Hi everyone! This chapter is quite long, and the most part is about Julian and Adam's past, just to wrap that up. Next chapters will be shorter (I hope XD) and will only take place in the present time. If I don't change my mind about things ;)

Disclaimers: I do not own all recognizable characters, they belong to CP Coulter and her fic Dalton.

I hope you enjoy this chapter :)


Chapter 7: Free Falling


Past

.

Over the next few weeks, Julian noticed some changes about his newest friend. Changes he didn't really know how to deal with. Adam grew more possessive—obviously jealous when the actor wasn't hanging out with him, obviously chagrined when the actor wasn't paying attention to him. It was kind of unsettling to realize that the sweet, kind, compassionate boy Julian had gotten used to, was now growing into something the actor couldn't quite understand.

They were at Adam's place when it all escalated. Julian had just wrapped up a tiring day filled with interviews and long talks to reporters and paparazzi regarding his newest movie. Adam had offered him a place to escape to, since no one really knew the actor was hanging out with him, so no one would suspect him of being here.

As the actor plopped down on the couch, Adam stood in the middle of the room, merely watching him, his gaze so intense and devoted it made Julian feel a little bit awkward.

He patted the space besides him, sepia eyes carrying an oddly calculated look as they glanced at the boy. He'd been acting weirder the past few weeks. "Why don't we watch a movie, Adam?"

Seeming to come out of his trance, Adam shook his head lightly and smiled. "Yeah—that would be nice. Which one do you want to watch?" he walked to the television, giving Julian a questioning look.

The actor waved his hand through the air. "I don't really care. As long as it doesn't have me in it."

Staring at his stack of DVDs, Adam bit his lips—wondering if he actually had something that didn't star Julian Larson. "Uhm... Sure," he sighed in relief when he found a movie that was so old, Julian had been too young to play in any movies at that time. "Romance is good?"

"Romance is fine."

Adam jammed the DVD in its place, his heart flying through his entire body in his thrilled excitement. He was going to watch a romantic movie with Julian Larson. He was going to watch a romantic movie with Julian Larson. Once the DVD was in and he'd pressed play, he scrambled up from his kneeling position and hurried to the couch, flicking off the lights on his way.

He tried to stay still through the opening credits—he honestly tried to stay still—but, almost unconsciously, he started to scoot closer to the actor, not noticing how Julian threw him a bewildered look when he practically leaned against him when the first love-scenes played out.

The lights of the television created illuminating shadows of strange, flickering colors that threw themselves across the dark room, shimmering over the two boys on the couch, wrapping them in an oddly unreal world in which only they and the movie existed.

Julian felt uncomfortable.

Adam felt absolutely, positively thrilled.

Carefully, he laid a hand on Julian's knee, butterflies spreading their million wings as he felt Julian's warmth radiate through his palm. He gazed at the actor, noticing how his jaw was clenched and his eyes stubbornly set on the movie—and he smiled quietly. He would have to be careful. But wasn't he always? Always cautious not to hurt Julian, or not to scare him away—because, how many of those creeps must this beautiful boy have had that wanted to claim him for themselves? It must have been dozens... Adam was just really glad none of them had succeeded and that they were together now, and that Julian finally saw that they belonged like this. Together.

The man and the woman in the movie—and why did it always have to be a man and a woman, Adam thought hastily, because what they had, what Julian and he had, was love, too—they tenderly clutched each other's hands, gazing into the other's eyes with a loving look that Adam could not bear to look at.

He wanted to share such a look...

He glanced sideways to the actor, whose eyes were still glued to the movie, even though Adam doubted he was really watching it.

He scooted closer just a little bit more.

Julian turned around, eyes tingling with an emotion that could've been annoyance—but what changed upon seeing Adam's longing, devoted, passionate, loving look. A look he had been waiting to receive for so many years.

Adam smiled, and they bowed their heads closer.

When the man and the woman on the movie clashed together in a passionate kiss—the two boys on the couch let their lips touch tenderly, their kiss surprisingly soft and sweet and gentle.

Adam let go of Julian's knee to reach up and cup his face, angling his head so he could deepen the kiss.

The kiss had two opposite effects, though.

While Julian's heart melted, his entire body relaxing with the knowledge that apparently he was worth these kind of looks, and that these kind of looks and this affection could be given to him—Adam's heart expanded and exploded with a love so great and so intense and so enormous, that it drove him quite literally insane.

