a/n: this was based off a tiny post made by the tumblr user adamtorres! i don't think i can link it here, but it inspired me so yay!

you're gonna be the one that saves me

because maybe
you're gonna be the one that saves me.
and after all,
you're my wonderwall.

— wonderwall, oasis

"Were you scared?" Becky whispers into the pale darkness. The only noise in Adam's small bedroom is their unsteady breaths and the low volume of his stereo, churning out some song Adam thought she'd like ("Whenever I listen to it, I think about you," is what he'd said, and she'd bit her lip in that way he likes). The two of them lay still on his bed, facing each other, so close their noses could touch. Becky has her hand against his cheek, rubbing gentle circles along his skin. He feels so soft.

Adam's eyes flicker downward; he takes in a breath, sharp. "T-Terrified," he stutters. He thinks back to that night. He'd volunteered to be a waiter with Eli, just so he could have a little fun at the dance. He hadn't expected anything so sinister to happen. Just thinking about the way his white shirt melted to red so fast made him shudder.

Becky looks at him with something almost motherly in her eyes (which is kind of gross, actually, but he can't think of any other way to put it). Her forehead scrunches, eyebrows knitting together as her teeth pull on her lower lip. She drags her hand along from his face to his neck, and to his shoulder. He shifts uncomfortably under his weight - apparently her subtle movement did not go unnoticed.

"I don't..." he starts, licking his lips as a nervous tremor causes them to quiver, "I don't like to think about that night...It kind of, well, sucked." He laughs, more to soften the moment than anything.

Becky nods, and her hair scrapes against his pillow. Her hand is still on his shoulder.

He inhales a huge breath of air, before suddenly jerking up. Becky can feel his desperation to change the subject, or at least to make it lighthearted. "Do you, uh, you wanna see my scar?" He sounds so eager, and looking into his eyes, she can see them sparkle, as though he thinks of the scar as a badge of honor he loves showing off. She loves it when he gets like this, giddy as a schoolboy. A giggle escapes her before she can fake one, and she nods as she sits upright.

Adam unzips his hoodie quickly, throwing it onto the edge of his chair across the room. (He misses, obviously.) Becky watches him methodically smooth out his t-shirt - it's loose-fitting, like a lot of his clothes, but Becky can clearly see his arms now and she gets those little butterflies in her stomach upon seeing them. Something about the sight of his bare skin sends ripples through Becky, makes her stomach go all...tingly.

He reaches for his right shoulder, pulling down his sleeve carefully, until a little white sliver pops out against his skin. It's daunting, yet so infinitesimal. It's just a small, thin white line, isn't it? But it isn't.

Becky's eyes are wide. Adam begins to regret his decision to do this, but then she brings her fingers to his shoulder. Slowly, she runs her index finger down the line, tracing it. And then she does it again. And again. As if she can't believe it's real unless she touches it.

"It was..." he starts, then stops. He doesn't know if he can say it without sounding like a wimp. But then Becky looks at him, and he feels strong. "It was so horrifying. I thought...I thought I was gonna die."

Becky gulps harshly, staring into him, like she's investigating his soul, not just his eyes. And then she looks at her fingers tracing his scar. Slowly, she drags her fingers down and away, and lays her lips gently to his shoulder. It's a startling feeling; her lips are warm on his cold flesh. He wants them to stay there forever.

"It's okay," she whispers against him, grabbing his hand that has unwittingly placed itself over hers. Her fingers are warm too. Ice and fire, he thinks. It's wonderful. "You're okay now. You have me now."

With his stomach suddenly sparking on fire, he swoops her lips up into a kiss. She puts her hand around the back of his neck, and when she pulls away, rests her forehead against his.

"Yeah, that's - kind of awesome." he says, and she smiles, bringing him down to lay with her again, wrapped up in each other's arms. He looks at her, sprawled against his bed, glowing honey-yellow in her sundress and with her flaxen hair. It's not kind of awesome. It's really, really amazing.