A Series of Movements, Part 6: The Coils On Me...
Title: A Series of Movements, Part 6: The Coils On Me...
Author: musicloveraar
Rating: PG-ish...maybe slightly more. We get more mature this time.
Pairing: Adam/Kris
Notes: Sorry this took so long! I just couldn't settle on it. But it's here now, so enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own these people. I don't know them. This is just my little piece of them.
Part 1: http://community.livejournal.com/glambert_fic/103002.html
Part 2: http://community.livejournal.com/glambert_fic/104521.html#cutid1
Part 3: http://community.livejournal.com/glambert_fic/105855.html#cutid1
Part 4: http://community.livejournal.com/glambert_fic/106918.html#cutid1
Part 5: http://community.livejournal.com/glambert_fic/109129.html#cutid5
Katy leans in and kisses my cheek. “I'll see you next week, Kris. I'm so glad it's you and Adam.”
I hold her close to me. “Kate, you know Apologize?”
“The song you sang? Yeah.”
“I really am sorry.”
“You've got nothing to apologize for.” She pulls away from me. “I love you, Kris.”
“You too, Kate. Bye.” She smiles at me, the one I know as Katy.
“Bye.”
She walks down the steps, and I begin to close the door, but she calls out, “Hey?”
“Yeah?”
“You can do this, Kris.” She laughs, sweet and bell-like.
The door clicks shut.
======>
His hand is shaking.
I dump my jacket onto my bed silently; and Adam hasn't seen me yet.
He's leaning in close to the mirror, a fierce expression on his face; but it's crumbling and turning into something the I don't recognize.
His hand is shaking. And he's trying to use his left hand to steady it, but it won't stop shaking.
I turn to leave, because this is what Allison told me about, what she made me promise; but I can't do anything as I'm completely paralysed with fear, and I can't stay here.
Because seeing Adam break down, seeing the tears on his face; proof that he really is; isn't right. Adam shouldn't cry. Adam shouldn't hurt. Adam doesn't hurt.
But he is.
And that's scary.
Which is why I'm leaving.
“Kris, please help me. Can you - can you come here?” Adams voice is so quiet, he's whispering; and he sounds so broken, but I can't help him, because I don't know any of this, I don't know what to do.
“Please, Kris. Please.”
Against my instincts, I look up at him, and he's staring right at me, blackened tears streaking his cheeks, his blue eyes devoid of anything other then desperation, his hands at his sides; beyond vulnerable. He's cut himself open and I can see everything, and I don't know if I want to.
“Kris.” It's a whimper, and it breaks me a little inside.
Every part of me is straining to leave, but there's something, some weird emotion that won't let me; and I find myself walking over to him, scared shitless.
Adam slowly falls down onto the ground, sliding down the wall; wrapping his arms around his knees; his breathing hitching over some hindrance.
I take a few items that are scattered around his side of the bathroom, and sit down beside him, crossing my legs; kind of hesitant. I lightly take ahold of his chin, coaxing it upwards. Adam has closed his eyes, and as I begin to wipe off his make-up; I see that his eyelids are delicately showered with freckles.
Without all of the crap that Adam usually slathers his face with, he's so unbelievably beautiful; it's terrifying. His skin is so, so clear and his eyes look like raindrops on a leaf, glistening and glassy; piercing and icy and I can't really look at them. I smooth his face with the moisturiser he uses, the one with a lot of sinister-looking words on the label. His skin is softer than I thought it would be, and I'm trying not to aknowledge the emotions that are swirling inside me rampantly, but it's hard; because Adams skin is just soft, and I love how it feels beneath my fingertips and...I think I better stop this.
I pull away from Adam, and stand. “Uh...Adam? You wanna get dinner...or watch a DVD...or um, go to sleep? It's early, so I don't really know, but...” My stilted ramblings come to a slow halt, and Adam looks at me, his eyes full of shiny tears. “I think I'll just go to bed.” He rises, his long limbs unfolding fluidly, and he sort of brushes his chin or cheek against my nose; then walks to his bed, leaving all of his clothing on, except for his socks.
