A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for another update! And a pretty happy one, too, where our beloved Adam tries something new…

Adam In His Purest Form

"Well…"

Peter J. Woolman puts his hand on his forehead. He introduced himself when Adam and Jake entered his office, and since then, Adam's been calling him The Wolf Man in his head. Now, they're sitting in front of The Wolf Man's expensive desk on expensive chairs, and Adam hopes that it doesn't notice that he's dripping with sweat.

Something he hasn't even noticed himself – and something he really doesn't want The Wolf Man to notice – is that under the desk, he clutches to Jake's hand as if his life depended on it.

And it does.

Because if he doesn't get this job, he's doomed. Then, there's nothing to go back to, then he has to take a job at Applebee's or something else that he's done before and that he does not want to do again.

And he can't stay unemployed.

He must have that fucking suit.

That's why Jake dragged him out of bed this morning with a stack of New York Times in his arms. When Adam managed to nag enough to get permission to eat breakfast, Jake showed him all the working ads he'd found. They were in a part of the paper that Adam never so much as looks in, the part that he always browse pass every morning simply because he knows that all of his dreams will be broken if he looks at them too closely, encircled with a blue pen.

New York seems to have more to offer unemployed photographers than Adam thought.

But only if they haven't always been unemployed. Because Adam's roamed around with Jake over what now feels as practically the entire city, his feet are aching, and it's really for no purpose, because no matter how interested the guys with expensive desks seemed when he came in, it apparently was a turnoff when they asked him about his previous jobs, and the only honest reply he could give them was 'Burger King.'

But now, they're here. Woolman's publishing. Adam's given The Wolf Man his resume, the Wolf Man has glanced over it, and he actually doesn't seem that bothered at all by the lack of photography and the redundancy of fast food joints on the lined papers.

So far, so good. The only thing that bothers Adam is that he doesn't seem to be able to make a real decision, because he's been sitting there rubbing his chin for almost five minutes now.

"Well…" The Wolf Man says slowly. "You haven't done that much photography…"

"No," Adam says stupidly.

Jake squeezes his hand under the desk.

"And I guess I don't have to ask why you wanted to quit Burger King," The Wolf Man says.

If anyone else had said it, it could've sounded like a joke, but it doesn't now. Not one bit. The Wolf Man says it in a tone that really points out the ridiculousness in a grown man working at Burger King, a tone that makes Adam feel dirty, wrong in the big office, wrong in front of the expensive desk, wrong on the expensive chair, small and filthy and wrong, wrong, wrong.

"No," Adam says again. "I mean… It wasn't what I wanted to do, you know? Photography… I haven't done much… Professionally and stuff… But… I like it. Really. I love it. And… I'm pretty good. Actually. I think."

God, he's actually stuttering.

And why do you stutter?

Because I'm nervous.

And why are you nervous?

You know damn well why. I've never worked with something I wanted to work with.

And?

And this guy is fucking frightening. Hell, he looks at me like I've just crawled out of a hole in the wall.

Lawrence doesn't have time to respond before The Wolf Man says something.

"But you've done photography?

"Yeah."

"For how long?"

Adam chuckles nervously.

"I got my first camera when I was thirteen, and… Well, since then."

The Wolf Man nods slowly.

"So you have a portfolio?"

Adam tries to keep himself from bowing his head. He had some sort of vein hope that maybe this guy wouldn't ask to see his pictures.

Because this is the part he can't handle.

His photos are the truest part of himself he possesses. Nowhere, not in his soul and not in his body, is there something that shows more of the true Adam Faulkner, a truer image of how he stands there, alone, in his fear and his frustration and his way, way too big sorrow, than on the photos that are safe in a folder in his bag.

Only once has Adam shown that truth with his own actions.

And that was right before Lawrence left him.

"Sure," he still says and takes the folder out of the knapsack that stands next to his chair. "Jake…"

Jake sighs and gets up.

It isn't until now, when his hand gets so awfully much colder, when Adam's suddenly all alone with someone who scares the hell out of him, that he realizes that he's been clutching desperately to Jake ever since they got here.

He hasn't allowed Jake to see any of his photos. Not before they left home, even though he asked to, and every time one of those sons of bitches behind their expensive desks asked to see them, Adam's told Jake to leave.