His mind seemed to be constructed out of a thousand tiny radars and Julian's kiss and his fingers that laid gently on Adam's arm and leg had triggered them into movement—making all those radars spin and wheel around smoothly, loosening some emotion that had been hidden deep inside of him. And all he could think of, all that was racing through his head, were three simple words.

He is mine.

Slow caresses and gentle tenderness were suddenly thrown aside, and his fingers dug into Julian's clothes, dragging the actor closer, his mind paying no attention to the fact that Julian's hands were planted firmly against his chest—not in affection, not to pull him closer, but in a desperate act to push him away.

Adam's fingers were drilling in his skin, the power of his grasp constricting the blood flow in his arms, and Adam's teeth were raking over Julian's lips and face—and it was too much, too fast, too rough to be comfortable.

"Adam—" Julian mumbled against teeth and lips, and he pushed harder, but the boy was too strong and it was hopeless, and he was beginning to feel hopeless, and he just wanted to get out of here.

"Adam, please—"

Adam pulled back the tiniest bit, leaving a space just big enough to speak properly. "I know, I know," he brought a hand up to stroke a stray brown lock of hair from Julian's forehead. His eyes were smoldering coals as he leaned forwards again, his lips hovering over Julian's, his whispering words fierce and sharp, cutting through the air like swords. "I know, Julian. I'm so happy you finally saw this, saw us, like I've been seeing us for months—for years..."

"Adam..." a growing panic settled in his heart, and his eyes were wide as he stared at the boy—an absolute stranger now—in utter disbelief. "Adam... don't..."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Julian—I'll never hurt you..." his lips crashed to Julian's, and the actor moaned in protest and a blinding fear—but Adam interpreted it all wrong, and when Julian tried to kick him off, they rolled over and fell off the couch with a loud bang.

Turning his head to the side, Julian gasped for air, his hands furiously trying to lift Adam's heavy body off of his—but dear God, why was he so strong? "Adam, Adam—what are you doing? Why are you doing th—"

Adam grabbed his face, turning it to him again, effectively shutting him up. "Don't be afraid, Julian."

Sepia eyes grew wide with fear as he saw a strange emotion shimmer in those dark coals of Adam—a fierce emotion that was crazy, insane, driven mad by love and devotion and obsession...

"Adam..." he whispered, not able to speak properly because of the hold Adam had on his jaw. "What happened..."

"You happened... Don't you see it?" Adam's face split into a brilliant smile—and for one small moment, Julian could see that boy again, sweet, patient, loving—but then Adam narrowed his eyes and the insanity returned. The insanity that may have been there all along—lingering, lurking, waiting for the right time to break free in all its frightening glory.

Adam's touches hurt him—the way he was straddling him was not right, his knees jotting into Julian's sides forcefully, Adam's hands tearing over his body like it was his already.

Julian had never felt this powerless, he had never ever felt this out of control of his own body. But then there was a gap—just this split second that Adam leaned back to let his eyes wander over the actor's body with that mad, obsessive expression—and Julian shot forward, unbalancing the fanboy, his knee coming up to slam hard in between Adam's legs.

Adam yelled in pain, rolling off Julian with his hands clutching his crotch, and Julian scrambled up, tripping and stumbling as he ran from the room, nearly breaking the door in his haste to go outside. He didn't wait for the elevator, but immediately dashed off the stairs—tripping and falling several times—and his cheeks were streaked with tears of panic and fear, and he felt dirty as he made his way outside the building, well aware of the thundering footsteps behind him that were Adam's.

He slammed the door of the building shut, and sprinted out, his eyes huge and his breathing ragged and wild. His heart was absolutely hysterical, fluttering so fiercely it actually hurt his chest.

After a few minutes of running thoughtlessly—just running, just getting away from that creep—he realized he wasn't running to his own house... but to Derek's.

A sob escaped him as he rang the bell impatiently, only now noticing it was drizzling gently, the soft rain laying a coat of droplets over his hair, face and clothes. He'd forgotten to bring along his jacket and he was cold.

Derek's voice crackled through the intercom, and Julian practically flung himself at the device, his hands clawing in the wall as he frantically searched the roads for that familiar figure.

