A Place For Everything, Everything in Its Place
Title: A Place For Everything, Everything In Its Place
Fandom: Adam Lambert
Pairing: Adam/Brad, Adam/Sauli
Author: i_amthecosmos
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,020
Prompt: From glam_kink: Adam has a moderate case of OCD. He does fine in the real world, as long as he knows that everything is in its place.
Disclaimer: This was made up for mine and other’s amusement. I make no profit from this fan fiction, and I do not wish it to be Tweeted to anyone portrayed. Thank you.
“It’s sweet how you always fold the laundry.” Adam didn’t look at Brad, he had to make sure he got this right. He didn’t have any more quarters, so he had to fold it right the first time. Taking it back to the laundry and getting it dried again just led to uncomfortable questions. He carefully made sure that all the corners were straight and that there was no overlap. He stacked the towels, then started on his t-shirts, the blue ones first, then the greens. By the time he had finished with the socks, Brad was frowning. “Honey, I love that you do it, but I could do it faster.”
Adam started carefully putting their clothes in place, one item at a time. “But I like to do it.” Brad didn’t say anything, and Adam looked for the place in his dresser where he kept his special shirt. It was good luck, so it had its own place in his drawer, and nothing could go on top of it. “It’s not that you do it badly,” he said, even though he privately thought that Brad did. “But I have to make sure it’s right.”
*
Adam had a lot of rituals, and he never understood the way some people reacted to them. What was wrong with them? Didn’t they understand that the books on the coffee table had to be arranged the right way? One time he caught a friend of his reading one and putting it next to the stack instead of back in the middle, and he couldn’t wait for everyone to leave so he could fix the books. Brad looked at him, frowning, but Adam didn’t know why. Then he took Adam’s hand. “I think we need to have a talk.”
“Honey…why do the books have to be three in a stack, and at a ninety degree angle? Is there a reason for this?” Adam blinked-he thought Brad understood. “And…you have to do everything at the same time in the morning, even if we’re running late, and the clothes folding-why is it important?”
“Um, because it is?” Adam didn’t know what to say. “I mean, it has to be right. If it’s wrong, it’s going to bother me until it’s right. I can’t help it.” Adam slid closer to Brad. “I’m sorry, but I get upset if it isn’t. It’s really scary if things aren’t in place.”
“You know there’s a term for that,” Brad said. “I thought at first you were just being quirky, but you…that’s kind of past a cute eccentricity.” Brad hugged him. “I don’t know what we should do about it.”
“I don’t want to do anything-“
“You ruined the party because you couldn’t stop pacing in front of the coffee table. Maybe you could try meditating?” Adam nodded, because he just wanted the conversation over with. Really, it wasn’t that big of a deal. He just needed things to be where they needed to be. He didn’t need to get all Zen.
*
Adam was counting the stairs as he went to his apartment. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one. Twenty-one isn’t lucky. Why isn’t it a good number? I might have to leave this place. He let himself in and then sang the first verse of “Let the Sunshine In” under his breath. With the bad luck gone, now he could get started on his night. It was quiet and lonely without Brad, and maybe that’s why he kept seeing bad luck everywhere. But it was okay. He knew what to do.
*
A couple of years later, he was in the Idol mansion, sorting his makeup products into groups of three when Kris caught him. “Um, dude? What are you doing? Is this why you take so long in the bathroom?” Adam glared at him.
“You have a lucky guitar, shirt, and shoes. What’s the difference?”
Kris ratted on him, the little fucker. One if the producers came up with her concerned face on. “Kris tells me you have a lot of little…quirks,” she said. “Have you been counting things and putting your stuff up the same way for a long time?”
“Of course,” Adam said. “I mean, I perform just fine, so I don’t see why it’s anyone’s business. I can do anything on stage, I just need…”
“You need to spend thirty minutes folding your clothes,” the producer said. “We’ve got a lot of footage of you we had to edit out, because honestly it just looks odd. Adam, you’re the most talented person I’ve seen on this stage. But maybe…”
“Maybe what?” He didn’t like this conversation.
