Crossing the Line/O.T.T. Part 3/?
Title: Crossing the Line/O.T.T. (Part 3/?)
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 One - http://cunningdeb.livejournal.com/2135.html#cutid1
Part Two - http://cunningdeb.livejournal.com/2471.html#cutid1
PART THREE
“C’mon, get off, get off!”
Adam scoured, trying to get rid of the pinkish ring around the tub. It was fading but barely. A pile of wet, blood smeared white towels lay on the floor beside him. He felt an uncontrollable urge to vanquish any signs he was there, even though Jerry told him he could use the house anytime. He didn’t want there being any unnecessary questions asked.
Finally, as his arm felt like it would snap off, the porcelain turned white again. Adam slid off his numb legs, slowly and painfully stretching them out as he leaned against the toilet. He’d lost track of time - and his watch too. Kris and the others were probably wondering what happened to him. He needed Kris but he wasn’t ready yet. He quickly made up a cover story. He couldn’t tell them the truth - it was too humiliating.
Gathering the towels, Adam went back to the washing machine. He tossed his jeans in the dryer and put the towels in the wash, adding lots of bleach. From there, he returned to the bathroom and found the first aid kit. He couldn’t see behind his neck but he could tell it wasn’t pretty, particularly when he administered some antiseptic and nearly shattered the mirror with his scream. Fumbling around, he managed to cover his injury with gauze and tape it down.
Adam looked at himself, naked, defeated and marked. He’d never felt that way and he hated it. No matter how many times he told himself it was a freak incident, that it wouldn’t happen again, that damn, mocking voice in his head told him it could, a probably would, thanks to his ambition and need to be the center of attention. He brought this on himself.
A faint ding alerted Adam to the dryer. He tugged on the warm denim, wincing as the fabric ran over his hip. He dug through Jerry’s closet and found a long sleeve, button up shirt with a collar that would stand up on its own.
He couldn’t go until the towels were dried and put back so Adam raided the liquor cabinet. It probably wasn’t a good idea to drink on an empty stomach but it was the only nourishment he craved. Sitting at the kitchen table, light reflecting from the hall, Adam drank…and drank…and drank…and threw up.
When his stomach stopped flip flopping, he cleaned up his latest mess and scribbled a note of apology, promising to return the borrowed clothes soon and to have the table refinished. A chill shook him. Digging in the back of the closet, he pulled on a fall jacket and gingerly wrapped a scarf around his neck. He picked up the phone, made his call, and ventured into the warm June night, hiding in the dark until his ride came.
--*--
Another hour passed. Another phone rang. Kris’ phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello.”
Silence.
“Hello?” Kris’ instincts told him who it was. “Adam?”
“Yeah.”
Adam didn’t sound like himself. Something happened. Kris looked around the room. Everyone heard him and knew Adam had finally surfaced. Management was about ready to yank the phone out of his hand; Kris left the room before they had a chance. They followed but Kris raised his hand, signaling them to back off. He closed the door and paced the hallway, lowering his voice.
“Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I need a ride.”
“Of course, of course. Are you okay? You can tell me; I’m alone.”
Adam paused, the silence was deafening.
“Adam, are you still there?”
“I need you. I need you to come - not a driver. Can you do that for me?”
This vulnerable Adam frightened Kris. He would have promised him anything at that moment.
“I don’t know how but I will. Where are you?”
Adam gave the address, somewhere on the other side of the city. He told Kris to wait at the end of the driveway for him. And not to ask any questions.
The call was cut off. Kris disappeared into the stairwell.
--*--
Kris found the house and waited as Adam had asked. Kris couldn’t get access to a company car without alerting management so he sweet talked the concierge into loaning him her car.
It was a quiet, old neighborhood, nothing spectacular. Kris wondered why Adam was there but he had promised he wouldn’t ask, even though he desperately wanted answers. He knew Adam would tell him in his own time. Meanwhile, he would just be there for him.