"Derek—it's me. You have to let me in. Please let me in—you have to help me!" he was hysterical now, throwing out words, choking on his breath, his fingers curling into tight fists. His heart plummeted when he thought about what so easily could have happened. "Help me..."

"Jules? Jules! What the hell happened? Wait—come inside. Now."

There was a low, buzzing sound, and without hesitation, Julian pushed the door open, closed it securely, and darted up the stairs.


Present

.

The three men looked up as Logan stepped in the room, sly grins playing around their lips as they straightened up from their crouches. One of the men—big, muscled, dark, clearly in charge—stepped forward with a cunning expression in his beetle-like eyes, his fingers tapping almost casually on the gun hanging on his hip.

"Logan Wright, I assume?"

Logan narrowed his eyes, his gaze flickering to the faces of the men, occasionally glancing down to their weapons and the hands hovering over them.

"Who are you?"

The dark man smirked, his white teeth forming a stark contrast with his dark skin, and his eyes glinted dangerously. "Clavell sent us. Apparently," he narrowed his eyes, "you've been acting disobedient."

Logan's heart dropped, and his eyes swiveled from the kitchen door and back to the three men staring at him. He raised an eyebrow arrogantly, lifting his chin and crossing his arms over his chest. "So why are you here?"

The dark man's grin got wider and he pulled out his gun in a quick movement, waving it casually to Logan. "We've been told to kill you if you don't finish your job."

"Finish my job?" Logan got cold, knowing exactly what they were expecting from him. Sure enough, one of the other two men stepped forward now—blond, short, eyes piercing through the sniper like they could see everything.

"Kill the actor."

The dark man looked around sharply, not appreciating the fact that the other man had spoken before him. "Briggs, back off. I got this."

The blond man—Briggs—narrowed his eyes at him, but obeyed easily, obviously trained to do so.

Logan lifted his eyebrows in surprise, glancing at the gun pointed to him before gazing in narrowed dark eyes. "What? Now? I have to kill him now?"

"If you know what good is for you—yes," the dark man smiled menacingly, raking the fingers of his free hand over his gun. "And if you do not do so—we'll finish the job. Of course, you'll understand that we can't let you live when we've killed Larson."

Logan bit his lip, looking back to the kitchen door and wishing with all his heart that Julian wasn't about to be stupid and step out of that room. His eyes fell on a window, and as he looked outside, he saw the ever-existing paparazzi there—hidden between bushes, behind buildings, umbrellas protecting their expensive cameras and sound-systems against the steadily drizzling rain. His stomach churned in frustration.

"Of course I'll kill him," he fired back. "I just don't think you understand how this works." His voice was a hissed whisper—angry, but afraid to alert Julian in the kitchen. He wondered if the brunet was hearing this conversation and whether he was thinking of a way to escape. "I can't just storm in there and pull my gun—look at what is outside. All of that paparazzi, all of those people, they won't miss it! I'll be fucking screwed if they catch it on tape—you'll be screwed when they catch it on tape. Let's just take this easy and think it a bit through, guys."

The dark man didn't smile, didn't waver, didn't even blink. He cocked his gun and aimed it at Logan's head. "Go in there now. If we don't hear a gunshot in the next five minutes, you're both dead," his voice was low and dangerous. "Your choice, Wright." He nodded at the other two men, standing behind him like guards. "These two here are Briggs and Stokes. They have a record of twenty murders each. Won't suggest you to anger them. Or me, for that matter."

Logan had to do his best not to snort. They all knew he had more on his record than anyone in this room. "Fine," he said after only a brief moment of hesitation. "But I assure you that you will not have to barge in there like the primitive cavemen you are," he added coldly, eyes shooting fire. "I'll finish it myself."

He turned around stiffly and walked in the kitchen, slamming the door shut with a resounding bang.

Julian looked up at him with bored, brown eyes, leaning against the counter lazily as he cocked an eyebrow. "And? You sent them out? It sounded like you were having a bit of an argument in there."

Logan exhaled slowly, green eyes gazing in brown as he let his hand travel to his gun.

"Logan—what the hell are you doing?"

His fingers clenched around cold metal, and without another thought, he pulled his gun, aiming it right at Julian.


Past

.

Adam was furious as he raced behind Julian out of the building, stopping dead when the door clicked shut behind him. It was cold outside, his breath coming out in white puffs of air. His dark eyes roamed the streets, uncertain of which way the actor had left.