I close the door to the bathroom, and change into my makeshift pajamas, which are only my shirt and boxers, because I left my real ones at home. I creep out of the room, as quietly as possible, 'cause Adams turned out the lights, and is making small, hushed sleep-like noises.
And I'm glad that he chose to do that because one person can only be expected to touch someone for so long, and not break under the pressure of having to remain totally neutral.
Danny, thank God, seems to be in his bedroom, which is a relief; because I've only just realized that what I'm wearing doesn't cover the ink on my body spelling out Adams name.
And I've added to my collection. His name is now on my elbows, and I must have done it sometime really early in the morning, because I actually don't remember how and when it got there; only that it is.
-=-=-
The past two movies that I've watched were complete shit, and the one that's on now doesn't seem to be much better. It's nearly ten, and surprisingly, I'm tired. My mind is just going around and around and around in circles and I just want to put it all to rest.
“Hey,” I look up to see Adam walking into the lounge, getting closer to me, “I couldn't sleep, so -”
It takes me a moment to register why Adam has halted, but I realize. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, because fuck, I can't hide whats written on my body, I can't make it disappear.
His name is scrawled so obviously on my body; in crooked circles, and it won't go way.
He sees it. His eyes zone in on my body, then lock into my gaze.
And to me, it's like the end of the world.
Adams eyes boulder through every single one of the barriers I'd made in the past four months, and he moves his hand to his low rising skinny jeans - his hipbone; pushing up his pale blue shirt a little. He proceeds to inch it up and I think for one crazy-ass moment that he might be beginning a really strange strip tease, but it dissipates that moment I see inky black coils wrapping around his lightly freckled ribcage, the letters indecipherable on his milky skin; slightly smudged from maybe being there a while.
Adams gaze is somewhere over my shoulder, and I stand hesitantly, sensing perhaps why Adam, would be averting his eyes. I lean in further, and that's when I know, even from this vantage point, what is on Adam body; what the blackness is.
My name.
My name.
Above his taut stomach, on his ribcage is my name. Curling around his skin, curving where it does.
My name.
I step forwards, again and again, until I'm less than three inches apart from him, and I trail my gaze right up to his; his eyes, thankfully, looking straight back at me.
“Adam -”
He presses his eyes closed hard, “Kris. You know why I can't do this.” His voice is barely above a whisper. And I do.
The absurdity, the reality of the situation hits me: Adam standing before me; still rasing his shirt, telling me that nothing can happen because of Katy, my own body inked with his name, raw for him to see. My feelings and reasons are meddling with one another, trying to come to the surface, to tell what they think; all stacked upon each other. This is my worst nightmare and dream merged together, and I don't know what to do.
“Kris...do you - do you know - do you have any idea idea - of what - what this...do you know what you're feeling?”
I shake my head, because this is the only thing I do know; that I don't.
He sighs softly; not at all impatiently, or angrily; only tiredly, and rakes a hand through his hair. “Okay. I think - I'll just - I'll - I'm going to go back to bed. But if you - if you need to tell me anything, or ask something, or you just need to talk to someone; please - please wake me.”
Adam lets his shirt fall back into place; and while he runs a hand over his face; he relinquishes to a very tiny smile, a small pull of his lips; the freckles bright and vivid, then exits the room.
But sleep doesn't seem to want to capture me tonight. It doesn't want to reel me in with a wacked-out dream that'll hold me captivated until morning.
And it appears to be all because of one question. A question that won't leave me alone. It's holding me prisoner, demanding an answer.
I shift out of bed and move across to Adam; crouching down beside his head.
“Adam?”
“Yeah?” He rolls over to face me, his eyes open wide and his hair mussed.
“Why do I - why do I feel like this?”
“Oh, honey.” He sits up, and gently takes my hand, coaxing me upwards. He pulls me into him, my back to his chest; and drags all of the blankets high around us; covering us. “Oh, baby. I don't know. I really don't know.” His legs are folded around mine, obscured by the blankets, and he rocks me slowly; his lips in my hair, calming me.
And I feel my eyes begin to close to Adams hand wrapped so tightly around my waist, to the sound of his voice, muttering a quiet refrain over and over again, in the center of his bed; Adams body warm against mine.
