AI8 fic: It's a Mad World After All
Title: It’s a Mad World After All
Author: Philote
Fandom: RPF: American Idol 8
Characters/Pairing: Kris & Adam
Rating: PG
Word Count: 8000
Author’s Notes: This is set from Top 9 elimination through Top 8 week. Strictly speaking it’s more friendshippy than relationshippy, though there’s plenty of room for interpretation. There’s a more rambling author’s note below the cut, which I won’t be offended if you skip.
Summary: In which there are short tempers, painful doubts, and a fine line between getting swept up in the opportunity of a lifetime and stressing over it to the point of a breakdown.
oOo
Author’s Notes: I was NOT going to do this. I’d never written RPF before Archuleta & Cook sucked me in last year, and I told myself that there’d never be another David & David so I wouldn’t need to worry about reoccurrence. And yet here I am. Will anyone think less of me of I confess that I was literally biting my nails last night? Apparently I’m even more attached to Kris and Adam than I realized. Anyhow, I haven’t really written anything for months (since my computer took an unfortunate crash and I lost a lot of the stuff I had in progress), and this is the first thing that has flowed for me. It feels good to be back in that zone. Of course, now I’ve got 8000 words on my hands. (And okay, I’ve never written anything this long unless I meant it to be chaptered, so what’s up with this?) I debated whether or not to post it, but I figured I might as well share it. Feedback is welcome.
Disclaimer: They’re not mine; I own no one. No harm is intended. No money changed hands.
1) Please note that this is purely fiction and none of the contents are real except for all or some of the characters used in this story;
2) Most characters used are based on real people but the details within do not purposely imply occurrences in real life; thus, anything here that concurs with real events may be completely coincidental;
3) This is created based solely on the imagination of the author and for non-profitable purpose.
oOo
There’s a definite energy lacking from the mansion the day after Megan leaves. They’re all so close that the dynamic changes with each departure, but there are so few women in the top group that their absence seems even more pronounced. This is especially true of Megan with her unique personality and bubbly, positive attitude.
Kris is sitting at the breakfast table with a less-than-appetizing bowl of cereal. He’s down to the little broken pieces of corn flakes floating around in the milk. He raises the spoon and tips it, watching dispassionately as the milk dribbles back into the bowl.
He glances around to find everyone else looking just as listless. No one seems terribly interested in their breakfast; though Danny is shoveling it in as if there’s comfort to be found there, he doesn’t seem to actually be tasting it. And then there’s Allison, who’s picking at her food and looking a little nauseous. Kris eyes both of them with concern.
He hears footsteps behind him and turns to greet Adam with a nod and brief smile. There’s a well-worn joke begging to be made here, one regarding the time Adam takes to get ready versus the girls. No one speaks anything beyond half-hearted good morning’s.
Adam surveys them with raised eyebrows. “Don’t stop the party on my account, guys.”
It doesn’t get him much response. Adam shrugs as he sets his plate down and settles beside Kris. He takes a few bites before he speaks again, gesturing at Kris with his fork. “How do you feel about traditions?”
Kris stares at him a little warily. Adam’s got a carefully contained look on his face, one that shows only mild curiosity but probably masks mischief. “You mean like Christmas trees and Easter egg hunts?”
“Something like that.” Everyone’s attention is at least partially on them, which is pretty clearly what Adam was going for. “Something for us though, for the eliminations. I know we always do the goodbye dinners, but I think we should add something else. In honor of Megan.”
Kris knows he’s being baited, kind of even suspects where this is going, but somehow he still says, “Like what?”
Adam shrugs, then sets his fork down and pushes his plate aside. In one smooth motion he reaches out to cup a hand around Kris’ chin and pulls him in, planting a loud and somewhat wet kiss just beside his mouth. Close enough, Kris is sure, to look like a lip lock to the others.
Megan’s goodbyes had involved kisses all around. And they weren’t innocent pecks on the cheek (though Lil and Allison had gotten those, and Danny, which showed that Megan was more of a class act than most people seemed to give her credit for). But the rest of the guys had gotten full-on smacks on the lips. It was friendly and all in fun but still weird for Kris, who hadn’t had anyone’s lips on his apart from his wife’s in almost longer than he can clearly remember.
Kris is an affectionate guy okay, perhaps the most easily affectionate here. But this had surprised and discomfited him a bit, prompting awkward laughter and a deep blush that spread from his neck up though blood-red cheeks.
He’s blushing again now, though his laughter’s less uncomfortable. He gives Adam a little shove, one that doesn’t even disrupt his balance. Adam just grins. Kris narrows his gaze, conveying that he knows exactly what the older man is trying to do.
But he can’t really fault him, because it’s working. Everyone’s smiling now, giggles and chatter filling the silence.
Anoop raises a hand like they’re voting. “I don’t think I like that tradition.”
Sweet innocent Allison, meanwhile, is grinning. “I think it’s perfect.” When everyone turns their stares to her she sputters, “I can’t help it! It’s fun to watch!”
Kris groans and makes a show of planting his forehead on the table as even his ears turn red. Adam pets his back consolingly, which Kris suspects really isn’t helping his cause here. But he doesn’t look up, because apparently they are actually going to vote. Matt is loudly in favor, Lil is okay with it, even Scott pipes up to say that hey, he can’t watch, but since his interactions are all based on other sensory experiences he thinks it’s a great idea.
Kris doubts their seriousness, but the fact that a group of mostly guys is even entertaining the notion says an awful lot about their de facto leader. Without lifting his head he rolls his neck until he can deliver a mock glare to Adam who, of course, doesn’t look remotely embarrassed. The older man just smirks and says, “Okay. All in favor?”
oOo
Embarrassing kissing traditions aside, Adam’s open affection doesn’t bother him. If it did, Adam would be much more reserved with him. Kris knows this because that’s how things were at the beginning before they knew each other well. Adam doesn’t make presumptions; he was very respectful of everyone’s space until he knew they were comfortable with him.
In fact it was Kris who’d been the more tactile one at first. It’s just who he is. And Adam, with his leather and black nail polish and oh-so-different world, didn’t scare him off. Once he’d made it clear that he was comfortable, Adam had easily latched onto him in return. And maybe they’re an odd set of roommates, maybe an odder pair of friends, but it works.
Whatever the reasons, by the time they’d been roommates for a week they were totally comfortable in each other’s space. Hugs and pats and friendly pokes and shoves are commonplace. Kris teases about all the products littering their bathroom; Adam makes it a mission to make Kris blush as often as possible.
Kris has never really known anyone like Adam before. He’s unique, to say the least. On stage or in front of a camera, Adam is like a force of nature. There’s a degree to which he’s like that on a more personal level too, though it’s more understated. He’s in a league of his own, onstage and off. Mostly Kris is amused and impressed by that.
Mostly.
oOo
When their day off dawns, he’s thinking it’s the greatest idea ever. It’s one thing to have Katy in the audience week after week and see her occasionally; it will be another to actually get to spend time with her.
Adam offers to get scarce in case Kris wants to use the room for an all-day conjugal visit (Adam’s words, not his). When he laughs and says thanks but they’re going to the beach, Adam shakes his head, calls him ‘precious’ and pats him on the head.
Kris invites him along anyway, but Adam says he has plans.
He also invites Allison, who accepts. He’s been trying to give her some extra attention the last couple of days. He knows she’s still feeling down about Megan’s absence, and he also knows that Katy is an excellent big-sister type.
A couple of hours later they’re at a carnival on a pier playing stupid arcade games and eating junk food. Kris strolls hand in hand with his wife, heading in the general direction of the Ferris wheel he can see towering over everything else. Allison is bubbly and more talkative than she’s been of late, engaging Katy in girly topics.
Or rather, she’s trying to engage. Katy is perfectly polite to her, but she seems a little more reserved than normal. Allison probably doesn’t notice, but Kris does. He wonders if she resents the teenager’s intrusion on their day together, but that seems unlike her.
When they reach the giant wheel, Allison elects to sit it out with the handler. Katy lets Kris tug her up to the base of the ride where the controller stands. The man is eyeing them, or him, rather, as they climb in. Before he restarts the ride he asks, “Hey, you from American Idol?”
Kris smiles and wonders if the rather scary-looking guy is going to present him with a pen and something to sign or criticize his singing. “Yeah, I am.”
“You friends with Adam?”
That throws him for a second, but then his smile comes easier. “I am.”
“I’m a big fan. Tell him I said good luck, huh?”
“I’ll tell him,” he consents with a laugh. The guy gives him a big smile as he sits back and the ride starts. Kris is still chuckling about it as they start ascending.
Katy looks over with a soft smile and leans into him. He takes the cue, angling his head to meet her lips. The ride jolts to a stop at that moment and he misses, the kiss landing rather forcefully on her cheek instead. They both laugh as he pulls back and she rubs at the spot. “Sorry, baby. Remind me to complain about Adam’s biggest fan’s timing when we get off.” And then, because now Adam’s on his mind and because he thinks it’s a funny story, he recounts his last two kisses for her as the ride starts up again.
He’s laughing over it, so he doesn’t really notice when Katy’s smile takes on the painted-on, false quality of their smiles before results nights. She leans back into her side of the little cart, body turned more forward and less towards him. “I don’t see how you guys get along so well,” she muses.
He’s thrown for a second, not following her line of thought. “Me and the Ferris wheel operator?”
“No silly, you and Adam. And you and Allison; all of you.”
He still doesn’t get it, shrugging a little defensively. “Allison’s like a little sister; I don’t see how anyone could not love her. And Adam…”
“I wasn’t attacking them, sweetie,” she cajoles. “I just meant…you guys are in this huge competition. You’re each other’s rivals; you’re all that’s standing between your friends and their dreams. I guess I just expected less till-death-do-we-part friendship and more competitiveness.”
“Well, it isn’t like that. We’re in this together, you know? In fact the less of us there are, the closer we get.”
The Ferris wheel is spinning in constant lazy circles now. She reaches over and takes his hand. “You all feel that way?”
