Tommy sits alone in a corner of the café staring at his cup of coffee. To strangers it would have seemed as if he was just stoning. As if there was absolutely nothing going on in his head. And they were right. There was nothing going on in his head. Not right now anyway.

He slumps in his seat, a solemn expression on his face. The lights illuminated the dark circles under his eyes, hinting of sleepless nights spent staying up late consuming unhealthy amounts of alcohol.

He had no idea why he was out of his house at 11am in the morning. He hated the sun. He especially hated the way it shone down on him when he stepped out, blinding his vision, as if the whole fucking world was so bright and cheery. Because it wasn't. It wasn't cheery. Life. Isn't. Cheery. It's fucking depressing. And so was he.

It was Brad who had coaxed Tommy into "getting out of the house for some fresh air". He had insisted that it would be good for him, that he'd learn to like it. Tommy was once like that, he used to love socializing and being out during the day, but that memory was now so obscure, he had trouble even believing it was ever possible.

Tommy gulps down the rest of the coffee and sets the glass back down onto the table with a muted thud. Brad had offered to accompany him today and he had declined. He told Brad that he would heed his advice to go out, but he'd much rather be alone.

Tommy feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and without so much as a glance, he reaches down and answers the call. "Hey Brad," he says, his voice monotonous. I mean who else would be calling him other than Brad?

"Tommy!" Brad's voice is half surprised, half relieved as if he can't believe that Tommy had actually listened to his advice and was awake at this hour of the day. "Hey.. uhm.. What are you doing?"

"Wishing I was at home."

"So you're outside? Like... right now?"

"No, I'm fucking sleeping in my bed," Tommy snarls, not bothering to mask his irritation.

"Oh.. okay good – I'll just text you later then..Okay uhhm – bye."

And with that, the line goes dead.

Tommy senses the hurt in Brad's voice and guilt courses through him. He might be fucked up and a dick at times, but he definitely knows when he's taken it a little too far, especially after all that Brad has done for him. Brad was the best – and maybe the only true friend he had ever had and he didn't want to lose him.

Tommy's raging now. He's cursing under his breath, hating the fact that he was so fucked up. Fucked up and utterly useless. Why couldn't he be normal? Why did he have to hurt everyone he cared about?

He grabs his things, stomps his way out of the café and heads back to his apartment. It's cramped and dirty but he pays no mind to that as he steps in and slams the door shut, wincing at the loud bang his violence entails.

Tommy's decision is made. He makes his way to his bathroom, shedding his clothes as he goes. He opens his cabinet, reaching for the battered medical kit on the top shelf and proceeds to sit at the edge of the bathtub. He grabs a clean towel and lays it down on the floor in front of him.

He picks up one of the scalpels and takes a deep breath before positioning it with a steady hand against his skin. Tommy's eyes are focused, and his breathing is controlled as he presses the scalpel down, making a small incision. He sighs in satisfaction as his skin parts and blood wells up.

Two more deep breaths and Tommy's slicing carefully into his skin again.. and again. All he wants right now is to feel. To feel the pain that he causes others. The blood is the only way to release that poisonous guilt inside him, it's the only way he knows that he's clean, good again. Pain is cleansing, and he indulges in that thought.

Once he's satisfied he cleans himself up, wraps gauze around the fresh wounds and destroys all evidence before sinking into his bed. He pulls the covers up and over his head, drowning himself in darkness. He welcomes it.

Tommy wakes up with a start from a nightmare, his shirt drenched in sweat. He had dreamt that his boss had fired him, and the only way for him to survive was to beg for money from his estranged mother. Oh wait – that wasn't a dream.

Tommy groans inwardly, partly at the numb ache radiating from his latest wounds and partly at the realization that his worst nightmare was his reality.

He rolls to his side and extends his arm, reaching for his phone to check the time and squints as the phone lights up in his hand. It's 7pm. Shit, did he really knock out for that long?

There's a new text message from Brad. He takes a deep breath and opens it, half expecting Brad to be angry.

"Hey Tommy, look I'm sorry if I made you upset. Am just worried abt you. Pls call me asap? – Brad."

Brad was always taking the blame for him and Tommy hated it. It made him so mad. Furious. It takes a conspicuous amount of effort for him to calm the fuck down. He closes his eyes for a second and takes slow, deep breaths. Slow, and steady. It helps. Some. A little.

He calls Brad and he answers the phone almost too quickly.

"Hey Tommy!"

"Hey Brad what's up?"

Not wanting to waste any time, Brad goes straight to the point.

"Was just wondering if – maybe you wanna grab a drink tonight? Like old times?" Brad holds his breath, not knowing what answer to expect from Tommy.

"Where?"

"Ourusual," Brad says as calmly as possible, trying not to give away how nervous he really is.

"Sure," Tommy replies simply.

"Wh-what?" Brad's in disbelief. Surely it would take more convincing?

"Sure," Tommy repeats, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. He was still groggy and half awake.

"Uhhm.. Okay then! 10 o'clock?"

"Yup, okay."

And that was it. The plan was set.

Tommy wasn't sure why he had agreed to go out with Brad. Frankly he hated leaving his apartment. It was his sanctuary. He supposes that he had felt bad for being rude to Brad earlier today and had wanted to make it up to him.

