A Rose by Any Other Name (8/?)
Title: A Rose by Any Other Name
Chapter: 8/?
Pairing: Kradam
Rating: R maybe? This one is G.
Summary: High school AU. What happens when Kris is kidnapped, and the police have given up the search after 2 years? And how do Adam Lambert and American Idol play into all of it?
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Adam, Kris and all other recognizable faces belong to themselves, not me.
Author's Note: PLEASE!! Someone pick up on the significance of the Shakespeare quote at the end! I was so afraid no one would get it, but please! Someone!
The next day I realized how much easier things were in the mansion. Not just living in it, but the competition eased up a bit. Hollywood week drove everyone crazy, and the weeks after were nearly as bad, since over half the contestants were sent home. But now, things became more comfortable. There was only one person going home every week, so the pressure eased, while the new stage, and being called part of the final 12 made the pressure grow again.
I sat on a couch in the red room flipping through a list of pre-approved songs for the show. We could choose other songs and go to the producers to get them cleared, but there were enough choices that I didn’t really want to bother with asking about another one. I quickly learned that if I sat in the red room, Frank wouldn’t bother me, since all the other contestants usually hung out there as well. He would mostly spend his time talking with Allison’s mom, or out of the mansion, though he never told me where he went.
As far as I was concerned, auditioning for American Idol was the best thing I’d ever done. Even if I couldn’t find a way to get home, I was happier than I’d been in the last two years. The beatings had stopped, and I didn’t have many scars left on my back and chest, though I still refused to take my shirt off when the guys tried to pull me down to the pool. They had ended up throwing me into the pool in my clothes. I still refused to take my shirt off, but contented myself with attempting to drown Matt and Anoop for throwing me in.
Aside from that, I was at least in some place familiar. When I walked down the street, people weren’t wearing basketball shorts and t-shirts. And the ‘distressed’ jeans they wore were actually bought that way, not homemade. Lindsay had even let me taken me shopping for some nice clothes so I would fit in in LA. The clothes were a lot closer to my old style. Yesterday had been the last day I wore James’ clothes. Frank insisted that I “stay with my roots” for a bit longer before I “gave out to the LA style.” If I didn’t think the guy was warped before, I would’ve definitely pinned him then. I felt a lot my comfortable today in fitted, black jeans and a dark blue shirt that clung to clung to my figure surprisingly well. Between the scars from beatings and baggy clothes, I hadn’t even realized how much I had actually grown up over the last two years.
Even more than that, it was good to hear about my family from Adam. As hard as it was to keep a straight face, and as much danger as it put me in that Adam was even here, it helped to hear the stories. It reminded me that I did have a life back in LA. That I hadn’t imagined it all. It was real, and not far out of my grasp.
“Hey James.” My eyes snapped up from the page of songs I’d been staring blankly at to find the source of the voice.
“Hey Adam,” I said, smiling slightly at him. He gestured with his hand, and I took the hint, sliding over on the couch so he could sit beside me, even though every other seat in the room was empty.
“Didn’t want to go swimming with everyone else?” he asked, turning to look at me, one legs crossed under his other one.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Just trying to get a head start on this.” I waved the papers slightly and looked back at them, feigning interest in the black ink on the page.
“We don’t even have to pick our song until tomorrow,” Adam said, cocking his head to the side, his eyes narrowed. I saw his hand remove the papers from mine and set them no the table, but my eyes stayed trained on where the papers had been a few moments before. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” I asked, finally looking up at him, confused.
Adam made an odd face, but then just sighed and shook his head, standing up. “Never mind,” he muttered. I was about to ask what I’d done to upset him, but he gave me a weak smiled and continued. “I’m starving. I think there’s some leftover pizza from last night. You want some?”
“Sure,” I said with a smile. I stood and followed him into the kitchen, where most of the group had congregated, all dripping wet and fighting over the last slice of pepperoni pizza. I laughed and stole a slice of cheese from one of the forgotten boxes on the counter.
