Chapter Fourteen: What A Beautiful Mess This Is
Tommy's POV

"Sir?"

My eyes snapped back to the man shoving a booklet into my chest with an eyebrow raised. I looked back up at the stage for a moment before looking back at the aging man with glasses that were slipping down his nose. "Huh?" He pursed his lips and glared at me, obviously annoyed, sighing deeply.

"Would you like a pamphlet?" He grumbled. I blinked a few times in the darkness and looked down at the small stack of papers in front of me with a few beautifully painted snowflakes on a dark blue sky on them.

"I, uh... No. No, thanks," I muttered, smiling half-assly before turning away and strolling towards the middle rows of the built in chairs. They were like most auditoriums, with ugly, dark red chairs, the texture of them resembling carpeting. But, at least, they weren't stained and looked as if they were actually cleaned once in a while. I slumped down into the last chair at the row, sighing and clearing my throat just out of habit. There was still a little bit of bruising around my nose and eye from the events of last week, but they weren't that noticeable anymore, and even the pain in my ribs was going away. Pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, I stared back up at the stage.

There were murals all around the back of the stage, the same snowflakes that were on the pamphlet on them except ten times larger and ten times the detail and beauty. Different blues swirled around each other behind them, with hints of light and dark grays. A black silhouette of a girl with hair down to her shoulders and, what seemed to be, a Santa hat on her head was painted near one of the bigger snowflakes.

My expression was the same as when the man was trying to get my attention; dropped jaw and utter awe. I couldn't rip my eyes away from it. It was naturally beautiful, and I didn't even want to look away. That is, until a different silhouette crept up behind me. I turned around and smiled softly at the tiny-framed boy looming over me. His eyes were transfixed on the stage, as well, with his lips pursed into a tight line and his arms crossed over his chest.

"See that tiny snowflake in the corner over there?" A soft voice muddled. I peered to my right again to see the curly-haired boy pointed to the stage. His curls were a perfect shade of russet brown, his beryl eyes piercing with slightly dark edges to them. His curls were calmed some with gel that slicked back and around his head. An orange and gray plaid shirt clung to his minuscule frame, extenuating his forearm muscles. Burnt orange skinnys seemed to be glued to his legs, his phone bulging from the pocket. I had to blink a few times to understand if he was real. I mean... He was gorgeous. Ridiculously so...

My eyes followed his finger to the stage, looking at the top right corner he was pointing to, but there was no snowflake there. Not that I could see, anyway. I squinted and leaned forward in my chair, hoping it would help with whatever I was attempting to see. Still nothing. "Uh... I'm sorry, I don't see-" Before I could finish speaking, the curtain shifted for half a second, and I caught a glimpse of a tiny, elegant snowflake beneath it. "Oh. Yeah, it's right there, behind the curtain," I mumbled.

He nodded, and I watched as he shifted from one foot to the other, crossing his hand back over his chest and with the other. "That was a bitch to paint, and nobody's even gonna see it." He blew raspberries with his lips, his mouth turning downwards ever so slightly after. My eyes widened at his words.

"You... You painted that? All of it?" I questioned, trying to restrict my voice from reaching higher octaves. He gave me a double take, and when his eyes landed on my face, I thought I would melt right where I was. The dark edges of his eyes weren't there anymore, but instead replaced by soft, big, baby blue eyes.

He smiled warmly and chuckled a little bit, a blush fanning over his tanned cheeks. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. Took a month, counting the need for supplies plus lack of time I was allowed to work on it." He smiled again, one side of his mouth turning a little higher than the other. But it was... Cute, I guess.

He unfolded his hands from each other again and put one out in front if him, waiting. "Drake," he informed. I grinned and grasped his hand in mine, feeling the pads of his fingers hard against my palm. Now I could tell he was an artist...

I gave him one, good, hard shake before saying, "Tommy," and pulling my hand free from his. He opened his mouth to say something, but someone from the stage called his name, motioning with their curling finger for him to come over. He smiled apologetically in my direction and pattered away towards the person. I watched as he scampered away, his hair bouncing out of the gel's hold. I chuckled to myself and placed my head in my hand, leaning against the arm rest.

