Well, I've written a new fanfic (don't worry; I'm still writing my I Learned To Love Again one), and it's a little strange. To be honest, I was a little inspired by OEgirl's (OneShot?), He Knew It. This fanfic is a little like it in the first chapter, but it was just inspired by HKI, and is not a rip-off (I hope XD). Basically, in this fanfic, Adam actually gets to be the dominant one for once! I agree with most ChainShippers that Lawrence should be the dominant and Adam the submissive, but a little change is okay sometimes, right? In any case, please enjoy, and review, or... Or else!

1. You Hurt the Ones You Love

He was all Lawrence wanted, all he needed, he was all he had and all he'd ever ask for.

He was the only one who'd ever bothered to help him through the hardest year of his life. Without him, Lawrence would've been dead, if not in the bathroom, then afterwards, during that time when he'd been drowning, when the darkness in the room had seemed to envelop him in his own fear and his own nightmares, and all he'd managed to do was put his hands over his eyes and whimper like a child, because he couldn't understand, didn't understand why it couldn't just stop!

Then he'd been there. Adam had been there.

The cool little hands on his shoulders had been there, his hands had been there to pull Lawrence's own away from his ears, replace them with the soft, warm little lips, the blue velvet words.


It'll be fine, Lawrence. You made it out, didn't you? And I'm here now, I'll get you through this... I
will, man...

And then, slim arms around Lawrence's waist, drifting into sleep with him, and Lawrence had managed to think, even if he'd been half-unconscious and delirious with his own nightmares, that maybe things would be okay.

And if they had been, it'd be all because of him. Because of Adam.

So Lawrence had no idea why he did this.

He had no idea why he was on one side of the room, and Adam on the other, when only seconds ago, those thin arms had been around his neck, hugging, clutching desperately, because Adam had been scared. He'd been scared then, and he was scared now, and Lawrence completely understood why. He was scared, too.

He was scared of the rage that welled up in his chest, scared of the throbbing in his ears and the scarlet color that he knew was all over his face. And he was so angry. And he had absolutely no reason to be so. All Adam had wanted was some comfort. All he'd done was things Lawrence had done, too. All he'd done was to walk up to Lawrence, put those thin little arms around his neck, wet the front of his cheeks with his tears, all he'd said were those words:


Larry, if you don't get me through this, I swear to God, no one will.

No one would.

And Lawrence couldn't handle that. Couldn't stand seeing Adam like this -- weak, clinging, needing comfort -- because it just wasn't the way Adam was supposed to be.

Adam was supposed to stand tall, all the time, always be strong enough to be able to deal with not only his own problems, but also Lawrence's.

Because Lawrence couldn't do it. Didn't he know that, hadn't he gotten that after listening to the older man's fucking sobbing every goddamned night?

Lawrence couldn't take care of Adam. Lawrence couldn't take care of Adam, because for God's sake, he couldn't even take care of himself! He couldn't, and how the hell could Adam expect him to, how could he expect him to fix anything at all when he was so horribly broken himself?!

Lawrence could get through the days if he knew he could see Adam at night. Lawrence could get through the nights if Adam was there to hold him, if Adam was there to mend everything that was ruined, if he was there to look at the broken pieces of the life Lawrence had worked so hard for at his feet, and not judge him for it.

And now, Adam had stepped off that part. Only for a second.

Only for a second.

And that was why they were standing this way now. That was why they were standing further away from each other than they'd been since they'd gotten out of that bathroom, further away than they'd dared to be from each other before now, and Lawrence was furious, and Adam was scared, and everything, everything was the exact opposite of the way it was supposed to be.

"Lawrence..." Adam murmured, his voice choked with tears. He was pressing himself against the opposite wall of their kitchen, as though it were the only thing keeping him from tumbling forwards, onto the cold, dirty floor. Lawrence turned away, unable to look the young man in the eyes, the eyes that always had to be dry and confident, but that now were as wet and terrified as his.

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" Lawrence yelled, punching the side of the wall he was facing. "You have no fucking idea what... How scared I... Just shut up!"

Lawrence stayed facing the wall, breathing hard and fast to try to keep some control. It didn't seem to be working, though. Especially since, two seconds later, he felt Adam move from his corner and walk over to him, move to stand in front of him. He didn't want that, either. Right now, he just wanted to be as far away from that damn photographer as he could.

"You don't think it was hard for me, too?!" Adam demanded, reaching out and grabbing his lover's shoulder. Lawrence suppressed a snarl with difficulty as the kid forced him roughly around to face him.

