Crossing the Line/O.T.T. Part 2/?
Title: Crossing the Line/O.T.T. (Part 2/?)
Author: cunningdeb
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: adam/kris
Summary: Set between the Idol finale and the start of the summer tour. Adam gets too much attention from a few of his “adoring” fans
Disclaimer: I do not own the people involved. This story does not depict the majority of Adam’s fans - idea brought on by stalker incident in Tampa.
Warnings: language, angst, violence, anxiety issues. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE TRIGGERS. I don’t know if it’s classified as non-con but Adam didn’t want the kind of attention he was given - recalled in conversation, remembrances.
PART TWO
An hour passed and anyone who had even the slightest connection to Adam was contacted. Kris had called Adam’s parents and brother - he knew them well enough that it wouldn’t seem strange he should call about his best friend. He chatted casually, working into the conversation a question about Adam’s whereabouts, not trying to alarm them. They hadn’t heard from him since yesterday when he talked nonstop about trying on his sic new jacket.
Adam’s cell had been called so many times, his voice mail was full. The police had been contacted but they couldn’t do anything until 24 hours had passed.
The elevator door closed and the floor of the hotel was deserted. Everyone went out looking for their missing Idol.
--*--
The shopkeeper flicked on the bare overhead bulb and stared down the barrel of his shotgun at the intruder. Before him, pressing his back into the wall was a kid on his knees, clothes ripped and dirty, face frozen in fear, lips pleading silently. Looked like he was running from someone - may gang bangers…or gay bashers, considering the make up streaked down his face.
Keeping the gun on the kid, but lowering it slightly, the shopkeeper slowly looked around his shop and out the front windows. When it looked like no trouble was headed his way, he put the gun down. The kid dropped his head, letting out a shaky, audible, shuttering “Thank you.”
With the gun tucked under his arm, the older man reached for something beside the door and retrieved a packet of handy wipes.
“There’s a small mirror behind this door. Clean yourself up,” he muttered, tossing the wipes on Adam’s knees. He turned and disappeared back into the shop.
Adam’s shaky legs barely held his weight as he got up, opening the wipes. He closed the door. It was one of those tiny mirrors you could get for your locker and he couldn’t make out his entire face at once. Seemed fitting, he thought. His face was in pieces, just as his life felt at the moment. Bit by bit, he cleaned his face up until everything was gone - the dirt, the filth, the make-up, himself.
He peered around the storage room door. The shopkeeper had pulled down the blinds to his storefront windows and was turning the OPEN sign to CLOSED, locking the door and pulling its blind down as well.
Sensing he was being watched, the shopkeeper didn’t look at his ‘guest’, just went to the cooler and pulled out a bottle of water and a can of beer. “Don’t know which you want kid but you need something.”
Hands shoved in his front jean pockets, Adam slowly approached the counter, head down. He wasn’t a beer drinker but the sting of the alcohol soothed his throat. The cold water bottle he held up to his face.
The shopkeeper watched him silently for a minute or two. The kid looked harmless, even more so after that junk was off his face. He really didn’t want to know what happened, he just wanted him gone.
“Maybe I should call the cops for you.”
“No!” Adam’s voice cut the air, cracking like thunder. “I, I just need a minute and then I’ll leave, I’ll, I’ll go home.”
“You have a car?”
Adam rubbed his forehead, remembering. “I did, not nearby, I think. I really don’t know; I’m all turned around.”
“You want to call someone?”
Adam shook his head. “No, no, not, not yet. I just need to get home.”
“A taxi?”
He could do that but then he realized his wallet was gone - so was his cell phone. Adam hurried to the blinds and peered out, checking for himself that no one was waiting for him or lurking nearby.
“Maybe, maybe when it gets darker, I’ll walk…”
“No, no you won’t.” Adam heard jingling and turned. The shopkeeper returned the gun to its place under the counter and had grabbed his car keys. “It’s closing time anyway. I’ll drive you.”
--*--
Everyone had returned to the hotel except Adam. It was late afternoon and dusk was settling in. They gathered in their manager’s suite and waited in silence. Each time a phone rang, they collectively jumped. Each time the phone rang it wasn’t Adam, just someone returning a message saying they hadn’t seen him. Kris’ stomach was in knots.
--*--
“Is this it?”
Adam looked out at the bungalow. The lights were off, the street was quiet, no one to be seen.
“Yeah, thanks.” Adam got out slowly.
“Next time kid, watch your back.”
Adam nodded his head. He prayed there wouldn’t be a next time.
He ran up the driveway and disappeared around back. Fishing around under a fake rock by the garage, the extra key was right where he expected. His fingers fumbled for the lock. Adam’s friend Jerry was in Mexico on holiday so he knew he’d be alone. Keeping as many lights off as possible - didn’t want to alert the neighbors - Adam made his way to the bedroom and stripped. He threw his jeans in the washer but his shirt was beyond repair. He’d have to borrow one of Jerry’s.
Adam jumped in the shower, setting the water as hot as he could take it. His skin stung under the soap, especially the back of his neck. He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until the runoff was tinged pink. Turning off the water when he could no longer feel their hands on him, he opened the shower curtain and caught sight of himself in the vanity mirror. He stared at his reflection, slowly revealing itself as the fogged up glass cleared. Adam took in what they had done to him. His knees gave way as the full picture emerged and he slumped into the tub.