Why would he do that in the first place? Why would he run?

Shaking his head shortly, Adam decided to visit Julian's apartment first, and he proceeded to sprint down the road, catching a bus just in time so he could get there quickly. The bus ride was a hell—way too slow, way too many stops. But when he was finally there, he dashed out of the vehicle and made his way to the actor's apartment. There was paparazzi scattered around the place, as usual, but they didn't pay him attention as he yanked the door open and ran inside.

The door was opened easily enough, having nicked Julian's keys out of his coat that he'd left hanging. Adam felt a sharp pang of frustration and bitter disappointment as he stepped inside and saw that the actor was not here. He must've gone straight to Derek, but Adam had no idea where the athlete lived.

He sighed, a sob catching in his throat and struggling its way out of his mouth.

This was unfair. So, so unfair. He finally had him. He had him. And now... now he had lost him...

He licked his lips, still tasting the fragrance of Julian Larson, the image of him lying beneath him—vulnerable, wide-eyed, absolutely gorgeous—was forever imprinted in his mind and Adam relished in that memory, clutching the fabric over his heart while he thought about it.

Fury bubbled up again as the memory of Julian leaving came up, and Adam stomped further in the room, collapsing on a couch and rubbing his face firmly. While he was sitting there, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands—his eyes fell on a box that was half-hidden behind a chair. Curiosity getting the better of him, he stood up from the couch and crouched in front of the box.

Dozens and dozens of unsent letters—crumpled up, yellow with age, edges torn, and ink splattered all over them—were stacked in there, and Adam's eyes went wide as he carefully took one, folding it open and reading it.

Logan,

I know I haven't contacted you since I left, and I'm sorry. I was just really busy, but... at the moment... I'm not anymore. And I was wondering if maybe we could meet up somewhere? I don't know if you're okay with that. I don't know if you actually care, but...

The rest was crossed out and Adam frowned in confusion, flipping the letter over to see that it was dated only two years ago. He threw the letter aside and picked up another one, eyes sprinting over the neatly written words.

Hi Lo,

I'm sorry I haven't called you back, or answered all your texts. Man, why did you send so many anyway? Anyway... I was thinking that maybe we should see each other again? Maybe we could meet again? I know you're still at Dalton, Derek told me. But maybe...

Again, the rest was crossed out so thickly that the words had become unreadable. The date resembled the last one, and Adam dropped the letter to the ground and chose another one from the disturbingly large pile. This one looked rather new, whiter than the others, less torn than the others—and it was with his heart in his throat that Adam read the date first. It was dated less than a year ago. Panic was growing with a striking speed, and his chest hurt with the sharp breaths he took.

John Logan Wright III,

I'm bi. I've known since I was 13. I've loved you since I was 14. I've loved you since I've first laid eyes on you. You probably don't remember. I don't expect you to remember. You don't really care about it anyway. But frankly, I don't care about that. You're a stuck up asshole and I wish I'd never fallen for you. Yes, I hate you. Why don't you just disappear out of my life, okay? Just go. GO AWAY. I hate you so much, Logan. You stupid, stupid asshole. Making me fall in love with you. Stupid, stupid ass.

The rest was unreadable as it was written down ugly and thickly, the words running in to each other messily—obviously written in an undeniably stormy emotional state.

Adam choked and he threw the letter away with force, picking up one that seemed just as new. The date was set only mere months ago, and he read it with a heavy, black heart and a loud buzzing sound in his ears. This one just stated six simple words.

Lo,

I love you.

Forever, Jules

Traitorous tears slid over Adam's cheeks and the letter slipped from his fingers as he looked up at the ceiling, violent sobs tearing from his chest . It hurt. And he felt utterly, thoroughly betrayed. He thought they had something. He thought they had a thing. But apparently, everything was a lie. Apparently, the actor had only used him as a distraction. Adam wasn't dumb. He could see it now.

Those wide eyes hadn't been a plea to go on. They had reflected fear and a plea to stop.

Still... Adam refused to believe that they didn't belong together. Because he knew with all of his heart that they did. They did belong together. They would defy gravity together. They would light up the world together. They would be gorgeous together.

He did believe that.

He wasn't going to stop until Julian saw this, too.