The sight of Adam standing there, tears falling fast and uncontrollably from his beautiful, grey eyes, and his mouth, the mouth that Lawrence had kissed more times than he could count, turned down into a glare of resentment and shattered trust, made Lawrence want to rush forwards and grab him, pull him into his arms and hug him, make his hurting stop. But he couldn't. Anger didn't go away just because you wanted it to.

So, he kept talking. Like a fucking idiot, he kept talking, even though he knew he was going to say something he would regret.

"Who's the one that has to sit with you when you go to the bathroom?!" he snapped back, not knowing nor caring how these words would affect the younger man. "Who's the one that has to sit with you four times a day, because you're too fucking chicken-shit to piss or shit by yourself anymore?!"

Adam's face seemed to fall at these words, and his hand dropped slowly from Lawrence's shoulder. He couldn't stop the rage, though. No amount of hurt or betrayal could do that.

"Who's the one who made me so fucking scared of those rooms?!" Adam shouted, clenching his fists and knowing full-well that Jigsaw was the reason he was terrified of bathrooms, not Lawrence.

Not that it mattered. If that was the only leverage he had in this conversation, he would take it in a heartbeat. "Who's the one who shot me?! Shot a fucking bullet into me, while I was begging you not to, begging you to live?! All because you fucked up and wanted a second chance with that cunt and stupid bitch-kid of yours--"

Adam's voice was suddenly cut off by Lawrence's hand hitting his face, hard. The shock of this almost made Adam lose his balance and topple onto the floor, but he managed to keep his footing. Outside, at least. Inside, it felt like every part of him was collapsing, collapsing then shattering, shattering then breaking, breaking then burning... Burning... So painful...

"Don't talk about them like that, Adam," Lawrence said quietly, and somehow, his quiet, subdued tone was even worse than the yelling. "Don't talk about them at all, in fact. You're not worth half of them. Not to me, not to anyone. I'd shoot you again for them, or for anyone, just about. You're barely worth the air you breathe."

Adam stood for a few moments, his face pale with shock, except for the ugly, red mark on his left cheek where Lawrence had struck him. He tried to speak, and found that he was unable to. Lawrence couldn't have meant that, he couldn't have...

"All the people that fucking psychopath chose to participate in his "games,"" Lawrence continued, staring coldly at the freelance photographer as he spoke, "all of them... None of them deserved what they got, none of them were guilty of anything, except a few harmless mistakes. But you... You were different, Adam."

No! No, no, no! What the fuck are you saying to him, you fucking idiot?! You're angry! People say stupid things when they're angry! Just leave it alone! Go and cool off for a few hours, think things through. You'll regret it if you--

"You're a fucking waste of space and life, Adam!" Lawrence said, his voice rising again. "You followed people around and took pictures of them, fucked their lives up! All because you were jealous! Jealous of the fact that your life was a fucking mess! A fucking waste! Jigsaw must have had a brief moment of sanity when he picked you, because you fucking deserved everything you got!"

You idiot. You fucking idiot.

"I should have left you there!" Lawrence spat, too angry now to see the expression on Adam's face, much less care about it. "I should have left your worthless ass in there to rot like it deserved! I should have killed you with that shot! I shouldn't have given a shit when I thought I had! You're less than a fucking insect, Adam! Less than a fucking insect!"

And at this, not even Adam -- sharp-tongued, witty Adam, the way he was and that Lawrence loved him -- could give an immediate response. His eyes just widened, the steel in them snapped with a sharp sound, his mouth dropped open, but he didn't really get why he had to say something, because this wasn't Lawrence, it wasn't Lawrence saying this.

Lawrence said things in hot murmurs against Adam's neck, in desperate whimpers at night when he just needed someone to comfort him, and this wasn't him. The angry, evil, and yet so desperately broken creature in front of Adam wasn't him.

So Adam put his hands around Lawrence's neck, moved one step closer, in attempt of intimacy, in an attempt to make everything okay again.

"Lawrence," Adam mumbled, bowed his head a little, "it's okay... I know you don't mean it, just..."

"The fuck would you know!" Lawrence hissed, tearing the younger man's hands away. "You don't know shit! I... How can you..."

A deep breath. And then the next sentence, not a high-pitched yell, but a soft growl, a white-hot piece of iron that left its scorching marks on Adam's skin.

"You can't fucking expect me to take care of you," Lawrence stated. Every syllable was hammered out, forced. "It's time you get your fucking act together and get a life of your own. Not come running up and wanting to be a part of mine."

To this, it wasn't hard to find an answer at all.

