22 September 2013 @ 09:25 am
Prompt #100: Pick Your Own Adam Song Lyric  
Title: Broken Open
Author: Leela ([personal profile] leela_cat)
Pairing/Characters: Adam/Tommy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 6x100
Content/Warning(s): None
Author's notes: Written for [community profile] glam_100, prompt #100: Pick Your Own Adam Song Lyric. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for help figuring out a song and for the preread and reassurance.

This drabble-set, of course, uses Broken Open


Tommy's phone is heavy in his pocket. He could use it, could text or DM, send a facebook message or an email, or even call, but he doesn't.

Instead, with a weird ache in his chest, he forces himself to unlock the door and twist the handle.

The thud of it closing behind him makes him flinch.

He's doing the right fucking thing. It doesn't matter that it takes him four tries to get the key in the lock, or that he has to blink blurriness out of his vision as he resettles his guitar and backpack on his shoulders.

\*/


Swiping his hair out of his eyes, absolutely not swiping his eyes, Tommy straightens his shoulders and heads down the hallway. He's almost all the way there when an elevator dings and the doors open.

Adam steps off, of fucking course, because that's the way Tommy's shit-tastic luck runs these days.

"Oh," is all Adam says. His mouth rounds, and his shoulders slump. His expression slides briefly into the one he uses to hide from fans, the media, and anyone he doesn't trust before he lets the pain show again.

Tommy chews on a fingernail and waits for the explosion.

\*/


It doesn't happen.

Adam just says, "I'm sorry," in a way that slams into Tommy like a knife in the gut.

"Don't be," Tommy says, going to walk around Adam. "You didn't do shit. I just... I need to go back to my place, okay? I gotta be alone for a bit."

The elevator's already gone back downstairs. Tommy pushes the button and waits. Not wanting to fidget, not able to stay still, he starts chewing on a thumbnail.

A few feet away, Adam's still standing there, watching. Tommy can feel Adam's gaze, the almost unbearable weight of his understanding.

\*/


The elevators move up, stuttering and stopping at a floor here and there. Adam moves, there's the sound of his key in the lock. Tommy doesn't take his eyes off the floor indicator.

When the elevator's one floor away and Adam's door is open, Adam says, "They don't own us."

Tommy bites through nail and skin, tasting blood.

"Everybody owns us," Tommy says. "So many fucking people have little bits and pieces that there's fuck-all left for us. It's worse than fucking high school sometimes, and that's where I...."

Pressing his lips together, Tommy feels something break open inside him.

\*/


Adam's not gentle, and Tommy's grateful for that. He lets Adam manhandle him away from the elevator, even as it's arriving on the floor, and back into the apartment. Somehow he ends up lying on Adam's bed with Adam curled around him.

He can remember how Adam's hands felt on his body as he took away Tommy's guitar, backpack, and shoes, but not those things actually happening. His mind was, and is, lost in events that happened so many years ago that he'd convinced himself he'd forgotten them.

Of course, he failed at that, just like a thousand other things.

\*/


They don't talk about it. Adam doesn't even attempt to ask, and Tommy's grateful for that too. He's so damn grateful that he slides a hand into Adam's, linking their fingers, and holds it tight to his chest.

It's fucking weird, this feeling of being protected. He hasn't a clue what to do with it.

"Stay," Adam says. "You're safe here."

I'm broken, Tommy wants to tell him, but instead he brings Adam's hand up to his lips, kisses it.

"Whenever you're ready," Adam whispers. "You can tell me anything, and I'll still love you."

Tommy just holds on.


.
 
 
Current Mood: tired