Glamverse fic: Monster Within [Adam/Tommy] Chapter 2
[Chapter 1]
[Master Post]
Chapter 2
Adam watched from an upstairs window as Tommy hurried away from the house, surrounded by friends patting him on the back. Adam's enhanced hearing allowed him to listen in on them as they praised Tommy for lasting the longest. So far, Tommy hadn't mentioned a word about the fact that the house wasn't haunted by a ghost, but was instead occupied by a monster.
Adam scowled. He'd never been that sloppy with intruders snooping around the property before. He'd always managed to keep to the shadows, to keep moving faster than the human eye could see when he was in the light, and because of that, he'd scared off everyone who had ever entered the house. But as much as he wanted to keep people thinking the house was haunted so it wouldn't sell and he wouldn't have to relocate again, he couldn't let Tommy break his neck falling down the stairs, either.
Claws digging into the window molding hard enough to make the wood split, Adam snarled. What the hell had possessed Tommy and his friends to come play Haunted Mansion, anyway? Until now, he'd kept himself completely off Tommy's radar. He'd been so careful. Ever since he'd first seen Tommy out walking one night, he'd managed to stay in the shadows of Tommy's world, peeking in on his life whenever he could manage it without Tommy noticing. But now…
Now Tommy knew he existed. All because Adam hadn't been able to let him fall. True, he could have set Tommy down and gotten out of sight before Tommy saw him, but it had been hard enough to let go when he'd had Tommy pinned against the door in his bedroom. He hadn't been able to make himself do it again when Tommy fell on top of him, so he'd ended up revealing himself. And while Tommy had reacted with surprise and a healthy amount of fear when confronted by something with claws that was stronger and faster than a human, he hadn't reacted with revulsion the way Adam had thought he would. Hell, he'd tried to have a conversation with Adam.
Once the group was off the property and making their way down the street, Adam turned away from the window and blinked. He still couldn't believe Tommy had not only been in the mansion, but had been in his room. What were the chances, really, that the man he'd been admiring from afar for the better part of half a year showed up on his doorstep?
He was torn about how to feel. One part of him was happy that he'd finally made contact, that Tommy knew he existed, especially since Tommy hadn't seemed repulsed by him. The other part, though, that part was livid. It should have never happened, both for Adam's state of mind and for Tommy's safety. It was too dangerous for Tommy to know about him. Too much could go wrong.
Inhaling, Adam growled as he picked up several scents besides Tommy's. They had invaded his space. His room. It didn't matter that he was just holed up in an abandoned house he had no actual rights to. He'd been staying there for years now. He thought of it as his. He'd lucked out that the actual owners never stopped by to check on the place. Otherwise they might question why the electric, cable and water were all hooked up and being paid for by someone other than them.
Stomping toward the closet of the room he slept in at night, he stepped inside, glanced up at the attic access that he never bothered to cover up, and jumped. He easily cleared the opening, feet landing on the attic floor with a soft thud. He glanced around at his art studio, thankful no one had found the access or a way up there. With the exception of Tommy, Adam wasn't sure he could have reined in the demon or the rage that came with it if they had. He'd had a hard enough time staying in control when they'd entered his bedroom.
He knew he should just buy the place. He had enough money, after all. But doing so would put his address on public record. He sold his art at galleries around the world and was successful enough at it that there was buzz surrounding him and the fact that he was a recluse whose face no one had ever seen. It would be just his luck that some overachieving reporter or an overenthusiastic art aficionado would find a way to track him down in order to be the one to put a face to the name on the paintings.
No, as long as he could keep scaring people off, it was the best option. If it ever came to the point that someone was willing to buy in spite of the fact that the house was supposedly haunted, he'd reconsider. But now there was Tommy and his foolish friends. Tommy, who had discovered his secret, or at least part of it. Adam had no idea what he would do with that information. From what Adam had overheard, it sounded like Tommy planned to let the others keep assuming the place was haunted. Who knew what he'd do come morning once he had the night to sleep on it, though.
Adam crossed to his easel and sat. He picked up the charcoal he used for sketching, needing to work out some of the tension and fear thrumming through him. He couldn't get his mind off Tommy, as usual, but now it was worse. Now he knew how Tommy's body fit with his. How delicious it felt when Tommy squirmed against him. How he sounded when he'd thought he was going to fall. The way he'd gone still and silent when Adam had pinned him to the door. Adam was almost sure there had been more than fear lurking in Tommy's big, brown eyes.
Given the direction of his thoughts, it wasn't unexpected that he ended up drawing asymmetrical hair, pouty lips and wide eyes. Not unexpected at all, but very, very unwanted.
