One Moment in Time | Kris/Adam, PG13
(Originally posted 15th June 2009.)
Title: One Moment in Time
Author: ilytheira
Pairing: Kradam (Kris Allen/Adam Lambert)
Rating: PG13
Summary: ‘There’s a four-by-six of Kris and Adam at their opening show in Portland taped on the back of the door of their bus.’ Kris, Adam, and moments during the 2009 Idols Tour.
Notes: Hm. So I’ve come to realize that writing Kristopher comes much more easily to me than writing Adam, so the majority of this piece is written from Kris’ point of view. =D Also, this was written before Matt’s revelation of his bromance with Danny (why, Matt?). Ahem.
Disclaimer: Neither Kris nor Adam, nor any of the people or songs featured below, belong to me. :) The title is partially taken from Whitney Houston’s “One Moment in Time.” =D
All 5,020 words of this fic are dedicated to supermeklot and chosenfire28 because you girls are just so damn amazing. I don’t even have words. ♥. I’ve been planning this fic for a good two weeks now, and I planned on getting it posted some time last week, but graduation and end-of-the-year festivities took place, so I had absolutely no time to dedicate to anything else. LOL.
There’s a four-by-six of Kris and Adam at their opening show in Portland taped on the back of the door of their bus. It’s the picture that Matt points out every time everyone is gathered for lunch, the picture he never fails to describe to Scott in a thousand different ways, the picture he never fails to find something new in to point out (hey, look! The lights the stage floor Adam’s boots Kris’ jaw line).
It’s funny, actually, because it’s also the picture that Michael doesn’t bother to spend a second of his life to look at anymore. The first and only time he looked at it was the day Anoop had printed it out, and he’d turned away and gone to take a nap in his bunk. Danny had a similar reaction, but he eventually ended up leaving the bus to head on over to the girls’ because Matt wouldn’t stop talking about it; he’d even grumbled something like “That’s not right” or whatever. Matt had called out, “You’re not right!” after he’d shut the door behind him.
It’s the picture that Megan always taps whenever she comes over to the boys’ bus (well, okay, she makes an effort to point it out mainly to make fun of “Kristopher’s over-photographed plaid shirt”; Kris is totally in on the joke, though, and he even countered with, “No, that’d be the other one” once, but that’s a totally different story) and every time she says something about it, it always always always brings a smile on Adam’s face.
(Then again, it might just be the picture itself. You know - the one where Adam’s got his arm haphazardly around Kris’ shoulder when they finished the song, and Kris is looking up at him endearingly.
Yeah. Exactly. That one.)
When Adam walks onto stage mid-song at the Rose Garden, Kris’ shoulders tense and he reacts just like every other member of the audience - stunned into open-mouthed, raised-eyebrow, wide-eyed silence. His first instinct is that there’s something wrong, that something’s gone wrong backstage with Allison or Matt or Megan or someone, and although his brain urges him to keep the notes from his guitar strings floating and the lyrics from his lips overflowing, he is five seconds close to stopping. Adam seems to have noticed, because he puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, leans down, and whispers into his ear, “Nuh-uh, Kristopher, keep singing.”
So, after shivering (because, damn, Adam’s breath is warm and his voice is low and the synergy just makes the hairs on his arms stand, just draws these reactions from him), Kris continues to sing. All the tension that had gathered disappears the moment Adam’s fingers had come into contact with the fabric of his plaid shirt, and he finds the ability to breathe when Adam squeezes his shoulder and leans away. Kris allows himself tilt his head to the left, to let his eyes wander to the other singer’s face, and he sees the mischievous smile and the look in his eyes. Well, damn. He knows Adam well enough to know that the presence of both is an indication of something about to happen.
All the breaths in the venue seem to be held as he enters the next verse, and all eyes still seem to be waiting for some sort of reaction - an exclamation of surprise or anger or indignation or something - and he’s just about ready to pause and tell them that it’s absolutely nothing, that this had all been in the plan then again, he’s not sure he could come off as convincing because lying’s not his forte, he couldn’t do that, he’d probably run his mouth and say he’s just as surprised and then die-hard anti-Adams would say Adam ruined his performance, so he’s not going to go there, but Adam simply shakes his head, and Kris settles for giving the audience a smile. The smile induces a collective exhale - it does nothing to cure the stillness that has overcome the crowd, though - and Kris allows himself a lopsided grin.
He continues to sing as the warmth from Adam’s hand flows through the rest of his body. Fingers gently push against the fabric of his plaid shirt, and Kris finds himself leaning into it, into it, into it, leaning to his right and into Adam’s touch, and when he hears Adam’s voice join the music from the band, he comes to the startling realization that if it hadn’t been for Adam hurriedly entering the song, the audience would have noticed that he’d - he’d forgotten the next set of lyrics. His eyes widen for a moment and he actually is shocked into silence this time - Adam’s the one looking at him like something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong this time, his eyes are dark and his eyebrows are furrowed and his forehead is wrinkled with worry - but Kris is quick to blink himself out of his stupor.
The venue is deathly quiet and Adam’s got that shit, I fucked up look he gives Kris sparingly, has that uncomfortable look that lets Kris know he wants to get off the stage immediately (somehow, Kris doubts this, because he knows Adam’s a master of masking emotions in his eyes, a master of a variety of expressions, because he feels as if there’s definitely something more to the awkwardness plastered on Adam’s face), but this time, Kris is the one who offers a comforting smile. Hey, it’s almost like he’s saying, don’t worry about it, man, it’s - it’s cool, and the moment his message reaches Adam’s eyes, there’s a wide grin on his lips, and see? Kris knows Adam like the back of his hand. They exchange smiles, and pick up where they left off; Kris is singing, still feeling warmth from the other singer seeping onto his skin from the other singer’s fingers, and Adam harmonizes softly with him.
The cheers rise slowly. It stars from the back, way back, way back at the top of the venue, but then it sparks a wave that crashes down, down, down, until all Kris sees when he looks out at the crowd before them are blurred hands and mouths wide open, forming “Hell, yeah!” and “Kradam!” and “Oh, my God, this is actually happening!” and “Yeah!” He’s actually close to laughter now; the applause is so loud, it even begins to drown their voices out.