A figure lurked at side of the bungalow, looking around, then bolted to the car. Adam jumped in, slamming the door shut. Kris caught a brief glimpse of him when the overhead light went on. He didn’t look like himself - his hair was too flat, his clothes too ordinary - those weren’t his clothes.
Kris and Adam drove in silence. Kris tried to keep his eyes on the road but he wanted to look at Adam not looking at him. Adam hadn’t said a word. There was an odd smell in the car, a toxic cocktail of detergent, alcohol and something sour Kris couldn’t readily identify.
Maybe Adam’s just stressed. It had been a whirlwind, media circus since the finale but things would calm down. Their friends were back, the relative freedom of the Idol Tour lay before them. Things would get better. Adam would feel better.
They pulled into the parking lot and headed into the lobby. Adam kept walking, head down, eyes searching and waited at the elevator, back to the wall, while Kris returned the car keys. Kris silently raised a finger to his lips, asking his accomplice to keep quiet about his trip. She returned the gesture and nodded.
Adam didn’t say anything or look at Kris on the slow ride up to their floor. The doors opened. The hallway was deserted except for their tour manager and Adam’s two bodyguards waiting outside the suite. Adam circumnavigated them but a strong hand grabbed his elbow. Adam yanked away violently, his heart skipping a beat. Their manager briefly looked surprised at Adam’s reaction then pointed to his office. Adam went in, the manager went in, one bodyguard went in, and the other blocked Kris as the door slammed shut.
The yelling began instantly. Kris tried talking the mammoth man into letting him go in or at least wait for Adam in the hall. He was told none too nicely to mind his own business and go to his room.
--*--
“What the fuck were you thinking?” the conversation began. It wasn’t starting well.
“I’m sorry, won’t happen again.” Adam looked at his clenched fists, refusing to make eye contact.
“That’s not a fucking answer! What…where…you…thinking?”
“I, I ran into an old friend…from out of state…wanted to catch up.”
“Oh really?” was the snide response. “You wanted to chat and catch up? YOU COULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT HERE?”
“I’m sorry, we, we wanted some, some privacy.”
“That kind of ‘catching up” huh? You thought a blowjob and few hours of sex were worth JEOPARDIZING YOUR CAREER AND THIS FUCKING TOUR?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Adam’s voice cracked, his body shaking under the verbal assault.
“You have no regard for anyone, do you? You don’t care that you could have put this tour in danger, as well as the future of your friends with bad publicity. But who cares about them, right? Just take care of Adam Lambert and screw the consequences!”
“I’m sorry!”
“You do something like this again and you will be sorry, I personally guarantee it! Get the hell out and you better show up for rehearsals in the morning.”
Adam nodded and walked out. He didn’t blame them for being pissed at him. It was a stupid cover story but it was a story where he was in control of what he did.
--*--
Kris was in his room but his door was open, waiting for Adam to be set free. He wished they were roommates again. They had been given separate rooms even though everyone else was sharing. Kris figured it was because of the extra demands on their time as the two finalists; management probably didn’t want to disrupt anyone else with their odd schedules.
The screaming stopped and Kris stuck his head out as Adam left the suite and hurried to his own room, the room next door to Kris.
Adam saw Kris. He reached for his door.
“That sounded intense,” Kris began.
“It was.”
“What were you thinking?”
“I said I was sorry, can we just leave it at that?”
“No, we can’t. You had me worried sick.”
Adam adjusted the scarf around his neck. “I had to get away … it was too much.”
“You could have told them that. They would have helped.”
“No,” Adam lashed back. “They couldn’t help; no one helped me.” Adam disappeared into his room and Kris heard the lock.
--*--
As soon as Adam had disappeared into his room, leaving his friend speechless, Kris went into his own room and immediately heard, he wasn’t sure what, knocking or bumping. He pressed his ear to the paper thin walls. Kris was worried, really worried. Adam had been so strong through this entire competition, a rock everyone depended on. To see him, what, on the verge of breaking, wasn’t normal, wasn’t Adam. There had to be an explanation and he was determined to get one. There was no way he was going to let his best friend implode.
--*--
Lock. Swish. Click. Click. Click. Push. Push. Push. Drag. Drag. Stack. Climb. Wait.