Sighing in disappointment, he hung his head when he realized that the actor would probably be reluctant to share that belief. But that wasn't bad. That was okay. Because Adam believed in heaven, too. And everyone knew that heaven was the place for your dreams to come true—even if they didn't come true in real life, even if they betrayed you on earth.

He stood up from his crouching position, leaving the basket and the letters for what they were, not sparing them a second look.

A serene smile played around his lips, his eyes staring dreamily into space, threads of madness flickering inside of them. He would get them to heaven. He would get them both to heaven. Because... because if he could do that—and he would accomplish it, one way or another—they would finally be together forever. They would be happy together.

Another tear trickled languidly down his cheek, and his smile widened—insane, crazy, wildly in love.

Oh yes... he would get them to heaven.


Present

.

Upon seeing the gun directed at his face, Julian stumbled backwards against the counter, knocking over pans and glasses that were standing on it. His eyes became huge, nearly swallowing his pale face, sepia gaze fixed motionlessly on the gun. His heart stuttered for a few seconds before rapidly bouncing against his ribcage, as if wildly desperate to get out of here before it was too late. The actor sagged a little, his hands clenching around the edge of the counter so he would not collapse on the floor.

He exhaled shakily, struggling to keep his breathing steady.

Green eyes were like lightening as they stared at the brunet, and they narrowed while Logan's finger curled around the gun, a sharp click echoing through the deadly quiet kitchen as he cocked it.

"Logan—" the whisper—choked out, barely audible, words laced with utter fear and desperation—cut through the silent air, and Julian's shoes made a squeaking sound as he shifted his stance. He stopped dead when the gun followed him with a sharp movement, and Julian's eyes welled with tears, unable to stop them in his blood curling fear.

He'd looked down a barrel before. But never—never ever—had he looked down a barrel that was held by his friend. A friend he'd trusted with his life.

"Logan—" he tried it again with a raspy voice. "What... what are you doing?"

Logan pressed his lips together, well aware of the fact that he was only promised five minutes, and one of them had just been wasted for nothing.

"I'm sorry Julian," he murmured, bringing his finger down to pull the trigger. He pulled it the tiniest fraction of a inch—just not far enough to actually fire the gun—and froze, his heart beating as fast as the wings of a humming-bird. His green eyes fell on brown ones, and he found it physically impossible to pull the trigger completely. He could see it all in his mind—the images of dozens of people shot before Julian—how the actor would exhale his last breath, how he would collapse pathetically, how the blood would splatter all up the walls, how it would create a shiny, red pool on the floor.

Three minutes.

The gun trembled in his hands.

"Lo... What are you doing?" came the ragged whisper again.

Logan looked up, expression tortured and frustrated, and he noticed how all the color had left Julian's face. His lips were pale, his usually flushed cheeks were a chalky white. It looked wrong on him.

His free hand raked through his hair and he closed his eyes for the smallest moment as he aimed the gun again, fully intending to shoot this time, practically begging his finger to just fucking curl this time.

Sweat was dripping from both Julian and Logan's temples, both eyes were locked together for what seemed like an eternity.

Two minutes.

His mind was utter chaos—thoughts trashing around like wildfire—and Logan exhaled slowly.

Maybe—maybe—he hadn't missed entirely on accident when he'd pulled the trigger on Julian Larson that first time. Maybe he'd fully intended to miss. Intention being buried deep inside, that is, but still... maybe he'd always meant to miss this target.

His eyes widened with this sudden realization. A realization he knew to be true.

He couldn't possibly shoot. He couldn't possibly shoot...

One minute.

Green eyes closed and the gun swung downwards as he brought his arm to his side. Julian took a shaking breath, his eyes shooting from the weapon to Logan, who was standing there with his eyes closed and his chest heaving.

"Fuck."

It could've been a gunshot. Julian jumped in the air, startled so badly, he knocked over the remaining stuff on the counter and nearly fell to the floor himself.

The knocking on the door—slow, almost teasing—made Logan open his eyes hastily, and Julian had no time to prepare himself as he brought his gun up again.

"Yes, yes—I'm fucking done here, you fucking vultures!" he yelled, and with that, he pulled the trigger resolutely.

Julian screamed—even though it wasn't a real scream with how tight his throat was, making his voice pathetically squeaky, making it sound like someone had stepped on a mouse.