Tommy woke with a groan, head throbbing and mouth tasting like ass. He squinted against the bright light pouring in the window, and cursed drunk him for forgetting to close the blinds the night before. Flinging an arm over his face, he briefly fantasized about going back in time and kicking his own ass for it. Vaguely amused by the thought, despite the jackhammer currently trying to bust its way out of his skull, Tommy climbed out of bed and stumbled toward the hallway and the bathroom beyond, where the pain pills and the toilet lived.
He recoiled when he stepped inside and flipped the light on, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing as he blindly felt around for the light switch. Quickly, he turned it back off and sighed in relief when he opened his eyes to nothing but shadows. Making his way to the medicine cabinet, he grabbed some ibuprofen and tossed it in his mouth. Picking up what he hoped was a clean cup from the counter, he filled it with water, then used it to down the pills.
Once that was done, he stumbled back to bed, stopping by his window along the way to shut the blinds. With his room nice and dark, he flopped onto his bed, climbed under the covers, and passed the fuck out again.
The next time Tommy woke, he felt a fuck of a lot more human. His mouth still tasted like ass, though, and he felt scuzzy as hell, so he grudgingly got up, grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom.
After a quick shower and shave, he got dressed and threw on some eyeliner. Once he was done, he stopped by his bedroom to grab his wallet, then made his way out to the living room and kitchen. Both were trashed, but he hadn't really expected anything else, even though he couldn't remember most of the night. Or maybe especially because of that. He'd gotten pretty wasted and he assumed the others had, too. There were beer cans scattered over every available surface, and popcorn and nuts littered the floor around the couch and nearby chair.
Sighing, Tommy fished a garbage bag out from under the sink in the kitchen and went to work gathering all the cans and bottles for recycling. He and Dave had a long standing policy that whoever got to the empty cans first after a party got to return them and keep the money for themselves. Deciding to leave the rest of the mess until he had some food in his stomach, Tommy headed for the door.
Half an hour later, he stood in the checkout with ramen noodles and bananas and stared into his empty wallet, not comprehending what he was seeing. Or rather, what he wasn't. He'd had money in there yesterday. He was sure of it.
Shit. He must have spent it last night on snacks after getting drunk. Come to think of it, there hadn't been nuts or popcorn in the apartment, so he'd definitely spent the last of his money until payday at the corner store. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Putting his wallet in his back pocket, he stuffed his hands in his front pockets, embarrassed, and started to tell the cashier that he'd just have to get one twelve pack of the ramen and the bananas, and leave the rest. Before he could, though, he felt something in his pockets. Both of them. Frowning, he pulled his hands out and found himself clutching several tens in each hand.
What the fuck? He stared at them, wondering where they'd come from.
"Is there a problem?" the cashier asked impatiently.
Blinking, Tommy looked up at her. "Uh, no. Here," he said, thrusting one of the tens at her. He straightened out the others, pulled his wallet back out, and stuffed them inside.
Taking the money from him, she made change and handed it to him. Grabbing his bag, Tommy stumbled out of the store, trying desperately to remember what he'd done the night before. He really, really hoped he hadn't like, knocked off the corner store. He so did not need to go to prison. He'd be someone's bitch for sure.
When he got home, he kicked the door closed distractedly, causing Dave,-who had apparently emerged from his room at some point while Tommy was gone-to jump a mile high on the couch and clutch at his head.
"Dude, watch the migraine, will ya?"
"Sorry," Tommy mumbled, crossing to the kitchen. Grabbing a pan out of the cabinet, he poured water in it and set it on the stove. Removing a packet of noodles from the twelve pack he'd bought, he stuffed the rest away, then proceeded to stare at the pan of water while he waited for it to boil.
"Hangover fucking you up, too?" Dave asked as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cabinet for water.
"Huh?" Tommy asked. "Oh. No. I, like, found fifty bucks in tens in my pockets and I've got no fucking clue how it all got there."
Dave chuckled. "Dude, you really were wasted. That explains how you lasted so long."
"What?" Tommy asked, confused.
"Last night we checked out that haunted house three blocks over. There was a bet on who'd stay in the house the longest, and-"
"I won," Tommy interrupted, memories flooding back.
Claws and black veins and contorted features flashed through Tommy's head and he tensed. A monster. As improbable as it sounded, there had been a monster in that house, not a ghost like everyone thought. Other memories flashed back, memories of the monster's breath on his neck, his body pressed down on Tommy's after he'd saved him from breaking his neck. Claws on his throat, digging in, pinning him to the door as the monster warned him to stay away.
Tommy had been too drunk to do anything but obey and get the hell out of there, but now that he was sober, he had questions, the first of which being whether or not he'd really seen what he'd thought he'd seen. Maybe it had been some sort of alcohol-induced hallucination.
"Yeah," Dave replied, oblivious to the direction Tommy's thoughts had taken. "You did. I never knew you had balls that big, man. I mean, fuck, after that roar or whatever it was, I couldn't get out of that place fast enough. You stayed like, nearly five more minutes than any of the rest of us. Did you see anything?"