There’s something in her careful tone that sets him on edge. “What are you getting at?”
“You’re such a sweetheart, but not everyone thinks like you. I just worry about people taking advantage of that.”
He shakes his head. “They aren’t like that.”
“They seem great, but you haven’t really known them that long.”
He feels a spark of anger that he doesn’t try hard enough to contain. “So what? You think I’m like the kid in the front of the classroom that no one really likes and makes fun of behind his back? Some idiot that everyone’s using because I’m gullible?”
She seems surprised by the force of his reaction. “No, I wasn’t…I’m sorry I brought it up. I just really want you to do well and I worry, that’s all.”
Is he overreacting? She doesn’t know them like he does. He suddenly understands that she can’t understand. She’s his family, the closest person in the world. Or she should be. But it doesn’t feel that way anymore-because she doesn’t get it. She can’t possibly grasp the full pressure of this competition.
But the other idols, they’re like a family too. And right now, he feels closer to them than the rest of the world. He just hadn’t realized until right now that the rest of the world included his wife.
“I can take care of myself, thanks,” he says as the wheel comes to a stop. It comes out harsher than he’d intended, but he doesn’t take it back.
They meet up with Allison again and get some cotton candy. Her mood quickly adjusts to Kris’ now-quieter demeanor, and she keeps glancing back and forth between them. They’re all pretty subdued for the rest of the afternoon.
By the time he bids goodbye to his wife with a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, avoiding her closed gaze, he’s wondering whose stupid idea this day-off thing was anyway.
oOo
He’s not really a drinker, which translates as not drinking often and not really enjoying it. It doesn’t mean he hasn’t, or that he won’t.
Some of them go out to a club that night, and it is an opportunity he doesn’t pass up. He’s not drunk; he’s hardly even pleasantly buzzed. But he is a little more relaxed and, well, a little giggly.
Matt, who is considerably more inebriated, tries to convince each of them to get up on the table and dance. He’s pretty sure the leer that accompanies the word translates it into ‘striptease.’ Kris, who’s imaging those pictures popping up online, has a brief flash to his earlier conversation with Katy and thinks about how damaging it would be for whoever takes this dare.
It sobers him a little, even though he feels pretty foolish for his suspicion about two minutes later when Matt nearly breaks his neck trying to climb up on the tabletop himself. It takes both Adam and Anoop to get him safely down, at which point they decide it might be a good time to call it a night.
By the time they get back to the mansion, the combination of the alcohol and the earlier junk food is not sitting well. Kris barely makes it to their room and the ridiculously spacious bathroom before he’s throwing up everything he’s consumed on his awesome day off.
After what feels like at least an hour (but is probably in reality only about ten minutes), he hears the outer door to their room open and close.
“Wow, you really aren’t a drinker.”
Kris would love to shoot him a dirty look, but he’s a little busy at the moment. He’s dimly aware of footsteps on the tile and the faucet turning on and off. Then there’s a blessed coolness against the back of his neck. He raises his head enough to identify the damp washcloth and the black fingernails holding it in place. “Thanks,” he murmurs.
“Sure.” Adam’s hand moves to his forehead. It’s still cool from the water, and Kris instinctively leans into it. “Seriously, you didn’t drink that much. Are you sick?”
He’d honestly like that to be the case. He’s a miserable patient, and he could write off his moodiness. “I don’t think so.”
Later, when he feels brave enough to move away from the toilet and manages to get himself ready for bed, Adam helps him get settled and places the trashcan strategically near his head. Kris mumbles another ‘thank you’ as he curls up on his side.
Adam surprises him a little by not retreating to his side of the room. Instead the mattress dips as he settles in on Kris’ other side. He’s not touching him, but he’s close enough to be a warm presence at his back. “When I was little, my mom would stay with me through the night when I was sick. She’d rub my back and tell me stories when I couldn’t sleep.”
Kris is quiet for a bit, because the moment seems to call for it. He finally whispers, “Mine would sing.”
He can hear the smile in Adam’s voice. “Any requests?”
Maybe it’s the alcohol or the aftereffects of the nausea, but this feels surreal. “You sing better than my mom,” he says stupidly.
Adam chuckles a little. “I promise never to tell her you said that.”
“I think she knows. She’s been known to occasionally watch the show.”
“Yeah, right.” Adam nudges him with his knee. “You know she’s probably got parties planned with half the city for every airtime.”
“That was supposed to be a secret,” he fires back with a sleepy smile.
He never requests a song, but Adam starts singing something surprisingly slow and soft under his breath as Kris drifts off.
oOo
Adam goes back to his own bed at some point. Kris knows this because he wakes while it’s still dark and rolls over to connect with the empty space.
He’s coherent enough to realize that it’s a good thing Adam’s not there, because he’d been reaching out for the warmth to cuddle up to it as he would with his wife and, well. That might have been awkward.
But he lays there, fingers twisting in the unoccupied pillowcase, and suddenly feels very alone.
oOo
His phone rings in the morning as he’s trying to psych himself up for the Ford shoot. ‘Mom’ pops up on the Caller ID, so he steps away from the group at the breakfast table to take the call. “Hi, Mom.”
“Good morning sweetheart. Big day today?”
He wonders if she’s been talking to Allison’s mom again. Maybe she’s feeling left out. So he gives her a rundown on his schedule for the day. As he’s talking he pauses in front of a hallway mirror and winces at his reflection. His eyes are tired and pretty red. He fully expects the makeup artists to force eye drops on him.
“Are you all right? You sound a little hoarse. Is your voice okay?”
Yeah, his throat’s a little sore. But he’s not about to tell her why. “I’m fine, Mom,” he says with an eye roll, and crap. He sounds like a 10-year-old.
“All right, honey. I know you can take care of yourself.” She’s totally humoring him. He loves her, but he kind of wants to hang up on her.
Unfortunately she raised him too well for that. “Did you need something?” he asks politely.
“Oh, yes. So…I spoke with Katy.”
Kris closes his eyes and tries not to groan. “Mom…”
“I know you’re an adult, and far be it for me to take sides.” Except that she is; that’s clear from her tone. “She does have a point, sweetheart. I know you always want to think the best of people and you’ve always made friends so easily…”
“Since when is that a bad thing?” he has to put in. He tries to at least be thankful that his mother isn’t lecturing him on who he should and shouldn’t be kissing.
“It isn’t. But you also tend to get hurt because you trust so easily.”
He hears commotion behind him and turns to watch the others coming down the hallway, ready to leave. He steps to the side to let them pass. In his ear, meanwhile, his mother keeps giving him the same talk she had when he was younger and suddenly the smallest in his class and didn’t understand why some of his friends suddenly weren’t his friends anymore.
Adam pauses to give him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. Kris forces a smile and nods that everything’s fine.
Matt, who’s the last one through, gives him a slap on the back that nearly knocks him off balance. “C’mon, Krissy. Time to get funky.” Kris turns to glare at his retreating back, but can’t help his laugh.
“…Kris?”
“Gotta go, Mom,” he says shortly. “Love you; I’ll talk to you later.”
oOo
The theme of this week’s video is “magic show.” Kris suspects a conspiracy.
Allison is the first one in the makeup chair. Kris watches the sparkly façade take shape with at least a tiny bit of dread. This is really not his thing. But she’s excited, chattering at him and Adam. Kris sneaks a sideways look to find Adam smiling back at her in delight.
Of course he is, Kris thinks, because this totally is Adam’s thing. Adam slips into character as easily as he does his too-tight jeans, wearing the makeup and attitude like a second skin. Kris, on the other hand, feels like a little boy playing dress-up with clothes that will never fit.
Adam stands out in whatever scenario they’re given, but this particular one draws all eyes straight to him. In fact, in a particularly nasty moment, Kris wonders if the producers planned this thing to make Adam look like a rock star and the rest of them look like idiots. He wouldn’t put it past them.
Still, Adam in full theatrical mode, with a cape no less, is a mesmerizing sort of thing. Allison is totally holding her own with him, which…ticks Kris off, actually, and he’s not comfortable looking at that reaction very closely. It’s stupid for him to want to be up there with Adam, because that would make him look even more inept by comparison.
Matt is sitting beside him making snarky comments that kind of make Kris want to snap that he’s ruining the mood. He tries to relax instead, because he’s been partnered with Matt and he thinks they’re going to look equally goofy up there in their glitter together, so he can appreciate the guy.
Adam and Allison only need a couple of takes. Kris loses count of how many he and Matt take.
Later, when Danny and Lil are onstage and Matt’s slouched between him and Adam in the audience, Kris watches the animated expression on Adam’s face as he recounts one of the theater stories he never seems to run out of. Kris keeps reaching to rub at his itchy, cakey makeup and Adam keeps reaching over Matt to intercept his hand without even breaking rhythm in the storytelling. Kris has the petulant thought that he doesn’t need to be treated like a child by his wife or his mother or the next American Idol.
Which, he suddenly realizes with a strange sense of certainty, Adam almost unquestionably is.
oOo
He doesn’t sleep much the night before the performance show. He can’t seem to shut off his thoughts.
Adam tosses and turns for a while before he goes to sleep; maybe that’s why he’s Kris’s main focus. That feeling of certainty settles over him again. But now it has time to grow and mutate into something uglier.
He’s heard Adam rehearse. He’s been entranced enough by the simple voice and song-and that’s without the benefit of the band or lighting effects or the general ambiance of the crowded performance hall. He knows Adam’s going to blow everyone away.
That in itself isn’t exactly new. But the way Kris is feeling about it is. He tries to ignore it and then spends a lot of time refusing to name it. When he finally does, he realizes it is resentment…and at least a little jealousy.
It’s not Adam’s fault he’s infuriatingly awesome. Except…okay, maybe it is, but it isn’t his fault that Kris suddenly finds the awesomeness infuriating. And he genuinely likes Adam too much to feel anything but ashamed.
He’s nothing like Adam in musicality or voice or looks. He knows he’s got a whole different appeal. Still, it’s hard not to feel inferior. That in turn is breeding doubt.