"Hear that? It's done, he's dead!" Logan pushed his gun back in its holster and laid his finger on his lips in a keep-quiet gesture as he dashed to the window.

Julian's eyes were wide and staring straight ahead as his chest struggled to move and get oxygen in his body. The bullet was inches from his head, penetrated in the wall right next to him. His knuckles grew white as he clutched to the counter, having to use all his power not to fall on the floor.

The door handle creaked as it was pushed down, and Logan whipped his head around to watch it in horror, fear keeping him paralyzed for a moment.

Time was up.

Logan leaned over the counter and knocked the window open, wheeling around to grab a chair and to push it under the handle, preventing it from opening any further. Loud curses erupted from the men behind the door, and Logan let out a stream of profanities as he rounded on the actor, clutching his elbow and yanking him in the direction of the opened window.

"Jump," he hissed, but Julian was stunned with so many emotions, he could only shake his head as he stared out of the window.

"That's... that's a drop of three floors—do you think I'm mad?" he whispered back, heart still in his throat.

The door made a noisy cracking sound as the three men used all their weight to get through it, and fear clenched around Logan's heart as he glanced back to the door and then to the frightened actor. Grabbing both his shoulders, he leaned down till they were nose to nose.

"Listen, Princess, it's either this or being shot in the head. Your fucking choice, but I know I will jump. So, if you'd just go fucking first," and with these words, he pushed the actor over the counter.

Julian's hands clenched around the window sill, and he felt terribly nauseous as he looked down. The rain swept his face, the wind making hair fly everywhere. He looked back, absolutely horrified, looking for reassurance from Logan, even though that was the same man that had just wanted to shoot him.

At the same moment that sepia touched an unblinking green, the door burst open violently, the chair collapsing onto the floor loudly. Logan shouted curses and whirled around, his gun out of the holster in a split second, almost immediately shooting at the intruders.

"For fuck's sake, Julian—jump!" he bellowed, and Julian—so startled and terrified of the sudden shooting that had erupted in his kitchen—almost fell out of the window, landing on the wet grass underneath it with a sickening crash that drove all the air out of his longs.

From the window above of him, he heard a crackling shot and an anguished scream, and the next thing he knew, Logan was beside him, having landed smoothly in a crouch. The blond yanked Julian up by his arm and pulled him with him as they ran for their lives.


Past

.

A few days passed, and Julian never heard anything from Adam. It unsettled him, this sudden absence. Normally, Adam would call or text him every single day, never not letting anything hear from him. This sudden silence made him feel more uncomfortable, and it made him gaze over his shoulder more than a few times walking over streets.

It was a full week later that Adam suddenly showed up.

When Julian went to open the front door—expecting Derek who visited almost every day—he had to do a double take when his eyes fell on that familiar face, and he stumbled backwards in shock.

"Adam..." he breathed, fear jamming its sharp claws in his heart immediately.

The taller boy forced his way inside, a creepy smile painted on his lips, his eyes glistening with a madness that Julian recognized from a week ago.

"Adam, what are you doing here?" Julian asked quietly, entire posture betraying his wariness.

"Don't you want me here?" Adam tilted his head to the side, walking in the room, looking as if he was casually strolling through his own house. His dark eyes were captivating, and Julian's calculated sepia gaze couldn't escape them.

"No..." he said cautiously, carefully watching Adam's reactions like he was a snake about to strike. "I thought that was pretty obvious from what happened a week ago."

Adam's expression turned a tad sad when the actor said this, and Julian almost expected an apology, even a bit taken aback when that didn't came. Instead, Adam turned vicious again, turning his blazing eyes to the smaller boy as he nearly spat the words in his face. "That was pure love, Julian. I can't believe you ran away from it! How could you?"

Two big steps and he was nose to nose with Julian, two pairs of brown eyes staring at each other—one pair painfully afraid, the other one smoldering with fury.

"How could you ignore our love? How could you be so blind to it? While it's so obvious!" Adam grimaced, his madness once again shining through, and Julian wondered how he could've missed out on that before.

"Adam..."

"Our love outshines everything, Julian," Adam's eyes welled with tears of joy, his cheeks flushed in his thrilled excitement, his gestures wild and big. "It's brighter than the sun! I love you so, so much. And you love me too! You know that."