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 One - http://cunningdeb.livejournal.com/2135.html#cutid1
Part Two - http://cunningdeb.livejournal.com/2471.html#cutid1
PART THREE
“C’mon, get off, get off!”
Adam scoured, trying to get rid of the pinkish ring around the tub. It was fading but barely. A pile of wet, blood smeared white towels lay on the floor beside him. He felt an uncontrollable urge to vanquish any signs he was there, even though Jerry told him he could use the house anytime. He didn’t want there being any unnecessary questions asked.
Finally, as his arm felt like it would snap off, the porcelain turned white again. Adam slid off his numb legs, slowly and painfully stretching them out as he leaned against the toilet. He’d lost track of time - and his watch too. Kris and the others were probably wondering what happened to him. He needed Kris but he wasn’t ready yet. He quickly made up a cover story. He couldn’t tell them the truth - it was too humiliating.
Gathering the towels, Adam went back to the washing machine. He tossed his jeans in the dryer and put the towels in the wash, adding lots of bleach. From there, he returned to the bathroom and found the first aid kit. He couldn’t see behind his neck but he could tell it wasn’t pretty, particularly when he administered some antiseptic and nearly shattered the mirror with his scream. Fumbling around, he managed to cover his injury with gauze and tape it down.
Adam looked at himself, naked, defeated and marked. He’d never felt that way and he hated it. No matter how many times he told himself it was a freak incident, that it wouldn’t happen again, that damn, mocking voice in his head told him it could, a probably would, thanks to his ambition and need to be the center of attention. He brought this on himself.
A faint ding alerted Adam to the dryer. He tugged on the warm denim, wincing as the fabric ran over his hip. He dug through Jerry’s closet and found a long sleeve, button up shirt with a collar that would stand up on its own.
He couldn’t go until the towels were dried and put back so Adam raided the liquor cabinet. It probably wasn’t a good idea to drink on an empty stomach but it was the only nourishment he craved. Sitting at the kitchen table, light reflecting from the hall, Adam drank…and drank…and drank…and threw up.
When his stomach stopped flip flopping, he cleaned up his latest mess and scribbled a note of apology, promising to return the borrowed clothes soon and to have the table refinished. A chill shook him. Digging in the back of the closet, he pulled on a fall jacket and gingerly wrapped a scarf around his neck. He picked up the phone, made his call, and ventured into the warm June night, hiding in the dark until his ride came.
--*--
Another hour passed. Another phone rang. Kris’ phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello.”
Silence.
“Hello?” Kris’ instincts told him who it was. “Adam?”
“Yeah.”
Adam didn’t sound like himself. Something happened. Kris looked around the room. Everyone heard him and knew Adam had finally surfaced. Management was about ready to yank the phone out of his hand; Kris left the room before they had a chance. They followed but Kris raised his hand, signaling them to back off. He closed the door and paced the hallway, lowering his voice.
“Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I need a ride.”
“Of course, of course. Are you okay? You can tell me; I’m alone.”
Adam paused, the silence was deafening.
“Adam, are you still there?”
“I need you. I need you to come - not a driver. Can you do that for me?”
This vulnerable Adam frightened Kris. He would have promised him anything at that moment.
“I don’t know how but I will. Where are you?”
Adam gave the address, somewhere on the other side of the city. He told Kris to wait at the end of the driveway for him. And not to ask any questions.
The call was cut off. Kris disappeared into the stairwell.
--*--
Kris found the house and waited as Adam had asked. Kris couldn’t get access to a company car without alerting management so he sweet talked the concierge into loaning him her car.
It was a quiet, old neighborhood, nothing spectacular. Kris wondered why Adam was there but he had promised he wouldn’t ask, even though he desperately wanted answers. He knew Adam would tell him in his own time. Meanwhile, he would just be there for him.
A figure lurked at side of the bungalow, looking around, then bolted to the car. Adam jumped in, slamming the door shut. Kris caught a brief glimpse of him when the overhead light went on. He didn’t look like himself - his hair was too flat, his clothes too ordinary - those weren’t his clothes.
