Chapter Five: You never knew me at all, but I see you

Adam's POV

I shuffled towards my next class of the day, History. My music was probably a little too loud for my ears, but I didn't care. The only thing— well, person, actually— on my mind was Tommy. I couldn't get… I couldn't let myself get attached to him because I knew the way the world worked. Something would come up. He'd turn out to be straight. He'd have a girlfriend. He'd be Christian and totally against that (though I really doubted that, actually, just by the way he dressed and looked. But, unfortunately, I've been wrong before). But maybe there was hope…

Don't think about it, Adam. Just don't.

I sighed, quite miserably. I mean, I was upset because I was depressing myself, but I was happy. I was happy because he actually came up to me and sat with me. He talked to me. He was a hot shot from Chicago (I could only assume since everyone swarmed him at any chance they could manage). And I was just… me. A theatre kid with glances and braces who lived in Los Angeles with his parents and younger brother. And yeah, I'm gay. But no one knows that. For many good reasons.

I'd stalked into the classroom, hoping not to be noticed before I realized I was the first to arrive. Cool. I shuffled over towards a desk off to the side of the room (the teacher didn't care where we sat, really). I dropped my stuff and slipped into the seat, sighing softly and changing the song on my iPod. Mika; Grace Kelly. Oooh, yes. I loved Mika. He's amazing. Seriously, look him up sometime. His songs are beautifully catchy and they sound so damned happy.

I nodded my head to the beat, mouthing the words as I pulled out my journal and a pen again. Making doodles and writing down words here and there when I felt the urge. I didn't really pay any attention to them, though. Lyrics like why don't you like me? Why don't you like me without making me try? were filling my head and I was still thinking about Tommy. I couldn't help it. I couldn't get over the fact that he talked to me. He with dirty blond hair brushed over to one side and gorgeous brown eyes. I sighed softly, dipping my head over my journal and letting my hair curtain half of my face.

I had my headphones in, sure, but I'd turned them down before entering the classroom, so I heard his footsteps. I glanced up from my journal, seeing Tommy again. How many classes did we have together? I blinked, seeing the tug of a smile at his lips as he seemed to start walking towards me. But then I heard the patter of many other students, and I looked away again as a crowd came in after him and swarmed. It was as if they were a crowd of moths and he was the glaring light. I couldn't help the frown. I could never get into a crowd like them. I was a nobody, remember?

I bit down on my bottom lip as all the girls touched him. The heat of jealousy washed over my face and I turned away a little, relaxing more in my chair and scribbling random words and doodles. I wasn't paying any attention to it. But I glanced at the page and tore it out of my journal, crumpling it in a ball. I bent down and shoved the ball into my bag before sitting up again and going back to my journal. I took a quick peak back at Tommy, seeing that he was still answering questions and informing people of where he was from. He seemed much more animated in his speech, but he looked uncomfortable again. He kept eyeing the girls who were touching him. He seemed annoyed.

Maybe that was my wishful thinking speaking again. Ugh.

The song changed to one of my personal favorites by Darren Hayes. Soft, smooth intro and beautiful beats. I tapped my fingers at first before deciding to write down the lyrics. That's what I did, when I couldn't think of anything of my own. I rewrote song lyrics because the process cleared my head. My pen moved in swirls, I was already behind with the song, but I didn't mind it. But it didn't help my thoughts. We practice love between these sheets. The candy sweetness scent of you, it bathes my skin, I'm stained in you. And all I have to do is hold you, there's a racing within my heart, and I am barely touching you…

Of course I was thinking about Tommy. I stole another glance in his direction, though it would have seemed like I was looking at the entire group. I looked away again, sighing and continuing to write the words down on the otherwise blank page. The moonlight plays upon your skin, a kiss that lingers takes me in. I fall asleep inside of you, there are no words, there's only truth. Breathe in, breathe out, there is no sound, we move together up and down— but that was all I managed. I didn't see the shadows looming over me and I didn't hear the snickers and whispers because my thoughts were gone. I was thinking about running my fingers over that porcelain skin through the fishnet and wondering wildly what he tasted like when the paper was ripped away from my grasp. My eyes widened and my head shot up, and I stared up at two football players that, unfortunately, happened to be in this class.

"What have we got here, Theatre Dweeb?" They called me a variety of things, "Theatre Dweeb" perhaps being the least insulting. I knew I was a Theatre dweeb. I was damn proud of that fact.

"Give that back!" I said, pulling myself from my desk and reaching for it. But the player holding the paper lunged away and the other stood in my way. I groaned, side-stepping him quickly and rushing to the other. True, it was not my own work, but I doubted they knew that. I really, really doubted it.

"Oho, fag writes poetry!" He shouted, grinning. I never mentioned my sexuality, but they assumed anyway. I didn't deny it heavily, and I often would play it off. But inside, every time, it cut deep. I know it's just words, but it still hurts, you know? I glanced over at the swarm, seeing people laughing. Except Tommy. He just stood there, glaring at the players.

"Give that back!" I shouted again, reaching for it. But the guy had to be at least another head taller than me. I was around six feet tall, but even I couldn't reach it when he held the paper over his head. The second guy grabbed me and pulled me away, allowing the first to bring the paper back down and read it aloud, too fast and too jokingly.

"When moonlight crawls along the street, chasing away the summer heat, footsteps outside somewhere below, the world revolves. I've let it go. We built our church above the street…" He snorted, looking at me, "we practice love between these sheets." My face flushed and I looked away, clenching my jaw and biting hard on my bottom lip. I could not believe this was happening. Where the fuck was the history teacher?

