It Never Gets Easier [2/?]
Title: It Never Gets Easier [2/?]
Author:likeanaccidentx
Pairing: Adam Lazzara/John Nolan. Mentions of others.
Rating: PG13.
Summary: And it’s then that your knees buckle and your throat dries up. It’s then that your eyes meet his for the first time since that day when he crushed your entire being with those two simple words:
“It’s over.”
And you remind yourself of those words as you study him, standing in your doorway.
Word count: 835.
Disclaimer: Not real. Don’t know, don’t own.
Notes: This is a shorter chapter, I’m aware, but they get longer from here on in. Previous part is posted on my journal.
You wake less than an hour later from the sound of a doorbell, followed by three precise knocks, perfectly timed. You groan and roll off the bed, running a hand through the hair hanging limply in your face, and it’s not until you reach to open the door that you realize just who it is that’s standing on the other side.
It’s him.
You’re still half asleep; however, you manage to face it a lot better than you ordinarily would. You take a deep breath and reach for the handle, swinging the door open.
And it’s then that your knees buckle and your throat dries up. It’s then that your eyes meet his for the first time since that day when he crushed your entire being with those two simple words:
“It’s over.”
And you remind yourself of those words as you study him, standing in your doorway.
His hair is slightly longer than it was, he’s grown a beard and you notice that he’s put on a bit of weight since the last time you saw him. This isn’t a bad thing; you always complained that he was as thin as a rake. He’d tell you to stop being hypocritical. He smiles nervously at you, that same old lazy grin that makes his hazel eyes twinkle. He’s traded in the thick rimmed glasses he used to wear in favour of contacts, and it’s only now that you remember just how beautiful his eyes always were.
“Hey, Adam,” He doesn’t speak your name, he breathes it.
“Hi.” you whisper. The two of you stand awkwardly in the doorway for a few moments, before you move aside to let him in. He swallows and steps over the threshold into the kitchen area and you close the door behind him, walking past him towards the couch. He finds his voice as you sit down, and begins to ramble at you about his journey as you sit, attempting to regain your composure and wake yourself up.
“I am… so sorry I’m late, I really am. God, you wouldn’t believe the hell I went through to get here,” He’s talking rapidly as he paces the room, and you’ve always known him to be an awkward person, but to see him so nervous and fidgety is new even for you.
“I left the band in Atlanta, and Michelle was asking questions, and in the end I had to tell her I just wanted a few days, y’know? So I went to rent a car, which took far longer than I expected. And by the time I reached Pensacola? The tire was bust, and I didn’t have a spare so I had to wait around to fix that. And then it started to pour down while I was waiting, so I had to find somewhere to change into some dry clothes… Then I was already late to meet you. I didn’t have any number for you but the number in Texas, and you told me not to call that again, so I tried to hurry and ended up getting a speeding ticket and…” He pauses and looks over at you, catches you rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn. You watch the realization wash over him like a wave. “Oh… God. I woke you, didn’t I?”
“It’s fine,” you mumble, waving a hand in a ‘don’t worry’ manner. He frowns and moves over to sit next to you, his body turned to face you. You sit upright, avoid looking him directly in the eye, settle for playing with the sleeves of your hooded sweatshirt instead.
“I’m sorry you went through so much trouble,” you tell him, and you mean it, too.
“It’s worth it, Adam, it really is.” He says quietly, and you let out a short laugh at this statement, shaking your head to yourself. Sitting next to him, you can’t help but feel bitter about the way he treated you the last time the two of you were in a room together.
He opens his mouth to say something, but you interrupt him. You do not really want to hear any more on that matter just yet.
“You hungry?” You ask him. He thinks about it a moment, and shrugs.
“I could do with something to eat,” He admits. “Don’t go through any trouble, though, I mean -”
“Who’s goin’ through any trouble?” You say as you get to your feet, walking over to the breakfast bar and grabbing your jacket. “There’s an IHOP just down the street. How’s that sound?”
He watches you in silence for a few moments, analyzing your every move as you pull a cigarette from the carton inside your pocket and rest it gently between your lips as you shrug your jacket on. Cigarette still dangling from your lips, you raise your eyebrows at him, letting him know that you’re waiting for his response, and he blushes and smiles nervously.
“Great.” He says with a nod, getting to his feet. “Yeah, that sounds great.”