It’s funny, because there’s a calm that settles around Kris, dances around him, and he basks in it, bathes in it, allows himself to simply be in it. Beside him, Adam seems to have achieved the same realization as he playfully shoves Kris forward and he looks up mock-indignantly at the taller singer, who’s baring his teeth in an extremely excited grin. He snorts, and then shakes his head at the juxtaposition of their equilibrium and the crowd’s explosion into cheers. The smile on his face gets wider and wider, starts to hurt, starts to hurt like crazy as the audience begins to stand standing ovation standing ovation oh my God standing ovation and it’s an ecstatic feeling that begins to replace the calm that had begun to take up residence within him.
The feeling is hard to describe - it’s as though he’s grown wings, he’s prepared to take flight any moment, any moment, the very moment Adam’s wings sprout from his back, and it’s the craziest thought to ever enter Kristopher Neil Allen’s mind, but he doesn’t care. They enter the bridge and it’s such a beautiful harmony - Kris is turning into a fountain of clichés but he can’t bring himself to even pretend to care because it’s Adam, it’s Adam, it’s Adam, you know, Adam - and why, he asks himself, why didn’t we think of this before?
The band begins to fade away and Adam’s voice follows them, begins to run toward silence, and Kris repeats the chorus one last time before his voice, too, disappears. The lights dim and darkness encompasses them all, and there’s a silence that blankets them for a moment, a small silence, a split-second silence, because the moment the lights are on again, the Rose Garden is going mad. They go crazy when Kris feels Adam’s arms wrap themselves around him, and they go absofreakin’lutely crazy when he hugs back. When Adam lets go, smiles at Kris, bows to the audience, and then leaves him for his next song, Kris smiles and there’s the hugest grin in his life, ever, on his face. He nods, turns to the audience, and says, “Well, if that wasn’t your money’s worth, then I dunno what is.”
It takes Kris the opening notes of his fourth song to realize exactly where Adam had joined the song.
And if all the world was smiling, I would only ever want to see your frown.
- - - - -
This is probably the picture that gets to Danny the most. Adam is over on the girls’ bus helping Allison prepare an outfit for their Greensboro show, had been there for nearly half an hour, and Kris is in his bunk, legs crossed and fingers lax on the fingerboard of his guitar, when he manages to speak up about it.
“See,” he says slowly, carelessly tearing the photograph off of the door, staring at Anoop and Matt before exchanging looks with Michael, “I thought we settled this when we took off the Sacramento shot.”
“You mean, before I put it back up?” Matt bites out, and Danny frowns at him. Matt takes off his fedora and shrugs. “I don’t see your big problem with them, Danny. They’re pictures.”
“And, besides,” Anoop jumps in, “Danny, they’re best friends - I think they’d actually like to have photographs to look back on after the tour? Don’t put malice where it shouldn’t be, man, there’s nothing wrong here.”
Danny turns red and Michael scoffs like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “There’s nothing wrong?” he asks loudly, and though it’s loud enough for Matt to stand up and bang his fist against the table, eyes narrowed and lips curled in a teeth-bearing snarl, it’s also loud enough for Kris to step in from the back of the bus and poke his head into the conversation.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, raising an eyebrow, head cocked to the side. “What’s going on here?”
Before anyone has a chance to answer - Matt looks like he’s got something ruthless on his tongue; Danny looks like he doesn’t know what to say but will probably say something stupid to try and cover it up if he does say anything - Adam walks in, Allison in tow, and when she sees the photograph in Danny’s hand, she squeals, “Ohmygod! That picture’s so cute!”
The words “Don’t say that, Allie,” leave Matt’s mouth in an icy tone, and the temperature drops considerably. He grabs his fedora and places it firmly on his head. “Danny wouldn’t want you to use the Lord’s name in vain.” He walks over to Danny, takes the picture from his hands, tapes it back on the door, and leaves.
Adam frowns, before he turns to the photograph in question. It’s them - it’s him and Kris - onstage in Duluth, arms wrapped around each other like octopi not wanting to let go, and his head is buried in Kris’ hair. He rolls his eyes, stalks right past Danny, drapes an arm around Kris’ shoulder, and presses his lips against Kris’ temple.
“God, I love you,” he breathes, and Allison snickers as Kris playfully smacks him on the arm.
The Arena at Gwinnett Center explodes into ridiculous applause as Adam steps out for the second song in Kris’ set, and although the BankAtlantic Center had a higher seating capacity, the cheering here is just as loud - if not louder. For a moment, it - it actually does overwhelm him, but when he settles onto the stool that a stagehand had brought out at the very beginning of the set did they really think he was going to join Kris on a journey above mountains and hurricanes and well, damn; Adam can’t believe he’s actually going through the lyrics in his head to figure out what else to weather, there is a peace that coils itself around him.
Maybe - maybe it’s the way Kristopher lazily presses on the fingerboard, callused fingers dancing on the guitar strings and coaxing beautiful, beautiful music out of them, vibrations running through their length and music filling the air. Maybe it’s the way he leans back just so to make his guitar-playing look so casual, so carefree, so effortless. Or, you know, maybe, it might even be the way there’s a lethargic smile that decorates Kris’ lips, and that he hides his chocolate brown eyes when he closes his eyes as he reaches for the note. Whatever it is, it’s just something so very Kristopher that it makes Adam smile, makes him almost forget his purpose on stage, makes him almost forget his lyrics as he runs them through his head a final time. It unnerves him slightly when his mind draws a blank because he’s spent a good number of days learning this song, a good number of days figuring out which stanza he should jump in he’s even discussed it with Matt, for goodness’ sake, but he takes a deep breath, then dives in on the word reason.
He thinks it surprises Kris more than it surprises him that his first note is a little shaky, a little nervous, maybe a little un-Adam-esque, even, because Kris turns and gives him an incredulous look okay, okay, only he noticed, only he noticed, he doesn’t care, you shouldn’t care, nobody picked up on it, you’re just that much extra-critical on yourself. Adam bites his lip, pauses, inhales deeply, and then pushes onward. His notes are more stable in the following lyrics, more stable, more stable, much stronger, and now, he has to rein them in ever so slightly. Slowly, second by second, he raises his key as the notes coming from Kris’ guitar follow his pace.