“Maybe you should see a doctor before you go on the Idol tour.”
*
Adam glared at the shrink that his record label had picked out for him. “I still don’t see why it’s such a problem. I don’t do any of this stuff onstage.”
“But you have several people who will be sharing a bus with you. You have to consider that. None of them are as experienced at touring as you are, and they might not think you having to rattle off three song titles beginning with ‘A’ every time you climb the bus steps is funny.” The doctor took out a pad and wrote on it. “You have a case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder that’s getting worse. I’m going to start you out on a low dose of Celexa and we’ll see how that works. I want you to call me if you’re having any trouble with side effects.”
Adam stared at the prescription. “I don’t want to take them.”
“It’ll be best for you in the long run. You don’t want this to overtake you until you can’t perform. And from what you’ve said, it interferes with your personal life. I recommend the medication and maybe some therapy. I can schedule you a session with a counselor as well. She does very good work with her OCD patients.” Adam shook his head. “Okay. The medication should help anyway. Thank you for stopping by.”
Adam almost said It wasn’t my idea, but he was busy counting the steps from his chair to the door.
*
It took Adam a few weeks to notice it, but he wasn’t counting his steps anymore. He still folded his clothes, but it didn’t take as long as it did before. When he threw a clean towel over the couch on the bus, he actually had to stop for a minute and stare.
Kris and Allison knew about the medication and his label’s insistence on it. He complained about it, but he noticed he was getting other things done, that he wasn’t as tired by the end of the night. He felt more relaxed too, and eventually, he got used to it. When he left Idol and became a star on his own, most of his quirks were gone.
*
“Hey honey.” Brad called him one night. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m tired,” he answered back. “The tour’s taking a lot out of me. And I have to keep getting my medication refilled, and it’s hard to do from the road.”
“How long have you been taking that now?” Brad always wanted to know about that, and Adam wasn’t sure why. “Does it still help you?”
“I still have to do things,” Adam said. “I have to light the same kind of candle in a new hotel room before I can relax. I have to pack my clothes in the right order, but I don’t need to fold them perfectly anymore.”
“I’m glad,” Brad said. “But…I wish you could have taken care of it without medication, with me. You know how I feel about medicating away anxiety. I think people can learn to accept it. Why don’t you try going to therapy?”
“I didn’t even think anything was wrong until they forced me to see the doctor, what makes you think I’d listen to a therapist?” Adam paused for a moment. “But yeah, I know you’re all about people taking control of their lives. And I like to think that I do. But...it helps.”
“Well, you do have a busy schedule, so I guess yoga for an hour is out,” Brad said. “But…don’t forget yourself. You’re not just a bunch of symptoms that needs to be controlled, honey.” Adam smiled at the ‘honey’, even if it made his heart twist just a little bit.
‘I know. Sometimes it feels like it. But mostly…I’m okay. It’s like I have more mental space. I can think about other things.” Adam had plenty of time now to think about how lonely he was, but he didn’t say that to Brad. It would make things awkward.
*
“Um, dude,” Tommy said one day. “Why are you re-arranging Sutan’s makeup bag? He’ll kill you.” Adam stared-he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “I mean,” Tommy continued, “You are kinda a freak about placement and shit, but you shouldn’t do that to someone who’s also a freak about it.”
Adam stared at the little groups he had made in Sutan’s makeup kit. He had to take a couple of deep breaths. My meds aren’t working anymore, he thought to himself. Shit. Now I have to call the doctor again.
*
“Well, we can put you on a higher dose,” the doctor said. “Or we can switch you to another SSRI. There are other medications available-low doses of Risperidone can work. It’s normally given to bipolar patients, but…”
“I’m not crazy,” Adam said, curling his hand into a fist. “I’m not.”
“Adam,” he said. “You have a recognized anxiety disorder. No, it’s not as severe as bipolar or other illnesses of the mind, but it’s a serious problem. I’m recommending you for a change in medication, and when you get back home, I’m scheduling you with a therapist. You need to learn to control it.”
“It doesn’t go away, does it?” Adam bit his lip. “Shit.”