“Oh, sweetheart. You're safe here. You're safe with me.”
-
Author: musicloveraar
Rating: PG-ish...maybe slightly more. We get more mature this time.
Pairing: Adam/Kris
Notes: Sorry this took so long! I just couldn't settle on it. But it's here now, so enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own these people. I don't know them. This is just my little piece of them.
Part 1: http://community.livejournal.com/glambert_fic/103002.html
Part 2: http://community.livejournal.com/glambert_fic/104521.html#cutid1
Part 3: http://community.livejournal.com/glambert_fic/105855.html#cutid1
Part 4: http://community.livejournal.com/glambert_fic/106918.html#cutid1
Part 5: http://community.livejournal.com/glambert_fic/109129.html#cutid5
Katy leans in and kisses my cheek. “I'll see you next week, Kris. I'm so glad it's you and Adam.”
I hold her close to me. “Kate, you know Apologize?”
“The song you sang? Yeah.”
“I really am sorry.”
“You've got nothing to apologize for.” She pulls away from me. “I love you, Kris.”
“You too, Kate. Bye.” She smiles at me, the one I know as Katy.
“Bye.”
She walks down the steps, and I begin to close the door, but she calls out, “Hey?”
“Yeah?”
“You can do this, Kris.” She laughs, sweet and bell-like.
The door clicks shut.
======>
His hand is shaking.
I dump my jacket onto my bed silently; and Adam hasn't seen me yet.
He's leaning in close to the mirror, a fierce expression on his face; but it's crumbling and turning into something the I don't recognize.
His hand is shaking. And he's trying to use his left hand to steady it, but it won't stop shaking.
I turn to leave, because this is what Allison told me about, what she made me promise; but I can't do anything as I'm completely paralysed with fear, and I can't stay here.
Because seeing Adam break down, seeing the tears on his face; proof that he really is; isn't right. Adam shouldn't cry. Adam shouldn't hurt. Adam doesn't hurt.
But he is.
And that's scary.
Which is why I'm leaving.
“Kris, please help me. Can you - can you come here?” Adams voice is so quiet, he's whispering; and he sounds so broken, but I can't help him, because I don't know any of this, I don't know what to do.
“Please, Kris. Please.”
Against my instincts, I look up at him, and he's staring right at me, blackened tears streaking his cheeks, his blue eyes devoid of anything other then desperation, his hands at his sides; beyond vulnerable. He's cut himself open and I can see everything, and I don't know if I want to.
“Kris.” It's a whimper, and it breaks me a little inside.
Every part of me is straining to leave, but there's something, some weird emotion that won't let me; and I find myself walking over to him, scared shitless.
Adam slowly falls down onto the ground, sliding down the wall; wrapping his arms around his knees; his breathing hitching over some hindrance.
I take a few items that are scattered around his side of the bathroom, and sit down beside him, crossing my legs; kind of hesitant. I lightly take ahold of his chin, coaxing it upwards. Adam has closed his eyes, and as I begin to wipe off his make-up; I see that his eyelids are delicately showered with freckles.
Without all of the crap that Adam usually slathers his face with, he's so unbelievably beautiful; it's terrifying. His skin is so, so clear and his eyes look like raindrops on a leaf, glistening and glassy; piercing and icy and I can't really look at them. I smooth his face with the moisturiser he uses, the one with a lot of sinister-looking words on the label. His skin is softer than I thought it would be, and I'm trying not to aknowledge the emotions that are swirling inside me rampantly, but it's hard; because Adams skin is just soft, and I love how it feels beneath my fingertips and...I think I better stop this.
I pull away from Adam, and stand. “Uh...Adam? You wanna get dinner...or watch a DVD...or um, go to sleep? It's early, so I don't really know, but...” My stilted ramblings come to a slow halt, and Adam looks at me, his eyes full of shiny tears. “I think I'll just go to bed.” He rises, his long limbs unfolding fluidly, and he sort of brushes his chin or cheek against my nose; then walks to his bed, leaving all of his clothing on, except for his socks.
I close the door to the bathroom, and change into my makeshift pajamas, which are only my shirt and boxers, because I left my real ones at home. I creep out of the room, as quietly as possible, 'cause Adams turned out the lights, and is making small, hushed sleep-like noises.