He doesn’t want to be Adam; he knows far better than to try. He just doesn’t want who he is to not be enough to even compete with Adam.
He knew he wanted this-the cliché of the American Idol dream and all that goes with it-but it suddenly feels like a desperate ache deep inside. This is his future. As distant as he feels from her right now, Katy is counting on him. He doesn’t want to let her or himself down. To come this far and get voted off before Top 5 and fade into obscurity, or to get this much exposure and then screw up and possibly not be able to get a record deal…the possibilities suddenly seem more frightening than they did just last week.
He doesn’t feel all that confident about his song choice, either. Looking back now he wonders why he settled on it. Maybe it’s not too late to change it.
In the next breath he’s telling himself that thought is stupid. He needs to do something upbeat. He’s rehearsed this song, learned to play it; he has to keep it.
Even if he does have a really bad feeling about it.
oOo
Boring. Self-indulgent. Stupid.
The words reverberate in his mind as he makes his way backstage. He’s heard them before, of course, just not in reference to him. Actually it’s pretty tame by Simon’s standards; he should probably be grateful.
The smile stays pasted on, the laughter a little wooden as he accepts everyone’s words of comfort. He blindly heads for the couch.
After a while, he’s dimly aware that someone has come to sit beside him. He glances over to find Adam studying him. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he returns, summoning the fake smile again. It sounds nice and detached but it must lack for something, because the concern in Adam’s eyes deepens and he moves closer to rub a hand across his shoulders.
“It’s just one song, one critique. Your fans are still there.”
He can’t take it right now; the concern, the platitudes, or the touch. He just can’t. He shrugs away from Adam, standing abruptly.
“Good luck,” he says shortly, and it comes out like he means the opposite. He hears the bitterness in his voice, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “Not that you need it.”
Adam blinks up at him, taken aback. Kris hates himself a little. He turns and slips away, locking himself in the bathroom before he can do any more damage.
oOo
“Do people really not like me?”
Kris doesn’t overreact to the question, mostly because he’s kind of been expecting it. Allison’s got a very cool exterior that she shows to most people. Her insecurities only crop up with those she feels closest to, those she really seems to trust. He’s honored that she counts him among those. He just hopes his own mood doesn’t bleed into her.
He hooks an arm around her neck and tugs her close. “Everyone I know likes you.”
They’re alone in the hallway, everyone else still downstairs as he walks her to her room. He knows the others all knew what was on her mind, but they respected her enough to give them the space. Of course, it might not be all about her. He’s been quiet and broody and avoiding Adam. Considering the way they usually are with each other, he’s sure the change was noticeable.
Allison leans into him. “Thanks, but everyone you know is barely a fraction of the voting public.”
“You shouldn’t listen to Simon.”
“See, people think that. But the truth is that everyone listens to Simon, and the others. What they say counts.”
“Yes, if it’s about your song. Then, as an artist, you should listen. But song critique is one thing, and personality critique is another. Hey, a few weeks ago they told me I needed self-confidence, and look how that turned out. Now I’m so self-indulgent I’m losing myself in the song.” He’s not sure that even makes sense.
Allison gets indignant on his behalf. “You are not. You shouldn’t listen to them.”
He gives her a look.
She stares at him for a moment, and then rolls her eyes. “Right, okay. Sorry for the hypocritical moment, there.”
He stops and takes her by the shoulders, forcing her to listen. “You’re a beautiful person and an awesome artist, and America sees that. Don’t go changing.”
“Thanks.” She’s young enough to take that without arrogance or embarrassment. She just blinks up at him with those big eyes. “So are you, you know.”
“I had a bad night,” he shrugs and delivers the line like it’s no big deal. She smiles at him and bids him goodnight while he thinks wow, he’s a better actor than he thought.
He does have to listen, because his was song critique. At least, he hopes Simon was referring to his song and not calling him stupid. Though really, a stupid song means a stupid choice, which logically follows back to a stupid choice-maker. He’s not so stupid he can’t connect those dots.
He doesn’t want to talk to Katy. He toys with the idea of not calling. But he always calls; he’s not quite ready for the statement that breaking that habit would make.
“I thought you were good,” she says immediately, loyally indignant.
He gives a dry little laugh. “Yeah, that’s why you’re not in the music business babe.”
Her laugh sounds equally forced. “Right. Sorry. Still, it wasn’t as bad as they made it out to be.”
“Have you and Mom been discussing it?”
She hesitates, her voice quiet. “You know I talk to your mother about almost everything. Especially now, with you locked in that mansion all the time. You’ve got your new friends…”
“And you’ve got our old friends! And my family, apparently!”
There are several beats of dead silence. “I sort of thought they were my family too.”
He feels like something’s being ripped apart inside him. “I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry; I’ve got to go.” He hangs up before she can say anything else. Then he throws the phone against the wall.
There’s an ominous crack, and more than one piece falls to the carpet.
By the time he gets back to his room, he’s literally shaking with emotion. When he slams the door a little too hard, Adam emerges from the bathroom with toothbrush in hand. Kris glances at him and then gives him a wide berth as he crosses to his own bed.
“Everything okay?”
No, actually, nothing’s feeling okay at the moment. “Fine,” he says aloud.
“Kristopher.”
As a general rule, he doesn’t like it when people use his full name. It’s like an intimate thing that belongs in his family. He doesn’t really even like it when Katy uses it. But he’s let Adam get away with it a few times, maybe because with him it was never formal or mocking but rather familiar.
This isn’t one of those times. “Just drop it,” he snaps.
There’s a long pause. “All right, man.” He hears Adam step up behind him. Kris holds carefully still, but all that comes is the light whisper of a touch to his right shoulder. Then Adam’s gone, heading back for the bathroom. Still Kris stands there, jaw clenched against the sudden lump in his throat.
oOo
He sleeps more this night than the last, though it’s even less restful. It’s filled with unsettling dreams and nightmare scenarios, some of which revolve around bottom three or being voted off, some which involve Katy or his mom or his friends. Come morning he’s exhausted and fairly miserable.
But he feels worst for taking his issues out on Adam. He thinks maybe he should feel worst for everything with Katy, but that’s something he can deal with later. Adam is here, now. And yes, he’s unbelievably talented and wildly popular and probably going to win. He’s also quite possibly the best friend Kris has ever had, and he realizes he doesn’t want to sacrifice that for his own insecurities…or for anything, if fact.
Adam’s giving him silence and a respectful distance, but he’s not purposefully avoiding him. That Adam manages to keep right on being awesome while Kris is pissed off is…well, he wants it to be annoying, but all it really does is make him feel even worse. They go about their well-rehearsed morning routine, just with less chatter and teasing and more awkward glances at each other. Every time their eyes meet Kris has to look away.
Before they head down to breakfast Kris retrieves the pieces of his phone from the floor where he’d dumped them last night. He spends pointless minutes trying to fit it back together and pushing at buttons, hoping for signs of life. He resigns himself to the fact that it’s dead and automatically glances at Adam, wanting to commiserate.
Adam’s watching him with a similar sideways glance, a curious look. When their eyes meet he raises an eyebrow slightly.
Kris recognizes the invitation to talk if he wants or ignore if he doesn’t. He fiddles with the pieces for a long moment. “I may need a new phone.”
Adam turns to face him fully. “I don’t suppose it fell apart from overuse.”
“It had some help.” He’s not usually given to fits of temper. He tosses the evidence into the garbage can. Only then he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and he fidgets. “Look…I’m sorry I…” he starts to say ‘snapped at you,’ but he knows he owes apology for more than that. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk.”
Adam studies him, and Kris tries to look contrite. He thinks he gets pathetic instead, especially when Adam’s smile holds more concern than levity. “Don’t worry about it. We’re okay.”
Kris blinks, because it can’t be that easy. “Really?”
Adam gives him a little smile. “Did you want me to be mad?”
“No, but…” he sighs in frustration. “You have a right to be.”
“Kris, I don’t know what’s going on in your head. But from my point of view? You’ve been quiet and moody and maybe a little rude. Out of character, sure, but nothing for me to really be angry over. Believe me, I’ve been treated worse.”
“I’m sorry,” Kris says again, though even he’s not sure what he’s apologizing for anymore.
“All right,” Adam says with a little laugh as he stands, coming over to him. “I am worried about you, though.”
Kris shrugs, looking away uncomfortably. “I’m okay.”
“Sure you are. Did you sleep at all?”
“Geez, I look that bad?”
“Nothing a little makeup won’t cure.” He waggles an eyebrow in question.
Kris’ laugh is real, peppered with relief at the ease of it. “Sure, fine. Make me pretty.”
“You’re already pretty.” Adam reaches out to teasingly pinch his cheek. Kris squirms and blushes despite himself, bringing a genuine smile to Adam’s lips as well. “Hey, millions of teenaged girls-and, I’m sure, more than a few boys-can’t be wrong.”
Kris rolls his eyes. “Right. Maybe I should go out there, dark circles and all, and see if they still think I can sing.”
Adam gives him a look, then grabs his wrist and tugs him to the bathroom. He doesn’t say anything until he’s sat Kris down on the closed toilet and gone to work with a stick of something that looks vaguely like lipstick, only in skin color. Kris thinks he should be getting used to makeup by now, but it’s not really happening.
“We’ll get you fixed up. On the outside at least,” Adam says pointedly.
Kris shifts uncomfortably and gets a hand planted on top of his head to keep him still. “I’m okay. I think I just need to survive tonight.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“I should. I want to stay because of my talent, because I deserve to be here. Not because I’m pretty.”
Adam tilts his chin, catching his eyes with a piercing gaze. “You can sing. You know that. But if you need to hear it, I’m happy to help you out.” Kris stares at him in surprise, and Adam smirks. “What? I told you your fans were still there.”
Kris can’t seem to compose a coherent response, teasing or otherwise. It’s possible he may still be staring. Adam reaches out to give him a teasing tap on the jaw, closing his mouth. “Chin up, Krissy. You’re not going anywhere.”