“No, it doesn’t,” the doctor said. “But we can treat it.”
When Adam hung up, a prescription for Risperidone filled for him, he felt isolated from other people. Nobody else he knew went through this shit.
“I highly doubt that dude,” Tommy said, taking another sip of his drink. “I mean, I have panic attacks and I don’t have insurance except on tour. Anxiety problems are all over the place. It doesn’t make you crazy, not really, but you need to take care of it. It’s like having any other illness, you know?” Adam shook his head and Tommy sighed. “Trust me. It’ll be okay.”
*
Adam hated his fucking medication. The new one gave him joint pain when he first woke up, and it made him sleepy. The pain cleared up after a few days, but he still felt tired. He was glad the tour was over and he could rest more, but he had things he wanted to do. Like seeing that sweet Finnish boy he met on the European tour.
He sighed and sent him a text message. Miss you. Come and see me.
After a few minutes, he got a text back. I’ll be there soon.
Adam curled up on his hotel bed, candle burning on the side table across the room. He didn’t know if it would be soon enough.
*
Adam struggled over the lyrics he was trying to write. He didn’t know how-his brain was tired and his thoughts were jumbled and he couldn’t make sense of them. He’d been having this problem for weeks, and he called Sauli over. “I can’t write.”
Sauli looked at the crossed out lyrics and random words and frowned. “You are practicing?”
“No, I’m supposed to have lyrics ready by tomorrow, and I can’t…I can’t think straight.” Sauli looked mildly confused, and Adam explained. “My thoughts-I can’t keep them on the lyrics. And I’m tired. My pills make me tired.”
“You should call,” he said. “The doctor will know what to do. And you should see her.” Sauli knew that Adam tried to miss his appointments with the therapist.
“It won’t help me now,” Adam said. “I think I’ll just stop taking them.” Sauli put a hand on his shoulder.
“That’s...not a good idea.” Sauli rubbed his shoulders, and Adam’s head dropped forward. He let Sauli relax him, and when he was done, he tried to focus back on his lyrics.
He was up all night, working on them, and when he got to the studio, they were still only half-done. “What’s wrong, do you need more time?” Adam nodded. “Well, we’re already taking a lot of time on this record, we can get someone to write with you, anyone you want.” Adam shook his head.
“But, this song is important to me. I want it to really be mine.” Maybe writing about Sauli was too difficult, too close to his real life. But he was getting spacey in all areas of his life, so that couldn’t be it. No, something was wrong.
*
“I don’t think this medication is fucking working,” he said to Melissa, the therapist he’d been dodging. “I’m tired, and I can’t think straight enough to finish these lyrics-about my boyfriend. Why can’t I finish that? I love him and I need to get it right!”
She sat forward in her chair a bit. “It sounds like the fatigue side effects are interfering with your creativity.” Adam had to bite back the no shit. “Maybe we can try you on something else, maybe another SSRI, but that’s for your doctor to decide. I’m going to give you some exercises to do. Do you meditate at all?” That made him laugh, and she smiled at him. “Why is that funny to you?”
“Because you sound like my ex,” he said. “He wants me to try to fix it with natural means as much as I can. He’s kind of a hippie that way.” Adam smiled at her, feeling more relaxed. “I want to just go off the medication. I don’t know if it’s worth it.”
“Why do you want to stop? Do you feel it’s making your life worse?”
“Maybe. I never even noticed anything was wrong at first. I could go back to folding my clothes easily. But...it does take a lot of energy. And I need that for my job, and for my relationship. I love Sauli a lot, I don’t want to make things hard for him.”
“I would think about that and talk it over with your doctor,” she said, writing on her pad. “In the meantime, have you been doing your exercises, writing down what makes you anxious?” Adam shook his head, and she sighed. “You try to do that, and mediate or sit quietly for at least fifteen minutes a day. I know your life is hectic, but give it a try.” Adam just nodded, because she was right.
Adam went to see his doctor, and he reduced the amount of medication. Adam felt the fog lift, and he felt happier than he had in months.
