Chapter Sixteen: Help Me Make Sense of What I Don't Understand
Tommy's POV
His legs were on either side of me, straddling my hips as he fell even more forward than he already had, his palms laying flat against mine, landing near my head that was close to hanging off the side of the bed as we both continued to giggle like buffoons. Adam's mouth was wide open as he laughed, the metal from his braces shining from the overhead light, his cerulean blue eyes slightly squinted and the frame of his glasses casting a shadow on his skin.
As he leaned even more forward, I realized that our noses were inches from brushing each others, and he realized it, too, for he suddenly seized chuckling to stare down into my eyes and then at our hands.
I could feel his breath gliding over my face and into my mouth, tasting of mint. My heart was thrashing in my chest and all I could think about was how beautiful he looked when he was so bashful. It was as if he'd never been this close to another man's face before. Maybe he hadn't... I blinked a few times, my lips slightly parted in mid breath. I could hear his breath shaking softly inside his own gaping mouth, which was pulled downwards into a frown.
His eyebrows were pulled together above his eyes, looking as if he was studying me or reminiscing. For a moment, his blue orbs clouded over with lust before turning into embarrassment, and he pushed himself off of me, climbing off of my legs and sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs crossed together, Indian style. "Sorry," he muttered softly, looking away from me as I sat up. I shook my head and looked down at my lap.
"N-no, it was my bad…" I said, trailing off a bit, rubbing the back of my neck with my hand. The rest of our conversation after that was filled with complete awkwardness, and I didn't even think twice about what I was saying before it spewed out of my mouth. I'd, somehow, even managed to slip that I knew that he was the one singing to me when I came to school hungover, back in December.
December... That was so long ago, but it really wasn't. It was only a month ago, but it felt like an eternity since Adam sang to me in that room. I'd known him since mid-November, and, if you asked me back then how I felt about moving, I would've told you it was the worst thing that could've happened in my life. Now? Now, I wouldn't go back to Chicago for the world.
Eventually, our awkward conversation turned back into a normal one, and I'd taken out my guitar to show off a bit. It was, possibly, the only thing I could do right, why not flaunt it? Adam's mouth turned upwards in amusement as I plucked the strings to make sure they were still in tune, which they were. I looked up at him, pluck in fingers, my eyebrows pulled together.
"What the hell should I play?" I muttered, pouting a little at him. He chuckled nervously and ran a hand through his inky locks, licking at his lips. Poor thing. He was probably still flustered about being on top of me... Ha, that sounded more sexual than I intended. Whoops.
He sighed, slumping his shoulders some before looking up at me, an evil smirk playing on his lips. "How about 'Whole Lotta Love'?" He said in a husky voice, his smirk deepening and all signs of embarrassment suddenly vanishing and some sort of deviant Adam taking hold of the wheel. I chuckled and nodded, licking my lips a little as I tried to remember the chords for it.
As my fingers began strumming, I became completely lost in my music. It would be unusual if that didn't happen. I could feel Adam's eyes on my fingers, and I could hear him beginning to hum. When it actually came time for lyrics, I looked up at Adam, nodding to him. At first, he seemed reluctant to sing, mumbling small parts of the song when I could, clearly, tell that he knew every single word to the song. So what do I do to give him encouragement?
"You been learnin', baby, I been learnin'," I was sure I was singing out of key, cause I couldn't sing even if a gun was pointed to my head, but I didn't care. I was having fun. Adam stared, wide eyed, at me for a moment before chuckling. I smirked as I continued to play, "What? Think you can do better? Come on, tough guy," I growled at him, playing a little bit louder than before. "All them good times, baby, baby, I been yearnin'." I must have been ruining the song, because Adam shook his head and scrunched his whole face up, chuckling. And then, finally, he opened his mouth.
"Way, way down inside," as soon as he began to sing, I felt a slight pressure in my jeans and I mentally kicked myself. What the fuck... I shouldn't be getting hard simply because of his edgy voice... Not even the original Zeppelin song did that to me, and that was some pretty intense stuff, sure to get any woman hard (given they didn't even have cocks).