So Kris puts on a brave face, figuratively and literally, and goes down to breakfast where Matt leans close and pokes at his cheek. “Are you wearing makeup?”
oOo
When show time finally rolls around he’s a nervous wreck and expending all that’s left of his energy on hiding it. His face is starting to hurt from the smile he’s plastered on.
When Ryan has him stand with Adam he knows that can’t be good. But then he has Anoop stand up too, and a flicker of hope nearly makes him shudder. He feels like a bastard for it, but it’s still there.
Then Adam is safe, of course he is, and Kris’s congratulations are real and heartfelt. But when Adam sits he immediately misses the strong presence standing at his side. He locks his knees and carefully studies a spot on the ground as he waits for the verdict.
When it finally comes, when he’s pronounced safe, a wave of something goes through him and leaves him cold. If it’s relief, it’s a little sickening in it’s force.
Anoop is past him before he’s summoned enough composure to speak. Adam catches him up in a hug though, so Kris gets a moment to place a hand on his arm in a weak offer of consolation. He gets an even weaker attempt at a smile in return before Anoop is off and across the stage. Kris doesn’t realize he’s still standing there like a moron until Adam has to grab his hand and tug him back into his seat.
Then they’ve gone to commercial and Danny’s sliding across the now-vacant seat to give him a hug. “Congratulations, man.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Kris replies absently. The fake smile is back, twisting his lips automatically to keep his real emotions from showing through.
The others all turn around from the bottom couch to offer their own congratulations, though everyone’s smiles are a little tight. Anoop’s performance last night shouldn’t have earned him that seat, so who else may be in unexpected jeopardy? The nerves are reflected in all their faces. In fact, the only one who’s not looking at least a little terrified is the only other one who’s safe.
Adam gives him a smile and a light squeeze on the shoulder. Kris responds with a grateful look.
His eyes then drift to the audience, unconsciously seeking Katy. It’s hard to see well enough to make eye contact from here, but he knows where she’s sitting, and he manages. She’s staring at him, apparently waiting for him to look. Normally he’d get a wave or a kiss blown his way. Tonight she just nods and gives him what from this distance looks like a sad smile.
He draws in a shuddering breath and pulls his focus back to the stage. Adam lets his hand slip down to rest on his lower back, out of sightline for the cameras but enough to offer support.
Kris leans into him ever-so-slightly and tries to steel himself to last the rest of the show.
oOo
Scott’s is perhaps the hardest goodbye yet. They don’t do the kissing thing, but there are weepy hugs all around. And Kris loves Scott as much as the rest of them and hates to see him go, but somehow his eyes are the only ones that remain dry.
He’s exhausted and feels like he’s just going through the motions. It’s another thing in what’s becoming a long line of things he’s not proud of. He watches the door close behind Scott and feels an empty sort of ache in the pit of his stomach.
When Allison turns to bury her face in his chest and leans into him with most of her weight, he very nearly falls over. It’s only Adam standing behind them and grabbing his shoulders that saves them. Allison doesn’t seem to notice, so Kris just pats her on the back consolingly and angles a thankful glance over his shoulder.
Eventually she lets go, moving to hug Lil. But Adam seems afraid to let go of Kris, like he might topple over if the breeze blows this way. He thinks he might. So he just stands there and lets Adam manhandle him like a 5 year old up past his bedtime.
When they’re alone in the room and the first thing Adam says is, “So. Your wife pretty much ordered me to look after you,” Kris really has no response for it.
“Oh,” is all he manages while he watches Adam peel off jacket and shoes. Eventually he shakes himself a little and adds, “Sorry about that? I’ve tried to explain that we’re all a little stressed out and it’s perfectly normal in this kind of pressure cooker-“
“Okay, first, don’t apologize for having people who love you enough to worry. Second, yeah, we’re all dealing with that stress. But most of us haven’t spent the last couple of days walking around like we’re trapped in 60-pound suits of armor.” Adam plops down on Kris’s bed, tugging him down in front of him. “Come here; you’re strung tighter than your guitar.”
“When have you been touching my guitar?” Kris mumbles, because he really has nothing else to say.
“Relax Krissy, I’d never touch without your permission.” And then there are strong fingers kneading his stiff shoulders, gently but firmly digging into tight muscles. “Seriously, relax.”
Adam’s really good at this. Kris chooses to think it’s from theater relaxation exercises. He’s sticking with that theory. Whatever-it feels good, painful but in a good way.
It creates a problem though, the same problem he had right after his performance. The caring human contact is too much for his tenuous control. That distance he’d felt downstairs is gone in an instant, walls crumbling and emotion pouring back into the numbness. The tears he’d been missing are suddenly a full-force pressure behind his eyes.
What had he expected? One mere touch had nearly undone him last night; this is about a thousand times that. Still, much as he doesn’t want the control to break, he doesn’t pull away. Not even when Adam hits a particularly sensitive spot, prompting a gasp that somehow comes out as a choked sob.
Adam’s hands still. “Kris?”
He can’t answer. He just shakes his head a little and brings a hand up to cover his face.
“Hey…” Adam shifts, sliding around to his side with far more grace than someone with such a long body should possess. They’re quiet for a long moment, Kris’ shaky breaths the only sound between them. Then gentle fingers grasp his wrist, tugging the hand away. Adam’s leaning forward, trying to catch his eye. “Do you really believe I’ll think any less of you for a few tears?”
Of course he won’t, so that’s not the issue. “I think less of me,” he confesses.
“That’s because you’re an idiot,” Adam responds easily, the insult laden with affection.
Kris chokes on a burst of laughter, making it more of a disgusting snort. He swallows hard a few times until he trusts his voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Adam nods like he’s making perfect sense. All he says is “Come here, idiot.” He slips an arm around him and tugs.
Kris doesn’t have the strength to resist, even if he wanted to. Adam tucks him against his shoulder and Kris buries his face. This close, he can feel the vibrations as Adam speaks. “There’s nothing wrong with you, okay? You’re just stressed to a breaking point and exhausted on top of it.”
Kris draws in another shuddering breath, then another. Adam rubs his back soothingly. Kris tries to soak in the comfort, but he’s still trying to force back the tears.
After several long minutes of this Adam pushes him away, and Kris makes a vague sound of protest that’s a little embarrassing. But Adam keeps him close, looking him in the eye. “Do you trust me?”
Kris tries to blink the blurriness from his vision and feels a couple of tears spill over. He sucks in another shaky breath. “Yeah.”
Adam gives him a little shake. “Then let go. I know it’s not easy, but you’ll feel better. I promise.” He pulls him in again and this time Kris latches on, fingers curling in the back of Adam’s shirt.
Then he’s sobbing like a child, and he still feels kind of embarrassed about it, but Adam’s hanging onto him and whispering that it’s okay. And somehow he dares to believe that it might be.
oOo
When he wakes, it’s to a sunlight-flooded room and a fully dressed roommate trying to move around quietly. Adam notices him moving and smiles. “Hey, you are alive under there.”
He sounds entirely too chipper. Kris grunts a vague “um-hmm,” blinking blearily in the light. He feels sluggish and not quite awake yet, so he just rolls over and burrows back into the pillow.
“Hey, none of that. Up and at ‘em, Sunshine.”
Kris makes a sound that’s a weird mix of groan and whimper and pulls the sheet over his head.
“It’s nearly noon.”
“Is not,” he counters in disbelief, lowering the sheet just enough to see the clock. 11:48. “Ugh.” He retreats back under the covers, now wanting to face the world even less. If they’ve let him sleep this long, odds are someone said something about him really needing it. He’s not sure he’s up for concerned looks and questions.
“Kristopher…” Adam sing-songs, and his voice is closer now. Kris feels the bed dip beside him just before cool fingers crawl up the back of his neck.
Kris swats at the hand. “Go away,” he instructs, but even he can hear the smile in his voice. His throat kind of hurts, his eyes are sore and his nose is a little clogged, and he wonders if he should point out that he’s feeling worse than he did before the whole crying episode. Except he knows Adam meant emotionally, and in those terms, he’s surprised to find that he actually does kind of feel better.
Adam heaves an overdramatic sigh. “I suppose I could leave you here. But then you’d miss all the fun, and I’d feel terribly guilty about it.” A hand strokes his spine soothingly, and Kris should probably tell him that all that will accomplish is putting him back to sleep. It’s lulling, and he lets his eyes slip shut again.
He’s not coherent enough to realize that the hand has left his back until Adam speaks again. “Besides, it’s more fun with you around.” Fingers abruptly scrabble at his side. Suddenly he’s wide awake because he’s horribly ticklish, and how the hell did Adam know that?
This sound is a mix of yelp and giggle, and he’s upright with his back to the headboard in two seconds flat. Adam’s grin is downright devious. “I’m going to remember that. I might need it again.” He wiggles his fingers threateningly.
“You play dirty,” Kris pouts.
“Oh, my sweet naïve roommate. You haven’t begun to see dirty.”
Kris feels his face redden, shaking his head as he just laughs.
Adam’s watching him with a fond expression. “Want to hear my philosophy?”
“Unless it involves tickling.”
“I suppose it could if you want.” Adam pinches his knee to make the point and Kris kicks at him. “Seriously, you’ve got to have fun with this. Not just the ‘Idol Experience,’” here he makes a ridiculous face and spreads his arms in a grandiose gesture, and Kris snickers, “but the whole business. If you aren’t having fun, if you don’t believe in it, then it’s not worth doing. And the audience will know it as well as you do.”
“I love making music,” Kris confesses softly, simple but painfully honest.
Adam’s smile is gentle. “I know. I can tell. Anyone who’s seen you perform can tell. Just don’t let all the crap of the details or all the meddling personalities come between you and that love.”
Kris thinks it over, tucks it all away for further thought, then leans back against the pillow. “How did you get so smart?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Adam laughs. “And you know I’ve been at this performing thing for a long time.” He gives Kris’s leg a little squeeze as he stands and offers a hand. “Now come on. We’ve got a photo shoot, and someone definitely needs a makeover.” Kris groans and rolls his eyes in complaint.