*
“Honey, that’s not how you fold the towels.” Sauli looked up, confused. “I mean it, it’s not right. I need the towels folded the right way when I’m home.” Adam could make it through the tours now, but this was his house. It had to be right. “Please. I can do it.”
“But you’re tired, you need to sleep. I’ll fold the towels. Adam, you know I’m very neat. I know how to fold things.” Sauli went back to the towels, and Adam clutched his hands over his stomach and tried to breath. “Adam?”
“I’ll do it,” he snapped, and he felt terrible for scaring Sauli. “At least let me show you!”
“Adam, you should take your medication,” Sauli said. Adam shook his head.
“I did. You’re just folding them wrong. I can’t deal with it.” Sauli left the laundry room then, stomping loud enough to echo against the walls. He heard Sauli get on the phone, and then he came back, standing in the doorway and glaring at him.
“I called Brad. He’s going to help us with the towels.”
Adam didn’t say anything, he just sat in his favorite chair and tried to breathe until Brad came by. Brad knew what it was like. He could fix it.
When Brad came in, the first thing he did was hug Adam. Adam felt Brad rub soothing circles over his back, and sighed. “I’m driving Sauli crazy,” Adam said. Brad just kissed his forehead and went to the laundry room. Adam stayed where he was, and he heard the smacking kiss Brad gave Sauli as a hello.
“Okay. I’m going to show you Adam’s way of folding towels. Are you ready? If we get it done soon he’ll be able to sleep tonight. But first, let’s dry them again.” Adam smiled, glad that Brad would still try to take care of him after all this time, and he let himself relax.
“Thank you,” he told Brad after he’d looked at the towels. Then he turned to Sauli. “I’m really sorry. Maybe I should up my dose again. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” Sauli just shrugged, and Adam decided to accept the forgiveness and not hold onto his remorse. When Sauli took a step forward and kissed him, he knew it was okay. Then Brad kissed them both and let himself out.
When Sauli and Adam went to bed that night, they curled against each other, holding on tight. Adam breathed in deep, smelling Sauli’s clean skin. He let all his worries go, and he concentrated on the here and now. When he slept, he wasn’t thinking about the books on his coffee table.
Fandom: Adam Lambert
Pairing: Adam/Brad, Adam/Sauli
Author: i_amthecosmos
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,020
Prompt: From glam_kink: Adam has a moderate case of OCD. He does fine in the real world, as long as he knows that everything is in its place.
Disclaimer: This was made up for mine and other’s amusement. I make no profit from this fan fiction, and I do not wish it to be Tweeted to anyone portrayed. Thank you.
“It’s sweet how you always fold the laundry.” Adam didn’t look at Brad, he had to make sure he got this right. He didn’t have any more quarters, so he had to fold it right the first time. Taking it back to the laundry and getting it dried again just led to uncomfortable questions. He carefully made sure that all the corners were straight and that there was no overlap. He stacked the towels, then started on his t-shirts, the blue ones first, then the greens. By the time he had finished with the socks, Brad was frowning. “Honey, I love that you do it, but I could do it faster.”
Adam started carefully putting their clothes in place, one item at a time. “But I like to do it.” Brad didn’t say anything, and Adam looked for the place in his dresser where he kept his special shirt. It was good luck, so it had its own place in his drawer, and nothing could go on top of it. “It’s not that you do it badly,” he said, even though he privately thought that Brad did. “But I have to make sure it’s right.”
*
Adam had a lot of rituals, and he never understood the way some people reacted to them. What was wrong with them? Didn’t they understand that the books on the coffee table had to be arranged the right way? One time he caught a friend of his reading one and putting it next to the stack instead of back in the middle, and he couldn’t wait for everyone to leave so he could fix the books. Brad looked at him, frowning, but Adam didn’t know why. Then he took Adam’s hand. “I think we need to have a talk.”
“Honey…why do the books have to be three in a stack, and at a ninety degree angle? Is there a reason for this?” Adam blinked-he thought Brad understood. “And…you have to do everything at the same time in the morning, even if we’re running late, and the clothes folding-why is it important?”