Singing with Kris is like second nature to him now isn’t singing your second nature? or third nature, or whatever. There is a complete sense of comfort intertwined with reckless abandon and complete joy that spreads itself over him and swallows him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s absolutely soothing to know that when they’re singing together, Kris gives Adam every right to curl an arm around Kris’ waist and draw them together, gives Adam every right to let their bodies mesh together, gives Adam every right to be pleased at the wave of warmth and electricity that shoots through them every time; it certainly sent enough electricity through the FedExForum to warrant a five-minute standing ovation.
It’s completely endearing, even, when singing a duet with Kris means Kris has nothing against wearing Adam’s black True Religions from way back in ’06, has nothing against Adam standing to his left and letting his right hand wander into Kris’ right pocket, quite frankly doesn’t even have anything against fingers unashamedly tracing the trademark horseshoe design for the brand. Their back had been toward the band that day, but cameras from the side had captured it, and the next day, Little Rock went wild and Katy had called them with a “You guys get cuter and cuter with every show” that had left Kris stuttering in surprise and Adam chuckling through the night. He harbors a very deep sense of adoration and gratitude for Katy. No wife in her right mind would have agreed to enter a polyamorous relationship with someone like Adam, would have agreed to her husband entering a relationship with someone like Adam, but a voice in his head says what wife wouldn’t have agreed?
Adam pays a little closer attention to the lyrics that are coming out of his mouth, and he finds it kind of funny (and kind of sad, you know, but that’s a totally different song and he’s supposed to be focused on this one right now) the way the story Kris’ set list has been telling for how many nights now is just unraveling itself to him. Aside from their apparent lack of boundaries - because, you know, that never gets not entertaining in the most appalling of ways (okay, okay, fine, he can find it in his heart to forgive it every once in a while when Kris decides that the crowd they’re facing is lucky enough to be graced with the acoustic version) - he’d been so entranced with not messing up on Kris’ songs to ever really focus on them.
He keeps his voice soft, softer than usual, lets his throat rest from his last song’s glory note, makes sure that there’s no way in heaven, hell, or earth that his voice overpowers Kris’ in the acoustic piece, and as they enter the final few notes of the song, Adam lets the shorter singer retake full control of the song. He smiles, content content content absofuckinglutely content with everything that’s led them up to this point, up to this moment, and as Kris finishes the song and his fingers jump off of the fingerboard, Adam’s up off his stool and looking at him with an impossible amount of pride that makes his heart swell. Kris lets the sound of his laughter dance in the air between them and taps his guitar once, twice, before he sets it down on the unoccupied stool.
Adam raises an eyebrow and Kris is up on his feet now, too, and within seconds, there are arms around lower backs and shoulders, hands on napes of necks and buried in locks of hair.
It's the perfect reason to remain oblivious to the flashes of cameras.
I could stay here forever and hold you this way.
- - - -
Three months and ten days into the tour, Kris is one hundred percent certain that the audience packed tightly into the Verizon Wireless Center know what to expect when he steps onstage for the final song on Adam’s set list. He doesn’t strut like Adam does every time he walks from stage left to center stage (and Kris can even almost hear his voice, amused and mock-exasperated, as he corrects him, “Up-stage, doll, not center stage”), but it doesn’t matter because he’s got his head held high on his shoulders and he’s got the most confident smile he’s ever had on his lips.
Kris knows that there are three million things that could have gone wrong each and every time they’ve made appearances during each other’s set. He and Matt had agreed to attempt a surprise duet at least once, had attempted it when Matt busted out the piano for “A Song for You” in Hamilton when they’d agreed that Kris would appear on a song in Columbus hey, hey, hey, surprise, right?. That time, they’d managed not only to harmonize incorrectly once, they’d gone off-key together twice, the second time more noticeable than the first. Matt had gone sharp somewhere during the second stanza, and Kris remembers attempting to correct the note in his ear, attempting to sing that note without overshadowing Matt and highlighting his mistake; the second time, he’d gone flat, much flatter than he’d have liked, because Matt had reached too high for his falsetto on the bridge and had nothing to fall back on as he attempted to bring enough air in his lungs to reach for his lower register. Kris distinctly remembers raising his voice to smooth their bumpy ride, and remembers it covering their mistake his mistake, but only barely. Later that night, he and Matt had agreed that although they had tried, there was no way they could have channeled Ricky’s flawlessness, and that there was no way they were going to do that again, no matter how loudly the crowd had applauded for their valiant effort. Maybe on a collaborative piece where they’d have more time, more time, more time, but not again on tour (okay, okay, they tried again in Reading, and that went more smoothly for sure).
Danny and Michael tried it, too, and only a few stops ago in Danny’s home turf of Milwaukee. It had been a decision based on the fact that Adam’s “surprise duet” trend had become popular with the rest of the contestants: Anoop and Matt received rave reviews for “My Prerogative” in Hartford; Megan sounded devastatingly beautiful on Allison’s rendition of “Cry Baby” in Albany; Lil and Anoop had pretty convincing chemistry on “What’s Love Got to Do With It” in Cleveland. Kris didn’t want to snort out of contempt as he watched Danny and Michael discuss their “surprise” duet the final hour or so before they were due onstage and Michael was to kick off the show. Matt did, though, Matt was the one who went, “So, where’s the surprise, guys?”
Backstage had been a completely different story. He watched with eyes closed and ears open, listened as disaster by disaster began to unfurl on that stage the moment Michael walked out for the opening notes of “Jesus, Take the Wheel.” Danny had enough self-control to make sure that his melisma during the chorus didn’t overpower Michael, but that changed by the time they reached the bridge. Kris felt - Kris felt sorry for Michael now you know how I feel, don’t you? as Danny produced syllables too over-extended and released notes that were coated with his unnecessary vibrato, as Danny drowned him out mercilessly and didn’t even seem to care.
That had been the only night throughout the entire tour that he’d bothered with giving Michael a pat on the back.