Then he takes the hand with a smile.
oOo
Author: Philote
Fandom: RPF: American Idol 8
Characters/Pairing: Kris & Adam
Rating: PG
Word Count: 8000
Author’s Notes: This is set from Top 9 elimination through Top 8 week. Strictly speaking it’s more friendshippy than relationshippy, though there’s plenty of room for interpretation. There’s a more rambling author’s note below the cut, which I won’t be offended if you skip.
Summary: In which there are short tempers, painful doubts, and a fine line between getting swept up in the opportunity of a lifetime and stressing over it to the point of a breakdown.
oOo
Author’s Notes: I was NOT going to do this. I’d never written RPF before Archuleta & Cook sucked me in last year, and I told myself that there’d never be another David & David so I wouldn’t need to worry about reoccurrence. And yet here I am. Will anyone think less of me of I confess that I was literally biting my nails last night? Apparently I’m even more attached to Kris and Adam than I realized. Anyhow, I haven’t really written anything for months (since my computer took an unfortunate crash and I lost a lot of the stuff I had in progress), and this is the first thing that has flowed for me. It feels good to be back in that zone. Of course, now I’ve got 8000 words on my hands. (And okay, I’ve never written anything this long unless I meant it to be chaptered, so what’s up with this?) I debated whether or not to post it, but I figured I might as well share it. Feedback is welcome.
Disclaimer: They’re not mine; I own no one. No harm is intended. No money changed hands.
1) Please note that this is purely fiction and none of the contents are real except for all or some of the characters used in this story;
2) Most characters used are based on real people but the details within do not purposely imply occurrences in real life; thus, anything here that concurs with real events may be completely coincidental;
3) This is created based solely on the imagination of the author and for non-profitable purpose.
oOo
There’s a definite energy lacking from the mansion the day after Megan leaves. They’re all so close that the dynamic changes with each departure, but there are so few women in the top group that their absence seems even more pronounced. This is especially true of Megan with her unique personality and bubbly, positive attitude.
Kris is sitting at the breakfast table with a less-than-appetizing bowl of cereal. He’s down to the little broken pieces of corn flakes floating around in the milk. He raises the spoon and tips it, watching dispassionately as the milk dribbles back into the bowl.
He glances around to find everyone else looking just as listless. No one seems terribly interested in their breakfast; though Danny is shoveling it in as if there’s comfort to be found there, he doesn’t seem to actually be tasting it. And then there’s Allison, who’s picking at her food and looking a little nauseous. Kris eyes both of them with concern.
He hears footsteps behind him and turns to greet Adam with a nod and brief smile. There’s a well-worn joke begging to be made here, one regarding the time Adam takes to get ready versus the girls. No one speaks anything beyond half-hearted good morning’s.
Adam surveys them with raised eyebrows. “Don’t stop the party on my account, guys.”
It doesn’t get him much response. Adam shrugs as he sets his plate down and settles beside Kris. He takes a few bites before he speaks again, gesturing at Kris with his fork. “How do you feel about traditions?”
Kris stares at him a little warily. Adam’s got a carefully contained look on his face, one that shows only mild curiosity but probably masks mischief. “You mean like Christmas trees and Easter egg hunts?”
“Something like that.” Everyone’s attention is at least partially on them, which is pretty clearly what Adam was going for. “Something for us though, for the eliminations. I know we always do the goodbye dinners, but I think we should add something else. In honor of Megan.”
Kris knows he’s being baited, kind of even suspects where this is going, but somehow he still says, “Like what?”
Adam shrugs, then sets his fork down and pushes his plate aside. In one smooth motion he reaches out to cup a hand around Kris’ chin and pulls him in, planting a loud and somewhat wet kiss just beside his mouth. Close enough, Kris is sure, to look like a lip lock to the others.
Megan’s goodbyes had involved kisses all around. And they weren’t innocent pecks on the cheek (though Lil and Allison had gotten those, and Danny, which showed that Megan was more of a class act than most people seemed to give her credit for). But the rest of the guys had gotten full-on smacks on the lips. It was friendly and all in fun but still weird for Kris, who hadn’t had anyone’s lips on his apart from his wife’s in almost longer than he can clearly remember.
Kris is an affectionate guy okay, perhaps the most easily affectionate here. But this had surprised and discomfited him a bit, prompting awkward laughter and a deep blush that spread from his neck up though blood-red cheeks.
He’s blushing again now, though his laughter’s less uncomfortable. He gives Adam a little shove, one that doesn’t even disrupt his balance. Adam just grins. Kris narrows his gaze, conveying that he knows exactly what the older man is trying to do.
But he can’t really fault him, because it’s working. Everyone’s smiling now, giggles and chatter filling the silence.
Anoop raises a hand like they’re voting. “I don’t think I like that tradition.”
Sweet innocent Allison, meanwhile, is grinning. “I think it’s perfect.” When everyone turns their stares to her she sputters, “I can’t help it! It’s fun to watch!”
Kris groans and makes a show of planting his forehead on the table as even his ears turn red. Adam pets his back consolingly, which Kris suspects really isn’t helping his cause here. But he doesn’t look up, because apparently they are actually going to vote. Matt is loudly in favor, Lil is okay with it, even Scott pipes up to say that hey, he can’t watch, but since his interactions are all based on other sensory experiences he thinks it’s a great idea.
Kris doubts their seriousness, but the fact that a group of mostly guys is even entertaining the notion says an awful lot about their de facto leader. Without lifting his head he rolls his neck until he can deliver a mock glare to Adam who, of course, doesn’t look remotely embarrassed. The older man just smirks and says, “Okay. All in favor?”
oOo
Embarrassing kissing traditions aside, Adam’s open affection doesn’t bother him. If it did, Adam would be much more reserved with him. Kris knows this because that’s how things were at the beginning before they knew each other well. Adam doesn’t make presumptions; he was very respectful of everyone’s space until he knew they were comfortable with him.
In fact it was Kris who’d been the more tactile one at first. It’s just who he is. And Adam, with his leather and black nail polish and oh-so-different world, didn’t scare him off. Once he’d made it clear that he was comfortable, Adam had easily latched onto him in return. And maybe they’re an odd set of roommates, maybe an odder pair of friends, but it works.
Whatever the reasons, by the time they’d been roommates for a week they were totally comfortable in each other’s space. Hugs and pats and friendly pokes and shoves are commonplace. Kris teases about all the products littering their bathroom; Adam makes it a mission to make Kris blush as often as possible.
Kris has never really known anyone like Adam before. He’s unique, to say the least. On stage or in front of a camera, Adam is like a force of nature. There’s a degree to which he’s like that on a more personal level too, though it’s more understated. He’s in a league of his own, onstage and off. Mostly Kris is amused and impressed by that.
Mostly.
oOo
When their day off dawns, he’s thinking it’s the greatest idea ever. It’s one thing to have Katy in the audience week after week and see her occasionally; it will be another to actually get to spend time with her.
Adam offers to get scarce in case Kris wants to use the room for an all-day conjugal visit (Adam’s words, not his). When he laughs and says thanks but they’re going to the beach, Adam shakes his head, calls him ‘precious’ and pats him on the head.
Kris invites him along anyway, but Adam says he has plans.
He also invites Allison, who accepts. He’s been trying to give her some extra attention the last couple of days. He knows she’s still feeling down about Megan’s absence, and he also knows that Katy is an excellent big-sister type.
A couple of hours later they’re at a carnival on a pier playing stupid arcade games and eating junk food. Kris strolls hand in hand with his wife, heading in the general direction of the Ferris wheel he can see towering over everything else. Allison is bubbly and more talkative than she’s been of late, engaging Katy in girly topics.
Or rather, she’s trying to engage. Katy is perfectly polite to her, but she seems a little more reserved than normal. Allison probably doesn’t notice, but Kris does. He wonders if she resents the teenager’s intrusion on their day together, but that seems unlike her.
When they reach the giant wheel, Allison elects to sit it out with the handler. Katy lets Kris tug her up to the base of the ride where the controller stands. The man is eyeing them, or him, rather, as they climb in. Before he restarts the ride he asks, “Hey, you from American Idol?”
Kris smiles and wonders if the rather scary-looking guy is going to present him with a pen and something to sign or criticize his singing. “Yeah, I am.”
“You friends with Adam?”
That throws him for a second, but then his smile comes easier. “I am.”
“I’m a big fan. Tell him I said good luck, huh?”
“I’ll tell him,” he consents with a laugh. The guy gives him a big smile as he sits back and the ride starts. Kris is still chuckling about it as they start ascending.
Katy looks over with a soft smile and leans into him. He takes the cue, angling his head to meet her lips. The ride jolts to a stop at that moment and he misses, the kiss landing rather forcefully on her cheek instead. They both laugh as he pulls back and she rubs at the spot. “Sorry, baby. Remind me to complain about Adam’s biggest fan’s timing when we get off.” And then, because now Adam’s on his mind and because he thinks it’s a funny story, he recounts his last two kisses for her as the ride starts up again.
He’s laughing over it, so he doesn’t really notice when Katy’s smile takes on the painted-on, false quality of their smiles before results nights. She leans back into her side of the little cart, body turned more forward and less towards him. “I don’t see how you guys get along so well,” she muses.
He’s thrown for a second, not following her line of thought. “Me and the Ferris wheel operator?”
“No silly, you and Adam. And you and Allison; all of you.”
He still doesn’t get it, shrugging a little defensively. “Allison’s like a little sister; I don’t see how anyone could not love her. And Adam…”
“I wasn’t attacking them, sweetie,” she cajoles. “I just meant…you guys are in this huge competition. You’re each other’s rivals; you’re all that’s standing between your friends and their dreams. I guess I just expected less till-death-do-we-part friendship and more competitiveness.”
“Well, it isn’t like that. We’re in this together, you know? In fact the less of us there are, the closer we get.”
The Ferris wheel is spinning in constant lazy circles now. She reaches over and takes his hand. “You all feel that way?”
There’s something in her careful tone that sets him on edge. “What are you getting at?”