“Um, because it is?” Adam didn’t know what to say. “I mean, it has to be right. If it’s wrong, it’s going to bother me until it’s right. I can’t help it.” Adam slid closer to Brad. “I’m sorry, but I get upset if it isn’t. It’s really scary if things aren’t in place.”
“You know there’s a term for that,” Brad said. “I thought at first you were just being quirky, but you…that’s kind of past a cute eccentricity.” Brad hugged him. “I don’t know what we should do about it.”
“I don’t want to do anything-“
“You ruined the party because you couldn’t stop pacing in front of the coffee table. Maybe you could try meditating?” Adam nodded, because he just wanted the conversation over with. Really, it wasn’t that big of a deal. He just needed things to be where they needed to be. He didn’t need to get all Zen.
*
Adam was counting the stairs as he went to his apartment. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one. Twenty-one isn’t lucky. Why isn’t it a good number? I might have to leave this place. He let himself in and then sang the first verse of “Let the Sunshine In” under his breath. With the bad luck gone, now he could get started on his night. It was quiet and lonely without Brad, and maybe that’s why he kept seeing bad luck everywhere. But it was okay. He knew what to do.
*
A couple of years later, he was in the Idol mansion, sorting his makeup products into groups of three when Kris caught him. “Um, dude? What are you doing? Is this why you take so long in the bathroom?” Adam glared at him.
“You have a lucky guitar, shirt, and shoes. What’s the difference?”
Kris ratted on him, the little fucker. One if the producers came up with her concerned face on. “Kris tells me you have a lot of little…quirks,” she said. “Have you been counting things and putting your stuff up the same way for a long time?”
“Of course,” Adam said. “I mean, I perform just fine, so I don’t see why it’s anyone’s business. I can do anything on stage, I just need…”
“You need to spend thirty minutes folding your clothes,” the producer said. “We’ve got a lot of footage of you we had to edit out, because honestly it just looks odd. Adam, you’re the most talented person I’ve seen on this stage. But maybe…”
“Maybe what?” He didn’t like this conversation.
“Maybe you should see a doctor before you go on the Idol tour.”
*
Adam glared at the shrink that his record label had picked out for him. “I still don’t see why it’s such a problem. I don’t do any of this stuff onstage.”
“But you have several people who will be sharing a bus with you. You have to consider that. None of them are as experienced at touring as you are, and they might not think you having to rattle off three song titles beginning with ‘A’ every time you climb the bus steps is funny.” The doctor took out a pad and wrote on it. “You have a case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder that’s getting worse. I’m going to start you out on a low dose of Celexa and we’ll see how that works. I want you to call me if you’re having any trouble with side effects.”
Adam stared at the prescription. “I don’t want to take them.”
“It’ll be best for you in the long run. You don’t want this to overtake you until you can’t perform. And from what you’ve said, it interferes with your personal life. I recommend the medication and maybe some therapy. I can schedule you a session with a counselor as well. She does very good work with her OCD patients.” Adam shook his head. “Okay. The medication should help anyway. Thank you for stopping by.”
Adam almost said It wasn’t my idea, but he was busy counting the steps from his chair to the door.
*
It took Adam a few weeks to notice it, but he wasn’t counting his steps anymore. He still folded his clothes, but it didn’t take as long as it did before. When he threw a clean towel over the couch on the bus, he actually had to stop for a minute and stare.
Kris and Allison knew about the medication and his label’s insistence on it. He complained about it, but he noticed he was getting other things done, that he wasn’t as tired by the end of the night. He felt more relaxed too, and eventually, he got used to it. When he left Idol and became a star on his own, most of his quirks were gone.
*
“Hey honey.” Brad called him one night. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m tired,” he answered back. “The tour’s taking a lot out of me. And I have to keep getting my medication refilled, and it’s hard to do from the road.”
“How long have you been taking that now?” Brad always wanted to know about that, and Adam wasn’t sure why. “Does it still help you?”
“I still have to do things,” Adam said. “I have to light the same kind of candle in a new hotel room before I can relax. I have to pack my clothes in the right order, but I don’t need to fold them perfectly anymore.”