Only Allison, actually, and, well, Adam have been able to excellently pull off a more recent surprise duet in Bridgeport. Matt and Scott had attempted one that same day, a Billy Joel medley that did end up being out-of-this-world amazing, but the moment Adam appeared onstage to conquer “I Love Rock and Roll” with Allison, Kris took it as his cue to leave his surprise duet with Adam for a different stop. Granted, Allison’s song choice had been predictable on her part (the only other more predictable choice was the whole of Danny’s set list, but Kris isn’t up to saying anything awful about the other singer, not when Adam’s voice is ethereal and haunting and dear God, this world has only one sweet moment set aside for us for sure, not when he’s envisioning the candles the candles the orchestra), but when Adam had waltzed up-stage to her and they played off of each other, the magic was there.
God, he’s growing into a deeper pool of cliché day by day, but when it’s applied to Adam, it seems absolutely perfect, seems perfectly tailor-made. It had been the magic that Kris and Matt had lacked, but the magic Matt and Anoop managed to bring to their performance; it had been the magic Danny and Michael lacked, but the magic Allison and Megan seemed to positively ooze the night of their performance. In fact, it’s the same magic he feels right now, right now, right now, as the music behind him fades away into nothingness, as he forgets to breathe, and then it’s just Adam a cappella - Goddamn, it’s just Adam a cappella and it’s just Adam who’s turning to him and offering a hand. Really, Kris is surprised that he’s even aware of his existence right now because everything that’s happening right now is so surreal.
He’s - he’s falling slowly defying gravity he’s flying without wings across the universe Adam is the anchor that keeps his feet on the ground and the wings that keep his heart in the clouds, Adam is his wonderwall, and now Adam’s reaching out, reaching out, reaching out, and it’s Kris who swoops in, swoops in, swoops in to close the distance between them. It’s Kris reaching up, reaching up, reaching up, it’s Kris’ voice reaching up, but it’s Adam voice that swoops down to bridge the gap between their voices and then there’s that magic again, there it goes, it’s flying around them, dancing, dancing dammit, and there are no boundaries.
The warmth of Adam’s fingers on the back of his hand is as good as any pinch. The taller singer tugs on him slightly and he looks up, somewhat startled, to bright eyes wide eyes bright smile, even as Adam disputes love and forever and existence in the same breath. It’s here that Kris remembers breath and existence and forever and love, because he sees it all in Adam’s face Adam’s smile Adam’s eyes. Kris tightens the interlocking of their fingers and smiles as he exhales, and with it, it’s happiness and relief and awe and it’s his voice with Adam’s, and well - that’s magic, plain and simple.
Between the cheering and the whistling, between the sporadic exclamations of “Holy shit!” (he has to smirk at this one, he really, really does) and “Ohmygod, Kradam!”, between the assortments of flowers and boxers and the colorful varieties in ladies’ undergarments suddenly and inconspicuously on stage, it dawns on him that Brian May must have been, like, psychic, or something, must have written this song after having seen Adam’s performance of it right here right now right this moment in some sort of dream or vision or whatever. As he allows the notes coming out of his mouth to take a back seat - because, really, what doesn’t take a back seat to Adam’s voice in this song this stage this life? - as he relishes in the heat radiating from Adam’s hand (now they’re attached at the hip and hey, now they’re facing each other and now he’s looking up to meet Adam’s eyes), he can’t ever imagine another voice touching this song. Freddie is forever the original and Kris knows that nobody can ever replace him, can ever sing this song the way he does, and Kris knows it knows it knows it. America knows that Katharine had tried, that Kady had tried, but hell if America doesn’t know that Adam’s come closest, that Adam’s come closer than anybody ever will.
Their venue is encased in the perfect atmosphere, encased in the quiet that has spread from each corner, thousands of eyes locked in their hands, transfixed on their hands, eyes immobile and unblinking and so shameless in their unabashed fascination with the way Adam’s voice is performing floor routines worth ten, ten, ten, ten, ten straight across the board and damn, that is how you stick it in a gymnastics routine as he nails the note nails it nails it, Adam is the freakin’ love-child of vocal gymnastics’ finest, fascination with the way their fingers are intertwined and the way Adam is smiling at him and looking at him as though they’re about to enter a dance.
Adam enters his falsetto and Kris begins questioning their audience’s desire for eternal life in a lower key, harmonizing the proper way, the proper way, he doesn’t mean to dis Matt but he knows this is the proper way, feels this is the proper way. Adam is gently swinging his hand, is proceeding to gently untangle their fingers and now he’s pressing his palm against Kris’. He knows they must look like a scene out of some chick flick (hey, he’d pay big money to watch a chick flick like this), and then slowly, slowly, slowly, his fingers descend and rest in the spaces between Adam’s fingers, and Adam tugs on him-
It’s Kris who’s looking down and up and away and looking at Adam, and it’s Adam who tips his head and laughs, shattering all validities and justifications of anything not in support of love and forever and a forever love, shatters the concept of only one sweet moment of only one of only one, because dammit, there’s more than one, there’s more, and it’s Adam who leans his forehead against Kris’ as the song ends, and damn, damn, damn, Kris wants to live forever, Kris wants to live forever-
Kris wants to live forever and when he leans away from Adam, actually has it in him to allow a hair’s width of space between them, when Adam smiles at him and he smiles at Adam and Adam is bridging the gap between their lips, when all that he can see anywhere is joy happiness elation satisfaction, when mortality and all its beginnings and endings are left in fragments and forever is Adam’s kiss Adam’s kiss Adam’s kiss, he knows he’ll be living forever, be living forever, be living forever every day.
He knows that they can have forever.
Forever is our today.
(Allison doesn’t have a shot of that yet. But she’s getting there.)
The songs in order were: “So Beautiful,” Darren Hayes; “Better Man,” James Morrison; and “Who Wants to Live Forever,” Queen.
Fun fact-songs I’d planned on using and wrote a little ‘snapshot’ moment for but ended up being cut because I couldn’t properly write the duet scene for: “Crazy,” Gnarls Barkley (A); “Come On Get Higher,” Matt Nathanson (K); and “Wicked Game,” Chris Isaak (A).