“You’re such a sweetheart, but not everyone thinks like you. I just worry about people taking advantage of that.”
He shakes his head. “They aren’t like that.”
“They seem great, but you haven’t really known them that long.”
He feels a spark of anger that he doesn’t try hard enough to contain. “So what? You think I’m like the kid in the front of the classroom that no one really likes and makes fun of behind his back? Some idiot that everyone’s using because I’m gullible?”
She seems surprised by the force of his reaction. “No, I wasn’t…I’m sorry I brought it up. I just really want you to do well and I worry, that’s all.”
Is he overreacting? She doesn’t know them like he does. He suddenly understands that she can’t understand. She’s his family, the closest person in the world. Or she should be. But it doesn’t feel that way anymore-because she doesn’t get it. She can’t possibly grasp the full pressure of this competition.
But the other idols, they’re like a family too. And right now, he feels closer to them than the rest of the world. He just hadn’t realized until right now that the rest of the world included his wife.
“I can take care of myself, thanks,” he says as the wheel comes to a stop. It comes out harsher than he’d intended, but he doesn’t take it back.
They meet up with Allison again and get some cotton candy. Her mood quickly adjusts to Kris’ now-quieter demeanor, and she keeps glancing back and forth between them. They’re all pretty subdued for the rest of the afternoon.
By the time he bids goodbye to his wife with a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, avoiding her closed gaze, he’s wondering whose stupid idea this day-off thing was anyway.
oOo
He’s not really a drinker, which translates as not drinking often and not really enjoying it. It doesn’t mean he hasn’t, or that he won’t.
Some of them go out to a club that night, and it is an opportunity he doesn’t pass up. He’s not drunk; he’s hardly even pleasantly buzzed. But he is a little more relaxed and, well, a little giggly.
Matt, who is considerably more inebriated, tries to convince each of them to get up on the table and dance. He’s pretty sure the leer that accompanies the word translates it into ‘striptease.’ Kris, who’s imaging those pictures popping up online, has a brief flash to his earlier conversation with Katy and thinks about how damaging it would be for whoever takes this dare.
It sobers him a little, even though he feels pretty foolish for his suspicion about two minutes later when Matt nearly breaks his neck trying to climb up on the tabletop himself. It takes both Adam and Anoop to get him safely down, at which point they decide it might be a good time to call it a night.
By the time they get back to the mansion, the combination of the alcohol and the earlier junk food is not sitting well. Kris barely makes it to their room and the ridiculously spacious bathroom before he’s throwing up everything he’s consumed on his awesome day off.
After what feels like at least an hour (but is probably in reality only about ten minutes), he hears the outer door to their room open and close.
“Wow, you really aren’t a drinker.”
Kris would love to shoot him a dirty look, but he’s a little busy at the moment. He’s dimly aware of footsteps on the tile and the faucet turning on and off. Then there’s a blessed coolness against the back of his neck. He raises his head enough to identify the damp washcloth and the black fingernails holding it in place. “Thanks,” he murmurs.
“Sure.” Adam’s hand moves to his forehead. It’s still cool from the water, and Kris instinctively leans into it. “Seriously, you didn’t drink that much. Are you sick?”
He’d honestly like that to be the case. He’s a miserable patient, and he could write off his moodiness. “I don’t think so.”
Later, when he feels brave enough to move away from the toilet and manages to get himself ready for bed, Adam helps him get settled and places the trashcan strategically near his head. Kris mumbles another ‘thank you’ as he curls up on his side.
Adam surprises him a little by not retreating to his side of the room. Instead the mattress dips as he settles in on Kris’ other side. He’s not touching him, but he’s close enough to be a warm presence at his back. “When I was little, my mom would stay with me through the night when I was sick. She’d rub my back and tell me stories when I couldn’t sleep.”
Kris is quiet for a bit, because the moment seems to call for it. He finally whispers, “Mine would sing.”
He can hear the smile in Adam’s voice. “Any requests?”
Maybe it’s the alcohol or the aftereffects of the nausea, but this feels surreal. “You sing better than my mom,” he says stupidly.
Adam chuckles a little. “I promise never to tell her you said that.”
“I think she knows. She’s been known to occasionally watch the show.”
“Yeah, right.” Adam nudges him with his knee. “You know she’s probably got parties planned with half the city for every airtime.”
“That was supposed to be a secret,” he fires back with a sleepy smile.
He never requests a song, but Adam starts singing something surprisingly slow and soft under his breath as Kris drifts off.
oOo
Adam goes back to his own bed at some point. Kris knows this because he wakes while it’s still dark and rolls over to connect with the empty space.
He’s coherent enough to realize that it’s a good thing Adam’s not there, because he’d been reaching out for the warmth to cuddle up to it as he would with his wife and, well. That might have been awkward.
But he lays there, fingers twisting in the unoccupied pillowcase, and suddenly feels very alone.
oOo
His phone rings in the morning as he’s trying to psych himself up for the Ford shoot. ‘Mom’ pops up on the Caller ID, so he steps away from the group at the breakfast table to take the call. “Hi, Mom.”
“Good morning sweetheart. Big day today?”
He wonders if she’s been talking to Allison’s mom again. Maybe she’s feeling left out. So he gives her a rundown on his schedule for the day. As he’s talking he pauses in front of a hallway mirror and winces at his reflection. His eyes are tired and pretty red. He fully expects the makeup artists to force eye drops on him.
“Are you all right? You sound a little hoarse. Is your voice okay?”
Yeah, his throat’s a little sore. But he’s not about to tell her why. “I’m fine, Mom,” he says with an eye roll, and crap. He sounds like a 10-year-old.
“All right, honey. I know you can take care of yourself.” She’s totally humoring him. He loves her, but he kind of wants to hang up on her.
Unfortunately she raised him too well for that. “Did you need something?” he asks politely.
“Oh, yes. So…I spoke with Katy.”
Kris closes his eyes and tries not to groan. “Mom…”
“I know you’re an adult, and far be it for me to take sides.” Except that she is; that’s clear from her tone. “She does have a point, sweetheart. I know you always want to think the best of people and you’ve always made friends so easily…”
“Since when is that a bad thing?” he has to put in. He tries to at least be thankful that his mother isn’t lecturing him on who he should and shouldn’t be kissing.
“It isn’t. But you also tend to get hurt because you trust so easily.”
He hears commotion behind him and turns to watch the others coming down the hallway, ready to leave. He steps to the side to let them pass. In his ear, meanwhile, his mother keeps giving him the same talk she had when he was younger and suddenly the smallest in his class and didn’t understand why some of his friends suddenly weren’t his friends anymore.
Adam pauses to give him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. Kris forces a smile and nods that everything’s fine.
Matt, who’s the last one through, gives him a slap on the back that nearly knocks him off balance. “C’mon, Krissy. Time to get funky.” Kris turns to glare at his retreating back, but can’t help his laugh.
“…Kris?”
“Gotta go, Mom,” he says shortly. “Love you; I’ll talk to you later.”
oOo
The theme of this week’s video is “magic show.” Kris suspects a conspiracy.
Allison is the first one in the makeup chair. Kris watches the sparkly façade take shape with at least a tiny bit of dread. This is really not his thing. But she’s excited, chattering at him and Adam. Kris sneaks a sideways look to find Adam smiling back at her in delight.
Of course he is, Kris thinks, because this totally is Adam’s thing. Adam slips into character as easily as he does his too-tight jeans, wearing the makeup and attitude like a second skin. Kris, on the other hand, feels like a little boy playing dress-up with clothes that will never fit.
Adam stands out in whatever scenario they’re given, but this particular one draws all eyes straight to him. In fact, in a particularly nasty moment, Kris wonders if the producers planned this thing to make Adam look like a rock star and the rest of them look like idiots. He wouldn’t put it past them.
Still, Adam in full theatrical mode, with a cape no less, is a mesmerizing sort of thing. Allison is totally holding her own with him, which…ticks Kris off, actually, and he’s not comfortable looking at that reaction very closely. It’s stupid for him to want to be up there with Adam, because that would make him look even more inept by comparison.
Matt is sitting beside him making snarky comments that kind of make Kris want to snap that he’s ruining the mood. He tries to relax instead, because he’s been partnered with Matt and he thinks they’re going to look equally goofy up there in their glitter together, so he can appreciate the guy.
Adam and Allison only need a couple of takes. Kris loses count of how many he and Matt take.
Later, when Danny and Lil are onstage and Matt’s slouched between him and Adam in the audience, Kris watches the animated expression on Adam’s face as he recounts one of the theater stories he never seems to run out of. Kris keeps reaching to rub at his itchy, cakey makeup and Adam keeps reaching over Matt to intercept his hand without even breaking rhythm in the storytelling. Kris has the petulant thought that he doesn’t need to be treated like a child by his wife or his mother or the next American Idol.
Which, he suddenly realizes with a strange sense of certainty, Adam almost unquestionably is.
oOo
He doesn’t sleep much the night before the performance show. He can’t seem to shut off his thoughts.
Adam tosses and turns for a while before he goes to sleep; maybe that’s why he’s Kris’s main focus. That feeling of certainty settles over him again. But now it has time to grow and mutate into something uglier.
He’s heard Adam rehearse. He’s been entranced enough by the simple voice and song-and that’s without the benefit of the band or lighting effects or the general ambiance of the crowded performance hall. He knows Adam’s going to blow everyone away.
That in itself isn’t exactly new. But the way Kris is feeling about it is. He tries to ignore it and then spends a lot of time refusing to name it. When he finally does, he realizes it is resentment…and at least a little jealousy.
It’s not Adam’s fault he’s infuriatingly awesome. Except…okay, maybe it is, but it isn’t his fault that Kris suddenly finds the awesomeness infuriating. And he genuinely likes Adam too much to feel anything but ashamed.
He’s nothing like Adam in musicality or voice or looks. He knows he’s got a whole different appeal. Still, it’s hard not to feel inferior. That in turn is breeding doubt.