So much for an alcohol-induced hallucination, Tommy thought. Maybe, though, his brain was exaggerating what he'd thought he saw in his inebriated state. Maybe what he'd thought had been blackened veins had been a trick of the light or something. And the claws could've been … really long nails. Of course, that didn't explain the distorted facial features or the speed at which the monster had moved. Or how strong the thing … he … it was.
"Yo, Tommy," Dave said, waving a hand in front of Tommy's face.
Tommy blinked, refocusing on the pot of water that was now boiling. "What?"
"I asked if you saw anything after the rest of us left," Dave said.
"Oh, no," Tommy lied, partly because he was pretty sure Dave wouldn't believe him if he told the truth, and partly because he was reluctant to out the monster dude.
The guy, or whatever it was, had gone to a lot of trouble to hide the fact that he was there. Probably because if anyone knew he existed, he'd be hunted down and killed or locked up in some government facility.
"Well, whatever," Dave said, clearly disappointed with that answer. "You stayed, you won, so you got the money."
"Yeah," Tommy said distractedly, a plan to go back to the house to get answers to his questions already taking shape in his head.
That evening, with the excuse he was going down to a club to check out a friend's band, Tommy left the apartment and headed straight for the haunted house. He made it all the way there and to the base of the porch steps before his nerves got the better of him and he hesitated, second-guessing himself.
He shouldn't be there. He'd been warned off, told to not come back. If he had any sense in his head at all, he'd heed the warning, turn and walk away. Except he couldn't. He didn't know why, but he felt a … pull, was the best way he could describe it, to come back, to see the man-monster again.
He was insane. He knew that. The thing was strong enough and fast enough to snap him in two. Hell, for that matter, the monster could probably eviscerate him with one swipe of his claws. Except, the monster had saved Tommy when he'd been about to break his neck. And then offered a hand, claw, whatever to steady Tommy when he'd lost his balance by the door. Whatever else, it was obvious the monster didn't want to hurt him.
Holding on to that theory, Tommy climbed the steps and reached for the doorknob. It didn't turn. He was locked out. He looked down, and while he couldn't be sure, he thought it was a new doorknob entirely. Jaw set, Tommy backed up and glanced around, looking for some other way in. There was none.
Eyes narrowing, Tommy said loudly, "Either let me in or I start telling people you're here!"
Seconds ticked by, and then a sound, like a lock turning, penetrated the cool night air. Holding his breath, Tommy stepped forward and tried the knob again. This time it turned, and the door opened.
Stepping inside, Tommy glanced around. It was just as eerie and creepy inside as last time. It looked just as abandoned, too, although now Tommy knew better.
Closing the door behind him, Tommy said, "Hello?" No answer. Scanning the foyer, his gaze settled on the stairs. Figuring the monster was up there since what seemed to be his bedroom was, Tommy called up them, "I know you're here."
More silence. Just when Tommy started to think he wouldn't get an answer, a gravelly voice said from above, "I told you to stay away."
"Yeah, well, I don't listen very well. It's a flaw," Tommy deadpanned, trying to act like he was bored, not freaking out of his fucking mind.
When no response was forthcoming, Tommy gathered his courage and started for the stairs. He climbed them slowly, listening for any sound of movement, any hint as to where the monster was hiding. When he reached the landing, he crossed to the next set and started up those, figuring the best place to look first was the bedroom he'd been trapped in the night before.
He no more got in the door than it was slammed shut behind him and he was shoved against it, a pissed off looking monster in his face, hand at his throat. "One of these days, that flaw is going to get you killed."
Tommy swallowed hard. "Maybe," he said with a bravado he wasn't really feeling just then, "but I'm betting it won't be today."
Inky black eyes narrowed. "And why is that?"
"Because you saved me. I know you did. And you didn't-haven't-hurt anyone who's ever come in here. You scare them off, make them believe in ghosts, but you don't hurt people."
"You're naïve," the monster spat. "There are ways other than violence to hurt someone."
"Like what?" Tommy asked, gaze moving over the monster's face, cataloging everything. Alcohol hadn't distorted his memories. The man, or whatever he was, was just as twisted, just as menacing looking as Tommy remembered. And the claws pricking at the flesh of Tommy's neck definitely weren't overgrown nails.
"None of your business," the monster snarled. "Get out."
With that, he released Tommy and disappeared from sight. Looking around, Tommy glared into the shadows, sure the monster was still there, hiding and watching him. "No, and if you don't talk to me, I will tell everyone about you."
Seconds ticked by, turning into a minute. Then two. Finally the man-monster stepped out of the shadows on one side of the room. "You want to talk? Then talk."
Tommy shook his head. "No. I want answers. That means you have to talk, too."
The creature stared Tommy down for a moment, then said, "If I have to answer questions, so do you."