And I'm glad that he chose to do that because one person can only be expected to touch someone for so long, and not break under the pressure of having to remain totally neutral.
Danny, thank God, seems to be in his bedroom, which is a relief; because I've only just realized that what I'm wearing doesn't cover the ink on my body spelling out Adams name.
And I've added to my collection. His name is now on my elbows, and I must have done it sometime really early in the morning, because I actually don't remember how and when it got there; only that it is.
-=-=-
The past two movies that I've watched were complete shit, and the one that's on now doesn't seem to be much better. It's nearly ten, and surprisingly, I'm tired. My mind is just going around and around and around in circles and I just want to put it all to rest.
“Hey,” I look up to see Adam walking into the lounge, getting closer to me, “I couldn't sleep, so -”
It takes me a moment to register why Adam has halted, but I realize. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, because fuck, I can't hide whats written on my body, I can't make it disappear.
His name is scrawled so obviously on my body; in crooked circles, and it won't go way.
He sees it. His eyes zone in on my body, then lock into my gaze.
And to me, it's like the end of the world.
Adams eyes boulder through every single one of the barriers I'd made in the past four months, and he moves his hand to his low rising skinny jeans - his hipbone; pushing up his pale blue shirt a little. He proceeds to inch it up and I think for one crazy-ass moment that he might be beginning a really strange strip tease, but it dissipates that moment I see inky black coils wrapping around his lightly freckled ribcage, the letters indecipherable on his milky skin; slightly smudged from maybe being there a while.
Adams gaze is somewhere over my shoulder, and I stand hesitantly, sensing perhaps why Adam, would be averting his eyes. I lean in further, and that's when I know, even from this vantage point, what is on Adam body; what the blackness is.
My name.
My name.
Above his taut stomach, on his ribcage is my name. Curling around his skin, curving where it does.
My name.
I step forwards, again and again, until I'm less than three inches apart from him, and I trail my gaze right up to his; his eyes, thankfully, looking straight back at me.
“Adam -”
He presses his eyes closed hard, “Kris. You know why I can't do this.” His voice is barely above a whisper. And I do.
The absurdity, the reality of the situation hits me: Adam standing before me; still rasing his shirt, telling me that nothing can happen because of Katy, my own body inked with his name, raw for him to see. My feelings and reasons are meddling with one another, trying to come to the surface, to tell what they think; all stacked upon each other. This is my worst nightmare and dream merged together, and I don't know what to do.
“Kris...do you - do you know - do you have any idea idea - of what - what this...do you know what you're feeling?”
I shake my head, because this is the only thing I do know; that I don't.
He sighs softly; not at all impatiently, or angrily; only tiredly, and rakes a hand through his hair. “Okay. I think - I'll just - I'll - I'm going to go back to bed. But if you - if you need to tell me anything, or ask something, or you just need to talk to someone; please - please wake me.”
Adam lets his shirt fall back into place; and while he runs a hand over his face; he relinquishes to a very tiny smile, a small pull of his lips; the freckles bright and vivid, then exits the room.
But sleep doesn't seem to want to capture me tonight. It doesn't want to reel me in with a wacked-out dream that'll hold me captivated until morning.
And it appears to be all because of one question. A question that won't leave me alone. It's holding me prisoner, demanding an answer.
I shift out of bed and move across to Adam; crouching down beside his head.
“Adam?”
“Yeah?” He rolls over to face me, his eyes open wide and his hair mussed.
“Why do I - why do I feel like this?”
“Oh, honey.” He sits up, and gently takes my hand, coaxing me upwards. He pulls me into him, my back to his chest; and drags all of the blankets high around us; covering us. “Oh, baby. I don't know. I really don't know.” His legs are folded around mine, obscured by the blankets, and he rocks me slowly; his lips in my hair, calming me.
And I feel my eyes begin to close to Adams hand wrapped so tightly around my waist, to the sound of his voice, muttering a quiet refrain over and over again, in the center of his bed; Adams body warm against mine.
“Oh, sweetheart. You're safe here. You're safe with me.”
-