I started talking with Alli when the others went back out to the pool. Glancing quickly around, I wondered when Adam had left, but mentally shrugged and turned back to Alli as she lamented the horrors of being on the show as a minor. “I mean, I love my mom to death, but it’s so weird, he being here, you know? I just want to do my own thing, but I keep thinking, ‘my mom is gonna freak out if she hears this song during rehearsals.’”
I laughed and nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Frank isn’t as hands-on with the whole music thing, but it’s still weird that I have to have him here with me.” I tried hard not to wince at the understatement.
“You’re lucky,” Alli said, smiling slightly. “My mom has been hounding me about picking a song since we got the list this morning.”
“I can help you pick one, if you want,” I volunteered. “I haven’t picked mine either, so we can look over the songs together, and play a few on my guitar.”
“Ohmygod,” she said brightly, and I had to keep myself from laughing at the way she made the phrase sound like one word. “That sounds great! Can we start now?”
“Sure,” I said with a grin. “I’ll grab my guitar from and meet you in the rehearsal room, alright?”
“Okay,” Alli said, practically skipping down the hall towards the rehearsal room.
I laughed a bit under my breath as I started back to the room. As I pushed open the door, I considered asking Adam if he wanted to join us. “Hey Adam, you in here?” I asked, glancing towards the closed bathroom door inside the room.
“He left a few minutes ago,” Matt’s voice came from the other side of the door. I’d almost forgotten that Adam and I shared the bathroom with Matt and Michael in the next room. “Said something about meeting some friends, I think.”
“Thanks,” I called back to him as I walked to my bed and picked up my guitar case from beside it. My eyes fell curiously to a note sitting on the bedside table, pushed slightly under the book I had set there last night. Narrowing my eyes slightly at the note, I glanced towards the bathroom door, then back at the note. I set my guitar carefully on the bed, then pulled the note out from under the book and unfolded it.
Though it had been years since I’d seen the handwriting, I recognized it immediately as Adam’s. But the words that handwriting formed made my breath catch in my throat, and tears burn at my eyes. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be! I closed my eyes tightly, willing the words to disappear, but when I reopened my eyes, they were still there in black and white.
So would Romeo, were he not Romeo called,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title.
Romeo, doff thy name
Chapter: 8/?
Pairing: Kradam
Rating: R maybe? This one is G.
Summary: High school AU. What happens when Kris is kidnapped, and the police have given up the search after 2 years? And how do Adam Lambert and American Idol play into all of it?
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Adam, Kris and all other recognizable faces belong to themselves, not me.
Author's Note: PLEASE!! Someone pick up on the significance of the Shakespeare quote at the end! I was so afraid no one would get it, but please! Someone!
The next day I realized how much easier things were in the mansion. Not just living in it, but the competition eased up a bit. Hollywood week drove everyone crazy, and the weeks after were nearly as bad, since over half the contestants were sent home. But now, things became more comfortable. There was only one person going home every week, so the pressure eased, while the new stage, and being called part of the final 12 made the pressure grow again.
I sat on a couch in the red room flipping through a list of pre-approved songs for the show. We could choose other songs and go to the producers to get them cleared, but there were enough choices that I didn’t really want to bother with asking about another one. I quickly learned that if I sat in the red room, Frank wouldn’t bother me, since all the other contestants usually hung out there as well. He would mostly spend his time talking with Allison’s mom, or out of the mansion, though he never told me where he went.
As far as I was concerned, auditioning for American Idol was the best thing I’d ever done. Even if I couldn’t find a way to get home, I was happier than I’d been in the last two years. The beatings had stopped, and I didn’t have many scars left on my back and chest, though I still refused to take my shirt off when the guys tried to pull me down to the pool. They had ended up throwing me into the pool in my clothes. I still refused to take my shirt off, but contented myself with attempting to drown Matt and Anoop for throwing me in.
Aside from that, I was at least in some place familiar. When I walked down the street, people weren’t wearing basketball shorts and t-shirts. And the ‘distressed’ jeans they wore were actually bought that way, not homemade. Lindsay had even let me taken me shopping for some nice clothes so I would fit in in LA. The clothes were a lot closer to my old style. Yesterday had been the last day I wore James’ clothes. Frank insisted that I “stay with my roots” for a bit longer before I “gave out to the LA style.” If I didn’t think the guy was warped before, I would’ve definitely pinned him then. I felt a lot my comfortable today in fitted, black jeans and a dark blue shirt that clung to clung to my figure surprisingly well. Between the scars from beatings and baggy clothes, I hadn’t even realized how much I had actually grown up over the last two years.
