sneakers hitting the ground with each step. It isn't until Kris takes one last look back at Adam, and walks out on him that the last light goes off and the stadium is left in pitch black.
Nobody in the audience knows what has happened to him. Has Kris taken his final bow? Has he found peace backstage? Or maybe, if someone, anyone, out there calls his name, he will he come out for one last encore.
Only the audience can decide whether or not to call his name.
the beginning.