Kris and Adam drove in silence. Kris tried to keep his eyes on the road but he wanted to look at Adam not looking at him. Adam hadn’t said a word. There was an odd smell in the car, a toxic cocktail of detergent, alcohol and something sour Kris couldn’t readily identify.
Maybe Adam’s just stressed. It had been a whirlwind, media circus since the finale but things would calm down. Their friends were back, the relative freedom of the Idol Tour lay before them. Things would get better. Adam would feel better.
They pulled into the parking lot and headed into the lobby. Adam kept walking, head down, eyes searching and waited at the elevator, back to the wall, while Kris returned the car keys. Kris silently raised a finger to his lips, asking his accomplice to keep quiet about his trip. She returned the gesture and nodded.
Adam didn’t say anything or look at Kris on the slow ride up to their floor. The doors opened. The hallway was deserted except for their tour manager and Adam’s two bodyguards waiting outside the suite. Adam circumnavigated them but a strong hand grabbed his elbow. Adam yanked away violently, his heart skipping a beat. Their manager briefly looked surprised at Adam’s reaction then pointed to his office. Adam went in, the manager went in, one bodyguard went in, and the other blocked Kris as the door slammed shut.
The yelling began instantly. Kris tried talking the mammoth man into letting him go in or at least wait for Adam in the hall. He was told none too nicely to mind his own business and go to his room.
--*--
“What the fuck were you thinking?” the conversation began. It wasn’t starting well.
“I’m sorry, won’t happen again.” Adam looked at his clenched fists, refusing to make eye contact.
“That’s not a fucking answer! What…where…you…thinking?”
“I, I ran into an old friend…from out of state…wanted to catch up.”
“Oh really?” was the snide response. “You wanted to chat and catch up? YOU COULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT HERE?”
“I’m sorry, we, we wanted some, some privacy.”
“That kind of ‘catching up” huh? You thought a blowjob and few hours of sex were worth JEOPARDIZING YOUR CAREER AND THIS FUCKING TOUR?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Adam’s voice cracked, his body shaking under the verbal assault.
“You have no regard for anyone, do you? You don’t care that you could have put this tour in danger, as well as the future of your friends with bad publicity. But who cares about them, right? Just take care of Adam Lambert and screw the consequences!”
“I’m sorry!”
“You do something like this again and you will be sorry, I personally guarantee it! Get the hell out and you better show up for rehearsals in the morning.”
Adam nodded and walked out. He didn’t blame them for being pissed at him. It was a stupid cover story but it was a story where he was in control of what he did.
--*--
Kris was in his room but his door was open, waiting for Adam to be set free. He wished they were roommates again. They had been given separate rooms even though everyone else was sharing. Kris figured it was because of the extra demands on their time as the two finalists; management probably didn’t want to disrupt anyone else with their odd schedules.
The screaming stopped and Kris stuck his head out as Adam left the suite and hurried to his own room, the room next door to Kris.
Adam saw Kris. He reached for his door.
“That sounded intense,” Kris began.
“It was.”
“What were you thinking?”
“I said I was sorry, can we just leave it at that?”
“No, we can’t. You had me worried sick.”
Adam adjusted the scarf around his neck. “I had to get away … it was too much.”
“You could have told them that. They would have helped.”
“No,” Adam lashed back. “They couldn’t help; no one helped me.” Adam disappeared into his room and Kris heard the lock.
--*--
As soon as Adam had disappeared into his room, leaving his friend speechless, Kris went into his own room and immediately heard, he wasn’t sure what, knocking or bumping. He pressed his ear to the paper thin walls. Kris was worried, really worried. Adam had been so strong through this entire competition, a rock everyone depended on. To see him, what, on the verge of breaking, wasn’t normal, wasn’t Adam. There had to be an explanation and he was determined to get one. There was no way he was going to let his best friend implode.
--*--
Lock. Swish. Click. Click. Click. Push. Push. Push. Drag. Drag. Stack. Climb. Wait.