He doesn’t want to be Adam; he knows far better than to try. He just doesn’t want who he is to not be enough to even compete with Adam.
He knew he wanted this-the cliché of the American Idol dream and all that goes with it-but it suddenly feels like a desperate ache deep inside. This is his future. As distant as he feels from her right now, Katy is counting on him. He doesn’t want to let her or himself down. To come this far and get voted off before Top 5 and fade into obscurity, or to get this much exposure and then screw up and possibly not be able to get a record deal…the possibilities suddenly seem more frightening than they did just last week.
He doesn’t feel all that confident about his song choice, either. Looking back now he wonders why he settled on it. Maybe it’s not too late to change it.
In the next breath he’s telling himself that thought is stupid. He needs to do something upbeat. He’s rehearsed this song, learned to play it; he has to keep it.
Even if he does have a really bad feeling about it.
oOo
Boring. Self-indulgent. Stupid.
The words reverberate in his mind as he makes his way backstage. He’s heard them before, of course, just not in reference to him. Actually it’s pretty tame by Simon’s standards; he should probably be grateful.
The smile stays pasted on, the laughter a little wooden as he accepts everyone’s words of comfort. He blindly heads for the couch.
After a while, he’s dimly aware that someone has come to sit beside him. He glances over to find Adam studying him. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he returns, summoning the fake smile again. It sounds nice and detached but it must lack for something, because the concern in Adam’s eyes deepens and he moves closer to rub a hand across his shoulders.
“It’s just one song, one critique. Your fans are still there.”
He can’t take it right now; the concern, the platitudes, or the touch. He just can’t. He shrugs away from Adam, standing abruptly.
“Good luck,” he says shortly, and it comes out like he means the opposite. He hears the bitterness in his voice, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “Not that you need it.”
Adam blinks up at him, taken aback. Kris hates himself a little. He turns and slips away, locking himself in the bathroom before he can do any more damage.
oOo
“Do people really not like me?”
Kris doesn’t overreact to the question, mostly because he’s kind of been expecting it. Allison’s got a very cool exterior that she shows to most people. Her insecurities only crop up with those she feels closest to, those she really seems to trust. He’s honored that she counts him among those. He just hopes his own mood doesn’t bleed into her.
He hooks an arm around her neck and tugs her close. “Everyone I know likes you.”
They’re alone in the hallway, everyone else still downstairs as he walks her to her room. He knows the others all knew what was on her mind, but they respected her enough to give them the space. Of course, it might not be all about her. He’s been quiet and broody and avoiding Adam. Considering the way they usually are with each other, he’s sure the change was noticeable.
Allison leans into him. “Thanks, but everyone you know is barely a fraction of the voting public.”
“You shouldn’t listen to Simon.”
“See, people think that. But the truth is that everyone listens to Simon, and the others. What they say counts.”
“Yes, if it’s about your song. Then, as an artist, you should listen. But song critique is one thing, and personality critique is another. Hey, a few weeks ago they told me I needed self-confidence, and look how that turned out. Now I’m so self-indulgent I’m losing myself in the song.” He’s not sure that even makes sense.
Allison gets indignant on his behalf. “You are not. You shouldn’t listen to them.”
He gives her a look.
She stares at him for a moment, and then rolls her eyes. “Right, okay. Sorry for the hypocritical moment, there.”
He stops and takes her by the shoulders, forcing her to listen. “You’re a beautiful person and an awesome artist, and America sees that. Don’t go changing.”
“Thanks.” She’s young enough to take that without arrogance or embarrassment. She just blinks up at him with those big eyes. “So are you, you know.”
“I had a bad night,” he shrugs and delivers the line like it’s no big deal. She smiles at him and bids him goodnight while he thinks wow, he’s a better actor than he thought.
He does have to listen, because his was song critique. At least, he hopes Simon was referring to his song and not calling him stupid. Though really, a stupid song means a stupid choice, which logically follows back to a stupid choice-maker. He’s not so stupid he can’t connect those dots.
He doesn’t want to talk to Katy. He toys with the idea of not calling. But he always calls; he’s not quite ready for the statement that breaking that habit would make.
“I thought you were good,” she says immediately, loyally indignant.
He gives a dry little laugh. “Yeah, that’s why you’re not in the music business babe.”
Her laugh sounds equally forced. “Right. Sorry. Still, it wasn’t as bad as they made it out to be.”
“Have you and Mom been discussing it?”
She hesitates, her voice quiet. “You know I talk to your mother about almost everything. Especially now, with you locked in that mansion all the time. You’ve got your new friends…”
“And you’ve got our old friends! And my family, apparently!”
There are several beats of dead silence. “I sort of thought they were my family too.”
He feels like something’s being ripped apart inside him. “I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry; I’ve got to go.” He hangs up before she can say anything else. Then he throws the phone against the wall.
There’s an ominous crack, and more than one piece falls to the carpet.
By the time he gets back to his room, he’s literally shaking with emotion. When he slams the door a little too hard, Adam emerges from the bathroom with toothbrush in hand. Kris glances at him and then gives him a wide berth as he crosses to his own bed.
“Everything okay?”
No, actually, nothing’s feeling okay at the moment. “Fine,” he says aloud.
“Kristopher.”
As a general rule, he doesn’t like it when people use his full name. It’s like an intimate thing that belongs in his family. He doesn’t really even like it when Katy uses it. But he’s let Adam get away with it a few times, maybe because with him it was never formal or mocking but rather familiar.
This isn’t one of those times. “Just drop it,” he snaps.
There’s a long pause. “All right, man.” He hears Adam step up behind him. Kris holds carefully still, but all that comes is the light whisper of a touch to his right shoulder. Then Adam’s gone, heading back for the bathroom. Still Kris stands there, jaw clenched against the sudden lump in his throat.
oOo
He sleeps more this night than the last, though it’s even less restful. It’s filled with unsettling dreams and nightmare scenarios, some of which revolve around bottom three or being voted off, some which involve Katy or his mom or his friends. Come morning he’s exhausted and fairly miserable.
But he feels worst for taking his issues out on Adam. He thinks maybe he should feel worst for everything with Katy, but that’s something he can deal with later. Adam is here, now. And yes, he’s unbelievably talented and wildly popular and probably going to win. He’s also quite possibly the best friend Kris has ever had, and he realizes he doesn’t want to sacrifice that for his own insecurities…or for anything, if fact.
Adam’s giving him silence and a respectful distance, but he’s not purposefully avoiding him. That Adam manages to keep right on being awesome while Kris is pissed off is…well, he wants it to be annoying, but all it really does is make him feel even worse. They go about their well-rehearsed morning routine, just with less chatter and teasing and more awkward glances at each other. Every time their eyes meet Kris has to look away.
Before they head down to breakfast Kris retrieves the pieces of his phone from the floor where he’d dumped them last night. He spends pointless minutes trying to fit it back together and pushing at buttons, hoping for signs of life. He resigns himself to the fact that it’s dead and automatically glances at Adam, wanting to commiserate.
Adam’s watching him with a similar sideways glance, a curious look. When their eyes meet he raises an eyebrow slightly.
Kris recognizes the invitation to talk if he wants or ignore if he doesn’t. He fiddles with the pieces for a long moment. “I may need a new phone.”
Adam turns to face him fully. “I don’t suppose it fell apart from overuse.”
“It had some help.” He’s not usually given to fits of temper. He tosses the evidence into the garbage can. Only then he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and he fidgets. “Look…I’m sorry I…” he starts to say ‘snapped at you,’ but he knows he owes apology for more than that. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk.”
Adam studies him, and Kris tries to look contrite. He thinks he gets pathetic instead, especially when Adam’s smile holds more concern than levity. “Don’t worry about it. We’re okay.”
Kris blinks, because it can’t be that easy. “Really?”
Adam gives him a little smile. “Did you want me to be mad?”
“No, but…” he sighs in frustration. “You have a right to be.”
“Kris, I don’t know what’s going on in your head. But from my point of view? You’ve been quiet and moody and maybe a little rude. Out of character, sure, but nothing for me to really be angry over. Believe me, I’ve been treated worse.”
“I’m sorry,” Kris says again, though even he’s not sure what he’s apologizing for anymore.
“All right,” Adam says with a little laugh as he stands, coming over to him. “I am worried about you, though.”
Kris shrugs, looking away uncomfortably. “I’m okay.”
“Sure you are. Did you sleep at all?”
“Geez, I look that bad?”
“Nothing a little makeup won’t cure.” He waggles an eyebrow in question.
Kris’ laugh is real, peppered with relief at the ease of it. “Sure, fine. Make me pretty.”
“You’re already pretty.” Adam reaches out to teasingly pinch his cheek. Kris squirms and blushes despite himself, bringing a genuine smile to Adam’s lips as well. “Hey, millions of teenaged girls-and, I’m sure, more than a few boys-can’t be wrong.”
Kris rolls his eyes. “Right. Maybe I should go out there, dark circles and all, and see if they still think I can sing.”
Adam gives him a look, then grabs his wrist and tugs him to the bathroom. He doesn’t say anything until he’s sat Kris down on the closed toilet and gone to work with a stick of something that looks vaguely like lipstick, only in skin color. Kris thinks he should be getting used to makeup by now, but it’s not really happening.
“We’ll get you fixed up. On the outside at least,” Adam says pointedly.
Kris shifts uncomfortably and gets a hand planted on top of his head to keep him still. “I’m okay. I think I just need to survive tonight.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“I should. I want to stay because of my talent, because I deserve to be here. Not because I’m pretty.”
Adam tilts his chin, catching his eyes with a piercing gaze. “You can sing. You know that. But if you need to hear it, I’m happy to help you out.” Kris stares at him in surprise, and Adam smirks. “What? I told you your fans were still there.”
Kris can’t seem to compose a coherent response, teasing or otherwise. It’s possible he may still be staring. Adam reaches out to give him a teasing tap on the jaw, closing his mouth. “Chin up, Krissy. You’re not going anywhere.”