Title: One Moment in Time
Author: ilytheira
Pairing: Kradam (Kris Allen/Adam Lambert)
Rating: PG13
Summary: ‘There’s a four-by-six of Kris and Adam at their opening show in Portland taped on the back of the door of their bus.’ Kris, Adam, and moments during the 2009 Idols Tour.
Notes: Hm. So I’ve come to realize that writing Kristopher comes much more easily to me than writing Adam, so the majority of this piece is written from Kris’ point of view. =D Also, this was written before Matt’s revelation of his bromance with Danny (why, Matt?). Ahem.
Disclaimer: Neither Kris nor Adam, nor any of the people or songs featured below, belong to me. :) The title is partially taken from Whitney Houston’s “One Moment in Time.” =D
All 5,020 words of this fic are dedicated to supermeklot and chosenfire28 because you girls are just so damn amazing. I don’t even have words. ♥. I’ve been planning this fic for a good two weeks now, and I planned on getting it posted some time last week, but graduation and end-of-the-year festivities took place, so I had absolutely no time to dedicate to anything else. LOL.
There’s a four-by-six of Kris and Adam at their opening show in Portland taped on the back of the door of their bus. It’s the picture that Matt points out every time everyone is gathered for lunch, the picture he never fails to describe to Scott in a thousand different ways, the picture he never fails to find something new in to point out (hey, look! The lights the stage floor Adam’s boots Kris’ jaw line).
It’s funny, actually, because it’s also the picture that Michael doesn’t bother to spend a second of his life to look at anymore. The first and only time he looked at it was the day Anoop had printed it out, and he’d turned away and gone to take a nap in his bunk. Danny had a similar reaction, but he eventually ended up leaving the bus to head on over to the girls’ because Matt wouldn’t stop talking about it; he’d even grumbled something like “That’s not right” or whatever. Matt had called out, “You’re not right!” after he’d shut the door behind him.
It’s the picture that Megan always taps whenever she comes over to the boys’ bus (well, okay, she makes an effort to point it out mainly to make fun of “Kristopher’s over-photographed plaid shirt”; Kris is totally in on the joke, though, and he even countered with, “No, that’d be the other one” once, but that’s a totally different story) and every time she says something about it, it always always always brings a smile on Adam’s face.
(Then again, it might just be the picture itself. You know - the one where Adam’s got his arm haphazardly around Kris’ shoulder when they finished the song, and Kris is looking up at him endearingly.
Yeah. Exactly. That one.)
When Adam walks onto stage mid-song at the Rose Garden, Kris’ shoulders tense and he reacts just like every other member of the audience - stunned into open-mouthed, raised-eyebrow, wide-eyed silence. His first instinct is that there’s something wrong, that something’s gone wrong backstage with Allison or Matt or Megan or someone, and although his brain urges him to keep the notes from his guitar strings floating and the lyrics from his lips overflowing, he is five seconds close to stopping. Adam seems to have noticed, because he puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, leans down, and whispers into his ear, “Nuh-uh, Kristopher, keep singing.”
So, after shivering (because, damn, Adam’s breath is warm and his voice is low and the synergy just makes the hairs on his arms stand, just draws these reactions from him), Kris continues to sing. All the tension that had gathered disappears the moment Adam’s fingers had come into contact with the fabric of his plaid shirt, and he finds the ability to breathe when Adam squeezes his shoulder and leans away. Kris allows himself tilt his head to the left, to let his eyes wander to the other singer’s face, and he sees the mischievous smile and the look in his eyes. Well, damn. He knows Adam well enough to know that the presence of both is an indication of something about to happen.
All the breaths in the venue seem to be held as he enters the next verse, and all eyes still seem to be waiting for some sort of reaction - an exclamation of surprise or anger or indignation or something - and he’s just about ready to pause and tell them that it’s absolutely nothing, that this had all been in the plan then again, he’s not sure he could come off as convincing because lying’s not his forte, he couldn’t do that, he’d probably run his mouth and say he’s just as surprised and then die-hard anti-Adams would say Adam ruined his performance, so he’s not going to go there, but Adam simply shakes his head, and Kris settles for giving the audience a smile. The smile induces a collective exhale - it does nothing to cure the stillness that has overcome the crowd, though - and Kris allows himself a lopsided grin.
He continues to sing as the warmth from Adam’s hand flows through the rest of his body. Fingers gently push against the fabric of his plaid shirt, and Kris finds himself leaning into it, into it, into it, leaning to his right and into Adam’s touch, and when he hears Adam’s voice join the music from the band, he comes to the startling realization that if it hadn’t been for Adam hurriedly entering the song, the audience would have noticed that he’d - he’d forgotten the next set of lyrics. His eyes widen for a moment and he actually is shocked into silence this time - Adam’s the one looking at him like something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong this time, his eyes are dark and his eyebrows are furrowed and his forehead is wrinkled with worry - but Kris is quick to blink himself out of his stupor.
The venue is deathly quiet and Adam’s got that shit, I fucked up look he gives Kris sparingly, has that uncomfortable look that lets Kris know he wants to get off the stage immediately (somehow, Kris doubts this, because he knows Adam’s a master of masking emotions in his eyes, a master of a variety of expressions, because he feels as if there’s definitely something more to the awkwardness plastered on Adam’s face), but this time, Kris is the one who offers a comforting smile. Hey, it’s almost like he’s saying, don’t worry about it, man, it’s - it’s cool, and the moment his message reaches Adam’s eyes, there’s a wide grin on his lips, and see? Kris knows Adam like the back of his hand. They exchange smiles, and pick up where they left off; Kris is singing, still feeling warmth from the other singer seeping onto his skin from the other singer’s fingers, and Adam harmonizes softly with him.
The cheers rise slowly. It stars from the back, way back, way back at the top of the venue, but then it sparks a wave that crashes down, down, down, until all Kris sees when he looks out at the crowd before them are blurred hands and mouths wide open, forming “Hell, yeah!” and “Kradam!” and “Oh, my God, this is actually happening!” and “Yeah!” He’s actually close to laughter now; the applause is so loud, it even begins to drown their voices out.