"Honey, you need it," he practically growled, and I felt a small twitch under my zipper. Okay, really, now? Was that necessary? I'm sure my face looked like I'd just eaten a sour apple, with pursed lips and eyebrows scrunched together. Thank God Adam was focused on my guitar playing rather than my face; he probably would have thought I was scrunching up because I didn't like his voice. Well, apparently, my dick likes his voice even more than I do.
"I'm gonna give you my love... I'm gonna give you my love!" At those words, my fingers automatically stopped in their place and I had to close my eyes, breathing in deeply through my nose to calm down the woody that I was desperately trying to hide with my guitar. He only sang three lines and I felt like I was about to explode... When I opened my eyes, Adam was staring at me with a concerned yet amused look on his face, a small smile playing at his freckly lips.
"Dude... That was fucking amazing." I finally commented, breathless. Adam flushed to the color of a raspberry and looked away from me, avoiding my gaze. Thank fuck he stopped singing. Thank fuck that I stopped playing. Thank fuck my hard on was calming some, even if slightly, on its own...
"How bout you, with your playing? That was insane." I felt heat spread to my own cheeks a little bit and I lowered my head, looking down at my precious guitar. If there was one thing in this world that I treasured more than anything else, it was my guitar and my ability to play it. I don't know what my life would have been like without the six-stringed beauty... Shut the fuck up, playing guitar is an art.
My shoulders slumped some, and I quirked a smile. "It's really not that hard," I said, subconsciously plucking at the strings. Speaking of hard... I really hoped that Adam was staring at my fingers and not at the pulsing heat underneath my jeans... That'd seriously be one hell of an awkward situation. I cleared my throat and looked back up at him, "Have you ever tried playing?" I asked, attempting to distract myself.
He shook his head, laughing, as if even the idea was completely idiotic and unheard of. I smirked and extended my arms towards him, making sure his eyes were on the guitar and not elsewhere. He blinked a few times and tilted his head to the side a little, looking like a very confused, lost puppy. And it looked adorable...
I had yet to decide how I felt about him. I knew that he was the greatest friend I'd ever had, that was for sure. I never had any true friends in Chicago. Everybody was either pissed off at me for having sex with their girlfriends, pissed off at me cause I was a cocky prick, or they were jealous because every girl wanted me. Yeah, I'm definitely not vane, but it was true; some even admitted it straight to my face with stuttering words and half unbuttoned shirts that made their boobs hang out all over the place. I could never understand girls.
He licked at his lips and cautiously took the guitar, like he was scared that it would shatter into millions of tiny shards of wood once he touched it. I laughed and pushed it closer to him still until his hands completely wrapped around the neck and base of the guitar. He gasped softly at the change of weight in his hands, I guessed. It was the same thing I did when my uncle shoved it into my hands. I felt like I was on top of the world, with such a powerful and soulful instrument in my hands for the first time.
I smiled at him, "Play a G." I watched as his face went from minor confusion to almost ghost white. He looked ashamed and like he didn't want to disappoint me or make a fool of himself.
"Tommy, I-I've never picked a guitar up in my life-" he began with a quivering voice, but I cut him off with a deep, throaty chuckle.
"Just go with your gut feeling," I told him. It was the first thing Uncle Joe told me to do, and I nearly tore my hair out trying to figure it out for half an hour, because Joe was the type of guy that always played tricks with people's minds, so, knowing this, I naturally went for the harder notes, closer to the bottom of the neck and the last strings. Finally, when I gave up on the hard notes and played a simple G, he patted me on the shoulder and said 'You got it, Tommy Joe.' I wanted to kill him for doing that to me, but it seemed to pay off in the end.
He bit his lip and staring hard at the strings. I didn't have the heart to tell him he was holding the guitar the wrong way. His fingers swept over the strings, making small whispers of noises, before he plucked the third string from the top. Well, it should have been the fourth, but, coincidentally, he played the right string. He looked back at me with pursed lips and worry set deep into his forehead before I burst out into giggles.