As soon as I saw him scamper away the way he did, only one question lingered on my mind: is he gay? It was probably bad that that was the first and only thing that popped into my head, but I couldn't help it. He radiated 'gay'. It flew off of him in strands of rainbow ribbons. I wasn't sure, but I still had to ponder it. Is that how everyone viewed Adam...?

I really felt bad for him. People gave him disgusting looks and snarled at him just because he looked gay. Is that how society works? You get pushed out of the human civilization if you're gay? What made it even more upsetting is that he thought of it that way, too. The way he snarled those hate-filled words when I asked him... A fag? A cocksucker? An assfucker, Tommy? It sent chills down my spine then, and even now, thinking about it. It wasn't my fault I didn't know how to spit the simple words "Are you gay?" out! I'd been trying so hard, and my efforts fell flat when I needed them.

I felt like a horrible person for it. It wasn't a big deal, so he's gay, whoopee. But, for reasons I'll never understand, my tongue wouldn't form around the words. And then that bullshit about how people should respect him for who he is...

Who am I, Oprah?

'Is that what you wanted to ask me? If I'm queer?'

I shuddered a little at the words that kept replaying in my head. They were just... So cold. I'd never heard his tone like that before...

I was pulled out of my thoughts as the lights above the stage were cast upon the stands on the stage. They were all dressed in neat clothing, boys in button up shirts with ties and slacks and girls in delicate dresses that flowed down to their knees. There were about thirty of them all together, I guessed, just seniors. I smiled to myself as my eyes landed on Adam at the very top right, his head close to the snowflake that was behind the curtain.

He was wearing a navy blue button up shirt, with a pearly white tie. His hair was slicked back a little, and his eyes were delicately lined with charcoal eye liner. It wasn't that noticeable, but yet it was, even way back where I was sitting. I could see his eyes darting back and forth behind his glasses, searching the crowd.

His eyes finally stopped in the area of my rows, and he smiled softly. It was only then did I realize he was looking at me. I blinked a few times and raised my hand in acknowledgment that I saw him. He nodded lightly, looking back straight ahead and standing up taller, broadening his shoulders back. I chuckled quietly to myself, and the woman next to me looked over at me with wide eyes, as if saying "shut up, or I'll make you shut up." Kinda scared me...

Their opening song began as soon as the audience got completely quiet, and, although I didn't know it or distinguish Adam's voice from anyone else's, they were extremely good. At one point, I literally forgot to breathe for about five seconds.

About five songs went by, all amazing, all getting hundreds of claps, and then the music teacher announced that they would be singing their last song. Adam seemed to tense in his spot, rolling his shoulders back and breathing out deeply. What was so important about that last song? I instantly understood, though, what was so important about that song when the rest of the chorus was shadowed with dark light and only Adam was left in the spotlight. My jaw dropped open and I had to blink a few times. Go, Adam...

There were no opening chords for him, no cue, no nothing. He just started on his own. "Silent night... Holy night..." He sang slowly and softly, although he was still loud enough for everyone to hear, who had all gone completely quiet to listen to him. I was sure my air was caught in my throat way longer than five seconds this time...

"All is calm, all is bright..." I bit my bottom lip and stared intently at him. His voice was beautiful and enchanting and so... captivating. I tucked my legs underneath me so my knees were pressed to my chest, wrapping my arms around the bottom of my legs, leaning forward a little bit.

As Adam continued, I couldn't help but voice my thoughts out loud. "Holy shit... This guy's amazing..." I muttered, a little too loudly. The lady next to me shot me a nasty look, and put a finger to her lips, shushing me. I rolled my eyes at her and turned my attention back to the stage. I couldn't place my finger on it, but... The voice sounded oddly familiar... But he'd never sung to me, how could it be familiar to me in any way? Unless... He had...

A spark went off in my head and my eyes widened as he continued to sing his solo. I gasped, and smiled just a little bit to myself, staring at him. As his solo slowly faded out and the spotlight shined on all of the chorus, his eyes caught mine for just a second, and he smiled sheepishly, knowing I knew and understood. Slowly, he tore his gaze away from me, continuing to sing with the chorus. I shook my head and smirked, placing my head in my chin again. You, sir, Mr. Adam Lambert, are one sneaky, conniving, bitch... And I love that about you...