It’s funny, because there’s a calm that settles around Kris, dances around him, and he basks in it, bathes in it, allows himself to simply be in it. Beside him, Adam seems to have achieved the same realization as he playfully shoves Kris forward and he looks up mock-indignantly at the taller singer, who’s baring his teeth in an extremely excited grin. He snorts, and then shakes his head at the juxtaposition of their equilibrium and the crowd’s explosion into cheers. The smile on his face gets wider and wider, starts to hurt, starts to hurt like crazy as the audience begins to stand standing ovation standing ovation oh my God standing ovation and it’s an ecstatic feeling that begins to replace the calm that had begun to take up residence within him.
The feeling is hard to describe - it’s as though he’s grown wings, he’s prepared to take flight any moment, any moment, the very moment Adam’s wings sprout from his back, and it’s the craziest thought to ever enter Kristopher Neil Allen’s mind, but he doesn’t care. They enter the bridge and it’s such a beautiful harmony - Kris is turning into a fountain of clichés but he can’t bring himself to even pretend to care because it’s Adam, it’s Adam, it’s Adam, you know, Adam - and why, he asks himself, why didn’t we think of this before?
The band begins to fade away and Adam’s voice follows them, begins to run toward silence, and Kris repeats the chorus one last time before his voice, too, disappears. The lights dim and darkness encompasses them all, and there’s a silence that blankets them for a moment, a small silence, a split-second silence, because the moment the lights are on again, the Rose Garden is going mad. They go crazy when Kris feels Adam’s arms wrap themselves around him, and they go absofreakin’lutely crazy when he hugs back. When Adam lets go, smiles at Kris, bows to the audience, and then leaves him for his next song, Kris smiles and there’s the hugest grin in his life, ever, on his face. He nods, turns to the audience, and says, “Well, if that wasn’t your money’s worth, then I dunno what is.”
It takes Kris the opening notes of his fourth song to realize exactly where Adam had joined the song.
And if all the world was smiling, I would only ever want to see your frown.
- - - - -
This is probably the picture that gets to Danny the most. Adam is over on the girls’ bus helping Allison prepare an outfit for their Greensboro show, had been there for nearly half an hour, and Kris is in his bunk, legs crossed and fingers lax on the fingerboard of his guitar, when he manages to speak up about it.
“See,” he says slowly, carelessly tearing the photograph off of the door, staring at Anoop and Matt before exchanging looks with Michael, “I thought we settled this when we took off the Sacramento shot.”
“You mean, before I put it back up?” Matt bites out, and Danny frowns at him. Matt takes off his fedora and shrugs. “I don’t see your big problem with them, Danny. They’re pictures.”
“And, besides,” Anoop jumps in, “Danny, they’re best friends - I think they’d actually like to have photographs to look back on after the tour? Don’t put malice where it shouldn’t be, man, there’s nothing wrong here.”
Danny turns red and Michael scoffs like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “There’s nothing wrong?” he asks loudly, and though it’s loud enough for Matt to stand up and bang his fist against the table, eyes narrowed and lips curled in a teeth-bearing snarl, it’s also loud enough for Kris to step in from the back of the bus and poke his head into the conversation.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, raising an eyebrow, head cocked to the side. “What’s going on here?”
Before anyone has a chance to answer - Matt looks like he’s got something ruthless on his tongue; Danny looks like he doesn’t know what to say but will probably say something stupid to try and cover it up if he does say anything - Adam walks in, Allison in tow, and when she sees the photograph in Danny’s hand, she squeals, “Ohmygod! That picture’s so cute!”
The words “Don’t say that, Allie,” leave Matt’s mouth in an icy tone, and the temperature drops considerably. He grabs his fedora and places it firmly on his head. “Danny wouldn’t want you to use the Lord’s name in vain.” He walks over to Danny, takes the picture from his hands, tapes it back on the door, and leaves.
Adam frowns, before he turns to the photograph in question. It’s them - it’s him and Kris - onstage in Duluth, arms wrapped around each other like octopi not wanting to let go, and his head is buried in Kris’ hair. He rolls his eyes, stalks right past Danny, drapes an arm around Kris’ shoulder, and presses his lips against Kris’ temple.
“God, I love you,” he breathes, and Allison snickers as Kris playfully smacks him on the arm.
The Arena at Gwinnett Center explodes into ridiculous applause as Adam steps out for the second song in Kris’ set, and although the BankAtlantic Center had a higher seating capacity, the cheering here is just as loud - if not louder. For a moment, it - it actually does overwhelm him, but when he settles onto the stool that a stagehand had brought out at the very beginning of the set did they really think he was going to join Kris on a journey above mountains and hurricanes and well, damn; Adam can’t believe he’s actually going through the lyrics in his head to figure out what else to weather, there is a peace that coils itself around him.
Maybe - maybe it’s the way Kristopher lazily presses on the fingerboard, callused fingers dancing on the guitar strings and coaxing beautiful, beautiful music out of them, vibrations running through their length and music filling the air. Maybe it’s the way he leans back just so to make his guitar-playing look so casual, so carefree, so effortless. Or, you know, maybe, it might even be the way there’s a lethargic smile that decorates Kris’ lips, and that he hides his chocolate brown eyes when he closes his eyes as he reaches for the note. Whatever it is, it’s just something so very Kristopher that it makes Adam smile, makes him almost forget his purpose on stage, makes him almost forget his lyrics as he runs them through his head a final time. It unnerves him slightly when his mind draws a blank because he’s spent a good number of days learning this song, a good number of days figuring out which stanza he should jump in he’s even discussed it with Matt, for goodness’ sake, but he takes a deep breath, then dives in on the word reason.
He thinks it surprises Kris more than it surprises him that his first note is a little shaky, a little nervous, maybe a little un-Adam-esque, even, because Kris turns and gives him an incredulous look okay, okay, only he noticed, only he noticed, he doesn’t care, you shouldn’t care, nobody picked up on it, you’re just that much extra-critical on yourself. Adam bites his lip, pauses, inhales deeply, and then pushes onward. His notes are more stable in the following lyrics, more stable, more stable, much stronger, and now, he has to rein them in ever so slightly. Slowly, second by second, he raises his key as the notes coming from Kris’ guitar follow his pace.