"The candy sweetness scent of you, it bathes my skin, I'm stained in you. And all I have to do is hold you, there's a racing within my heart and I'm barely touching you." There were more snorts and laughter, and I struggled against the second guy, trying to pull out of his grip. But if anything, it tightened around my wrists and I cringed.

"Stop it, you guys!" Tommy said, his voice harsh and cold. They looked at him as he just stared at me. "You're hurting him." My heart was racing in my throat and for a moment I forgot to breathe.

"Whatever—" the first guy muttered, before continuing. "Turn the lights down low, take it off, let me show you, my love for you, insatiable. Turn me on, never stop, wanna taste every drop, my love for you, insatiable," ooh's and ah's and I could feel the sting of tears welling in my eyes. God fucking damnit. This was exactly why I rarely wrote down things around other people. Because they got nosy and they had no respect for anyone or anything other than themselves…

"I said stop it!" Tommy shouted again, and I looked up to see his fist slamming into the football player's gut. He keeled and Tommy punched him in the face, sending him to the floor. The second guy shoved me aside and I crashed into a desk. But that didn't bother me. I looked over at Tommy, watching fearfully. He was going to get himself ki— wait, I lied. In the time that I readjusted and looked after hitting the desk, he'd managed to get the second player into a headlock.

And then, of course, the teacher came in.

"Mr. Ratliff, I see you're making nice with the new classmates." He said, pushing his glasses farther up his nose before setting his things down at his desk. Tommy let go of the player immediately, flushing red. People were staring with wide eyes and opened mouths. My paper was left, abandoned on the floor. My bottom lip was abused from my constant gnawing on it, and I sighed heavily. Tommy rubbed the back of his neck before bending down and grabbing my paper, walking over to me and handing it back. I took it, not looking at him. I couldn't believe it was read aloud. Again, it wasn't mine. But I was thinking about him while re-writing beautiful lyrics… Wasn't that bad enough?

"Alright class, as soon as these two get back to their seats, we'll begin today's lesson." The players were still struggling to get up. They were probably in just as much shock as everyone else that someone, quite literally, half their size just kicked their ass. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Tommy grabbed his stuff and sat in a seat across from mine. The crowd kind of followed, but they weren't packed around him, and they didn't sit in my row. A sigh of relief can be entered here, yes. I'm not much for crowds.

I tried to ignore the few moments of embarrassment that I suffered. I tried to ignore the glances that Tommy was sending at me, and I tried to keep my own stolen peaks to a minimum, but I just couldn't do it. Only once, though, did we look at the same time. My face heated and I looked away, swallowing the lump in my throat again. My hands were trembling, and I had to fiddle with my pen a lot, twirling it around my fingers or doodling to keep myself from just losing it.

It was as if Tommy's entrance to my life had made everything topsy-turvy. True, it was just today, and things had otherwise been relatively the same. But… I didn't know. I never really thought about anyone. Never had an interest in anyone. But… Now Tommy comes along and all of a sudden I'm tripping. I shook my head a little, running my fingers through my hair. I could feel his eyes on me but I didn't look this time. No. I just needed to stop thinking.

And class couldn't finish soon enough. I packed my things and grabbed whatever was left, before standing and throwing the strap over my shoulder and rushing around down the row and towards the door. I heard people talking, probably trying to get Tommy's attention, before they were asking where he was going. I held my binder and copy of Wicked close to my chest as I walked down the hallway. I could hear shoes slapping the ground behind me.

"Adam, wait!" I exhaled, pausing briefly as he came up beside me. He was just a few inches shorter than I was, I noticed.

"What?" I asked, sounding harsher than I meant. He frowned a little, looking away and tucking his bangs behind his ear. I licked my lips, waiting for him to explain.

"Look, I— I'm sorry about what happened, in there." He said, his voice soft again. It was like he was a different person around me. I'd seen him talking so enthusiastically and everything, and with me he was quiet and reserved. Shy, almost. It was cute… Stop it, Lambert.

"It wasn't your fault." I told him, before walking again. I couldn't explain why I was acting so coldly; partly because I didn't want him to ask about the lyrics, I guess. But I had a nagging feeling in my stomach that he was going to at some point anyway. And I didn't want to keep walking away. I wanted to pin him against a locker and—

"I know that, but… still… It was wrong of them to invade on your stuff like that." He commented. I bit down on my bottom lip. Why was he concerned with someone like me when he was so fucking popular?

"It wasn't even mine. I was just re-writing someone else's lyrics cause I was bored." I told him in a huff as we walked out to the courtyard, towards the front of the school. People bustled around us, and for once no one bothered to stop Tommy to try and talk to him. Either everyone already had or they didn't notice. Either were possible and both were probably true, too. But I didn't really know or care.

"I know," he said as he followed me to the front of the school. I stopped, turning towards him with confusion on my face like I was a fucking Etch-A-Sketch. "I… I listen to Darren Hayes too… on occasion." He said, smiling slightly.

God, that smile. I couldn't help it, I smiled back (but I kept my mouth closed. I was very conscious of my teeth and damned braces), before shifting my bag a little higher on my shoulder. The sunlight was catching the color of his eyes, turning them from a dark brown to a golden and hazel sort of color. Like burnt honey. I could have stared all day at his eyes, and I probably would have if I hadn't heard a car honk. I blinked, turning my head and seeing my dad. I sighed.

"I gotta go." I told him. He nodded, seeming sad.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked after a brief moment. I gave him a half smile.

"Sure." I said, waving goodbye and turning away, rushing to the car. I opened the door and piled my stuff inside before shutting the door and sighing, buckling myself in.

"Who's your friend?" My dad asked. I laughed, looking at Tommy through the window. He was watching me leave with a smile on his face.

"New kid. Tommy."