He pulls on a pair of faded jeans and a hoodie before heading out. He takes a cab, deciding that if he was going to go out tonight, he might as well get shitfaced.

Tommy walks into the bar and immediately scans the place for Brad, his eyes darting quickly around the room. Finally, he spots him. But wait – he isn't alone. Brad is talking to another man, a taller man – with broad shoulders.

For a moment, Tommy panics. He isn't good at talking to people, much less strangers, Brad being the exception. He considers making a quick escape out of the bar before either of them spots him but it's too late. Brad's already smiling and waving at him.

Fuck my life. That was the only thing running through Tommy's mind as he trudges over to where they were sitting. He gives Brad a dirty look as he pulls up a stool and sits down.

"Hello Tommy!" Brad says cheerily.

"Hi," Tommy mumbles.

"I want you to meet my friend! This is Adam. Adam Lambert," Brad gestures in Adam's direction.

Brad's enthusiasm isn't returned, and Tommy nods mutely. He hasn't quite looked at Adam properly but he finds that he is forced to as Adam reaches out a hand intending for Tommy to shake it.

Tommy's eyes shoot up to Adam's face. He has strikingly handsome features Tommy realizes. Beautiful blue – or is that grey eyes. Whatever color Adam's eyes are, Tommy's lost in it. Drowning.

Shaking himself, Tommy extends his hand. Adam's warm hand grip Tommy's hand firmly. Almost too firmly. But it isn't threatening, just – comforting. This realization makes Tommy's face heat. What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. Him.

"Does he always act like this?" Adam asks Brad softly, his eyes still on Tommy. Adam's looking at Tommy with casual curiosity, as if he was something delicate, something precious.

"No, not really," Brad replies, seemingly surprised at the apparent spark between Tommy and Adam.

It gets awkward for Brad when he realizes that Adam and Tommy are still staring at each other, their gaze meeting at equal intensity. He almost feels like he's invincible.

Brad clears his to announce his presence and both Tommy and Adam jump involuntarily, pulling their hands away as if only just returning to planet Earth.

Breaking the silence Adam asks Tommy, "So what's your full name?"

"T- Tommy Joe Ratliff," he stutters.

Tommy can't take this uncouth situation any longer and before Adam can answer, he mumbles something about needing to attend to his watch and dashes for the restroom.

He locks himself inside the cubicle and leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. What the fuck is he thinking. He can't ignore the fluttery shit he feels at the base of his stomach. It's forming into a pool and eating him from the inside out. He likes Adam.

No, he can't do that. He can't like Adam. Noone will ever love him back. Not with the scars that littered his hands. Not with his fucked up character and his fucked up life. That person had to be crazy. Cuckoo.

He tries to collect himself, taking deep breathes. Counting them as he breathes in.. 1, 2, 3.. and breathes out. He repeats this until he can think rationally again. He concludes that tonight will lead to nothing. Nothing at all.

He steps out of the cubicle; feeling more composed and splashes water on his face. Tommy isn't sure how long he had spent in the bathroom. He wasn't actually wearing a watch but when he steps out he realizes that Brad.. is gone. This meant that Tommy is alone – with Adam.

At this moment, Tommy's heart rate is somewhere between tachycardia and imminent infarction. In other words, he feels as if his heart is about to fall out of his chest as he makes his way back to their table, paying careful attention not to trip on anything to avoid further embarrassment. He smiles clinically at Adam as he sits down, and that's all he can manage.

"Brad said something about needing to be somewhere and took off, so I guess it's just you and me Tommy Joe," Adam says happily.

Not knowing what to reply, Tommy just grins stupidly, fully aware that he probably looks like a complete idiot. They order their drinks.

It's hard at first but once Adam sets the pace of their conversation Tommy falls into it and they're on the same wavelength, which is exhilarating. For once, Tommy forgets everything outside the confines of the bar and it's soothing because Tommy doesn't have to try and control anything. Adam is doing it for him.

As Adam drawls on, Tommy can't help but stare at his hands and he imagines them on him. No, all over him. Tommy blushes when he realizes what he must sound like.

His blush turns a deeper red when Adam tells him that he seems preoccupied.

"I wanna fuck you Adam," Tommy blurts out, giggling.

"Wh-what?" Adam asks, his eyes widening.

"I said I want to fuck you Adam," Tommy repeats defiantly.

"You- Wait a minute – You're gay?" Adam's eyes get impossibly bigger.

Of all the things Adam could think of replying, he asks if I'm gay. Does he really need a confirmation for that? Tommy wonders. "Does it matter? I want to fuck is a universal language."

"You're drunk."

"No. I'm not. You're taking me home, and then you're going to fuck me through the mattress,'' Tommy slurs.

"Tommy Joe, I'm taking you home but the only thing you're doing on that mattress is sleeping, Brad gave me your address. Let's go,'' Adam says, finality in his voice.

And maybe Tommy is drunk. Or he just can't find the energy to argue because the next thing he knows he's on his bed, with the covers over him— and Adam's gone. He wants to cry and scream, and at this point he hates his life more than he ever imagined he could. The one person he wanted didn't want him back and it hurts. It hurts like a bitch. He wants to do something to chase the pain in his chest away but right now; it was all he could do to lie down as darkness took over.

I will be continuing this story and it'll include some graphic sexual scenes of course. :D

Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please do leave a review. I'd like to know your comments!

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