The empty house echoed with sobbing.
Author: cunningdeb
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: adam/kris
Summary: Set between the Idol finale and the start of the summer tour. Adam gets too much attention from a few of his “adoring” fans
Disclaimer: I do not own the people involved. This story does not depict the majority of Adam’s fans - idea brought on by stalker incident in Tampa.
Warnings: language, angst, violence, anxiety issues. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE TRIGGERS. I don’t know if it’s classified as non-con but Adam didn’t want the kind of attention he was given - recalled in conversation, remembrances.
PART TWO
An hour passed and anyone who had even the slightest connection to Adam was contacted. Kris had called Adam’s parents and brother - he knew them well enough that it wouldn’t seem strange he should call about his best friend. He chatted casually, working into the conversation a question about Adam’s whereabouts, not trying to alarm them. They hadn’t heard from him since yesterday when he talked nonstop about trying on his sic new jacket.
Adam’s cell had been called so many times, his voice mail was full. The police had been contacted but they couldn’t do anything until 24 hours had passed.
The elevator door closed and the floor of the hotel was deserted. Everyone went out looking for their missing Idol.
--*--
The shopkeeper flicked on the bare overhead bulb and stared down the barrel of his shotgun at the intruder. Before him, pressing his back into the wall was a kid on his knees, clothes ripped and dirty, face frozen in fear, lips pleading silently. Looked like he was running from someone - may gang bangers…or gay bashers, considering the make up streaked down his face.
Keeping the gun on the kid, but lowering it slightly, the shopkeeper slowly looked around his shop and out the front windows. When it looked like no trouble was headed his way, he put the gun down. The kid dropped his head, letting out a shaky, audible, shuttering “Thank you.”
With the gun tucked under his arm, the older man reached for something beside the door and retrieved a packet of handy wipes.
“There’s a small mirror behind this door. Clean yourself up,” he muttered, tossing the wipes on Adam’s knees. He turned and disappeared back into the shop.
Adam’s shaky legs barely held his weight as he got up, opening the wipes. He closed the door. It was one of those tiny mirrors you could get for your locker and he couldn’t make out his entire face at once. Seemed fitting, he thought. His face was in pieces, just as his life felt at the moment. Bit by bit, he cleaned his face up until everything was gone - the dirt, the filth, the make-up, himself.
He peered around the storage room door. The shopkeeper had pulled down the blinds to his storefront windows and was turning the OPEN sign to CLOSED, locking the door and pulling its blind down as well.
Sensing he was being watched, the shopkeeper didn’t look at his ‘guest’, just went to the cooler and pulled out a bottle of water and a can of beer. “Don’t know which you want kid but you need something.”
Hands shoved in his front jean pockets, Adam slowly approached the counter, head down. He wasn’t a beer drinker but the sting of the alcohol soothed his throat. The cold water bottle he held up to his face.
The shopkeeper watched him silently for a minute or two. The kid looked harmless, even more so after that junk was off his face. He really didn’t want to know what happened, he just wanted him gone.
“Maybe I should call the cops for you.”
“No!” Adam’s voice cut the air, cracking like thunder. “I, I just need a minute and then I’ll leave, I’ll, I’ll go home.”
“You have a car?”
Adam rubbed his forehead, remembering. “I did, not nearby, I think. I really don’t know; I’m all turned around.”
“You want to call someone?”
Adam shook his head. “No, no, not, not yet. I just need to get home.”
“A taxi?”
He could do that but then he realized his wallet was gone - so was his cell phone. Adam hurried to the blinds and peered out, checking for himself that no one was waiting for him or lurking nearby.
“Maybe, maybe when it gets darker, I’ll walk…”
“No, no you won’t.” Adam heard jingling and turned. The shopkeeper returned the gun to its place under the counter and had grabbed his car keys. “It’s closing time anyway. I’ll drive you.”
--*--
Everyone had returned to the hotel except Adam. It was late afternoon and dusk was settling in. They gathered in their manager’s suite and waited in silence. Each time a phone rang, they collectively jumped. Each time the phone rang it wasn’t Adam, just someone returning a message saying they hadn’t seen him. Kris’ stomach was in knots.
--*--
“Is this it?”
Adam looked out at the bungalow. The lights were off, the street was quiet, no one to be seen.
“Yeah, thanks.” Adam got out slowly.
“Next time kid, watch your back.”
Adam nodded his head. He prayed there wouldn’t be a next time.
He ran up the driveway and disappeared around back. Fishing around under a fake rock by the garage, the extra key was right where he expected. His fingers fumbled for the lock. Adam’s friend Jerry was in Mexico on holiday so he knew he’d be alone. Keeping as many lights off as possible - didn’t want to alert the neighbors - Adam made his way to the bedroom and stripped. He threw his jeans in the washer but his shirt was beyond repair. He’d have to borrow one of Jerry’s.
Adam jumped in the shower, setting the water as hot as he could take it. His skin stung under the soap, especially the back of his neck. He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until the runoff was tinged pink. Turning off the water when he could no longer feel their hands on him, he opened the shower curtain and caught sight of himself in the vanity mirror. He stared at his reflection, slowly revealing itself as the fogged up glass cleared. Adam took in what they had done to him. His knees gave way as the full picture emerged and he slumped into the tub.
The empty house echoed with sobbing.