Thursday, November 28th, 5:33 p.m.
Don't bother coming over.
Adam stared at the words for a few hours, the cursor in the response field blinking at him, judging him on the words that he would dare enter in that swam in his head. He carefully and slowly entered in the two letters and three symbols he could think of:
OK...
Wednesday, November 27th, 3:18 p.m.
The screen on Adam's phone lit up again for the 5th time that day, displaying all the recent messages that he had received:
Why won't you answer me!?
Did I do something wrong?
What's wrong, sugar tits? Something bad happen?
Hey, how come you haven't answered me?
I was thinking we could just order in some Chinese food instead of meatloaf, and maybe snuggle watchin' a RomCom? XoxO
Tuesday, November 26th, 1:25 p.m.
I was thinking of just making meatloaf for Thanksgiving, since it'll probably be the two of us. Let me know what ya think! XOXO
The screen awoke, shining a light and brightening up a corner of the dimness that had swallowed Adam's room. Down the hall, the sound of water hitting flesh and tile filled the bathroom.
Monday, November 25th, 12:12 p.m.
Hey. What are your Thanksgiving Plans? I missed you this weekend! XOXO
The words displayed on the idled screen of Adam's phone. His thumb swiped across the screen before bumping in the numbers of his passcode. He stared at the message for a few minutes before his fingers began to dance across the thin film of glass:
I did something terrible…
He deleted the message, fingers flying again as he typed out:
I fucked up. I'm sorry.
He stared at the words for a moment as the cursor blinked at him, seeming to mock his indecision before he deleted the message, tossing the phone to the edge of the bed before it fell like one of those old timey barrel rides going over Niagra Falls.
Adam folded his arms over his knees, resting his forehead on his forearms. He let out a frustrated grkoan before tipping himself over to lay down, burying his face into his pillow.
Saturday, November 23rd, 3:45 a.m.
"No… No, you're right. You've fucked up," Jericho said, his finger gliding around the lip of the brown and black speckled stoneware coffee mug, "You've fucked up real back." His fingers wrapped around the handle, lifting it up as he took a loud sip of the coffee.
Adam let out a frustrated sigh, hand running through his hair for the twentieth time in the last fifteen minutes. "I know I did. I know. I just don't know where to start on fixing it.
Chris stood up, his fuzzy collared and dark blue robe swaying as he took the coffee cups (Adam's having been untouched the entire time), to the sink, setting them in with a metallic thunk.
"Well…" he started, turning to lean against the edge of the counter.
Adam raised his head, eyebrows perking a little in interest.
"You can start by getting the fuck out of my house. Maybe the cold air'll get you thinking a bit," Jericho said, screwing his face up a little in thought, "'Cause I can tell you one thing, you're not gonna figure it out in here."
He sidled over to Adam, sitting down on the edge of the seat next to him. "You're a sweet guy. I'm sure Christopher —"
"Christian..."
"— Christian'll forgive you," Jericho said with a bit of a grin, reaching out to catch Adam's chiseled chin between this thumb and forefinger, "And if he doesn't… Come back and see me. I've grown sweet on you."
Adam stared at Jericho for a few moments before he nodded, hands pressing against the oak table as he stood up.
"Yeah… You're right."
Chris grinned as he looked up at Adam. "Always am."
Saturday, November 23rd, 2:56 a.m.
"'N here I thought you'd at least stick around for breakfast," Chris Jericho said, bored disappointment ringing through his voice, "'Cause you certainly scrambled my eggs." He let out a snicker of mild amusement as he traced circles onto the silk sheets of his bed.
Adam let out a bit of a grunt as he pulled his shirt over his head, hand running through his hair as he stared at the dimly lit lamp opposite him. His hands slipped in and out of the waist of his pants, tucking in the tight tee shirt before buttoning up his pants. He bent over, digging through the smile pile of clothes before he picked up the black button up shirt he had been wearing before this fiasco. Chris let out a wolf whistle as he at up, the sheets slipping down his side like a river of silk receding from his side.
"Ya know… It's still pretty early, and I certainly like to snuggle," Jericho purred, leaning forward to press his fingers into the bed, hips raising from the sheets as he moved forward on his prowl to the edge of the bed, "And I get everything that I like… As you've figured out by now."
Jericho reached out and grabbed the back of Adam's shirt, tugging roughly. Adam stumbled back a bit, letting out a growl as he readjusted the shirt on his shoulders, "Stop it. I have to leave… I've… I've got shit to do."
Chris sat back, a playful pout across his lips as he spoke, "Oh, and why is it now suddenly important?"
"It just fucking is, DAMMIT," Adam roared, turning around as he glared down at the other man.
Falling back, a look crossed Jericho's face as if he had been a puppy that had just been caught shitting on a rug. Adam sighed, turning on his heels as he fell back on the corner of the bed with a bit of a bounce. "I'm… I'm sorry. Tonight was a mistake… I fucked up…" He said quietly, leaning forward to cup his face in his hands.
Jericho draped himself against Adam's back, wrapping his arms around his middle. "Tell me about it, stud…" he purred, nuzzling into the crook of the other man's shoulder, "Over a cup of coffee."