Tommy nodded. "Fair enough. I start, though."
"Go ahead," the creature said, voice gravelly.
Thinking through and discarding several questions, Tommy settled on, "What's your name?"
"Don't you mean, what am I?" he scoffed.
"No," Tommy said firmly. "I said what I meant."
There was a pause, then the monster said, "In another life, I was called Adam."
Tommy snorted. "Not like, Adam and Eve Adam from the Bible, right?"
The monster-Adam-rolled his eyes. "No. I'm old, but not that old."
"Good, because finding out in the span of twenty-four hours that the Bible isn't complete fiction like I thought on top of finding out there really are things other than humans roaming around the planet would be a little much," Tommy said.
"My turn," Adam said. Tommy nodded, and Adam took a step closer. "You're not scared of me. Why?"
"Shows what you know. I’m scared fucking shitless right now," Tommy replied.
"Then why come here?" Adam asked.
"Uh uh," Tommy said. "That's two questions in a row."
Adam growled, but pressed his lips tight together and motioned for Tommy to take his turn.
"Okay," Tommy said, thinking fast. He'd hoped he'd get some answers, but he hadn't really expected any so he hadn't planned out questions. "Were you ever human, or were you born this way?"
"I was human once," Adam said. "If you're scared of me, why come back here?"
"Because I had too many questions to stay away," Tommy replied honestly. "You said once. What are you now?"
"A demon," Adam said, the look of disgust on his face making it clear he hated that he was. "Why haven't you told anyone about me?"
"Because … I don't know. I figure if you're going to all this trouble to hide and scare people off, you must have a reason," Tommy said. "Who or what did this to you?"
Adam growled, but answered. "A jealous witch. That's it? You kept your mouth shut just because you figured I had a reason?"
"Yes," Tommy said. "How long have you been stuck this way?"
"Thirty-three years," Adam said, prowling a little closer.
Tommy's eyes widened and before Adam could ask his question, Tommy blurted, "What? How's that possible? You look like you're in your twenties."
"I was twenty-six when I was cursed," Adam said. "The curse froze me in time. Made me immortal so that I would suffer forever. And now I get two questions. "Are you going to tell anyone about me?"
"No," Tommy replied honestly.
Adam cocked his head to the side a little, as if lost in thought, then finally asked, "What do you do?"
Tommy blinked at that, the question coming out of left field. "Um, do? I work as a cubicle rat to pay the bills, but I'm a musician. I play guitar, mainly."
"That explains a lot," Adam said, closing the rest of the distance between them until they were standing only a couple of feet apart.
Tommy's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Adam smiled a little, reaching out to flick Tommy's bangs from his face with one pointed claw. It didn't freak Tommy out like it probably should have. "The hair, the eyeliner, the nail polish…"
Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. "There's nothing wrong with makeup and polish and hair dye."
Shaking his head, Adam turned away and crossed to a window. Staring out of it, he said, "I never said there was."
"Then what are you saying?"
Adam turned to look at Tommy, but his face was in shadows so Tommy couldn't read his expression. "I'm saying I envy you, living your dream."
Tommy snorted. "Hardly. Most of the time it costs me and my band money to play. When we actually turn a profit, it's like, a miracle or some shit."
"But you get to get up on stage and do what you love," Adam insisted. "That's living your dream in my book. I don't have that option."
"Are you a musician too?" Tommy asked curiously, picking up on the wistfulness in Adam's voice.
"No," Adam snapped, his whole demeanor changing, becoming closed off. More closed off than it already had been. "Question and answer time is over. Now leave."
"What? No," Tommy said, even as Adam reached past him and opened the bedroom door.
"Yes," Adam said, grabbing hold of Tommy's arm and steering him out of the room.
In the hall, Tommy planted his feet and crossed his arms. "I said, no."
Adam huffed, then threw Tommy over his shoulder like the night before. Just like the night before, Tommy found himself deposited on his feet by the door a few seconds later. "I said yes," Adam said, staring Tommy down. "I answered your questions, I got the answers I wanted. This little chat is over. You're leaving now and you're not coming back."
Before Tommy could respond, Adam pulled the door open, shoved him out of it, and shut it in his face. Glaring, Tommy reached for the doorknob, but the lock clicked in place before he could open it again.
Frustrated, Tommy pounded on the door. "This isn't over! I'll be back, and you'd better let me in or I'll break a fucking window … or something."
A roar from the other side of the door that made the windows on either side rattle in their frames sent Tommy stumbling back a few steps. He almost took a backward fall down the steps but caught himself on the railing just in time. He stood there, willing the door to open, but when it didn't, he cursed, turned, and stomped down the steps, already making plans for his next visit. He wasn't through by a long shot. Adam could go fuck himself if he thought he was going to get the last word.
[Chapter 3]