Singing with Kris is like second nature to him now isn’t singing your second nature? or third nature, or whatever. There is a complete sense of comfort intertwined with reckless abandon and complete joy that spreads itself over him and swallows him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s absolutely soothing to know that when they’re singing together, Kris gives Adam every right to curl an arm around Kris’ waist and draw them together, gives Adam every right to let their bodies mesh together, gives Adam every right to be pleased at the wave of warmth and electricity that shoots through them every time; it certainly sent enough electricity through the FedExForum to warrant a five-minute standing ovation.
It’s completely endearing, even, when singing a duet with Kris means Kris has nothing against wearing Adam’s black True Religions from way back in ’06, has nothing against Adam standing to his left and letting his right hand wander into Kris’ right pocket, quite frankly doesn’t even have anything against fingers unashamedly tracing the trademark horseshoe design for the brand. Their back had been toward the band that day, but cameras from the side had captured it, and the next day, Little Rock went wild and Katy had called them with a “You guys get cuter and cuter with every show” that had left Kris stuttering in surprise and Adam chuckling through the night. He harbors a very deep sense of adoration and gratitude for Katy. No wife in her right mind would have agreed to enter a polyamorous relationship with someone like Adam, would have agreed to her husband entering a relationship with someone like Adam, but a voice in his head says what wife wouldn’t have agreed?
Adam pays a little closer attention to the lyrics that are coming out of his mouth, and he finds it kind of funny (and kind of sad, you know, but that’s a totally different song and he’s supposed to be focused on this one right now) the way the story Kris’ set list has been telling for how many nights now is just unraveling itself to him. Aside from their apparent lack of boundaries - because, you know, that never gets not entertaining in the most appalling of ways (okay, okay, fine, he can find it in his heart to forgive it every once in a while when Kris decides that the crowd they’re facing is lucky enough to be graced with the acoustic version) - he’d been so entranced with not messing up on Kris’ songs to ever really focus on them.
He keeps his voice soft, softer than usual, lets his throat rest from his last song’s glory note, makes sure that there’s no way in heaven, hell, or earth that his voice overpowers Kris’ in the acoustic piece, and as they enter the final few notes of the song, Adam lets the shorter singer retake full control of the song. He smiles, content content content absofuckinglutely content with everything that’s led them up to this point, up to this moment, and as Kris finishes the song and his fingers jump off of the fingerboard, Adam’s up off his stool and looking at him with an impossible amount of pride that makes his heart swell. Kris lets the sound of his laughter dance in the air between them and taps his guitar once, twice, before he sets it down on the unoccupied stool.
Adam raises an eyebrow and Kris is up on his feet now, too, and within seconds, there are arms around lower backs and shoulders, hands on napes of necks and buried in locks of hair.
It's the perfect reason to remain oblivious to the flashes of cameras.
I could stay here forever and hold you this way.
- - - -
Three months and ten days into the tour, Kris is one hundred percent certain that the audience packed tightly into the Verizon Wireless Center know what to expect when he steps onstage for the final song on Adam’s set list. He doesn’t strut like Adam does every time he walks from stage left to center stage (and Kris can even almost hear his voice, amused and mock-exasperated, as he corrects him, “Up-stage, doll, not center stage”), but it doesn’t matter because he’s got his head held high on his shoulders and he’s got the most confident smile he’s ever had on his lips.
Kris knows that there are three million things that could have gone wrong each and every time they’ve made appearances during each other’s set. He and Matt had agreed to attempt a surprise duet at least once, had attempted it when Matt busted out the piano for “A Song for You” in Hamilton when they’d agreed that Kris would appear on a song in Columbus hey, hey, hey, surprise, right?. That time, they’d managed not only to harmonize incorrectly once, they’d gone off-key together twice, the second time more noticeable than the first. Matt had gone sharp somewhere during the second stanza, and Kris remembers attempting to correct the note in his ear, attempting to sing that note without overshadowing Matt and highlighting his mistake; the second time, he’d gone flat, much flatter than he’d have liked, because Matt had reached too high for his falsetto on the bridge and had nothing to fall back on as he attempted to bring enough air in his lungs to reach for his lower register. Kris distinctly remembers raising his voice to smooth their bumpy ride, and remembers it covering their mistake his mistake, but only barely. Later that night, he and Matt had agreed that although they had tried, there was no way they could have channeled Ricky’s flawlessness, and that there was no way they were going to do that again, no matter how loudly the crowd had applauded for their valiant effort. Maybe on a collaborative piece where they’d have more time, more time, more time, but not again on tour (okay, okay, they tried again in Reading, and that went more smoothly for sure).
Danny and Michael tried it, too, and only a few stops ago in Danny’s home turf of Milwaukee. It had been a decision based on the fact that Adam’s “surprise duet” trend had become popular with the rest of the contestants: Anoop and Matt received rave reviews for “My Prerogative” in Hartford; Megan sounded devastatingly beautiful on Allison’s rendition of “Cry Baby” in Albany; Lil and Anoop had pretty convincing chemistry on “What’s Love Got to Do With It” in Cleveland. Kris didn’t want to snort out of contempt as he watched Danny and Michael discuss their “surprise” duet the final hour or so before they were due onstage and Michael was to kick off the show. Matt did, though, Matt was the one who went, “So, where’s the surprise, guys?”
Backstage had been a completely different story. He watched with eyes closed and ears open, listened as disaster by disaster began to unfurl on that stage the moment Michael walked out for the opening notes of “Jesus, Take the Wheel.” Danny had enough self-control to make sure that his melisma during the chorus didn’t overpower Michael, but that changed by the time they reached the bridge. Kris felt - Kris felt sorry for Michael now you know how I feel, don’t you? as Danny produced syllables too over-extended and released notes that were coated with his unnecessary vibrato, as Danny drowned him out mercilessly and didn’t even seem to care.
That had been the only night throughout the entire tour that he’d bothered with giving Michael a pat on the back.