The thing is that if The Wolf Man looked at the true Adam, scoffed and told him that it sucked, it wouldn't hurt that much. Or, what was left of his soul would get a little blacker, he would get a little more bitter and a little of that damned armor that Jake's actually managed to break down would be built back up again. Sure. But he wouldn't have expected anything else.

If Jake said it…

Adam would never be able to recover.

Jake reminds him way too much of Lawrence. The same blond hair, the same kind eyes, the same stubborn and gentle attempts to force the arms that Adam's put over his head apart to look at his face, and the same unbelievably annoying success when they do that.

And the last thing Adam wants, the last thing he needs if he's ever going to get over Lawrence, is to see the only one who helps him doing it turning into One Of Those People.

One of those people that say he's not good enough.

The door closes behind Jake, and Adam shyly pushes his folder over to The Wolf Man, who opens it and looks at the first photo with a blank face.

Adam stares stubbornly at the desk, god, it looks so fucking expensive that he wants to jam a damn pen in it, and listens to The Wolf Man's silence when he looks through the entire portfolio, looks through Adam, one by one. Reads a chapter of his life over square glasses, and when he finally speaks up again, Adam just wants to put his forehead on the desk he hates so much and cry.

"Well," The Wolf Man says with a chuckle. "This is…"

"Crappy?" Adam says.

He can only pray it doesn't come out as a whimper.

"No," The Wolf Man says. "I mean… You're a… God, you're a hell of a photographer, kid, but…"

Adam's shoulders loosen up a little. It's that 'but' in the end of the sentence that keeps them from falling down all together.

"I need to know that you really want this job," The Wolf Man finishes off. "If you'd been sixty or something, I'd be fully convinced that this was everything you've ever dreamed of, but you have to understand that I've had so many twenty-five year-olds that come here with all the potential in the world, but that takes off after a year."

Adam feels the heart sink in his chest and that absolute, overwhelmingly black hopelessness engulf him. Because he has all the arguments in the world to why he wants this job, he's never wanted anything he can actually have this bad in his entire life, but he's so scared, he's so fucking scared, the tongue turns into a dead snail in his mouth, and everything he wants to say crumbles in his head into a sad pile of broken letters.

And why are you scared, Adam?

I've already told you that.

Yeah. But you don't seem to think about the fact that the reason you're scared can be fixed pretty easily.

I can fix the fact that I've never lifted a finger in my life?

No. But that's not why you're scared, Adam, you know that, too. You're scared because this rich guy with his expensive desk is sitting there and stares at the only thing you've ever done that you've actually gotten pleased with. And you're afraid it's going to turn out as a waste of time.

Shut up.

You know I'm right.

Okay. And what the hell am I expected to do with this information?

Don't even let him say that it's a waste of time! Don't even let him think it! Because you know what would really turn your photos into a waste of time?

Yeah…

If they just lied in that folder until even you forgot them. It's better to burn out than to fade away. And if this guy thinks that you don't want the job… Hell, it's not even true, so prove him wrong! Burn! Burn, and he'll notice you! And if some reviewer bashes you once you've actually gotten published, at least you tried! You were brave, you… Lived!

Yes. Adam is going to live.

Not to live, to be a zombie, was cool. It was kind of nice, before, in that other life that he lived for a while.

But now is a new life. The Afterwards-life. And that only comes down to proving wrong. Proving that fucking psycho wrong.

If he lives The Afterwards-life without living it, he was in that bathroom for no point.

Okay. Now, he's going to do it. He's going to talk.

He's going to talk now. Now.

"I want this job."

The Wolf Man looks at him, almost surprised. Maybe he'd lost hope that he'd say anything at all at this point.

"Yeah, I got that. But why do you want it?"

"Because I want it. I have to have it."

Okay. The ball's started rolling. Now, he might as well go on.

"Believe me," Adam says and leans forward, "no one, no one that you'll meet later today and no one you've met before, no fucking one wants that job more than I do. And no one needs it more than I do, either."

"And why do you need it so badly?"

"I have to afford a suit in a month."

The Wolf Man chuckles.

"You can rent that. It only costs fifty bucks."