He advanced on the actor, and Julian stepped back, moving further in the living room, not comfortable that Adam was now standing between the door—the only escape he had—and himself.

"Adam!" He was beginning to feel irritated now, and he wanted to break through in the boy's thoughts—but yet again, he was interrupted by a cry of joy.

"But I have figured it out, of course. I will always find ways to save our love."

Julian pressed his lips together and lifted his chin in the sort of stubborn fearlessness you'd expect from a 19-year-old. "You're sick... you have to go away, you need help."

His mood swings were faster and frequenter than those of a pregnant woman, and suddenly Adam was sweet again, eyes softening as they locked with Julian's. "No... I'm not sick," he smiled that charming smile that Julian recognized from the old, harmless, happy Adam. "You could call me love-sick, but other than that..."

Julian exhaled sharply, wondering where the fuck those bodyguards were if you needed them. He almost toppled over in shock when Adam reached in his back pocket and got out a gun, stroking his fingers over the metal, his expression happier than ever.

"We could both be in heaven... Julian... don't you understand? Everything is glorious in heaven... We could be glorious in heaven. Don't you want that?"

Julian shook his head, wide-eyes glued to the gun in a fear so great it whirled through his body, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. He'd only been held under gunshot in movies, never would he have dreamt of the same scene happening in reality. He backed away slowly, but even though his apartment was rather big considering he lived in it alone, it was still too small to create enough space between him and the gun.

Adam's voice was warm and sincere as he spoke, eyes widening to display his honesty. "I'll protect you, Julian. Forever."

"You're—you're sick, Adam—please, please stay away from me..."

Although the smile stayed, his entire posture changed in a heartbeat. Brown eyes sparkled menacingly, fingers clenched around his gun protectively. But the smile stayed—it always, always... stayed. "How can you say that—I'll never walk away from you!"

It was the smile that would haunt Julian's dreams. Not the obsessive eyes, not the blood curling words, not the gunshot... It was the smile—that god-awful, creepy, fake smile.

The gunshot that followed rocked his world, and it took Julian a moment to orientate, to notice where it came from—not from Adam's weapon, not from the bodyguards that suddenly chose to appear, crowding through the front door that Adam had left open...

When Adam fell, it was Derek that stood behind him—his breaths ragged and irregular, his shaking hands holding a smoking gun, his brown eyes wide with utter shock.

A pool of dark red blood was slowly starting to spread over Julian's wooden floor, but the actor barely paid attention to it as Derek had dropped the gun and flew towards his friend, embracing him tightly.

"Are you alright?"

"H-how did you g-get a gun?" Julian stammered, having difficulty tearing his eyes away from the fallen Adam and to look at his friend in utter amazement.

Derek's eyes were glistening with unshed tears as he once again hugged his friend. "I stole it from one of those idiots," he inclined his head to the bodyguards, who were now calling an ambulance and inspecting the lifeless body on the floor. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Julian blinked, swallowing thickly. "Is he... Is he dead...?" his gaze touched Adam who was lying on the floor bleeding out.

Derek shivered before answering, and Julian realized that if Adam was dead—if he was actually dead—that Derek would've killed him. He threw an arm around his friend, finally answering the hug.

"I'm alright, D. You came... you came just in time... thanks..."

Giving him a thin smile, Derek shrugged. "Anytime, Jules. Let's get out of here...?"

"Yes, please," Julian breathed, fear and a slight hysteria still tearing through his body. He tilted his head, resting it on Derek's shoulder as they slowly walked out of the room, leaving the bodyguards to deal with the mess. In the distance, they could hear the sirens of the ambulances and the police.

"The media will have a fucking field day with this," Derek murmured, voicing the exact same thoughts of the actor.

It was silent for a while as they stood outside, the fresh air an absolute relief after the stale, oppressive atmosphere inside.

"At least it's over, right?" Julian's voice trembled and broke, sounding hesitative and unsure. He glanced at the athlete as if searching for reassurance.

Derek nodded resolutely, voice hoarse as he agreed. "At least it's over."


Thanks for reading, and I'd really, really like to hear your thoughts :) Reviews are like gold to me ;)

Also, this Sunday I'm going to Paris, and I won't be back until Thursday next week. I won't be able to write anything, but I'll try to have the next chapter out as soon as possible, but you know, it could take a little while longer.

See you next time!

- Rose