Only Allison, actually, and, well, Adam have been able to excellently pull off a more recent surprise duet in Bridgeport. Matt and Scott had attempted one that same day, a Billy Joel medley that did end up being out-of-this-world amazing, but the moment Adam appeared onstage to conquer “I Love Rock and Roll” with Allison, Kris took it as his cue to leave his surprise duet with Adam for a different stop. Granted, Allison’s song choice had been predictable on her part (the only other more predictable choice was the whole of Danny’s set list, but Kris isn’t up to saying anything awful about the other singer, not when Adam’s voice is ethereal and haunting and dear God, this world has only one sweet moment set aside for us for sure, not when he’s envisioning the candles the candles the orchestra), but when Adam had waltzed up-stage to her and they played off of each other, the magic was there.
God, he’s growing into a deeper pool of cliché day by day, but when it’s applied to Adam, it seems absolutely perfect, seems perfectly tailor-made. It had been the magic that Kris and Matt had lacked, but the magic Matt and Anoop managed to bring to their performance; it had been the magic Danny and Michael lacked, but the magic Allison and Megan seemed to positively ooze the night of their performance. In fact, it’s the same magic he feels right now, right now, right now, as the music behind him fades away into nothingness, as he forgets to breathe, and then it’s just Adam a cappella - Goddamn, it’s just Adam a cappella and it’s just Adam who’s turning to him and offering a hand. Really, Kris is surprised that he’s even aware of his existence right now because everything that’s happening right now is so surreal.
He’s - he’s falling slowly defying gravity he’s flying without wings across the universe Adam is the anchor that keeps his feet on the ground and the wings that keep his heart in the clouds, Adam is his wonderwall, and now Adam’s reaching out, reaching out, reaching out, and it’s Kris who swoops in, swoops in, swoops in to close the distance between them. It’s Kris reaching up, reaching up, reaching up, it’s Kris’ voice reaching up, but it’s Adam voice that swoops down to bridge the gap between their voices and then there’s that magic again, there it goes, it’s flying around them, dancing, dancing dammit, and there are no boundaries.
The warmth of Adam’s fingers on the back of his hand is as good as any pinch. The taller singer tugs on him slightly and he looks up, somewhat startled, to bright eyes wide eyes bright smile, even as Adam disputes love and forever and existence in the same breath. It’s here that Kris remembers breath and existence and forever and love, because he sees it all in Adam’s face Adam’s smile Adam’s eyes. Kris tightens the interlocking of their fingers and smiles as he exhales, and with it, it’s happiness and relief and awe and it’s his voice with Adam’s, and well - that’s magic, plain and simple.
Between the cheering and the whistling, between the sporadic exclamations of “Holy shit!” (he has to smirk at this one, he really, really does) and “Ohmygod, Kradam!”, between the assortments of flowers and boxers and the colorful varieties in ladies’ undergarments suddenly and inconspicuously on stage, it dawns on him that Brian May must have been, like, psychic, or something, must have written this song after having seen Adam’s performance of it right here right now right this moment in some sort of dream or vision or whatever. As he allows the notes coming out of his mouth to take a back seat - because, really, what doesn’t take a back seat to Adam’s voice in this song this stage this life? - as he relishes in the heat radiating from Adam’s hand (now they’re attached at the hip and hey, now they’re facing each other and now he’s looking up to meet Adam’s eyes), he can’t ever imagine another voice touching this song. Freddie is forever the original and Kris knows that nobody can ever replace him, can ever sing this song the way he does, and Kris knows it knows it knows it. America knows that Katharine had tried, that Kady had tried, but hell if America doesn’t know that Adam’s come closest, that Adam’s come closer than anybody ever will.
Their venue is encased in the perfect atmosphere, encased in the quiet that has spread from each corner, thousands of eyes locked in their hands, transfixed on their hands, eyes immobile and unblinking and so shameless in their unabashed fascination with the way Adam’s voice is performing floor routines worth ten, ten, ten, ten, ten straight across the board and damn, that is how you stick it in a gymnastics routine as he nails the note nails it nails it, Adam is the freakin’ love-child of vocal gymnastics’ finest, fascination with the way their fingers are intertwined and the way Adam is smiling at him and looking at him as though they’re about to enter a dance.
Adam enters his falsetto and Kris begins questioning their audience’s desire for eternal life in a lower key, harmonizing the proper way, the proper way, he doesn’t mean to dis Matt but he knows this is the proper way, feels this is the proper way. Adam is gently swinging his hand, is proceeding to gently untangle their fingers and now he’s pressing his palm against Kris’. He knows they must look like a scene out of some chick flick (hey, he’d pay big money to watch a chick flick like this), and then slowly, slowly, slowly, his fingers descend and rest in the spaces between Adam’s fingers, and Adam tugs on him-
It’s Kris who’s looking down and up and away and looking at Adam, and it’s Adam who tips his head and laughs, shattering all validities and justifications of anything not in support of love and forever and a forever love, shatters the concept of only one sweet moment of only one of only one, because dammit, there’s more than one, there’s more, and it’s Adam who leans his forehead against Kris’ as the song ends, and damn, damn, damn, Kris wants to live forever, Kris wants to live forever-
Kris wants to live forever and when he leans away from Adam, actually has it in him to allow a hair’s width of space between them, when Adam smiles at him and he smiles at Adam and Adam is bridging the gap between their lips, when all that he can see anywhere is joy happiness elation satisfaction, when mortality and all its beginnings and endings are left in fragments and forever is Adam’s kiss Adam’s kiss Adam’s kiss, he knows he’ll be living forever, be living forever, be living forever every day.
He knows that they can have forever.
Forever is our today.
(Allison doesn’t have a shot of that yet. But she’s getting there.)
The songs in order were: “So Beautiful,” Darren Hayes; “Better Man,” James Morrison; and “Who Wants to Live Forever,” Queen.
Fun fact-songs I’d planned on using and wrote a little ‘snapshot’ moment for but ended up being cut because I couldn’t properly write the duet scene for: “Crazy,” Gnarls Barkley (A); “Come On Get Higher,” Matt Nathanson (K); and “Wicked Game,” Chris Isaak (A).