“I’m glad,” Brad said. “But…I wish you could have taken care of it without medication, with me. You know how I feel about medicating away anxiety. I think people can learn to accept it. Why don’t you try going to therapy?”
“I didn’t even think anything was wrong until they forced me to see the doctor, what makes you think I’d listen to a therapist?” Adam paused for a moment. “But yeah, I know you’re all about people taking control of their lives. And I like to think that I do. But...it helps.”
“Well, you do have a busy schedule, so I guess yoga for an hour is out,” Brad said. “But…don’t forget yourself. You’re not just a bunch of symptoms that needs to be controlled, honey.” Adam smiled at the ‘honey’, even if it made his heart twist just a little bit.
‘I know. Sometimes it feels like it. But mostly…I’m okay. It’s like I have more mental space. I can think about other things.” Adam had plenty of time now to think about how lonely he was, but he didn’t say that to Brad. It would make things awkward.
*
“Um, dude,” Tommy said one day. “Why are you re-arranging Sutan’s makeup bag? He’ll kill you.” Adam stared-he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “I mean,” Tommy continued, “You are kinda a freak about placement and shit, but you shouldn’t do that to someone who’s also a freak about it.”
Adam stared at the little groups he had made in Sutan’s makeup kit. He had to take a couple of deep breaths. My meds aren’t working anymore, he thought to himself. Shit. Now I have to call the doctor again.
*
“Well, we can put you on a higher dose,” the doctor said. “Or we can switch you to another SSRI. There are other medications available-low doses of Risperidone can work. It’s normally given to bipolar patients, but…”
“I’m not crazy,” Adam said, curling his hand into a fist. “I’m not.”
“Adam,” he said. “You have a recognized anxiety disorder. No, it’s not as severe as bipolar or other illnesses of the mind, but it’s a serious problem. I’m recommending you for a change in medication, and when you get back home, I’m scheduling you with a therapist. You need to learn to control it.”
“It doesn’t go away, does it?” Adam bit his lip. “Shit.”
“No, it doesn’t,” the doctor said. “But we can treat it.”
When Adam hung up, a prescription for Risperidone filled for him, he felt isolated from other people. Nobody else he knew went through this shit.
“I highly doubt that dude,” Tommy said, taking another sip of his drink. “I mean, I have panic attacks and I don’t have insurance except on tour. Anxiety problems are all over the place. It doesn’t make you crazy, not really, but you need to take care of it. It’s like having any other illness, you know?” Adam shook his head and Tommy sighed. “Trust me. It’ll be okay.”
*
Adam hated his fucking medication. The new one gave him joint pain when he first woke up, and it made him sleepy. The pain cleared up after a few days, but he still felt tired. He was glad the tour was over and he could rest more, but he had things he wanted to do. Like seeing that sweet Finnish boy he met on the European tour.
He sighed and sent him a text message. Miss you. Come and see me.
After a few minutes, he got a text back. I’ll be there soon.
Adam curled up on his hotel bed, candle burning on the side table across the room. He didn’t know if it would be soon enough.
*
Adam struggled over the lyrics he was trying to write. He didn’t know how-his brain was tired and his thoughts were jumbled and he couldn’t make sense of them. He’d been having this problem for weeks, and he called Sauli over. “I can’t write.”
Sauli looked at the crossed out lyrics and random words and frowned. “You are practicing?”
“No, I’m supposed to have lyrics ready by tomorrow, and I can’t…I can’t think straight.” Sauli looked mildly confused, and Adam explained. “My thoughts-I can’t keep them on the lyrics. And I’m tired. My pills make me tired.”
“You should call,” he said. “The doctor will know what to do. And you should see her.” Sauli knew that Adam tried to miss his appointments with the therapist.
“It won’t help me now,” Adam said. “I think I’ll just stop taking them.” Sauli put a hand on his shoulder.
“That’s...not a good idea.” Sauli rubbed his shoulders, and Adam’s head dropped forward. He let Sauli relax him, and when he was done, he tried to focus back on his lyrics.