So Kris puts on a brave face, figuratively and literally, and goes down to breakfast where Matt leans close and pokes at his cheek. “Are you wearing makeup?”
oOo
When show time finally rolls around he’s a nervous wreck and expending all that’s left of his energy on hiding it. His face is starting to hurt from the smile he’s plastered on.
When Ryan has him stand with Adam he knows that can’t be good. But then he has Anoop stand up too, and a flicker of hope nearly makes him shudder. He feels like a bastard for it, but it’s still there.
Then Adam is safe, of course he is, and Kris’s congratulations are real and heartfelt. But when Adam sits he immediately misses the strong presence standing at his side. He locks his knees and carefully studies a spot on the ground as he waits for the verdict.
When it finally comes, when he’s pronounced safe, a wave of something goes through him and leaves him cold. If it’s relief, it’s a little sickening in it’s force.
Anoop is past him before he’s summoned enough composure to speak. Adam catches him up in a hug though, so Kris gets a moment to place a hand on his arm in a weak offer of consolation. He gets an even weaker attempt at a smile in return before Anoop is off and across the stage. Kris doesn’t realize he’s still standing there like a moron until Adam has to grab his hand and tug him back into his seat.
Then they’ve gone to commercial and Danny’s sliding across the now-vacant seat to give him a hug. “Congratulations, man.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Kris replies absently. The fake smile is back, twisting his lips automatically to keep his real emotions from showing through.
The others all turn around from the bottom couch to offer their own congratulations, though everyone’s smiles are a little tight. Anoop’s performance last night shouldn’t have earned him that seat, so who else may be in unexpected jeopardy? The nerves are reflected in all their faces. In fact, the only one who’s not looking at least a little terrified is the only other one who’s safe.
Adam gives him a smile and a light squeeze on the shoulder. Kris responds with a grateful look.
His eyes then drift to the audience, unconsciously seeking Katy. It’s hard to see well enough to make eye contact from here, but he knows where she’s sitting, and he manages. She’s staring at him, apparently waiting for him to look. Normally he’d get a wave or a kiss blown his way. Tonight she just nods and gives him what from this distance looks like a sad smile.
He draws in a shuddering breath and pulls his focus back to the stage. Adam lets his hand slip down to rest on his lower back, out of sightline for the cameras but enough to offer support.
Kris leans into him ever-so-slightly and tries to steel himself to last the rest of the show.
oOo
Scott’s is perhaps the hardest goodbye yet. They don’t do the kissing thing, but there are weepy hugs all around. And Kris loves Scott as much as the rest of them and hates to see him go, but somehow his eyes are the only ones that remain dry.
He’s exhausted and feels like he’s just going through the motions. It’s another thing in what’s becoming a long line of things he’s not proud of. He watches the door close behind Scott and feels an empty sort of ache in the pit of his stomach.
When Allison turns to bury her face in his chest and leans into him with most of her weight, he very nearly falls over. It’s only Adam standing behind them and grabbing his shoulders that saves them. Allison doesn’t seem to notice, so Kris just pats her on the back consolingly and angles a thankful glance over his shoulder.
Eventually she lets go, moving to hug Lil. But Adam seems afraid to let go of Kris, like he might topple over if the breeze blows this way. He thinks he might. So he just stands there and lets Adam manhandle him like a 5 year old up past his bedtime.
When they’re alone in the room and the first thing Adam says is, “So. Your wife pretty much ordered me to look after you,” Kris really has no response for it.
“Oh,” is all he manages while he watches Adam peel off jacket and shoes. Eventually he shakes himself a little and adds, “Sorry about that? I’ve tried to explain that we’re all a little stressed out and it’s perfectly normal in this kind of pressure cooker-“
“Okay, first, don’t apologize for having people who love you enough to worry. Second, yeah, we’re all dealing with that stress. But most of us haven’t spent the last couple of days walking around like we’re trapped in 60-pound suits of armor.” Adam plops down on Kris’s bed, tugging him down in front of him. “Come here; you’re strung tighter than your guitar.”
“When have you been touching my guitar?” Kris mumbles, because he really has nothing else to say.
“Relax Krissy, I’d never touch without your permission.” And then there are strong fingers kneading his stiff shoulders, gently but firmly digging into tight muscles. “Seriously, relax.”
Adam’s really good at this. Kris chooses to think it’s from theater relaxation exercises. He’s sticking with that theory. Whatever-it feels good, painful but in a good way.
It creates a problem though, the same problem he had right after his performance. The caring human contact is too much for his tenuous control. That distance he’d felt downstairs is gone in an instant, walls crumbling and emotion pouring back into the numbness. The tears he’d been missing are suddenly a full-force pressure behind his eyes.
What had he expected? One mere touch had nearly undone him last night; this is about a thousand times that. Still, much as he doesn’t want the control to break, he doesn’t pull away. Not even when Adam hits a particularly sensitive spot, prompting a gasp that somehow comes out as a choked sob.
Adam’s hands still. “Kris?”
He can’t answer. He just shakes his head a little and brings a hand up to cover his face.
“Hey…” Adam shifts, sliding around to his side with far more grace than someone with such a long body should possess. They’re quiet for a long moment, Kris’ shaky breaths the only sound between them. Then gentle fingers grasp his wrist, tugging the hand away. Adam’s leaning forward, trying to catch his eye. “Do you really believe I’ll think any less of you for a few tears?”
Of course he won’t, so that’s not the issue. “I think less of me,” he confesses.
“That’s because you’re an idiot,” Adam responds easily, the insult laden with affection.
Kris chokes on a burst of laughter, making it more of a disgusting snort. He swallows hard a few times until he trusts his voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Adam nods like he’s making perfect sense. All he says is “Come here, idiot.” He slips an arm around him and tugs.
Kris doesn’t have the strength to resist, even if he wanted to. Adam tucks him against his shoulder and Kris buries his face. This close, he can feel the vibrations as Adam speaks. “There’s nothing wrong with you, okay? You’re just stressed to a breaking point and exhausted on top of it.”
Kris draws in another shuddering breath, then another. Adam rubs his back soothingly. Kris tries to soak in the comfort, but he’s still trying to force back the tears.
After several long minutes of this Adam pushes him away, and Kris makes a vague sound of protest that’s a little embarrassing. But Adam keeps him close, looking him in the eye. “Do you trust me?”
Kris tries to blink the blurriness from his vision and feels a couple of tears spill over. He sucks in another shaky breath. “Yeah.”
Adam gives him a little shake. “Then let go. I know it’s not easy, but you’ll feel better. I promise.” He pulls him in again and this time Kris latches on, fingers curling in the back of Adam’s shirt.
Then he’s sobbing like a child, and he still feels kind of embarrassed about it, but Adam’s hanging onto him and whispering that it’s okay. And somehow he dares to believe that it might be.
oOo
When he wakes, it’s to a sunlight-flooded room and a fully dressed roommate trying to move around quietly. Adam notices him moving and smiles. “Hey, you are alive under there.”
He sounds entirely too chipper. Kris grunts a vague “um-hmm,” blinking blearily in the light. He feels sluggish and not quite awake yet, so he just rolls over and burrows back into the pillow.
“Hey, none of that. Up and at ‘em, Sunshine.”
Kris makes a sound that’s a weird mix of groan and whimper and pulls the sheet over his head.
“It’s nearly noon.”
“Is not,” he counters in disbelief, lowering the sheet just enough to see the clock. 11:48. “Ugh.” He retreats back under the covers, now wanting to face the world even less. If they’ve let him sleep this long, odds are someone said something about him really needing it. He’s not sure he’s up for concerned looks and questions.
“Kristopher…” Adam sing-songs, and his voice is closer now. Kris feels the bed dip beside him just before cool fingers crawl up the back of his neck.
Kris swats at the hand. “Go away,” he instructs, but even he can hear the smile in his voice. His throat kind of hurts, his eyes are sore and his nose is a little clogged, and he wonders if he should point out that he’s feeling worse than he did before the whole crying episode. Except he knows Adam meant emotionally, and in those terms, he’s surprised to find that he actually does kind of feel better.
Adam heaves an overdramatic sigh. “I suppose I could leave you here. But then you’d miss all the fun, and I’d feel terribly guilty about it.” A hand strokes his spine soothingly, and Kris should probably tell him that all that will accomplish is putting him back to sleep. It’s lulling, and he lets his eyes slip shut again.
He’s not coherent enough to realize that the hand has left his back until Adam speaks again. “Besides, it’s more fun with you around.” Fingers abruptly scrabble at his side. Suddenly he’s wide awake because he’s horribly ticklish, and how the hell did Adam know that?
This sound is a mix of yelp and giggle, and he’s upright with his back to the headboard in two seconds flat. Adam’s grin is downright devious. “I’m going to remember that. I might need it again.” He wiggles his fingers threateningly.
“You play dirty,” Kris pouts.
“Oh, my sweet naïve roommate. You haven’t begun to see dirty.”
Kris feels his face redden, shaking his head as he just laughs.
Adam’s watching him with a fond expression. “Want to hear my philosophy?”
“Unless it involves tickling.”
“I suppose it could if you want.” Adam pinches his knee to make the point and Kris kicks at him. “Seriously, you’ve got to have fun with this. Not just the ‘Idol Experience,’” here he makes a ridiculous face and spreads his arms in a grandiose gesture, and Kris snickers, “but the whole business. If you aren’t having fun, if you don’t believe in it, then it’s not worth doing. And the audience will know it as well as you do.”
“I love making music,” Kris confesses softly, simple but painfully honest.
Adam’s smile is gentle. “I know. I can tell. Anyone who’s seen you perform can tell. Just don’t let all the crap of the details or all the meddling personalities come between you and that love.”
Kris thinks it over, tucks it all away for further thought, then leans back against the pillow. “How did you get so smart?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Adam laughs. “And you know I’ve been at this performing thing for a long time.” He gives Kris’s leg a little squeeze as he stands and offers a hand. “Now come on. We’ve got a photo shoot, and someone definitely needs a makeover.” Kris groans and rolls his eyes in complaint.
Then he takes the hand with a smile.
oOo