"Really?" Adam spat out, his head straightening up in plain rage. "Lawrence, you're full of it. I can't expect you to take care of me, but I'm the one who's going to put you to sleep again every night when you have a fucking nightmare, so you can go to work next day and pretend to be Mr. Calm Collected Doctor? Is that it? Fuck, why are we even having this discussion? You love me, whether the hell you like it or not and no matter how fucking weird and confusing it is!

And you can go right the fuck ahead and try to live without me, but then you'd be stuck with your goddamned wife, and you wouldn't handle that! She doesn't cure those fucking nightmares, Lawrence! And I wouldn't handle it either, because I fucking love you, too! So just... Just drop this, okay?"

He thought that this would break Lawrence down, that words that actually came from his heart would open Lawrence's up again, because now, it seemed to have slammed shut, that things would go back to normal. Because things had been so good.

But no. No.

Lawrence just grabbed Adam's arm, twisted, nails digging into his skin, and the ocean in the surgeon's eyes was on fire, furiously burning, just like the words he hissed out.

"I wouldn't be able to live without you?"

Angrier than Adam had ever seen him.

"Well, fucking watch me," with another twist on the arm. "Because let me tell you this, Adam: It's been a while since Allison was as willing as you, and by God, that's been handy those hard times. But as for love: None. There was none. Get it? I never loved you. I settled for you."

He meant none of this. Lawrence loved Adam, he loved him more than anything else in the world, he was all he wanted and all he needed, he was all he had and all he'd ever ask for.

But right now, he hated Adam. He hated him because Adam had asked him to be strong. And he wasn't. That had never been more obvious than now. Lawrence hated Adam, he hated him too much to even stay and see what effect his words had had on him.

He hated Adam enough to turn around, let go of his arm, walk out the door and slam it shut, leaving Adam drowning in words he hadn't meant and himself furiously wiping cheeks from something he refused to admit was tears.

Adam became aware gradually that he had sunk to his knees. The cold, almost piercing feel of the bare tiles that made up the apartment's kitchen made the young man realize, more than anything, just how real the situation was. Of course, the red mark on his cheek where Lawrence had struck him helped with that, too.

It's not a dream. It's not a dream. Lawrence actually said those things. He actually did. He really hates you.

Adam felt a sudden wave of unbearable nausea wash over him, and he staggered to his feet, clawing half-blindly at the air with his hands until they closed around his bathroom door, which he promptly yanked open and stumbled into the room beyond. The toilet lay in the corner of the minute room, and Adam, on his hands and knees now, made towards it, leaning over the seat's rim once he'd reached it.

Fragments of the grilled cheese sandwich he'd hand for lunch and the egg and bacon pie that had been his breakfast were deposited painfully into the toilet, along with several body fluids and acids that burnt the throat as they went up. Adam coughed painfully a few times, his entire body shaking with reluctant sobs, then leant back against the base of the toilet, staring out ahead of him blankly.

Funny. Usually, he couldn't stand being in a bathroom for longer than he had to be. Hell, he couldn't even do a piss without Lawrence there to get him through it. That was why he'd gotten into the habit of doing liquid deliveries in the backyard, instead. He only came into the bathroom for solids. And showers, of course, but Lawrence rarely complained when Adam asked him to join him in the shower. Obviously.

Adam clenched his teeth angrily, though the tears still ran uncontrollably down his face with no sign of stopping, and his body still shook. After everything he'd done for that ungrateful bastard, all the things he'd said and done for him, all the comforting words he'd murmured to him when he'd woken up in the middle of the night, screaming his stupid head off.

Even though Adam had gone through more than he ever had, even though he, unlike Lawrence, had actually been left in that horrible place, left there to die, had actually thought for a few terrifying hours before help had arrived that he would die...

And now Adam had asked for one thing, just one thing -- a little comfort, a little support, and perhaps even for Lawrence stop lying to himself and everyone else and divorce Allison, stop telling her that he was on late-shifts when he was staying over at the younger man's house -- and what had happened? Lawrence had snapped, completely snapped.

Adam balled his fists tightly, anger seeping through him, comfortingly replacing the hurt and anguish.

You think what you went through in that bathroom was painful, Lawrence? he thought coldly, lowering his head slightly so that he was staring at the dirty, unattractive floor of his bathroom.

That was nothing compared to what I went through. And it was less than nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you when you come back, crawl back here to apologize and say you didn't mean what you said... Because I've had enough. I've had enough, Lawrence, and things are going to change, one way or another.

And then, perhaps what would seem strange to the average observer, Adam lifted his head and smiled, the tears still falling from his eyes.

Oooh... You've really done it now, Lawrence. Adam is MAD! And he is going to GET you! Sexually, of course. Otherwise this fanfic would be no fun at all to write. XD Anyway, review and see what happens!