He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them, "I told you, I can't play the guitar!" He exclaimed, straightening out of his bent position over the guitar. I shook my head and laughed again before clearing my throat, calming myself.
"Obviously not. You played the right string, though, which is an amazing feat in and of itself." All signs of anxiety depicted from his face, and he now looked more shocked than anything. "Are you a righty or lefty?" I continued, trying not to laugh again.
"Uh, righty-" he was going to continue, but I took the guitar from his hands before he could and turned it the other way, so the headstock was to the left of him. I took his left hand and placed it on the guitar, curling his index finger on the third fret of the e string, his middle finger on the first fret of the A string, and his ring finger on the second fret of the E string. "Make believe you're holding something round. Fingers always have to be round." I explained, taking his other hand and placing it at the e string, stroking his fingertips over all of the strings and making a beautiful sound.
I smiled down at out hands, "G chord," I whispered, biting on my lower lip. I couldn't help the tingles that ran through my fingers at the small skin contact. I looked up at his face to see that he was staring at our hands, too, his face brighter than any cherry I'd ever seen. He cleared his throat and pulled his hands free of mine, rubbing the back of his neck while holding the guitar with his other. I blinked a few times, staring at him before I understood.
I let out a throaty laugh and took his hand in mine, despite his efforts to pull away from me. "Adam, just because you're gay doesn't mean that there's zero percent touching. It's like you're afraid a teacher from third grade will come in and yell 'Keep your hands to yourself!'" I mimicked my own third grade teacher with the deep voice that sometimes haunted me to this day; he was, possibly, the biggest prude in the world. Even the other teachers would tell him to calm his balls. Well... Not in those words, but you get the gist. "Chill, man. It's not a problem." I shrugged and smiled at him. In fact, it was quite the opposite... He chuckled and shook his head, licking his lips before speaking.
"So, what? Are you my fag stag?" He asked, grinning at me. I chuckled and shrugged again.
"I guess I am." I answered with a smile. His face dropped a little bit and he licked his lips, looking away from me and pulling his hands free again. My entire face seemed to scrunch up in response. Had I said something that was wrong? It was almost as if he was expecting to deny it, like I wasn't a fag stag, but a-
My thoughts were cut short when my phone began buzzing in my pocket. I flinched a little bit at the snap-back to reality and reached into my pocket, fishing out my phone to see Mia's name in big, black letters. I flashed Adam an apologetic look and stood from the bed, facing the wall and flipping my phone open. I sighed and ran a hand through my bangs before saying anything, "Hey, babe."
"Well, hello there," she replied in quite a girly voice. I chuckled lightly and wrapped my free arm around my torso, tucking it neatly under my bending arm. "What have you been up to? You haven't called in a while." I dug at my nail polish and bit on my bottom lip.
"Been kinda busy... Y'know, hanging out with friends and playing and stuff..." I mumbled, looking over my shoulder at Adam. He was staring down at his hands in his lap, gnawing on his lip. Fuck, that's adorable...
"Oh? And have we made any new friends, Mr. Ratliff?" She giggled and I faked a small laugh before blushing.
"No... Just with Adam a lot," I half whispered into the receiver. A sigh and the blowing of raspberries filled my ear.
"Again?" She muttered, a pang of anger lacing her tone. A frown pulled at the edges of my mouth. What kind of attitude was that? Was she... Jealous?
"Yes, again." I couldn't control the hiss underlying my own tone. "I gotta go, I'll call you soon," I continued before harshly snapping the phone shut and shoving it back into my jeans. I turned back towards Adam to see him staring at me with wide eyes and a slightly dropped jaw. "What?" I asked, sitting back down on the bed.
He blinked a few times and snapped his mouth closed before opening it again, "You have a girlfriend?" His eyes squinted up a little bit, and the side of his mouth wrinkled. Heat rushed across my face.
"Yeah. Back in Chicago. Her name's Mia and... She's pretty amazing," the way I said the last part made it sound genuine, like I truly meant it, but my intentions were more like 'And she's a complete bitch that doesn't like you.' Guess I didn't reach that aim. He nodded and laced his fingers together in front of him, chipping his nail polish off.