Even more than that, it was good to hear about my family from Adam. As hard as it was to keep a straight face, and as much danger as it put me in that Adam was even here, it helped to hear the stories. It reminded me that I did have a life back in LA. That I hadn’t imagined it all. It was real, and not far out of my grasp.
“Hey James.” My eyes snapped up from the page of songs I’d been staring blankly at to find the source of the voice.
“Hey Adam,” I said, smiling slightly at him. He gestured with his hand, and I took the hint, sliding over on the couch so he could sit beside me, even though every other seat in the room was empty.
“Didn’t want to go swimming with everyone else?” he asked, turning to look at me, one legs crossed under his other one.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Just trying to get a head start on this.” I waved the papers slightly and looked back at them, feigning interest in the black ink on the page.
“We don’t even have to pick our song until tomorrow,” Adam said, cocking his head to the side, his eyes narrowed. I saw his hand remove the papers from mine and set them no the table, but my eyes stayed trained on where the papers had been a few moments before. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” I asked, finally looking up at him, confused.
Adam made an odd face, but then just sighed and shook his head, standing up. “Never mind,” he muttered. I was about to ask what I’d done to upset him, but he gave me a weak smiled and continued. “I’m starving. I think there’s some leftover pizza from last night. You want some?”
“Sure,” I said with a smile. I stood and followed him into the kitchen, where most of the group had congregated, all dripping wet and fighting over the last slice of pepperoni pizza. I laughed and stole a slice of cheese from one of the forgotten boxes on the counter.
I started talking with Alli when the others went back out to the pool. Glancing quickly around, I wondered when Adam had left, but mentally shrugged and turned back to Alli as she lamented the horrors of being on the show as a minor. “I mean, I love my mom to death, but it’s so weird, he being here, you know? I just want to do my own thing, but I keep thinking, ‘my mom is gonna freak out if she hears this song during rehearsals.’”
I laughed and nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Frank isn’t as hands-on with the whole music thing, but it’s still weird that I have to have him here with me.” I tried hard not to wince at the understatement.
“You’re lucky,” Alli said, smiling slightly. “My mom has been hounding me about picking a song since we got the list this morning.”
“I can help you pick one, if you want,” I volunteered. “I haven’t picked mine either, so we can look over the songs together, and play a few on my guitar.”
“Ohmygod,” she said brightly, and I had to keep myself from laughing at the way she made the phrase sound like one word. “That sounds great! Can we start now?”
“Sure,” I said with a grin. “I’ll grab my guitar from and meet you in the rehearsal room, alright?”
“Okay,” Alli said, practically skipping down the hall towards the rehearsal room.
I laughed a bit under my breath as I started back to the room. As I pushed open the door, I considered asking Adam if he wanted to join us. “Hey Adam, you in here?” I asked, glancing towards the closed bathroom door inside the room.
“He left a few minutes ago,” Matt’s voice came from the other side of the door. I’d almost forgotten that Adam and I shared the bathroom with Matt and Michael in the next room. “Said something about meeting some friends, I think.”
“Thanks,” I called back to him as I walked to my bed and picked up my guitar case from beside it. My eyes fell curiously to a note sitting on the bedside table, pushed slightly under the book I had set there last night. Narrowing my eyes slightly at the note, I glanced towards the bathroom door, then back at the note. I set my guitar carefully on the bed, then pulled the note out from under the book and unfolded it.
Though it had been years since I’d seen the handwriting, I recognized it immediately as Adam’s. But the words that handwriting formed made my breath catch in my throat, and tears burn at my eyes. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be! I closed my eyes tightly, willing the words to disappear, but when I reopened my eyes, they were still there in black and white.
So would Romeo, were he not Romeo called,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title.
Romeo, doff thy name