"Exactly. I really need this job. I'm going to wear that suit at a funeral, and… I must go to that funeral, you know? I must. I don't want to, but I must. If I don't go there… Fuck, I won't need any job in the world, because then, I'll probably hang myself in your damn fancy coat hanger."

He throws his hand out against a coat hanger next to the desk.

He doesn't get why he's doing this. Maybe he thinks that The Wolf Man's already seen the part of him that's in the folder in front of him, so it doesn't do much damage of he sees the rest. Or maybe he's understood at this point that it's good to bare your soul every now and then. At the time and the place. Even if it is to a total stranger.

"The guy that the funeral is held for would've wanted me to try for this job," Adam continues with only half control of what he's saying. "He's like you, rich and big and all that shit, and he didn't really get that not everyone were that lucky. So it's… Fuck, I'm lying, that's not why I want this job at all, it's… I kind of have to… Do something like this now, you know? Otherwise, I'll become one of those old guys that sits in an apartment with ten cats and stuff and drags little kids in there to grope them or something, because… This is… It's kind of the only thing I can even consider doing. I un-want to work so damn much, it's stupid, but… If I don't even try to do the only thing I actually like doing before I get all old… Well, I like to smoke, too, but the only thing I'll get from that is lung cancer, so I think I prefer this…"

He pauses to catch his breath. His eyes are still on the desk, and The Wolf Man doesn't say a word.

"I love photography," Adam then says, a little calmer now. "Showing it to guys like you is scary as hell, but… I love it. And I'm good at it. I think. I'm not good at this whole critic-thing, so if you tell me I suck, I'd probably believe you, but right now… Right now, I think I'm good, and I don't want to look back at it when I'm sitting there with all my cats and wonder what could've been."

He silences down. The hand on Adam's leg is shaking, it doesn't even feel like it belongs to him, and the only thing he can do is hoping that The Wolf Man won't see it, and that he doesn't laugh at him silently, because he still doesn't dare to look at him, doesn't even dare to listen to the silence, just wants to cover his ears with his hands and squeeze his eyes shut like he did when he was a kid and got afraid of something on the TV, doesn't look until he's home.

"Kid?" The Wolf Man finally says.

Adam can't read anything in his tone.

"Mm?"

The Wolf Man chuckles.

"You can't even look at me?"

"No."

"Oh, come on. If you dare to do that ten minute-speech to someone you don't even know, you sure as hell dare to look at him, too."

Adam swallows a big lump in his throat and slowly lifts his gaze.

It takes time. It's like trying to pick a car up with a jack, his eyes hang onto that desk like it's the only thing keeping them alive, Adam has to work to put them on that serious face.

The Wolf man looks pretty old. The thick eyebrows are deeply furrowed, his heavy elbows rest on the table and the clear, cold blue eyes study Adam, not mockingly but interestedly, and in that very moment, he turns from The Wolf Man into Peter J. Woolman, a rich news paper editor with an expensive desk that stands for everything Adam's hated since he was twenty, but that now can fulfill the dreams that are so big that he hasn't even dared to think about them.

"Your name is Adam, right?" Peter J. Woolman asks.

"Yeah."

Adam's voice cracks in the middle of the word.

"Last name?"

"Faulkner."

"Adam Faulkner," Peter J. Woolman says slowly, "give me your number. I'll call you and tell you what's going to happen. I promise."

Adam nods. Then, he takes an expensive pen from the expensive desk and writes his phone number on an expensive piece of paper that he pushes over to Peter J. Woolman with a silent prayer that he's going to be able to read it, even though his hand was shaking like a leaf when he printed it.

After that, Adam doesn't say anything. He just gets up, takes the folder with his pictures and walks out, on wobbly knees and with shiny eyes, but still a wide, triumphing grin on his lips, the first honest smile he's done in almost six months, because he did it, he tried, and even if he won't succeed, he tried, and no one, no one can say that he didn't.

The same second the door closes behind Adam, his legs fail him, he falters like a baby that's taken its first steps, or like a young man that's taken the first steps towards his dream, and Jake has to jump to his feet and catch him, with the exact same stupid smile on his face as Adam.

No making out… But even my little angst-bitch deserves some happiness from time to time! Anyway, review like crazy!