It was silent for a long time after that. He was in his own world, I was in my own world, and nothing around us mattered. We were in each other presence; that's all that mattered. While I didn't know what was lingering in his head, I knew what was in mine. I wanted to unlace his fingers from each other and take his hand in mine again. I wanted to lean over and press myself against him and never let go. I wanted to make him mine...
Okay, so I guess it's pretty clear how I feel about him now.
I wanted to do all these things, I really did. But at the same time, my in the back of my mind, my conscience was yelling at me, telling me that I shouldn't want this. That he was just a friend and nothing more, and shouldn't be anything more. But... Why? Why shouldn't I want these things? Just because he's a guy and I'm a guy? My conscience is quite stupid.
"It's four in the morning..." he finally whispered. I flinched a little and stared at the clock on his nightstand. Fuck... Not even I go that late. I usually crash around one, too tired to keep my head up. My eyes suddenly felt very droopy and my mouth dropped open in a yawn. I heard Adam's laughter as my long yawn ended, and I looked up at him, half dazed. Without knowing what we were laughing about, I began giggling with him.
"What? Am I ugly when I yawn?" I asked, my voice raspy. I didn't realize how tired I was until he pointed out what time it was. He smiled and shook his head.
"Just the opposite. Your tongue practically falls out of your mouth and you look like a little kitten," he explained. A pout formed on my lips and I made my eyes wider.
"That's not vewy nice." I brought my hand up and pawed at the air, making small meowing noises. He grinned and pawed back at me. Oh, what children, we are. I got off the bed again and stretched, feeling pops in my back before bending down and grabbing my flannel pants and an old Korn shirt from my bag. Without saying a word to him, I walked into the bathroom and changed, coming out a few minutes later and collapsing on the bed next to him, resting my head in his lap, closing my eyes and letting a sigh pass my lips.
When I opened my eyes, his beautiful face came into view and I smiled softly. "Hi," I muttered. He blushed and looked away from me, but I continued looking at his eyes. Those eyes... They could kill someone. Icy blue in the center, brimmed with a darker blue on the edges, not to mention how well his eyeliner complimented him.
I was going to say something to him. I didn't know what, though. Something along the lines of 'Oh, yeah, I have a girlfriend, but she doesn't mean anything to me because I'm irresistibly in love with you,' but when I opened my mouth to speak, all that came out was:
"Sing me a song."
... Way to go, Tommy.
He beamed at me, going into deep thought for a second and then letting out beautiful sounds, "There's a calm surrender to the rush of day, when the heat of the rolling world can be turned away." Had Adam not started to sing this song, I would have completely forgotten that Elton ever existed, and that would have been embarrassing. But just the way he treated the words with such kindness made my heart ooze, and my eyes began closing again.
When I was a kid, I would always have a hard time falling asleep. My mother would come into my room, sing me lullabies for five minutes, and I'd be out faster than a light bug can spark it's lighting. It was my weakness; I was a sucker for good songs and a great talent.
"An enchanted moment, and it sees me through. It's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you. And can you feel the love tonight?" Oh, yes, I very much can. "It is where we are. It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer, that we got this far." My eyes already felt glued shut, and I wouldn't be able to open them if I even wanted to.
"And can you feel the love tonight, how it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best..." I couldn't even hear him anymore. A light snore was making it's way from my chest, and my head was lolling against Adam's knee. I guess that, after realizing that I'd fallen asleep, he ended the song short, not bothering with finishing it. He tried to call my name, but I couldn't even respond to him, I was so far gone.
Warm, strong hands lifted my head from a hard knee and placed it, instead, on the soft confines of the bed. There was soft tip toeing across the room before everything went dark around me, and the same tip toeing made it's way back towards me. The bed shifted lightly underneath me, and hot breath appeared on my cheek, followed by... A kiss...?
His lips were only against mine for less than half a second, but it was enough. "Good night, Tommy," he whispered.
I couldn't help the soft smile that pulled at my lips in the darkness.