Well Of Nothingness [Kradam] [PG-13]
[title] Well Of Nothingness
[author] Lire Casander
[beta] Unbeta'ed. Any mistakes are my own fault.
[pairing] Adam Lambert/Kris Allen
[rating] PG-13
[word count] 325
[summary] His gaze lingers on the telltale scars circling his wrists, and he sighs.
[disclaimer] I don't own nor have ever met Kris Allen nor Adam Lambert. Everything about them is completely fiction, and any similarity with reality is a mere coincidence.
[warnings] Angst. Implied suicide attempt.
[author's notes] Written for ai_darkfic's Fic-A-Thon, using prompt #1 ~ rain. Thanks to charliebb for prompting me with the first ten pairings!
Drops against the window wake him. He stares blankly at the darkness surrounding him, in this lonely room he is currently occupying. His hand shoots to his left in a reflexive motion he can't help, but he grips thin air and shallowness. He swallows around the thick lump forming in his throat, anxiety and panic rising in his chest. He screws his eyes shut but it isn't helping him to forget - images of a happy past dance before his mind eye, days of sunlight that contrast with the heavy rain now pouring down outside the window and deep inside his soul, eons of singing and hugging and kissing and touching that now mean nothing, nothing, nothing, in the anguished hollow where his heart used to be.
He opens his eyes again to the darkness, reaches out and switches on the lamp on the nightstand. Dim, orange reflections bathe the room, illuminating the raindrops hitting the window, hitting him. He gets up and walks to the window frame, rests his forehead on the cool material as he leans into it, fingers gripping the sharp edges until he draws blood, but he doesn't feel the pain, he is numb to it, he will never feel anything at all again. His gaze lingers on the telltale scars circling his wrists, and he sighs.
When he finally lets his eyes fall close again, standing there in the middle of a cold room, it's Kris' eyes he sees - Kris' smile and Kris' hands, and nothing more, yet it is oddly too much but never enough - and it becomes a spiral of blame and love and bursting hearts until he can't take it anymore and he staggers, breathing hard, as he remembers, remembers, remembers, that Katy got the prize and he was left just alone, despairing and howling, until his voice was hoarse and his skin was broken and his heart was shattered to pieces and scattered on the dirty floor.
[author] Lire Casander
[beta] Unbeta'ed. Any mistakes are my own fault.
[pairing] Adam Lambert/Kris Allen
[rating] PG-13
[word count] 325
[summary] His gaze lingers on the telltale scars circling his wrists, and he sighs.
[disclaimer] I don't own nor have ever met Kris Allen nor Adam Lambert. Everything about them is completely fiction, and any similarity with reality is a mere coincidence.
[warnings] Angst. Implied suicide attempt.
[author's notes] Written for ai_darkfic's Fic-A-Thon, using prompt #1 ~ rain. Thanks to charliebb for prompting me with the first ten pairings!
Drops against the window wake him. He stares blankly at the darkness surrounding him, in this lonely room he is currently occupying. His hand shoots to his left in a reflexive motion he can't help, but he grips thin air and shallowness. He swallows around the thick lump forming in his throat, anxiety and panic rising in his chest. He screws his eyes shut but it isn't helping him to forget - images of a happy past dance before his mind eye, days of sunlight that contrast with the heavy rain now pouring down outside the window and deep inside his soul, eons of singing and hugging and kissing and touching that now mean nothing, nothing, nothing, in the anguished hollow where his heart used to be.
He opens his eyes again to the darkness, reaches out and switches on the lamp on the nightstand. Dim, orange reflections bathe the room, illuminating the raindrops hitting the window, hitting him. He gets up and walks to the window frame, rests his forehead on the cool material as he leans into it, fingers gripping the sharp edges until he draws blood, but he doesn't feel the pain, he is numb to it, he will never feel anything at all again. His gaze lingers on the telltale scars circling his wrists, and he sighs.
When he finally lets his eyes fall close again, standing there in the middle of a cold room, it's Kris' eyes he sees - Kris' smile and Kris' hands, and nothing more, yet it is oddly too much but never enough - and it becomes a spiral of blame and love and bursting hearts until he can't take it anymore and he staggers, breathing hard, as he remembers, remembers, remembers, that Katy got the prize and he was left just alone, despairing and howling, until his voice was hoarse and his skin was broken and his heart was shattered to pieces and scattered on the dirty floor.