He was up all night, working on them, and when he got to the studio, they were still only half-done. “What’s wrong, do you need more time?” Adam nodded. “Well, we’re already taking a lot of time on this record, we can get someone to write with you, anyone you want.” Adam shook his head.
“But, this song is important to me. I want it to really be mine.” Maybe writing about Sauli was too difficult, too close to his real life. But he was getting spacey in all areas of his life, so that couldn’t be it. No, something was wrong.
*
“I don’t think this medication is fucking working,” he said to Melissa, the therapist he’d been dodging. “I’m tired, and I can’t think straight enough to finish these lyrics-about my boyfriend. Why can’t I finish that? I love him and I need to get it right!”
She sat forward in her chair a bit. “It sounds like the fatigue side effects are interfering with your creativity.” Adam had to bite back the no shit. “Maybe we can try you on something else, maybe another SSRI, but that’s for your doctor to decide. I’m going to give you some exercises to do. Do you meditate at all?” That made him laugh, and she smiled at him. “Why is that funny to you?”
“Because you sound like my ex,” he said. “He wants me to try to fix it with natural means as much as I can. He’s kind of a hippie that way.” Adam smiled at her, feeling more relaxed. “I want to just go off the medication. I don’t know if it’s worth it.”
“Why do you want to stop? Do you feel it’s making your life worse?”
“Maybe. I never even noticed anything was wrong at first. I could go back to folding my clothes easily. But...it does take a lot of energy. And I need that for my job, and for my relationship. I love Sauli a lot, I don’t want to make things hard for him.”
“I would think about that and talk it over with your doctor,” she said, writing on her pad. “In the meantime, have you been doing your exercises, writing down what makes you anxious?” Adam shook his head, and she sighed. “You try to do that, and mediate or sit quietly for at least fifteen minutes a day. I know your life is hectic, but give it a try.” Adam just nodded, because she was right.
Adam went to see his doctor, and he reduced the amount of medication. Adam felt the fog lift, and he felt happier than he had in months.
*
“Honey, that’s not how you fold the towels.” Sauli looked up, confused. “I mean it, it’s not right. I need the towels folded the right way when I’m home.” Adam could make it through the tours now, but this was his house. It had to be right. “Please. I can do it.”
“But you’re tired, you need to sleep. I’ll fold the towels. Adam, you know I’m very neat. I know how to fold things.” Sauli went back to the towels, and Adam clutched his hands over his stomach and tried to breath. “Adam?”
“I’ll do it,” he snapped, and he felt terrible for scaring Sauli. “At least let me show you!”
“Adam, you should take your medication,” Sauli said. Adam shook his head.
“I did. You’re just folding them wrong. I can’t deal with it.” Sauli left the laundry room then, stomping loud enough to echo against the walls. He heard Sauli get on the phone, and then he came back, standing in the doorway and glaring at him.
“I called Brad. He’s going to help us with the towels.”
Adam didn’t say anything, he just sat in his favorite chair and tried to breathe until Brad came by. Brad knew what it was like. He could fix it.
When Brad came in, the first thing he did was hug Adam. Adam felt Brad rub soothing circles over his back, and sighed. “I’m driving Sauli crazy,” Adam said. Brad just kissed his forehead and went to the laundry room. Adam stayed where he was, and he heard the smacking kiss Brad gave Sauli as a hello.
“Okay. I’m going to show you Adam’s way of folding towels. Are you ready? If we get it done soon he’ll be able to sleep tonight. But first, let’s dry them again.” Adam smiled, glad that Brad would still try to take care of him after all this time, and he let himself relax.
“Thank you,” he told Brad after he’d looked at the towels. Then he turned to Sauli. “I’m really sorry. Maybe I should up my dose again. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” Sauli just shrugged, and Adam decided to accept the forgiveness and not hold onto his remorse. When Sauli took a step forward and kissed him, he knew it was okay. Then Brad kissed them both and let himself out.
When Sauli and Adam went to bed that night, they curled against each other, holding on tight. Adam breathed in deep, smelling Sauli’s clean skin. He let all his worries go, and he concentrated on the here and now. When he slept, he wasn’t thinking about the books on his coffee table.